tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51287567555719485732024-03-12T21:07:19.877-07:00Twin Cities Tank BlogPetehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-2972196967898775492010-11-09T10:34:00.000-08:002010-11-14T10:31:16.040-08:00Dr. Hook partied way harder than you ever will...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXV742AXQ5wyk2rmUNc9NA-OhKqHbPPQASVJCY3DyfC23tDf7fLimjk_Iji6dRbSu5fqbcvs5Aicy3NnRM7UYle6_HfRUkVvAtD5WeonJMcIjH9QCo3qtoF-PV3rMmN9qEKh4N8AuYNA/s1600/DrHookA_03.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537657685045350162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 209px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXV742AXQ5wyk2rmUNc9NA-OhKqHbPPQASVJCY3DyfC23tDf7fLimjk_Iji6dRbSu5fqbcvs5Aicy3NnRM7UYle6_HfRUkVvAtD5WeonJMcIjH9QCo3qtoF-PV3rMmN9qEKh4N8AuYNA/s320/DrHookA_03.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />
<div>Rock n' roll has always been synonymous with partying. Booze, drugs and punching wives has long been the norm for rock's great ambassadors. In the 1980's Motley Crue, Guns N' Roses and Metallica got paid millions of dollars to do all of the insane shit that people dream of while jacking off in their office. Excessive alcohol and drug use was not only accepted, it was an essential tool in getting the bands onstage every night to plow through another set of the same fucking songs in front of throngs of drooling gearheads.<br />
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The 90's were all about heroin and hating your parents. Not too much in the way of fun but it's hard to top shooting poison directly into your heart in the ripping shit up category. The 2000's saw the rise of recreational prescription drug use which, let's face it, really isn't partying since your little sister is probably doing the same thing right now at horse camp.<br />
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From The Beatles and The Greatful Dead to Led Zepplin and Aerosmith. Black Sabbath and AC/DC to RATT and Poison. Rock n' Roll has boasted it's fair share of righteous party bands. None, however, even come close to Dr. Hook and The Medicine Show. Don't believe me?<br />
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This clip is from a German TV show in the early 70's. Lead singer Dennis LoCorriere has either drank fire from the mouth of a poisonous volcano or he's discovered drugs that no longer exist in this dimension. I honestly can't even tell what substances him and Ray "Dr. Hook" Parker are on. It seems like they're stoned but they have way too much energy. It seems like they're drunk but the music is still tight as shit. Maybe Germany used all the gold fillings they won during the holocaust and created a synthetic, injectable form of gold dust that makes people giggle like Elmo and play kick ass music. We may never know.<br />
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You'll notice that when LoCorriere finally stops laughing and gets the song started keyboard player Billy Francis decides to stop playing and spend the rest of the song dancing around like a fucking maniac. At this point, the producers of the show must have started getting nervous. When people start acting like this it's usually not too long before a dick finds its way out of one of their pants. Unfortunately, since there's no protocol in Germany (or any other country for that matter) for what to do when your musical guest is balls deep into a pscyhotropic meltdown, they just had to cross their fingers and Seig Heil to God that everything would turn out OK. Imagine, less than 30 years after my Grandpa and his good friend Uncle Sam blew most of Germany to high hell, we make them put up this kind of behavior from our American rock stars. Not only does America piss all over our enemy's kitchen floor, we come back a few decades later to rub their faces in it while we do drugs and rock out in their garage. Regardless, this is what rock music is supposed to look and sound like. Long hair, beards, guitars, uncontrollable giggling, retarded elf dancing, bellies full of space drugs and frightened Germans looking for the exit. Beautiful.<br />
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Here's a clip from a couple of years later of them on The Old Crow Medicine Show. Note that their appetites for booze, drugs and yodeling has only increased while their ability to give a fuck has dwindled down to practically nothing.<br />
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Shortly after this period Dennis LoCorriere left the band to go solo and Dr. Hook turned into a soft rock/disco powerhouse, recording hit after hit of forgettable 70's dad rock. For those few years in the early 1970's though, there wasn't a band that could touch them in the field of full contact group partying and, for my money, there hasn't been one since.<br />
