Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Consumable Mistakes: Jolly Rancher Yogurt, Watermelon Flavored.

Yep, no leftover Taco Bell for me this morning. Just gonna start the day off right with a nice cup of yogurt. Get the ol' mechanics runnin' smooth.

This yogurt is SO good. But you know what would make it even better?

Some granola perhaps?

Fuck no! Don't be stupid. What would really turn this breakfast party out is if I could somehow have Jolly Rancher candy AND my yogurt at the same time!

Holy shit! I can?! Well sign me right up for.....

...tooth diabetes!

I can't wait to chase it with some celery sticks stuffed with Butterfinger crumbs and then really get things going with a nice bowl of Kashi covered in nacho cheese sauce.

You think kids playing physically active games on Wii is just gonna fix everything? Not over Blue Bunny's dead bunny body.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Guys' Night Advice Column #4: Smokin' Stogies

Dear Guys' Night,

Yo yo! 'Sup 'Sup!

I was mackin' to this fine ass girl at Avalon in H-wood on Saturday and thought I had the kitty in the bag. I wanted to make her think I wasn't TOO into her, so I took it outside for a sec to smoke this badass stogie I got from my buddy Erik at his bachelor party.

When I went back inside, she was all like, "Ugh, you totally stink like cigar smoke. Gross." Then I tried to flip the script on her and said in my best Rick James voice, "Whatever. YOU stink you stink ass bitch!" Then tried to laugh it off.

That's when her friend was like, "come to the bathroom with me". I thought they were gonna come back ready to split to the crib with me and my buddy Karl, but they never did.


1. Why are chicks so lame about smokin'? Kid Rock does and he made it with the hottest on the planet.


2. What are the funniest comebacks to make some girl think you're not into her but will still make her laugh and make it easier to get that nasty-nasty?

Thanks for the help GN,
Rick James Bitch

'Sup 'Sup RJB,

First off, don't beat yourself up about ANY of this. If you wanna smoke a fine cigar, smoke it. Wherever and whenever. And if women don't like it, they can suck it. I belong to this awesome mens only sauna in West Hollywood with a couple of my boys. Some nights when we're out at the club just dancin' our asses off, and all the girls must be on a code red because they aren't into even my BEST moves, we just say fuck it, GUY'S NIGHT, and hit the steam. There's always a bunch of chill guys there and there aren't any lame rules. It's towel optional, so of course everyone just goes buck so the boys can get some steam too. Besides, you can barely see in there it's so thick and they always pump the hottest house music so you can keep the par-tay goin'. AND, look man, if you've got a serious case of the blues brothers because of all the cold fish at the club grindin' and then ditching your ass, alot of the guys just feel free to tug one out. No big deal. Honestly, I haven't done it yet, I've just watched a bunch of times trying to work up the courage.

Oh, and you can smoke a cigar or cigarette or a joint or whatever in there too if you want. No one cares. It's all about relaxation.

I'll hit you up on AIM and maybe we can cruise over together sometime. I love a good cigar. And I always light it up with one of these bad boys:

Women forget all about things like cigar smoke when they're already pre-soakin' for your E-hard Zippo.

As far as crackin' up the ladies goes, just be yourself and do what you think is funny. My old standby is to go into lispy homo mode and break out some Just Jack. Chicks love that show. Plus, it shows that you're open minded and sensitive.

But for reals, if she didn't laugh at the Rick James bit, then it's best you leave that stick stuck in the mud. Ahm Rock Jahmes botch! Yeeeaah Baby!

Check your AIM later.

Peace Out,

Sunday, July 26, 2009


I saw this on the counter of a liquor store on the corner of Santa Monica and Vine.

One of my pet peeves is incense. I won't even go into a store that smells like it, no matter what they are selling, and how badly I need it. Take a note shop keeps, I'm a valuable consumer with literally TENS of dollars in expendable income!

