what...

My dad called me today and asked me if Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem were in the Rock and Roll hall of fame. I told him they weren't and he asked why. Instead of telling him that they weren't a real band and were a creation of the Muppet Show I told him that it took Black Sabbath 6 years to get in after being eligible*.

If you've ever wondered why this blog is the way it is here is why; I was raised by a man that likes the work of puppeteers more than rock musicians yet he's been playing guitar since he was fourteen years old. With all these mixed signals it's kind of a surprise I waste time on the internet instead of spending my days with attempted burglary, selling fake drugs or being gay.**

* This was wrong, they got inducted after 8 years of eligibility.

** All can easily be done on the internet.

Shaft 2

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

deaf...

I once pretended to be deaf rather than give directions to a motorist. And that's just the beginning.

what?

what? yes.  fuck the international olympic committee...tanya harding...bring that shit back to nashaville..

church...

Today I asked my friend Reginald what he's doing for Halloween. Reginald and his fiancee are going to be hanging out with some of their friends. These particular friends have children, one of which is soon to be baptized. Reginald is slated to be this child's Godfather. I told Reginald he needs to get this kid a present and it doesn't matter what it is but he needs to wrap the present up in the shape of a horse's head. If that's not a good punchline I don't know what is.

doppelgangers...

This is a picture of Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs at a recent show in Boston...

And this is a picture of Galactus: Destroyer of Worlds...

And this is a picture of me not wearing pants...

And this has been the nerdiest post ever on Blog and Main. Thanks for reading!

transportation...

I don't take kindly to bicycling. Ever since a simple ride one summer lead to me getting a skull fracture, multiple concussions and a (debatable) mental condition. It literally took me 8 minutes just to think of the phrase "mental condition". Anyway, today was the day where I found my glorious dream bike. Without any further ado...

Seriously? You really think you need to lock this thing up?

telemarketing...

Last week, while at my place of business, I got into an argument of sorts with a telemarketer. Recently, all the telemarketers that call us are "calling on behalf of the yellow pages" to "update their free business listing" and "annoy the god fucking shit out of me personally". Whenever you try and stop them they tell you that your workplace is already subscribing to their services. I recently tried stopping one of these fools. The conversation went something like this.

Him - "Hello sir, this is ______ calling on behalf of the yellow pages!"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "But sir, you are already subscribing to our services!"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Sir, [he said a bunch of stuff here but I wasn't listening, just saying "Can you please take us off your list?" at least three times]"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Could I please speak to the owner or manager please?"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Could I please speak to the owner or manager please?"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Could I please speak to the owner or manager please?"

me - "Can you please take us off your list?"

Him - "Sir, you are just saying the same thing over and over again*. Could I please speak to the owner or manager?"

me - "Can you PLEASE take us off your list?"

Him - "Fine... I will put you on the 'Do not call list'. Have a good day."

*Normally I'd probably call him out for saying the say thing as well but I wasn't about to break character. Now, I realize he's not the real asshole in the situation, nor am I. The real asshole here is the fucker that owns the company this poor bastard works for. I've decided that in the future it will be my new goal to get these people to hang up but without me being rude to them. The only obvious way to do this is to tell them jokes until they realize you aren't even close to a responsible human being and stop talking to you. He's a transcript of today's battle with one.

him - "Hello sir, this is David calling from (I forget but it was some company on behalf of the yellow pages)."

me - "David, I have a proposal for you"

him - "Okay sir..."

me - "If I can make you laugh will you promise to never call here again?"

him - "Sir, I will put you on the do not call list right now. Have a good day."

So what's going on here? I ask politely to be taken off the list and it takes me ten times to successfully do so then when I'm not trying they think I'm a psychotic clown and want nothing to do with me? Do they have that little faith in a stranger's sense of humor? I was just trying to brighten his day and still failed. Next time there will be no formalities, I'm coming out swinging with my best joke (it's about fish) followed by my second best joke (also about fish).

Stop Interneting

When was the last time someone over 50 years old sent you a "FWD:" email and there was any sort of payoff whatsoever?  Fucking old people.

Nine Eleven

My nephew is only 6 years old, so today before he went to school I had to explain to him the signifigance of this day. You see, 9/11 is a day where we all look back and reflect on our favorite 9/11 jokes.

Why were all the brokers at Goldman Sachs fired? Because they were told to get pepperoni for their last meeting and all they got was plane.

doppelgangers...

I met one recently. I am the less successful/well known one of the two of us. It's kinda fun being a bum. I'm sure it's fun having a cult following if you're in the band Explosions in the Sky though. Oh well. Good for us.

Animal Cruelty: Dogs shouldn't have to be Cowboys

One day, when the magic of Mr Clean's Magic Eraser hits the common man, there will be no more graffiti.  But until then, graffiti is the only true mirror of society.  And thank god for that.  How can art be so perfectly insane but also insanely perfect?  This reminds me of the portrait of the virgin Mary in my grandmothers house where the eyes follow you no matter where you look at it from.  It's creepy as shit, downright evil, and you wanna look away...but it is soooo good.

letters...

We hate things here that involve the letter "A". The state of Alabama, the Oakland A's, anxiety attacks and antiquing are all perfect examples. Another great example of this is the fact that we rarely post on months that begin with the letter "A". Sorry for the delay but that's just how it goes around here. Another group of people hated the letter "A". They were puritans that famed author Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote about in his classic tale "the Scarlet Letter". The main difference here is that we love woman with little or no morals. If I could go out to a bar and tell which girls liked being moral-less* just by a single letter sewn onto their cloak that would make things a HELL of a lot easier for me. Anyway, since N. Hawthorne and I share a birthday and are both accomplished writers I thought I'd take a stab at updating one of his many stories. Not totally a sequel but not too far off. Here's part one....

