Tag Archives: beer

More Like the Blowlympics

So my woman decided to write a post about how hating the Olympics doesn’t mean you aren’t patriotic, and since I haven’t felt very inspired to write anything for a few years or so, I figured I’d like to get in on that. Despite the fact that Torontonians apparently feel not supporting the Olympics is unpatriotic, I don’t know anyone around here who likes them. True, most of my friends are alcoholics, criminals, and white trash, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t a legitimate representation of everyone in America. Let’s quickly review the basics shall we?

1) The Olympics are boring. Watching them is like watching reruns of CSPAN. I would rather do chores around the house wearing a suit of fiberglass insulation than watch the Olympics. I would rather listen to Rosanne and Fran Drescher argue about yesterday’s episode of the View than watch the Olympics.

2) Almost all Olympic sports, challenging as they may be, are not spectator sports. Everyone knows figure skating sucks. Ski jumping may be scary, but if you see one jump you’ve pretty much got the idea. If you’re a dick like me and you enjoy people wrecking badly, it almost never happens. (Too soon for a luger pun?) Even the relatively exciting sports of BMX or Karate are still way lamer than watching a non-Olympic version like the X-Games or the UFC.

3) What the hell is bandy? I realize I live in a warm climate and ice sports aren’t popular, but seriously? The same thing goes for basque pelota, korfball, and boules. I may be an ignorant American, but I would argue that sports shouldn’t even be considered for a world tournament unless they are popular in more than two countries. What’s next, life saving? Oh wait, that’s an Olympic sport too. Being a lifeguard is NOT a sport, I don’t care how many boobs were on Bay Watch.

So now that I have irrefutably proven that the Olympics generally blow, let’s move on to how that applies to me being patriotic. Let me first start by explaining that I’m not patriotic in the traditional sense of actually being loyal to my country. Here are just a few things I hate about America: everyone who runs it, guidos, Fox News, people who insist America is the best country in the world without knowing anything about the world, the fact that Top Gear is filmed somewhere else, and public service announcements. (Seriously, shut up Hollywood)

However, this doesn’t mean there aren’t a ton of great things that have come out of America that I enjoy taking credit for when talking to foreigners. So if you think I’m unpatriotic, well fuck you. Here’s a list of amazing shit I or someone related to me probably were responsible for.

Look at this guy!

Grizzly Adams: He tamed fucking bears. I can only assume he settled for grizzly bears in the absence of wild dragons. Also he owned one of the coolest coat-beard combos in the history of mankind.

Rock and Roll: While the debate over who technically invented rock and roll is one that will never be agreed upon, (see Beatles vs Elvis if you’re an idiot) the fact remains that America has contributed a lot to Rock and Roll over the years. And while lots of my favorite bands are not home grown, a whole lot of them are. Skynyrd, Aerosmith, Van Halen, Metallica, Motley Crue, Guns N’ Roses, Disturbed, Green Day, Sublime, 311, Rage Against the Machine; the list goes on and on but I’m tired of copying crap from Wikipedia. The point is that without downplaying the contribution of the rest of the world, we’ve done some face melting rocking over the years.

The Ultimate Fighting Championship: I don’t give a flying crap where martial arts come from, the UFC is a great American institution. I was always bored with sports (like the Olympics) and never enjoyed playing or watching any until I experienced mixed martial arts in an octagon fence/cage. If you haven’t seen it and have a penis, please fix one or the other. That crap is the shit. Who doesn’t like insane men willingly (or unwillingly) jumping in a cage and beating the life blood out of each other? Pussies, that’s who, and pussies stink.

Suck it world.

Man on the Moon: Face it, it was a race, to the moon, and we won. I don’t care if the USSR cloned a dinosaur/minotaur beast and puts a damn army of them on the moon, we still got a man there first, and that’s damn cool. Next race, put a man on the sun. If any country can beat us there Niel Armstrong will look like Pauly Shore if he hadn’t made Biodome. (You know that shit was funny, don’t even lie. Unless you never smoked weed, and then it probably wasn’t funny, but that’s your own fault not his)

Porn: After a lengthy break from blogging I’m back to report the ol’ USA produces more porn than any other country on earth. (I didn’t happen across any provable facts during my break, so sue me) If Faith up there can’t give you a few great reasons why porn is awesome, then I sure as hell can’t explain it in a way you will understand. If that is the case think of it like physics, and then just understand I’m pretty much Einstein when it comes to this topic. (That’s why I’m on the internet instead of out there in real life somewhere.)

