Quarter Life Crisis

planet earth...

2008-11-27T13:14:00.000-08:00

im sure many of you have viewed the epic dvd box set known as planet earth. im curious as to whether upon the production of this cinematic marvel they took into the consideration of the direct effect the ownership of this set of dvds would have on the avid cannabis smokers of the world. "hmmm, how can i possibly make this bongload better? ice cubes in the bong. check. bag of smoked almonds. check. another half eighth of that club shit you bought off that guy you normally dont buy from cuz he always makes you hang out and watch some form of martial arts film and then you kind of sense that he knows youre lying to him when you tell him youre suppose to have dinner with your in-laws. (i kind of feel bad, but hes got the coolest names for his weed. do i desire to smoke something named "zanzibar rabbit", or "eye of the storm"? fuck and yes). check. arizona sweet iced tea tall can. check. hmmm, i feel like im missing something here. oh, 22 hours of the raw, indifferent and godless bitch known as mother nature at its best. check.

planet earth is a brilliant way to spend hours of fogging your braincells with some of the most brutal concepts of nature. it really gets you thinking sometimes about what if.... what if my cushy life of binge drinking, constant flossing and laundry were switched around to resemble a life that more of a wildebeest. its a fucked up life let me tell you that much.

wildebeests- so there you are, middle of the night, parched with thirst, get out of bed to get a bottle of water. FUCK! your roomate hurries downstairs to the gruesome visual of you being mauled by the souless, hate factory that is the crocodile. make you think twice next time you get a drink of water. but we should all be looking over our shoulders at public drinking fountains anyhow.

caribou- this would be a pretty shitcock existence. youre out for your morning jog, you have that feeling that someone is watching you. you cautiously scan your neighborhood, dont see anything. keep jogging, aiming for that prime cardio rhythm your doctor told you to strive for because your heart was beginning to look like a bacon wrapped croissant. yet some primal instinct tells you something is afoot. you turn around, whats that in the distance? you can see something, just standing still. SHIT! motherfuckin timberwolf, no more than a quarter mile away. its possible hes just out for a jog as well, i mean it is a beautiful morning and he would have just attacked if he wanted to. right? you continue jogging constantly looking over your shoulder, you can tell the timberwolf is now jogging as well and gaining distance on you, but he does just appear to be at a slight jaunt even, you dont want to stereotype him, just because a furry, canine jaws of death is slowly closing a distance between you and him on your morning jog doesnt mean he has ill intentions. you make it home safely. but you certainly lock the door behind you and start peering out the windows for the next few hours. timberwolves are badass-vin diesel-motherfuckers that way. theyll fuck with you just for the sake of fucking with you. and to eat you.

elephant- man your tired. that commute from work is just brutal. all you want to do is get in a nice warm bath, blast some post rock at a nerve damaging volume and eat 42 pounds of vegetation. and you know what, you can do that. because your the biggest goddamn land walking mammal on the planet, no one fucks with you. but what the hell is this as you pull up the driveway!? HOLY TITWAD! a pride of lions is posted up in your driveway. they look haggard, maybe theyre just religious solicitors and want to convince me to marry my sister or something. that has to be it, they wouldnt be here to eat me, im an elephant, no one eats me. ill just casually walk by them and say hello. nope. now youre dying the most brutal of deaths. slowly being devoured by a pride of starving lions. oh, its slow and shitty and you probably have a heart attack before any entrails are being spilled everywhere. being caught off guard like that is a bitch, but mother nature is a coldhearted ex girlfriend who gave your old bandmate a blowjob on your birthday.

lake flies- want to teach kids why they should have safe sex? because if youre a lake fly and you get a girl pregnant you die! you fucking die! that will teach you to keep the bologna in the sandwich. and same thing with praying manti. "did you hear? tex got drunk at that party the other night and hooked up with that kind of sketchy broad. no, not that same girl, her roomate. well, they found him the next morning, head bitten clean off." thats fucked up business. tree frogs rape their mates and then peace out immediately afterwards. mother nature must read a lot of brett easton ellis.

seals- so theres that killer burrito stand across the street from your house, and you are famished. but youve heard stories of how dangerous crossing that busy street can be at certain hours. some have crossed over there never to be seen again. but damn, you can taste that red snapper chimichanga already. im sure its worth a shot. look both ways, seems to be safe. "this isnt so bad, clearly there is no car in sight, this lunch is as good as mine. i should also get a side of rice, the rice there is the ja..." FACED! the giant-godless-mecha-fuckfest-killing machine known as the great white shark has quickly and most intensely ended your life. sucks to be a seal sometimes. well, unless your those ones that can play the trumpet at sea world and shit, those ones have it pretty well.

snow geese- "honey! im going to the store to get food for our lovely 8 children". of course you dont tell her that youre also going to an adult bookstore to hit up a spank booth. but a man has urges and after mating season the mrs. never seems to want to do it anymore. "honey! you wouldnt believe who i bumped into at the... Honey! Sugar Slots! where are you!!!???" unfortunately your question is soon answered. there lies the mangled body of your beloved wife and your children are nowhere to be found. only one person would be sly enough to pull off this kind of massacre. the ruthless arctic fox. but thats how it works out in the wild, step out for some groceries and quick tug, come back to find your entire family murdered by the cunning arctic fox. and since snow geese mate for life youre pretty much fucked from here on out. have fun with that pointless existence dickteeth. somehwere mr. fox is dining on the bodies of your children, that should comfort you out in the tundra.

so there you have it. the cruel world outside our comfy living rooms. how does one exist out in the wild? especially with no access to pot?

who gets the kendo stick...

2008-11-14T15:00:00.000-08:00

welcome back to your weekly edition of passive aggresive violence towards all the little things in life. there's always the question of who/what is worthy of the this honorable stick beating. that leggy blonde you smiled at the crosswalk yesterday who didn't return the favor. you had broccoli in your teeth, you pissrope. she is not worthy of the beating, but your lack of oral hygiene certainly is. that sandwich you ordered the other day where the salami was dry and they put yellow mustard on instead of the dijon you clearly wrote down on your order. abso-pop tart-fucking-lutely. wear that inadequately prepared deli sando out with your hate welded kendo stick. so now that these biased lines are clearly drawn, let justice be served.

left hand turns- are you fucking kidding me? how is anyone suppose to travel in this world when left hand turns are hindering us from returning movies and obtaining coffee. there's certain streets i just completely avoid knowing that ill be sitting there with my head on a swivel praying that a loving god is initializing a red light 2 miles away. and there's always someone behind you geting irritated that you're too much of a yeast infection to shoot that gap inbetween suv's that would of resulted in massive vehicle carnage. would it be too much for you to install a stop light? four way stop? drawbridge? the real problem here is americas lack of flying cars. at least hummer is still manufacturing non-flying new vehicles. hawk fuckers.

ingrown pubic hairs- are you gay if you're a male who shaves his pubes? yes, yes you are. unless you're attempting to compensate for a very unimpressive penis, which i am. keeping the hedges trimmed adds 30% to your size. its fact. not medical fact but fact all the same. the issue though is ingrown hairs. they are the pain equivalent of placing your balls hot plate and smashing them with a croquet mallet while viewing zach braffs performance in "the ex". when it comes to sexy time with a lady its just a lost cause. is it a zit? a cyst? a boil? lets just call it what it really is, a "there's no chance in hell that this broad is going to give you head freckle". FACED! this kendo sticks for you ingrown pubic hair. grow outwards instead of inwards. stop copying my emotional growth. FACED! another kendo stick for charles grodin wasting his genius on the movie "the ex". you're better than that charlie. now go make beethoven 8.