The Scarlet Letter: the updated version for someone of my caliber

This takes place remarkabley close to the setting of the original story of shame and banishment, my current domicile.The apartment I am currently living in occupies the second and third floors of a fairly unassuming house on the outer edge of a (ie THE) major New England city. The occupants of this apartment have all lived here longer than I. Things have been slightly shakey since moving in. Just slightly though, you know, a blocked in car here, a few hundred dollars there nothing predominately as noticeable as one of those richter scale shakedowns on dramatic television. Most of the time there is hardly any interaction between us. There are six of us total and yet, for the most part, if I need to see someone they must be sought after. Conflicting work schedules help this but my room is the only bedroom on the second floor. The rest of the dwellers tend to dwell on the third floor in their designated rooms. The only rooms on the third floor that are not bedrooms are bathrooms. Two full baths right next to one another. Either the result of an architect with a stutter or a landlord that almost took segregation to a new level. He'd allow mixed races to live in the place he owned but they, for absolutely no reasons whatsoever, share a bathing chamber. Hypothetically, of course. The other five residents tend to their bathrooms while I use the THIRD full bath on the second floor. Excessive? Well this isn’t the puritans America anymore. They went through all their hardships so the philistines of the modern times didn’t have to walk up or down stairs to urinate or bathe inside. So on my morning commute through the dining room and kitchen to the semi final destination of the bathroom went by just like it does every other day. Upon my entering of said bathroom I was greeted somewhat abruptly with a very large, ahem, shall we say “suprise”, waiting for me in the bowl of the second largest device in that room. It had been therre for some time and was rather unpleasant to look at. The flushing of said device was soon to follow but not before I noticed that there was a lack of assistance paper in that watery hell hole. Though unpleasant I found this scenario wildly amusing. Since we live in the modern day city life and not say, colonial times or say, "inside of a run down gas station in Atlanta that once gave me nightmares" it’s generally not something I’d ever expect to see. Maybe in a college dormitory but certainly not my own home. Clearly, someone was sending me a message, a rather serious one at that. Why else would someone defecate within a bathroom and not flush? But whom could it be? Which of the over dwellers would do such a thing? I am a firm believer in the notion of the person you suspect the least is the most obvious candidate. Mankind tends to be devious and I'd have it no other way.

conclusion to follow...

*boned

Genesis: English Progressive Rock or First Five Books of the Torah?

.

Let me just start out with a standard disclaimer:  I like black people.  Some of my best black friends are black people.  In fact, aside from the inability to be judged on who you are versus what you look like, I would kill to be black.

On second thought, I think I just hate white people.  White people use to be creative.  White people invented bad ass crap like wheels, fire, even KFC.  Shit, even 8 of the apostles were white.  And come to think of it, I think that is where this white races' collective creativity came to a screeching halt.  

You have to name 12 apostles and you use JAMES fucking twice?  Jesus fucking Christ, you are making up the god damn book and you can't even come up with some original names?

This is where black people have the white people licked now.  We use to lean on the fact that two separate names would make everyone unique, maybe you would need a third, or middle name, to tell two people apart.  Not any more though.  F that.  Every name is unique.

Take the University of Georgia backfield for example.  Let's look at their once proud football team and JUST SPECIFICALLY their running backs.  Last year they graduated someone named KNOWSHON (pronounced: NO shawn) and then bring in someone named Washaun (pronounced: WAY shawn).  NO WAY!  They even missed out on a recruit named Storm Johnson...which sounds generic as shit and then all of a sudden you are like "that's a freaking bad ass name!"  For comparison sake, a school like William And Mary graduated 13 "Mike"s from the football squad.  (editors note:  by "graduate", I mean Knowshon completed 15 credit hours and then signed a 23 million dollar deal with the Denver Broncos.)

So here is the challenge whitey.  Blog and Main will GIVE $1,000 (in store credit to our yet to be created B&M Store) to any white couple that names their kid Sussudio.  Think about it?  Phil Collins totally gave you less creative white people a jumping off point and I don't think anyone has used it.  You better hurry before Brangelina picks up some Pretorian orphan preemie and your kid spends the rest of their lives listening to Sussudio Pitt go on and on about how unoriginal "Aden" is.

warning...

Blog and main presents: the best sign you will ever see on a fence.

Wisdom from the urinal - 1st Edition

There are two things I like in this world, and they are both bathroom attendants. I think that is what they are called anyway...what else do you call the guy who sits in the bathroom and waits with bated breath for the opportunity to be THE GUY that hands you a towel. God I love him. Sometimes I wash both my arms and my face just so he can hand me a couple of towels. Then I'm all over his potpourri of crap...I'll get a stick of Wrigley's, maybe a spritz of knock-off Drakkar Noir, a Trojan or two, maybe a spearamint candy. It's like Christmas got kicked in the junk by Halloween and all I wanted to do was take a pee!

I am getting off topic a bit.

So last night I go to the bathroom. (It's a tradition I've incorporated in to average nights of drinking. Has something to do with a bladder and gravity. ) I'm doing my thing at urinal #3 and the bathroom attendant is literally whistling Dixie. I finish and approach his office - the sink counter. He asks me how I'm doing and I respond with "Not as good as you apparently." I asked him why he is so happy and he says:

"In life, as long as you are walking on the dirt and the dirt isn't walking on you, everything is alright..."

I still have no idea what this mean, but it gave me a tremendous sense of serenity. I almost curled up in his lap and asked him to read me a story like only Uncle Nigel could. I must have repeated this nugget of wisdom 100 times last night and it never got old.

If your job is to watch people piss and shit all day, you come up with some pretty outstanding philosophies on life. I have a tendency to start features on B&M only to never have a second edition. My pledge to you, the reader, is to collect more shit on life from those whose life is to watch shit. And that is why this will be known as the 1st Edition.

merchandise...

We here at B & M are dedicated on building a brand we are proud of. Who wouldn't be proud of topical Michael Jackson death jokes, Fargo cakes and of course scooters? Like every brand, we eventually plan on selling a bunch of stuff. It will get to the point where we will have all sorts of officially licensed merchandise like t-shirts, stickers, pants, dice, skateboards, watermelons, Ben and Jerry's flavors and the like but in the meantime we are going to have to make do with this pickle martini mug from urbandictionary.com available in many styles and sizes. It definitely takes the act of the pickle martini to another level if successfully performed with a glass that says "pickle martini" right on it. First one to successfully do it with one of these mugs with video proof gets a free Blog and Main t-shirt!*

*whenever we get those.

