Haircut 100

I recently escaped a very intense situation .

I was out celebrating a birthday with one of my fellow Class mates and for those of you just tuning in ( I'm still in Anger Rehab )

So were out and lets just call this guy Mitch, now Mitch is in the class because he defended his property against a would be thief Mitch was asleep and a thief broke into his home Mitch is a 6'3 300 pound Professional well former Heavy weight boxer .

This thief broke into his home and sadly for him old right hook Mitch is a light sleeper . So he surprised the thief , there was a struggle, and somewhere as he said he set the thief's balls on fire .

Hence he's in the class .

So were at a bar celebrating his birthday and for all his massiveness Mitch really is a ole softy he loves the 80's and still listens to the music heavily , Thompson Twins , Cutting Crew you got the point . So were drinking and Mitch decides to hit up the jukebox to play what appears to be my old high school dance party all over again .

It starts off with Rebel Yell and Mitch is gone in shot air guitar a blazing and screaming the lyrics .

Yes that was annoying but so what it's his birthday .

Four songs later were into the English Beat and clearly some of the patrons are getting annoyed that the variety of music has not changed then I noticed left side of the bar several fellows making gestures our way and pointing to Mitch and yours truly making ugly looks , pointing and laughing murmuring amongst themselves .

And I knew where this was going.

By the time Eurythmics came on our little band of men made there move it was four of them and they were drunk and from there ranks arose there leader He walked up to us and yelled out some very nasty words , made inquires if Mitch and I were a couple and told us that last night was 80's night so stop hogging the jukebox and let the latest song from Fergie play .

I laughed at him and exchanged a couple unpleasantries right back at him and also let him know that it was Mitch's b-day and he's right we shouldn't hog the machine . ( I needed an excuse to end the dance party )

As he turned around one of his boys yelled out "Hey Drew get you another beer."

Upon hearing his name Mitch snapped I mean you can see everything get red around him and I swear I could hear that beeeep booong you know the fight music from Kill Bill.

" Drew your Fucking name is Drew" Mitch yelled out.

You got a chicks name and your stepping to people , within minutes Mitch was beating him senseless with Joe Jackson's Stepping out in the background, for all there talk his buddies were shocked I told them not to get involved She Sells Sanctuary was up next and the rock gets Mitch even more hyped to fight they took my advice someone yelled out " The cops are coming"!


We high tailed it out of there before the cops showed up in beers in hand on to another bar

Castration and the Dating Girl

With all of the changes that have been happening at the BMC, I took a quick time out to meet with Marlon Maxey, legal representative to Bad Mother Coitus and the Greatest Beer Drinker in St. Paul, to re-evaluate the implications that could occur should we decide to let Ellen the Intern go.

Maxey has one of the finer legal minds in the entire metro area, however with the mantel of Greatest Beer Drinker in St. Paul also comes responsibility; the responsibility to consume mass quantities of beer in order to keep up his reputation- it's a vicious, vicious cycle. Regardless of however his slurred speech came out, it didn't sound positive and thus we decided to promote Ellen.

Elevating Ellen from an intern to Senior Vice President of Advertising may seem like a brash move on our part. This is made more complicated as we have three people that actually read the articles and, there-by, don't have much of a market to promise our would be advertisers.

But Ellen and I sat down to have our chat about where she feels the advertising in the company should go and what she is going to do to take it there. In all honesty my heart wasn't really in it. Ellen's wasn't really either. She has broken with the Communistic party sighting the abdication of power by Fidel Castro. When I told her it was only for a brief time she pushed her index finger against my lips and told me not to say another word.

She's been reading books on castration lately; light reading for the girl that recently completed reading the Communist Manifesto, and selected works by John Locke and David Hume. The castration, she tells me as she catches my eye eking over the cover, is for her boyfriend. She has grown vexed with him as she believes he slept with another woman.

She sites an evening when her boyfriend was taken out to dinner by a mysterious female friend on a trip down to San Diego. When he didn't respond to a Photoshopped picture of the two of them with Comrade Lenin from a worm’s eye angle, she became nervous. The next day he told her that he had fallen asleep. She doesn't have proof that he slept with this other woman and worse, now doesn't know if she wants to know the truth or if she already does know the truth. But she has become obsessed with it.

But one person's mental breakdown is another person’s gain! With Ellen being promoted to Senior Vice President of Advertising the door opens for other would be internees with the BMC! Think of it as the perfect fall job where you don't get paid but receive tons and tons of great experience. I take my coffee black!

An application will be posted on the site by Friday and we'll close the application process on or around Wednesday of next week.

Good luck to all and congrats to Ellen on her promotion. Sorry your boyfriend is cheating on you!

the rescue mission

there are a lot of puddles in my apartment. furry ones with tails. they ooze into dark nooks and spread themselves out on the bathroom tiled floor. it's easy to pick them up - they're rag-doll limp and drip fur with every jostle. it's hard to keep a grip to carry them into the living room. not the clawsteethhissing difficulties usually associated with annoyed cats, but a benign resignation to the oppressive heat that radiates from floor, windows, ceiling and gets trapped close to body by layers of thick fur. these are hot cats. hot DUMB cats.

you see, i'm picking up pedro because he shouldnt be sitting in the sun in on the 100 degree porch. he should be sitting on the couch in the air conditioned living room, getting pet and pampered (even annoying rebels need a little love). you may not have realized this, but pedro has 2 counterparts. They get along rather well. think, the 3 Amigos in fur, not hats. anyways, bailey (aka Chevy Chase) is already in there, sitting on the blue polar fleece blanket, sprawled out and purring. romeo, jealous that i picked up pedro first, is still sitting in the kitchen, sulking. once pedro is in the safe haven, next to b, with a little treat, i go for romeo.

"hi kitty kitty! are you hot? you look hot. lets go to the other room where it's cold!! good boy... good boy!" one must cajole jealous cats. i'm a girl, this is acceptable behavior. I pick the gray puddle up and he collapses in my arms - halfway grateful for attention, halfway resenting the excess body heat. once in the a/c room, he jumps down, swishes his tail and flumps on the ground, exuding "dont touch me". i dont touch him.

the puddles are re-forming into cats again. still dripping fur everywhere, but perking up - playing lightly and enjoying some treats. b and i, ourselves recovering puddles, searching through mindless monday tv for anything at all.

"i'm hungry. lets eat"
"ok, what do you want?"
"leftovers"
"you get them"
"no. you get them"
"rock, paper, scissors?"
"too much effort"
"eff you"
"eff you"
...
"i'm still hungry"
"i'm getting the pizza"
"grab the ice cream too"
"eff you"
"eff you"*

*slightly dramatized for heat intensive purposes (but not by much)

i get up, and brace myself for what lays behind the blanket tacked onto the door frame. WHOOSH. note the lack of exclamation point. it's like getting hit in the face with a sizzling frying pan, minus the bonus bacon. the second i open the fridge i hear "meow... meow... meow?" and 3 newly revitalized kitties have rushed to my "assistance".

"its useless to beg. go away." is all i can muster. i take food into safe haven.

20 minutes later i notice - no cats. dammit. i look out into the abyss. sulking, sloppy, furry puddles again. rescue mission #2 commences...

Things Have Changed

The new collective here at BMC Headquarters got together and decided we should be organized. Not organized in that "hey I just got back from Office Depot with some binders" sort of way. We're not good with binding. But we thought you, the people, deserved to know what the BMC had in store for you on a given day.

Some day, after much work and dedication, maybe Tuesdays with Dr. G will be worth setting aside 15 minutes for. And hell, if nothing else we need to have something to replace "tuesdays with morrie" in the consciousness of the masses. That book is embarrassingly retarded. Particularly so because the author is known universally as a liar, douchebag, and pretty much the opposite of everything he pretends to be about in the book. But i digress.

So, henceforth, you'll get me on mondays. Dr. G on tuesdays, Mule on wednesdays and Balldee on thursdays. Fridays will be a sort of linkorama or maybe a random dissertation from Remo. You never know when the adventure will begin with him. But when it does it's worth all the waiting.

Some other changes include the long overdue plan to actually edit some of the stuff we write. For one thing we'll finally get an accepted spelling for Balldee, Baldee, BallsDeep or whatever he wants to call himself. I consider the editing of one of BaldNuts's posts to be sort of the Mt. Everest of Editing. Enjoy. And frankly if one of our readers doesn't come up with a drinking game for every comma that is obviously inserted into a Balldee column then I'll be disappointed in all of you.

MIAMI VICE ( Story by Balddee sub Plot and additional action by Mule )

I entered the theater full of anticipation .

I was dressed for the adventure my soft pink shirt which was tucked so securely in my clean white pants that were so well pressed out that the Cress in the pants was sharp enough to cut an apple.

A cool gray suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up and the stylish white shoes with no socks.

I strutted into the theater oblivious of the gawkers and nay Sayers who glanced at me with wonderment.