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Maybe Britney Spears...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-IHQvzVRZGL-9_1s6SipkTZds5cwYr-ECRrCeKYBI93RNPr_3MbnolFHSwUgo3C6g673wdFYbGDO_svs1ixPIi-7NUlLu9pMY6xb2vj-sNg8jwWVOfJRsXDuIvBn2hm3Y-3tlo06xIU/s1600/Britney-spears-b-day-crazy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537647494189442914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-IHQvzVRZGL-9_1s6SipkTZds5cwYr-ECRrCeKYBI93RNPr_3MbnolFHSwUgo3C6g673wdFYbGDO_svs1ixPIi-7NUlLu9pMY6xb2vj-sNg8jwWVOfJRsXDuIvBn2hm3Y-3tlo06xIU/s320/Britney-spears-b-day-crazy.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-35231307624073750222010-10-06T13:09:00.000-07:002010-11-09T13:08:44.046-08:00Hockey season starts tomorrow...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlo_O_2l2XDs0yjQXOHjiWdBnQHpD28uV7ijdAk2V3FgXlax5Bnqy3r22foFx7txMIVACDuDpTOTemPAa6k0EhZ0PfcZrz8c-Qk-UBUV8gxDl1-f8GKM5YQx3D08VjjantLZhxAiGjYjQ/s1600/Clint%2520Malarchuk.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 269px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525043775285002354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlo_O_2l2XDs0yjQXOHjiWdBnQHpD28uV7ijdAk2V3FgXlax5Bnqy3r22foFx7txMIVACDuDpTOTemPAa6k0EhZ0PfcZrz8c-Qk-UBUV8gxDl1-f8GKM5YQx3D08VjjantLZhxAiGjYjQ/s320/Clint%2520Malarchuk.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>...and holy shit am I excited. I'm 30 years old now and I completely realize that with each passing second I have less and less to look forward to. I won't have this beautiful mane of hair forever. This amazingly toned body will one day fail me. All of my friends will soon fall victim to a wife imposed exile from fun. I won't even have children to help ease me into my twilight years because I fucking hate kids and I'll never have any of my own. Gwar may even break up someday. But hockey will always be here. Always. Like syphillis and The Price is Right. It will always be right there waiting to put a smile on my face with dudes taking bitchin' slapshots and deking the dogshit out of each other. With goalies doing back flips to stop pucks and grown men checking each other into different time zones. With George Parros' ridiculous Deadwood mustache and Alex Ovechkin's butthole sized tooth gap. This will all be here to help widdle away the hours until it's time to buy the farm. As the vice grip of time gently squeezes the will to live out of you and your life becomes so fucking pointlessly boring that keestering a bleach covered rag seems like the only fun left, hockey is there. </div><br /><br /><div></div><div>It fucking baffles me how people invest their time in following football, basketball or...gulp...fucking baseball. Granted, this is all being said with the full understanding that sports themselves are inherently retarded. They're just another in a seemingly endless line of shit to distract us from dealing with our own terrifying existence. On that level, they're completely necessary. But on a fundamental level, they have no bearing on our survival as a species. They offer nothing in the way of answers about our origins or our purpose in the universe. Sporting events rarely have a satisfactory outcome for everyone involved and generally end up just being another reason to wake up in a shitty mood. But life being as god damn awful as it is, we do need distractions. And if you choose to have sports be that distraction, why you would choose anything but hockey is beyond me. </div><br /><br /><div></div><div>Let's start with baseball. First off, you can't legally punch members of the opposing team. That's a huge red flag. Why even watch a sporting event if there's not a fairly good chance that someone is getting punched in the face part of their head? Second, there's no defense. People get emotionally invested in their sporting heroes because they're willing to put themselves through pain that we at home could never even imagine. And for our entertainment, no less. Baseball players may occasionally get hit in the arm with a wild pitch or take a grounder to the balls but there's no physical contact between players. There's no battle of wills. There's no six foot eight, 250 lb. Russian dudes trying to dislocate your asshole. Third, 160 fucking games a year? Are you serious? Every time I see people at a bar cheering for a baseball game in August, I feel the same way I do when I see an Asian person eating at LeAnn Chinn. It's like "Really? Aren't you sick of it by now? How could that <em>still</em> taste good to you?" I like seeing chicks get naked and rub their boxes together but if it happened in front of me every day I'd kindly ask them to get off of my lawn and go fuck in the woods like adults. Fourth, any game that has a designated time to stop and stretch while singing a song that even Raffi thinks is too childish, is not a sport. It's just an excuse for all the players to shower together and wear black eye make-up. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>How people sit through more than five minutes of a basketball game is anyboydy's guess. Any sport that you could relatively dominate without having any legs is just a circus game. I understand that they run around and slap each other on the asses under the guise of "defending" each other but let's face it, if Leiutenant Dan could sit on the court and sink three pointers all day, he could potentially be the greatest player of all time. That says a lot about your sport. Also, if simply being freakishly tall is looked at as a skill, then it's not really that hard of a game. Running and accurately throwing a ball at a stationary target with nothing obstructing it is about as exciting as fucking your couch. Only somehow sadder.