Writer note: If you decide to order these books from Amazon.com, it would be greatly appreciated if you use the links embedded in the post as a part of the Amazon Affiliate Program. Each book bought by those links sends a cut of the profits to keep the site running.
A bachelor pad is an oasis in the desert of bad apartments. If your body is a temple and your target’s body is a temple, the pad should be the holy land on which the temples collide. Consider this a recommended list of flora and fauna for your “cradle of life.”
Books never expire or change… they don’t break as easily as expensive plasticine trinkets and when used right can open your eyes and mind to previously unknown possibilities and perspectives. I’m of the mind that books, with some obvious exceptions, are one of the most solid investments you can make.
Consider your bookshelf a profile of your brain. A billboard of your brain without the pomposity of braggadocio and an easy icebreaker that informs as well as stimulates.
This book is a must-have for any man or woman in this topsy-turvy world. It presents important philosophical principles in an easily digestible way with the backdrop of a cross-country motorcycle trip between father and son.
Don’t let the title deceive you: this book will change your entire world view. Concepts like classical and romantic thinking will become profiles for understanding your fellow man’s thought processes. You will understand the Metaphysics of Quality and, inevitably, recommend this book to anyone you value in your life. I know I do.
Continue reading ‘A Bachelor’s Bookshelf’
I’m yanking the dead meat off of YouTube like fat ole Uncle Jessup at Thanksgiving grabbing a drumstick.
I’ve been mulling over removing many of my videos from YouTube for a long time. Occasionally in stupid emotional fits, others in cold rationality, and yet again after enough drinks to put down a medium sized caribou. But this time it’s in the works and I won’t take any bitching about it, mainly because the videos aren’t really leaving as such. They are just migrating.
Anything that contains copyrighted material is being torn out and remastered. Any video that I think is either topic-based and long past it’s expiration date or is not work I am proud of will be ripped from it’s sockets. After the peices are scrubbed and primped, they will be Frankensteined here for those of you who actually enjoy the videos.
Allow me to explain: Haberdashery is a big step for me. Huge, actually. It’s a reinvention in the most extreme sense of the word in that I don’t plan on going back to the old state of mind. Ever.
YouTube appealed to me originally because it was the upstart rebel platform to the established, hulking giants of the media. Now, it IS the damn media and the nastiest people are settling in like maggots in a rotting log. I saw the revolutionary turn into the dictator, and I decided it best to leave town.
Continue reading ‘Tearing The “Asshole” Out Of YouTube’
I recently read an article on Kingmag.com called “The 5 Best Video Games To Play With Your Girlfriend”.
To sum up the article in brief: Fitness, cooking, karaoke, trivia and cel-shaded “family safe” crapola.
Seriously. That’s what the article suggests you play with the love of your life.
Fuck that1.
I want a girl who get’s pissed if we own an XBOX360 but not Gears of War. I want a girl who can headshot me with a pistol from across Blood Gulch and still melt my heart when I glare at her over my controller. I want a girl who can whip my ass at any game on any console with a little practice, or at least give me a run for my money.
Continue reading ‘Girly Girl Gamers’
2:26 AM, Hollyweird time.
The video is uploading now and I’m terrified.
Anyone who has worked freakishly hard on a project to be shown to the public must feel like this. I slaved, I sweated, I bled and I lost sleep over this, and by god it was worth it. Can’t wait to do it again.
This is sincerely the best video I’ve ever made, and I’m scared nobody is going to like it.
An irrational fear, obviously. On a spinning rock populated by 6 billion people SOMEone is bound to like it. I mean in a world where Pauly Shore was king for a day there’s hope for anyone, right?
2:36 AM, Hollyweird time.
Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god.
3:00 AM, Hollyweird time.
Continue reading ‘My ASS-terpeice- Haberdashery Episode 1′
Welcome to the first ever edition of “Ask Boh3m3!”
I put out a bulletin on Myspace asking for your questions and a good bunch of you got back to me.
From now on, you’ll be able to submit questions to me via the form embedded on each of these “Ask Boh3m3!” entries.
So without further ado, THE QUESTIONS!!! Dun dun DUUUUUUUUN!
Continue reading ‘Ask Boh3m3! 10/14/08′
Author note: The title is intentional. I snobbishly thrust my nose up at those of you who don’t “get it” and stroke my writer ego.
It’s one of those mornings. Those of you of drinking age know exactly what I’m talking about when I say that perhaps that last half dozen shot’s worth of liquor was ill advised.
Trapped in the pseudo-hangover limbo. The alcohol is burning off leaving me woozy, hot and staring into the distance like a catatonic with the wrong meds. Too tired to stay awake and too woozy to fall asleep. I am the walking dead now, and there’s not a brain to munch on in sight.
Imagining my stomach doing wobbly hula-hoop loops around my waist.
Imagining what it’ll be like to have a bathroom reunion with last night’s tuna and buttery rice mix.
And thinking about the first time I ever got drunk.
Continue reading ‘My First Drunk (Part 1)’
Love and kisses, Beer.
They agreed to have a brawl in my stomach. It became Thunderdome, but without any inclination for “one man leave.” Well… not at first.
That, for the most part, is all I can write with any sort of confidence. The rest of the night went the way of Jack Kerouac, Billie Holiday and F. Scott Fitzgerald.
I had become a time traveler with no history written down to catch up on. Below is what ran through my mind the next morning.
Continue reading ‘My First Drunk (Part 2)’
…and it’s going to kill you some day.
When I was small enough to consider a cardboard box equivalent to spaceships, submarines and time machines, Television was my friend. More than that, I think. Television was family.
I sat every morning with my father, eating Coco Puffs1, watching about 15 minutes of Woody Woodpecker before my dear old dad inevitably turned on aerobics.
Continue reading ‘Your Television Loves You [Act 1]‘
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