I was here for the Premier of Miami Vice and I was a part of the action .

For this one day at this theater I was Crockett and I was backed up by my brothers in Arms Mule as Swytex and Harmon as Zeto .

Boldly we walked around the lobby as if we were a part of the action as though we were the stars of the show .

Little did Baldee know, but he was about to die. The Cubans had paid me handsomely for it and so I, mule, posing as Swytex, was going to pull the trigger.
The money had already been wired to my account.
The Cubans weren't afraid of me not doing it, they would carve me up if I didn't.

I had no doubt that I probably wouldn't escape the aftermath as people rushed to Balddee's help and knew that I had to make the shot count.
It was going to be a well placed shot, right in the back of his big skull.
The Big Fat Kill.

Even his swagger offends me now, how he shakes hands and pretends like everybody loves him.
Harmon sits en raptured with him too.

If I'm capable of pulling the trigger twice let the second bullet lodge itself into his brain.


But they came, the bad guys came with there Sub Machine guns singing a song of bloodlust .

I seen it all in slow motion without hesitation I hit the floor my Beretta's blazing there own deadly two part harmony .

For all there Fire power they were really bad shoots THERE WAS A FIRE FIGHT !!!!

I screamed with delight as the bodies fell one after a bloody other .

I tripped over one of the bloody carcasses they weren't Cuban but really Swedes with really really good tans and pretty good wigs .

That's when I knew who the traitor was .

Minutes seemed liked hours and as I emptied my chamber into the last poor soul who crossed me .

My blood glaze searched the now deserted lobby for a Mule who I found cowering behind a well shot up Nacho machine he had melted cheese on his shirt and he was scared .

He left me during a Bullet Battle and by Crom he was going to pay .

He wet himself upon seeing me and began to spill his guts about his jealousy of me because of who I am and what I stand for .

I heard Harmon snickering in the back ground waiting for me to snap mules neck but with one quick turn Mule and I both emptied our last bullet square into Harmon's forehead .


Why ? Why kill Harmon .. When it was Mule who planned the hit .

Simple...

That blood bath was the best present anyone could of given me keeping Mule Alive ensures more of that carnage, Harmon doesnt like the Godfather Movie so one way or another he had it coming , and besides Mule bought the tickets for the Movie .

So I pried a bag of Popcorn from one of the dead Passersby's and we went in to go finally see Miami Vice the movie .

Where We've Been

Mule has been left home alone on Friday and so Friday Funday has been largely abbreviated.

If you see one movie all (next) year, this should be the movie.

For anybody that ever was foolish enough to question the notion of Ninja versus Pirate: I believe this website solves all differences with one swift blow to the head.

This is a pleasant little website for the new home town. It plays like a tour guide but gives heads up of local events and happenings. Not that I ever intend on doing any of them, but it is nice to know what I'm missing out on.

This website is fantastic for anybody that ever wanted to be a ninja or pirate. This term of "Cyber" was new to me and thus far hasn't had the same effect with real life girls.

Have a Good weekend All... and remember, the Hoff Loves you!



He is Knight Rider after all...

Balddee Answers your Questions :Millennium Neanderthal

Agatha

I really had to ponder your question cause I could simply just say yes they exist then be lame and take the easy route with the obvious comment yes Neanderthals live there men blah blah Oprah , blah Men are from Mars Women are from Venus .. all that lame shit .

But because I have the insight to look beyond your Question I was able to break it down to a different subject and Topic yet still keeping the overall tone the same.

Thus as I always do setting a new standard for our society and answering I hope your question in the process .

What Is this new Millennium of Neanderthal ?

Take my hand Agatha and lets take this plunge together .

I think the first thing to do is find comparisons to ordinary people lets see...Lets use

Bush, no he's to easy a target and there is no counter point there. hmm lets use my buddy J as an example sorry man you can yell at me when I get back into town .

J or so that the BMC is not put in to some silly lawsuit we will call himThal is a shinning example of this point .
I think the core issue or the thing that separates a Normal Male to a Thal is manners and I don't mean Goofus and Gallant Manners .

I mean the level of normal male thinking is at it's most primal, most embarrassing, it's at a level where they do bodily functions anywhere, And I Fucking mean anywhere Funerals or dinner table, they will scratch there crotch and smell it anywhere and even though I can rip loud ones with the best of them there is a time and place for those things even the most manly men of men know that .

This is a dangerous kind of Species cause there true identity is hidden until they really start to speak .

And they are smart, to a point, well there smart enough to seek out very Macho men who are exceedingly intelligent for friends because Very Macho men are on the Cusp but know the difference of crossing over into this sad zone of existence Why all this ?

Because the best thing about men is no matter what stage you are in your development Shy , Nerdy , Jock , Metrosexual , Sensitive , your male friends wants you to get laid .

And that is how this new Thal survives

Cause he knows that in this Pack of men he will get to eat ( Pun intended ) and his buddie will see to it in some shape or form .

You could be dating a Thal and not know it because you may think he's really rugged and All women like that in there men at some level but if unchecked he is the Millennium Man at his most crude to the point that even for the most masculine male is like fuck man, pull your shit together .

So lets elaborate J I mean Thal for instance just acts without thinking .

True story : A Tree in his yard was getting to big for his property the branches were everywhere so thal decides to trim the limbs of the tree with a fucking Chainsaw !!!

So our hero goes up the tree and starts trimming the tree with did I mention a chainsaw all is going according to plan in the grand scale of stupidity he gets frustrated with one limb that he cant get to now the best part is that this particular tree limb is close to some power lines BUT HE CUTS IT ANYWAY .

No he didn't get electrocuted but he did knock out all the Power for the several blocks so he had to call and have an emergency repair man come out to fix his fuck up .

The best part is when the repair man showed up Thal had to explain what happened and his part in the whole thing .

That is but an example of the lack of understanding that these particular species of Man have.

Stealing his new neighbors really expensive ladder then blaming on the local teens is but another .

So what are we getting out of this .

Yes They do exist unfortunate unlike Anger Management Groups there is no Neanderthal I want to have some fucking class no really I do want to at least balance my shit out courses .

I hope that helped somewhat and if you

Sometimes A Tangled Mess

Soft acoustic guitar drips into my ear, played in the key of the Thracian; composed in that melody that was beautiful enough to sway the Blackheart. That song that escaped the grasp of Hell and yet caused greater punishment than Tantalus, though no sin had been committed.

In that vein, the Sea of Ireland was fought and for its' honor the romantic in all of us takes swipes at Spanish windmills. Father Time stomps his double kick drum on the left side of our body while our soul dances out melody on our continual fret board.

The choir that finds it fortunate enough to peer through farsighted glasses is forced to only sing that which is in the hymnal before them reads. Nearby, Gnostic Nathaniel nails a solo of his own nature, naming all of us as naysayers, that this is all God's Will.

But the starlight from all those hearts ago screams on in Siren voices, regardless of opinion. Want or disregard binds all of us that have never finished fighting the sea; those of us that have never finished anything. There is hope in this, hope that maybe the peace like a river will be ours. The stardust that has rained down still cakes to our sandals and will never be shook off when we leave this town.

Let Baldde Answer Questions on : Sex, Love , Music , The Middle East, Politics,

I was watching the news the other night and they had an interview with some guy who has probably one of the most powerful Political Blog sites out there .

And this drove me to the brink of rage .

I think it's safe to say that we hear at the BMC have if anything else inspired people to better themselves shit my time here in L.A. alone has changed the lives of hundreds of people

But yet it aint enough

I want to really expand my knowledge or lack there off to the World .

So starting today I want questions from you the general Public on whatever
please either respond to this blog or send in your Questions to :
badmothercoitus@yahoo.com

N-49: Online Policeman

Recently Mule and I ventured out to see what else was going on in the blogosphere. It was fun, Dr. Gonz packed us some samiches in a handkerchief and a couple juice boxes and we were off. We didn't get far before we realized that our samich supply was woefully inadequate. So we looked around at 3 or 4 sites and decided to shut down the expedition. Thankfully, we came across this entertaining little ditty on barbercollege so it wasn't a total waste of a trip.

The post, for those of you not savvy enough to click on the little brownish link, is a video of a sweet combo platter of old school video games. The almost unequaled in lameness Duck Hunt mixed with Ryu from Street Fighter. Ryu fights the ducks. That's the joke. It's moderately entertaining and looks pretty sweet. The funny part happens in the comments section.

mule said...
This is the sort of game that my friend Baldee would really suck at... seriously, it would be awkward.

4:15 PM, July 24, 2006


Harmon said...
i've got a buddy who thinks he's blade (baldee, of course, I was trying to hit him from many angles) and he's the same way. he'd probably spend half the time trying to kick the dog and the other half blaming the controller.

4:21 PM, July 24, 2006


mule said...
i hate it when he blames the controller cos then he tries to do it in real life and then we have to take him to the hospital again.

