Inappropriate, inappropriate, inappropriate.
I was trying to "share the love."
If you don't like fart jokes, viewer digressions is advised.
Click here for Day 1 of the bachelor party.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Bachelor Party Part 5: Airports Are Dangerous For Anyone Near Me - or - Take Me To Your House Of... What?
I also learned that people actually do shoot road signs in the middle of the sticks.
Or is it "in the middle of Styx."
Monday, August 25, 2008
Bachelor Party Part 4: A Gas Powered Goodbye
Friday, August 22, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Friday, August 01, 2008
$500 Parking Spot - or - Away I Say Thou Yeasty Swag-Bellied Foot-Licker
When I got home the other night from some much needed excess and relaxation, I thought that I would have to move my car as it was parked on a major street. Parking in my neighborhood is never easy to find and vexes me quite often, except for this night. Much to my surprise, I was legally parked in one of those unbelievably hard to come by and highly coveted, totally free parking spots. It was well lit, in a good neighborhood, across the street from the green house in which I work, in front of well lit fountain dedicated to a surprisingly manly woman named “Peaches”, and all in all a conveniently located and more over an exceedingly legal parking spot. I remember commenting to myself, “isn’t it great that there are still these free parking spots her and there around my neighborhood? It makes my life so much easier, and simultaneously decreases the level of world-suck by ensuring that I won’t get some bullshit $50 parking ticket, which in turn frees up my capital to invest in wind power generators, or solar panel technology, or environmental protection lobbyist, or beers, and as a result make the world a better place for everyone forever, or just me for an hour or so until my twitch comes back."
Regardless.
The next day I went to lunch. I had to deposit a pay check during my half hour lunch break so I phoned in an order at my new favorite deli, piatto pronto while walking out to my car. When I was about 15 feet away, I stopped dead in my tracks. This is why.
Someone in my quickly gentrifying neighborhood practiced an act of random aggression against my car, my new car, the one I just got in October for thousands of dollars that I don’t have. Someone ran a lap around my car, in a well-lit area, on a constantly busy street, scrapping a key against my paint job. Deep. I don’t think that I’ve pissed anyone off this badly, ever. I think it’s a pointless and random act of vandalism against my paint job. Now, I am not a materialistic person, and I try to avoid connecting happiness with inanimate objects but I choose to buy this car and I really like it and I don’t want a scratch circling the entirety of it, reminding me every time I go to my car that some impressively insignificant heap of human bullshit thought that it would be fun to scratch up my paint job. So now I have to shell out the $500 insurance deductible so that it can get repainted. The entire car must be repainted, except for the roof. Yes, every single piece of metal on my car was scratched up by this rancorous douche-ass. My last vehicle was a pick-up truck. I miss that truck. The more dings, scratches, mud, rust, and holes on it, the better it looked. That is not true with the scion. So I have decided to do the noble thing and insult my car’s aggressor with the finest of Shakespearian insults.
To the loathed issue of thy father's loins;
In civility thou seem'st so empty. In fact, thou art i' th' worst rank of manhood. For your offence, thou shall stand in fire up to the navel and in ice up to th'heart, and there th'offending part burns and the deceiving part freezes, thou bootless sheep-biting scut! Bathe Thyself, thou villainous half-faced ruttish flap-mouthed coxcomb! Thou frothy pox-marked nut hook. Thou art a dull and muddy-mettled rascal. Thou art a fishmonger. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it. May the worms of conscience still begnaw thy soul.
Forever yours,
Obsquatch
Regardless.
The next day I went to lunch. I had to deposit a pay check during my half hour lunch break so I phoned in an order at my new favorite deli, piatto pronto while walking out to my car. When I was about 15 feet away, I stopped dead in my tracks. This is why.
