school, baseball/football, dentistry and blogistry

this is the first week of school. fucking worst. doing all the work for none of the money as… per… usual. worst. oh well, as we all know, the first week of fall semester means one thing above all others — girls with tans in their fresh threads. yup that’s right. all over the place. william and mary had dorky ass tanned chicks in fresh threads. when you saw them, you were like, “hey, how did that roast turkey escape from the window of boston market?” now, i’m at a dif. place and the ladies are way dif. way hotter and… wait for it… younger.

you know it’s bad, but it feels so right. my mind’s telling me no but my body, my body’s telling me ye-e-es. (if you don’t know this line from the classic rkelly song, i’ll bet you had zero darkies in your whole high school. yup.) so, that’s what school’s about. sitting here and working and staring at 18-yr old girls… sad and deplorable, i know, but it’s what i’ve been reduced to and, truth be told, i’ll bet you fucks would do the same goddam thing. uh-huh.

braves are playing terribly. i think i’m going to have to say that this may not be their year. i hate to be pessimistic, but i don’t want to fool myself either. they’ll have two great games, and then 2 terrible games. they need starting pitching, and they don’t have it. it’s a shame, but i’m taking the long view. if they don’t win it all this year, it’ll make it that much better when they do win it — next year. just the same, with 30 games left, they’re only a few games out of the WC and the Divis., so hope is not lost just yet. nearly lost, but not quite lost completely.

the mets are fucking terrible. i hate everyone on their gay team. i hate their black coach (not cuz he’s black, though), and i hate their speedy baserunners. i hate the mets and i hope their plane crashes. i’m dead serious when i say this. nothing would make me happier than if omar manaya, jose reyes, carlos beltran and david wright got run over by a bus and then gored by a bull right in their respective junks. seriously. they’re so bad, and i hate them. good thing they’re getting destroyed by the phillies every night this week on my tv! pla-zow!!

speaking of soooo bad, i hate the red sux. dankkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk, you know better than to think they were winners. now, it’s crunch time, and manny has gotten some “injury” (aka yeast infection) and papi is too busy looking like a black and even more deformed andre the giant to hit homeruns. … … this is me trying to think of some other redsux to make fun of… … … wait a minute… … … they got nobody else. their team is made up of two power hitters and a million other foreign or geriatric also-rans. i hate the redsux, and they’re getting their just deserts by getting destroyed by the YANKEES two games in a row. bla-zam!! a-rod can hit, and manny and papi should learn something about class from him.

i got a fantasy football team, and i’m in a pickle. i am in a league with several of my professional superiors. this is fine, but i know more about football than them, so i’m torn between letting them win for the guan-shi (aka asskissing) or beating them back to the stone age just cuz i can. i think the former sounds more likely, but i haven’t decided. my team includes, among others, the following destroyers:

“Fast” Willie Parker —

Clinton Portis —

Alge Crumpler —

Tom Brady —

and many more villainous football rascals. get ready for a season of destruction, i’ll say to all who challenge me. i prefer baseball but have no problem embarrassing anyone who asks for it on the gridiron as well.

what i’m really looking forward to about football season is a) colder weather and b) fishing. the summer sucks cuz it’s hot and it’s hard to make the fish bite. when it gets a little cooler, i’ll get back to my main aquatic pastime, and then the deluge of fishing pictures will begin anew. prepare yourselves while there’s still time.

two nights ago, i broke off my toof. it broke off fo rizzeal. for the previous three days i had thought i had something between a couple of my teef, and i had been flossing like a mad man. then, the other night i was eating some delicious pretzels (honey mustard and onion flava) and felt something strange. i had broke off (and subsequently injested) by own toofus. it was delicious as it, too, was coated with the honey mustard and onion flava’d powder, but when i put my tongue into my toof’s former place of residence, i felt nothing but a terrible sink-hole. my toof was, how shall i say this, gonnnnnnnnn!!!!!!! ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!! it was so freaking scary. i was so freaked out. i thought my whole head was going to implode or something, and i’m almost sure it had nothing to do with how blazed i was. just the same, i went to the dentist the next day, and he told me that i had to get a crown… so i did… now i have spent 800 bizones, and i feel nobetter than i did with my old (obviously flawed) toof. this brings me to the main point of this paragraph. i have no idea what dentists are all about. on the one hand, i think it’s good to take care of this stuff before it gets out of hand (as in this particular case) but at the same time, why would you go to the dentist if your toofuses don’t hurt? after all, if it ain’t broke… (you can finish this sentence, surely). in my case, it was broke. it being my toof. and now it’s back. i have a dynamic, space-age toof now, and i will chomp the fingers of anyone who questions my oral hygiene. fyi, this is what a crown looks like

don’t question me when i say that i will verily chomp upon your fingers with my radioactive toof of fury.

