I'd be lying...

if I said I missed typing shit here. I actually don't. Ever since escaping from corporate hell over a year ago I haven't found myself bored enough to log on here and type. Instead I've been writing elsewhere, actually being edited and published by someone other than myself. It's refreshing to have someone hand you back a copy with things for you to change, it's even better when they say it's perfect as it is and that its off to print.

Don't get stuck where your at people, life's too short. Did you picture what your doing right now as a kid? No. Don't give me that bullshit excuse that you need the money. You don't need half the shit you own face it. Ok maybe I still have a little Durden in me but seriously think about it the next time you sit down to your desk with your coffee and your donut. Maybe then you'll realize you should have been having OJ and a banana with some oatmeal the last 15 years.

Freddy, Fried and Ready

The stream washed along silently through the chilly spring morning in April. The sun was trapped behind the fluffiest white clouds you can remember. You know the type that just sits there in the sky never moving. Perfect for a painter who enjoys that type of thing but for an 8 year old boy out fishing with his father at 7 in the morning it really didn’t help the situation. Not that I minded going fishing with the old man. I just preferred doing it in the sun while sitting on a log or a chair fooling around while he minded the rods and reels. But this year was different, it was my first opening day of trout season and it would be one that I would never forget.

Dad was always an avid fisherman taking me and my brothers whenever he went to wet a line or as he put it “drown some worms”. We would run around doing anything but fish while he would be content just sitting there eating a sandwich or a soft pretzel. But this year he was going to make fishermen out of us. He bought us new fishing rods. Mine was fire engine red with Mickey Mouse on it while my brother chose the orange Donald Duck special edition. After filling up our new tackle boxes the night before we went to bed because we were leaving early for the secret fishing spot that no one else knew about. Excited we dashed off to bed as if it was Christmas Eve.

Well so much for the fishing spot being a big secret. Everywhere I looked that morning the banks of the Pennypack Creek were crowded with anglers with their lines in the water. We sat alongside my Dad eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast. Dad had a secret way of making sure the bread wouldn’t get soggy from the jam. He would cover up both pieces of bread with peanut butter instead of just one making a jelly proof barrier that tasted just perfect on whole wheat. After an hour of sitting around freezing my little ass off I finally felt a tugging on my rod. I had caught fish before but this one was a fish clearly not designed to be handled with my new Mickey Mouse rod. “Reel it in, this one’s all yours!” my father yelped as I became terrified that I was not only going to lose the half eaten sandwich in my lap but also the fish at the end of my line. Cranking the reel back I began to drag the mighty beast on the end of the line. “You were so excited about that fish you said ‘I think I’ve caught Godzilla!” my father tells me years later. With a couple of more wrenches on the reel I finally lug in the biggest fish I had ever caught up to that point, a 17 inch rainbow trout.

“Put him in the bucket!” my dad said and like a good little soldier I did just that. I couldn’t go back to fishing after that, not with my new found friend swimming around in the bucket at my feet. I dropped little kernels of corn in the bucket for him to eat but for some reason he didn’t want any. By the end of the day my new friend, Freddy was what I named him, was joined in the bucket with 4 or 5 more trout which my dad and brother had caught throughout the day. It was time to go home so my father emptied the bucket of its water and put Freddy in his trout box as we started to walk for the car.

Arriving home I couldn’t wait to put Freddy into the family fish tank. “He was going into something that night but it wasn’t going to be the fish tank.” my mother later remembered. I was informed that Freddy would be joining me for dinner that night and really what kid wouldn’t want to have his new buddy over for dinner right? Well that wasn’t exactly what my father had in mind. Being that it was my first fish of the season it was “family tradition” to eat your first catch. Shaking my head in disbelief I watched as my father pulled Freddy out of the trout box and onto the cutting board. My little buddy wasn’t moving, in fact he looked dead. Not that it mattered because two seconds later my father was chopping off his head with a butcher’s cleaver. Next he cleaned Freddy, filleting him and then placing his meat into a preheated cast iron skillet along with some onions, peppers, butter, and fresh garlic. He then sprinkled some salt and pepper on him for good taste I guess. I was going to be sick. Reeling from my loss I was told to have a seat at the dinner table. I ate my salad like I was told to and when the main course arrived on my plate I instantly broke down into tears. Sitting in front of me was the filet of my good buddy Freddy. “Here you go son, Freddy, fried and ready!” I heard my father yelp with what I remember sounding like a southern accent. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t even look up at the horror on my plate. Still crying profusely I begged my parents to let me go to bed without dinner that night. They refused my plea stating I had to eat my dinner. “Eat my dinner?” I thought to myself. They had to be kidding right? Me, eat my little aquatic play pal from just an hour and a half before? I don’t think so. I ended up sitting in my kitchen chair for the next 2 hours mourning the filet that was on my plate. Eventually I was given my reprieve and I got up to go to bed. I left Freddy on the table that night. I don’t know what happened to him after that but I would bet $2 my dad probably had something to do with disposing the body.