Talk about leaving yourself open to murder or a heart attack.

4:27 PM, July 24, 2006


N-49 said...
Mule , Harmon
This premeditated idea of making fun of your friends on this site is lame .

You didn't even thank J-HO for posting this funny blog .

Your comments are not needed and not funny all you've shown is that you have no etiquette.

If you have your own blog site then why don't you guys post your insults there .

6:03 PM, July 24, 2006

Pretty fucking fantastic right? We decide to (mildly) knock Baldee and get called on the carpet for nefarious acts on a foreign blog. So I'm taking your advice N-49 because you are obviously brilliant. I particularly enjoy the implied insidiousness of using "premeditated" in your bashing of us. Seriously that's 100% awesome. It wouldn't be bad enough if we just came across the site and decided to mock a friend. But to have planned it out ahead of time? Outrageous! And yeah I'm totally pacing back and forth like a Grisham-esque lawyer trying to work up the jury. Premeditated! I'm amazed the Good Lord didn't smite us during the initial planning stages of our commentary coup. If, that is, we had planned anything. If anything this is clearly a totally half-assed effort by a couple guys bored at work.

N-49 clearly has us nailed on the lack of thankfulness issue. I would now like to thank "J-Ho" for bringing you into our world. I was hoping to get to know more insufferable douchebags via the world of blogs and thanks to your completely fucked up sense of right and wrong, lack of any semblance of humor and lame nickname you have delivered sir.

The comments on blogs are always fascinating to me. We get ripped for nothing at all on our site and no one says anything when Baldee advocates male stripping. So, hot tip kids, if you ever wonder whether you should be commenting (or how to do it correctly) just go to barber college and say something inconsiderate, I'm sure N-49 will come out and sass you but good.

Man Bra

One thing about L.A. is you get very self conscious of your body and that can have a good and bad effect on you in my case .

I stopped smoking which is feat within itself, no Patch people just cold turkey .

And I started to take up running.

And I must admit I am feeling better it works hand in hand with my therapy .

Now before you all think were is he going with all of this .

Well as always it's starts with story

I was sitting in a park, listening to some music and I was actually content no rage just content with all that was around me .

That's when it hit me .

I think there needs to be a Man Bra.

I know it sounds odd and it's not an original idea or is it?

We have all heard of Man Boobs and lets face it we as a nation, are not the fittest .

While I was at the park this was made clear to me it's L.A. so I seen the beautiful people but then time after time I saw guys jogging and just man boobs flopping all over the place and trust me I wanted no part of this!!!!

I would turn away and boom it was there it kind of reminded me of the Scene from the High Anxiety and the Pigeons ( nuff said ) .

Well it was like that, but in the most Horrible Fashion I mean I literally was running back to my Rehab Center and everywhere I turned arghh...

It was like a sick Twilight Zone joke , gone were all the hot young girls jogging or rollerblading, just that all around me .

I grasped for air once I reached the safety of my Rehab Room I locked the door and Wept for a good 30 minutes sitting in the Fetal position .

I am now staying at the Clinic for an additional week .

SATURDAY Morn

What in the world is going on .

I was up early a couple of Saturday's ago and I made the mistake of watching the normal Saturday Morning Lineup.

What could bug me so much that I would have to Blog about it ?

Well if any of you have an attention span you will have noticed that I am aside from complete psycho duh Hello that's the reason that I am in a 3 week anger management course still in L.A .

Is your hero Balddee is one big fucking geek .

So there I am looking at the Saturday Morning lineup and I was disgusted if they didn't have Batman on I think I would of went Ape Shit ( kind of like I am now)

What is it with this new generation of cartoons are you fucking kidding me!.

Enough with the card trading cartoons and shows that exploit animal fighting for profit.

Enough with the Shows based of off Sluts a the mainCharaters ( Brats )

Where are the ThunderCats, Jace and the Wheeled Warriors ,M.A.S.K , Silverhawks , SuperFreinds Well let me rephrase that Justice League is better Thundar , John Blackstar

Those were cartoons that were original and that had some entertainment value .

Oh well

Possession is 9/10ths of the law

why is it that only evil spirits possess people? what's that about? and why, if you believe the exorcist and the exorcism of emily rose, do they always go after young girls? were these movies all written by bitter fellas who found their favorite gal making out with johnny football hero under the stands in middle school or something? hell, most of what is written has to do with how the writer is feeling that day. it just seems odd that teenage girls are so ripe for satanic possession to me. but then i was reading comic books and playing video games when i was in my early teens, maybe i missed out on the whole heartcrushing deal.

but what would happen if i were possessed by, like, a really sweet guy who just helped other people out. made good decisions for me too so when he left my body in the future i'd be better off than before. would it be like in a coma? or would i be aware of it all? i'm just kinda curious.

i can see the benefits to being possessed for a short time by something evil though. just think of it. once someone has seen you as a demon they're pretty much gonna avoid a confrontation with you at all costs and do what you say right? they're not fucking with a guy who can make his eyes turn red when he's pissed off. that's just a theory really but i think it'll hold up. of course you could have the same deal if you were, say, teen wolf. but based on my completely unscientific research of hollywood films it is much more lucrative to be possessed by a demon than to be a teenaged werewolf. although i suppose being 1)white 2)canadian and 3)4 foot 6 and still being a dominant force in high school basketball may tip the scales towards the whole teen wolf thing. i mean, that is pretty fucking improbable. those are skills you just don't get with the whole possession thing. i think i'll cast my vote for teenwolf.

as per usual i have no point but it's monday, which is inherently pointless.

oh and just so we're clear - when it comes to Hotel Harmon the "no vacancy" light for demons is still lit. i don't need any blog-savvy interlopers messing with my mojo.

Teenagers and Money

I was taking a walk around the city and I noticed an on going trend , I was asked for some spare change by a teenager or at least they were in there early 20s .

I have seen these same kids before, there new to the block this is there second day on the strip, I say all this because I usually am not within an earshot of these kids so I honestly never pay them any mind .

Now I am not one to pick on the misfortunate ( that goes against my therapy but Oh who the Fuck am I kidding, yeah I do kind of pick on the misfortunate but in all actualities I pick on anyone and everyone)

Let me rephrase what I'm saying, I have sympathy, I have sympathy ??!!!?

Yes mother fucker I have fucking Sympathy for an elderly person whose down on his luck cause you never know what happened to them so THAT'S RIGHT I AM KIND and the key word is old person here lets clarify .

But Teenagers !!!!

Argh These fucking kids pissed me off anyway back to the story.

So this kid asks me for some change and I told them naturally ............. no(Naturally )

And before they could respond with some comment that would land them a right cross to the chin, I began to tell them why they should stop this crap.

First off this kid is dressed in all that Azreal of the Abyss crap Gear wearing Trent Reznor buttons the Cure and a Marilyn Manson Shirt .

( Hence a really spoiled rich or middle class brat who is full of there own shit, and this self made sacrifice on the streets is there way of Hurting Mommy and Daddy back in the Valley)

So my first question to this person is why are you begging for money,

There response is they "don't believe in a job" and " that there a Human being with a free sprit " blah blah fucking Blah now pay attention class, this kid says because he don't believe in a job .

"NOT ... My old man lost his job and we lost all our shit sad story .. "
( Which again wouldn't work for me because this kid is can work .)

No. they said " I don't want to work because I am full of shit now give me some of your hard earned money ."

Then they go into this rant about there " rebels Like Marylin M " again more senseless bullshit .

Usually I would of already bashed this kids head in yelling at them that " there are kids your age crossing the fucking desert to come here to work and you don't want to you ungrateful spoiled little shit "" .

But I didn't ..

Instead I felt obligated to inform them that there whole philosophy is based on nothing.

Because you truly cant be against the establishment and leach money off the working Man/Woman the working man, in ethics is who all your efforts of fighting the system are supposed to benefit.

So what you think cause you have a Marlyn Manson shirt that means your a rebel .

Manson makes a living selling his merchandise you idiot and the Key word you useless shit is he makes a LIVING he pays taxes . ( oh what a rebel)

If you really wanna stick it to the man why don't you, rob a bank or something go to prison.

But before you go get a tattoo on your back , so your cell mate has something to read while he's ramming, start a Cult this is LA this town's always up for that kind of shit .

But please take your over Privileged spoiled well to do ass out of here call mom on your Razor and have Pops pick you up in the BMW and leave these streets to the poor boozed up Crack infested BUMS , and the real misfortunate Homeless people ( and yes there is a difference between the 2 ) that at times over run the streets of L.A. and probably wherever you live .

I walked by there a couple days ago and I didn't see them .

Bathroom Etiquette

There was some savage pissing in the middle urinal.

This goes against every imaginable guy code. This is on the lines of sleeping with your buddy's ex-girlfriend, sister or dog. More future thinking generations will, no doubt, have these sorry individuals casterated on Fox News.