(I'd insert about 50 jokes about this here, but I don't want to insult your intelligence by acting like you couldn't just make them up yourself. I.e., I bet it smells like desperation mixed with blah blah blah, or I'd rather have incense that smells like Brian Austin Hasslehoff, etc.)

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Who Stole My Twankie

Sonny Hernandez was the George. His brother Paul was the Lenny. A master blaster pairing of hispanic brothers in the midst of a primarily white catholic school. Sonny, my 4th grade peer was quite small but appeared bigger due to his large helmet of jet black hair. Paul, 2-years older and seemingly as many feet taller, was quiet with tea cup ears, a Lloyd Christmas haircut, and a slouching face. He was terrifying.

Everyday at lunch, Sonny would make his rounds to the tables in the gymnasium, forcing a weak attempt at a cholo swagger, which at the time came off as a goofy John Wayne meets George Jefferson impersonation. His brother Paul, "the muscle", always in tow.

Approaching those susceptible to intimidation, Sonny would ask them, "WHO STOLE MY TWINKIE?!", his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed to show he meant business. "Twinkie" was always pronounced "Twankie", which I always attributed to the John Wayne leanings and a 4th grader's poor attempt as a southern "twang". Although now, I picture it more of the way comedienne Monique would neck roll it out.

And while I don't recall if Sonny ever actually got someone to fork over a "Twankie", I do recall being sickened at his usual lunch involving a cold hot dog sandwich with ketchup. My mother is quite a worrier about things like raw meat and I'd been taught to never eat an uncooked hotdog. Which, was wrong of course. They're all precooked. I learned that around the time I figured out Jesus wasn't watching me do a goddamn thing.

I was reminded about all of this when I was thinking about seminal bully takedowns from movies. And I remembered the time Sonny tried the "Twankie" thing with me on the playground after school. And I was alone and I made some sort of insulting remark. And Paul tried to choke me. And I punched him in the face in a moment of panic.

Paul fell down, just like the man-child Lenny he was. Silently. Shocked. He probably didn't get hit all that often, if ever, due to his size.

And after the split second of my mind racing with "he is going to get up and kill me. run. RUN!"

I realized he wasn't. He welled up, got off the ground with a red cheek, and they walked away.

I just remembered feeling bad about it, sitting on the stoop waiting for my mother to pick me up. I never even told anyone. No one would have believed me anyway. I would've probably been razzed for lying or a rematch would have been incited, one that I would most likely lose badly this time.

Of course, when lunchtime came around again, it was the same shit, different day.


Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Glory of The Danger Zone

1986. My Dad took me to see Top Gun. At 10-years old, you can understand how I walked out of that theater with my mind thoroughly blown. Albeit, I could have done without sitting next to my Dad during the unnecessarily tongue heavy love scene. Some good old fashioned boobs or butt are fine next to pop, but just because Tom Cruise was trying to cement his faux masculinity doesn't mean I should have had my interest in women delayed by that obscene display.

But what I really took away from the film was the song Danger Zone.

I'd already been exposed to this Kenny Loggins guy in "midday matinee" viewings of Caddyshack and Footloose. (No cable, no VCR) Apparently, he did all the totally kickass songs for the movies.

But Danger Zone, well, the guy had really outdone himself this time. If there was ever a song to sing in your head while you're being drug on a skateboard behind a ten-speed with a rope attached to the seat, this was it.

That same weekend, my best friend's Dad took him to Karate Kid II even though he said he was going to see Top Gun as we had discussed. This meant that there would be numerous arguments as to which was the superior film.

And it also meant that HIS new favorite song was "Glory of Love" by Peter Cetera.

I'm sure you can guess who turned out to be a real pussy.


(what the shit is Kenny doing in the make-out bed? with a camera? and why is he trying to make a song about airplanes into some hot fuck jam?)

(for extra fun, watch the peter cetera performance with the sound off. you just know he won't be able to get offstage fast enough so he can masturbate in the mirror.)