To this day I have never eaten a fish I have caught out in the wild. Now I practice C.P.R., catch-photo-release, when I go fishing. Even my old man stopped eating them. Part of it I’m sure was learning how much the old Pennypack Creek was polluted but also I like to think he remembers that one night many years ago when his son was served a fish he just couldn’t eat.

It’s Not the Champagne Rattling

It is amazing the feeling of speed one gets when flying 30 feet over the barren desert landscape and then to have the Earth suddenly fall out from underneath you into what seems momentarily a bottomless abyss. The butterflies that reside in our stomachs suddenly decide to throw a party while a thermal air current catches the helicopter we are flying in and sends it shooting upwards. Dizzying and maddening you finally get an idea that you’ve arrived. Through the glass in the floor of the chopper you realize you are now over a mile above any tangible earth, you are now hovering above the north rim of the Grand Canyon and your guide/pilot informs you your ride is just getting started. With that the nose of the chopper began to dip reminding you of that impending doom-like sensation as you reach the top of a roller coaster. The butterflies began to party like it was 1999 and before you know it you are shooting straight into the canyon at over 100 miles per hour.

When my girlfriend and I had inquired at the concierge desk about Grand Canyon tours the woman warned us both that there were some tours “more adventurous” than others. My girlfriend, never having been a big fan of anything fast or involving heights, wasn’t really into the idea of a helicopter tour; I on the other hand was. If I was going to see the Grand Canyon I was going to get the entire experience. After looking through the endless catalogues I settled on the tour that the concierge described to me as “…like a roller coaster ride through the canyon with a soft landing on the bottom.” I was sold, my girlfriend not so much. She wished me luck as I booked the trip and plunked down the money for my upcoming thrill ride. As we walked away it dawned on me to ask the concierge if there had been any accidents lately. “There was one last week, but it wasn’t this company. You’ll be fine.” she said. I was scheduled to be picked up the next day at 3:00 p.m.

Diving into the Grand Canyon in a chopper is crazy. “What the hell am I doing?” you think to yourself as the pilot pushed the chopper through the canyon with what seemed like reckless abandon. Someone onboard commented how it is like riding with Luke Skywalker down the trench of the Death Star. Swooping back and forth, up and down, the rush of excitement just would not end. Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was actually a little over 5 minutes, we found ourselves in the heart of the canyon. Everywhere you looked was nature’s majesty, with colors ranging from the tan of the desert to green grass growing by the murky brown water of the Colorado River. We cruised for 20 minutes, taking in the canyon from above, snapping pictures every second. It was surreal. In front of you is a place you have seen a thousand times before on both television and in photos but now you know it actually exists. For miles around all you see is canyon, the sheer size of which is nothing short of daunting. You are told by the pilot that you are would be landing shortly to refuel for the rest of our flight and to give everyone on board a chance to stretch their legs. The time you have spent over the canyon has only wetted your thirst for more of it.