halloween parties- my goodness you suck. its bad enough this pagan festival is celebrated with more enthiusiasm than some of the less renowned holidays like "arbor day" or "national drink a handle of gin and vomit in your neighbors driveway day". but its the costumes that kill me. why is it every girl uses this as an excuse to be a sexy "insert random character here". oh you're a sexy bumble bee? a sexy nurse? no, you're a slut who doesn't have the confidence to wear fitting clothes the other 364 days a year. why can't guys get away with this. hey, look at me! I'm a sexy rapist. I'm a sexy blow job recipient enthiusiast. what are you? I'm a sexy narcoleptic with obsessive compulsive disorder and no job. for some reason it doesn't work the same, and that's just sexist, not sexy. and when you're at a halloween party, odds are you're on a massive reeses peanut butter cup high and a flask of whiskey deep. my vision is already foggy so how am i suppose to know if the sexy girl scout I'm dancing with is even sexy? you don't. it can translate into an awkward november 1st when the sexy hooker you took home actually turns out to be a hooker. lets just hope shell accept payment in hersheys minatures and loose candy corn. i dressed up as a lebanese discotech owner. nothing sexy about that. FACED! to hell with you halloween, see you next year in my sexy condom costume you hen-dicked holiday.

happy kendo stick thursday kids!

i kind of need to get drunk enough to punch a woman...

2008-11-12T22:07:00.000-08:00

ever face this problem? i have the answer. its called taaka vodka.

the magic of unemployment is that it helps you explore the seedy underbelly of cheap alcohol. and there is nothing cheaper than taaka vodka. i mean third world country yearly income cheap. a half pint of this potion is $1.99 at the local corner store. don't bother trying to get this at a grocery store, there too proud for this devil water. only the sketchiest of bodegas will be carrying this. a whole 750 ml bottle is $5.99, and let me tell you, you will blacking out in no time. mix this shit with 99 cent watermelon arizona iced tea and youre in for the night of your night. now most people say vodka is a "queers" beverage, but you must own the hairiest set of prostitute choking balls to get down with this drink. majority of people say it tastes like nutrasweet added to rubbing alcohol. and 4 out of 5 poverty waged alcoholic minors can't be wrong. the problem with taaka is that you can drink it straight if needs be. when its ice cold it tastes like syrupy orgasms. when its room temp its still palatible and will have you falling down a flight of stairs in moments. it takes class to a new level. a buddy of mine has a "special" taaka martini recipe, it goes as follows:

taaka martini:

-1 pint glass
-6 ice cubes
-1 pint of taaka vodka
-2 olives

serve in the middle of a tuesday afternoon and text your ex-girlfriend.

I've tried it, its a can't miss recipe. few other clever taaka recipes I've invented that you can enjoy while downloading porn.

taaka white russian (aka, white christmas):

-1 highball glass (no ice)
-2 parts taaka vodka (room temp)
-1 part vanilla rice dream (room temp)

prepare upon waking up from hangover. drink while taking explosive 2 am jack in the box taco shits. be sure to not offer the girl in your bed one, because you dont remember her name.

first date punch:

-1/2 bottle of your favorite vitamin water
-fill remainder of bottle with taaka

nothing more nerve racking than a first date. what better way to calm the nerves than be sipping on a highly alcoholic beverage while learning a girls life story. you gotta get through that boring horseshit somehow. and she won't know the better, until you get home and can't get it up because you've been drinking bastard water all evening.

broad street blackeye:

-1 of the largest cups you have in your kitchen
-ice cube (optional)
-1 sparks alcoholic energy drink
-1 pint of taaka vodka
-splash of sprite
-splash of canadian mist whiskey

consume half. now show 3 hours late to a party with a blackeye and the loss of every and all motor skills. dance shirtless and be sure to fall every other song and scream at the dj about how awesome he is. wake up on floor of bedroom pantless with a vhs version of the 1993 robert redford classic "sneakers" playing on loop (sidney poitier is so badass).

taaka vodka; the classy drink for classy people who do classy things.

i definitely urge you to try this stuff. you won't be upset, but you might hate yourself.

see you tomorrow with the return of kendo stick thursday.

just when you thought it was safe...

2008-11-08T21:07:00.000-08:00

well, well, well.

its been a while comrades. you may ask where this asshole has been hibernating for the past 9 months. well, after the infamous brain malfunction i had in the winter of '08 i was ceremoniously laid off from my beloved accounting job. was i shocked? of course not, that place was bankrupt since the moment my under qualified ass walked in there. was the other 20% of the company that got laid off shocked?

other 20% of company- "didnt you see this coming tex? i mean, youre the one with all the financial information"

me- "bwahahahhahahahahahah. teeeeeehhheeeeeeee. (/wipes tear from right eye) bwahahhahahahah. ohohohohohohohoooo. whooooohahahah."

why was i laughing you ask? UNEMPLOYMENT MOTHERFUCKERS!!!

i knew what was coming to me. given the current financial situation what were the odds i was going to find another miserable accounting position? companies dont have any money to be accounted for. so i did what any red blooded american mid-20's cro magnon would do. accepted the fact i would be suckling the ripe, voluptuous, well shapen tit of california unemployment. upon emptying my desk under supervised gunpoint (assuming as to not steal any paperclips or finally taking that oh so desirable shit upon my supervisors desk) i two stepped out of the office forever straight to home. put on my beloved vintage brian downing angels jersey and strolled to the local bar and ordered the largest, most delicious glass of whiskey these lips have ever pounded. after that i rolled home, consumed a bottle of black label, a tombstone pizza and tried ordering a stripper off of craigslist. luckily (for i spent all my cash at the bar) i passed out before i could answer the returned call from what was suppose to be a 100 pound asian lady of the night appropriately named "lotus".

after that, i kind of lost the flame to write. i mean i wasnt getting paid to do it on someone elses time anymore. so what have i been doing to occupy my time? heres the short list: drinking, dancing, gambling, flossing, pornography viewing, dodger hating, walking, self indulging, napping, coughing, razor scootering, minor contributing, weapons grade plutonium manufacturing, laughing, erectile dysfunctioning, pouting, cobra vs. mongoose fighting, music writing, dinosaur slaying, mouth running, cutting, feverishly masturbating, not eating, party crashing, showering and farting on my sister.

its truly been a magical spring/summer/fall. but like all good things (breasts), the financial teet i have been nursing on for so long has grown dry and chapped. but luckily the result is the return of the blog that all 5 of you have come to cheer up your dickpunch days at your dickpunch jobs. whats to come you ask?
- the return of kendo stick thursday
- newer, cheaper and more vile alcohols and the effects they have
- my recent radio interview about my sexual deviancy
- disney characters i want to sleep with
- imagination cheeseburger (enticing just by the title isnt it?)
- and so much more...

its Quarter Life Crisis! now with less political savvy than ever!

who gets the kendo stick...

