Archive for August, 2008


A first date isn’t two people having a good time.  It’s two people trying to be two completely different people while measuring whether they like each other.  The man spends the night trying to get into the woman’s pants, meanwhile the woman spends the night trying to figure out how to tell him he’s NOT getting into her pants.  It’s all a big waste of time.  And even dating itself is a waste.   It’s really just a waiting game where you’re trying to get them to like you enough to they won’t freak out when you show them who you REALLY are.   The guy who wears his Scooby Doo under-roos  on more than one day if the skid mark is less than 3 inches long.  The girl whose not-quite-ex-husband rides with the Hell’s Angels and just got out of a stint in San Quentin. The dude who takes his brother-in-law’s Mercedes to pick up chicks, and then picks you up in an 83 Tercel with floorboard holes bigger than Fred Flintstone’s. The chick who basically makes out with her Chihuahua, regardless of how recently he licked his own asshole.  (And you never find out until AFTER you’ve given her a good night kiss!)

These are DEAL BREAKERS.   But unless you’re Batman, there’s no way you’re going to know this before you go out with them.  And what’s worse, that’s not even counting all the things that could go wrong sexually in a relationship!  That’s why I think we should be forced to carry around a sexual resume`.   That’s right, a resume’. You need one to get a job at Kinko’s.  Why shouldn’t you need one to go out with someone who may or may not give you herpes?  That case of VD is going to last a hell of a lot longer than the 5.25 an hour you get at Kinko’s.    I mean, even for casual sex, you should know things.  Like to tie unsuspecting men up and then fuck them with a strap on.   Refers to women as “vaginas on a stick.”   Allows her cats on the bed during intercourse.   Thinks the “whole fist in mouth” trick is even funnier in your vagina.  Learned about men by watching Sex and the City. Has a blow up doll with your sister’s picture taped to it.
These are things we need to know!  And if he or she lies on their resume’, you get to keep the house and the dog.
So how might one of these resume’s look?
Bigby Wolf
Location:  *clap clap clap clap* DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS!
Phone:  469-373-7326  (don’t bother calling, it spells INY-ERD-REAM)
Girl History:
~Loree Vaughn;  2nd Grade-  showed her my bits for a nickel and a pack of Juicy Fruit, did not appreciate irony.
~Joey Niceiza;  7th Grade-  First kiss, let me touch her boob.
~Meredith Whedon;  8th Grade-  First girlfriend, went down on her and my braces got caught in her pubes– she beat me up and then dumped me.
~Marina Straczynski; 11th Grade- Lost virginity, first steady girlfriend, tried to stimulate clitoris with ice cubes— DID NOT WORK.
~Misty Fraction;  Senior Prom- Anal Sex (on her)
~De’Anne (name never fully dislosed)-  Freshman year-  Got drunk at Sorority party, had sex in bathroom, got the Clap (fixed it the next week)
~Gina Robinson; Sophomore year-  Bondage, Domination, Phone Sex
~Sue Ellen Ennis; Semester at Sea-  Outdoor sex, Toys, Anal Sex (on me)
~Nicole Brubaker;  Live in Girlfriend- Sado-masochism, Auto-erotic Asphyxiation, Proposed and turned down, Took my dog and gave me Syphillis.
Strengths/ Skills:
Cooking, light mechanical and plumbing ability, types 75 words per minute, sexually aggressive,  well-mannered, well-dressed, no history of abuse, puts out on the first date ; )
High-school, some college
Photography, maybe a teaching degree.
Momma’s boy, moderate jealousy, Star Trek Aficionado, alcoholic, leaves clothes on floor, tendency to use lines like “Nothing says lovin’ like my cock in your oven.”, hairy butt, receding hair-line, cries during intercourse, Syphilis.
Chris “Cougar Killer” Smith
Josh “Tapeworm” Green
Freddie “Boom Boom” Washington
James “The Mormon” Scott
(All can be reached at Donny Vito’s Pizza and Dinner Theatre Palace on 9th and Broadway)


Things You Should Never Say In Bed

Things You Should Never Say In Bed
Things Men Shouldn’t Say:

  1. Don’t lick my asshole, I just had a squirter. 
  2. Oh yeaahhhhh baby!  Fuuuck you’re sooooo tight!  It’s like fucking an 8 year old’s pussy!
  3. Don’t struggle. It’ll only hurt more.
  4. Yeah! Oh, oh yeah!  Oh, I wish my Mother was here!
  5. It’s not that he was better.  Just different.
  6. I wish you had a penis.
  7. How great was it when we fucked on your parents’ bed last week?  No wait, that was your Sister.
  8. Oh god, you’re such a fucking pig! I love it!  Work that ass, you fat tub of shit!
  9. Would it be too creepy if I jerked off while watching you take a shit? 
  10. Mmmmm…. Baby I’m gonna choke you until your eyes go cold and dead.
Things Women Shouldn’t Say:
  1. Is that it?
  2. Oh, yeah!  Just like Uncle Ronnie used to do it.
  3. I used to be a dude.
  4. You should have your penis revoked for that.
  5. I think I’m going to throw up.
  6. I wish you had a penis.  No, that doesn’t count.
  7. Just think of it like a little tail that grows out of the front.
  8. No, it doesn’t happen to everyone.  Just. You.
  9. Let’s get this over with; my next appointment will be here in a few minutes.
  10. Do you want to know how my day was?

It’s Been a Pleasure, Old Friend

We loaded up like buses and rustled in like sheep every Monday and Thursday night.  Much like the Pinochio scene it was based on, we were drawn in by the glitz and the glamour and the smell of debauchery that permeated the air, not to mention the giant welcoming legs of the vivacious Jessica Rabbit.

Ah Pleasure Island…

Disney’s own self-styled mecha of sin and fun.   Back when I was in the college program, we were there every week on employee nights.  It was the place to be, where every night was New Year’s Eve.    The Rock n Roll Beach Club, The 70s Club, The Adventurers Club and Motions.   I can’t recall any specific moments, but I remember dancing the nights away.  It was a kaliedoscope of beautiful women, intense dance music and alcohol.   It was us being young.

The last time I was there was May of 2002.  I always thought there would be other times.   You always think there’s more time.  And now it’s closing.   It’ll be gone by the end of September, replaced by more shopping and restaurants .   And it makes me sad.  It is the nature of man to change as time goes on, but why must it be that we strip away all that is good and unique about a place in the name of progress?

To most of you, it’s just a bunch of clubs.  But to me, it feels like the last chapter closing on my youth.

Nicole, Janae and Josh
Me and Kim

Me and Kim

Nicole, Janae and Heather

Nicole, Janae and Heather

Janae Dancing

Janae Dancing

Go Whiteboy Go!

Go Whiteboy Go!

Dancing the Night Away

Dancing the Night Away

The Boys

The Boys

From a Whisper to a Roar

The days have been slowly crawling by, like the hands of a clock ticking on a bomb.

The desire to leave is near overwhelming.   It like being awake before Christmas morning.  Like waiting for your life to finally start.   And I keep thinking “why?”   Why did it take so long?  Why didn’t I do this sooner?

It’s scary to move on.  To say that there’s no going back and that I’m moving away.   Finally.  Completely.  And part of me is scared to death.  The finality of it scares me. To think that I am no longer a young man, but simply a man.  To know that I will never again know the warmth of my Mother’s protection.   It is the nature of life, but it is a hard thing to lose.

I am scared.

But it’s a good fear.  It’s like something wonderful is awakening inside of me.  And it’s time to let it out.  Right now it is just a whisper.  But it will grow.  Soon it will be more.

Quote of the Day:

“Y’all don’t understand.  I ain’t scared of you motherfuckers!!”

~The late  great Bernie Mac

Miles to go Before I Sleep…

I was reading  this list of 75 things every man should do before they die. To be honest, a lot of the list is sort of ridiculous (number 8: make an omelette).  Some are kind of cool though.

And I’m always thinking about goals and accomplishments. I’ve done a few on my list, including Whitewater Rafting, which is a big one.  So I thought I would take another stab at my “To Do List”.  Here they are in no particular order.

