Friday, April 30, 2010

Nightmare Fuel

To finish up Freaky Friday (since you East coasters are going to be out drinking soon, if not already) here is a giant 21ft tall mongoloid baby that Spain built, just to assure that no matter how drunk you get tonight, you won't be able to sleep since every time you close your eyes you'll see THIS staring back at you.  The story (if you give two twats) is below.  Don't forget to come visit me at Welcome To Tardville sometime.  Excuse the mess over there, I wasn't expecting company.  Happy Friday!

If that baby is 21ft tall, how big is that fucking bubble?
 From OC:

Miguelin, is a 6.5 meters tall animated baby that Spain has created for its pavilion, at the Shanghai World Expo 2010. And if you thing this toddler’s just a big old doll, you’re sadly mistaken. Miguelin breaths, blinks and dreams of the cities we leave to our future generations, while smiling to visitors that walk by.  Miguelin, who was constructed in the US, dreams of the future,and his dreams will be animated, for all visitors to see. (Ed note - gaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy) SOURCE

Hangover Cures & Robot Pandas

Since I am still deep in the throes of this hangover, I shall share my secret hangover remedies / eases with you, even though none of them work anymore because I think my liver has ceased to function.  But once upon a time when I was young and beautiful, these did the trick.

Box yourself in the head - yes, this sounds like the worst idea ever, but for some odd reason when I had a massive migraine I could slam the sides of my head and it would make the pain go away for a couple of minutes.  That window of opportunity just might give you the chance to fall asleep, and when you awaken, unicorns will be having sex on top of your Care Bear sheets and the world will be a bright and wonderful place.

Eat spoonfuls of sugar -  hey, why the fuck is "spoonfuls" spelled with one "l"?  Does this make any sense?  Spoon is spelled normally.  And "full" has two "ll"s.  So why in the sweet name of Harry Potter's pubes would spoonful only have one "l"??? Fucking retarded.  Anyway, hangovers = headaches = migraines = puking balls.  Make the ball puking experience into a pleasant one by eating spoonfuls of sugar!  I used to do this as a little kid and carried that shit all the way into physical adulthood.  You want to vomit bliss?  Sugar that shit up.

Make dinosaur noises - I'm telling you, this works.  I moan a lot when hungover, because somehow just making pathetic noises makes me feel better.  By taking this to the next level and literally stomping around with your arms up like a tyrannosaurus and making dino-calls you can make your hangover at least 35% less severe.  It's SCIENCE.  

Wack off / diddle your love swamp - the more hungover I am, the more times I wax the ol' statue of Captain Picard.  Even though I lose valuable fluids during this exercise, it's well worth it to escape into a world of double penetration and whores who love the taste of their own ass.  Downside is that if you have a headache, that brain scrambling pain will come back twice as bad for the couple of minutes after you finish.

Watch terrible movies on Sci Fi - the films on Sci Fi channel are so goddamn terrible that they actually numb the brain so that you can't feel the physical pain of your hangover.  After watching "Dinocroc," "Crocosaurus," "Sharktopus," "Dracucroc" and "Count Crocenstein" you will fall into a deep healing coma and potentially emerge from your human body as a glowing alien, just like in the fantastically excellent film, "Cocoon," starring your hero and mine, Steve Gutenberg.

Drink - whatever you were doing last night, do it again this morning.  Jenny turned me onto the truly amazing "pickleback" drink (pickle juice and whiskey).  Obviously this isn't a secret, but some people are such huge pussies that they refuse to drink anything the day (or days) after getting really drunk and hungover, and I have no respect for these colossal ass hats.  You see, you have to teach your body who is boss and if you skip boozing your body will make a negative association with booze that can have long term negative effects.  Better to man up and sock your liver right back to where it belongs.  Pretty soon we'll have replacements for all our organs anyway, which means, yes, you can finally have the 5-cocked starfish genitals you always wanted.

Here are robotic pandas, as promised.  I know...I'm too good to you.


Remember that game "Burgertime"? I played that in a bar and it was the most fun I think I have ever had.  The halcyon days, they were.  They need to make a game called "Bonertime" where you control a cock n balls that runs around and has to avoid being trapped in various snooches.  It would be awesome.

I'd like to confess that I have never had a boner for a dude (that I knew was a dude anyway - Thai ladyboys don't count) however, if I close my eyes and use the magic of my imagination, perhaps, since it is Freaky Friday after all, I can slip into a world of yeast infections and accidental pregnancies to visualize for which wangs the the boner bones.  It boners for thee!  Wait, no, not you.  You.  Onto the bonering!

1.  Sean Connery - yes, he's old, but when you are that damn sexy it stays with you like toenail fungus.  Double-oh-seven? More like double-oh-fourteen.  INCHES. 

2. Jason Statham - maybe it's because I also am an incredibly good looking balding man with rock hard abs, but Jason Statham is a solid boner inducer.  I likes em gruff, I do!  Dude has a voice like a truck rolling across gravel.

3. Johnny Depp - it would be like boning a different eccentric, yet attractive weirdo every night!  Plus, you know he has low standards for beauty and you could probably hit that with a few shots of Jager. Don't believe me? Look at his snagglepuss wife.