2008-01-24T18:06:00.000-08:00

well, i have a semi valid excuse for lack of updates this week. ive been in and out of the hospital battling would-be aneurysms, brain swelling, meningitis, polio, ice cream headache, belspalsy, tennis elbow, elephantitis of the nut sack and blindness (and by blindness i mean severe coolness). however, through the heavy intravenous rush of painkillers ive been receiving it was brought to my attention that it is indeed kendo stick thursday. so heres my hospital/amazing how pathetic health care in america/why isnt there a single hot asian nurse edition of "who gets the kendo stick"

my brain- what the fuck is your problem? you like swelling like my junk in 9th grade math class huh? you like causing me pain equivalent to dane cook stand up? if you werent so evolutionally well protected in my skull i would toss you in front of a handsome cab and let the horse poop on you. and you know what? i dont care if this is being written by you. you think youre so badass because you control every functioning part of my body. you god complex having cocksucker. if youre so damn cool how about you control your swelling and protein output. FACED! this kendo sticks for you panther-fucker.

the cat scan machine- you know why you suck? because when i was carted into to see you i thought you were a time machine. you had all these cool lights and were making all these bitchin noises like "zeeee", "zerdleooo" and "tookle". i was so stoked, i asked the nurse to turn the settings to December 25th 1986. that was the xmas i got my first star wars action figure. i was going to go into the past, unwrap the gift, look my father square in the eye and say "so, are you making it a point that i never get laid? get me a fucking football old man and teach me how to tackle and nail cheerleaders". but no, cat scan machine didnt do any of that shit. it just continued to make cool noises and mock my un-athletic brain. but before i even take the first kendo swipe at you, you heartless non time traveling, built by the lowest bidder, plastic dream raper, im taking a swipe at the technician operating this piece of shit. he was wearing a "drowning pool" shirt under his scrubs, drowning pool fucking swallows. and im shocked to see that they used the drowning pool classic, "let the bodies hit the floor" for the new RAMBO trailer. fuck, everyone and everything is getting the kendo stick in the cat scan room.

my spinal tap- i dont think pain matters anymore, because the spinal tap stole any pure or untainted thoughts i had left. a three inch needle into my fucking spine!!! then slowly let fluids drip out of said needle!!! from this day forward i will never get a boner while spooning a girl again.

various amounts of painkillers ive been on for the past few days- just kidding, i love you guys. if i wasnt already an alcoholic i would totally consider becoming a p-k junkie. no kendo stick for you. FACED! but jimmy fallon gets one for making me watch that stupid fucking TAXI movie in the hospital the other night.

nurse who i thought was hot- what?! a guy on a morphine drip cant ask you out on a date? oh, youre seeing someone? well where is he? im here, im flesh and blood. true most of my blood is leaking somewhere out of my ears and ill never be able to operate chopsticks again, but hey! im right here. what do you mean you cant accept a tip? youre the only decent looking nurse in this morgue. im not asking you to do anything against the rules. just sit here and talk with me. ill tell you all about my harry potter obsession and how i think the angels have a great chance of winning it all this year. no, no. you dont need to check on that guy, i havent heard him breathing for hours. now tell me your name. is that hungarian? why is everything sounding like an bjork song all the sudden? you stupid bitch, you increased that drip so that i would pass out and you could go back to saving lives other than halfway fulfilling one of my sick erotic fantasies. well if the room wasnt getting so dark so fast i would swing this kendo stick right across youre wannabe Florence Nightingale tit you silly coooo.........

happy kendo stick thursday kids. im going to get absolutely tanked on painkillers and 7-Up. wish me luck. cheers.

who gets the kendo stick...

2008-01-17T16:52:00.000-08:00

welcome to your thursday beatdown boys and girls. there's been an abundance of candidates worthy of the old kendo swipe to face this week; my supervisor as always, that cheeseburger that gave me heartburn, residents of massachusetss and so forth. so here are this weeks recipients of karmic justice in the form a wooden stick beating. prepare to get FACED! cock-wookies:

IT guy with shit eating grin- you've managed to do it yet again you verbal toilet.

me- why am i not getting any spam emails?

IT guy- i put *fart* a filter up so you won't get them *fart* anymore.

me- oh, thanks. (now i know his intentions were of the best, but spam email keeps me occupied. how else am i suppose to find out how much i could be saving on my long distance plan or what new miracle pill will cure prostate inflammation? besides, we all know that the road to hell is paved with "good intentions")

IT guy- no *fart* prob, what are *fart* friends for.

i could see the poo juice dripping down his chin through that smarmy smile. i think there's a video on the internet starring him titled "1 IT guy, 2 cups". what are friends for? friends drive you to the airport. friends buy you lapdances and jaeger shots on your birthday. friends offer to put their finger in your ass when your stressing out in the bathroom while experiencing your first bout of performance anxiety (i owe you one Paul). friends don't strip you of the only reason you check your email. FACED! this kendo sticks for you, you fucking ass-rat.

stall talking co worker- as talked about in the post below, i believe that you only get a good kendo stick blow to the knuckles. you FACED! yourself enough by accessorizing your shirt with that skunk-shit tail.

my urine- what the hell is your problem this week? you keep smelling like steamed vegetables. am i sleepwalking and eating broccoli patches at night? you should be smelling like you normally do, of coffee, jameson and self loathing induced erectile dysfunction. get it together pee. the last thing i want to do is kendo stick my own balls. i pay vietnamese hookers to do that for me.

the dude wearing the banana suit outside jamba juice who would not take "no" for an answer- look man, i don't want to try the new doucheberry smoothie. oh! you claim its really good? you like it? because i wanto to be just like you. i have a hard enough time getting laid, so i don't need to be talking to a 6 foot banana in broad daylight. it has a new vita-boost you swear by? well then, ill have the 16 oz. doucheberry smoothie, with a celibacy-boost and a shot of zero self respect. and what the hell, toss in one of those pretzels covered with total faggotry. you take debit cards right? the last kendo stick of the day is for you my struggling art history major.

when bathroom nightmares become reality...

2008-01-17T13:28:00.000-08:00

I'm blaming the faceless IRS and preparation of taxes on my lack of posts this week. I'm blaming my erupting asshole on 4 long islands and an empty stomach. earlier in the week my friend and i were talking about how miserable it is when a co-worker tries talking to you through the stall at work. completely innapropriate behavior in the workplace. that's my private time (albeit on the companys time), i don't come over to your house and ask how the day is going while you're fucking your wife/pet koala. but revenge was swift and sweet on this occasion.

setting: bathroom, 11:15 am. co-worker in next stall.

me: (furious long island iced tea crap {loud splashing noise})

co-worker: wow. that didn't sound healthy.

me: please don't speak to me when I'm taking a shit.

co-worker: jeez, sorry man. bad morning?

me: (silence)

co-worker: whatever.

i hurried out of the bathroom furious with the interuption of my bowel movement. plotting what path of revenge i would take. urinate in his coffee? stuff a dead hooker in trunk? swastika screen saver? but then i noticed the gods had already lightning bolted his monkey ass with the swift kendo stick of karma.

as i saw him walking back to his desk i noticed something on the back of shirt. i was overwhelmed with glee, for he had pulled the ultimate shit break mishap. there it was, as clear as day, big ol' skid mark on the lower portion of his tommy bahama short sleeved atrocity. obviously he was wiping in the standard upwards motion, must have dragged dookie from his own exhaust pipe and streaked it on his shirt. how long before he notices this? could be hours, could be all day, could be never. he'll be sniffing around constantly, wondering if he stepped in something, wondering if someone around him is cutting farts, etc.
now i know this has happened to the best of us at some point, for me personally it happened while i was shit faced, eating chili fries on the toilet at the johnny rockets in beverly hills. so i can sympathize with him. but, seeing how it is kendo stick thursday, ill let him figure it on his own.

friday lunch date with dean martin...