Anheuser-Bush: The number one seller of beer on the planet. Sure there are a lot of other companies and countries that make much better beer, but that doesn’t change a thing. They actually are the king of beers. For all you beer snobs out there, there’s a reason such watery swill is dominating the planet. Poor people like drinking too, and for the price they actually deliver a good quality beverage. Also a little known fact about Budweiser for all you Heineken fans out there: if you accidentally leave a Budweiser under your car seat in the middle of the dog days of summer for three days and it doesn’t explode from the heat, it tastes exactly like Heineken. It’s probably not safe to drink, but I did once and it was delicious once I got it chilled down.

As you can see America has a lot of great things I enjoy, unfortunately none of them are on the Olympics. While it is true that one great thing about our country is that everyone except the Tea Party people usually make room for other folks to enjoy things they don’t support, the fact remains that the Olympic Games are exactly like the state of the union address, no matter how important it’s supposed to be, it’s still not as good as the regularly scheduled programming. That’s what highlight reels are for.

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“Fishing” on Topsail Island

Well me and my buddies from work decided we needed to take a guys trip out to the beach to go fishing. We planned it for two months, got everything set up, and before you knew it the day had come to get ready. My good buddy Kenny who had taken me fishing on the Neuse river a little while ago (here) would be driving us, but since he’s married with children now, we couldn’t drink at his house. Everyone else decided that was lame as shit, so we all went out to my boss’s trailer in Smithfield. For those of you not familiar with the Johnston county area, that’s what you might call the ass end of nowhere.

I had driven my scooter to work that morning with one hand, carrying my biggest cooler in my left hand out to my side the whole way, cause I hadn’t really planned any better way to get a giant cooler to work on a scooter. That worked out well for me though cause all I had to tote out to the country on my death machine that evening was a folding chair, a case of beer, and a bag of clothes and supplies for the weekend. (which still left me looking a lot like a pack mule)

Now you have to understand, the ride from Garner to the back side of Smithfield on a scooter that only goes 30-35 mph is a long, bumpy, and hazardous one. The winding country roads, especially on a Friday afternoon, are filled with angry, potential drunk rednecks in a big hurry to get home and have fun. (it’s a fun county) But this means I have to straddle the side of the road for dear life the whole way there. Often I found myself attempting to ride the six inches between the painted line and the edge of the pavement, my feet being rhythmicly slapped by the tall grass, occasionally dodging stray tree limbs and dead possums. But with the prize of a weekend of booze and bars, bikinis and surf, I kept on the hour long ride until I found myself barreling down a rutted dirt path winding between trailers and a pond, and finally pulled up to Drew’s house.

Now Lee, the oldest guy on the trip, was already well lit, and was polishing off his first twelve pack of the evening. I got to meet Drew’s retarded brother, his little baby grandchild, and a fair number of his woman’s family, who were visiting from West Virginia. Let me tell you, those are some wide open broads, cause every one from the youngest who was about my age, all the way up to the ancient grandmother who had to be pushin seventy five, all cussed like sailors, had filthy minds, and actually had more sass and attitude than I do. Let me assure you it is very rare to find one, let alone four or five women, who can give my motor mouth and vulgarity a run for it’s money, but these kick ass bitches left me in the dust wondering what had just happened. But I will tell you more about them some other time. They invited me out to their family reunion to meet the whole clan, so hopefully I’ll have some really badass stories to share with you then.

But two cases of beer later, Lee, Drew, and myself were all drunk as hell and hit the sack around midnight or so. Dark and early at four fifteen Kenny came a knockin’ on the door, wraslin’ us all out of our deep sleeps, and we packed up his truck, loaded in, and hit the highways headed for Topsail Island. Of course Lee and Drew, the old men, wanted to go back to sleep, and Kenny and I were ready to party like it was 1999! So he threw on some old David Allen Co. and some Johnny Rebel and blasted it as loud as it would go until they finally woke up about half way there.