Monday, July 20, 2009

Guys' Night Advice Column #3: Livin' The Dream

You ask, we answer! Just one guy helpin' out another guy. It's no big deal!

'Sup Guys' Night!

I'm a 38-year old guy's guy. I love being single and having freedom. What can I say, I LIKE having stacks of empty pizza boxes in the living room. I LIKE being able to build a beer can pyramid on the coffee table if I want. And if I want to get high on a Tuesday and eat a Hormel Chili sandwich over the sink in my underwear while I flip through a back issue of Cherry, I don't want to hear any lip about it. I lived with a girl once after college and all she ever did was complain that the toilet was filthy. I never understood that. The toilet. Is for. SHITTING IN! Who cares if it's clean?! Basically, I'm living the dream right now. But I gots a problem GN. I've been talking to this girl on MySpace for a while and she's smokin' hot (although she looks kinda bigger and older in her "tagged photos" on Facebook but those are probably just weird angles). We're supposed to maybe meet up for a coffee or something sometime. I'm worried that she's too into me and I don't want to get sucked into something that messes up the good thing I got going on. So my question is: Should I just hit it and quit it?

Thanks man,

Dear PikeBro69,

Dewd. Wtf?! I think you already answered your own question here. Don't you understand? You made it out alive! While most of your buddies are changing diapers and BEGGING to hit the range on Saturday, you're doing want comes natch. It's your life, you SHOULD do as you please. You're a fucking man for Christ's sake. Why even risk screwing it up by going on that date? Is a little piece worth it? Hell naw. Sounds like you're doin' just fine as is. I was flipping though the new GQ in the john the other day and got so wrapped up in the article about Channing Tatum, which is an excellent article. GQ is always so on point with what guy's guys are into.

Check out homeboy's abs! Oh shit! I could work out 24/7 and never get that cut. Channing's in that new G.I. Joe movie, which I wasn't going to see until I read the article. He seems super cool and down to earth. And plus, he's got the total action hero body. Can't wait to check out the movie. I'll probably go with some of my buddies 'cause chicks just aren't down for any good movies. Sorry, but I GOTTA tell you this story about when me and Karl were at the first Transformers. We only had enough cash on us to get one large popcorn and when I went to the bathroom, Karl put a hole in the popcorn bucket and stuck his dick through it. He totally played it cool until I went for a handful about halfway through and that's when I ended up getting a big handful of Karl's boner! It was so buttery and unsuspected that I must've put my hand back in the popcorn bucket 6 or 7 times until I realized what he did and then I was like, you asshole! I threw him on the ground and we were fighting until an usher tossed us out. Fucking classic Karl!

So anyway, the other day I was flipping through the new GQ in the john, and I got so wrapped up in that article that I forgot to flush until I got home from work. You think some chick woulda put up with that?

Don't hit it. Don't quit it. Just keep livin' the life bro!


Thursday, July 16, 2009

Alabama's Revenge

Remember a few ticks back when I was going on about how my baby kitty, Alabama, is a real fucking cunt?

Well guess who's gonna be on the Jay Leno show?

That fucking cunt is.

That dirty little bitch is like, 3 months old, and is already gonna be on a primetime, network talk show.

I'm motherfucking 33-years old and have yet to be on any motherfucking thing! Even got taped for something but it got thrown in the trash. And that fucking cunt is...(sigh).

Plus, she won't tell me about it. Just a bunch of begging meows for food. Cunt is being all "no big deal" about it. Giving me that "dude, you must fucking SUCK at comedy" look. All, "I just got borned and lick my butt all day and try to eat your sandwich off the coffee table and guess who am gonna be on telly! Me is! Can't wait to bite your feet awake at 6am drunk daddy!"

You know. THAT look.

I hope she gets run over by one of Jay Leno's stupid Charlie Chaplin cars or whatever the fuck he has a thousand of.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

To The Laddy

If you didn't know Pat Brice, you missed out. Couragious, brash, loud, boisterous, generous, funny, attractive, smart, successful. He owned whatever room he was in. He could tell you to go fuck yourself and you'd take it as the biggest compliment in the world.