With the fuel tank full we head out for our landing at the bottom of the canyon. The trip to the location takes about 25 minutes and the entire time we are surrounded by the huge crack in the Earth. The descent into the canyon at slow speed was a little eerie. I couldn’t help but feel like we were travelling to the bottom of the planet and I guess in a way we were. We were scheduled to be on the bottom of the canyon for an hour and a half so I decided to walk with two other people along the river at the very bottom. Before we left on our short hike the pilot had put out a spread of beverages, assorted cheeses, and fruits and vegetables. We all reached for champagne and toasted to our trip thus far. The breeze blowing gently through the valley brought with it a sweet scent of flowers that were blossoming along the river. There was something religious about the place. It was absolute quiet minus the sound of the water and the wind running by us. As we walked by the river we were greeted by another sound. What sounded like a baby’s rattle only got louder as we progressed forward along the river’s edge. “It’s not the champagne rattling,” I stated out loud. Then, as if almost on cue I noticed on a rock 4 feet in front of me a brown snake curled up and looking none too friendly. Instantly my mind started thinking about what I had seen on shows like Nature and The Crocodile Hunter. We decided just to back up slowly making note of where we stepped figuring where there was one rattlesnake there was probably another close by. It was decided amongst the three of us walking that we had gotten close enough to Mother Nature already and we started back towards the chopper for more alcohol to calm our now “rattled” nerves. The rest of the time at the bottom of the canyon I went and explored by myself with a plastic cup refilled with champagne and enough cheddar cheese cubes and crackers to last me a day or two should I get lost. Finding a rock I just sat down and listened to the quiet while letting the breeze hit my face and carry away any worries I had in the world. The bubbly never tasted better.

Moonlighting

The road to stardom isn’t as easy as most people think it is. Every year people from around the world land in Los Angeles and New York seeking to land a role in a television show or movie. They crave the spotlight, the fame and fortune that come along with celebrity and the advantages that follow. But it is not only in those two cities that a person can chase that dream. In fact in a warehouse in Bensalem, PA a man is chasing after that very dream, only he cannot pursue it until he is done sweeping up.

Jim Fetters by day runs his own exterminating business. Measuring 6’2” and weighing 280 lbs there isn’t much you could show him in the way of household pests that he couldn’t handle. “I get calls all the time from people freaking out because of the tiniest mouse running around their home. I go down and take care of it for them for $50 and have to stretch out the time I’m there to a half hour as to legitimize the fee.” When done with his daily duties of protecting us all from termites and the like Fetters drives a half hour to work out in a rusty old gym for an hour and then practices his three point landing. He states “In wrestling the first thing we learn is how to fall properly.” Fetters is in training to be a professional wrestler. He was going to originally enroll in college and pursue a degree in chemistry but decided the science of the squared circle was more his calling. When faced with the high costs of tuition of today’s universities and not wishing to go into debt because of it he decided to pay $3,500 to the Ring of Honor wrestling school. “I wasn’t getting any younger and wanted to do something with my life. I would watch the shows on television and say to myself ‘I can do that!’ so here I am busting my ass three nights a week and usually both Friday and Saturday nights on the weekend.”

The wrestling life is not an easy one. Wrestlers on the independent circuit today generally make no more than $75 a show. There are no health benefits as each wrestler is treated as an independent contractor. They have to get themselves to the shows on their own and maybe, just maybe, the promoter will load up the locker room with a couple of pizzas and some cold beer. “Try telling your wife that you just paid $3,500 for the right to make $75 a night twice a week.” Fetters makes a good point. The wrestling business makes its money by touring and putting on shows on a weekly basis. One week the show is in Boston, MA the next it could be Chicago, IL. For a married man with a baby due in less than 6 months the time away from home can be tough and it doesn’t help that he has only wrestled in one match thus far. In fact Fetters spends most of his Friday and Saturday nights setting up chairs in the arena, tearing tickets at the front door, selling programs, and then ultimately sweeping up the arena after the show is over before loading one of two trucks full of production equipment. “It’s tough; I’m not going to lie to you. I leave my wife every weekend and miss her like crazy just so I can get one step closer to fulfilling my dream of being a pro wrestler. She’s a good woman to let me do it, especially with the baby on the way.”

