A Great Awakening: The Blog Revival

Well, my plan worked.  Everyone is gone and there is nobody to read/write entries.  All mine!  mwhaahaahaa.  Anyway, it’s been awhile and I just wanted to start off by telling everyone that they are gay. 

 For news, well, I ran into a long lost brother: III dog.  I was standing outside of an academic building dreading the fact that I had to go to class and up walks the one the only.  But, does everyone know that grad school is for fags?  This shit blows and if you ever feel any inclination to lead a more fulfilling life and escape your wage slavery–don’t.  Yes, that’s right.  You have an eyewitness that is telling you.  Live an unfulfilling, selfish life.  Work, put in your eight hours, go home, and forget about what hell you just went through.  The beauty of work is that you can leave it at the office if you want.  Grad school is gay.  I’ve actually decided to do my reading for once and now all I do is fucking read.  Read, Read, REad.  And, some may say,  “well, that guy is lucky.  He is enlightening his brain and reading interesting stuff.”  Well, if you think that is the case you are sorely mistaken.  Nothing is interesting in my course of study.  I mean, does anyone find gender roles in Antebellum (pre-war) America interesting?  No, only man-hating lezzies.  Well, I guess I miss not reading cool stuff and listening to people talk about it. 

On another note, all the nay-sayer can eat a big fat because the Giants won the Super Bowl.  Yep, that’s right, Giants.  As for shit-talk for upcoming events, Red Sox are looking to defend their championship.  Unfortunately, I’ll be stuck watching the National League suck the big one. 

Anyway, I’ve got to go eat dinner at 7 -11.  Ahh, the good life. 

 Also, stoney, suit, roughty, and twitch are gay. 

Champions

peezy is gay and as usual wrong in his predictions.   i expect him to be donning a red sox hat in the coming months.  no, do not listen to his wiley scheme of falsity.  if he is ever seen wearing a red sox cap, which he might only do in private, he will surely make an excuse of some ridiculous nature, claiming to welcome sox fan into his clutches so he can rip on them.  anyone aware of stoney’s track record will no doubt agree that the incredible urge is rising in him to now turn and root for the champions.  that’s right–champions.  again.  for all the shit talkers on this blog and foolish sports ‘pundits’, i would just like to say that yes, you were wrong, you knew nothing about baseball, and are too gay to celebrate such an achievement in the shadow of such pathetic defeat by your respective ball handlers. 

The Red Sox are the champions and will be until April when they begin another championship run.  Denying their championshipnocity is a futile fool’s effort sure to be joined by this blog’s numerous fools. 

shhh, don’t cry.

Happy Birthday Roughty

a little waste of time…i’m sure your ending would be a little different to the night, but not by much.

White Lips

In a conversation yesterday between stoney and i while we were both supposed to be working, we had laughed about the lockjaw incident and i jibed stoney about his own oral malfunctions.  He did not find the remark too funny, so in the tradition of assholedness and shittalking, i will relate his story.  Our dear stoney can sometimes get so excited by something he may be prone to drooling at the mouth as he snarles in excitement.  This however, is no malicious snarl like a rabid beast, nonetheless, it is a snarl of wild excitement where he loses control of his saliva and forgets to swallow.  This will usually be accompanied with snorting and mouth-breathing.

 Above this minor, occasional loss of control sits the grand pubah of oral malfunctions.  Stoney will often be so parched with excited dialogue and excessive smoking that his lips will be covered in a dry white substance that is not the storied mystery cream of another episode.  Now i know, everyone’s mouth has been so dried out that they might get a white film in the corner of the mouth, but this is by no exageration a veritable caking of dried saliva that covers the entire lips like cream lipstick.  This could be construed as an isolated episode, but i assure ye readers with full confidence in my truth-telling that it is a perenial event. 

One episode stands out beyond all the rest.  Sitting in a frat room with some friends and some fiends, we were extremely overcrowded as many had seen that the people with the weed had showed up.  Stoney, Suit, and I being the carriers of the sacred nuggets, and at this point, Stoney emptying his bank account after mine had dried out from the Fall and being the true carrier, we proceeded to smoke weed per usual.  Well, the crowded ridiculousness and gayness of the group soon, as it always did, got to us, but none more than stoney.  Looking over at stoney i see he had proverbially just taken a bite out of a piece of wedding cake too big for his face.  well, as i discreetly let him know, he was already noticing a huge bump on his arm.  In my not so discreet way, everyone looked at stoney and hence the bump on his arm.  As a room full of questions pummeled stoney his bumps multiplied with every ‘oh, my god’ and ‘what’s wrong with you’.  In front of everyone, his hives as we came to understand just kept going until he was forced to leave.  Of course, i had the bag cause i was the only one who can roll and suit and I continued to smoke stoney’s bag until we met with him shortly after. 