Not that this is the worst offense. Worse than this, of course, is when you're peeing at the far side urinal (following standard protocol and procedure) and some jones comes in and decides to go in the middle urinal. Worse than that is if said sorry individual decides to attempt witty banter or banter of any degree.

As of late I've been paying more and more attention to this as I've been increasing the amount of water that I've been drinking. I'm told it's good for me but seriously, peeing every hour makes me feel like a ten year old girl. Then again, it does get me away from the desk and that… after all… is pretty much the whole battle with this creature named work.

My favorite move is proving you’re peeing. With so many men suffering from stage fright these days there has been a ridiculous amount of letting everybody else knowing you're peeing. For instance, you're in the bathroom, far urinal or at least one not in the middle or nearest the sink… you’re having a glorious time taking snipes at a little fleck of dirt that has found its’ way into the urinal. There is nobody in there so you're following protocol.

Then, in a similar fashion, the next guy enters the bathroom and he too following protocol jumps into the stall or into another urinal not directly next to you.

Now you, in order to prove that you don't have stage fright, from someone opening the door, focus your pee into the water as loud as you can so that they know you don't have stage fright. While the other jones makes spitting noises while trying to get the great pee engine going and thus proving he doesn't have stage fright.

And so the wicked dance continues.

Official Song While Peeing: Float On by Modest Mouse

I'm saving Lives

So I was in my group Last week.
( And for those of you who did not know I am in Anger Rehab )

Were all going around the circle of patience giving introductions
( "hi I'm ken and I get mad" , "Hi My name is Brenda and I set my Husbands Scrotum on Fire ")

That got your attention didn't it.

We had several new people in the class and one of them lets call him Brad .

Starts off hi My name is Brad ..

First off Brad is WAYYYYY TO fucking happy to be here .

And secondly he proudly Mentions that he's from Utah ..

Utah are you fucking kidding me .

Is it cool to even say that your from Utah I mean to admit that in Public ?

Anyway so Brad keeps going with his really chipper ass about how he's really relived to be here and I lost it .

I ask him "Hey Guy fucking Smiley why exactly are you fucking here "

Turns out that Brad was sent here because in his Mormon Parish little Brad drinks way to much Coffee and then he becomes violent .

A violent Mormon is there such a thing ?

So I asked him what did you do Wild Bill .

He goes into this whole ordeal about how he goes on line and orders tons of Folgers Crystals snorts it, and drives thru the town swearing at the locals Yelling out
" I wont have 2 wives !! ya hear me Jebadiah I wont have two wives !!

After hearing his story the group therapist kicked him out of the class and prescribed him some Prozac.

I gave him 100 bucks told him to get a lady of the evening and forget about Utah.

Oddly enough Brad came back to pay me of all people a visit, yesterday he gave me $200 bucks and told me thank you for the idea of the lady of the evening , he told me he had an epiphany in mid thrust that the real reason he wanted to leave his town is that he wanted to be an adult star .

I can respectfully say our man Brad landed a job in the Valley doing Porn what kind it don't matter I saved a young man from destroying Utah because he wanted to be a Horn dog .

Sorry Charlie indeed

Leave it to the Russian Mob to exploit the most secret and personal fetishes out there

Fish masturbation .

That's right I didn't stutter .

What it is what it sounds like and it's big business in underground fish markets all over Europe and some here in The U.S

Fish Brothels are popping up everywhere and the Russian Mob is capitalizing .

What they do is you pick a fish with the Proper Mouth requirements that can accommodate your size.

They file down the teeth for the not so adventureous as so it wont graze the Skin unless you like that kind of thing .

Of course you have the guy whose ego is out of control so he would want a tiger Shark but you get the point .

So Like I was saying they wait until the guys is in full Fish jerk then they bust in take Pictures of the poor horny soul and extort millions depending on who that person is .

Then if you choose not to pay they take the Jizz filled Flounder and feed it to that persons family .

And of course they would post your Picture on the internet if you choose not to pay.

Aquaman SuperHero or Terrorist

Because I put the Special in Special Interest group.

Mule and I have decided to take on the ancient debate of :

Is Aquaman the most Dangerous Super Hero

We live in perilous times the threat of Global Warming threatens the very fabric of our existence and who would benefit Aquaman..

It's no secret that he is a far cry from the land loving hero from the late 70 early 80s Super friends episodes no friends he is far worse .

His hatred for the surface dwellers runs deep and part of that is our fault We are all aware that Aquaman has telepathic Powers with the beast of the sea and we are all aware that he really is the mastermind behind North Korea's constant attempt at Nuclear weapons .

There is documented proof of a long bearded blond figure standing ominously behind Kim ill

Big Trouble in Little Canada

Scene I
Car
Characters: Mule & Remo

Mule [staring out the window]: Do you think Brad Pitt would come to our next video game party if he brought either of his hot wives and knew that we were going to stare at her (them) thus enabling him to win?

Remo [concentrating on driving]: No, no &… no. Orlando Blume might though.

Mule: Is Keira Knightly his wife?

Remo: No. Not in real life.

Mule: Do you think his wife in real life is hot?

Remo: No, probably not. He probably married her before he got famous and was unemployed. Unemployed people don't land babes.

Mule [disappointed]: Do you think that he could bring Keira Knightly? Maybe they're friends.

Remo: No.
-

Scene II
Upon the completion of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
Characters: Mule & Remo

Mule: Do you think we could take Chow Yun-Fat in a fight if we would've dedicated our lives to the study of martial arts?

Remo: Are we fighting him at the same time or one on one? If one on one, which one of us would fight him first and which one of us would fight him second? Would they be on the same day? Right after each other? Would he have a break, a geisha?

Mule: I don't know?

Remo: No.

Mule: What do you mean?

Remo: No. We could not take him in a fight. Ever.

Mule [after a pause]: Do you think we could beat him in video games?

Remo: No.

The Times to Show Mercy

My therapists said I need to come to grips with my anger in order to heal .

I told him to Fuck off with that Pussy ass crap and he had me sent to non violent rehab facility nuzzled in our little town of Los Angeles

What they do is they put you in the happy jacket , a very thick padded room and play classical music for 4 hours a day .

Then you get to go outside for 2 hours a day under heavy sedation or extreme supervision .

My outside Privileges ended after my third attempt of making a run for it .

Local Law enforcement and the simple townsfolk frown when they see a man running down there block in a Straight Jacket hell I made it to Hollywood and Vine and I couldn't Score a hooker they were all scared cause I was breathing all heavy and I had a Straight Jacket partially on . ...
Anyway the real reason for my email is to share a little list I have started the purpose of the list is to remind myself to break old habits, and try more peaceful ones hence the Title .

The Times to show Mercy .

Don't push Blind People out of your way just so you can beat them to the Bus.

Don't Push the Handicapped out of your way just so you can beat them to the bus and then tell the driver there not coming .

Just don't push people in general not even the elderly( ha ha ha they bruise so easily though omg !!)

Letting Mule or Harmon live another day .

Sharing a 12 pack is good buying beer fo minors then beating them up to take it back is just silly .

Sharing anything with anybody at any given time is good .

A little Child has the right to stick there tongue out at me .I don't however have the right to throw broken glass at them .

Urinating on people Because they disagree with me is Wrong ? ? Yes it's Wrong !

You should tip the Stripper after the dance, hell you should just pay them, for the dance in the first place .

I will keep on adding to my list .

su-perb.

$3.41 - the price of a gallon of "select" milk at rainbow foods this time last year? a grande skim mocha at caribou? a hot dog and a soda from a street vendor? or, is it the price for a gallon of gas at the bp on armitage and ashland in chicago? if you said the latter, damn, you're either from chicago or a pretty good pessimist (in this case though, you'd be upgraded to "realist").

in an attempt to damn the man (and save the empire), i mapped out a route for public transporting myself to work. it involved quite the intricate beehive of walking, el train, metra train and bike. it also amounted to a one-way trip of 60 minutes and a total of aprox. $9/day (monthly train passes would bring it down slightly, but not much).

by car, my route is less than 30 miles. my car gets 28 - 30 mpg. this means, that on a hot, traffiky day, at $3/gallon i will spend a total of $6. with price hikes, we go to $6.82. 85% of the time, my commute lasts between 40 and 60 min. 2% of the time, i'm at 30 min, and 12% i'm at 1.5+ hours.

hissing and spitting (a la pedro), i have resolved myself to the blue vehicle that has been my mobile home since 1997, and have been praying ever since for the little car angels to help us along and be blessed with another year's worth of travels.

my question: who is the man? i would really like to damn him, but i cant seem to find a way to do it.