We got to the Jolly Roger Hotel and Pier around six thirty, before the sun was up yet, and we couldn’t check in till around noon, so we packed our crap in the cab and hit the pier for some good old fashioned Man vs Nature. Beer’s were cracked, lines were cast, and we settled in for the less intense part of the trip. A front was moving in so we didn’t get much sun, but the wind whipped the ocean spray up past us and the smells of a thousand fish and fish ghosts wafted in the breeze.

Lee onthe left, Drew on the right (with his queer juice)
Lee on the left, Drew on the right (with his queer juice)
The Jolly Roger pier just before dawn.

The Jolly Roger pier just before dawn.

I rock so hard it hurts. Also, I didnt realize that glow in the dark skeletons shirts were not as cool as camo when you are fishing. My bad.

I rock so hard it hurts. Also, I didn't realize that glow in the dark skeletons shirts were not as cool as camo when you are fishing. My bad. Apparently real fisherman wear camo shirts and hats to hide from the fish.

Well it turns out there are not only no fish in the ocean, but there are also hardly any women on the beach. It was rather disappointing. Later that evening as I was laying in the motel bed I described it, “that was fishing kind of like this is getting laid. I was in the right place but nothing was going on.” In fact, there were hardly any seagulls either. In fact I see more seagulls in the Walmart parking lot on a regular basis than there were on that beach. Bad bad Leroy Brown caught the biggest fish of the day.

Were gonna need a smaller boat.

We're gonna need a smaller boat.

Under the pier, Topsail, NC.

Under the pier, Topsail, NC.

So drew and I ended up getting wicked hungover, and took a nap while Kenny fished and Lee drank. But we all woke up around seven to go out drinking for real this time. It’s kind of weird meeting your girlfriend on your blog because it kind of makes you edit your stories so as not to get in trouble. But this was an especially wild night and I think it needs to be told. (Don’t be mad baby, I can’t help it that I attract fun) There was a little grill and bar across the road, which also happened to be the only bar on the island. We had stopped in for some lunch because the sign said they had the best pizza on the island. Surprisingly they sure did, it was some of the best food I have ever slid down my gullet. I had some pizza and later a steak and cheese sub, and both were incredible.

So we rolled up in the bar side of this joint to check it out. There were two pool tables, a jukebok, two tables and a bar. It was a fairly typical ocean side dive bar. No AC, no fans, just a bunch of open windows around a dimly lit room full of smoke with a few sad looking old people hanging around as if waiting for Jesus to take them, and a crabby, overweight, college age bartender. The sign on the door said it was raggae night, but at the moment it was library-in-the-vatican quiet in there. That immediately went as soon as we walked in.

Now you know me, I get a little wild from time to time, as evidenced by my legal record. Well Kenny and Drew both worked as bartenders in that honkytonk I went to. Drew and Lee are both bikers. Lee’s a crazy alcoholic who was already almost blacked out by this point. And every single one of us is looking to cause as much ruckus and mayhem as possible that night. Kenny jumps on the jukebox and throws on a bunch of Disturbed, and a variety of eighties metal. Drew grabs a pool table and racks up, and we all get started playing some pool.

Well Kenny is an amazing pool player, and Drew plays in tournaments every week, and Lee picked up at least a respectable amount of skill over his many many years on this earth, but I however suck realy bad at pool. I mean I don’t just suck a little, I suck so bad it creates a breeze in the room. I really enjoy playing pool, but I’m terrible and I know it. That’s no problem though, because they used me to make them look a little less badass, and as people started trickling slowly into this sad little bar they began fleecing them for all they were worth. Within an hour we had a table full of mixed drinks bough in lost games, and we were all well on our way to hedonistic debauchery.

With the exception of a few of the braver and younger men, everyone else in the bar was huddled as far away from our table as possible. It was almost comical. We were shouting and cheersing and singing at the top of our lungs, jumping around like wild men. We must have been the liveliest thing that has hit that town since hurrican Fran. A few hippies came in to check out the raggae, saw us, heard the metal, and promptly left.