2008-01-12T02:54:00.000-08:00

its been a toothy blow job of aweek. so i figured who cheers me up more than my old friend dean martin. every now and then well grab lunch (a bottle of whiskey and an erotic massage). the following is how we passed yet another friday.

{setting: local cafe/dining establishment (with full service bar of course)}

me: so dino, what's new with you?

dino: who do i have to tell that I'm dean martin around here to get a drink?

{collectively pull out flasks and take pulls}

me: beats me dino, but ill tell you one thing, that hostess has got quite the dumpster on her.

dino: i hear ya daddy, I'd spend a nights earnings in atlantic city to get up in her old italian villa.

me: really? I'd probably just get piss drunk and tell her she's got a bangin' rack.

dino: there you go again you old so and so. just running your old flap trap, thinking your ol' charm and 3 inch dictator will get you some jane fonda ass.

me: well, if ill let anyone talk to me that way its you. you bing crosby wannabe cockchugger.

dino: well played bubbala. where in the name of red skelton is our waitress!?
{snaps fingers, flashes cock}

waitress: can i get you gentleman something to drink?

dino: well take a bottle of your most expensive gin, a top hat full of stuffed olives, a bottle of ten high for my miserably hung, would-be jew gentleman friend here and whatever red headed hostess who works here that is married.

waitress: excuse me sir?

dino: {begins singing 'everybody needs somebody' with a bottle of ketchup as a microphone}

waitress: oh! right away sir.

{all requests are promptly met}

me: i dunno dino? this firecrotched hostess doesnt seem to be lucille ball status.

dino: you can say that again daddy. I've seen more game on a marlon brandos boozongas than this red brick wall.

{red headed hostess walks away sobbing hysterically}

me: so what do you think about those patriots dino?

dino: ill tell you this much hep cat. i think that don shula cat has a got a real chance in this american football league racket.

me: don shula retired years ago you old croon-dog you.

dino: {breaks into own rendition of 'mambo italiano' (drinks immediately arrive)}

me: {consumes half bottle of ten high in one quaff} what was i saying? oh yeah, we should totally find some dime pieces to get down on tonight.

dino: {somehow engulfs entire bottle of gin and fornicates with non-lucille bal in her prime-waitress before either reaches the table} ill tell you what you old sunnvagun. joey bishop has some oriental broads over at his bungalow that will give you the "shanghai sundown" before we reach the wet bar.

me: I'm game

dino: the only problem is we would have to hang with joey bishop. ridin my coat tails for decades.

me: yeah. fuck that. {snorts other half bottle of ten high} what was is it like working with john wayne?

dino: don't let the stories fool you sonny boy. i could out drink the duke before happy hour hit, but I've never seen one man lose so many hands of black jack or eat so many humans and corned beef without remorse.

me: awesome. zach braff is a fag. hmm. where's our waitress?

dino: crappin out my 17th child in the breakroom i assume. what say you and me meet up with sammy jew jr. at the palms for some no-limits hooker hold em'?

me: can do. just let me run back into the office, masturbate in the bathroom on the clock and take a shit on my supervisors desk.

dino: already dropped a red fox size deuce-a-roo on fattys work station for ya cool cat.

me: you're the tits dino!

dino: i know, I'm dean martin, and you're my favorite drinking partner. now lets fly my bi-plane to sin city and tag team lauren bacall.

me: cash money daddy cats!!!

{collectively drink every bottle of liqour behind bar, plow all red headed waitresses and dino leaves gold brick and coupons to the golden nugget buffet at table}

yup, just another friday lunch break.

who gets the kendo stick...

2008-01-10T10:05:00.000-08:00

I'm not really a violent person. the two times i threw a punch in my life i ended up hurting my hand more than the victims face. that's why i stick to dropping elbows like real assholes do (ie: randy "macho man" savage). but this morning there is a shortage of coffee in the workplace and i feel like a sober dean martin. so i introduce you to the new weekly column, "who gets the kendo stick". for those of you not aware, a kendo stick is an eastern weapon normally referred to as a "shinai", "bamboo sword", "cane" or "fuck you up real good pole". the following people are in need of the kendo stick beatdown.

- obviously my supersivor gets the first beating. she's made smarmy comments to me in consecutive days. in exchange, i offer you a gift for your gross amount of disrespect. FACED BITCH! you get the first kendo stick beating, and it doesn't end with just you. oh yes, your husband, his pre-school teacher, your mailman, your cat, the cat next door that your cat has been fighting with at night, and whoever sold you your first big mac gets it as well.

- IT support guy. alright, there's a lot of reasons you should get one. perhaps because you whistle all day long and the only songs you know are "the star spangled banner" and "happy birthday". happy birthday? you're shitting me man. I'd presume you're a serial killer but i doubt that you are based upon the fact you wear scooby-doo themed ties with polo shirts. you also answer the majority of questions with "yeah baby" in an austin powers mock voice. and you're married, which means you're regularly having sex and I'm not. this kendo sticks for you asshole. and a second one is for your scrappy-doo necktie.

- Tech-Ops manager. strictly because everything that comes out of your mouth sounds like a fart through your shit eating grin. FACED BITCH! last kendo stick beating of the day.

oh? you need a description of how it tastes...

2008-01-08T16:39:00.001-08:00

between naps and 10 trips to the bathroom at work today, i was engaged in an online conversation with a buddy regarding how a certain alcoholic beverage tasted. he claimed it tasted like "rays of sunshine", i claimed it tasted like "unicorn orgasms". it got me thinking of how i would describe a few of the choicer scotch's on the market. welcome to what my pallate speaks:

Highland Park 18* tastes like:

- the day the SPICE channel forgot to scramble the station for 45 minutes
- the Angels winning the world series
- jimmy fallon getting hit by a bus

Macallan Cask Strength* tastes like:

- your first handjob
- seeing Blue Oyster Cult perform "don't fear the reaper" live
- a 92 pound asian girl with fake breasts

Bushmills 20 single malt* tastes like:

- wanting to break up with your girlfriend, only to find that she's cheating on you so you get to dump her AND make her feel guilty
- hearing the 2 greatest words in the english vocabulary, "Open Bar"
- nick nolte's roll in "the thin red line"

Knockando 15* tastes like:

- moving into a new apartment to realize the previous resident forgot to put in a change of address on his Playboy subscription
- clean blood work
- finding out "everybody loves raymond" got cancelled

Ardbeg 12* tastes like:

- the fall of communist china
- finding out its NOT your baby
- stumbling home drunk to your grandmas house and her making you a fried chicken dinner at 2am
- whatever erin andrews tastes like

Macallan 20* tastes like:

- the blinding light of god
- being in the middle of making a sandwich and realizing you've run out of jalepeno mustard. promptly throwing the knife, kicking the cat and wondering how you could of let such an atrocity happen. then realizing you bought an extra one at the market just the other day because only fucking tards run out of jalepeno mustard. retrieving knife, petting cat, completeing construction of said sandwich and devouring the sunnavabitch while watching "casino royale"
- bong rips during fellatio

St. Germaine* tastes like:

- when your neighbors house floats away in a flood but yours is ok and secretly you're glad it was that asshole and not you cuz seriously, how the fuck do you start over again when your house floats away down the river? (this description was offered by QLC's good friend William [wshowell.com])

Ten High* tastes like:

- finding out it IS your baby
- your supervisor taking a shit on your desk
- finding out someone ate the last of the smoked almonds
- smashing your junk in a sliding glass door
- whatever Oprah tastes like
- owl cock
- Dodgers baseball

I'm totally going to beat the shit out of Aladdin...