last topic for the day — blogs. i was teaching class, and one of my students was saying, “well, you can’t believe anything you read on blogs anyway.” i replied, “sure you can. you just have to read the right blogs.” this was my gut reaction, and i would stick with it. blogs are only as reliable as those who write them. in our case, i think this is a bit different. we don’t write this shit because we want to convince people that we are a) smart or b) cool. in fact, most of the time, these blogs are dedicated to our real loserocity. this is, i think, what makes our blog different from the blog-herd currently polluting the web. everyone else is out there preaching about this or that important issue but really saying very little that matters at all. we are talking about pegasii, tv shows, fake marriages, and other meaningless, non-sensical bullshit, but at least what we’re saying means something to us. i mean, at least when stoney writes something, he knows roughty, twitch, dankklkkkiel and i will like it. when i write something, i know they will like it. when roughty writes something, he knows we’ll like it. when dankkkkkkkkkkkkkk writes something, he thinks that we’ll like it, (and though he’s usually wrong, we like him anyways sometimes). so, my point is that dankkkkkkkkkkkkiel is cool even though his blogs are not, and we are all losers who write the worst, best blog in the galaxy. just kidding. this blog sucks, and nobody should ever waste their time reading or writing anything for this crap-chunk.

[shit aint working right]
yall know…

Mets fans are lethal

Well, last night snapped the Mets’ four-game winning streak as they lost to the Dodgers, 6-2.  Furthermore, as this was a nationally televised game, the sting was that much more biting.  It’s baseball though, one out of 162 games, no big deal right?  Yeah, in some respects, I suppose. 

Yet, as a die hard Mets fan each loss tortures me a little.  I had just enough booze in my system, and the right mixture of douchebags in the vicinity to morph from my mild-mannered alter ego, into “Roughty”.  “Roughty” will embarass you in front of your girlfriend by ripping your popped collar, yanking out your gelled hair, peeing in your daquiri, then taking her home.  It’s been done before. 

“Roughty” was always the person who was arrested all those times, and lately I have been able to control his presence because I don’t want to go to a Richmond jail a lot more than I like your girlfriend at closing time.  So naturally, I kept him at bay, had a shot, paid my tab, and walked home; all the while cursing under my breath the verbal beratement I was sure to receive from Stoney becuase of his fickle and convenient love of the Dodgers.

But one Queens resident takes Mets losses to heart.  Read.  That is right.  The title is, “Losin’ Mets made me kill my mom”. 

“Michael Anthony, 26, was frustrated with the Mets’ 6-5 loss to the Washington Nationals in the second game of Saturday night’s doubleheader when he started arguing with his father, according to a statement he gave police.”

(File photo of a Mets fan getting ready for a little, ultraviolence)

Ok, I can understand his anger.  I mean, who doesn’t get pissed when their team loses to the Nationals.  They are even worse than the Expos were.  While the Anthony household sounds like a replica of Mayberry, I would venture to guess that Michael and his old man were boozing quite heavily.

“We started fighting and my mother jumped in,” he said, adding that she took a knife from the kitchen of the Fresh Meadows home. “I took the knife from her and it got stuck in her head.”

Once again, seems reasonable.  The Mets just lost to a garbage team, the old man is on his case, and now mom comes leaping in with a goddamn butcher knife.  In my experience, there is no family disagreement that cannot be resolved by brandishing a weapon.  Unfortunately, mom had to ruin the fun and put her head in the way of Michael’s stabbing motion.

“Fischman then fled to the bedroom, where Anthony said he thought she was going for a weapon in a dresser drawer. “I grabbed a weight from the top of the dresser, swung it, hit her and she fell to the floor,” Anthony said.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa.  The bitch ran into the bedroom after getting a knife stuck in her head?  I know the mothers of Mets fans are known for spewing out superior sons – Spartan mothers come to mind here – but, holy shit.  If I get a knife stuck in my head, I’m cashing in my chips and waiting for my direct flight to Hell.  I will lose the will to fight.  But not this woman.  Unfortunately, her mad dash alarmed her son, who then clobbered the woman (with a knife stuck in her head mind you) to death with his heaviest barbel.

Now, this barbel could not have been more than 5 pounds.  He must not be doing any serious lifting if he feels threatened by his elderly mother, who again, has a fucking knife stuck in her head.  I am a huge Mets fan, but this Michael Anthony is my new hero.  (Bonus points for having two first names).  My only wish is that the AP does a follow up in depth look at how Michael reacts to a Mets loss while watching it at Rikers Island.  I smell a Pulitzer.

METS UPDATE / BRAVES DEMISE

NL East standings as of 8/27/07

NY Mets (73-56): 1st place

Philadelphia Phillies (67-62): 6 games behind

Atlanta Braves (67-64): 7 games behind

THE BRAVES ARE TOAST.

CHIPPER JONES UPDATE:

Hey Suit, you know how you love that ass grabbing jerk-off, Chipper Jones so much?  Well guess what he named his son?  Shea.  That’s right, Shea.  As in Shea Stadium, home of the Mets.  Seems like he wishes he was playing somewhere else.  But fuck him, we don’t want his bullshit. 