The **** ** ***** wrestling school has a stern policy on making sure its students learn the business of wrestling from the ground up. They are expected to be a member of the “ring crew”, the stage crew of the wrestling world, for a year before actually getting placed into a wrestling match in front of a live audience. Fetters just had his first professional match two weeks ago right in front of his wife here in Philadelphia. He came out dressed as an exterminator, “The Bug Buster”, as he didn’t have any money to buy the usually colorful spandex outfits the professional wrestlers sport today. He wrestled a fellow student who was half of his size and lost the match “because no one wins their first match.” Fetters exited the ring to a standing ovation after losing as many of the fans have come to know him as the guy who rips their tickets at the shows. “They’re a good bunch of people, they know how tough it is for us trying to break into the business and so long as we put on a good show they’ll be back the next week to show their support.” His wife was proud of him. She admits to not liking the schedule that comes with the sport and hopes that if he does make it in the business that he will be home more to be with her.

Following his first match Fetters explains he went into the backstage area where he got high fives and hand shakes from the fellow wrestlers. He then got undressed, showered, donned his civilian clothes, and waited for the show to end before grabbing his broom to sweep up. “It’s a surreal experience. You have the fans cheering for you, the lights burning hotter than they ever felt before, and this unimaginable adrenaline rush like nothing you have ever felt. I can’t wait to do it again.”

Back in the warehouse where the wrestling school is located five men are working out on old gym equipment that looks like it was imported from an eastern European prison. rusted in spots and patched together at points with duct tape. The smashing of weights against one another along with the smell of diesel fuel from the truck garage next door makes for an interesting training environment for sure. The ring, which the students are not allowed to use until they receive permission from the teacher, stands behind them with a single spotlight highlighting it. For them it is the promised land where each one of them will be able to make their mark in the world. Where they will get their chance to hold up the golden belt as champion of the world and gain that fleeting moment where there is no one that can touch them on this planet. Fortune and fame can be had inside of that ring so long as they are willing to give it everything they have and sacrifice whatever they have to in order to achieve it. Jim Fetters knows this and acknowledges it has been a tough time getting the support he needed from his family to pursue it. But how often does a person get to truly pursue a dream of theirs? Not often and Fetters knows this. “I’m realistic knowing this may not end up being a career path for me but I would never know if I didn’t try it. I want to die with as little regrets as I can.” With that he climbs into the ring in the back of the gym and stands under the spotlight basking in its warm glow.

Hot Pants

I had risen this morning and found the alarm clock to read 7:30. This was not good as I had to be in the office by 8:30 and my commute is an hour long. So I hopped out of bed and threw the clothes I planned to wear into the drier and set them to perm press hoping to get that "I ironed it but not great" look. I then went into the shower, washed up, scrubbed and then sprinted to the drier to get my clothes out. Threw on a pair of briefs and then my pants which were nice and warm from the drier. "OWWWW!!!" I screamed as I pulled on my pants hastily. It would seem my scrotum wasn't all the way tucked inside of my undies thus leading them to hit the red hot zipper. Holy shit did it hurt. I jumped up and down like a kid who had just stepped on a tack barefoot. Checking to see if my beans were ok I was pleased to find that they were minus a small red mark made by the zipper.



Remember to always check to see whether the zipper is hot or not before putting on your pants in a hurry.

Leading the Way

Yours truly heading into battle and on his way to winning the 2007 Championship.



I gotta admit, I think I look pretty fucking bad ass.

No more Mini

I'm no longer allowed to test drive Mini Coopers from one certain dealer in the area.
Apparently I "drive them too hard" when I take them out. I mean are we expected to pussyfoot the things when test driving them or should we be allowed to open them up and see what we can do with them? I'm sure when people go to buy a high end car they don't keep them under 60 in the highway test. The Mini is a driving machine and thus should be test driven as such.

One Sold

I don't believe it either but someone in the past year bought a FUGGO thong.

Potential

There's a good chance, a really good chance that I will be signing a professional sports contract within the next two weeks.

Yup I've been busy.

More to report after tryouts are over.

Me being lazy

I'm with ya ladies.

$60 for a bra? Thats recockulous! Is there that much engineering involved in keeping boobies upright? I guess there might be because the prices you all are paying for them is just insane. Now granted I'll pay $9 for a decent t-shirt or a good pair of boxer briefs but now much more. Maybe I just don't have the ability to understand the difference in how a $20 bra feels on verxux a $60 bra. Is it the padding? Is it the extra strength nylon needed to push them up to make them look like they did when they were 17? I proclaim ignorance onthis subject. Look I can barely take the things off properly when fooling around. Sometimes the thing is on there so tight a brother needs a crowbar to pop those clips in the back. Maybe thats where the pricing scale comes in, the security of those clips in the back?