2008-01-04T11:15:00.000-08:00

you know why? besides his silly hat, cock-gypsy vest and hammer pants, he's got the lamp! and i need that lamp right now, i need that blue robin williams fucker to grant me three wishes pronto. actually, one wish is really all i need. this is all coming about because earlier in the day i somehow got the john mayer gay national anthem, "you're body is a wonderland" stuck in my head. before you pass judgement on me too quickly, the reason i know the words so well is because of the video for this anal probing song. the video of course features my wife-to-be, jennifer love hewitt. oh j-love, how i yearn for thy bosom. I've probably self satisfied myself to j-love as much as i have to the pool scene in "showgirls" and any part in smokey and the bandit where sally fields is smoking a cigarette. but the problem with masturbating to this video is the obvious fact that when I'm touching myself the last thing i need to hear is john mayers voice. the only thing that kills an erection faster than john mayer is syndicated reruns of everybody loves raymond (i personally hate raymond and wish polio upon him). but i learned that if i watch the video on mute, listen to Blue Oyster Cult's song "godzilla" and choke myself out with a bra i stole from my ex-girlfriend, then YOUR body becomes the wonderland. or another i suggest is watching a vhs version "can't hardly wait" and hit fast forward. every scene with j-love in that baby blue tube top on fast forward makes her breasts much more bouncy and playful than you ever imagined. also on fast forward you can avoid any painful donald faison moments. although the band name of "loveburger" in the movie is pretty awesome. so I'm making blue robin williams genie grant me the wish of 'jennifer love hewitt-tex'. i get her as my wife, and that's all i need. i would spend long afternoons brushing her hair and watching wrestlemania 6, she would cheer on hogan while i wear ultimate warrior facepaint. when the hulkster loses i would console my beautiful wife by orally pleasuring her through the second half of wrestlemania 3. and this i would not mind, because my beautiful wifes vagina tastes like Werthers Originals candies. we would go on long romantic walks to BevMo upon where she would purchase me a bathtub of Macallan 20. she will watch Schindlers List with me topless and we'll always laugh at the same parts. her farts sound like Chopins 8th overture, and smell like cookie dough ice cream. she would finance my sports gambling habit, thinking its cute that i bet on the angels to win every game. we would create a drinking game that involves Pogs and when we got shitfaced we would video tape ourselves making out and send copies of the tape to my ex'es, after that we would prank call zach braff and tell him what an anus-wreath he is. we would sexually roleplay in the bedroom, i would play the part of the suave, smooth talking bail-bondsman and her the part of the desperate housewife needing to get her sexually inadequate, accountant husband out of the clink for some white collared crime. she would show me how to beat Super Mario Bros. 2 (topless). we would name our many offspring after every character on M.A.S.H. we would solve rubiks cubes in the dark. we would get a joint checking account that only involves her money (she doesn't want me to work, only to drink and make wild babboon love to her). i adore my beautiful wife.

its going to be a pretty sweet deal. now all i have to do is fashion a board with a nail through it and find that camel sucking aladdin.

new year resolutions...

2008-01-02T20:02:00.001-08:00

what a crock of horseshit. resolutions are the comparison of going to a strip club and getting a lapdance from an asian stripper, yeah, they sound brilliant at first, but after a few minutes you're going to realize that you should of just ponied up the 20 extra dollars and gotten the handjob from that blonde you went to high school with. wait, that comparison makes no sense, but its good advice next time you're at a titty bar. new years is horse hockey to begin with, because you should realize by now that the first day of the new year always starts off the same, with the worst hangover you're going to have for the next 12 months. i spent mine watching shrek 2 with my parents drinking from a bottle of bushmills. at some point i woke my father up around 2:30 am, completely blitzed out of my skull and told him he owed me some viagra from when i loaned him some.

father- "its 2:30 in the morning! what do you need viagra for? is some broad coming over?"

me- "no, i just want erection to prove something to myself"

he was obviously pissed about the wake up and told me to go to bed. so i continued drinking and watched the walt disney classic "sleeping beauty". that movie is the jam. the chubby fairy godmother is going to get it from me something fierce if we ever cross paths.

someone at work asked me what my resolution was, i told them it was to get a new job. i realized i had just jinxed myself. i have never kept a resolution. so this year i decided to make resolutions that i can actually keep.

2008 RESOLUTIONS:
- show up 15 minutes late to work everyday

- only speak to my supervisor in the 3rd person

- drink an unholy amount every other night and justify it by saying, "well, i only drink every other night"

- tell girls at bars that for a living I'm a professional chess player

- only watch porn that is dated 1999 and previous

- listen to the same music I've been listening to since high school

- spend $25 a week on burritos

- bitch daily about what the Angels batting order will be this year

- never get laid

I'm pretty certain i can hold strong to these. but knowing me I'll probably become a mormon this year and get a nose ring. I'm unpredictable like that, and by unpredictable, i mean predictable and drunk.

still at work...

2007-12-31T18:33:00.000-08:00

yup, 6:35 pm on new years eve and I'm still grinding away. what? you think the 2007 state tax board uploads itself to the general ledger accounts?!?! well fuck you for thinking that, for that is not the case. i shall spend tonight the same way i spend every new years, drunk and alone masturbating with my own tears. in all reality i think my buddy and i are going to get fitted for our asshats (get drunk) and play around with a wetsaw. ill keep you all posted on our handy and unecessary tilework. have a safe but not sober new years. perhaps a post tomorrow about hangovers, resolutions and how i plan to take a shit on my supervisors desk.

post holiday hangover...

2007-12-28T15:33:00.000-08:00

but not the good kind of hangover. not the hangover where you wake up in bed wearing a bra and no pants next to an empty bottle of jameson and empty pack of cigarettes. more like the hangover of seeing family members and consuming chocolate truffles that you would ordinarily not eat unless you were high and they were strewn across an xmas tree shaped serving dish (which just so happened to be the case). I've also been fighting an illness which means antibiotics, which also means a lack of posts, which also means i haven't had a stiff drink in 5 days. ever gone 5 days without a scotch? oh, you have? well, you're probably not an alcoholic like i am. which means you're a coward when it comes to looking yourself in the mirror. either way, I'm going to attempt the bar scene sober this weekend. but i have a few ideas that should keep me entertained.

- wear a shirt that reads, "i don't want to be with you, i want to pee with you". I'm sure the fallout of that shirt alone should keep me busy.

- when someone asks what kind of music i listen to, respond with, "i only listen to instrumental prog-rock", then roll my eyes when they ask what that is. thus widening the canyon between me and the tolerance people have for me.

- speak to my supervisor only in the third person (this isn't really a weekend thing, but i just want to annoy the miserable bitch).