Tales from the Poker Table - Love is a Battlefield Edition

Goofy white guy (not me though): What is the all-access badge for?

Enormous black guy:  I'm with the Pat Benatar show.

GWG:  No seriously.

EBG:  Seriously.

GWG:  Wow, I didn't picture you with Pat Benatar

EBG:  Why not?

[pause]

GWG (trying to smooth things over):  I bet you have some sweet stories from the road...

EBG:  Not really.

[awkward silence]

GWG:  So what do you do for the show?

EBG:  I drive the bus.

GWG:  Still that must be pretty cool, seeing different places all the time.

EBG:  What part of driving a fucking bus sounds fun to you?

[awkward silence for the next 45 minutes or so]

Camp Hypocrite

This is like when a "B" (or AA), can say the "N" word but a "W" (or C) can't.  Camp Twitch and Shout?  No way I could ever get away with that!  F this.

too soon?

Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys has a cancerous tumor in one of his salivary glands. We here at Blog and Main wish him the best of luck and a speedy recovery. As a public service announcement we'd also like to remind the rest of you to...

nostalgia...

Chances are if you are reading this, you have eaten at the chain known as Domino's Pizza*. During the 80's they had a marketing campaign featuring a character the "Noid". His entire existence was making pizzas inedible so obviously he was an employee of Dominos. The whole point was to "avoid the Noid" meaning you should eat decent pizza. It made absolutely no goddamn sense whatsoever. According to his Wikipedia page he was not actually funny but more importantly it also said the following...

In 1989, Kenneth Lamar Noid, a mentally ill customer who thought the ads were a personal attack on him, held two employees of an Atlanta, Georgia Domino's restaurant hostage for over five hours. After forcing them to make him a pizza and making demands for $100,000, getaway transportation, and a copy of The Widow's Son, Noid surrendered to the police.^[1] Noid was charged with kidnapping, aggravated assault, extortion, andpossession of a firearm during a crime. He was found not guilty by reason of insanity.

Aren't you glad you've avoided him for so long?*

*sadly

If Akon, U can.

Look, I don't know Lady Gaga, but I assume she is a nice gal.  Most british royalty are.  But from what I can tell, all she likes to do is fuck and gamble...and if there is one thing I look for in a deity...it is those two things.  She is the kinda gal that is a hushed whisper away from selling you on anal and before you can ask a follow-up she has smoked your finest Cohiba Robusto without using her lips.  If marriage was an 8-letter word for hate-screw I would have said "I DO" a month ago.

FAFOT: July 15, 1944

.

Is wndr I aint left all m’ideals, seem so

absrd+ imprctcl.Yet I cling 2 dem bcuz I stll

blieve,d spite evrythg, dat ppl r truly good @ hrt

.

.

Remembering the most shocking death ever to follow a successful suicide attempt

Look, I miss Michael Jackson as much as any kid misses his blanky when it's gone.  (I mean, as much as any kid misses his blanky that he or she repeatedly has sex with in between awkward public appearances and denials on 60 minutes.)  But seriously, how disturbed must Michael have been to insist on having white kids?  More surprisingly, how rich do you have to be have the surgery done where your sperm color chromosomes are altered from black to white?  Unreal.  I mean that has to cost at least $50K a job right?  And what if you get an urge in a public restroom to relieve your sexual anxiety?  $50K in a generic kleenex flush - that's what happens.  And what is this procedure called?  Liponegroplasty?  Arianaugmentation?  Honkimplants?  What happens to Mike Jr when he brings out 5 inches of Billy Jean to some P.Y.T. on prom night, only to discover pops embarrassed the man in the mirror by not knowing if he was black or white?  The only good news to come out of this death is the kids FINALLY got to see Staples Center at the memorial today since Lakers playoff basketball, WWE Monday Night Raw, and Brittany Spears Circus were all sold out there earlier this month.  Today's tribute was an appropriate end to a versatile pigmented entertainer in perhaps the most versatile of venues.  

Forgotten Memories Remembered Again Finally

This weekend, a great friend of B&M died, Mr. Steve McNair.  Although we never met, it was clear that our relationship could not be weakened by distance or reality.  On these trying days following the loss, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on all the things he taught us...

For many years I thought Steve McNair was the americanized name of former CFL great Warren Moon.  I was young when the two of them overlapped careers, but it was an honest mistake.  I mean, come on, TWO black quarterbacks?  With the same franchise?  In Texas?  This was when Spike Lee was relevant and he use to make stories up so that he could make movies about reality.  I can't be the only one who thought they looked a like and talked a like.  I bet if you ask any other person who grew up in a predominantly white sheltered neighborhood without blacks they would say the same thing to.

Mr McNair also fueled my love for business and marketing at a young age.  I was so confused why his nickname of "Air McNair" was readily accepted as nouveau and hip when it was really just rhyming alliteration.  It wasn't necessarily McNair's fault, but I still blame him for the failed launch of this 18 year olds failed marketing career, as well as the never-blossomed sports apparel lines of "Shock and Darrell dAWEkins" and "Spud wEBB and Flow".

Certainly Titans fans, as well as sports fans in general, will always be grateful to McNair for letting us know it is ok to booo a black quarterback.  Shortly after Rosa Parks stepped off the bus and Warren Moon was inserted into the starting lineup for the Oilers, people weren't really sure what etiquette should be in the stands.  McNair diffused a potentially awkward race war by consistently throwing comedically bad interceptions.

Steve "LaTreal" McNair and his wife Mechelle also taught me that proper names can be whatever the hell you want them to be.

Lastly, dude was pulling down 19 year old tang at age 36.  That doesn't really teach me anything, but it does confirm that when you are rich you can do whatever the hell you want to do.  Oh wait, don't date chicks with guns.  Lesson learned.  Thank you Air.