I have a solution, skip the bra all together, especially on cool fall days where your just wearing a nice t-shirt or blouse.

Notice the Demon's Ass

Now my question is "Is that Hell?" Because having to smell all of the shit that is coming out of your mouth certainly would seem to qualify,

The Fuggo Challenge, 9/13/07

The first person to sucessfully find me on facebook and post the URL in a comment will win something. I don't know what but it'll be something.

Most of you probably still stopping by know my real name or at least can twist someones arm to get it. So happy hunting.

btw I've had this facebook thing for about a month now and I've logged in exactly twice.

Seriously?

Why do we bother folding underwear?

Now this is Lego Engineering

A machine made of Lego assembles Lego cars.

Now playing in CT...

Thats yours truly on the left with an equally capable paintball killer on the right. We played in a role-playing paintball game based on the HBO series Deadwood. We were literally hunted down by the law in the game for the first 2 hours of the game.

It's good to be wanted.

Circumcision

Recently a friend and his wife welcomed a bouncing baby boy into their household. He's a good little guy with the pre-req of 10 fingers and 10 toes. But what he might be losing shortly has erupted into a debate between he and his wife that I'd like to share since well he dragged me into it last week.

So far the little guy's little guy is still covered up by a foreskin. They did not have him circumsized at the hospital due to his father thinking it was a barbaric travety to rob his son of something that will only make sex all the much better in about 16 years. His wife agreed initially and life would be great for the little guy. Now after overhearing a debate about the subject on national radio she is second guessing the move and even went as far to schedule an appointment to have the foreskin removed. Now Dad has something to say about this saying it would rob his son of sensation during sex. Sensation that he, being circumsized, will never know about or be able to enjoy.

In my view we were born with the flap for a reason and I'd say let it stay. She is worried about him being rediculed about it but is it worth desensitizing him to save him from a couple of prebubescent chuckles?

I say no but now I ask you, would you have your son circumsized?

Drinking in HD

I don't know how many of you out there have an HD set already, probably a good bit of you. But if you don't your missing out. It's disgusting sometimes how great a show can look in HD. I don't even like to watch standard tv anymore, hell I can't. I actually turn off baseball when its in SD.


Since I've gone HD I have become addicted to one show in particular. It's called Three Sheets and it plays on Mojo, an HD channel I think most of you all should have. It's basically a show about a guy who flys to all sorts of faraway places and drinks the local tonic. Basically it's my dream job and the guy who hosts it is one lucky son of a bitch. I mean who wouldn't want to get paid to travel and drink? And you don't have to write anything! You just sit there and get schloshed while the camera rolls. Fuck I can do that.

Any way the show is responsible for the case of Guinness in my fridge at the moment. I watched the Ireland episode and immediately wnet out and bought a case of the stuff. I've been drinking it forever but never have a I bought a case of that stuff. One a day should get me through the next 3 weeks nicely. . . very nicely.

Remember kids...

Beans and hotdogs at 9 p.m. are not a good idea for a late night snack.

Up

All

Fucking

Night

.

Coming Soon....

Back during the 70's anyway...



I grew up on this movie and it's one of the few that if I catch it on while flipping the channels I'll sit and watch it. I just realized the girl behind the counter is Melanie Mayron. Remember her?

Experienced

Just got off the phone with a friend of mine who was a little worried about going into the office tommorow. Seems she slept with one of the VP's in her place Friday night. She's 28, he's nearly 55 by her estimate. She was "drunk" and regrets what happened but now she has to go into the office on Monday knowing full well what she did while praying nobody in her place finds out.

As we talked about it we started talking about sex with older people. I admitted to having a woman, well she had me, a woman in her 40's when I was 18. She lived on the block I grew up on and always dressed rather down, almost tomboyish. She used to ask my buddies to buy he pot whenever they went to get some for themselves and she basically just hung out the rest of the time.