On completing this story, i have realized that it is poorly written and extremely unfunny.  I hope though at least the stonies will have a smile at the memory of a suffering white lipped leper. 

 With that said, i’d like to move on to another topic.  If anyone is looking to get paid to do nothing at all, i have two recommendations for you.  Temp or substitute teach in northern virginia.  it seems that the employers are as worthless as the citizens of this forsaken land.  or, maybe i’m just as worthless, but that is besides the point.  i have sat at this job all week and have yet to be explained my responsibilites.  though i’ve only made 13 dollars an hour, i still have not done any work.  that’s about 500 bucks to do jack shit.  Stoney can sympathize as we’ve both done nothing and gotten paid.  I ask you, our readers, are you as lazy and worthless as us?  i know the other stonies are just as worthless, but they’ve prolly been busy.  however, i’ve been too busy watching tv on my computer to talk to them. 

Bitches…Based Upon a True Story

You are all a bunch of bitches. ‘boo hoo, i hold down the blog all on my own–sniffle, sniffle, nobody helps me out’. Now, no one is producing shit except for twitch’s brainless miney mo of football picks. the grand introduction you were afforded was quite undue. Stoney was apparently wrong in his fear of unleashing the savage that must have been. I was expecting more ridiculous puttering buttholes and second grade male teacher fantasies, but i guess the life of a savage cannot include the blog, though true savagery also does not recognize the 70 down genital coddling that is football. Yes, i love football and sports, and many unsavage things, but i do not and have never claimed to be a savage. Far from it, i am more a pinkie flipped, tea drinking, legs crossing, former weed smoker who has done everything in his power to reject savage lawless behavior for the groovy rewarding of responsibility (sarcasm).

twitch, i’m sorry for the blatant attack, but your work is limited to picking, often accurately, the upcoming weekend’s games. you offer no commentary and hardly any shittalking. i was expecting you to be ripping and stoney claimed to be anxiously anticipating the coming shittalking brought with football.

stoney, you’re gay. bucs suck, ‘your’ steelers are winning, and i can undoubtedly bet my entire net worth of -200 dollars that you have yet to watch a single play. well, maybe if i lose then me paying negative 200 dollars would actually mean i get paid 200 dollars!?! shit, why didn’t i think about that before? i think i might have a good case for wachode and chase you down a dark alley and beat you with a proverbial debt bat credit cards.

suit, simply said, thanks for the sushi dinner and getting me into academia where i certainly do not belong.

on to me, i still can’t make any money with no bills to pay and working all the time. i’m a piece of shit who fights with his girlfriend all the time and watches sports rather than do anything else. i literally have to think about, no, draw up a spreadsheet of pros and cons whether to buy an iced tea for my smoldering ashtray asshole mouth. on a lighter note, i am happy to inform you all that i have been successfully mining green gold from the deepest caverns of the Upper Dank Nasal River, wiping them on and flicking them toward all unsuspecting victims. Be careful where you reach or grap for balance when leaning to pick up that damn elusive runaway pencil. there may be a boogie man lurking in the shadows–one of my minions of ectoslime.

roughty, well you a bitch ass nancy who can’t handle liquor. i guess this is as good a time as any to relate my recent visit to the confederate capitol in which nancy reagan, roughty-as he is first lady, resides. I arrived in his spacious 13 bedroom apartment to remember the all to familiar later 1420 A smell. yes, quite noxious. however, if you have not been depraved enough to cross the river of burnt matchsticks, pay the toll man, Mikey, and sneak past the snarling starving beasts willing to tear your flesh for its first meal since a woman had visited (rarely and never prolonged), to find the beasts’ litter box, then you can hardly imagine roughty’s. overflowing like a bloated pot of chili, the smell sticks to your skin and dampens your hair and cannot be removed by the sticky shower and mildewed-bottom of the pile towel you will be lent. after given the grand tour of his apartment modeled after a bunker in Fallujah and seriously debating wearing my flip flops in the shower, I air-dried for fear of putting the towel on my head, and then roughty and i set out to watch the mets inevitably blow it and hopefully find college football game on a nearby tv at the bar.

as everyone know the mets blew it, but not without a shimmer of hope for those unfortunate enough to confuse the ny mets for the recently swept phillies with a 13-1 shallacking on that day. well, we sat and drank beer and i ate a hockey puck with bacon and cheese, roughty in nothing out of the ordinary, drinking 1-2 more beers at the bar. This will come in to play soon, but everyone should know that roughty drinking 1-2 more beers with his typical diet versus mine would be no excuse for the ultimate shamery to come. we split the tab and went down stairs where i decisively defeated roughty in the first victory of the night-ping pong. when exiting the bar i wisely asked roughty if he had paid the second tab as he had lost the wager, moronically trusting the word of a drunken irishman. he walked out on that one and we moved to his sister’s boyfriend’s house where he exploded the tonic everywhere and left the floor adhesive. roughty made the drinks, one per person, and after thoroughly wearing out our welcome, we proceeded to dinner. both of us sitting slumped waiting for our respective lasagna and sub, i began to feel the stupor of Diana and Bacchus’s love union and looked across the table at the waning, leaning tower of a slurring man. Immediately upon finishing Roughty stood up and implored me to “get out of here” claiming we were done. Being the naive sentimentalist, I asked, ‘don’t we have to wait for the waitress? No? We can pay up front?’ this was the second, but failed attempt to walk out on a tab. He ended up begrudgingly paying the unfair tarif for both of us, saying, “you ive me sa money layter” i forgot.