There there, Suit.  I know it’s sickening.

there’s nothing i can add…

… to roughty’s masterful la blog.  absolutely nothing omitted that i feel worth mentioning.  in fact, he went into detail in places i would have left out completely — namely, my vomiting incident.  you loyal readers (who are apparently enthralled with pegasii {search term}) had grown accustomed to seeing me stone sober, cradling lovely trout, perch and bass in my adept fishing (and masturbating{search term}) arm.  this is only half the real suityourself.  the other half is the drunken, light-weight puking on stoney’s roof.  by the way, i doubt seriously that stoney has bothered to drag a hose up there and wash that shit off.  hope those infamous la pigeons were hungry for roast beef sandwiches, bong ashes, whiskey, coca-cola and half-digested xanax(sp?) {search term} pills, cuz that’s what they are eating off the roof right now.

did i say there was nothing i can add to roughty’s blog?  well, nearly nothing.  i would feign go into some detail about the culture — if it can so be called — in los angeles, califreakia.  let me start (as i do every day) with the weed sitch.  it is, as i stated earlier, all true.  you can buy it if you have a prescription.  i don’t have a prescription, so i could get busted out there as easily as i could right here in good ole virginny.  stoney, on the other hand, is immune.  he’s legit.  too legit, in fact, to quit.  leave it to the rich blond fucker to have all the luck that the rest of us working men (just me) really deserve.  i have these pictures of ornately arranged bongs {search term}, blunts {search term}, rolling papers {search term} and big, fat, kine bud nuggets {search term} that i should post as soon as possible.  not today.  no camera.  you can continue to wait in vain.  the weed is chron-drizzle-fo-shrizzle.  the youngsters out there are just how they were when george harrison {search term} described them some 40 years ago.  dropouts and losers.  while sir roughtonious and i were traversing the boardwalk one morning, we walked past this band of raggidy fucks who were between the ages of 16 and 22, probably.  they were “protesting” in some way i guess.  they all had some shitty cardboard signs that read, “give me money for prescription weed!”  these busted-ass looking fuckers all had some mangy white-boy dreads {search term}.  you know the kind.  they’re dreaded at the ends, but just real teased-looking nearer to the scalp.  this is because white boy hair doesn’t naturally dread.  you have to either put some wax or something in it or work really hard at it consistently for a long while (see Dankkkkkkkkkk’s dreads from long long ago), and these kids had either run out of wax or motivation, cuz they had these fucked up looking dreads, and coupled with their sweat-stained, tie-dyed greatful dead {search term} t-shirts, they suited out as one of the mottliest crews i’d ever seen.  i smirked at one of them (see “pffffft,” and he asked me for a dollar.  news flash, asshole, if you can’t afford a weed-card, you’re most definitely not going to have the money to support your fledgling tree-habit.  here’s an idea for you.  try cutting that shit off your head, taking whatever money you begged so far and buy a new shirt.  after that, how about getting a job?  this has been the bit about the youth culture.  i didn’t see too many other “kids” around.  most of them were either sleeping under cardboard boxes on the street or eating at restaurants where appetizers cost 400 beezies.  needless to say, i did not fall into either category.

now for a little bit on the rest of the society out there.  service industry is made up almost entirely of mexicans.  as i said before, the kids are either filthy rich or lazy as shit and worthless in both cases.  this leaves a huge void in the marketplace for service industry people — people who know how to work for a dollar even if it means messing up that fresh hair-do or breaking a nail.  mexicans fill this void.  yussir.  all the mexicans i saw were pretty nice to me.  i didn’t try to bust out the spanish on them.  i’m sure they get that enough from tourists just like me, so i just grinned at some of them, exposing my yellowing teeth and my blazed-out red eyes.  surprisingly, lots of them grinned back.  i am not the most sophisticated guy on the block, but i think their grins were, in general, sincere.  could it be that they were happy to be in america and making those big green american dollars?  i dunno.  i like to think so, but who knows?  maybe they just thought if they grinned at them, i’d give them some money or something.  maybe they thought i was a movie star…  yeah, that’s probably it.  yup, that’s the one i’m going with.  as far as other people in the la working world, i didn’t really see many.  again, most of them are either much too rich or much too poor to be seen in any of the places i visited.

a note on commerce in la, they have pretty much the same type of stores there that we have here.  grocery stores, liquor stores, clothing stores, drug stores, electronics stores, home furnishings stores, etc.  as always, some of these places are over-priced, and some are more reasonable.  however, the most reasonable one out there was much more expensive than the most over-priced on in virginia.  likewise, the cost of living is steep.  housing is hardly affordable, even for two gainfully employed folks like roughty’s and my hosts — stoney and lady t.  just like nyc, la is a place i’d love to live so long as i was dirty-rich.  for regular middle-class people, it’s a nice place to visit.

the physical environment was everything i had hoped for in some ways but not as cool as i had hoped in other ways.  temperature was perfecto!  never too hot.  sun always shining.  cool in the morning and evening.  perfect.  sandy beaches and lovely palm trees.  some good looking women — maybe a slightly better ratio than virginia.  however, i didn’t get to see too much of the country, not-developed areas as i had hoped.  i know they exist, because when we went to the greek theater, it was sick-to-deff.  lots of wildlife possibilities and such.  i feel like cali. is as wild as they say, but i just didn’t get a chance to see it.  we stayed in the suburbs of the concrete jungle.  next time, i plan to check out all the wild places and make a better judgment after that.  as far as animalia goes, i saw some lizards, some pigeons and sea-gulls, a bunch of dogs, a cat inside a window, a crazy shark/ray and that is about it.

enough, for now, on la.  now onto more pressing matters — baseball.