Now by now Lee was rip roaring drunk off his ass. If he hadn’t been holding on to that table he probably would have fallen off the planet. So Kenny comes up to me and tells me, “HEY MAN, I THINK LEE HAS AN ADMIRER!” Confused I look around as to who has been paying Lee any attention. “CHECK OUT THAT OLD MAN AT THE BAR, THE ONE WEARING JIM DANGLE SHORTS. EVERY TIME LEE GOES TO DANCING HE GETS A BIG ASS SMILE ON HIS FACE AND STARTS DANCING TOO.” I broke out laughing, cause I had seen this fag sitting up there by the bar, and had found him comical enough already, but that took the cake. Well to make matters worse, a few minutes later Lee called me over. “JOSH! JOSH! COME HERE MAN. HEY, HEY … UH HEY CHECK THIS OUT MAN. I DON’T KNOW IF YOU KNOW THIS BUT THER ARE SOME DUDES WHO LIKE DUDES IN HERE MAN! NO KIDDING, I JUST HAD TWO OF THEM COME UP TO ME IN THE LAST FIFTEEN MINUTES.” To say I laughed would be an understatement. I had to go to the bathroom cause I laughed so hard. And by the way, apparently dive bars at the beach carry single ply toilet paper that is rough enough to literally cut your cornhole, so watch you self if you end up there.

Shortly before the raggae mon came out, this crazy bitch named Esch walked into the bar. Earlier at lunch she had been with her boyfriend, but now she was alone, and drunker than all hell. I saw the shark fins pop up around the bar, along to the theme of Jaws. Drew just happened to be right next to the stool she plopped down at. Now Drew may be a little rough around the edges, but that man is a huge charmer and no woman can resist him, it’s insane. Skip ahead two minutes and the wildest woman at the beach is playing pool with the wildest dudes at the beach.

I wasnt allowed to take many pictures during this part of the trip.

I wasn't allowed to take many pictures during this part of the trip.

She was on a team with Drew against me and Kenny. (cause I was apparently the closest thing to a bitch team mate for Kenny, insert my sincere laughter here) The testosterone started flowing, plenty of shit was talked, and before long, this bitch had her titties out distracting Kenny so he would stop kicking their ass. All the old people at the bar started getting pissed cause we were helping her get drunk and they all thought she was preggers. She was in fact not with child, she just had a little belly and a shirt that was poofy around the mid section, but we thought it was funny as hell. So she keeps getting wilder and wilder, and we keep thinking it’s funnier and funnier. She was (we think) pissed at her man and out to have some revenge, so she was trying her damndest to hook up with Kenny or Drew, neither one of whom wanted to bang her. They just wanted to have some fun, and didn’t give a fuck about her.

Lee on the other hand, who is 52 and single, and drunk, saw a twenty something hottie who wanted some action and began spitting his best game. In case you were wondering, his best game was horrible and offensive, but this chick was too drunk and stupid to care. Somehow it came out that one of the guys with us had a shaved dick, and at the top of her lungs Esch yelled, “drop your pants! If you shave I will suck your dick right now!” This was the second time in the evening the law was called on us. The bartender told us all to simmer down and stop making trouble. Esch started kissing random guys. I went outside to try and avoid getting arrested if they showed up again, and that was when Lee spit out this fucking gem. “Bitch, you better take four days, cause I will K. I. L. L. kill you. I won’t even bother unless you have four fucking days for me to fuck you to death.”

At this point the old women at the bar pulled the chick outside to get her away from us, and we all went back to the table to ask Lee what the fuck he was thinking exactly when he decided to communicate threats. We began gathering our shit up to leave, and Lee walked back over to Esch and the two old cock blockers with her and said, and I quote, “I’ve been with three women before, you could be the next three if you want. I’ll stick my dick in all three of your mouths!”

We dragged him out of the bar, stuck him in the hotel room, and told him if he left we would kick his ass. We hopped a taxi and headed to the next closest pair of bars. They sucked. We left and went back around closing time. Apparently the only fun to be had was in the deadest bar I’ve ever been in. We left for home the next morning and stopped for breakfast, some supplies, and then hit a tourist trap. What can I say, any building that has a giant gator on the front is cool with me.

I loves teh gatorz.

I loves teh gatorz.

I wish I knew how they made this, cause it rocks.

I wish I knew how they made this, cause it rocks.

I got a ton of things I shouldn’t have. By the time I left I had a slingshot, a pirate flag, a beer bong, two real gator heads, and a drivers liscence that says I’m Jesus. All in all a wild time was had by all, no one ended up arrested, or in the hospital, or cheated on their women, so I think it was a good trip. I’ve got some great stories about bosses being fired, upcoming halloween, and plenty of mayhem and madness, but for now I’m off to Mule Days in Benson, which is kind of like the redneck mardi gras around these parts. Tell me about your crazy stories from the beach, I’d love to hear some more.