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I really don't have any fundamental problem with football other than the fact that it is so mind numbingly boring and slow. Guys are trying like fuck to hurt each other and I respect that but the whole "stand around for five minutes then play for four seconds" thing just erodes your patience. Plus, why are there so many god damn people on each team? If your whole team can't fit on one commercial sized airplane, then guess what? You're two teams. Hockey teams are only allowed to dress 20 players, including their goalies. If they lose two defensemen the other four are getting double shifted the rest of the game. There's not ten other dudes jerking off on the sidelines waiting to come and fill in. How many motherfucking dudes does it take to stand there and not do shit while the other team pretends to make a strategy for throwing the ball over their heads? And out of all pro sports, NFL players seem to have the most trouble not going to jail. If you make seven million dollars a year for playing a couple minutes of grab ass every sunday, why would you even go to a night club? Fucking build one in your own house. And how come so many NFL players get busted for smoking weed in public places? Smoke that shit in your giant house, moron. I know it takes a lot of determination and intestinal fortitude not to kill your girlfriend while she's pregnant but give it a shot. Or better yet, stop barebacking hoodrats you met while smoking weed in a night club.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I would bring up Golf, Tennis, UFC, Nascar and Soccer but I don't know much about them because I don't have a gay younger brother or a businessman husband to explain them to me. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I guess what I'm trying to say is that here's my predicitions for the winners of all the major NHL awards for this upcoming season. We won't know for another nine months how accurate these picks are but one thing is for sure: my hockey boner is ready to explode right now. </div><div> </div><div><strong>TEAM AWARDS</strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>Presidents Trophy:</strong> <em>Washington Capitals</em></div><div><strong>Campbell:</strong> <em>Detroit Red Wings</em></div><div><strong>Wales:</strong> <em>Washington Capitals</em></div><div><strong>Stanley Cup:</strong> <em>Pittsburgh Penguins</em></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>PLAYER AWARDS</strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>Hart Trophy:</strong> <em>Steven Stamkos</em></div><div><strong>Conn Smythe:</strong> <em>Sidney Crosby</em></div><div><strong>Art Ross: </strong><em>Ilya</em><strong> </strong><em>Kovalchuk</em></div><div><strong>Rocket Richard:</strong> <em>Alex Ovechkin</em></div><div><strong>Norris:</strong> <em>Drew Doughty</em></div><div><strong>Calder:</strong> <em>PK Subban</em></div><div><strong>Vezina:</strong> <em>Martin Brodeur</em></div><div><strong>Selke:</strong> <em>Ryan Kesler</em></div><div><strong>Lady Byng:</strong> <em>Pavel Datsyuk</em></div><div><strong>Masterton:</strong> <em>Marc Savard</em></div><div><strong>Lindsay/Pearson:</strong> <em>Sidney Crosby</em></div><div><strong></strong> </div><br /><div></div>Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-63340140412292602382010-09-28T14:30:00.001-07:002010-09-28T19:28:06.976-07:00Twin Cities Tank OriginsPete and Brent met in 2004 when they formed a band by the name TANK! <br />
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TANK! was rumored to be the greatest band in the history of all music, spanning genres and generations, blending milky melodies that pleased the ear, tickled the heart, and created mind movies of such beauty that they would make corpses rise from their graves, only to envision the masterpieces in their lifeless brains before they became overwhelmed and cried themselves back to death.<br />
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Unfortunately TANK! broke up before their first show.<br />
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Bonding over the breakup of TANK!, Pete and Brent spent the following years drinking beer and starting other projects like Dragon Bruiser (AKA The Oklahomos) until 2005 when they started <a href="http://www.metallagher.com"target="_blank">Metallagher</a>: a combination of Metallica music and the Comedy of Gallagher.<br />
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Being in Metallagher forced Pete and Brent to start trying to be funny by writing jokes and bits. The popularity of this band grew like a horse's bladder, waiting to be emptied into a porn star's butt.<br />
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Around this same time, podcasts were beginning to appear on the internet. People listened to them religiously and obeyed the commands of all that was contained within these audio and video releases. <br />
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The world population was soon under control of the most powerful podcast in the universe: Captain Elroy's Sea Friendly Fishing Boat. Human's helplessly and dronishly fetched fish out of the ocean until the ecosphere was completely vanquished and unrecognizable, causing the earth to heat up from lack of acidic fish pee in the oceans. <br />