 

braves {search term}are poised and ready to strike out at roughty’s shitty mets (who blew the hell out of that 5 run lead roughty alluded to in an earlier post).  dankkkkkkkkkkkkkkk’s redsux are pulling the usual choke-job.  stoney’s dodgers have fallen off a little bit.  the rest of you need to pick a fucking baseball team, cuz you’re missing out on the best season in generations.  get ready, because in two weeks i’m going to be writing about how my beloved braves are in first place and roughty’s favorite player has broken his leg or sustained an equally devastating injury.  all i hope is that pedro martinez gets called up to the bigs soon.  i cannot wait to see him get shelled by the big bats of the atl braves.  it’s going to be dangerous for him, though, so roughty ought to kneel down and say a prayer that pedro doesn’t get killed by a line-drive off chipper’s bat.

speaking of sports, stoney has been awfully silent lately about

michael vick {search term}.  maybe he feels bad for always being such a fucking racist who hates all black people.  he should.  michael vick has been framed, and everyone with half a brain knows it.  it’s just that the white man can’t stand a talented black man having any money, so they’re framing him.  michael vick is the shit. 

 

if he gets suspended, he’ll just go into seclusion for a couple years and work on his skills like luke s. did in one of the star wars {search term} movies with yoda on degoba.  after this, he’ll just have to win three superbowls instead of the 2 he was planning on before.  there’s no way he’s going to jail, and if he does, i can smell a “longest yard” three-quel.  yall need to stop being jealous of michael vick.  just because you’re racist doesn’t make him guilty.  if i were vick’s attorney, i would use the self-defense ploy.  after all, pits are dangerous.  

 

“if mike got bit, you must acquit.”

now, back to one of my fav. topics — john from cincinnati.  as i mentioned before, the show takes place in one “IB.”  imperial beach is the southwestern-most city in the united states.  i thought maybe it was in la, but no.  it’s nearer to san diego, i guess.  no wonder stoney and the rest of his idiot friends had no idea what the fuck i was talking about.  anyways, the show’s first season is over.  the finale was anti-climactic, to say the least.  in fact, it was close to a let-down.  no secrets revealed, no aliens, no death, no jesus christ, no nothing, really.  just dylan mckay and zach morris dicking it up like they did in the early 90s.  they are setting us up for a second season, so i hope the numbers allow this to happen.  john from cincinnati is the best show you’ve never seen.  trust me.  how about one more clip just for good measure?

(look close for zach and dylan)

peace out squabblerinos.

god damnit stoney!

you pansy! 

dankkkkkkkkk will be the first to tell you that you’re not in touch with your feelings, and i actually agree with his hyper-girly perspective on this issue. 

clearly, your poor little feelings were bruised by the fact that i (def. not dankkkkkkkkk) have a job and do not always have time to meet in this blogariffic “clubhouse” to talk about girls and tv shows and ganga-weed and funny sports bloopers and scientology and celbrities and the rest of the endless string of drivvvvvvle.  rather than just saying that your poor little feelings are bruised, you flew off the handle and threatened another choppulation.  this, sir, is not appropriate.  you don’t always have to chop people who piss you off (dankkkkkk and suit) — or move to the other side of the country from them (jack, kay and kstack) — or write blogs about how terrible they are.  follow dankkkkkkkkk’s advice; get in touch with your emotions.

search your feelings, luke.  you know it to be true.

the truth is that you are scared of being alone in the blogosphere.  rather than risk fading out and blowing away like so much sawdust, you alienate dankkkkkkkkk and suit and simultaneously corral roughtonious into a homosexual electronic embrace. 

you should know by now that the firm foundation on which the wageslave was built (ie — roughty and suit) has been holding this entire structure together since minute one of hour one of day one of month one.  what the hell was supposed to happen when you were xan’ed out at work?  and in key west?  and drunk at home?  i’ll tell you what happened.  roughty and suit (and some other hangers-on) picked up the slack.  stoneywageslave was wounded, and we bandaged its wounds, gave it a pat on the head and sent it on its way better than it was before your slack-ass crumbled into oblivion.

in short, stoney, you should be ashamed of yourself for disgracing the blog.  further, you should pray to everything you hold holy that when all of my loyal readers read that you were chopping me, that they didn’t pack up their trucks and move on to search for their suityourself fixes in the nether regions of the web.  you’re treading on thin ice, son, and you better get down on your knees and grovel.

as far as dankkkkkkkk goes, i suggest that you limit him to pics only.  his pics are often flavorful, but his text is rarely intelligible.  it’s been a few years since william and mary, so the humongous words he frequently busts out are no longer as impressive to me as they once were.  i need more of the old dankkkkkkkkkkk — dumb ass yankee-land stories and weed smoking adventure tales…  no more coup d’etat, and surely no more feaux-candidacies.  my advice — stick to pics. 