He will be missed.

cake...

For the record, I'm arguably the most sarcastic asshole that posts on this blog. For further proof check out this and then this. So today was the big day, the day of reckoning. Cake reckoning. If you have no idea what I am talking about you need to read those links I just posted. I'll wait.

You done yet?

Good.

So when I told my mom via my dad about me having a birthday cake based off the movie Fargo, one of two things was going to happen...

1. I was going to get a regular birthday cake and a big pile of shame.
2. It was going to be awesome.

Being that my mom went to the establishment known as Niko's Cakes less than a week ago and ordered a "Fargo themed cake" from a confused, elderly Greek man who has probably never seen anything the Coen brothers have ever done, the second option was ultimately the one that happened. Without further ado...

Remember when the Lundegaards went cross country skiing at the base of a mountain in Aspen? No? Me either.

Is this the scene where Marge and Norm Gunderson went on a romantic ski retreat and conceived their child?

Remember this scene when Carl Showalter and Gaear Grimsrud go skiing together after going to Pancakes House and Carl got put through a wood chipper. Oops, SPOILERS! Anyway, that didn't actually happen in the film. So what's going on here exactly? Is this cake based off some deleted scenes? No, it's definitely not. Except for the concept of "winter" there are absolutely no similarities between this cake and the movie Fargo. That's because, despite of excellent craftsmanship, THERE ARE NO MOUNTAINS IN FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA! It's not really a bad cake but this thing is wildly inaccurate and by no means Oscar™ caliber. It's way more elaborate than any set design in that entire film with the exception of that huge Paul Bunyan Statue. This thing was the real deal though, that mountain wasn't just a pile of frosting, no, there was definitely a cake-like center to it. I guess if you want an accurate looking cake you actually need to give the baker, like, details and shit. Maybe a picture? Netflix subscription? Plane ticket to the upper midwest? Despite all that, it was delicious. I listened to the theme from Fargo while I ate which at least added some realism to this fiasco. And by "fiasco" I mean "best goddamn birthday ever".

A very special "thank you" to my parents for encouraging my bullshit, everyone that made Fargo, Niko of Niko's Cakes and Neko Case because that's almost the same thing as Niko's Cakes. And because she's really hot. If you are reading this Neko have a happy birthday if you are reading this on your birthday.

Adult Rock

Comprehensive review of Lynard Skynard and Kid Rock. (what i won't do for the readers)

• Watching this version of Lynard Skynard, as old as they were, I was surprised they made it through last week...with everyone dying and everything. This was the first time I saw a band close out saying "GOOD NIGHT, TEXAS!", and I thought to myself...they really are going to bed now.
• It seems like just 50 years ago it was ok to make comments about having different bathrooms for white and black folk, or that women can vote, or that abortion was ok if it was accident. Point is, times change. But I still can't figure out when it was ok to come up with the song "What's your name - Little Girl?" And if that wasn't creepy enough, haivng random pictures of girls on the screen behind the band didn't help. Not just random pictures of hot women, I mean these girls were either 18, or 18 in one year, or in some cases 18 in two or three more years. Creepy. Erotic, but creepy.
• Favorite part of the night was the screens behind Skynard during that song that goes "ohhhh..that smell", everytime the lyric was "that smell" there would be huge "THAT SMELL" words floating around the screen. But it was done in WortArt in Microsoft Word and apparently they only had ARIAL font on that computer. Maybe you had to be there to enjoy...but you probably wouldnt have wanted to be there.
• Kid Rock was exactly what was expected. Nothing spectacular. Look, when your shtick is midgets and strippers...bring some god damn midgets and strippers. He had neither. It was like watching Henry Winkler pitch fast actin Tinactin. No leather jacket. No "heyyyyy". And another thing...you might be good at music. You might be talented. But don't try to prove it by doing Brown Eyed Girl on the drums and Chopsticks on the piano. I swear I thought he was going to hit DEMO on the keyboard and pretend like he was playing.
• When I put my right fist up, girls say "Kid", when I put my left fist up, guys say "Rock". White trash Romper Room.

Canada...

That place turns 140 years old today. Meanwhile, the Moustache turned approximately 2309 years old. Congratulations Canada but you still have a long way to go. I hope Tim Horton's has some sort of beaver shaped maple log on this fine "holiday".

dad...

Today is Monday. On Saturday I threw a party. I will write more about it later when I can fathom all the details of what actually happened. It's hard knowing all those details with the amount of booze consumed that night. Also, I kinda time travelled because I literally slept the entire day on Sunday, but who knows, that could've been those Klonopins. All I know is that it was definitely the best party ever and if you missed it you REALLLLY missed out. Anyway, here is a phone conversation I had today with my dad. Things that you need to know about this conversation are...

1 ) my roommate "Chang" is the groundskeeper of the property we live on.

2 ) for this party I borrowed two huge buckets from my folks to use as coolers for beer.

3 ) right before this phone call I had just finished drinking a beer that I found in my closet that I apparently left in there on Saturday and did not finish.

4 ) if someone decided to make my life a movie, the guy they'd cast as my dad, without question would be Jeff Goldblum.

5 ) all of this is completely real.*

Dad - So, uhh, I overheard your mother talking on the phone to your cousin about your party the other night.... something about a flamethrower? What's that all about?

Me - Industrial grade blowtorch, yeah. Chang has it for removing small brush around the property. He used it to start a fire in the firepit in our back yard.

Dad - Aah, I see. So... besides a 'blowtorch', what else did you guys have?

Me - Well, I dressed up in a gorilla suit but instead of a gorilla head I had a bunny mask.

Dad - Gorilla suit... okay, what else?

Me - There was a slip and slide...

Dad - Aaaaaaah, a slip and slide! You should have told us! We would've been there!

Me - Well it's still here if you want to come over.

Dad - Nah, that's ok. Umm, let's see what else, do you have those buckets?

Me - Yup.