One day she came out of her place and asked if I could help her move some furniture in her place. I wasn't doing anything at the time so I followed her in to the house fully expecting to help her move a sofa and some tables. I sat down and she asked me if I wanted an iced tea. I said sure and off she went to the kitchen. I looked around the place and checked out her fish tank that had this massive fish inside. She came back in and handed me my tea and we sat down on the couch. We started shooting the shit about people on the block and what they did behind their doors. Before I knew it her hand was rubbing my left leg. I looked up at her and she caressed my left cheek. My heart began to race as I started wondering if this was a dream. Meanwhile her hand started to inch it's way over to my crotch where it was now rubbing with a good stroke. She leaned in and the next thing I knew she was on top of me and we were making out. Back and forth we went flip flopping all around the living room until she invited me upstairs. I followed her up and as soon as I had closed the bedroom door she was already on working on my second pant leg. It didn't take long after that and we were moving furniture. It was fantastic to say the least and I walked out the back door of her place with a slight limp.

She had me by 20 years but numbers were only numbers that fall day.

If Fuggo was a car...

It would look something like this....

Porn

It sure does make life that much better doesn't it?

Shit now I have to wipe off the keyboard here.




Just kidding.

3 Years...

It's been 3 years since I started up this thing after being inspired by a dog named Moufa.

In that time the following may or may not have happened,

I drove a left-handed Porsche 911.

Had dinner with a U.S. Congressman from New Mexico.

Flew to Dublin, Ireland got off the plane and then promptly turned around and hopped another flight to Frankfurt, Germany.

Got a pedicure.

Threw a no-hitter in softball.

Ate 132lbs. of pasta.

Farted in an elevator and then smiled at everyone.

Quit my well paying job to go back and finish school.

Looked at boobies on the internet.

Had a waffle sandwich at a diner in Illinois at 4 a.m. with a Hell's Angel.

Beat back an invasion of Amazonian women hell bent on recovering a stolen spoon.

Lambasted, yes lambasted, someone for not doing enough lambasting.

Eaten a gyro with lamb meat for the first time.

Filmed a cooking show pilot in NYC for a show called Gamerbelly with me as the host.

Set a world record in paintball. (this ones true)

Let my hair grow long again to achieve that "Thor" look.

Traded drunken text messages with a fellow lush down south.

Done the safety dance.

Bought a new Wok.

And have only used it twice.

Was crowned "Karaoke King" at Killinger's.

Had a streak of 5 weeks Quizzo champion broken by a team of 13 people. I played by myself.

Had my left nut checked out to see if I had testicular cancer.

Read a whole lot about Lance Armstrong.

Turned into a 12 ft tall fuzzy orange simian.

and finally

I grew corn indoors all year round.

*thanks to Phain for pointing it out that I had missed my sites birthday.

Bad Pete!

Blam!

Nifty Flower Pic

I took this a couple of weeks ago while visiting an arboretum in the area. Thought I'd share it here.

Not much going on here, which is a good thing.

We'll get back to the wacky at some point with more candy reviews.

Imagine this...

this one is for her...

Imagine this...

... a world where a being can fly through the air as graceful as it can swim through the sea. At home in just about every enviroment it lives a relatively peaceful life passing it's days in relative bliss.

And then one day a ship lands on it's world. It says "NASA, USA, Earth" on it's side. From it's metallic shell a door opens and out from it's dark interior walks strange beings. The native beings at home as much in the air are curious about this new sight and move in to investigate it. Suddenly one of the newly arrived grabs one and stuffs it into a container, trapping it. The native population is held aghast at the action and soon many of them are being caught by the denizens of the metallic structure just landed. Desperate calls go out among them, warnings of what is taking place and the rest of the native secies is alerted and begin to organize a response. Shortly the next day at the rising of the third moon they move in to rescue their fellow natives. They attack with a ferocity not known to them before this. They were peaceful but now they are ferocious. Shortly they have dispatched the new beings and their ship. They have rescued their mates and buried their fallen.

Before this encounter it could fly through the air as gracefully as it could swim through the sea. Now it has tasted conflict, pain, hate, and it likes it.

On this world the humans are the aliens, and the native beings will no longer tolerate their presence.