now dankkkkkkkkk, as you read these words (and i know you’re gonna) please do the right thing.  don’t give me the legendary dankkkkkk cold-shoulder.  rather, take my advice for what it is — sage advice from a worthy counselor…  think of it as…

well…

i dunno…

something like this…

holy gospel.  that’s what it is.  and you shall address it as such or risk fury of heaven (kempsville).

in other, non-gay-ass-booger-eating-blogger news, the atlanta braves are coming on strong.  here are a few faces that are either already haunting your dreams (roughty) or will shortly appear there (fans of any other non-NL east team).

willie harris

learn something for a change, and read this article.   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Willie_Harris

yunel escobar

4-4 last night with 3 rbis.  defies logic and play better than the player he’s replacing…

edgar renteria

going for his first ever 200-hit season.

no need to mention the names of the two best perennial braves powerhouses…

walk-off double last night.

roughty, pray he never comes out of his slump.  makes david wright look like a blind t-ball player.

finally, the devastating force behind this year’s championship run — mark teixeira

last note, if this post doesn’t bring in the awesome and super-cool page views you bungholes are so interested in, why don’t you cry about it?!  who gives a shit if johnny joe the startrek dorkus reads this shit or doesn’t?  not me.  it’s not like colin powell, george foreman or dankkkkkkkk’s mom are reading this shit, so why the hell would we give a shit?  get a reality check, o ye worthless blogaholics; this blog is a piece of crap.  denying its pieceofcrapitude is denying the blog of its one real strength.

pu-pu-pu-peace out.

live, from venice beach…

… brought to you by the good people at the world wide interwebnet.com, it is my pleasure to bring you the first in what must be a long series of posts regarding the present west-coast excursion.  no pictures this time, as i do not have the apparatus necessary to perform that operation.  rest assured, though, that pictures will be on their way.  consider those pictures to be a tidal wave of destruction rolling directly toward you at the speed of … your … … MIND!

1.  the weed card.

it is real.  for real.  no, seriously, the shit is for real.

2.  liquor.

(+/-) good – you can buy it in the grocery store.  bad – it is very pricey.

3.  ladies.

the hot/nothot ratio is favorable.

4.  weather.

warm and sunny in the sun.  breezy and amazingly comfortable in the shade.  sun is so close that roughton is now red as a tomato.  now, when he becomes drunk he looks even more irish than usual.

5.  demographic and sociological data.

this is all pretty sketchy.  i am not a trained ethnographer.  and when you smoke too much, it’s hard to tell the difference between some types of people.  plus, i have not been into the downtown area of l.a., and i expect to see some differences.  in venice beach, everyone seems to be white, and young, and rich.  everyone is not rich.  that means they all do something to compensate for this lack of being rich.  some of them are straight-up fakers.  (roughty and stoney played doubles billiards with a couple prime examples of this type.)  some of them are really rich.  this makes it easy.  some of them are for real crazy – not dankkkkkkk crazy, but really crazy.  again, this is an easy way to look cool.  come on.  others of the populous are actually cool people.  will report a cool/loser ratio as soon as i can.  but just so you can know, people like you are in the loser category.  read a blog once… loser for life.

ok, it is now time to plug the upcoming submissions.  roughty and stoney think it would be soooo neeeaaatttt to get lots of other dumbasses reading this blog.  that’s right readers.  i know you all are like, “woohoo, roughty, that guy is sooo kewel,” and “ooohh stoney, soooo awesome!”  wrong.  wrong.  wrong.  these guys talk about their blog for real.  this blog is like a mickey mouse lemon ade stand.  come on.  anyway, this means that we’ve talked a lot about future blogs.

1.  vlog #1.  topic will be your friend and mine, dankkkkkkkkknugs.  get ready for this shit.  it’s on.

2.  photo documentary.  (probably more than 1)

3.  reflections on sonic youth

4.  me rubbing roughty’s face in the fact that his sorry ass mets got creamed by the dodgers and that the braves will be beating them in the nl east.  and the fact that all the mets broke their legs.

5.  liquor will make you vomit in los angeles in the same way it will in virginia.  i know it comes as a surprise, but you should believe.

6.  john from cincinnati is set in a fictional location – i.b..  does not exist.  now what?

sorry for this brief and poorly organized post.  soon it will be coming in thick.

lyric of the week:      “I’ll sweep you off your feet,

With a box of chocolates,

But watch it.

‘Cause it’s really

Balled up hog shit.”

these are my conclusive observations.  the rest will need more time to process.

adios.

Catch-up.

i’m playing a little catch up on the blogggg today.  have been derelict for a few days as real life has gotten in the way.  since i’ve been gone, there have been some good posts and some terrible posts.

best post winner — roughty for #1 in da hood, g.

worst post winner (loser) — roughty for the horrendous mets.

blogger definitely going to hell — stoney for the retard post.

anyway, good work.  i agree that dankkkkkk is in serious jeopardy.  he needs to contrib or face the …

  

he was doing a solid job there for a minute, but fell off in recent times.

to further prop my boy roughtonious, i will add something from the athf vault which i am afraid he has forgotten…

(disregard the master shake.)

remember the moth man?  aka reverse vampire bus…  memorable quote:  “yeah, i laid 10,000 of my eggs in his esophagus, and he was being a baby about it.”