Dad - Can you bring those over for our party on Friday? Are you working that day?

Me - I'm not working that day so yeah, I'll bring them over sometime before then.

Dad - Your mother wants to know what kind of cake you want for your birthday...

Me - I would like a cake based on the movie Fargo.

Dad - You would like a cake based on the movie Fargo?

Me - Yeah... (trying desparately not to laugh at this)

Dad - What do you mean exactly?

Me - I'm thinking, like, a white sheet cake with a mini Steve Buscemi on there burying a bag of money... you know, in the frosting.

Dad - So you want a cake based on a scene of that movie and not on a cake that they had in that movie?

Me - Exactly! Do you want to borrow the DVD to see what I'm talking about?

Dad - Yeah, sure

We went on to talk about music and how he wants to be in a sweet instrumental band that covers OutKast and how I have to drop off buckets and a DVD this week. Things are looking good on that Fargo cake, more to report soon!!!!

* I swear I'm not lying

Fucked Economy Lesson #2: Time equals money

Times are tough.  Fox news told me so.  And poor people often say you can have all the money in the world but you can't get more time.  Well I think those people are fucking liars.  So check this peeps...

I've had the same alarm clock for 17 years.  No shit...it even has a place for audio cassettes that you can wake to.  Over the years I have mastered the one-hand blind alarm slap to buy me an extra 7 minutes of snooze time.  I heart the snooze...it is my only AM friend besides coffee and porn.

But alas it has seen better days so off to Exxon for a new one.  So this new clock, all the bells and whistles, including AM AND FM radio and a dimmer for the light.  It's like mood lighting in a pinch.  But most notably this clock has a FIVE minute snooze alarm.  Unfortunately, I cannot shake my pattern of hitting the snooze 7 times each morning.  So now, instead of 49 minutes of snooze, i'm banking 35 minutes of snooze.  And you won't believe this... I FEEL the same as I did before.  Just as refreshed.

So meet me over at the math chalk board.  14 minutes a day saved, times 5 days a week, times 52 weeks a year.  Presto!  I just bought your ass another TWO AND HALF DAYS A YEAR for FREE!  Where's your 3conomics now Wendy's??  

You're welcome faithful readers.

too soon?

"Too soon?" is never soon enough.

mom...

You probably aren't reading this mom, mostly because the last (and first) time you saw this blog I told you never to come here again and threw a hammer and a glass of really hot water at your laptop but just this once I will make an exception. As you know, mom, well, my birthday is coming up. We both know I don't ask for much... Okay, sure, there was that incident with the police in Burlington, VT but we cleared that up 'no questions answered', remember? Yes, I know you are getting me a new set of tires for my automobile even though you clearly know I don't like driving safe. Why else do you think I drove that car around with an expired inspection sticker for four years?! Mom, I just took a dump in the kitchen. I know you're worried but don't be because the place I live now has a toilet next to the stove. And you wondered why I have to move out at the end of the month. Granted, the three paper towels I wiped with that are currently clogging it may be an issue but we'll let someone with a college degree worry about that. Anyway, I'm here to make a special birthday request. I know you have given up on asking me what kind of birthday cake I would like since I stopped caring about that eight years ago but I've finally decided on what I want. From now until every single birthday from now I would like a birthday cake based on the movie Fargo*. This year we can start simple. I'm envisioning a white sheet cake with a small fence going through the middle of it with a miniature, bleeding Steve Buscemi on it trying to bury a bag of money. You know, under the frosting. On the opposite side of the fence you can have big red block letters that say, you know, like "It's your birthday don'cha know? Ooh yeah?" that are somehow written in a North Dakota accent. Bakers can pretty much do any accent these days, not like the bakers they had eight years ago. Those fucking clowns wouldn't know the difference between Frances McDormand's favorite brownie (hallucinogenic) and William H. Macy's favorite donut (muffin). Thanks mom, you're the best! One of these years I'll remember your birthday, I swear!

*or until probably two years from now when I will then put in a request for desserts featuring only Anton Cigurgh or Walter Sobchak.

Nonsenseicalizationismer

There are two things I want to be when I grow up, and they are both HAROLD REYNOLDS!  This guy is freaking gold, and not just because he is still the only announcer who feels the need to carry his glove in the announcers booth...or because he got fired from ESPN for sexual harassment days after getting back from the Little League World Series.  Well...actually it was just those two things but now that he has a blog (and Blog and Main follows blogs), it's like I get to have breakfast with the man who invented assholes!

In his latest blogtacular rant, Harold (or H-Dawg as Kruky use to call him) goes on and on about how numbers don't make sense.  Meanwhile, back at his blog, his words don't make sense.  And what makes this post just about better than any other post in blog history, is that the reader comments below his rant are all epic.  I enjoyed this too much not to share - so Happy fucking Father's Day!

Now Batting: Irony

The man I had a sneaky boyhood crush on was sneaky having crushes on little boys and girls.

FORT WORTH, Texas (AP) -- Former major league outfielder Mel Hall was found guilty Tuesday of sexually assaulting a 12-year-old girl he coached on an elite basketball team a decade ago.

fascism...

I was in Montreal this weekend, mostly trying to either enlighten my senses or just drip away at the cosmic insanity. Wait, no, sorry about that, there's too many hippies in that town and clearly they got to me and my brain. Anyway, while walking down the street there was a man handing out flyers and saying...

"Did you notice when Obama met the Queen he grew a Hitler moustache?"

Umm.... what Queen? After hearing this I asked him for one of the flyers he was handing out cause I knew it would be good. It stated that Obama has instituted Hitler's "health plan" which is weird because I thought Hitler's "health plan" was to exterminate the Jews. Anyway, I read this flyer, re-read it, re-read it again and then came to the conclusion that it made absolutely no correlation between the Hitler and Obama other than saying "Hitler" and "Obama".

I also remembered that I was in Canada where they cannot vote in American elections. If this crazy flyers guy really thought Americans pay attention to what Canadians have to say he really must be insane. Just look at what Phoenix did to the Winnipeg Jets or how barely anyone here knows about the Trailer Park Boys.