Beware Flying Pizza

I will be in NYC in two weeks to film a pilot for a cooking show. It'll be me and another guy in front of the camera doing something never before seen in a cooking show. We're going to cook while naked.

Actually were going to be wearing these boots that let us stick to the ceiling. We're going to be cooking everything while upside down. This way we don't get any boogers in the food. See they'll just fall back into our nasal cavity.

Seriously though the show will be filmed outside in Central Park. We'll be hunting the wild game of the park with a bow and then clean and grill whatever we get right in front of whomever walks by us.

Not joking now we will be cooking hobo style. We'll be traveling down the back alleyways of the Bronx learning to cook from the assorted bums, mental patients, hookers, and crack dealers that infest the under belly of the city. Why not cook eggs while cooking meth?

We may end up doing a show where we boil things that are meant to be fried and vice versa.

Saturday Mornings

Hacked

Call me a geek but I've got 21 games stored on my Nintendo DS right now which leads to no time to update this site. I'm addicted what can I say, fucking Soduko's or however it's spelled.

I'm currently accepting donations to the Fuggo Condo Fund. The one I want is only $225,000 right now. Not bad when you factor in the 16' high ceilings. Can you imagine the funky ass shit you could hang from a ceiling that high?

Here check it out:Imagine the parties you could attend there! Send money now and reserve your spot at the house warming party.

Beer

Kersplash!

My phone fell in the toilet.

I may or may not need your phone numbers again.

I'd say this is a shitty predicament but since there was nothing in the bowl with the Nokia I'm clear.

Surprisingly...

Your puke is green after you down alot of green beer. But your piss still remains as golden as the treasure at the end of the rainbow.

justanotherdayinthefkd three four

It was a long dark day in the east side of Pratt. Kids crowded into the local check cashing center throwing quarter after quarter into the newest version of Street Fighter while the older generation of kids, them being over 60, stood inline cashing their monthly check. They would then move from that line and into the lottery ticket line where the girl with ratty blonde hair manned the machine. The smell of fresh donuts hung in the air along with the smell of hair dye and cigarette smoke. No breeze was blowing but even if there had been one the blood from the shooting outside would never had made it inside the check cash. Some poor soul was gunned down out front, probably drug related. Takes the police 5 minutes to show up. By that time all of the know it alls of the avenue had gathered preaching to the others there that they had seen everything. Meanwhile a man laid on the ground bleeding to death. One of the boys inside the check cash forgot aout his Street Fighter game and ran outside to man. He recognized the man on the ground. He was one of the reasons his once proud neighborhood was now a haven for drugs of all kinds. He and his actions were the reason that fire happened on Buffield St killing those kids. The boy thought about all of the terror the man now lying in front of him had wrought on his streets."He deserved this." The ambulance pulls up and paramedics pour out. After 5 minutes the man is loaded up on a stretcher. The boy doesn't think about that day for another 15 years.

Schtuff

Flintstone vitamins taste like candy. Eat to many though an you'll shit a hand grenade.

Ever try typing with a thumb splint on? It's like well like this!

I made pho for the first time the other day and I'll be damned, I didn't fuck it up.

Your probably wondering what pho is, google bitches.

Someone murdered my Ionic Breeze. Wheres Orbach when you need him?

No I don't want to go to the mall. Theres better things for me to do than stand out front of a shoe store on a Saturday afternoon. You know the spot, where all the guys stand looking over the railing at the women walking by down below. Maybe just once in awhile we get some decent cleavage. Maybe.

Duke didn't fuck up my pool this year, go VCU.

The 2001: A Space Odyssey soundtrack is fucking spooky. Want it? Send me an email.

Bourbon.

Blast from the Past

I happened upon this vid by complete accident yesterday on youtube. Boy did the memories come rushing back of me sitting in front of the tv watching Sesame Street. Youtube "Classic Sesame Street" and be taken back.

Funniest Show Today

Split from China Blue

A real good friend came up to me about 6 months ago while watching me coach a peewee hockey game. She looked at me and said point blank "It'd be a shame if you don't end up someones father, you'd be so great at it." I was taken back, flabbergasted, humbled a little, and flattered. I'll be honest... since that day I have kind of taken what she said to heart. Maybe I would make a good dad afterall? Or maybe I'll stay the course and be the cool uncle like I plan.