well, we walked the few blocks home sandwich in tow knowing the state of affairs of any autonomous stonies’ kitchen. We arrived home and shortly after, i snapped this picture:

**will not upload-does not meet security guidelines**

i guess the material is too sensitive. a picture of roughty passed out at 8:30 p.m. would surely explode the head of any with knowledge of him.

so, he passed out and was eventually roused with threats of exposing his nanciness. in another failure of the night, roughty,quite out of character,did not shag the fly puerto rican girl that wanted his nutsack. instead, quite in character, he was content to be defeated in video games while she watched.

1st Victory- Ping Pong

2nd Victory- Drinking

3rd Victory- Madden (Roughty quit before half, I forced him to finish the half at least)

4th Victory- MVP 2005 (Red Sox defeat Mets at Shea-3-1. Big Papi eventual game winning homer in top 8th. )

5th Victory- Madden (again)

Roughty would only chalk his days losses to 0-4, but i assure you he was spent on drinking as i mixed up another gin. The next day i awoke to roughty going to work where i was going for a stoney style free brunch (remember the trellis? sweet) when my lady cracked the whip and was bitching, so i had to go home.

It was a very enjoyable trip. I only shit talk now because i have the god given right to make my friends feel bad for putting me up and paying for a dinner he wanted to walk out on. i only got slapped in the face once, which by anyone’s standards is another victory. i had a good time and a lesson in hopeless savagery. Now it’s time to get in my mom’s car and go eat McDonald’s and relay my exact gps coordinates to the wife.

signing off:

phewww….

i just farted in my cubicle again, but it went through the whole office.  sweet.

Hark Upon the Gale

PBK inductee

A Bard’s Life: What’s a bard to do?

The fair minstrel has journeyed to his summer cottage in the land, D of C.  He has been reunited with his love from the east, and they revel weekly as the fair minstrel gallavants in the diamond fields with other men; sticks and balls in hand.  Alas, this humble minstrel longs for the presence of Madame Umbilicus, who has not sojourned with the him to the land, D of C.  Madame Umbilicus remains in the womb-like palace, a fortnight’s horse ride west of the Atlantic.

The minstrel has never journeyed alone, and has taken his glowing box, bequethed to him by Lord Microsoft, in Madame Umbilicus’ stead.  This magical, glowing box has been granted the power of projection by Lord Microsoft’s jesters, and the minstrel wants nothing more than to view the lovely Madame Umbilicus, one last, heart-rending moment, before Lord Microsoft’s glowing box is flooded with the all-encompasing Blue magic from the Silicon Valley.  “To arms!” yells the minstrel…

…and the knuckle children did flow.  And the villagers rejoiced.

faultimate! (or, the best of the worst)

roughty, you ran your ass into a tree while trying to wrangle an errant throw from mr stoney. you went all out — ultimate athleticism. you crashed like evil knevil — faulty. hahaha. even the wanna-be-cool-100-dollar-shirt-wearing-barely-able-to-pay-their-rent-venice-beach fuck-o-ramas couldn’t even bring themselves to laugh at you. if i had a video camera, your ass would be the toast of youtube right now. it would look like this:

youtube=roughty_destroying_his_own_self

(not a real link, dummies.)

“yeah, so what’s your point, butt-face?” well, i’ll tell you. this blog is composed of the faultimate citizens of the world. faultimate = faulty/ultimate. faulty = broken or malfunctioning in some or another wise. ultimate = to the maximum extremity of extremocity; not to be surpassed.

sorry that roughty was my poster-child for this description. but before you dickfaces start thinking that you’re not included, don’t worry. you are. i will, forthwith, mention an individual case of your ultimateness and your faultiness — depicted in convenient bite-size stories. i will, of course, include myself, (so danny boy doesn’t have to cry his way to another blog waling, “man, why does everybody have to be so meeeeaaaaannn to me?!”).