  1. See Australia-  I’m not sure where my near-obsessive fascination with Australia began.  Perhaps it was because my first crush, Olivia Newton John, hails from there.  Whatever it is; the land Down Under has always seemed like the closest place to Heaven on Earth in my mind
  2. Go on a road trip across America-  my heroes have always been cowboys.  Well, not really. Most weren’t but it sounded good, didn’t it?  One of my boyhood heroes was poet Allen Ginsberg, who crammed into a car with a camera and a bunch of his famous bohemian friends (including Jack Kerouac, I believe) and discovered America.   That’s the closest thing I have to a fantasy. 
  3. Ride a horse-  Just because.
  4. Learn to play an instrument (extra points if it’s a guitar)-  Everyone wants to be a rockstar at some point in their lives.  Realistically, I just want to be able to sit around with an old acoustic and play the white man’s blues.
  5. Be the coolest guy ever  (why the fuck not)- not too far from there now  : )
  6. Steal a car-  Yeah, this will NEVER happen.  Not because I’m a coward.  Just because I’m not wired that way.  But it WOULD be awesome.
  7. Drive a race car, especially Formula One- Give me fuel, give me fire, give me that which I desire.  I’ve got octane in my blood.
  8. Ride my motorcycle up a famous highway- First,  I need to actually own a bike.  Which I’m working on.  But then, there are three things I want to do with that bike.  Drive up the Florida and California coasts, and go to the Stugis bike rally, which is supposed to be insane.
  9. Bungee Jump off a bridge-  This is kind of a new one.  It’s a “conquer your fear” thing.  After that I move onto sky diving.
  10. Be thin- just once in my life, I would like to be thin.  I’ve tried.  But I always reach this glass ceiling of 230 pounds, 30 shy of my goal.
  11. Surf-  just ’cause.  I mean, Zack Morris is my role model.
  12. Ski or Snowboard- sounds like fun.
  13. Experience true, all consuming love-  the kind where you can’t breathe when she’s around, and you hold your breath when she’s gone.
  14. Do the impossible- Impossible is merely a matter of perspective.  So if you can accomplish just one thing which appears to be impossible, no matter how small- all things become possible.
  15. Save a life
  16. Make a movie-  I want to see my name under the marque lights- so to speak.
  17. Publish a novel- yeah
  18. Throw a truly raging party-  because I’m bad-ass.
  19. Inspire someone- I want to change the course of someone’s life.
  20. Get  Into a Bar Brawl-  is there anything more manly or rock n’ roll than you and your buddies brawling in a bar with some hooligans??  I think not.
  21. Seduce someone-  hey LADIES!
  22. Make love to a beautiful woman in another country-  this one and 21 both go into that noir-esque mindset that I have, where everything is romanticized and cinematic.  I want to meet a beautiful woman in a foreign land  (Italy, Greece, China, Brazil) and have a movie moment.
  23. Spend two months under a vow of silence-  I would actually do this now if my job didn’t require me to talk to people.  I can’t explain to you why exactly. Suffice it to say, it’s a combination of a spiritual cleansing, and an experiment to see if I could function completely stoic and see how people react to me.
  24. get a tattoo- long time goal. still working on it.
  25. Raise a family-  just something I want someday.
  26. Find my faith again.
  27. Be a model for a painting.
  28. Meet all my myspace friends.
  29. Go on a wild all-night romp across the city that never sleeps, preferably with a cute girl. (courtesy of Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist)
  30. Fight against impossible odds.
  31. Sing on stage with a live band.
  32. Publish my own comic.
  33. Own my own live music venue and/or comic book store.
Sooooooo… do any of you have a list?  I would love to hear them.

How I Almost Got Arrested This Weekend

I thought about titling this “The Power of the Pen”  but it sounded both presumptuous and self important. I could also title this “another reason to leave this fucking state.”  In the end I decided to stick to the point.

Thursday I got a message from a local radio station that I had five hours to pick up passes to the new Star Wars movie sneak preview.  So on my lunch break I hauled my happy ass all the way through downtown traffic and back to get passes.  I’ll spare you the details of that little jaunt.