Someone in my quickly gentrifying neighborhood practiced an act of random aggression against my car, my new car, the one I just got in October for thousands of dollars that I don’t have. Someone ran a lap around my car, in a well-lit area, on a constantly busy street, scrapping a key against my paint job. Deep. I don’t think that I’ve pissed anyone off this badly, ever. I think it’s a pointless and random act of vandalism against my paint job. Now, I am not a materialistic person, and I try to avoid connecting happiness with inanimate objects but I choose to buy this car and I really like it and I don’t want a scratch circling the entirety of it, reminding me every time I go to my car that some impressively insignificant heap of human bullshit thought that it would be fun to scratch up my paint job. So now I have to shell out the $500 insurance deductible so that it can get repainted. The entire car must be repainted, except for the roof. Yes, every single piece of metal on my car was scratched up by this rancorous douche-ass. My last vehicle was a pick-up truck. I miss that truck. The more dings, scratches, mud, rust, and holes on it, the better it looked. That is not true with the scion. So I have decided to do the noble thing and insult my car’s aggressor with the finest of Shakespearian insults.
To the loathed issue of thy father's loins;
In civility thou seem'st so empty. In fact, thou art i' th' worst rank of manhood. For your offence, thou shall stand in fire up to the navel and in ice up to th'heart, and there th'offending part burns and the deceiving part freezes, thou bootless sheep-biting scut! Bathe Thyself, thou villainous half-faced ruttish flap-mouthed coxcomb! Thou frothy pox-marked nut hook. Thou art a dull and muddy-mettled rascal. Thou art a fishmonger. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it. May the worms of conscience still begnaw thy soul.
Forever yours,
Obsquatch
Monday, July 28, 2008
Monkey Pig Is Made Of Awesome + Extra Chromosomes Of Love - or - I Wonder If It Still Tastes Like Bacon
What time is it? It’s Monkey Pig Time.
Nathan, of Sons of Susan, sent me this link and because I like monkeys and pigs so much, I decided to share it with you.
Villagers were shocked after a monkey-like piglet was born in China.
Curious locals flocked to the home of owner Feng Changlin after news of the piglet spread in Fengzhang village, Xiping township.
"It's hideous. No one will be willing to buy it, and it scares the family to even look at it!" Feng told Oriental Today.
He says the piglet looks just like a monkey, with two thin lips, a small nose and two big eyes. Its rear legs are also much longer than its forelegs, causing it to jump instead of walk.
Feng's wife said the monkey-faced piglet was one of five newborns of a sow which the family had raised for nine years.
"My God, it was so scary. I didn't known what it was. I was really frightened," she said.
"But our son likes to play with it, and he stopped us from getting rid of it. He even feeds it milk."
Neighbours have suggested the couple keep the piglet to see how it looks as it matures.
I love you monkey pig.
Nathan, of Sons of Susan, sent me this link and because I like monkeys and pigs so much, I decided to share it with you.
Villagers were shocked after a monkey-like piglet was born in China.
Curious locals flocked to the home of owner Feng Changlin after news of the piglet spread in Fengzhang village, Xiping township.
"It's hideous. No one will be willing to buy it, and it scares the family to even look at it!" Feng told Oriental Today.
He says the piglet looks just like a monkey, with two thin lips, a small nose and two big eyes. Its rear legs are also much longer than its forelegs, causing it to jump instead of walk.
Feng's wife said the monkey-faced piglet was one of five newborns of a sow which the family had raised for nine years.
"My God, it was so scary. I didn't known what it was. I was really frightened," she said.
"But our son likes to play with it, and he stopped us from getting rid of it. He even feeds it milk."
Neighbours have suggested the couple keep the piglet to see how it looks as it matures.
I love you monkey pig.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Don’t Ask Why, Just Trust Me On This - or - Obsquatch's Crummy Book Club
Go to your bookshelf and find The Catcher In The Rye, I know you have a copy. Read chapter 17, if not the whole book. Listen for the distinct mental “snap” around page 130; you won’t have to listen in too hard, it’s kinda easy to hear. Then empty your bank account and head for hills, like a madman. I love this goddamn book, full of phonies and morons.
Earlier in the book there are some great references to Mark, Verse 5 1-20, that I never picked up on before. I'm not a biblical man, myself, but I dusted off my copy of the Good Book while I was reading this good book. It was worth it.