4. Optimus Prime - what, I can't fuck a robot?  That's not what every Japanese man believes, and I consider myself to have a globally sensitive mind.  Ever said "I feel like I just got fucked by a truck?" Well BAM! You just did, little lady.

5. Brock Sampson - if you don't watch "The Venture Bros." on Cartoon Network, you either A: Are a dirty fucking douchebag hipster who takes pride in not owning a TV, like a royal cunt, or B: Are someone with no sense of humor who probably eats babies.  Brock Sampson could fart and you'd have the best orgasm of your life.

FYI, this Excedrin is not helping. 

The Prescription is PAIN

Helloooooo there, my name is Brian of Welcome To Tardville, bigger (faster, stronger) brother of Jenny, and I'll be your guest guide on the blog today.  That's the good news.  The bad news is that I drank way too many sake bombs last night while rocking the tits off of some sweet karaoke tunes (playlist available upon request, as is a picture of my genitals dressed up like Winston Churchill) so I may vomit all over my keyboard.  It's going to be like typing in soup.  You can even try it at home - go get a bowl and pour beer, sake, day old crepes and roofies into it, then get yourself some oyster crackers and a sharpie.  Label the crackers with letters and then float them in the soup.  Now try to type.  Bingo, vomit keyboard! 

Anywhooo, this blog likes to talk about boners and dudes, and since I actually have a boner I think I'm more qualified to discuss who or what giveth boners than Jenny and Shannon.  I'll even take a page out of the homo handbook and keep it guy related.  Plus I'll probably do something else when my brainpan stops trying to rape the rest of my skull.  Maybe with pandas.  Or robots.  Or robot pandas.  Eh, maybe nothing. 


Today is the one year birthday of Tonight At The Pit. They grow up so fast! Only problem is, Shanon McBonerkiller decided to go antiquing upstate instead of getting day drunk and having Dorito eating contests with me. Guess we'll just have to celebrate tomorrow, with mint juleps, Kentucky bourbon, and some K might be nice, in honor of the derby. Authenticity, we strive for it.

But! What I AM gonna do today, is pay some homage to another redhead whose life choices I find equally entertaining; Lindsay Lohan.  It is Freaky Friday you see, so my brother from Welcome to Tardville and I have decided to swaparoo blogs for the day. I have a feeling it will be exactly like the Lohan/Curtis classic, meaning you'll probably only want to spank it to one of us. As to which one, we'll leave that up to you!

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Flirting 101

We all know that I'm the worst at flirting. Seriously. The worst. But here are some tips I've picked up / taught myself that will probably never come in handy but at least I get a kick out of it.

1. George Constanza that shit out. As in, say a funny one-liner then get the hell out of there. Last night I went to a party at a clothing store and they had free drinks and weird Swedish candy set up in a giant tent. It was a very intimate setting and I didn't realize there were about 4 people standing behind me as I got my drink. I took one sip and made a "holy fuck that's strong" face. Then I said to no one in particular, "Stiff and delicious!" I turned around and was greeted by dead silence and awkward stares. The next words out of my mouth? "That's what she said." Then I exited the tent. A stylish black dude came up to me later and said he was totally blown away by what just happened in the tent. Success!

2. Make fun of the other person. The same dude from the story above eventually gave me his card. I took one look, busted out laughing and then tossed it on the ground. It had his photo on it! His response was "Yeah girl, that shit's so hot you can't even keep your hands on it." Boom, done. He loves me!

3. Always assume the dude is gay. Nothing gives a lady that "I-don't-give-a-fuck" bravado more than the belief that they have absolutely no chance of getting the guy into naked territory. Jenny likes to take it a step further and actually call the dude gay, on the reasoning that they will have to prove their way out. You see where this is going. Brilliant!

4. If all else fails, just say nothing and stare. The other night I was at a friends pot-luck and saw some Portuguese dudes I wanted to get to know better (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). I went to stand next to them, we smiled and nodded at each other, then I put my hands in my pockets and kept my mouth shut. One of them started laughing and said, "Really? You can't think of an opener?" Hook. Line. Sinker.

5. Show some boobies. This was the first thing Jenny thought of when I asked her for some flirting tips. But yeah, that shit works.

6. Never try to hide your farts. Honesty is always the best way to go. Just fess up if you let loose the goose. The dude will respect you all the more for it. By the way this has, um, never happened to me before? Yeah, final answer.

7. Don't be afraid to don those beer goggles. Let's face it, booze makes everything better! It makes our problems go away, gives us a healthy boost of confidence, and makes chubs look like Erik from True Blood. How it do that? Don't question it. And don't be afraid to get good and drunk before flirting with a dude. It'll make the experience that much more hilarious for your friends.

8. Slapping butts is ok. Guys don't tend to have the kind of asses you can grab, so it's not offensive in the slightest to smack it. Let me be clear, it's not ok when dudes do this to ladies. A phantom hand slapped my booty in a crowded subway and I was MIFFED. But going to a bar and slapping a cute boys butt is a great conversation starter.