ok, back to business.  what the fuck is the deal with publication of bloggers’ first names?  i thought it was an unwritten law that we would not do that sort of thing, but if it’s gonna happen, just let me know, and homey can play that.  i’ll out you guys like elton fucking john.

so, some of you know i live in norfolk.  norfolk is the land of black pedestrians walking slow as shit in front of your car while you’re going 60 down a 25 in order to minimize your time in the ghetto.  i like this city, because i was born here and have been riding on these streets for years, but i mean this is ridiculous.  i have almost run these fucking darkies over on purpose just on principle.  my thousand pound metal driving machine is more powerful than your 6’5″, 88lb. cracked out, basketball playing, sneeker ganking ass, so get the fuck out of the way.  i frequently use the “n-word” (nigger) during this type of encounter and hope that i will never get shot for doing so.  so far, i have been lucky.  if i ever get “run up on” for using “their word” i’m just going to play the albino card.  be like, “yo, blood, i be one of you.  i jus got dis pigment disawdah.”  these guys aren’t generally among the sharpest knives in the drawer, so they’ll probably buy it… right? 

i’m trying to do my part to keep these statistics intact.  look, they even drew the stick figure the right color.  for once, government work is efficient and effective.

ok, there’s my racism for the day.  you like that?  aww yeah.

so, besides narrowly missing brown people crossing the street, i have also been fishing my balls off — like ev-er-y day.  here’s some of the fruits of my labor.

biggest smallmouth of my life.  on the new river — right down the road from the site of the massacre (ethnic cleansing) in b’sburg va. 

tonight, the all-star game is upon us.  i am predicting an NL win, and in order for this to come about, i will need to support the hated ny mets.  while i am very uncomfortable with this prospect, i will do it for tonight and only tonight.  the braves are closing in on them like a domerman running down one of the retards from stoney’s last post, so i’m not too worried.

enjoy the game, bitches.

ps — as the time approaches for me to travel on the magical mystery tour to la, i am beginning to prime my lungs for the excessive cheeeefage that must surely occur.  i am doing some deep breathing exercises and am only smoking like 3 packs a day instead of the usual full carton.  all i know is, those yahoos in cali better be ready to see some real east coast flava.

finally, enjoy this bit of savagery.  brought to you by some crazy redneck bird.

heading west…

…is a frightening prospect.  pretty worried over here.  what if the moviestars like the oompa loompa are too sophisticated for me?  shit, what am i saying?  more sophisticated than ME?!  ME?!!  i know.  you’re all saying to yourselves, “suit, why are you worried?  you are the classiest mutherfucker since don johnson.”  well, i know.  i know.  i mean, it is my divine providence after all.  i’m like lewis and clark.  except more like clark, cuz i’m not going to shoot myself after i get back home. 

all the same, i’m a little worried.  they might be on a different level of consciousness, and maybe i won’t even be able to communicate with them.  worse yet, i might wreck the rental car or get my wallet jacked at lax.  shit, they might blow up my damn plane  — atlanta to lax.  sounds like a lot of fuel in that boeing. 

no good stressing out, though.  that’s why, with this post, i’ll chronicle some of the main reasons why i’m looking forward to l.a.

1.  crossing the mighty mississippi — never done it yet and am looking forward to it, big time.  a big milestone for a waterman like me.

2.  going to another mlb ballpark — dodgers stadium should be fun.  as long as they sell beer and caps, i’ll be all good.  a mets’ loss (or, better yet, a terrible injury to beltran) would just be icing on the cake.

3.  seeing my ole pal roughtonious — live 2 hours down the road from him and have to go to l.a. just to touch bases with a guy i used to see 5 times every day.  p.s. roughty, i apologize for stealing all those subway station sandwiches from you.  i always blamed in on stoney, but it was really me sometimes.  also, while i’m apologizing, sorry for laughing at you for the sj punch to the grill.  you did have it coming, though…  pffft.

4.  feeling comfortable in another city — when you’re a homeboy like me, you really get confident when you go someplace else and can function like a reasonable human.  not sure if this will happen, but i’m thinking positive.

5.  not leaving my wallet in the bar — stoney will remind me this time after the “off the wagon” incident in greenwich vill.  if not, he’ll have a new permanent roommate.

6.  going to the actual locations where some of my favorite movies were shot — training day, friday, don’t be a menace to south central while drinking your juice in the hood.

7.  going to all my favorite places from 90210 — the beach where brenda met dylan, west beverly high, the radio station where david silver learned about speeeeed.

8.  meeting lady t. — after all the hype, i’m ready to meet the genuine article.  if she can make our boy take nudie pics off the blog, she must be a wonderful person.  —editorial sidebar — yes, i’m kissing ass, boys.  this is what you do before you go and share a teeny living space with somebody you never met before.—

9.  the pacific ocean — another one of those things i never saw before.  should be suhweet, gnarly, bodacious and that hang ten sign you do by sticking out your thumb and pinky finger and jiggling your hand around.  maybe i’ll finally get to see the monster swells like on point break.  i’m paddling out, bra!