The New World Order Games

So you know that one topic every blogger everywhere has complained about at least once? I know you do, the dreaded “too busy to blog for a while” syndrome. I gots it. Or I has’d it, whatever, I’m not an English major OK? I’ve had a wicked case of real life distractions keeping me busy. And not even cool ones like partying a lot over the Labor day weekend (sike) but more like really ass-chappy ones such as working overitime way too much and keeping up with one’s own personal responsibilities like laundry, cleaning, studies, and porn. Although the porn wasn’t really ass-chappy for me so much as all those lovely ladies in the adult entertainment industry.

adsfafsfd

I'll take some of that vice now Mrs. Palin

Sadly enough, even having been retardedly busy, and not being able to be the total web addict, stat-whore, ass-sitter-onner I’ve dreamt of being since those days of yore when I was supposed to be paying attention in Sunday school, I’ve still had time to get really annoyed with everything going on in the world. I’m not even talking about politics people. (Although I will say that milf from Alaska who looks like Tina Fey needs to seriously think of running for Vice President of my balls, cause even if she’s spitting out retards she’s still hot as hell, and if this wasn’t already a run on sentence wildly out of control I’d fit in some oval office joke, but you get my drift) The thing that’s been giving me nervous ticks every time I turn on the television is the friggin Olympics.

With their retarded costumes, five dumb circles printed on everything, and idiotic location. Grrrrrrrrrrr! I hate the Olympics. OK, hate is a strong word. I find the Olympics boring as hell and irrelevant, and wish they would stop taking over every channel on television and the entire internet once every two years. I mean they are over and they’re still all over everything. Could they not find a shittier place to hold them than Beijing? Was Chernobyl taken? What about Skull island? On second thought, that would kind of rock, but that’s not the point. China sucks, there, I said it. Nobody moves to China, cause it’s a shitty place to live. It’s smoggy, and evil empirey, and chock full of SARS, and bird flu, and three foot women shouting the shrillest language on earth at the top of their lungs as if completely incapable of comprehending inside voices with their eastern logic. That’s why there are Chinese food restaurants on every block in the Western world, because anyone with any skill whatsoever gets out as soon as they can.

Any skill that is besides training their twelve year old daughters to flip around like fruity ninjas with hula hoops and jump ropes. (and making our toys of course) Good lord, I had to watch about thirty minutes of one of those gymnastics events where they randomly bust moves around this big ass padded square holding random objects. I mean throwing a hula hoop up to the ceiling and catching it is cool, but I did that in friggin middle school, albiet poorly, and I just don’t consider it a real sport. I’m sorry. It’s not. Not even if you’re wearing a flamboyant onesie with feathers and scale-looking-sequin patterns.

This is a circus act, not a sport.

This is a circus act, not a sport.

Many of the events weren’t actually sports in my opinion. Anything with a judge for instance. Jumping real far or high, that’s a sport. Running or swimming real fast is a sport. I would say fighting is a sport, but I don’t like judges to be involved in who wins. Hurling things real far, meh, alright I’ll give it to you. lifting heavy things, sure. But not twirling ribbons or swinging around on bars. That’s bull shit. Diving is total crap. Water polo is a sport, but it’s so dumb that nobody cares. Simply being difficult doesn’t make something an Olympic event in my opinion.

So I got to thinking, what should be in the Olympics. What would I want to see. I mean, surely if we’re going to include dumb shit that’s judged on opinion, then we can come up with more interesting events than gymnastics! Here’s how the Olympics would go down if I were in charge:

First of all hold them somewhere cooler, like Vegas, or Amsterdam. Or have them all in a haunted mental hospital, like the one they filmed the House on Haunted Hill in. (the remake) Second, less retarded unitards, more topless ladies! And not the Chinese twelve year olds or those hairy, mannish, fanged boner killers from Eastern Europe. I’m thinking more along the lines of at least the women’s volleyball teams. I mean that sport is already basically Olympic camel toe. And if we can’t find super hot chicks to play on the teams, then they have to bring buxom, morally bankrupt college coeds from their respective countries to act as ring girls for each event. While I’m on it, Olympic pole dancing sounds pretty cool. Or take it one step farther and have Olympic kegels and Olympic bukake.