9. Tell him he looks like he has a big cock. This one's all Gandy. But you know what? I'm totally gonna use that line.


Here's one that's gonna knock some socks off, guess what errrybody; I DON'T PEE IN POOLS. There. I said it. Peeing in pools really grosses me out. Yes, I'm aware that there is chlorine up in it and I hear urine is sterile, but I am really not down with dog-paddling around in someone else's Golden Bath. I even get stage fright trying to take a leak in the ocean sometimes, where there's tides and waves to carry that shit away from you.

Chris and I were talking about how great it is when pools have bars and barstools built into them and I said, "Yeah! Cause then you don't even have to get out of the water to get a drink" and he said the same sentence only instead of "get a drink" he said "take a piss," literally peeing all over my pool party.

The worst and most flagrant case of this though, was when we did shrooms in Nicky's parent's pool last Summer. Now we were all tripping balls in this pool for a solid six hours or so and around hour number four, I began to wonder why I was the only one out of Shanon, Nick, Chris & George who had gotten out of the pool and walked in the house to go pee. Then I put two + two together and realized four people had been peeing in the pool the entire time. They all claimed the reason was because you "can't look at mirrors when you're on shrooms" hence not going to a real bathroom, but I called bullshit on these lazy fuckers. Normally, I would be like you guys are gross, whatever, but here's a little nugget of wisdom for those of you who have never  shroomed in a pool before; be prepared to swallow a fuckton of water. Now you see why I was "out of sorts," if you will. 

When I am rich enough to have my own pool or get tired of jumping fences to access my neighbor's, you can be damn sure that my pool will be filled with that chemical that turns piss water bright purple and anyone I find swimming in that current will be rejected immediately. Damn sure.

What We Do On Friday Nights

Last Friday Jenny and I went to Fette Sau after work ...and stayed until they closed. I'm sure this doesn't sound very ridiculous, but let me explain a few things.

1. Fette Sau is a BBQ joint that is always super crowded with long lines. My girlfriend Jenny doesn't eat meat and making her wait in lines is like dropping Gizmo into water and watching him turn into a fucking gremlin. Seriously within 4 minutes her panties where twisted up in a thickened trefoil knot (look it up).

2. It's a restaurant - not a hang out for 4 1/2 hours kind of place. That shit is so crowded and people are like vultures for open space and seats. We eventually squirmed our way into the corner of the bar and didn't move all night. I'm sure everyone was loving us.

Anyway so after Jenny watched me eat a shit ton of pulled pork, we plowed through a half-gallon growler and some whiskeys. After a while we decided to fuck with the bartender and make him love us. He definitely had a gerkin stuffed up his bunghole. It probably didn't help that we started shouting random names at him after he refused to tell us his. But guess what? That dude LOVED us by the end of the night. He gave us another free growler and more whiskeys. Then Jenny and I both went home and hurled. The end.

Here's a note that Jenny (with an interjection from me) wrote that for some reason I decided to pocket and scan rather than actually giving it to the bartender. Click to enlarge!

Last Requests

Sometimes when Shanon or myself are drunk and making our way home solo, we get scurred by desolate subways or nutty cab drivers and so text each other our last requests or bequeath items of value to one another, wood-burning pen? Space Ghost DVDs? I have few things of worth. Come to think of it, what I should do is have a list at the ready of stuff I need her to destroy, like incriminating photos or my middle school diary or cartoon porn collection.

I told Shanon that if I go first, I'd like her to put me on a bar stool at Max Fish and have a drink with me. She in turn called me morbid, but you know what, after about four whiskey shots or so, I bet she'd probably want to split from there and drag me around to a bunch of different bars with her, so it would end up like any other Friday night. Weekend At Jenny's! Only instead of dancing to Caribbean music I will come back to life and take shots when Lady Gaga is played. Which I guess would technically make it Weekend At Jenny's 2.

Real talk though, looking at dead bodies is some freaky-deaky shit and I don't want to subject my friends to that, so instead I think I would like to be cremated and then have my ashes packaged into some form of confetti or shot out of a canon alongside a midget, over the Williamsburg Bridge. Said friends can all watch at a park nearby, whilst getting drunk on "The Jenny" (Georgi vodka and flat soda water) and can pour some out into the East River for me and reminisce until everyone's good and drunk enough to get a tattoo of my face somewhere on their body. Preferably above the waist, but at that point I guess I will be in no position to give a fuck, amiright?

Shanon mentioned that Gandy called dibs on her books and was perplexed by this (haha, our friends can't "read") and I said duh, Harry Potter, what do you think he's after your World War Two history novels or your Jayne Austin criterion collection? I am much more logical though and told Shanon she could have any of my possessions that end in the letter "W." She almost had an annuerism trying to come up with things, so I upgraded her to the letter "T," which sedated her. This is a great way to divvy up stuff as well as keeping your friends on your good side, lest you shaft them with "Q" or "X" or some shit. Wait, this whole post is moot, since I plan on living forever once science gets their shit together.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Shannie's Music Poo Baw Whatever

See! I do what I says and and I says what I do.