- tell a girl she has "assets". I'm predicting a follow up question like "excuse me?". then look her in the eye and walk away. this just seems like it will keep me entertained.

- scheme a blog post worth reading

be back on monday with "reverse new years resolutions". have a drunken weekend for me.

Ultimate Xmas...

2007-12-24T14:53:00.000-08:00

how did i become the guy who had to come into work on xmas eve? i could be working a crisp buzz right now but instead I'm finding creative ways to lace my shoes at work. so the following is what i expect my xmas day to look like:

- wake up around 11 am with ZERO hangover

- look down and realize my penis has grown 3 inches (i believe in xmas miracles)

- rip bong that is conveniently placed next to bed

- ride segway from bedroom to kitchen

- mother hands me comically oversized mug of irish coffee and and a plate of "reubens benedict" (this a new creation of mine, how do you make a reuben sandwich better? slather it in hollandaise and a poached egg. that's how)

- check text messages while consuming 3rd reuben benedict helping
TEXT FROM:
-george clooney: "drinks 2night?"
my reply: "maybe"

-george lucas: "can i brrow sum moneyz?"
my reply: "no :( "

-clint eastwood: "u r badazz"
my reply: "k"

-brianna banks: "can i S ur D?"
my reply: "word"

-ride segway to living room, open presents, gifts include :
- unrated dvd collectors edition of 'showgirls'
- bottle of highland park 18

-feeling overly satisfied with gifts, ride segway to bathroom, drop a 2 1/4 lb. deuce while freebasing a dish of smoked almonds

-rip bong

-listen to bing crosby's rendition of "christmas in kilarney", have mother pour me a pint glass of scotch and sing the chorus with me duet style

-collect call jon voight at home and inform him that he is a cock-gypsy

-have mother make me a prime rib sandwich

-check email
email #1: job offer from espn college gameday asking me to be the lead color analyst (need to think about it)

- rip bong (undecided on job offer)

email #2: every single one of my ex-girlfriends contact me to let me know that i was a sexual tyranosaur and no men can compare and that they all are considering becoming lesbians unless i contact them.
consider which ones i should call back.

-rip bong (forget what i was thinking about. something involving college football and lesbian dinosaurs. what do i know? I'm fucking baked! do i smell homemade enchiladas?!!??)

-ride segway to kitchen. i did smell enchiladas.

-eat entire casserole dish of enchiladas

-call up jo rowling to wish her a happy xmas:
me- happy xmas jo!
jo- happy xmas tex! you are my inspiration for everything, this months royalty check is in the mail.
me- word, hugs and kisses, gots to get drunk

-read on espn mobile that the Angels signed Tim Tebow to play third base

-take 1 hour nap next to fireplace with my dachsunds and a bottle of purple drank

-get awoken by burt reynolds and jd salinger dropping off their xmas gifts of pepperidge farm baskets (they both got me the deluxe summer sausage and mustard set ones, gotta love those guys)

-intravenously consume a bottle macallan cask strength scotch

-have an imaginary conversation with frank sinatra and compile a list a cock-gypsys that him and i intend to pistol whip

-dress up like santa and drunkenly ride around the neighborhood on my segway handing out limited edition wwf action figures in original packaging to all the small children.

-get home, watch die hard and have fourth helping of reubens benedict

-rip bong

have a merry xmas friends, i hope yours is as good as mine is going to be.

laundromat...

2007-12-21T17:12:00.000-08:00

ever wake up in the morning and struggle to find a clean pair of underwear or socks? ever begin grabbing pairs out of your hamper and start smelling them to see which ones let off the least offensive odor? ever worn a pair of underwear inside out thinking you were fucking MacGyver or what not? well then, its time to do your laundry scum-nut. i personally hate doing laundry. its time consuming, boring, repetitive but unfortunately necessary. just like taxes and oral sex. laundromats however really make me want punch myself in the neck. ever been to a public laundromat? its a combination between a parole hearing and a lepor colony. my first and only experience in one of these asylums truly scarred me. i needed to clean my bed comforter (the reason for this will be a whole other story) so i went to the nearest laundromat to remedy the situation. first step in the door was brutal enough. ever been in a room where there was multiple people with eye patches? yeah, disturbing. and apparantly i was going to be washing what i sleep with in the same machine that the Charles Manson lookalike was washing his soiled spank rags in. so i find a machine, insert a dollar worth of quarters and grab a seat. i was under the impression that laundromats were a good social theatre to meet women in. i probably believe this because I've viewed porn that took place in laundromats. and porn wouldn't lie to me. unfortunately at this point in my life i wasn't in the market for a lady with a "taz" shirt and three kids, a blonde with a hatchet face or one eyed wanda and her hairlip. seeing that this was no talent show i left and got a coffee. upon my return i noticed my washing machine ajar. fucker! where's my comforter?!? i scanned the room searching for the culprit. i didn't want to look directly in anyones eyes (or eye) fearing that i might turn to stone from one of these gargoyles. so i approached the register seeking to speak with customer service about the fiasco of my missing comforter. what i got instead was a very angry asian woman wearing what seemed to be a bathrobe. for some reason there was a lot of noise coming from the shut door behind her. i assumed the laundromat was a front for mongoose vs. cobra fights. that would of explained a lot more. anyways, the demon started yelling at me in broken english about my comforter being too big of load and whatnot. she handed me a completely soaked comforter and told me to not come back. "can i use a dryer?". "mao!". i took that as a no. she was making erratic motions with her tiny, vcr making, booger hooks and i decided that i may as well just cut my losses, which i did. that's my laundromat story. after that i just decided to get a girlfriend and make her do all my laundry. in closing i would like to remind the asian lady that i hate her godless, cambodian soul.

Stream of Thought...

2007-12-20T12:16:00.000-08:00

I'm in a zippy mood today, probably because I'm being fed sugars and various baked goods at work. this is just a splattering of brain matter on a cyber canvas.

- I'm sick of candy and cookies being brought into the workplace. why doesn't someone bring something good? i want to walk into the breakroom and see a catering tray of eggs benedict. not a basket of of rice krispy treats. oh, human resources has peanut brittle downstairs? I'm going to the IT department, i heard they have veal chops and braised parnsips.

- grandma mammy's non-alcoholic rumballs? I'm sorry co-worker, i will decline, would you care to try uncle evan's scotch cubes? they'll get you drunk, and its totally chill because its the holidays. (note to self: begin the patent process for "uncle evans scotch cubes")

- my supervisor eats corn chowder every morning at 9am. cream based soups are a privilege, not a right. "well i wanted to quit drinking so much coffee". i see, so instead a hot mug of clam chowder is what starts your day off. good luck living through the new year.

- greatest xmas movie:
Die Hard and Die Hard 2. now these may just be the two best movies period, they don't need a holiday label on them. if i had to choose between the two I'd have to go with the original. strictly for the fact you get to see boobs in it. either way you pick them you can't go wrong. "now i have a machine gun. ho, ho, ho".

- co worker: "evan, can i ask you a personal question?"
me: "nope"
I'm beginning to see why people at my job dislike me. I'm a total prick.