You ever see those SNL "Bill Brasky" sketches? To my comedian buddies who started in Chicago, he was that guy, in the flesh. Bigger than life. And loved to the fullest.

We lost him 2 years ago today.

Visit Pat at

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Soak Up The Night

My buddy Matt Braunger's album came out today on Comedy Central records.

Bob Seger referenced cover art? Check.

Funny as all get out? Check.

Buy it. You'll love it in your earholes.

go here:

(sorry, links aren't working on this bucket of crap, you'll have to take a quarter of a second to copy and paste, lazy.)

Monday, July 13, 2009

Guys' Night Advice Column #2: Models

It's the #2 edition of your #1 spot for hot guy on guy advice!

Dear Guys' Night,

First off, big fan.

Secondly, I got in troubs over the weekend when I took home a gal from the club who was WAY out of my league. Like, a total model. I attached a photo I took of her on my iPhizzo from that night if you don't believe me.

Easily the hottest babe I've ever scored. But, when we hopped into the sack, my, um, "equipment" wouldn't work properly. I'm only 26 and have never had this problem with any of the regular grossouts I usually bag. How can I make sure this doesn't happen again?! Helps!


-Almost Scored With A Model Bro!


That babe is slammin'!

Sounds like you have a confidence problem. That bangin' model was probably just a little intimidating and your junk got a bad case of the cut and run.

Here's an exercise that alot of my friends do that I think will help your sitch. Next time you're hanging out with your buddies watching the game, try to get the biggest erection you can in your pants. Then flop it out and make everyone look at it, bobbing it up and down, side to side and whatnot. See how long you can maintain your full member. Make a game out of it for fun and ask some of your buddies if they want to join in. $20 to the winner! Sex and boners shouldn't be so serious like they are when you're cuddling up with that fox. Then, next time you get lucky with a 10, you can just close your eyes in the sack and pretend you're with your friends, all waving hard dongs around and cutting up in the living room. That'll help take the edge off.

Thanks for reading and never quit shooting for the top of the tail pile!


Dear Guy's Night, My Axe Body Spray only seems to attract men. What's the best scent to get the panties dropped?


Dear Darryl,

Nothing wrong with making some new buds. Keep smellin' as is! Why are you trying to attract so many women? Do you want some more errands to run on the weekend or something?!


Friday, July 10, 2009

What An Adorable Baaybeee! (with bonus The Fabulous Thunderbirds)


That's my baby kitty. Alabama. She's a real fucking cunt 95% of the time.

I love her, she's adorable.  Cute little white socks on all four paws.  But seriously, what a fucking cunt.

And that's why I don't have kids. Because when Alabama wants to eat at 4:30 am, and walks on Daddy's hungover face, Alabama can get chucked 10 feet, stick a landing, and remain in the exact same mood as if I got up and fed her.

If my kid...well, you get it.

It probably wouldn't go over as "funny" if I put this up:

This is my son. Karl. He's a real fucking cunt 95% of the time.

I love him, he's my fatso son. But seriously, what a fucking cunt.

When it's 8:30 am and I'm driving him to school and he won't stop bitching about wanting to stop at KFC and I try to explain that they're not open and even if they were we wouldn't be going there and he still won't listen, I want to throw him out of the car into oncoming traffic. Fucker swings a baseball bat like a girl but brags about his .420 average on that stupid MLB video game. 

Yep, makin' fun of fat kids, babies, and calling kittens "fucking cunts".  I'm a class act.

If it makes you feel better, I wrote this while listening to Beyonce's "Halo" on repeat.  

*Yes, I realize that this would make a great "ME EATED POOP!  HOORAY!" or whatever, kitty gibberish photo, but we have enough of those.
**Yes, after reading this, I am self aware that Louie CK and Jason Nash have material where they say outlandishly derogatory things about their children, but my kitten is a cunt, and this is just a stupid blog.