Next up for shit I've been liking lately is Male Bonding out of the UK. They've got this punk wall-of-sound thing going on, which combines two of my favorite things. Then I saw this video and it really sealed the deal for me because each one of them is wearing a style I totally vibe with. Coogi sweater? I gots one! Flannel? Fuck yes. Stripes and a snazzy handkerchief? Well, I'm not so into the neck-hanky but I wear stripes all the time. Makes me feel French and classy, you see.

Male Bonding - Year's Not Long


First of all, I fully intend to continue my music column (so shut it, Jenny) but before I do I'd like to contribute my own secret and really get this train rolling full steam ahead. So to speak.

My secret? Very few people know this but the last time I pissed the bed - and I mean for real pissed, without the assistance of booze - was when I was 16 years old. That's right. Six. Teen.

In Fiji they have this crop called Kava. Apparently when you make it into a tea and drink large quantities of it you start to go all numb like you're on cocaine. How interesting, you say? Not really. I was in Australia doing some hippie hiking trip (seriously I didn't wear shoes for over a month) and our guides made us drink this shit one night. They put a ton of it in a tube sock, soaked it for a while and made me us chug-a-lug. I literally had 14 cups of gross sock-water. I didn't feel the effects so I said fuck this shit and went to bed. While sleeping I had a dream that I was swimming in a river with one of the girls on the trip. I said to her that I needed to pee and she told me to just go in the river. "You can do that?!" dream-Shanon said. Next thing I know I'm pissing in my sleeping bag. You know what else? I had to sleep in that pee-bag for another week.

What NOBODY knows is that a few weeks after I got home, I pissed the bed again for no reason other than I probably secretly loved it.


Since Shanon and I are so good at starting new columns and then forgetting about them forever, (Remember Shannie's Music Poo Baw...?? Yeah. Me neither.) I thought I'd fire up another; "Ssssecrets." The name pretty much says it all and I find it amusing how creeped out Shanon gets by the way I pronounce it (much like a pervy child molester might).

So here goes - I fucking love Florida! I pretend to hate it but I secretly love it there.

It's warm, there's none of this "Winter" bullshit where I freeze my tits off. Winter is fun when you're either sledding or waiting for Santa, any other time and it can suck a chilly dong. They have pawn & porn shops that are delightful if you have the sack to make it past the spooky exterior and hilariously named strip clubs all over the place like "Bare Assets," which for some reason gets me every time.

And people eat dinner at 4:30 which is when I like to eat too! Anytime after six or so and I'm already punching the clock at my other job - Boozin'. Much like a Gremlin, my body rejects anything that isn't alcohol after 10pm.  I mean, sure, the whole state smells like old people and the panhandle is not worth stopping to take a crap in (as we learned on our road trip in the town we dubbed "Shitsville") but this is a small price to pay for the luxury of fast food restaurants as far as the eye can see, all the waterparks you can handle, and an amusement park for everyone from Harry Potter losers to alcoholics (Busch Gardens).

I can't wait to go back.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Boner of the Day

Michael Caine, aw hell yes. He's a mummy-dust farter, but goddamit I love him. He was all sorts of nerdy hot back in the day and could also kick some serious ass. Get Carter? Gaaaaangsta! Goldmember? Uhhh-thank-you, I'll hit it.

Musings on Assholes

The other day Jenny asked me how to describe skaters effects on ladies to dudes that don't actually skate. Sigh. This is like trying to describe why girls love assholes to nice dudes (aka pussies) - it's not going to make any logical sense but that's just the way it is.

Since the dawn of hot boys, girls of different generations have fallen for specific brooding types of men. Let's see if I can get them all in chronological order-ish:

Knights - So bangin! And always single too. These guys are married to their work, which in this case is saving damsels, fighting bad guys and entering tourneys to see who's the greatest champion (the Middle Ages equivalent of turning pro). Then they'd kick back with other knights and drink mead. It's all about the bro hangs with these guys.

Pirates - Also interminably single and totally badass. Ladies were equally frightened and horny for these dudes. Stealing the booty! It's every girl's dream.

Mr. Darcy - In the Victorian era everyone wanted to marry rich (boring!), but the smart ladies knew that the assholes were where it's at. If you were rich AND an asshole, well obviously you were made in the shade. Girls get so huffy when guys are dicks to them, it's all they can think and talk about (hello, this is how drunk texting was born). What's more, you had to be insanely polite back then. Being a dick with manners? SWOON. Mr. Darcy and his ilk were the hottest.

Soldiers - WWI and WWII soldiers got so much pussy. There's nothing hotter than a dude who's off to fight evil (in this case the Central then Axis Powers). Couple that with a high probability of death and girls don't stand a chance. These guys had to have been swimming in tang - pooty tang, that is.

Bikers - Leather jackets, greaser hair and an I-don't-give-a-flying-fuck attitude that pissed off every parent. Of course the ladies wanted to lift up their poodle skirts for these dudes.

Rock Stars - The 60s and 70s were weird. I guess girls wanted to give it up to rock stars the most, but then again hippies also got a lot of vag. I don't really understand this shit so I'll skim over it and just leave it at weird.