Saturday morning I woke up despite my exhausted body’s rather astute point that “it’s 8 am on a saturday you fucking mooley!!!!!!!!!”   and drove across the mississippi to the theatre at 9 am.   i stood at the end of a line of about 70 people in 98 degree heat (at 9 am) waiting for the theatre to open.  after half an hour of sweating my ass off, a gentleman with hair that looked like he had just given Courtney Love a mustache ride stepped outside.  he informed us that security was there to make sure we weren’t bringing any cell phones or cameras and if we had any, we should put in our cars now.

so I  got out of line and put my phone in the car, despite the fact that no one had bothered to put these restrictions on the passes and I had now lost my place in line.   HOWEVER, I kept my ipod since I had no one to talk to.

you can guess the next thing that happens.  as I’m entering the theatre,one of the rent-a-cops  (here-out referred to as the monkeys) asked me what was in my hand.

My iPod.

“You can’t bring that in.  You have to put it in the bucket.”  (they had a k-mart storage container with stickers, and they wanted me to put my 600 dollar iTouch in this veritible Fort Knox)

Ummm… no.  It’s neither a phone nor a camera.  (I showed him that there was neither on the device.)

“It doesn’t matter.  You can’t bring it in.”

YES. I CAN.  Do you see those signs?  The ones that YOU wrote and put up?  They say “No Cell Phones.”  This is not a cell phone.

“Heh.  Sir. You heard me. You can put it here or leave.”

Ummm… how about no?  I need to speak to the person in charge.

(Monkey 1 points to Head Monkey.  I walk to Head Monkey)

Are you the person in charge?  Because we have a little problem.

“The man already told you what you have to do.”

Well the man is WRONG.  Do YOU see the sign?  No CELL PHONES OR CAMERAS.  This is not a cell phone or camera.

“Are you going to leave?”

NO.  I want to speak to the person in charge.

“I AM the person in charge.”

NO.  YOU ARE A SECURITY GUARD.  I want to speak to the theatre manager.

“Okay. I’ll get him for you.”  (HEAD MONKEY CALLS POLICE)

What part of “I WANT TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER” do you not understand?  Call all the police you want.  I haven’t broken any laws.  Now I want the manager.

The stupid monkeys were basically useless, so I went and found the manager myself.  I explained the situation and told him I would leave peacefully if he would find out who I can place a complaint with. The manager walked down the hallway to speak to the Universal Studios representative.  As I waited, I saw Monkey # 1 and could not leave well alone. YOU CAN CALL AS MANY POLICE AS YOU WANT.  AND BY THE WAY, HAVE A NICE DAY!!!!!   Kill’em with kindness, ya know?

The theatre manager came back and informed me that even though she wasn’t supposed to, she would allow me in since I had demonstrated that it wasn’t a phone or camera.  I really didn’t feel like seeing the movie at that point, but I said, to hell with it, and went with the manager to see the film.   At the doors, Head Monkey put his hand in front of me, which made me want to rip his fucking throat out.  He said he had already told me I wasn’t allowed in.  The THEATRE MANAGER said that the rep said it was okay.  “Well she’ll just have to tell me that!”  and he stomped off.  Let me ask you, are there any more useless human beings than rent-a-cops? You give some asshole a whistle and a dollar store blazer and he thinks he’s fucking Dirty Harry.

I took a seat next to Fort Knox on a fold out table.  Two minutes later he comes back. “She said NO.”  The theatre manager’s face dropped.  He probably figured this was the part where I was going to do something nuts.  Smart guy.  So he went to get her.

Here’s my problem.  Not only is Head Monkey a big pussy who had to call police to do his job.    He’s also a whiny little bitch.  The woman SAID I COULD GO IN.  But instead of being a man about it, he cried like a little twat until he got his way.

She came out about the time the cops got there.

“Let me explain to you the situation.”

No, Ma’am.  I know what your rules are.  Let me tell YOU what the situation is.   *abreviated version*

~waited in heat

~was told to put up PHONES AND CAMERAS

~harassed by stupud monkeys with whistles and blazers and bad attitudes


~$600 device

~not gonna put  it in a walmart bucket with a sticker that THEY AREN’T EVEN GUARDING

~have not caused a disturbance

~have been completely professional

~told manager I would leave peacefully if I got some contact info to place a complaint

The woman told me she would give me her e-mail.  As she was doing so, the Head Monkey hands her his card in front of me and says “Give  him my card.”   In front of me.  Like I’m not there.  I put my hand in his face. “Dude, you need to get out of here. I don’t want your card.  I don’t need to speak to a rent-a-cop!”  And he walked off like a little bitch.