In the Olympics, you get pumped full of Astroglide, and these are made of lead.

In the Olympics, you get pumped full of Astroglide, and these are made of lead.

Beer should be a main focus of the games. Nothing brings a bunch of random strangers from all over the world together quite like booze. Beer pong would be an obvious choice, as well as quarters, chugging, keg stands, and bar top wet t-shirt contests. In fact, a lot of games would be a lot cooler if a certain chemical level were manditory before every event. I’m talking drunken bowling, beer chugging track relays, and drunken javelin. Make that javelin catching. Or how about an even where you have to get really high and watch Grandma’s Boy without laughing. Greco Roman wrestling is way too homoerotic, let’s change that to alligator wrestling and thumb wrestling.

There should be some sort of giant robot fights, although Japan would clearly be the winner. It would just be cool to see what kind of crazy shit they can build when they put their minds to it. And in the same veign of violent sports, in celebration if China shitting all over that hippie country witht he llama, there should be Olympic protestor ass-kicking. (that would be professional MMA fighters kicking protesters asses, not the other way around) Perhaps even cage fighting with bears, or gorillas, or midgets. In fact, take all the protestors, not just from the Olympics but in general, and have them all duke it out gladiator style in melee death matches with animals and robots and boobie traps all combined. There would be no medals, but I think everyone would win that event.

Competitive eating should be in the Olympics. I know it’s horribly gluttonous and disgusting, but I love it. In fact, there should be an Olympic comittee to have an entire series of new games designed for the seven deadly sins. Sloth would be challenging to make interesting for viewers, but lust would totally make up for it. (back to my competitive bukake idea) Wrath could be a demolition derby, I enjoy those. Maybe with monster trucks instead of normal junked cars. Greed could just be reruns of the price is right. (with Drew, not Bob, he sucked and annoyed me with his stupid microphone) Envy could just be the rest of the world player hating America like they already do. (oooooooh! Snap! Sick burn!) (not really) So we would lose Envy, but clearly win in Pride. (Too bad jack-assery or political ineptitude aren’t cardinal sins, we’re pretty good a those too)

Like this but with fireworks for the crowd to shoot at the arena.

Like this but with fireworks for the crowd to shoot at the arena.

And then at the end everyone would just build a fake city and film it being blown up along side a montage of the best looking women from around the world dancing to Girls, Girls, Girls by Motley Crue, cause what’s cooler than TNT with T&A. Now that could be on every channel without pissing me off. USA baby! Bring on the pointless global regionalism!

PS – Go to hell Wheaties, you taste like shit.

I’m braindead, so here’s a meme.

Due to a combination of lacking in sleep, spending all my last week with my visiting relatives, (most of whom aren’t that bad, or are actually awesome) and working all day in the turn-that-sun-down heat, I have absolutely no creative energy. Plus, I don’t really have much time for blogging lately, especially now, seeing as I already have six hours till I’m supposed to be getting out of bed to continue supporting my cocaine and hooker addictions with my so called job. (which I actually like, but not as much as I like bitching about it) So instead of anything requiring thought, or effort, here’s a meme I found whilst browsing through Praying to Darwin. Go check out Ginny’s blog there, she seems pretty cool, and hopefully is praying that Darwin will evolve me giant bat wings and a bigger wiener.

Basically you answer 12 questions, type the answers into Flickr, and pick your favorite result on the first page of your query, then use those pictures to make a mosaic. It’s easy and quick, all you need is internet access, which clearly you already have, and windows paint, or whatever they use to do simple copy and pasting crap on a Mac. (probably named something retarded and unrelated to what it does, and filled with counter-intuitive buttons and shit, cause that’s how apple rolls) (no offense to you Apple whores) Then you have the internet’s portrait of what you look like as a twelve question Flickr search, that is to say, not really what you look likeat all, but possibly interesting anyway. The twelve questions are as follows:

  1. What is your first name?

  2. What is your favorite food?

  3. What high school did you attend?

  4. What is your favorite color?

  5. Who is your celebrity crush?

  6. What is your favorite drink?

  7. Where would you go on your dream vacation?

  8. What is your favorite desert?

  9. What do you want to be when you grow up?

  10. What do you love most in life?

  11. Choose one word to describe you.

  12. Your blog’s name?

So now that you’re all rearing to know what I look like naked, and by naked I mean naked except wearing a mosaic, here goes nothing.