Ethan Hawke - Reality Bites fucked over every yuppie in the country. All girls wanted was that dirty grunge scumbag. They didn't have jobs and acted like they didn't care about anything. You know they got laid constantly by girls who wanted to prove that they had feelings, like trying to solve a rubik's cube.

Skaters - Which brings us to the point of my history lesson. Skaters are this generation's hot asshole. They hang out mostly with other dudes, get wasted, do stupid shit constantly, are usually pretty hilarious, and don't give a fuck about most things. Their general demeanor makes them so bonerific, that ladies even find the ugly ones attractive. Let's just say that if two girls are walking down the street and they hear a skateboard, the conversation will come to a dead stop and heads will turn. Watching skaters do tricks and what have you is equivalent to watching a jousting match in the Middle Ages - ladies want to throw their panties at that shit.

Presidential Debate

As of late, my buddy Wes and I have been on a texting kick which involves asking the other person who they would rather bone. Count Chocula or Booberry? Roseanne or Tom Arnold? Hall or Oates? The other night the question was "sex for money or beating people up for bucks." The answer was obvy sex, since I'm a lover and not a fighter, but the whole money/sex combo prompted my thought train to chug into the county of what president featured on our currency I would or would not like to bone.

Washington. Ol' George comes off as très fagè on this bill. I'm definitely sure his teeth and hair are fake and I'm somewhat sure he's wearing those because he's actually an old lesbian in disguise. I cannot tell a lie Gee Dubs, I don't wanna hit them colonial skins with you.

Jefferson. Did they take two dollar bills out of circulation because dude looks like he has down syndrome? Pass.

Lincoln. I would tap that Lincoln Log. He was super tall right, and I love me some giant.

Hamilton. More like Slamilton. This dude is where it's at. What a fox! If they had frat parties back in Ye Olde Hundred Times, we would totally be doing presidential keg stands together. 

Jackson. Did he double as a mad scientist or something? Jacko's looking like he has a case of the crays and there's nothing hotter than a man whose sanity level is equal or less than my own.

Grant. Why heh-row, bear.

Franklin. Is it all about the Benjamins? Benneroo seems like he would be a total prude in the sack. And he would probably do something weird like get naked in the other room and make sure it's pitch black before getting into bed. Or just want to "hold each other" all night. Inventing shit is really fun though and he was really good at that. Except daylight savings time, that shit is annoying. Fuck you, Franklin.

Sacajawea. I would pity-fuck Sacajawea, because everyone hates those fucking heavy gold-dollar bullshits they stamped her navajo mug on. Sorry Saccy, to make up for raping your land and people, we're gonna go ahead and put you on the most annoying currency we can think of. You can't fit in any vending machines except for the MTA's and people will accidentally give you to bums and then get mad because they thought you were a quarter, but look! You're made of gold!

I'm not too crazy over what's going on in that papoose o' hers though, but we get it, you're a MILF.

All in all, I think I'ma hold out for some Obama Bucks.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Boner of the Day

Chad White. Normally I poo-poo male models, since I find the none-too-bright stereotypes about them tend to be true and I get freaked out by dudes who are prettier than me, but then Gandy sent this adorable video my way. I'm not crazy about the lip-syncing and winking dealie, but when he gets shirtless and sexy nerded up with them glasses? Boiiiiiing.
If this makes me gay for male models, then color me Zoolander, because you best believe I will Hit. It.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Boner of the Day

Ilyah Kovalchuck! Last night I was at this sports/college bar drinking a martini and reading a book myself. There was a giant flat screen in front of my face playing the Devils and whatever other team hockey game. Ilyah is bangin! I know nothing about this sport other than which players are hot, and I'm a-ok with that. Look at this crazy photo of him as a viking! Or is it a kilt? Who even knows. Russians are weird.

Bonerkiller of the Day

I'm gonna go ahead and start up a new column in this bloggle of ours, called Bonerkiller of the Day, for shit that generally kills my boner. Today's BKOD is longboards.

I consider myself a lady that finds pleasure in the simple things in life; be it bagels & coffees from street carts, a $5 beer & whiskey shot combo, or a hot dude & his skateboard. Longboards straight up destroy that last one for me and this is a major bummer, since watching dudes skate is one of my most favorite past times. Why just this past Sunday, after Gandy and I had finished stalking my bike store boif, I suggested we go ogle some guys at the skate park. Unfortunately, this was short-lived, once he pointed out that only one dude was 18 in the bunch and even that was questionable, so we looked like creepy pedophiles.

But yes, longboards, fuck that. Shanon agrees with me one hundo percent on this and very aptly noted that dudes who ride longboards also tend to be wearing flip flops, adding insult to my already injured boner. Longboards are the faggy Laguna Beach equivalent to Hummers; they're dumb-looking, will make me automatically assume you're a douchebag, and are too big/have no place in this city.

And oh muh guh, I just found a whole site dedicated to this!