Blog and Main takes pride in breaking new stories as much as we like making fun of people. I am here to report first that there are some dangerously close relationships between Prime Minister Stephen Harper and former dictator Benito Mussolini. Let's face it, if you are American and reading this right now you had NO idea what Stephen Harper looked like until right now. I mean, I had no idea he was a tiny kitten, did you? Didn't think so. And you'd never be able to pick El Duce out of a line up if he wasn't wearing one of his signature hats. So the similarity here I am reporting on is "obscurity" and that is a much better argument than that nutball was trying to make. Proof that people read the internet more than print.

WNBAint going to be the same.

Has there ever been a more appropriate headline than 'Laimbeer leaves Shock'?

After massive changes to the roster, Laimbeer predicted before the 2003 season that the Shock would be league champions, and his prediction would unbelievably come true. The Shock would tear up the East in the regualar season, posting a 25-9 record and winning the #1 seed by 7 games. In the playoffs, the Shock would defeat the Cleveland Rockers 2-1 for their first playoff series win in franchise history. In the Conference Finals, the Shock swept the Connecticut Sun 2-0 to reach the WNBA Finals. 

Despite the achievements, the Shock were viewed as huge underdogs to the two time defending champion Los Angeles Sparks, who were looking for a three-peat. The Shock would emerge victorious in the series, winning a thrilling Game Three 83-78. That game would draw the largest crowd ever in WNBA history (22,076 came to watch). Detroit became the first team in WNBA history to make it from last place one season to world champions the very next season.

25-9?

22,076?

And now, that is all over.   I just can't believe it.  Everytime a brutish cracker retires from dike sports a little part of me dies.

UK not OK

Anyone who knows me knows I love soccer.  And those that really know me, know I don't really like soccer but I pretend I do to appeal to international blog audiences.  But one thing has really started to put a bow in me britches, and that is the name UNITED KINGDOM.

How cocky is that term - Kingdom?  Kingdom implies supreme awesomeness and utter dominance.  But the UK has neither.  Thanks for The Beatles and ship-building expertise, but you are a 3rd rate state now and need to change your name accordingly.

I call this post: The Dallas Cowboys are fucking retarded

I usually don't like to sleep outside.  It's bad for my skin.  But I had to make an exception last night because NEW COWBOYS STADIUM MERCHANDISE went on sale this morning and I had to be first in line.

You see here, this shirt says OURS IS BIGGER!  Do you get it?  They are talking about the stadium but they are really talking about the collective penis of Texas.  Or maybe of Cowboys fans.  Or I'm not really sure.  Stop me if you've heard this, but anytime anything is remotely bigger than average, and you are in Texas, or it relates to Texas, well then you are forced to learn: "EVERYTHING IS BIGGER IN TEXAS".  Get it?

This is fucking priceless.  I got 18 of them.  All XXXL because I thought it would be twice as funny if the shirts were big...cause everything is bigger than Texas.

Does it get better than local humor?  What the fuck does Idaho do day in and day out?  I know there are some good Michigan jokes but I heard that state was going into Chapter 11 and giving their property back to the indians.

weekends...

I love weekends. I don't have a girlfriend so these weekend situation things are the best things I currently have going. Today has been spent watching movies in bed. This is most likely a big factor as to why I do not have a girlfriend. It's a lot like that book Catch-22 but with less nudity*.  Currently showing is the 1977 horror movie The Sentinel featuring (among many others) Jeff Goldblum, Jerry Orbach, Christopher Walken, the mom from the National Lampoon's Vacation series, old man Burgess Meredith and even older man Bill Hickey. It's incredible. In one scene Burgess Meredith decides to throw a birthday party for his cat Jezebel. I know that sounds unbelievable so I took a screen shot.

You can also see that I have googled "bruce lee shoes" which is another example about how awesome weekends can be. Also I am drinking hilarious vodka. You are probably wondering how vodka can be hilarious, well just hold on to your pants there skip because you are in for another treat...

So thanks are in order to Iceland, whomever invented Saturdays and Jerry Orbach who (according to a sign I saw in the subway one time) donated his eyeballs to someone after he died. 

*I have never read this. Fuck you Joseph Heller!**

** This was originally going to say "Fuck you Aldous Huxley!" but I then decided to do some joke research.

slang...

Did you know that urbandictionary.com has morals? I didn't either until I tried posting a definition on there last night. Here's my first draft....

pickle martini

when one successfully receives a blowjob after sneaking his penis in another, unsuspecting person's drink.

"I'm just going to choke one more down, and then we're outta here. Wait a second... that's not a straw!" - pickle martini victim

Rejected. Within 10 minutes of sending it in. Apparently they don't like "sexual violence". It was never meant to be violent, just hilarious. I added a few things, subtracted the word "victim", sent it back in, waited like an hour and then got the end result I sort of wanted. I had to use a clever alias but you can tell it's a post from me because one of the tags is "scooters". Check it out here. Maybe give it a shot some night when you are bored and drinking martinis made with pickle juice instead of olives.  

names...

Back in the day you were literally defined by your job. Whatever you did as a career would be your last name. If you were a blacksmith your last name would be 'Smith'. If you were a gay blacksmith your last name would be 'Smythe'. The family that lived across the street from me growing up was named Lynch and that really seems more like a hobby to me. 

Bucket of weekend random thoughts...