Short Cuts

got the worst haircut of my life on Sunday. since then people have either assumed that the draft has been reinstated and i'm off to boot camp where i can lose a little weight. "what do you have here? an 8 week program? that's perfect for me. i'm gonna be a lean, mean, fighting machine." or they assume that i've taken my love for fight club to dangerous new levels and i'm just waiting for tyler durden to smack the back of my head and tell me i'm a space monkey ready to be shot into space.

lyndsey from st. paul you may not want to read from here on out.

looking to kill time i popped into the ol' great clips on snelling and grand for a quick cut. after this atrocity i'm thinking of petitioning them to change their name to Poor to Very Poor Clips. i'm still spitballing ideas though. so lyndsey sits me down in her chair and starts chatting and cutting and chatting some more. about 30 minutes in i realize that at this pace i'll have my hair cut by august 12th. i'm conflicted because this will save me another haircut in august but - y'know - i'd like to do some other shit in the next month so maybe we should pick it up a bit.

35th minute - i resolve to give yes/no answers to her incessant questions in an effort to stop distracting her. lyndsey, undeterred, launches into a diatribe about the founder of juut salon who lives in burnsville. the conversation king has died, long live the monologue king.

42nd minute - i contemplate if one car garages are inherently sexist and if so, who are they sexizing? meanwhile lyndsey knicks my noggin with the razor again.

53rd minute - i realize "knicks my noggin" sounds vaguely like a slang term for something sexual, which regrettably it is not. lyndsey takes 35 excruciating seconds to snip an eighth of an inch off my forehead.

59th minute - i try not to scream. seriously. it's all i can do to not smack her hand and shave my head myself. my haircuts usually take about 15-20 minutes by the way.

67th minute - i make a call for the bullpen. as politely as possible i let lyndsey know that i need to go and that someone else needs to finish up. she takes it in stride. she's a sweet girl and i hate doing it to her but for the love of fuck i need to not look like some boseephus off the bus from mobile, alabammy even less.

79th minute - new girl wraps up the reclamation project. on the plus side i no longer have a gigantic hair divot on the top of my head. on the negative side my gourd looks like a dark brown tennis ball. a really fucking big one.

84th minute - lyndsey offers me a line of shampoos to combat my dry scalp problems. i think to myself that my scalp isn't that dry and realize she was probably just shaving off healthy skin. i pay and leave.

86th minute - i have a good cry in the car.

okay i didn't have a good cry or even a bad one. but it was fucking justified.

that evening - in a sign of solidarity my goatee demands to be shaved crazy short. the goat knows how to keep us all looking good and does his part. i comply.

What Price Freedom?

ROSEVILLE, MN- Craig Doreson, 27, fails to see the freedom in Freedom week. "It's not like anybody stops harping on me just because it's a fucking holiday. But this is Freedom day and it's like they don't even know what it means. I mean it's not like it's Christmas and everybody should be getting me something or something, just fucking gimme a break."

Most notably Doreson is quick to site his dictorial girlfriend of two years. "[She] always tells me what to do. You know, she always wants to go someplace classy, like Subway. But what sort of country is this if a man can't tell his woman let's go for roast beef sandwiches at Arby's?"

And his freedom is further compromised by his parents.

"All day Mom is fucking harping on me: Get a job, stop playing video games, clean the bathrooms, at least turn the porn off while I'm in the room."

Doreson, an area man, has been pursuing an emancipation law suit against his parents for the past seven years. "It makes it a little awkward at the dinner table but, hey man, you gotta stick up for your rights. That's what this fucking holiday is all about."

Thus far, Doreson has hit road blocks with the court system. The legal precedent that has been enacted in prior cases does not pertain to Doreson as he is not being held against his will, is not a a minor and not being forced to even perform the menial task of mowing the back lawn which Doreson's father states is "not really that big". Doreson still, however, remaioptimistictic.

Doreson, digs through his parent's basement fridge pulling out a push-pop and a frozen pizza, then concludes the interview with: "I guess Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose. Wanna go play some Halo or something?"

Just what do you think you're telling me?

opened up the ol' star and tribune this weekend. i like reading about stuff. i pulled off one of the annoying ads and, before tossing it to the coffee table with the other refuse, i happened to take a look at the ad. it was, in a word, retarded. so retarded that it stopped me cold in it's blatant retardism. i'm not one to look at ads that aren't for women's lingerie or plasma tv's but this one caught my eye.

the ad featured the retard from american idol, taylor hicks. it also featured a ford car. the images were split and covered the entire above the fold part of the page. the bottom half had the standard boilerplate for car sales ads. that's it. i think there may have been a small blurb about "being bold". that's it.

so we have a photo of some douche from american idol that clearly has nothing to do with the car ad. it's obviously just a stock photo of the guy seeming happy. and by "happy" i mean it seems like he has a gigantic black Rambone TM brand dildo shoved up his butt and he enjoys said feeling immensely. then we have the picture of the car (to it's credit it doesn't seem particularly concerned with taylor hicks ample trunk space).

so what the hell is this ad? are they telling me that taylor hicks likes ford so i should too? are they telling me that taylor hicks kinda likes fords but not enough to do a real ad where he's actually in the same fucking frame as the car he's trying to get me to buy? do the ad execs think just by throwing two things on the same page i'll assume they're big fans of one another? what the hell is this stuff? and frankly, how can i get a job doing it because i know these jackasses make some coin.

marketing is a weird thing. i'm not a fan of course. i bought a tivo just to save myself from these idiots and voila, now i can actually watch tv again without wanting to hurt someone while simultaneously buying a sweet new lawnmower at Home Depot (no interest til '07 on any purchase over $299? sign me up!). i'm about as militant as someone can be for someone sitting on the couch with some salsa and chips. i hate ads. hate 'em. i think they're kinda demeaning and lowest common denominator stuff when it boils down to it. and i don't like feeling manipulated. so i buy tivo to avoid tv commercials and listen to public radio pledge drives to avoid listening to crap on the radio. i'm the jackass who won't buy a shirt with a label on it. if i could somehow where blinders to avoid billboards i'd do that too but that just seems like overreaction.

i'm relatively comfortable knowing that somewhere, possibly in Ohio, someone is working to get me to buy more Ding Dongs this year. i'm okay with that i think. it's just the execution that irritates me.

Has anybody here seen my old friend Tom?

it all started off kinda weird, i'm not gonna lie, at the time i thought it was an odd way to start a friendship. him on the radio and me in my car (or possibly my garage doing some cleaning). sure it was peculiar. but he kept on telling me he was my friend and eventually i believed him. on the way to work in the morning he'd talk to me in between cock rock on 93x. on the way home listening to sports updates on kfan he'd be there. always. i'm your friend. i'm your friend. why wouldn't i believe him? i value persistence in my friends so he was obviously playing me just right.

turns out Tom Shane is not a very good friend. he never calls. i have friends that i only speak to once or twice a year but they're still better buddies than Tom Shane. he never wants to just hang out either. he's always working. always traveling to bangkok or tahiti or other exotic places. i have other friends that go to cool and interesting new places but they don't lord it over on me. my other friends also don't use the radio. Tom Shane uses it exclusively. he's like the friend that gets a sweet walkie talkie set and then just wants to talk to you on that even though he's in the kitchen making a samich while you're 12 feet away in the living room watching the game. he's that kind of guy. just with radio instead of kmart walkie talkies. admittedly he probably paid more for the use of the radio but it still seems like a jerky move to me.

Tom Shane never goes to the movies with me. i've never had to say "stop hogging all the popcorn Tom Shane." never had to give him a nasty look as we listen to our shared bag of reese's pieces fall out of his lap onto the floor and roll down the aisle. Tom Shane doesn't do movies.

Tom Shane won't go out to lunch with me either. even when i showed up at his fabulous store in golden valley he still said no. that's a long drive for me Tom Shane, you could at least go to applebees for a Take Two platter combo, i would have shared dessert. but noooooo he won't even come out and talk. at least i got a good deal on a set of jamaican pearls. thanks for the discount buddy. you don't pay retail when your buddy owns the store.

i think i'm gonna stop talking to Tom Shane. he's too businessy for me y'know? take a load off Tom Shane. put your dogs up and have a margarita every now and again. why is it always about work with you? i'm done. i'm out. maybe i'll call you when i have an anniversary or something and we can work out a deal. i mean, that's why people have a friend in the diamond business right?

Beyond BO

The worst BO I ever had the pleasure of smelling was in the Franklin D Roosevelt metro stop in Paris. It had been a hot day in Paris and I had broken a sweat while eating ribs at a small café (I had tried to order a hamburger, but the waitress, insulted that I didn't speak the language brought me ribs instead. My traveling companion had also ordered a burger which she received, but her's had a fried egg on the top of it. You may have lost the war, Frenchie, but you still find new and exciting ways of insulting us! touché, sir, touché!) I was traveling, I was nervous I’m sure I didn’t smell good; but compared to the man standing next to me on the platform, my BO smelled like a poof of a fart.