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Babies, My Newest Frienemy

Getting older isn't really something I think about often. After all my friends are all getting older too. We're the same bunch of retards who make the same bad decisions we did back in our early 20s. Except now some of us go to the gym regularly and we enjoy things like going to the farmer's market and talking about different ways to cook a pig.

If there's one thing that makes me feel like an old though, it's babies. Fucking babies. I can't even count how many times in the past few months they've foiled my internet stalking. Is it too much to ask that when I look up a hot boy on Facebook, I don't suddenly come across pics of him and his new baby? I've never had this problem before. I mean, can you imagine a 23 year-old guy with a baby? Shudder. Marriage in your late 20s I get at least, sort of. With a newly married guy I can be all, "Well that probably won't work out, I'll just bide my time." But babies are forever.

And now here are some gratuitous photos of hot dads with their babies. I'll even throw a gay in there for Gandy.

The Menagerie, Part Deux

Tuesday? More like Zoosday! So my brother apparently has a much better memory then me, probably because he's older and me rikee tha reefer (shrug). The multiple beat-downs he administered to me during our youth might have something to do with it too. But real talk, after reading my post about our collective pets, he enlightened me to a few other emotionally scarring menagerie occurrences that I had selectively forgotten.

Check it here on his very own bloggie, Welcome To Tardville.

Man's Best Friend

Bet you think this is a blog about dogs, right? Suckers, it's about rats.

Jenny's post below got me thinking about my own array of pets as a kid - a dog, four cats, guinea pigs, a rabbit, a hamster ...and four rats. Yes, rats. This post goes out to the best pets I ever had, my beloved rats. Jenny was quite disgusted when I started telling her about this, but lets just everyone calm down and forget your prejudices about these intelligent, misunderstood creatures.

Cassie Senior - My first rat was named Cassie. He was fairly large as rats go, brown, and fucking awesome! In fact, Cassie Sr was so awesome that I named my next rat Cassie as well (so the "Senior" was added posthumously). He would only answer to my calls so after my mom cleaned his cage she'd have to get me to call Cassie out from under the bed. Then me and him would watch She-Ra. I even had him trained to lick my hand... and occasionally my face. So cute! When Cassie Sr died I cried so bad. I guess the one negative thing about pet rats is that they only live about 2-3 years. Other than that they're the shit.

Cassie Junior - She was no Cassie Sr, mind you, but Cassie Jr was also amazing. And yes she was a lady. She was so sweet natured and would sit in my lap for hours. The one and only time she ever bit me was right after the 1989 earthquake in SF. The minute I got home I ran to her cage to make sure she was ok but I think that shit frightened her cause she bit my hand when I went to grab her. I didn't hold it against her though, earthquakes are scary!

Sandy and Sarah - These two sisters were my last rats. Sandy was white with a brown stripe down her back and Sarah was white with a brown nose. We had to go back to the pet shop 5 times because each time we brought back a male and a female rather than two females. Somehow my uncle could tell the difference and made us go back lest the two "ladies" suddenly give birth to 17 baby rats. Anyway rats have personalities (duh) and Sarah was totally the sassy one while Sandy was the brooding type. I drew a picture of both of them back in the day and got that shit laminated. Sarah died first and I was heartbroken, then Sandy died a bit later from tumors (inbreeding can be a bitch). That was the end of my rat empire, and you know what? Reminiscing about my beloved pets just made me a little sad, not gonna lie.

Monday, April 19, 2010

The Menagerie

While walking around yesterday I passed a dude carrying a plastic cage with a guinea pig in it and was reminded of how much I can't stand those things. As far as pets go, I find them useless and annoying. The squeaky sound they make sucks, they're dumb as bricks, and who wants a pet that looks like the result of a rabbit that fucked a rat. I never had one growing up, I never even asked for one of those stupid overgrown bucktoothed hamsters, which is surprising because check out all the pets we did have, in order from my most liked to least:

Dogs. Our first dog, Sasha (RIP) was a pretty good dog, except that she only listened to/loved my Dad way more than anyone else in the family and it was blatantly obvious. Even after my Dad accidentally hit her in the eye with a golfball and blinded her (true story).

Cats. We all know the story of good old Sir Fur, but we had two other cats after Surf that I dug, Cinders and Little Kitty.Yes, four people in my family and the best name we could come up with for our cat was Little Kitty.

Bunny. His name was Thumper (my family will out-animal-name yours any day, btw) and he chewed through his hutch to freedom. He was...cute? I dunno, what else do rabbits do.

Hamsters. Okay, the reason I like hamsters and want to punch guinea pigs is because hamsters are not only cuter and quieter, they are more fun to watch and run on wheels and through tunnels and don't have long gross tails like gerbils and mice/rats and they're really good at escaping. We had a few hamsters, but my favorite was Pooky (named after Garfield's best friend of course) who we thought died once, but then my Mom brought him back to life. Okay, maybe he was just sleeping or hibernating, but we were so spooked by Voo Doo Witch Doctor Mom that I don't think we fought or wiped boogers on the walls for like a solid week.

Bird. We had a cockatiel named Peaches that was my Mom's homeboy (Homegirl? Does it matter with birds? Nah.) and used to kick it on her shoulder all day, much like if she were a pirate. It did this so much that Captain Mom would forget it was even there and one day she opened the front door to check the mail and Peaches abandoned ship.