The next book I'm going to read is probably The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs. It was recommended to me by an atheist.
Earlier in the book there are some great references to Mark, Verse 5 1-20, that I never picked up on before. I'm not a biblical man, myself, but I dusted off my copy of the Good Book while I was reading this good book. It was worth it.
The next book I'm going to read is probably The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs. It was recommended to me by an atheist.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Garfield Minus Garfield
My cousin brought this website to my attention. Garfield, as a comic strip, is much better if you remove Garfield from it.
Here is a blurb.
"Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb."
Here are a few examples of how much funnier, creepier, and honest to the brutality of life the comic strip becomes once you eliminate that pesky main character.
So check out Garfield Minus Garfield and I assure you that you'll rekindle a love for Jon Boy.
Here is a blurb.
"Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb."
Here are a few examples of how much funnier, creepier, and honest to the brutality of life the comic strip becomes once you eliminate that pesky main character.
So check out Garfield Minus Garfield and I assure you that you'll rekindle a love for Jon Boy.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
The Entire List, Truncated – or – Stuff I’ve Done That You Don’t Know About, And Shouldn’t, But Will Soon, Unless You Stop Reading Here.
Since my last post, I’ve…
…Bought six new plants including this doozie called Nepenthes Miranda. It, just like some of my childhood friends, eats bugs.
…Gotten dumped by someone I wasn’t even dating, but would have, but wasn’t. After the whole tiny ordeal was over, I figured out that I’d like to get dumped by people I’m not involved with more often. It makes the whole I’m-sad-because-I-got-dumped thing seem totally blown out of proportion. Meh.
…Flown to California to watch grown men wear armor and fight with swords. I wore a Viking helmet, as did my heterosexual life partner, Dave. We also ate chicken wings. We also got drunk a lot. It was our collaborative 30th birthday party. A different friend of mine, Ollie, celebrated his 30th birthday by getting his real estate license. Watching men on horses joust each other while drinking out of a flagon is more fun than taking test, so I win the best 30th birthday party contest. Ollie will be rich soon, but I’ll still have the memories of knowing that my knight, the yellow knight, was the first knight to die at Medieval Times on my birthday.
…Performed with The Sons of Susan at The Hideout. It was our best show yet. We opened for a band called, The Devil Makes Three, whose newest album has quickly become my go to drinking album. Songs about drinking make drinking so much more satisfying than drinking alone; and always remember, drinking alone is the first sign of alcoholism and I’ll be damned if The Devil Makes Three is gonna make me an alcoholic*.
…Avoided doing laundry. You might ask, “Obsquatch, what do you do about clean underwear?” Well, I’ve been improvising. Everyday is an adventure.
…Finally taken some pictures of the greenhouse at Gethsemane. Take a peek at where I work.
…Played the Jaw Harp, or as I know them, the Jew Harp, into a bonafied multi-thousand dollar microphone, in a bonafied recording studio with a bonafied 48 channel SSL board, for a bonafied rock band’s next album. The monetary value of the gear used during this session easily exceeds $500,000. I bought two Jew Harps for the session for at totall of $14.98. I didn’t know that they came in Alto, Tenor and Soprano; I thought they just went “boing.” Oh how little I know about the chosen people’s harp. The session was bonafied-idly awesome.
…Eaten Taco Bell, White Castle, In ‘n Out Burger, McDonalds, Burger King, more White Castle, Wendy’s, Jack In The Box, and Pizza Hut. Tonight, I’m going to the Handle Bar for BBQ Satan and cheep beer.
To all that are curious, the 2nd Annual Sketchy Mustache Competition marches onward! There is no end date as of yet. Submit pictures and you will be sure to get them posted on this very site. My stache has reached epic proportions and has was trimmed back tonight. Fear not! I only trimmed it back so that I could donate the trimmings to Mustache-tions for Passion, the facial hair equivalent of Locks for Love. Some happy pre-teen with a life threatening condition is slowly and methodically running his fingers through the lushious fibers of his new mustache. It feels good to help heal the world of bald upper lips.
*Thanks for the punch line, Last Will And Testament Of Marlboro Patch.