10.  smoking west coast rocks — i heard they’ll make you grit your teeth until they fall out.  i already packed up my tire pressure guages and steel wool.  yall know how we do.

most of all, though, there’s number 11. scratching the shit out of my pal stoney’s cd collection — i’m sitting here listening to let it be, and wouldn’t you know it, the shit is scratched right to hell — right in the middle of the long and winding road, no less.  why don’t i take it out and put in something else like the love below?  oh.  that is scratched to shit as well.  oh.  what about all your sublime cds?  you guessed it.  looks like someone ran them over.  bob dylan discs?  fuuuucked up.  broke a cd player with one of them just last week – seriously.  why are all my cds scratched?  i’ll tell you.  it’s this blog’s fearless leader — mr stoney.  it’s almost as though he destructulated my shit on purpose.  oh well, iain’tmadatcha.  all i’m saying is you better hide your shit, holmes.  for real.  i’m bringing some rusty nails and broken glass for the whole collection.

all jokes aside, i can’t wait to see my friends again.  the only thing that would make it better is if dankkkkk could come.  what am i saying?  i know he could come if he really wanted to.  (peer-pressure’s a bitch, muthafuckah.) 

So, you didn’t like…

… built to spill? 

that’s aight. 

you’ll grow some hair on them balls eventually and then you’ll start listening to music whose words your parents can actually understand.  until then, enjoy your dj jazzy jeff and the fresh prince. 

 

or was the video too savage for you pansies?  either way, let me know when you’re ready for some real culture.  until then, say hi to n k o t b for me.

 alright, enough rubbing salt into your wounds.

i want to publicly thank sir roughtonious for posting those pictures.  when i saw those pics, i didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or shit my pants.  stoney was a fucking wreck even back then, ladies.  don’t believe the stories of rock stardom and chizzzzzzled abs.

next, the braves blew hard last night.  but that was only the second worst blow-out i’ve seen in the past 24 hours.  my cousin’s team won their championship softball game by a score of…

yup.  that says 37 – 1.  i’m not making this shit up.  i honestly felt bad for the other team.  then, my father says, “they need to learn how to lose just like everybody else.”  this sounds awfully cynical.  is it right for some little 12-year-old girls to have to suffer such a crushing defeat?  what about the “kill” or “skunk” rule?  well, this was the championship, and the skunk rule didn’t apply.  i am not sure.  it seems like 10-1 or even 20-1 would have taught them “how to lose” pretty well.  37 – 1 is just an embarrassment.  i wouldn’t be surprised if those little girls went home and did themselves in.

rather, my cousin said that most of them just wanted to get ice cream after the game.  they don’t care whether they win or lose.  wait a minute…  37 – 1, and they want some ice cream?!  hell no.  you’ll get nothing and like it you non-softball-playing wastes of space.  what does this look like?  price is right? 

 

you don’t get no lovely parting gifts.  if you lose, you lose. 

that’s one of the biggest problems with our society — getting rewarded for doing nothing.

1.  Perfect Attendance Award — give me a fucking break.  you couldn’t con your mom into thinking you had the runny shits, so you actually had to do what you’re supposed to do.  no perfect attendance award.  you might as well give the kid a fucking trophy for finishing his milk at lunch.  trivial bullshit — all for the sake of the little son of a bitch’s self-esteem.

2.  Most Improved Player — whuuh?  let’s rename this one the “you’re not as shitty as you used to be award.”  come on.  this is ridiculous.  if i batted .000 and then batted .100 the next year, i might be most improved, but i am still terrible.  i don’t need a trophy.  i need a career change.

3.  Parole — “yo, dog, i’m back.  they lemme out on good buhhaviuh.”  yeah, good behavior.  if you had good behavior, they wouldn’t have locked you up in the first place, you damn crack selling car thief.  why don’t you run along and rob a liquor store now.  what ever happened to “you do the crime, you do the time!”?

the society is swarming with this bullshit.  the way i figure it, those little girls should have just stayed at the park after their 37 – 1 loss and started running laps.  after three hours or so, i’d have given out a trophy

to their coach

for coach of the year. 

in other news, i’m going to the land of fruits

and nuts

that’s right — l.a., california.  in about a month, i’ll be there.  i’m a busy guy, so i need to start packing.  i figure i’ll need some rubbers, a bullet-proof vest and some thick thick glasses to convince the local pork that i have horrible glaucoma.  after the trip, i may not be coming back, so if i never post on the blog after july, just assume that either

1.  i’ve become a famous movie star like george clooney or peewee herman, or

2.  i’ve defected to mexico, or

3.  i’m hooked on crys.meth. and am never coming home.

(crossing my fingers for number 3).     out.

i am forced to assume…

… that you gentlemen were not amused by my tale of the public masterbation i witnessed on tuesday.  because of this, i am forced to revert to a more base discussion on this worthless friday.

savagery roll call:

Savage Garden?

are you kidding me?  nothing savage about that garden.

now, for a savage garden, i recommend the garden of sound — sound garden.

those guys have savage written all over their pasty white, drugged out faces.

 Nathaniel Mayer Savage?

i don’t know the man personally, but i’d guess he’s a truly savage Savage.  any black guy who could afford a suit in the days of black and white photography must be.

how about a sure savage thing?

