Brain Poops

Hello boh3m3ians! Just thought I would wish you all a happy Easter (if you celebrate it that is… otherwise happy get drunk and eat chocolate day). I know it’s a bit of a cop-out from an actual blog post, but I’ve had a busy couple of days so far.

So in the meantime, you can watch a strangely shaped little person sing and dance on doubleviking. That, or my newest video.

Stay cool.

T-Shirt of the day:

It has been more than a few months with this gate open, and frankly I’m finished. Any purpose of showing this video to anyone would be simply for archival purposes, as I think it’s obvious that an overwhelming majority of people find the video disgusting and depraved. Besides, I’m tired of getting an email about new comments and finding out they are all the same group of 13-19 year olds saying the same damn thing. It’s boring, kids.

While not as widespread as the 2g1c phenomenon, I believe with the videos and comments we have accrued here it is quite obvious that while 2g1c may have done it first, the video previously linked to here definitly did it better.

So with that, the video link is deleted and the comments section will be frozen. The warning has been left intact for consistency and a written record. Sightly altered original post follows.

WARNING!

This link is first and foremost intended for people over the age of 18. Assuming you are over 18, you are warned that the link is not safe for work, home, or any other possible place where you could view content. It is hosted on a site with pornographic ads, and the video itself includes body modification to an extreme degree. Those with a weak stomach for blood should not view this video.

(continue reading…)

You know that bit in Beetlejuice when the two lead characters ask Mr. Juice if he’s qualified? When all you see is him from behind and those tentacle things burst from his head? I feel like that right about now… only with snot tentacles… and they aren’t even prehensile! As gross as it may be, I think prehensile snot tentacles would be a huge step up from where I’m at right now. I mean at the very minimum they could probably hold a cigarette for me or help me shave. That might be sweet in a disease-ridden mucous kind of way.

There’s a whole crapload of crap I need to unload on you guys, so strap in for the long haul… let’s see if my fingers work more efficiently than my immune system.

(continue reading…)

[Please pardon my spelling errors. I suck at life]
The saying goes “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” There are tons of variations, though. You may know it as “You love most what you don’t have”, or perhaps “beer tastes best when you can’t find a six pack before sunday in a dry county.” It all depends on the region I suppose.

My stepdad retired from the National Guard this weekend, and with a week’s notice and a very pricey ticket I was on my way. Four days in the south might do me some good, I thought. And you know what? It kind of has.

I could go into the normal shebang about how airport security sucks and how pricey even the most basic items are, but it would be nothing you haven’t heard before. I can tell you that a breakfast sandwich composed of instant eggs and a teaspoon of sausage at Silvio DiSalvatores Sausage Empire costs approximately 8 dollars by itself and tastes of the assness. Been there. Done that.

In fact the only seemingly unique part of my trip to the south was the particular bouquet emenating from the fat[ter] guy sitting next to me. It was a combination of urine, root beer, and old spice. To my best estimation, he probably passed out in a puddle of maple syrup, pissed himself, and then in a rush to get on the flight doused himself in old spice [I'm told it's called an italian shower].

But I arrived back in Bama with little delay to meet the bit of family that had assembled for the ceremony. It was nice to see my dear old mum again. I have nothing but apreciation for a parent who knows enough about her son to bring a bottle of Crown to the hotel. We talked, we drank, we ate cruddy food. It was pretty nice.

All this took place in a little town near Birmingham called Gadsden. Gadsden looks like it was built within the last five years and had people imported in to make it look lived in. All of the buildings had that popcorn stucco look so common these days. I had half hoped the Wal Mart would be made of wood, but my dreams were dashed against the giant stuccomonster looming across from the hotel.

The ceremony was everything one would expect in a military event. Sharp, to the point, and delayed. I was impressed, however, by the shadowbox they made for my stepfather. It’s a gorgeous case made out of wood and glass with a blue velvet [insert Dennis Hopper joke here] backing that holds all of the medals and ribbons he has recieved in the past 20+ years or so of service. It was purty.

But being back in the south reminded me why I wanted to leave so much. This, for once, is not a jab at the people but more the vibe of the cities I went through. As friendly as southerners are in general, there doesn’t seem to be much drive there. Or perhaps that’s something that I see in myself because of how I feel here. I’ve always been one to push forward in pursuit of progress. I just dont feel that way down here. My motivation gets stuck in the mud, so to speak.

But for the moment, I’m going to kick back, sip sweet tea, and bullshit with locals about that damned Brittany Spears. It’s rather nice.

10. Flail your arms about while recording and scream “IT’S NOT MY FAULT!!! IT’S NEVER MY FAULT I AM NEVER WROOOONG!”

9. Pass the blame to the next person in line.

8. Get Drama reaaally drunk and insist it hit on the fat chick at the bar.

7. Convert to Judaism.

6. Run.

5. Assert that the person making accusations is Republican.

4. Hold a press release in your bedroom directed at inanimate objects with a fork microphone [note, do not attempt #6 while holding fork]

3. Wake drama up in the middle of the night and say the world is on fire. Urinate out of open window. Assure drama that everything will be alright.

2. Mope.

1. Do nothing.  Drama is drama and it only gets worse.