Tuesday, October 16, 2012
I'm calling this Drunk, Stoned & Bike Riding Slimer.
BTW, I have no idea what the artist was going for here. I guess it could be a green football with arms and eyes.
Or it could be a really tired, radioactive kidney bean who like cigarettes.
I have no idea. Go, Go, Ghostbusters!
Anybody else have any guesses?
Friday, October 12, 2012
I've met a lot of trash in my life.
Here's a list of the biggest pieces of trash I've met in no particular order.
1. The pregnant woman I had to cut off from drinking Budweiser. Funny the bar I was working in didn't even sell Bud. She snuck it in, in her purse. She then used that purse to hit me in the head when I kicked her out of the bar.
2. My college neighbor. He was 40. He would drop acid during the day, eat uncooked canned goods and would steal from our neighbors and try to sell their stuff to me and my roommates. I bought CDs off him once. I turned down a Mongoose mountain bike though. Damn, that was a nice bike.
3. Flash. I don't know his last name. He was a camp cook the summer I taught boating. He was on work release. He got caught in a field with $2 million in marijuana, which is why he was on work release. He still grew pot on the campgrounds, not so secretly. Had a cocaine stash and once got put in solitary confinement for calling a rather short prisoner, "a sawed off midget".
4. My cousin. After getting arrested 3 times this summer, mostly marijuana related, he had the nerve to essentially steal a car from my grandparents.
5. Dale the Whale. Kid I grew up with in my neighborhood. He would beat his parents, they were significantly older, until they bought him the toy he wanted.
At one point my mom told me she didn't want him in the house because of his trashiness. So one day we were playing baseball and he asked if he could use the bathroom. I said no because of my mom's comment. So he then took his shoe off and peed in it.
Last time I saw him, he was in working at a convenient store. I didn't buy anything at that convenient store.
6. Mailroom Stacey and his sidekick Mailroom Gary. At one ad agency I worked at we actually had a mailroom. Why it took two guys I don't know. But both guys smoked a SHIT TON of pot. Numerous people would actually buy pot off them. One time we traded a crate of M&M's for a dime bag. (I was just around for the transaction.) Stacey wasn't so trashy. But Gary would wear denim shorts, ball exposing denim shorts. Not cutoffs mind you. Just really short denim shorts.
7. Anybody from North Middletown, KY. If you've never been there—GO! It's the perfect cross section of hog incestuites, dirty nailbedded shit farmers, perm wearing white trash female vagabonds, and slack-jawed, pickled livered fuck ups. It gets my vote for worst town in Kentucky.
8. Steve. (I won't use last names, he was trash but he was kind of a good friend.) He was a rather large fellow with even larger nipples. I mean these fuckers were like coasters and will haunt me until I die. His appearance wasn't helped by the purple shirt that he wore that made him look like Grimace.
He only became "trash" when he got drunk. Which usually led to him punching dorm fridges, kicking out windows, convincing us that his uncle was currently murdering his aunt, throwing up on dressers and not cleaning it up the next day and streaking. He had baby dick syndrome, it wasn't pretty.
9. Cheryl from Wisconsin. Met her through a friend of a friend. She had scabies.
I understand, people get scabies—dirty, trashy, hill people, but still they are people. What made Cheryl trash was how she got scabies.
She worked second shift, as her second job, at a Pizza Hut. One night she gets a call from a dude in a convenient store who wants a pizza. (Why he didn't eat something in the store, I have no idea? Something like, I don't know Pizza?) Her delivery driver was out, so she took it upon herself to deliver the pizza. When she got to the convenient store, she decided to blow the guy behind the counter at the convenient store.
THIS is how she got scabies.
10. Tina. She was a waitress at this hotel I worked at. What made her trash was the fact she broke into an old man's house, tied him up, beat him and robbed him of several thousand dollars of silver and jewelry.
She somehow got work release out of this.
Maybe I need to know less people on work release.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
"No matter how hot she is, someone, somewhere is sick of her shit."
Usually when somebody hands me a loaded gun, I shoot myself in the foot.
Today I'm just going to post this here and leave it at that.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
When you're on the road you see some things. For example, Pink Floyd now has one confirmed male fan who also loves cock.
Pink Floyd to me has always sounded like hot vomit being thrown at an oscillating fan.
Sure there are people out there when you ask them if they like Pink Floyd say, "Sure, they're okay" or "Yeah, I like them." But the weird thing is, I can't fucking find one Pink Floyd Super Fan.
I know people who have collectibles, posters, bumper stickers and t-shirts for other bands like Pearl Jam, Black Sabbath, KISS and even Dave Matthews Band (how does he have any fans left?).
But I can't find one person who has a room dedicated to Pink Floyd. I don't know anybody who has tattoos of lyrics from Division Bell on their arm. I don't even know the last time I saw anybody with a Pink Floyd t-shirt. Hell, Roger Waters played Louisville in June and I don't know one person who went. Nor was a big hubbub raised when he slid into town.
So how does this band still seem to have this mass underground following? Is this one of those bands that only appeals to nerdy high school seniors/college freshmen and 55 year old dudes? If that's the case, is this some kind of weird regression that happens at 55? Do we grow out of Pink Floyd at 21 and the next thing you know we're 55, overweight, sweat pants wearing, Krystal Burger eating, basement dwelling, mouth-breathers headed to midnight showings of The Wall?
Who the fuck is Pink Floyd fan? And better yet, who is the one, the only one, that loves cock too?