Lizards. Chameleons! Two of em! One of the best days of my childhood was when the cat knocked their cage over and they escaped. My Mom saw one under an end table downstairs, grabbed it, and its tail came off in her hand. Try and imagine something better than being eight and seeing your Mom's face as this went down. I can not.

Turtle. I don't even remember his name. He sucked. I "built" him a cage, which was really my frisbee propped up by a rock and the corner of the back porch and the water heater, thinking this would be fine because he's a fucking turtle, where's he going, and he escaped. TWICE. The first time I found him in our neighbor's garden. Second time I decided I didn't care.

Other crappy pets included; hand-caught frogs, squirrels (we'll save that for another day), hermit crabs and a goldfish, but these were all extremely short-lived. And holy shit, I just realized that nearly every pet we have owned has escaped or attempted it, except the dogs and that is most likey only because they were on leashes and the goldfish because he was clearly no fucking "Nemo". Even our cat Cinders sneaked out the back door one time and tried to make it on her own in the real world. She came crawling back after a week and a half of torrential rain and the realization that she was in fact a giant pussy and man, did she love us after that.

Wild animals. What a bunch of ingrates.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Caught In The Act

Doesn't the name of this post seem like it should be the title of a Whoopi Goldberg vehicle, perhaps one in which she poses as an unlikely nun? Anywho, I was doing something weird and embarrassing by myself the other day, like eating heat peanuts for dinner and drinking wine alone while reading a trashy mag in my underpants and watching One Tree Hill or some shit and thought to myself wow, how embarrassed would I be if someone stopped by right now? The answer is extremely. I'm not that easily embarrassed, (sobriety level plays a big hand in this) but here are things that have shamed me in the past:

- Get caught jerking off. Okay, his has never actually happened to me, nor have I ever caught anyone, which is surprising, considering I have a brother who was once a teenager, but I imagine it sucks. It would be way more humiliating to get caught doing this as a chick, guys are expected to jerk off all the time, dude I know chose spanking it over showering in the morning if he was running late to work. With the ladies it's more of a don't ask don't tell thing for some reason.

- Get caught eating food that fell on the floor/desk. If I drop my sandwich or something equally important to me, like diamonds, you best believe I will not think twice about rescuing it from wherever it landed and eating it. I am above many things, shame sandwiches is not one of them.

- Getting caught IM'ing the wrong person. Speaking of sandwiches, one time, inexplicably, an IM I sent to Shanon went to her coworker. Wouldn't have been a big deal, except the message was something like, "That sandwich was so good, if it was a wang I'd have sex with it." I'm not cut out for the professional world, huh.

- Get caught farting. The embarrassment level on this one is completely contingent on the situation, because I generally find farts hi-larious. My friend Josh informed me that on average, a person farts 14 times per day, which prompted me to google farts and then silently cry with laughter at my desk for the next twenty minutes at my findings. But if you were at a job interview or meeting the president and you ripped one, probs wouldn't be as funny as

 - Get caught reading a fantasy novel. One guess who got caught doing this one. One guess. 

- Get caught boning. This was embarrassing the first time it happened to me. Yes, that's right, first. I will get the hang of door locks one of these days.

- Get caught walking around naked. I need to write on my bathroom mirror "YOU ARE NOT INVISIBLE."

- Get caught checking out dudes and/or chicks. This doesn't really embarrass me, I find it funny. I even like to do the exaggerated double take. Especially because if you do a double take and they catch you cause then it means they were checking you out right back, so everybody wins. As for checking out chicks, I do it in a non-lesbionical way all the time, for various reasons, mainly outfit-related, but also because I believe that boobs are meant for everyone to enjoy.

- Get caught urinating in public. Funny story; I was walking through Little Italy a few years back with some friends who were visiting, when a stranger came up to me and said "Jenny? Do you remember me? I'm glad you made it home ok!" then proceeded to explain how he knew me. Turns out that during the blizzard that past Winter, I was walking home from the bar and decided to pee between two cars, which is when he happened upon me, and scared me I guess, since I fell into a snowbank with my pants down. Tres embarrassment! He felt bad/was worried and so made sure I got to my apartment ok. I have no recollection of this of course, but what a nice man. My friends probably would have agreed with me if they hadn't been so busy laughing and giving me Seriously Jenny, What Is Your Life looks. That was pretty much the icing on the public pee cake, so now that shit don't even phase me.

- Get caught shitting in public. If this has happened to you, you are most likely a bum and how did you find your way to the interwebs, hobo. Scram.

Boner of the Day

Penelope Cruz! Last night me and the roomie watched "Broken Embraces" and it was so good. Or "muy bueno" as they say in Mexican. And you know what I'm not afraid to admit, lest Gandy and Jenny call me a crazy 'bo? I have a total boner for Penelope Cruz. Here's a sweet titty shot for all you pervs. Her and Javier Bardem? Sandwich please!