- my xmas list:
1. a bottle of highland park 18
2. erin andrews wearing nothing but a barry sanders lions football jersey, asking me to treat her ass like a bowl of vanilla ice cream. oh yeah, and she has a dish of smoked almonds. smoked almonds are the jam.
3. a box of uncle evan's scotch cubes
4. an attention span

- co worker: "evan, did you sign up for the company pot luck yet?"
me: "not yet, but its on my list of things to do, just before 'smash my thumbs in a car door' but after 'register to vote'."

- now i must allocate funds for county tax purposes. be back tomorrow with a post that is actually thought out.

The Poor Man's Kerosene

2007-12-18T14:30:00.000-08:00

i decided that it was worthy to do a tribute post to something that has had such a large hand in sculpting me into the person i am today. church? family? education? I'm talking about Ten High Unblended Bourbon Whiskey. an alcohol so frowned upon, the state of west virginia won't even sell it and they sell human flea collars (zing!). a whiskey so vile, not even John Wayne himself touched the shit. Ten High isn't even regarded as "bottom shelf", you normally have to ask your store clerk to go to the boiler room and look behind the slop bucket and soiled rags for a bottle of this snake oil. i tell you though, it is some good stuff, i use to be addicted to it. you can pick up a plastic handle of Ten High for about $9.99 (post-Vons club discount). how can you go wrong?

To best explain Ten High, think about that kid you had auto-shop with in high school. you'd go out on the weekends and always have a pretty decent time. yet somehow the night always ended up in an arrest, a donkey show or a back alley abortion. you still have his number, but you're wise enough these days not to use it.

The taste you ask? well i asked a few of my colleagues to do a taste test and here were the responses:
-"you're shitting me? this is diesel fuel. bolivian diesel fuel at that"

-"tastes like slavery"

-"holocaustlicious"

-"fuck! this tastes like shit!"

i prefer mine on the rocks, or if I'm really looking for a felony i can mix it with mountain dew and lose an appendage that way. i tried ordering it at a restaraunt once and the waitress looked at me as if i invited her to a bukkake party. its well frowned upon by most decent flora/fauna. but the real problem with Ten High is that it completely strips you of any rationalizations. you begin to act like a shaved koala(that's not really a comparison i just wanted to type "shaved koala" and hopefully your mental image of one is as funny as mine). for example, my cousin and i would get halfway through a handle while playing poker and anytime you had a hand with a "ten high" card, we would then go all in. see, exactly what a shaved koala would do in a poker game. so here's a list of things i have done/attempted under the influence of this most magical of elixirs.
- asked my roomate to punch me in the face
- engaged in a Wendy's double bacon cheeseburger eating contest
- declined the sexual advances of a girl because watching the Scott Bakula/Sinbad football classic "Necessary Rougness" (on vhs no less) seemed like the wiser choice
- bought a t-shirt at paul frank
- pushed my friend down a freeway offramp embankment
- attempted to operate a stationary bicycle
- lost a pinky toenail
- began pouring Ten High straight into my eyes believing it to be the "new way" to get drunk
- purchased more Ten High
- got fired from a job
- went home with a girl who at the time appeared to be Sally Fields circa Smokey and the Bandit (all time sexual fantasy by the way), only to realize in the morning she was actually the Nazgul
- attempted to add Slim Jims to pasta (not half bad actually)
- joined a 24 hour fitness
- got in a semi erotic kitchen floor fight that resulted in morningstar farms veggie sausage patties in my underwear
- decided to walk to work on my day off and ask my supervisor to give me a ride home because i was too drunk to walk (surprisingly not the same job that fired me thanks to Ten High)
- cleaned a carburetor with it
- asked a cop for a ride home
- re-enacted the final 20 minutes of "Platoon". myself playing the part of Tom Berenger, my coffee table the part of Charlie Sheen and the half eaten burrito on the counter doing an oscar-worthy performance of Willem Dafoe (even though he's not in the final 20 minutes of the film)

so there you have it, if you've never had the stuff i suggest you continue to live your untainted lives. if you insist on consuming it, use caution, i believe its filtered with Nevada silver mine well water. and if you pick up a handle anytime soon, please, call me up.

should have just politely nodded...

2007-12-15T16:29:00.000-08:00

here's how the situation played out:

co-worker- "morning aaron, working hard or hardly working?"

evan/not aaron/me- "suck it"

co-worker- "pardon?"

evan/not aaron/me- "uhhh, software kit. uhh, did you get the new software kit for the aeris billing system?"

co-worker- "actually yeah i did. are you in charge of those?"

evan/not aaron/me- "no, i believe mark is (i don't even know if there's a mark in the company)"

co-worker- "actually would you mind doing the set up report on that?"

evan/not aaron/me- "sure man" (goddamnit!!!!)

a hard lesson was learned. if i would have kept my anger to myself and accepted the fact that no one really knows my name i could be zoning out playing solitaire on my computer today instead of this most cruel of projects.

my san francisco weekend recap:
- haircut
- highland park 18 scotch is pretty much liquified construda. a real party in ones mouth and not everyones invited. only wealthy virgin debutantes and english premier league soccer players. the true A list of scotch flavor.
- triggered a mini riot in a carls jr. (people just don't like the look of me)

- three good quotes:
1. "ahh, come visit the haunted shores of morro bay"
2. "not having sex is the new getting laid"
3. "i want to have sex with a 5 year old boy wearing lipstick. dammit! i mean i want to have sex with my girlfriend"

a few lines I've said to girls that shockingly resulted in me not getting laid...

2007-12-15T16:27:00.001-08:00

- "would you like to go back to my place for some bong loads and watch jurassic park?"

- "i bet you wouldn't be able to fit in my jeans"

- "if you ask me, the promise ring is the greatest band of all time"

- "didn't i use to date your brother?"

- "i haven't read a book that didn't involve a boy wizard in 6 years"

- "can i get your social security number?"

top 10 list of most dangerous foods to eat while driving...

2007-12-15T16:24:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you've all been waiting by your computers patiently. so let us wait no longer.