• What is the point in hiring really old "security" guards.  Wal-mart does it.  Strip malls do it.  The indian casino does it.  I'm a fairly non-violent type but when I see them with their fancy security badges I just want to rumble.  And by rumble, I mean I want to tickle them.
• Is there anything better about the NBA playoffs than hearing Magic Johnson call them the "Orlando Magics"?  Watch Ernie Johnson...he looks like he points to the teleprompter each time as if to show him there is no "s".  Thanks Magics Johnson.
• I finally had a chance to catch Dirty Dancing this weekend (thanks ABC Family!).  I know, it's been out a while, but somehow it has eluded my viewership.  There are few flicks like that.  I've never seen E.T., or Wayne's World...or any of the Star Trek or Star Wars flicks.  But Dirty Dancing was a bit different.  I thought it was the magical sexual bridge between the bra-burning sixities and the whory slut-filled nineties.  But after catching a good majority of the flick this weekend, I'm sorry I ruined the mystery of the "classic".  In 1987 I wasn't old enough to catch an erection, but after watching this flick I'm not sure I ever want to again.  I've had more erotic two-steps waiting in line for the bathroom than anything Swayze did.
  
• Is there anything sadder than watching a stud baseball starting prospect get assigned to the bullpen, dominate for a few years, and then peter out almost over night?  I watched it with Keith Foulke and now it appears Jon Papelbons turn.  He has all the intimidation of a hebrew MMA fighter.  It's like you finally make it as a personal assistance and your first gig is being assigned to the asian kid on American Idol.  Enjoy the lights while you have them!  R.I.P. Paps.
• My favorite thing about the economy is the crying.
• Happy Memorial Day everyone!  wait...I thought this was a day of reflection and remembrance?  Well, as Jon once told Odie "sometimes the best way to remember someone is to get drunk on the lake".

aspirations...

Aspirations can be strange, holy and pleasant things. When you and the last girl you dated who is now a lesbian/partial lesbian are in her place and climbing on the glass roof to get to the helicopter that's parked next to her glass house it can become epic. Don't let her fall into the moat and it doesn't matter that the helicopter blades will hit the glass when you start it up, you'll still somehow be able to take off safely. Or when you are in some monastery in Quebec talking to Denis Leary about how the Hartford Whalers have reformed, don't worry,  he knows their theme song (Brass Bonanza) you don't have to fret when your phone is stuck in your pocket and you can't play it for him. Or when your friend Caleb is taking pictures of the inside of Gold Medal Olympian Shaun White's small house in Las Vegas where you think you are going to be moving to shortly. Not his house, Las Vegas. They have a nice lake there with boats and other assorted ships. And Caleb is going by Clay Ferfenstein. Actually, I think I just got "aspiration" and "dream" mixed up again. If I had a nickel for every time that's happened I'd still be $4000 in debt (roughly). These are a few of the many reasons why I never became a successful meter maid.

drinking...

If you go to a bar that serves Orval Trappist Ale and also has their beer menu on a chalkboard, this can lead to one interesting evening. Specifically when the owner of the bar hands you a piece of chalk and tells you to put the letters back on the chalkboard you took off because "this is a family establishment". 

Since when is a bar a family establishment?! That, and oral rape is impossible. I think. 

Triangle Offensive

I use to call Patrick Ewing "The Black Orangutan" and people thought it was all "racist" and controverisal. Now Kobe Bryant, he of underage white girl rape fame, flings around his "Black Mamba" persona and I'm just suppose to gobble it all up?

I swear if Vitamin Water backed McCain this country would be in different hands today. B-relaxed and Multi-V have so much street cred that they can get away with just about anything.

Sugarless Jesus

If there are two things I hate in this world, they are both bad breath.  The amount of things that go in my mouth that don't smell good is almost nauseating to think about.  [insert homo-erotic joke here]. 

Did you ever wonder why ALTOIDS are "curiously strong"?  It's because they are made by the Willy Wonka of Hell...the nefarious necco wafer himself...freaking Beelzebub.  Fun fact:  Altoids is actually hebrew for "fork-tongued oral scent demon".  (fucking heebs have a word for everything!)

I been working hard on getting good seats in the afterlife, so imagine my utter glee when I found out Testamints is now on the market to play yin to the Altoids evil yang.  Each piece of gum is wrapped in a verse of scripture!  Check them out at www.testamints.net.  I actually found a wrapper for these at the casino.  (wha?)

I bet Mary Magdalene had a pocket full of these babys.  Freakin slut.

Sandwich, Drink, and a Bag of Chippewas

So I'm at this Indian Reservation Casino in Oklahoma, and I'm at the most ethnic eatery I can find.  I like to soak in the local flavor.

I'm at this place called "Subway".  The Indian fellow behind the counter (Indian like native american, not Indian like tech support) asks the lady in front of me "Cheese?"  as in what, if any, cheese would you like on your sandwich.  And she says "Extra White American".  And I'm the only one that laughs.  Really...the only one...for several minutes.  No wonder you lost your land.

Report: CNN blows

Look, I'm all for CNN trying to make a few dollars. Lord knows the only thing older than Ted Turner is Jane Fonda's who-ha. But come on! Ripping off the Blog and Main bandwagon-to-fame so blatantly? "Money" and Main? What's next, an Angry Anderson Cooper character?

lost...

If you are like most people than you probably watch the television program Lost. I don't. I'm sure it's a great show and all, I just never started watching it. My understanding that if you watch that show you pretty much need to watch every second of it to sort of understand what *might* be going on and with the amount of porn I watch, well, where does the time go? I've seen three random episodes and thought they were pretty funny because I find most random junk I don't understand humorous. Anyway, a few weeks ago while visiting my friend Foolish Muslim in Montreal, he got a text about Lost from our other friend whom I shall be calling Applejack. I then decided it would be a good idea to start texting people about Lost while Lost was airing just to see what happens. Here is the conversation between Applejack (watching Lost) and myself (not watching Lost) in colors that don't appear on my phone. 

9:12pm

Me - Foolish Muslim tells me you like talking about Lost...

Applejack - When i saw the little girl i didn't even flinch to say "its kate!"

Me - Whoooaaaa! (I have absolutely no idea who Kate is but I'll guess she's either a character on the show or one of Applejack's shorter imaginary friends)

Applejack - What's in the box! This is lost not pulp fiction!

Me - What do they think this is, Se7en?!

Applejack - Haha high fives to us!

Me - Actually, to be completely honest... I've only watched like 3 episodes ever. Do I still get a high five?