stoney, you ass, you were the hook-up master for a little while. you remember? oh yeah. (sorry t.) freshman year, them girls wanted the junk. all it took was one drop of andy roddick’s name, and they came circling about you like so many earring dangling, flashy belt wearing turkey buzzards. let’s all face it. they wanted your johnson… all over them. that, my friend, is ultimate! however, let us not forget to mention the inauspicious occasions. desparation and milwaukee’s best light led to some funny funny situations. how can we forget the ripped jeans girl?! we can’t. she was a laughingstock even before she came crashing to the floor from falling the fuck off robbie mcketta’s bunk! how about that other girl? … the skinny blonde girl with the really pointy nose… you know who i mean. fucking terrible. she was like greg higgins’ girl-piece tina except without the talent and classic beauty. that, sir, is faulty. again demonstrating that this blog is peopled by the faultimate of society. best game, worst scores, stoney. pat yourself on the back, and then give yourself a swirly, you loser.

dankkkkkkkkk, in lieu of a story, i’ll include an image that should say it all. extremely ultimately fucked the fuck up.

yeah, dankkkkkkkkk. faultimate to deff, yo. some people just go insane, but you went ultimately nutso. i can remember stoney giggling, “yo, dankkkk’s craaaazy.” haha. dank, you’re in. the blog was meant for crazy ass psychos like you. enjoy grad school. don’t worry, though. you already saw the local nut-house, and you’re already on the waiting list, so no worries.

tre — (no longer present but worthy of mentioning) some people just skip work. he went on the missing person’s list for like days and days, and his dad came into pet world crying, asking me, “is my son on drugs?!” tre — faultimate. (what’s the etiquette on shittalking somebody who never reads this anymore? sorry, tre. my bad. not deleting it, though.)

drew — do i even have to start? this guy belonged here from the word “go.” blowing lines like it was going out of style and simultaneously intimidating us to pay him 8o bills for a half-g?! faultimate. you’re in, you big nazi-ass mutherfuck.

twitch, i don’t know you like talking about it, so i cannot declare you faultimate. i will assume, though, that you must be. you were friends with stoney, and that alone qualifies you for faultimate status in my book at least. congratulations. you’re among the best of the worst.

stoney’s little shit for brains brother (haganav) — freshman year… yates… fast forward four years… smoking weed in amsterdam… need i say more? no. i needn’t. we’ll be here to welcome you back with open arms when you get extradited back to the usa. (or would that be intradited?)

and last but not least, suityourself. there are so many examples, i don’t know where to begin. robbing the channannello’s for like 350-400 beezies at age 15, eluding the vbpd, only to get hemmed up by my best friend’s parents and made to wash their shitty-ass cars the next day as pennance. kept the money, though. stealing cigarettes and then having a panic attack (my very first one, the start of a long and illustrious friendship) and thinking my heart was going to explode after my first nicotene buzzzz. hitting some guy in the football game so hard he broke some bone and had to get ambulanced away and then, the next day, passing out from a concussion into my salad bowl at the golden corral. these are just a smattering of my faultimate moments. i think i deserve to be among you guys. you’re not wastes of space. you’re ultimate wastes of space. congratulations. let the fantastically worthless blogistry continue uninteruptus.

keep going big. after all, it’s better to burn out than to fade away…

my my hey hey

(wenska’s evil twin.)

Bow to your Master, except Suit, I need a Dr.’s Appointment

Well, neophytes, mongloids, troglodytes, and our readers, ol’ dank has done it again– 
Er got it done for him by his friends.  You are now reading the words of a future ex-masters student sure to be defamed and broken by the iron hand of american higher education.  Well, by iron hand, i more like mean crippled grip that lets the waste of the future generation slip through its fingers and into the bowels of bullshit.  I must tell all you little stonies that if your heart desires titles, respect, publishing outlets, and degrees in higher higher education simply wait for your good buddy to do it and then ride his coat-tails.  This is the stoney way.  It goes back to the beginning of time and only the savage can guiltlessly ride the wave of others’ success and call it their own. 

Stoney himself cheated his balls off of my econ exam one time for a 65.  Except he was too lazy to do it well and fell short of my 66.  Then we walked 20 yards out the door and convinced ourselves that tests are illegitimate (arguable) and that tests aren’t real (even more likely) and neither is the world–all over a big fat boombalatty. 

Roughty is currently in his seventh year and is a sophomore.  Twitch, never went to school because he could not tear himself away from his mother’s teat and has been home-schooled for fear his mothers always says-quote-They’re all gonna laugh at you.  Suit, well Pet World here we come.  I think we gotta get a few piles of dog food for me to lay on while you take care of the bidnaz.  I’ll just write some poetry and sneak you cigaweeds in the back by the dumpsters. 

 Well, I’m still sitting here at work waiting for somebody to tell me what to do.  This will be my eighth consecutive hour of waiting for directions while i get paid for this bloggity blogerfification.  I just want to let you all know that you can pursue graduate work by never going to class, never reading books, never staying awake when there, never stopping smoking weed, never trying, and always, always giving it your worst.