His BO had turned so rotten that it had taken on a smell not unlike a salad oil. An alchemist’s mixture of vinaigrette, essential oils and perhaps just a hint of spice. It was so beyond body odor that it had taken on a life of its own and wreaked so rotten that it actually didn't smell bad at all; it numbed the nose like hot water feeling cold. I have not eaten salad, however, to this day.

Since then, perhaps because they are aware of their own ability to generate body odor or perhaps because they're French (they put fucking fried eggs on burgers, man!) the Parisian government has recently introduced an aroma therapy policy for the metro stations of Paris. 18 tons of Hermes and Rochas perfume are now mixed with cleaning supplies and then used to create a more positive environment in metro stations.

This only comes to my attention because the person sitting next to me has taken to listening to Elton John, Colplay and some days, not often mind you but when he needs that little extra boost, a little Five For Fighting. It's turning me into a bit of an old bitty as I've now had to ask him to kindly turn down his music several times. This isn't because his music is too loud or doesn't allow me to work- thank you very much I can distract myself easily enough. Rather, it's because I find this form of music to be completely offensive.

Sure I have my own bands that I keep neatly tucked into the closet (Snow Patrol, Something Corporate and… sigh... KT Tunstall) but at the very least I have the common decency to listen to them in the privacy of my own home or with the sound turned down so low that no one will be the wiser at work.

And so, in a move that I have stolen from the French (and from Folgers) I have secretly replaced his crappy music with good music. Now, let's sit back and see what happens for the rest of the day. He gets in at 8:30 and I'll be updating the comments section. Enjoy! And support good music!

the good doctor

... shiftily looks around...

heh heh... i have infiltrated.

have i defiled? hmm, nah. although, some might argue otherwise.

regardless... i am woman. i am voluntarily blogging for the BMC. i must be either rediculously stupid, horrifically smart or bound and gagged and forced by the heathens to type witticisms with only my toes.

_______

today i was told to enter the kitchen, barefoot and naked and make some meat for the BMC men. i laughed (rather heartily) and humored the request (you'll see why in a moment. i know they never read this thing - except for maybe the part about being naked - which is why their posts are so self-gratifying, therefore enabling me to expose my grand plot to the masses sans interruption).

i entered the BMC kitchen and gasped with a mixture of asphixiation and repulsion (oof, and i thought ellen the intern might have at least changed the sponge once in a while). i promptly went home. i have clean formica countertops. i have a new green sponge. i also have the power of Grill, which the BMC kitchen surprisingly lacks. i also decided to concoct an irresistible treat for the boys back at headquarters: the Juicy Lucy.

for those not privvy, the Juicy Lucy is a stuffed hamburger. the best ones are stuffed with just cheese, but occasionally you enter a fancy minnesotan restaurant and get yourself an herb and cheese stuffed hunk of meat, charred slightly and oozing with melty goodness... i digress... the best ones are made with cheese. they are impossible to refuse if you like meat (and regardless of ninny-isms and nay-sayers, the boys at BMC are meat-eaters).

and so i went about my "duty", mixing and stuffing, patting and sizzling, all the while chuckling to myself with the Evil Laugh. for inside those little meaty pockets were gobs of blue cheese, coated in a mixture of dihydrogen monoxoide. say it with me now: bwahahahahahahaaaaa!!! with each spit of fat hitting the grate, my plan of domination comes to fruition... with each hiss of the meat, i am closer to the goal...

Juicy Lucys are best served on lightly toasted kaiser rolls with pickles, ketchup, mustard and a few leafy greens. i hope you enjoy, boys!

Operation: What Price Freedom?

WASHINGTON- President George W. Bush is expected to announce a new initiative to round up all people that can be described as "kinda quiet and keep to themselves". This new government program would ship offenders to Camps- the term “Camps” was the Presidents idea to promote “fun”. The target destination to be announced is the state of Wyoming as the largest per capita of offenders have already reside there.

According to White House staff member "Rover", who chose to speak only if granted anonomity, the radical new idea was hatched from the head of the President and is not to be considered Election Year Polotics.

"The President secluded himself in the West Wing for the past four days and has been watching America's Most Wanted. Using a simple logic, from the majority of the cases that he witnessed, he reached this final solution."

The President was discovered by his mother who had no idea that her son was watching so much television. According to Rover, the President was largely incapacitated at the time, reduced to mumbling "Evil Doers" while staring far off on the horizon.

The President's mother, Barbara Bush, nursed the child back to health. She took the President on a quick turn through the Executive bathroom and a prolonged sit on the Executive throne. Staffers described the sit on the Executive throne afterwards as "Frothy".

The initiative sprung from the head of the President shortly thereafter; an act the Religious Right is speculated to recognize as a directive from God.

This is to be the largest round-up of U.S. troops on U.S. soil since President Roosevelt detained thousands of Americans of Japanese decent after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Or, perhaps, since women started making their husbands watch Desperate Housewives so that they could have "Together Time".

A Reunion Most Bitter

- Gelsenkirchen, Germany. Site of the 2006 World Cup. Recently.

Bodie - You? What are you doing here?





Johnny Utah - I've...I've come for you. Bodie...






Bodie - To arrest me? That was a long time ago man. And I go by Nedved now. I'm an international futbol star.




Johnny Utah - I didn't say I was going to arrest you. I just want some answers. And isn't this soccer? Cuz you know I used to play football for Ohio State. I was really good. Remember you complimented me...


Bodie - Answers huh? Answers are like the ocean man. You gotta be like the ocean.



Johnny Utah - I don't know if that makes sense.






Bodie - Be like the ocean. Why did you follow me here?




Johnny - Do you remember? Back on the beach? Just the two of us talking as the sun died in the west? Do you?







Bodie - ...





Johnny - I do man. I do. You taught me how to be a man that summer.





Bodie - Look I have to practice man. I have to be ready for my match.



Johnny - I hate you. What have you become?






Bodie - I need to stretch here. Oh, hey Lubo.








Johnny - Where did you go! I searched all over.






Bodie - I've done a lot of things. Things I'm not proud of. Just to get by. To find that rush. That thrill. I thought you understood.








Johnny - What have I done? I quit my job to find you. It became an obsession. I was an F....B.....I....AGENT! And now I'm just a man with no future.



Bodie - What about the girl? Maggie?




Johnny - She left me for my partner.






Bodie - The guy who looked like Gary Busey?






Johnny - Yeah. Turns out it really was Gary Busey. He was doing some research for a role and I got confused or something. I dunno. It hurts too much to think about. It's like you said, she's like the wind...



Bodie - Dont' sweat it. I thought she was kinda Fug myself.




Johnny - Do you even like girls?






Bodie - Are you kidding? Here take a look at this. I'm all man.








Johnny - What is this Glamour Shots?






Bodie - There's no bigger rush than holding your lady in your arms. Shirtless. While a teenager with braces takes pictures of you at the Jacksonville East Mall.



Johnny - You've changed.






Bodie - Be like the ocean. I have to go.




Johnny - That doesn't make sense! Remember the football? The real kind? In America on the sand and stuff! Doesn't that mean anything? What do you think of me?



Bodie - I think you're awesome Johnny Utah. 100% Awesome.

The Mulonic Calendar

In all honesty, I've become more attentive of this new calendar that I have devised and the psychological effects it has occurred, but I'm still not ready to give up on it. On paper, thinking that it is always the day before seems great and that it truly is something that helps. This could be my Mother Theresa Moment.

To understand the Mulonic Calendar first we must accept that today is Tuesday. A quick glance at a conventional calendar will inform you that today is Wednesday, but that advice is not to be headed. So, the goal for today is to convince myself that today is Tuesday. The overall benefit of this being that when Friday rolls around and my brain is now deadlocked that it's Thursday it's as though I get a bonus day off.

This new methodology of naming the days came as a brief epiphany. I woke up at five thirty in the morning and thought it was time to get up and face the cruel, cruel morning. This realization only lead to the greatest feeling in the world as I realized that I didn't need to be up for nearly two hours and that the sweet bliss of sleep could once again be mine.

So, thought I, if this reaction could be captured accidentally why couldn't the process be artificially duplicated via the days of the week?

Thus the process was implemented. Monday, at first, became a bit of a chore as I missed some work convincing myself that it was Sunday. With a quick application of a more simplistic version of Sullivan logic (a system originally developed by Andrew Sullivan) I convinced myself that Sunday was Monday and then another bonus day off!

And yet, after several weeks of living the Mulonic calendar I began to fall into the blackest state of depression. The reason, dear children, came through hellish introspection and that my state of anger and rage was from having to endure, really, two Mondays. Feeling that nagging feeling like it should be Wednesday and I was one step closer to Friday only to realize it was really only Tuesday.

Most of your finer philosophers would tell you the "Live for Today" motto at this point. But not me. I'm going to ride this thing into the ground. Live for yesterday and all the pain that comes with it.