Shannie's Music Poo Baw Whatever

Today's musings - I'd rather smell stinky poop then listening to the following bands:

Crystal Castles
I have now listened to 2 songs off of their upcoming album and here's my dos letter review - P U. What a terrible band. Not only does it remind me of the god-awful / occasionally-awesome Oakland raver music of my youth, but it also sounds exactly like the music in those Japanese dancing video games. Dance Dance Revolution, I believe it's called (thanks Gandy). If I wanted that shit's soundtrack I'd go buy it in Chinatown for a buck, not pay $20 to see if live at Irving Plaza. OR MAYBE I'd go to Korea and watch those pro-gamers perform live. Speaking of which, I just looked up some YouTube videos and check out this hot Korean dude. Jenny Hung-Wang totally feels me on this one, I'm sure.

Oh muh guh I just tried listening to their song "Lemonade." That chick's voice had the same reaction on my body as nails on a chalkboard. My nipples went rigid ...and not in a good way, nah mean. Fuck that was terrible. Note to self - never listen to this band again. And you're welcome for not putting a pic of these two up. Shudder.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Shannie's Music Poo Baw Whatever

Gandy told me to start a music blog because I either "bitch about music or praise music a lot." I guess that's one way to say I have opinions. Anyway I already have a blog (hullo, readers) so I'm just going to start touting my music musings on this baby.
Here goes.

LCD Soundsystem - I Can Change
The new album is bueno but this song is by far my favorite. It's so cute and sweet! After listening to it for the 15th time in a row I made the fugde-up of updating my FB status to "how do I get a job working for James Murphy." My boss read that. Woopsie doops! I'm not sure he appreciated the fact that I'd rather be getting coffee for JM than doing whatever the hell I do at this job.

I only recently started listening to this band but they is good.

Oberhofer - I Could Go
For some reason I feel a little pervy listening to this kid but I still dig it.

Fang Island - Life Coach
This band seems like they'd be a lot of fun do drugs with.

Cartoon Boners

This is a retaliation-boner, in response to the teenage boy BOD shout out Shanon gave me earlier. She said the boy young man I found cute on Lost looked like Peter Pan and I said shit yeah, Peter Pan is hot. And she agreed! Vindication, she is mine. In general though, thinking a cartoon character is hot makes me feel funny. It's not wrong per se, but it's like looking at porn whilst at work; you wouldn't be that embarrassed if you got caught, but you still prolly shouldn't be doing it.

Here are my 2-D Boneroos:

Peter Pan. How could you not have a crush on Peter Pan when you were a kid. I unsuccessfully attempted to do my taxes last night and guess what Double P - I don't wanna grow up neither! And when he gives Wendy a "kiss" and it's really a button? Heartbreaking! Of course if he pulled that button bullshit now, I would probs roll my eyes and be all oh great, another homo caught in my fruit fly trap, who am I Shanon?

Tad Ghostal. Fellow nerds will know that by Tad Ghostal, I mean Space Ghost! Because that is his real name, you see. Not only does Tad have a banging body, he has a hilarious talk show that he makes fun of all my favorite nineties celebrities on and when he's not doing that, he's sitting around making fun of his friends. He's like a cartoon Conan O'Brien! I'm gonna go write Jenny Ghostal on all of my trapper keepers.

He-Man. Mehhhhh I don't wanna fuck He-Man. I imagine under that faggy blonde wig he's a nutty old drag queen and if his wig accidentally became disheveled while you were playing with his Sword of Power, he would start crying and run from the room screaming "DON'T LOOK AT ME!!" Plus I'm not into blondes.

Zelda. What's with the "Did I do that" face in this picture, Big Z? Did he just put his joystick somewhere he shouldn't have or what. But yes, elves are hot.

Tuxedo Mask. This is borderline creepy anime territory, but I had to throw Tuxo in here because one of my friends from high school was crazy obsessed with him. She may or may not be a 28 year old virgin.

Trent from Daria. Aw hell yeah, Trent. You can come brood down with me and the Dars any day. A ride in the"Trentmobile" sounds delightful! We can compare terrible nineties tattoos. Trent is more or less the reason I think me and the majority of girls my age enjoy dating slacker assholes so much. Thanks MTV.

Out Of Practice

Last night I had dinner at Freemans with a buddy. I think their food's pretty good (not amazing, mind you) but man are their employees easy on the eyes. I was fairly drunk when we showed up so only got drunker as dinner progressed, ergo I was gettin' sassy with the waiter. At one point I straight up told him I didn't want to see the wine list but to bring me a glass of white that better not be fruity or I would return it. I'm glad he thought my captain demando streak was amusing because by the end of the meal we were so friendly that he brought us free glasses of champagne, my favorite kind! My buddy told me she never gets free shit there and that the waiter totally liked me. I gave her this weird look and practically yelled out, "But he's GAY!"

Well color me stupid but turns out he wasn't and he asked for my info. The point of this story is that I haven't gotten laid in a long enough time that I've completely forgotten what flirting is and apparently think all guys that flirt with me are homosexuals. In other words, I'm available boys, but better tell me flat out you wanna bones malone otherwise Imma think you're a 'mo.