Remember Space Invaders?

Truth

So I'm sitting there trying to study when one of the members of my team starts crying histerically. She can't take it any longer. The secrets have become too great for her to keep hidden any longer. For too long she has met with him in parking lots hopping into his ride and then fooling around with him knowing full well that he would be going back to his first love and not to her. Her, she the woman he has been seeing on the side since last summer. Her the young woman he had said he really loved all this time. She loves him so dear she goes on to say and goes so far to tell myself and the other two there about thier plan for the future.

After she gets done I respond simply "Thats what you get for fucking the Burger King."


Ladies, don't get involved with a guy who sticks his meat into the mouths of millions each day.

Curry

Sorry but I'd rather try and smear curry onto the nuts of a rabid pitbull than eat the stuff. People have tried for years to get me to eat it and each time I did it's been more revolting than the previous time.

I know the problem. The first time I ever ate anything with curry in it it was prepared by a little Irish woman I used to work with. The Irish shouldn't fuck with curry I'm guessing.

Have a good recipe involving curry please by all means paste it into a comment. Or invite my ass over and make it for me. I'll do the dishes.

2 6 5

I'm a braggard when it comes to bowling on my Wii. 265 is fucking awesome.

Sculpture

Sometimes your art may not be someone elses art. Thus I present to you the following.

Fuck Yeah!

Expensive Reunion

W: Whatever happened to her anyway?
K: Lori?
W: Yeah
K: Heard she moved to Florida after marrying that 40 year old religous guy.
W: No that was Chris.
K: Oh yeah, then it was definitely Anne.
W: No, she actually ended up having three kids with two different guys. Her man kicked her out of the house when the third child came out alot darker than he was.
K: Say what?
W: He obviously wasn't the daddy since the kid came out with a "natural tan."
K: That's fucked up, was it the other Lori?
W: Nope she drives a truck now. Everytime she comes through town here she calls me up for coffee. Her truck is nice.
K: You fucked her in it didn't you.
W: Nah, ever smell the inside of a truck?
K: No why?
W: Trust me when I say it's not something that will be bottled up anytime soon.
K: Well I don't know what happened to her.
W: Oh well.

Five hours later at the Crazy Horse Too!

W: Well what do you know.
K: What?
W: That stripper in the corner.
K: On the pole?
W: Yeah, upside down, it's fucking Lori.
K: That's fucked up.
W: What's fucked up is that I'm going to pay $50 for a lapdance from a girl I used to have sex with for free.
K: Me too.

Planet Earth needs more...

... 70 degree days in January.
... free range chickens
... hours in it's orbit, preferably 8.
... rainforests
... volcanoes forming islands in the pacific capable of supporting an infrastructure and pineapple farms.
... chicks in bikinis, yeah!
... people who know how to make ham and bean soup.
... bison.
... bobsled runs.
... people who lick poison dart frogs.
... Lynda Carter circa 1970-something
... ways to fight back against the human scourge and it's blasted "earth movers".
... cowbell.
... animals that are tasty.

So I woke up Sunday morning to a magnificent blue sky outside. The sound of birds chirping with a sweet smell finding it's way into my room thanks to the bakery down the road. I staggered to the kitchen to start prepping some eggs and scrapple while knocking back a glass of cranberry juice. Just then I heard the paper boy, Ricky, hit my front door with the Sunday paper. "Perfect timing again." I thought to myself as I made my way to the front door. Sure enough bundled up perfectly with two rubber bands was my paper. I retrieved it and went back inside ready to fill my brain with the latest news and my belly with animal parts. Half way through my scrambling of said eggs I heard something I had never heard before...

"Gwack! Gwack!"

Perplexed I just ignored it but soon it came again...

"Gwack!"

It was clear it was coming from the back of the house so I cinched up my robe to make sure the old woman across from my backyard wouldn't see my manhood and preceded to walk outside to find out what was making the weird sound. As I rounded the corner to the east side of the house what I saw was something completely unexpected...

a pelican had landed in my backyard.



Go ahead and tell me pelicans land in your backyard all the time.

30? Mii?