Ergo, a joyous Tuesday to you and yours.

my life would be much cooler if the dude who sits next to me at work was replaced by michael cuddyer of the minnesota twins

...there's really no question about it. none. my life would be totally better if the guy who sat next to me was a slightly above average major league baseball player. in fact, here's a "fer instance" for you... if i was writing this blog and michael cuddyer was sitting next to me calmly resolving some issue on the phone with a client he would hang up and ask what i was doing. and i would tell him how cool it is to sit next to him during my workday and explain to him that i'm blogging about it. we could argue over whether he's slightly above average (my feelings on the subject) or rapidly improving (his stance). that would be much cooler than just writing a blog about the guy who sits next to me. nobody even knows who he is. i'm not even naming him because it doesn't matter. he could be anybody.

michael cuddyer would have to use his sick days here when the twins had day games. maybe he'd only play home games because of his intense interest in working a normal day job during the season. he'd be like the deion sanders or bo jackson of the office world. he'd have to miss sales meetings to play in a day-night doubleheader with the cubs. that would be interesting. he'd probably be a hero of the little man who would constantly say "wow, 1 for 4 with a double last night? I got tired mowing the lawn and he hit a double off of damaso marte! that would be much harder than trimming around my rose bushes. well played michael cuddyer!" i could hear him argue with his agent on his lunch hour. he'd have to rush to catch the train so he could get to the game for bp. maybe the company here would let him work an earlier shift to accommodate his schedule? i dunno. they're kinda dicks about that. but i'm not michael cuddyer of the minnesota twins so maybe it would be different if it were him.

the guy next to me sometimes talks about the soccer league he plays in on sunday nights. it's always fun to hear him go over the game even if it's about a sport i don't normally follow played by people who are not generally talented enough to deserve a crowd. michael cuddyer could talk about that walkoff homer he hit earlier this year in extra innings. that would be cooler than soccer talk in a sunday night men's league i think.

michael cuddyer is pretty much 100% more awesome than the guy who sits next to me at work. but then he's michael cuddyer. that's to be expected. man life would be sweet. "hey michael cuddyer would you like some coffee or tea? we also have hot chocolate with the little marshmallows." there would be jokes about us not being big leaguers and about him only typing 12 words per minute. that'd be the life...

An Episode in the Bathroom

In the kitchen the pledge drive blares and these sad stack of magazines sitting next to the toilette have been thumbed through too many times. I think to myself that magazines really are a fickle creature. I think what do these magazines say about me? But mostly I'm hoping that Gonzo will be coming home soon.

Quick back story: While going through the morning routine of general hygiene Gonzo noticed that the deadbolt on the bathroom door had popped out and when the latch was turned it wouldn't move the deadbolt forward or backwards.

That was the thought that hit my brain as I slammed the bathroom door shut. Not the first time when I tried to close the door and it wouldn't shut but more as I nailed the door with a well placed swoop kick and there was a violent clang as the deabolt sang home

And then there were the next thirty minutes. My cell phone rang in the other room in what I could only surmise was Gonzo calling to say that she and some of the other wedding revelers were going out for a quick drink and that if I wanted to I should join them. I begin to think of who would come and find me. I could be in here for days.

My only comfort is that if I did have my cell phone I would most likely be in here for the same amount of time; who is going to believe that been stuck in a bathroom. A similar thing happened to me once when I ran out of gas on the highway. Life still does have some good irony. I think you have to respect that.

Mercifully, Gonz finally comes home. She of course tries to turn the handle and then throw her body against the door.

She passes me tools under the door, however after breaking the latch on the deadbolt and finding the hinges on the door to have been painted and unusable my level of confidence that I'll ever leave this bathroom is sinking.

Gonzo goes and grabs the Super who we quickly discover knows about as much in the ways of springing me as I do. His first sage like advice is to ask me if I've tried turning the latch. When this fails he tells me to remove the hinges and when I tell him they're painted shut I hear him move off to other hinges in the house to find out if they really are unmovable. Being a guy myself, I know that he has now turned to page 15 in the Great Book of Guy: After not being able to fix the original problem Guy will move around the residence until he is able to fix something, thus proving his masculinity.

I removed the faceplate from the back of the door, taking off 80 years of lead based paint along with it. Inside I can't see any mechanism as there is an obstruction of a blocked piece of wood. The Super goes downstairs trying to call the building owner and Gonzo is looking at me through the hole where the doorknob was.

Are you naked? She asks me. I had been in the shower. Along with not bringing in cell phones or accessories of that ilk my showering system is often in-out-done… none of this fancy stuff like: deep cleansers or body oils or fancy hair product. I've wrapped myself up in a towel, but now that the super hasn’t been able to magically make the door open, I begin to wonder how many people will be called in to bust me out and see me in my full glory. I should be doing push-ups or something.

I'm explaining all this to Gonzo and how I can't get the stupid deadbolt to turn. I've been jamming my flathead screwdriver into the deadbolts hole and then grabbing onto the pliers and pulling it as hard as I can but still nothing is happening. Now while I talk to Gonzo, I hit the mechanism then turn.

And then, finally, it worked.

The Rise of Serpentra II

Mark June 11th down on your calendars kids. Do it today. It's an important day. It's the first day of the rest of your dominated lives. Serpentra II has been borne to this earth. She has come to dominate and rule without mercy. She has come to end all governments (yay) and all freedom (boo). She has come to make Baldee's life a little more complicated (yay? boo? we'll go with yay for now).

Serpentra II is an odd name for a ruler when you've never heard of Serpentra I you say? Good point. Well done on that, I like where your head's at. Serpentra I was born a few years ago and while true the prophecy did say that she would dominate all who opposed her and rule with an iron fist this hasn't really happened to this point. In fact she's really just a beautiful little girl. Very sweet. Not dominating at all. So, Baldee went back to the lab to create Serpentra II. After months of frustation and no progress his wife agreed to help out and bam, Serpentra II was on her way. It should be documented that Baldee's "lab" is really just the living room at Remo's house where he gets dominated playing Battlefronts II. He then bottles the rage created by his own weakness and tries to create life using that anger. He's not really a Scientician.

While it is true that Serpentra I, still just a few years old, may very well grow up to fulfill the prophecy it does make sense that Serpentra II should be around. To serve in her place if Serpentra I decides to be a dental hygienist or something of equal suburbanity. Why have one ruler of the planet when you can have a backup for twice the price? That's just good thinking right there.

It should also be noted that Serpentra I may be following the time honored code of wrapping the world around her finger with sweetness and normal kiddishness and then crushing us later. This can't be ruled out. But I'm happy Serpentra II is around. This world needs some dominating and she seems to fit the part.

All Hail Serpentra II. She has come to do what her father could not. Maybe she'll take over this planet and one day protect us from evil aliens, the undead, or Right wing propagandists. Maybe she'll rule in peace and harmony after a brutal coup that leaves a trail of destruction from Des Moines to Pequot Lakes (sorry bob). I figure worst case scenario she'll be able to beat Mule, Remo and myself at the occasional video game. Which is really a big step up for the Baldee family. Domination comes in many forms.

Finally - It should be recorded in print that Harmon Laboratories, in conjunction with The Little Lady Foundation, may in the future create a 100% awesome boy to counteract the evil of Serpentras I and II. This boy will grow into a young man and may even take Serpentra II to the prom and even put the corsage on her without poking her with the pin. This young man will have a deft touch around the ladies. He will rule with Serpentra II at his side. Trust me, it'll be better for everyone. Women are crazy.

A Little Coitus Couldn't Hoit Us

We here at the BMC have noticed that our audience is growing. Sure you might call the rate at which it is growing as "modest" or "humble" or even "pathetic" if you happen to be a jerk with a fetish for telling the truth. That's fine. We can accept it. The fact is that our readership is growing and not only that, it is expanding beyond these sad little borders you people call, um, borders. Yes folks, we've gone international.

We've had hits from India, Ghana (serious), Iran (again, serious), Egypt and other places with moderate to high levels of hatred of the US. Many of these countries are middle eastern and have oppressive governments and peculiar views on sex. I only mention this because we have "coitus" in our name. So we tend to get one or two lonely foreigners a day looking for love in all the wrong places.

We feel for these people. The interweb is all about porn, sports and blogs. In that order. And we can't deny a man his porn. Especially if he's from a country that may frown upon his "spilling of the seed". It's not spilling by the way, saying you "spilled" implies it was an accident. People don't accidentally go to porn sites by typing in the pertinent information and then accidentally rub their cash and prizes. That's intentional. Spilling? Seriously.

We realize that many americans (and to a lesser degree canadians) also go looking for the ol porn and end up here. Which is kind of fantastic when you think about it. This only happens on the interweb. If a bunch of horny dudes from around the world showed up at your job at Burger King or the accounting firm expecting naked ladies it would be awkward. On the web we just consider it a visitor and high five each other on our growing popularity.

We've cooked up something special for our international guests. This is just for them as Americans tend to need full blown audio/video streaming porn with surround sound going and we're not set up for such things. This is for the more delicate and nuanced of lovin' lovers. This is for you international friends.