Apparently Flickr search has little or no relevance to anything you are actually searching for, unless that something is random crap. So here’s what it all means, for those of you who haven’t memorized the tags for every picture on the internet, and therefore clearly know just exactly who I am and what I’m about now.

1) My name: Josh, but that will be Mr. Lounge to you.

2) Favorite food: That would be north Carolina style barbecue, shown here with mac-n-cheese, greens, and fried chicken. Now that’s all good and all, but if you want the real experience, you need the NC style bbq, some mashed or baked potatoes, some fried chicken, hush puppies, slaw, and baked beans. If it’s available it doesn’t hurt to have some potato salad, some macaroni salad, some actual salad, biscuits with jam or jelly and butter, lima beans, and pecan pie for desert, with sweet tea to wash it all down of course.

3) Apparently no one from my high school has ever posted any pictures of it, at all. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who hated that place, but anyway, I did find an Asian man taking a bath, which might have been slightly preferable to what I actually went through while attending high school. (maybe not, the discovery of recreational drugs was pretty fun, and there were some fine/slutty girls prancing around)

4) My favorite color is green which also happens to be the color of old Asian ladies with nose rings, according to the internet and it’s peculiar logic.

5) Ok, I can’t pick one celebrity crush. I have crushed many, many celebrities in my time. Everyone from John Holmes to Brad Pitt. So when I couldn’t pick just one, I thought about what celebrity I would have the most fun with if I were allowed to have an hour or two of guilt free, wildly inappropriate, (and possible criminal against nature and God) sexual intercourse with. There were a couple of close ones, but they lost in the end. For instance it turns out that it doesn’t matter how great your body is, once you’ve done the dirty with Billy Bob Thornton your vagina is an erection killer. So I picked Vida Guerra. She’s not only one of the hottest women ever, and better endowed than the virgin Mary herself, but she’s also not famous enough for me to know who she’s slept with before my fantasy romp.

6) Beer is my favorite drink. This picture had nothing to do with beer, but they did suggest that if you are trying British cuisine and you want to deep fry a guinea pig, that you beer batter it first. And now I want to try it.

7) Ok I cheated on this one. The reason being is that, my dream vacation would be to go to Toronto to see Emerald, my woman. On the very first result page, they actually had a satellite picture of the neighborhood she lives in, or general area I suppose, I’m still a bit shaky on how big their neighborhoods are. But I could so see her house in it. Then it turns out it was a .gif file and not a flippin .jpg file, so long story short, I just jumped on Google earth and without actually showing her exact location, showed a satellite view of the most famous thing near her, the University of Toronto campus, and whatever else is around it. Again, I haven’t been there, so I don’t really know. Also, it might be called something else besides the University of Toronto, but I don’t care to look it up, cause I’m tired, and that sounds right. Anyway, fuck Amsterdam, I want to go to Toronto.

8 ) My favorite dessert is chocolate covered pretzels, hands down. I like cheese cake. I like German chocolate cake. I like baklava, and flan, and Turkish delight. But I’m telling you, sex with Vida Guerra would have to wait till I was done with my damn pretzels. Especially if that chocolate is white, the best of all kinds of chocolate.

9) Well, I wanted to be a graphic designer until this post when I changed my mind to an alien x-ray. Again, Google is in the clear lead here with accurate search results.

10) I love Emerald most in life. This picture was dumb, but not as dumb as the others.

11) One word to describe me would be snarky. Another word would be confused as to why pictures of strippers in demotivational pictures keep coming up when I search for snarky. Apparently a lot of people think demotivational posters are snarky, along with one thirty something woman who labels every single picture of herself as snarky, and what appeared to be a black, tranny, hooker getting drunk on the curb with Jack Daniels. I so would have gone with that picture, but it was in the wrong format again. Gay ass computers.

12) My blogs name. Wow. I didn’t actually read any of the information about this picture, cause it appeared to be by some faggy art douche who thinks everyone cares about his little drawings as much as they care about my awesomely interesting meme post. There was another picture of five little girls dressed alike skipping through a garden, which really delighted some part of me inside that wishes they really were sprinting to hell, but I liked this chicken like dinosaur about to devour it’s helpless prey even more. If only the dino was stalking little girls it would have been perfect.