…Bought six new plants including this doozie called Nepenthes Miranda. It, just like some of my childhood friends, eats bugs.
…Gotten dumped by someone I wasn’t even dating, but would have, but wasn’t. After the whole tiny ordeal was over, I figured out that I’d like to get dumped by people I’m not involved with more often. It makes the whole I’m-sad-because-I-got-dumped thing seem totally blown out of proportion. Meh.
…Flown to California to watch grown men wear armor and fight with swords. I wore a Viking helmet, as did my heterosexual life partner, Dave. We also ate chicken wings. We also got drunk a lot. It was our collaborative 30th birthday party. A different friend of mine, Ollie, celebrated his 30th birthday by getting his real estate license. Watching men on horses joust each other while drinking out of a flagon is more fun than taking test, so I win the best 30th birthday party contest. Ollie will be rich soon, but I’ll still have the memories of knowing that my knight, the yellow knight, was the first knight to die at Medieval Times on my birthday.
…Performed with The Sons of Susan at The Hideout. It was our best show yet. We opened for a band called, The Devil Makes Three, whose newest album has quickly become my go to drinking album. Songs about drinking make drinking so much more satisfying than drinking alone; and always remember, drinking alone is the first sign of alcoholism and I’ll be damned if The Devil Makes Three is gonna make me an alcoholic*.
…Avoided doing laundry. You might ask, “Obsquatch, what do you do about clean underwear?” Well, I’ve been improvising. Everyday is an adventure.
…Finally taken some pictures of the greenhouse at Gethsemane. Take a peek at where I work.
…Played the Jaw Harp, or as I know them, the Jew Harp, into a bonafied multi-thousand dollar microphone, in a bonafied recording studio with a bonafied 48 channel SSL board, for a bonafied rock band’s next album. The monetary value of the gear used during this session easily exceeds $500,000. I bought two Jew Harps for the session for at totall of $14.98. I didn’t know that they came in Alto, Tenor and Soprano; I thought they just went “boing.” Oh how little I know about the chosen people’s harp. The session was bonafied-idly awesome.
…Eaten Taco Bell, White Castle, In ‘n Out Burger, McDonalds, Burger King, more White Castle, Wendy’s, Jack In The Box, and Pizza Hut. Tonight, I’m going to the Handle Bar for BBQ Satan and cheep beer.
To all that are curious, the 2nd Annual Sketchy Mustache Competition marches onward! There is no end date as of yet. Submit pictures and you will be sure to get them posted on this very site. My stache has reached epic proportions and has was trimmed back tonight. Fear not! I only trimmed it back so that I could donate the trimmings to Mustache-tions for Passion, the facial hair equivalent of Locks for Love. Some happy pre-teen with a life threatening condition is slowly and methodically running his fingers through the lushious fibers of his new mustache. It feels good to help heal the world of bald upper lips.
*Thanks for the punch line, Last Will And Testament Of Marlboro Patch.
Friday, July 18, 2008
So Much To Say, So Little HTML
I got older. I celebrated with my buddy Dave in California. Here is proof.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
People With Mustaches - or - Yes! This Is What I'm Freakin' Talking About, People!
I feel like a grade schooler on picture day. Look at these Bad Ass Mustaches! I'm so impressed!
My X-boss, Don Frio enjoying his new line of work.
Caroline, the petite yet powerful, feminine yet scruffy singer for The Sons of Susan.
Jorge Sanchez is a poet, a professor, a father and proud owner of a sketchy mustache.
And, finally, my latest entry into the 2nd Annual Sketchy Mustache Competition.
Caroline, the petite yet powerful, feminine yet scruffy singer for The Sons of Susan.
Jorge Sanchez is a poet, a professor, a father and proud owner of a sketchy mustache.
And, finally, my latest entry into the 2nd Annual Sketchy Mustache Competition.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
It's Just A Lizard...
...Hanging out on a Black Aralia. I named him Harald as he heraled in one of the best and worst weekends that I can remember. I'm sure I'll go into details, just not at 2am.
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