1. hot wings- i personally have operated a vehicle while consuming hot wings. i know the dangers. people give me shit when they say i go to hooters strictly for chubby girls in tight clothing, they are only 99% correct. they really do have the best wings around. curbside pickup is brilliant, get a 20 piece to go, eat 5 wings slathered in ranch before you even leave the parking lot. eat another 5 on the ride home, hop a curb, hit 2 cats and rear end a bmw M5. truly delicious and dangerous times.
2. artichoke- now, I'm pretty sure I've seen my own mother do this in a car. to me artichokes require a lot of concentration. its one of those "a lot of work for little reward" type of foods. like prawns or sex. I'd like to see you explain to a CHP officer that you were speeding because you were trying to get that furry, undigestable crap off so you could eat the heart. don't be a prick. don't drive and eat artichokes.
3. crab legs- one of the many reasons i don't go into the ocean is because fish fart in it. they also shit in it. you know what a crab likes to eat? feces and discharge of various farting fish. but I'm sure there's some asshole right now, driving his trust-fund Bentley to palm springs, snacking on some alaskan king legs, a saucer of drawn butter in the cup holder, and a leggy blonde pouring him a Macallan 25 on the rocks. what an asshole! (not that I'm jealous or anything)
4. corn on the cob- I'm pretty sure i want to do this one some day. corn on the cob is delicious. especially when purchased at a county fair from a man who grows and makes it himself, but due to lack of dental insurance can't enjoy his own delicassy. plus, imagine driving down the freeway with your elbows operating the steering wheel, with that cob up to your grill like you were playing a harmonica. good visual.
5. fondue- i might actually try to market this myself as long as that butt-koala, ron popiel hasn't done it first. imagine a fondue pot that plugs into the cigarette lighter of your car. imagine the dangers of hauling ass down the 405 with a pot of boiling cheese at crotch level. dangerous. plus, those stupid fondue forks are dangerous enough as it is.
6. dim sum- hmmm lets see. chop sticks+meat filled steamed dumpling+dipping sauce+5 speed Honda Civic= DANGEROUS!!!. no wonder asians are such bad drivers. (zing!!!)
7. oysters on the half shell- now I'm a big fan of driving and eating sunflower seeds. but i once heard a rumor that spitting sunflower seeds out of a moving vehicle is a ticketable offense. so imagine sucking down a dozen oysters and tossing those shells out of the window. when the local PD pulls you over and sees lemon wedges and a bottle of tabasco sauce on your dashboard, he will have every right to pistol whip the ever loving shit out of you. ill probably back him up when he makes you pick up every single one of those shells you shucked out the window at gunpoint as well.
8. corned beef on rye (specifically the one from jerry's deli with the cole slaw and extra russian dressing on it)- it is a hard sandwich to get a grip on to begin with. but why not eat it in rush hour traffic? I've attempted to eat it in so many other situations: job interviews, during foreplay, great grandmothers funeral, VD tests, etc...
9. cobb salad- basically eating anything while driving that still requires a fork, automatically makes you a total douche. something about a cobb salad just makes me want to punch myself in the throat. bitches who order this with the mindset of, "oh, better have a light lunch, ill stick with the salad". yes a salad. you ass-smokers. a salad that consists of ranch dressing, 2 pounds of processed meat, half a side of bacon and those anal nuggets referred to as bleu cheese crumbles. those little crumble shits would get everywhere in the car. just order what you really want, 3 pints of clarified butter. it would be safer to operate a vehicle anyhow.
10. brie and crackers- sweet jehovah! do i ever love brie and crackers. its like the classy version of a lunchable. all of that melty, mild flavored goodness, with some spreadable fruit piled high on a crispy carbohydrate round. but would i eat it while trying to find parking in san francisco? probably not the safest idea. plus if i had to explain to a Metro officer that i ran a red light because i was spreading preserves on a Breton whole wheat round with those cute little cheese knives, i would not be helping my status as a virile-straight male. god i love brie and crackers. i mean football.
HONORABLE MENTIONS:
- cornish game hen
- rack of ribs
- clam chowder in a bread bowl
- double double animal style from in-and-out (double asshole points if you order the animal fries as well)
- ice cream cone (seems innocent but actually quite evil)
- nachos
- any form of a pita sandwich

A few items of business...

2007-12-15T16:22:00.000-08:00

1. walking home from work in the rain yesterday made me feel like a thai hooker
2. tonights beverage of choice will be: beefeater's gin+diet tonic+olives
3. and that pretty much covers it

The only thing that happened all day...

2007-12-15T16:19:00.000-08:00

and even then, the fact that this was my daily highlight is all the more reason that i need to do something this evening to redeem my lost 8 hours. so a male co-worker/total jackass walks up to me and asks if he can have a word. learning from past mistakes i politely nod and follow him to his desk where i find 4 other male co-workers.
jackass- "now, i just want to say that whoever used the bathroom last needs to admit to it. what took place in there was rude and unacceptable"
we all looked at each other blankly for a few moments, obviously we were all guilty of something that's taken place in the bathroom at one point or the other. i had a clear conscious, my phone was in my pocket so its not like someone found out i was gazing at porn in the stall. finally someone speaks up, "what are you talking about?". obviously he was guilty of something, probably not this crime however. knowing this clown-ass he probably left his rock tumbler plugged in overnight and was robbing precious electricity from work.jackass walks us towards the bathroom. at this point my mind was racing. what could it be? dirty joke written on the wall? i started sweating. cocaine trail left on the counter? my breathing grew rapid. dead hooker!? dead hooker!? please be a dead hooker! that would liven things up around here. jackass opens the door and one of the most evil smells hits us. the temperature raised a good ten degress due to this shitwave. it was bad, real bad. it reminds me of what i imagine satans college laundry hamper to smell like. we all scrambled away from the door and began to offer up our own descriptions of the smell. similar to that scene in 'anchorman' when paul rudd puts on the infamous "sex panther" cologne. only this wasn't sex panther. this would be known as "shit panther, with pieces of real colon in it". here were some rather distinct descriptions:-
-"it smells like when my dog had puppies"
-"its like he didn't flush, did anyone check to see if it was flushed?"
-"no way someone did that, the human body can't produce that much sulfur"
my personal addition to the odious comparisons was-
-"whoever it was, they were up late last night drinking a lot of gin and eating a lot of boiled cauliflower"
no one ever confessed to the crime obviously. but i want to know what jackass' intentions were. did he have a punishment lined up for the culprit? i guess we shall never know.

Wednesday Morning Convo with a Co-Worker

2007-12-15T16:15:00.000-08:00

i do very little at my job, but rarely do i get called out for it. however this morning i was singed with a pretty good burn by a clever chap in the IT department. to paint the scene for you, I'm slightly hungover due to 2-for-1 drinks from last night (tuesday is the new friday), I'm playing nada surf at a rather obnoxious volume and eating a candy cane, so i look like a total prick.
me- tom! where'd you get that coffee mug with the company logo on it?
tom- its a secret.
me- horseshit! i drink more coffee in this place than anyone, i deserve a coffee mug.
tom- evan, the day i find out what you actually do around here ill get you your own mug. (burn!)me- tom, the day i find out why you think old spice is a flattering scent on you ill let you know of my work duties (burn!)
it wasn't the greatest of comebacks, but you should of seen the look on his face. he's probably been wearing old spice since the nixon administration, i gave him something to really think about. and,
the word of the day is: "booger hooks"in reference to ones hands, refer to your hands as booger hooks, because that's what they actually are. a crude tool used for exhuming mucus and filth from your nostrils.

A Monday Morning Rant

2007-12-15T16:10:00.000-08:00

item #1: coffee in the workplace:
this is an open letter to anyone who works with me. if you take the last of the coffee, make another pot. ill let some of you slide, you probably think, "its noon, i can take the last of it because no one drinks coffee in the pm, aside from coroners and beatniks". dead wrong you ass-panda! i drink coffee 24/7, especially when I'm entertaining myself with paperclips all day long. it is my life fuel during the work week. the rest of you however, i know what you're thinking, "too much coffee is bad for you, I'm probably helping evan out by not making another pot. he drinks too much coffee and smokes too many cigarettes". i also view far too much porn and bath in jameson irish whiskey. however, next time you tel me i drink coffee in excess you need to think about the fact you get mcdonalds breakfast every morning of the work week. true, both of our hearts will explode at some point, but at least my heart won't look like a stuffed bellpepper, or a kfc famous bowl. it will more likely resemble iggy pop. so i beg of you, please make a fresh pot. or leave me some actual pot, that would make the work day more tolerable as well.
item #2:
tonitas mexican ristorante, you've been far too good to me over the past few months for me to be actually angry with you. but when i come to visit you this evening, please have guacomole on hand for my always delicious solo burrito.
item #3:
sliding glass door in my bedroomfix yourself asshole!