The Macho Man Randy Savage?

look at those threads…

snap into a true Savage.

alright, on another note, by popular demand, i’m going to post some more fishing pics for you city slickers who’ve never seen the country before.

these were taken on father’s day.  i hope you all called your dads yesterday.  my dad and i fished all afternoon, and it was as great as fishing is every weekend.  i won’t reveal my father’s identity, so i must post only a close-up of his big bluegill. 

posting apparently doesn’t work anymore, so i’ll link instead.

http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r252/PBaker_photo/?action=view¤t=IMG_0119.jpg

 and here’s suityourself holding a really nice bream.

http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r252/PBaker_photo/?action=view¤t=IMG_0120.jpg

on a totally unrelated note, do you ever want to kill your boss?  i mean, not just in passing.  have you ever spent like 30 minutes of work time thinking about how you might be able to get away with it?  (DISCLAIMER FOR THE F.B.I. — I WOULD NEVER KILL MY BOSS.)  well, i think about this all the time.  so, is this a problem?  i never thought so, but today i started feeling a little crazy about this.  i don’t want to end up like stoney’s boy c. bale in amer. psycho.  that is not a good way to go.

finally, roughty, keep your eyes on the standings.  braves trail by 1.5 games and are coming on strong.  just you wait.

last but not least, here’s some real music for all of you who are frustrated by stoney’s poor taste in music.  fratellis blow after all.  we can all agree on that.  except for those little kids playing guit and mandolin on their couch, stoney has contributed no good music in quite a little while.  here’s a little band from idaho called built to spill. 

here’s a link to their site.  click it and listen to some of their other ass kicking songs.

http://www.builttospill.com/ 

they’ve been around.  i found out about them from some nerd in china, but they are the best rock band playing right now. 

i wish i was smart enough to post a youtube video, but i am not.  for now, here’s a shortcut to one of the newer vids.  you will note the led zeppelinian intro to the video…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cw3CzGNmKBk

peace.

Alright, it’s official…

… i am not allowed to drink coffee anymore at all. 

ok, let me start out by telling everyone who doesn’t know that i am a recoving/-ed blow-fiend.  (just now i was looking for pics to post right here but decided against it.  such pics are a bad idea.  ganga pics are one thing, but straws, razor blades…  i don’t think so.)  anyway, about my addiction — it wasn’t a long one — really just about 2 years, that’s it.  not that long at all.  but it was bad.  i don’t know if i believe the hype about “addictive personalities” or any of that, but i really liked the chizzzowder for serious. 

here’s a short sidebar.  ok, so i just came downstairs in 1420 a, and i’m trying to keep it together.  everything’s fine, and then all of a sudden, i start tasting this awful (at least it was awful at the time) drip going down the back of my throat.  i was all like, “dude, i think this shit is fucked up.  i’m getting this bad taste down my throat.”  sir stoney of stonesylvania starts busting out laughing and, between his already clenched teeth says, “you’ll learn to love it.”  and i did.

 so that’s the sidebar.  i liked it alright.  spent lots of money, 80 bucks at a time, til i had none left.  anyway, it’s been about a year and change, and i’m clean as a whistle.  all that shit is behind me except for the guilty feeling i get anytime i’m still awake when the birds are already chirping.  anyway, it’s done now.

so… back to the story… i’m about to switch jobs and i was at a meeting this morning with this guy who wants to give me some money to write this big paper.  so he says, “you want a cup of coffee?”  i said, “no thanks, it makes me a little nervous.”  he said, “come on, i just got this new kind.  you’ll like it.”  so what am i going to do?  offend this guy who wants to give me green green money by turning down his delicious coffee?!  no.  that’s not me.  i don’t make waves like that on purpose.  so i says, “sure, i’ll have a small cup.” 

so i’m chilling on it, sipping and blowing.  it was actually alright.  then, about half-way down the cup it starts. 

my teeth start to clench.  immediately i recognize the sensation.  it’s the same ole blow feeling.  and i start thinking… worst!  then, right on cue, comes the motor mouth.  my achilles heel.  i don’t know dick about this damn project the guy’s talking about, but right then i was a motherfucking expert.  i knew more about this shit than anything in the world, and i was going to talk about it.  (in retrospect, i don’t think this bothered anyone.  in fact, i think they were impressed with my caffeine-induced confidence.)  so, this is where it begins to get really strange.  the whole time, i knew what was going on.  the coffee had gotten into my system, and i was getting the placebo effects of a fat-ass rail up my schnoz.  just the same, right after i started talking, i started sniffling.  you’ve all been there.  it happens — but not with coffee!  anyway, i’m sitting there in a pretty important meeting with clenched teeth, sweating, hunched back, talking a mile a minute, sniffling like david crosby.  i am ashamed of this, bigtime, and because of that, i am never drinking coffee again.  i am not allowed.  ever.

this is my message to you little boys and girls out there.  never do drugs, because you’ll never be able to drink coffee again at all.

or maybe that’s just me.

moral of the story — drug users can get good jobs.  i got the job this afternoon, even though i was a skiiiiiid up wreck at my “interview.”

unrelated final thought.  braves are poised to burn past the mets.  roughty, put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye!  🙂