I got her info and left.  The cops never said a word.  Why?  because I was right.  Because I didn’t do anything.  And mainly  BECAUSE A RENT-A-COP CAN’T HAVE YOU ARRESTED.  It wasn’t Head Monkey’s property.  Unless I committed a crime, the only person who could have had me arrested was the manager.

So fuck him.  TWAT.

Now, most of you probably think that I was being stupid.  I get that.  But you don’t live here.  You don’t see how often shit like this happens.  Mostly I let it go, bc I don’t want to be shot and killed over stupid shit.  But in the words of Popeye, I stoods alls I can stands, and I can’t stands no more.   There’s just some things I can’t let stand.  And I would not let that stand. I have endured too much to be pushed around any more.

I wish I could.  But that’s not who I am.  And thats not the kind of man I want to be.

I placed a complaint this morning.  Not that it will do any good, but someone has to speak up.

Quote of the Day:

“Everyone has a plan, until someone punches you in the face.”

~Mike fucking Tyson

The Geek Strain

There’s all kinds of us in the world today. We’re everywhere, having infiltrated every facet of society from High Schools to Congress to Hollywood. We live among you. One of us may share your bed each night, whether you know it or not.

We’re geeks. And sometimes we have to hide who we are because the rest of the world fears and hates us. Okay… I was being a little melodramatic there for the sake of congruence. But it’s more or less true. You know we exist yet you deny us fervently.

There’s a whole Baskin Robbins worth of geek flavors and mixes. Film geeks, music geeks, art geeks, Star Wars and Star Trek geeks (and never the twain shall meet), D&D and WoW (which is the most fun to say) geeks… and of course my lot… Comic Book Geeks. We’re a special breed, unfathomable and unmatched in knowledge of our love (save for the Klingon-speaking Trekkies.. those people just have issues).

We live in bizarre times, as the mainstream has taken to embracing comics (or graphic novels, as the elitist PC world prefers to call them).  It seems these days everyone is a comic book fan… of a sort.   Strange then that we who love them so are still rejected.  I have a friend who loves comic book based films and sees them as soon as they come out, but considers anyone who touches actual comics to be “nerds”.   He isn’t alone.  Go through random myspace pages.  You’ll see an enormous amount of people with Spider-Man, The Dark Knight, Sin City, 300, Iron Man and X-Men under their FAVORITES; however, they’re all put under film favorites.   On average, most fans of movies such as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Crow, From Hell, Road to Perdition and History of Violence aren’t even aware that they were based on comics.

Yet Hollywood and the world at large proclaim themselves to be unabashed fans.  Another close friend once told me “I’m a Batman fan.  I’ve seen all the movies!  No, I’ve never read any of the comics, but that doesn’t make you a bigger fan than me.”  Yes, it does.  And for the record, he’s never seen Mask of the Phantasm. And suddenly it’s cool to say you’re a Brian K Vaughn fan, because once he got a job on Lost, Entertainment Weekly picked up on his Y the Last Man series.  It’s cool to love Y now, because unlike Spider-man, knowing about the Vertigo series makes you hip and “indie”.  Yes, we have sunk that low.

We, the fans… the ones who made these films viable properties because of their built-in audience… are not respected in the least.   Both Yancy Butler (star of the television version of Witchblade) and Jennifer Connelly (female lead of the first Hulk film) have gone on record as saying that their projects weren’t going to be “comic book-y”.   I find it somewhat satisfying that both projects faired poorly, with Marvel going so far as to ignore the first Hulk film completely in the far superior Incredible Hulk.

On the one hand, it’s a fun time to be a comics fan.   Our favorite properties are finally receiving the attention they deserve.  On the other hand, as Hollywood and the mainstream slowly consume all we hold dear, what is shat out isn’t always what we might expect.  For every Batman Begins, there is a Catwoman.  For every Sin City, there is a V for Vendetta.

So we’re still outcasts.   Branded with the geek strain, that special bit of DNA that causes to get pissed because Jean killed Scott and Xavier in the last X-Men film.  And makes us jump for joy when we find out that David Goyer or our beloved Joss is writing a new script, because they “get it”.   They have the geek strain too.   Yeah, we’re still mutants.   And most of the time I wouldn’t have it any other way.