On a completely unrelated note, how badass is Detroit born Kim Wilson?  Motherfucker's got swagger like hotcakes.  Have yourself a Friday kids!  It starts here:

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Light Summer Reading

Actually, more like Light Summer Picture Looking.

I got this coffee table book today. Fuh. King. Incredible.

If I was into dudes, this would be my porno.

But Mike, it's just a bunch of Van Halen pictures we've all seen a million times. It's not like there's a picture of Michael Anthony in scuba gear with a knife in his mouth.

Fine. But c'mon, is there a picture of DLR jumping off a skateboard over a tennis net? On the opposite page?

Yes. Yes there is. And fine, it is porno to me. Homophobes.

Monday, July 6, 2009

My "Dead Head Sticker On A Cadillac" Moment

If "Punks Not Dead", on an air freshener, in a 1998 Chevy Impala, doesn't say, "Punk IS Dead", I don't know what does.

I think I just accidentally just found sympathy in a Don Henley song.

Damn you Henleeeeeeyyyyyyy!!!!!!

On Hollywood Blvd:

Guys' Night Advice Column #1: BOD Man. Really Ripped Abs.

You asked for it (like 4 people), you got it! It's the Guys' Night Advice Column, every Monday at Midwestern Nightmares. The advice column where it's just one guy helpin' outta another guy. No big deal.

Here we go!

Dear Guys' Night,

Me and my girlfriend lead pretty busy lives. We don't really have time to see each other much, so we try to make a point on the weekends. But lately, our Friday nights have pretty much consisted of us watching House Hunters four times in a row, eating a frozen pizza, then falling asleep.

How can I breach the subject of me wanting sex without it turning into some big deal?

-Just Some Guy

Dear JSG,

Sounds like you have a case of the comfy couple blues. What you need to do, is show her you're still a hot commodity on the schoolyard and she should treat you like you deserve. The next time you're heading over to the ol' cold potato's for your bummer Friday night, make sure you show up in your freshest Tap Out tee, DOUSED in Axe Body Spray or better yet, BOD. (I like "Really Ripped Abs")

Smellin' all fine as hell, settle in for some sensitive lady tv as per usual, but have one of your pals make a preplanned phone call. Tell her how you totally forgot it was Dave or Tony or whatever's birthday, and you've gotta get down to PJ McFlanno's ASAP! First off, if she doesn't understand that it's important to your buds, then she can get the curb and tell her you gotta go anyway. Deal with it next Friday. But, if she's into it and wants to come with, make sure you tell her you gotta go RIGHT NOW, not next Tuesday after she spray paints her face. It's important that you really hammer home what a grossout she looks like in her fatso sweats so she'll feel really bad about herself and stays put.

Now cut the fuck out and get to the bar. Guy's Night!

Don't hesitate to really do it up with shots of Jaeg Bombers and what not. Make the night all about guys just being guys. You are pussy hounds on the hound for some puss! That'll make your old bag really jealous. Girls can sense that shit. Maybe you and the boys can bend over a little extra while shooting some stick for the ladies, maybe drop a few tabs and go out in the parking lot to "piss on the dumbster" but then you really just show each other your dicks and see who can get a hard on the fastest and whoever wins makes the other guys stroke it, just for a little or something? Yeah. That'll show her.

Then maybe you all get in Dave's truck and see if you can have a wrestling match in that tight space with your clothes off and the heat all the way up. Loser has to jack it while Celine Dion plays and the other guys video tape it. Now we're talkin' Guy's Night! No big deal!

After you boys are done ragin', go back to that snoozefest all fucked up with a small jizz stain on your pants, but tell her it's just sour cream from all the 'chos you were chowing down to celebrate. She'll be suspicious, but won't be able to prove nothin', 'cause you didn't do nothin' wrong! Ha! Just guys bein' guys!

Hope this helps out!