Applejack - Haha how do you have any idea whats happening, thats awesome! Ill grant the high five

Me - I don't have any idea!! I'm not even watching right now! I just like crazy texting!!!!! Wooooooooooo.

Me - Ok, I'll stop

Applejack - Ahaha, you're really not watching! Amazing you hit gold on that seven comment, excellently timed!

Me - I rule.... apparently

Applejack - I think thats a safe bet

By the way, I'm not going to tell Applejack (or anyone else for that matter) why I decided to call her Applejack until the series finale of Lost. Hello biggest disappointment(s?) of 2010!

Life in the ass lane

You may get the impression from me that being a degenerate is all fun and games. And you'd be right. It is true that being a degenerate has countless advantages. For example, when expectations are very low, you almost never disappoint anyone. When something assinine happens to me no one is shocked. I rarely have to explain things away. I frequently get second, third and fourth tries with things because no one expected me to get it right at first.

But with great irresponsibility comes great embarassment at times. I don't always take things seriously. Like one time the bank asked if I would stop writing "dizzalahs" on the amount line. I ignored the request until a friend had one of my checks rejected.

Well last night was one of those times where I wish I took some things more seriously. I went straight from work to see some playoff basketball action. It's hard for me to watch sports without having money on it...I mean that's why they play the games. But I had forgot to log any bets before leaving work and my cell phone cant bring up my sportsbook page. So I call a friend who unfortunately was not at her house but her mothers house. I already had a drink or two so I asked her to put me on the phone with her mother who was at the computer. I gave her the sportsbook web address and my username, and then slowly spelled out my password: F-U-C-K-A-M-O-N-K-E-Y.

Not my best moment. But Nuggets plus 2.5 with a missed Mavericks free throw at the end to cover more than made up for any potential embarassment. I heart gambling.

Size matters

So I have a maid take care of the house.  You know...cause I won't.  So long story short, this [insert central america country here] gal attempts to clean the house but completes the masterful job by drenching the marble shower in Lime Away.

Here's a good rule of thumb...when using a neon green bottle, read the label.  But anyway...

So after a long struggle with the maid service they send a "shower expert" to the house to asses the damage.  He returns a few days later with a small bottle of "special solution" which he predicts will restore the original luster to the shower.

Him:  "You don't want to waste this stuff, it's $100 a quart!"

Me (feigning interest): Really?

Him:  "You bet...you wouldn't believe what a gallon costs!"

Me:  "$400?"

Him:  "I wish...try $600!" 

El Reflectionay del la Cinco de Mayo

Blog and Main would be remiss if we did not take a moment to commemorate the Mexican army's unlikely victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla some 147 years ago today.   And with that, here are my thoughts:

Seriously?  No taquitos at 7-11?  Did you all take the day off to salvage the Bud Lime brand, or were all the taquitos already taken for the various Datsun and FIFA sponsored parking lot swap meet festivals today?  Seriously?  Fucking taco jockeys.

memories...

I just wanted to add to Isabella's post from yesterday. It reminded me of the worst pick up line anyone has ever used on me. I was making a phone call while walking down the street. Meanwhile, this girl comes out of nowhere and grabs both my arms and shakes them while saying "They call me 'Milk' because I do a body good" and then walked away. Call me crazy, but I'm willing to bet more people got more than just vitamins* while enjoying that "milk"**. 

The best pick up line anyone's ever used on me was "I want to fuck you!". I know what you are thinking and no, I didn't take him up on that offer. 

*STD's

**slut

Milk Does the Body Good

So I'm taking these continuing education courses in photography at the local college. (I do it all for you the readers...I want you to get the best in blog photog). Well last night there was this new girl in class...apparently a transfer from the day class. The only reason I noticed her was because she had a question about how to get to the field trip on Saturday.


"Where is Interstate 30?", she asked
"You mean that 8 lane major highway about a mile north of here?", replied the prof.
"Well I don't live around here," she confidently retorted.


Hmmmm. Well...yes you do live around here. Because you are in class here, and people don't drive too too far for a photography night course. And you are in Texas. And if you are in Texas you are either from that town in Texas, or from another part of the country and you find learning the two or three major roads in your new city useful.


It was a brief chuckle. Almost like you were not sure if she was serious or not so you didn't know how hard to laugh. Like if I were drinking milk, it would have come out of my nose, but like a spray...more like a trickle.


So an hour or so later we pass in our homework on flash drives. It's a photography course...so we basically just look at everyone else's work. One by one the drives are inserted into the pc and then displayed on the overhead. The professor gets about half way through and then more hilarity ensues.


"Whose drive is this? Which one is your homework?", the clearly confused prof asks.
"It's one of the 'A1's", my new favorite student (from above) replies.


The screen is littered with folders from her flash drive. EVERY folder is named "A1something". Every folder. Probably 25 on the screen (and clearly more below if you scrolled) were called A1something.


"Try A1PHOTO", she yells, almost mocking him for not trying it.


The folder contains 3 files:

• broken_childhood_hate.ppt
• broken_dreams_hate.ppt
• notanothertime.doc

I'm not making this up. I can't remember how I reacted. I think it was shock. If I were drinking milk it would have started running out of my mouth and down my chin.


Then pure gold.


"Go back one, try A1PhotoClass folder", she corrected herself

"Care to comment on that [what we just saw]", the prof inquired clearly hoping not to get a response.

"Oh, I name all my folders with A1 so the important ones always appear on top", she said proudly as if to lay to rest any possible question you had about her intellect or organizational skills.


I couldn't fill my lungs up with air fast enough to keep up with my laughter. The damn student chair/desk contraption was keeping me in place when I clearly just wanted to fall on the ground laughing. If I were drinking milk it would have been spewed into the air so high that by the time it came down it would have covered the class with cottage cheese.

I have never had so many questions for one person, but she left class too fast. And I fear she will not be back...only because she is in the day class. I don't think the laughter and confusion phased her one bit. I would give all my breast milk for the next ten years away for one hour with her, and one hour with her flash drive.