Please note - we love you all but we couldn't bring ourselves to sink to these depths. So give a big hand for Intern Jerry's first foray into semi-gay, semi-porn...

Homecomings

Nowadays I vacation alone though I still find the majority of my time is spent sending text messages and reports back home. For the most part to make sure that they haven’t replaced me but also out of need to make jokes that the locals wouldn’t understand. There is a common thread of decency that most peoples of this world have as an unwritten bond: Dead hooker jokes should not be told within the first twenty minutes of meeting people.

Traveling alone does fulfill my need for me time but mostly revolves around a large group of my friends discovering a journal. It was a trivially piece of nonsense I kept while traveling through Europe with a friend of mine, we'll call him Jordan for the time being.

The first few pages of the document are innocent enough: experiences with famous castles, seeing the sex district in Amsterdam and interactions with locals at some of the fine watering holes of which Europe is so deeply blessed. Then the tome takes a turn for the worse, all communication betwixt Jordan and I break down. He can't shut up about snow orangutans and nonsensical ideals of his own philosophy. Two categories he is not adequately prepared to speak on, yet does not shut up nonetheless. Mental articles of war begin to form in my mind as I plan how to kill him.

If this would've been a Phillip K. Dick story I would, no doubt, have been arrested or worse. It wasn't as though I was just going to kill him, no this was something I was going to have fun with. Different uses of tools of medieval torture are readily available to the eager minded traveling Europe. Never mind the fact that I have no real background in the subject. I've always been a quick learner and, it's like they always say: Learning is only as fun as you make it. Carving up Jordan with a curved blade while he screams bloody murder sounds like an aces trip. Take that! You and your monkeys with typewriters writing every book ever written!

Alas, but the trip ended before I could take his life and to this day I think we're better friends for it. Still, I do have lots of friends and often contemplate where my rep would be if I would've shived Jordan, even just a little bit. I would've had to replace him, but I'm sure there is some local crazy at the soup kitchen that would do an adequate job.

Now I'm here alone. Today is a big day of seeing the sites that are hundreds of years old and then finding an establishment that caters the beverages that make trips bearable. Back home it's a birthday party for a friend of mine and while I carry on text message conversations with the entire party I do miss them. Surrounded by all this culture and different people and unable to enjoy it because this isn’t where I want to be.

I'll be home soon.

Give em a Taste of What We Like

I get a lot of letters, emails, and just your average person on the street will stop me and ask "What else can I do to spice up there relationship ".

With this I usually tell them to Fuck off only because I'm, not on the clock but then I take a breather and apologize and begin to solve there problems what can I say I have a gift .

I had an epiphany which brings up todays topic ..

In the Past I have spoken on divorce and some of the things I think can be done to solve the problem but those were mainly things that women can do .

Today Lets see what men can do ..

Lets start with role reversal no I'm not going to suggest the tuck
which is not painful if you have a lot to work with but if your working small, chances are any kind of genital disfigurement will be painful I mean you cant pull a finger rubber binder around your hand now can you .

Anyway ..

Lets start, with a topic that most women find disgusting and guys spend up to $100 a night in some places .

Good old fashioned Pole Dancing ..

Now guys don't wince this is a serious topic in many forward thinking Athletic Facilities there is an increase in classes that teach the art of Pole Dancing and yes for all you nay Sayers out there it is an art form ...

If going to a public place makes you uneasy there are private locations which I will not provide you with . Why, WHY you may ask because those FUCKS don't give me residuals ..

So imagine the look on your wife or girlfriendS face when you gently, yet firmly hold the pole walking slowly in a fairy carefree like motion then suddenly you gently swing your body on one bent leg around the Metal Rod and with one swift motion you suspend your body weight on the pole ..

I have to interrupt because this is going to a odd place and now is the perfect time to take up proper Pole Dancing Attire ..

No shorts gents there is nothing more disgusting then being in a class and your watching a fellow student twirling around and you get a glimpse of his sack not good .

And Lastly and most importantly No Speedo's do I even need to respond to that .

That's about it for today kids So lets get out there gents lets show our Ladies what were made of ..

Keep em Swinging .

8 Year Old Album

I'm listening to an album that was put out 8 years ago. It's excellent. Maybe even worthy of some sort of top 10 list, or perhaps a top 12 list. I need to be more arbitrary and less conventional and a top 12 list seems like a small step in the right direction.

I'm driving in my old and very much not quiet Grand Am listening to this album and wondering what the heck I was doing 8 years ago that was so important that I could overlook a little masterpiece like this. And I wonder if this thing, this excellent album, was just hiding from me until I was old enough wise enough beaten down enough to appreciate it for what it is.

I'm coming back from a long day in the sun and the bars and the parking lots and the streets. Grand Ole Day in St. Paul. The people stagger back and forth trying to look beautiful in halter tops and flip flops with an ear of corn the size of my forearm waiting to be eaten in their hands. The butter sliding down the backside of their hands and there's never enough napkins and never enough table space to make this convenient in any fashion. Maybe that's why we do it, to remind ourselves that we don't have to look amazing to be amazing.

I'm walking into another bar and the din from the conversations mixes with the Van Halen or Dylan or Ike Reilly or shitty jam band and sounds like nothing at all. So I drift and I think about the 8 year old album that has been hiding from me and I remember the line "what a beautiful face I have found in this place that is circling all round the sun" and I feel all right and kinda beautiful and happy at once.

I drink some sangria at the mexican restaurant and try not to focus on how little I know these people at the table. Mule holds court further down and he's surrounded by his friends, Mule has a ridiculous amount of friends. In Mule's court we are noticeably short in the knight department but our jesters and minstrels are topnotch and the sangria is perfect for a sunny day in June and we don't fucking need any knights. So we drink and meet strange new people and have conversations while waiting in line for the bathroom and refuse shots of Jager from lonely old guys at the Muddy Pig and try not to swear in front of the kids in the booth to our right.

Half the time I'm engaged in conversation I'm wondering what I can say next to push things forward. The other half I'm thinking about the girl in the corner that reminds me of my wife and I wish she was here drinking bloody marys or singapore slings or just some not-cold beer from the overworked tap with me and these people who are not our friends but for these few hours can be. And I'm thinking about the line from the 8 year old album that goes something like "your mom would stick a fork right into daddy's shoulder, and dad would throw the garbage all across the floor. As we would lay and learn what each other bodies were for."

I replay the line in my head as I walk back to my car. My car that will bring me more of this album and bring me back to my wife and give me a blast of cool air after a day of walking in the sun and I feel good. Not perfect, far from it, but good. And that's enough.

One last line insists that I include it. It's about...everything. Everything important anyway. It's fucking brilliant and it makes me realize that I wouldn't change anything in the past 8 years. Not a damn thing.

"and one day we will die
and our ashes will fly
in the aeroplane over the sea.
but for now we are young
let us lay in the sun
and count every beautiful thing we can see."

Ralph on Ralph

We sent Ralph home early today. He couldn't handle it. Nobody wanted to see him cry.

He had done his best to cover it up. His soft blubbering had made a fluttering overtone to the rhythm and melody of phones ringing and people answering. Sometimes, though, enough is enough and in the case of Ralph, this was enough.

It's not like he's fired. It's not like he's not going to be here on Monday. The man needs some alone time. He was crying at work! When he is like that he should be with his friends, his wife, his dog or somebody that would understand his problem. Nobody here even knows Ralph.

Besides there is no excuse to cry. It's Friday. It's sunny. What would make a man cry under the flourescent lights of the office? He should've manned up. He should've gone outside. He should've smoked a cigarette. He should've saved whatever it was for later. He should've had a drink. He should've called in sick.

What makes his life so great that he think he should cry at work? What makes him think we'd care?

So we sent Ralph home early today. Nobody wanted to see him cry.

Amusement

In shallow breath he sits on the mountain top, waiting for the peak while holding the Bishop close. The Bishop with its' cracked and imperfect tower top; the poor Bishop who had no idea that he was really a pawn in this game.

The skyline is a new form of blue, one that has never been seen before. It wraps its' cloak about them like good Father Dream. Daring to want more out of life and reminding all how insignificant and fickle desire is.

In a rasp, a direction is formed and crushed: Happiness and the Wanton Pleasure; the objectivity of balance in life and the quest for the fulfillment of the Soul.

When you've hit bottom there is no where to go but up, so it is written. And so he climbed the mountain again, mostly because it was there. Looking out at the vastness below him he felt sorry because he knew that he was no longer master of the domain.

Then his voice gave out with the lack of oxygen. In a shallow breath he holds the Bishop close and pretends that everything will be okay, while he sits in his fortress of solitude. He grabs the Bishop one last time feeling his friend suffer an unmemorable little death then go limp. With care he tucks it away and with a gentle whisper “Go to sleep my little time bomb.”