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When the planet was in its dying hour, two comedic heroes started a chain of events that would rescue the planet and restore society to the greatest era in human history. Those men were Pete and Brent, and the beginning of that chain was the <b>Twin Cities Tank</b> podcast -named from the origin of their meeting, and the fact that they both love drinking and armored vehicles. Captain Elroy no longer had a stranglehold on society as people began to rise up and listen to a new podcast with challenging ideas and glorious revelations that fulfilled the spirit and calmed the soul.<br />
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Time will only tell how much greater our society will be when they listen to Twin Cities Tank, but we are confident that this upward slope will continue until the universe explodes and we all die from our brains exploding after viewing the worm hole that sucks our nightmares out of our minds through our pores.<br />
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Please Enjoy The Show,<br />
Mr. TankPetehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-12366864317851690872010-07-21T10:53:00.000-07:002010-07-21T10:53:38.720-07:00Sign Up For The Contest!HEY!<br />
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We've been advertising this contest of ours for the last month and have a very small amount of people signed up for it. Since the prize is chosen randomly, your odds of winning are VERY good. <br />
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YET every time I mention this, it doesn't seem to change anyone's mind.<br />
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Just sign up. It'll make us feel great and all it takes is one email.<br />
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<a href="http://www.fancypantsgangsters.com/tct/twin-cities-tank-super-loyalty-contest/"target="_blank">WIN A $50 ITUNES GIFTCARD!<br>BUY A SEASON OF MAD MEN<BR>RENT AVATAR<BR>BUY A COMEDY ALBUM<BR>GET A FURGIE MP3<BR>DO THEY HAVE PORN ON ITUNES?</a>Petehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-79458668991559108292010-07-12T13:20:00.000-07:002010-07-16T12:01:17.981-07:00The 10 Greatest Hockey Names of All Time...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SLro-2RhhO64j0jb2vwyESOPdEzwAdNZUTA2qkcnzaplNUqUUQQvHp4I1HKb73qzWuF8FKRL4-AefxrIOipFuQL87IKgVdF6vudXzvPqNi9Sag2D85xqDS1qHy5o7CcKUzdD7yPDF6o/s1600/alc7_kasparaitis.jpg"></a>In order to obtain a more broad public appeal, a lot of famous actors and actresses in Hollywood will publicly, and often times legally, change their names to something more memorable and/or less racially specific. For Example, did you know that Vin Diesel's real name is <em>Vincente Fartpowder</em>? Or that Jean Claude Van Damme was actually born <em>John Rambo</em>? With hockey players though, it's the exact opposite. Whatever your given name is, tack some Z's or Q's onto it, don't pronounce any letters the way you're used to and if you're from another country make sure when translated to english your name conjures up images of things we only do in the bathroom or onto our wife's face. For years the NHL has been helping to reinforce the theory that other countries either don't have an alphabet system or don't know how to use the one they do have. Here are the top 10 examples of why.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div>10. <strong>Radek Bonk</strong></div><br /><div>Well, he does have the word "rad" in his first name but any good will amassed from that is immediately depleted by the "Bonk" that follows. That's like being named Awesome Periodface, only less goth. There's nothing cool associated with the word "Bonk". Well, maybe the noise it makes when you punch a clown in the dick but that's more sad than awesome.</div><br /><div>9. <strong>Kari Takko</strong></div><br /><div>Being from Finland I'm sure Kari Takko isn't even aware of the of existence Mexico or their deliciously diarrhea inducing food products. However, I find it hard to believe that in the 1980's there was anyone alive that wasn't familiar with the Dutch pop star <em>Taco</em> and his unnecessarily gay reimagining of the already overwhelmingly gay 1920's Irving Berlin hit "Putting on the Ritz". Regardless, Kari Takko has no right to ever be confused when someone stops him in the street to make fun of his stupid name.</div><br /><div><strong>Fun Fact</strong>: In 1990 Takko was traded to Edmonton for Bruce Bell in what would come to be known as the infamous <em>Takko-Belle</em> trade. You couldn't make that up if you wanted to. And believe me, you don't.</div><br /><div>8. <strong>Jordin Tootoo</strong></div><br /><div></div><div>I probably don't even need to tell you this but Jordin Tootoo wears the number <em>22</em>. I can't tell if that's a really clever inside joke or a really dumb outside one. Either way, his name means the same thing as those little pink dresses that ballerinas wear and there's nothing I could say about that that he hasn't already heard a thousand times as his head was being stuffed into a toilet full of human feces by scary Canadian bullies. Speaking of human feces...</div><br /><div>7. <strong>Darren Puppa</strong></div><br /><div>Poor Darren Puppa. On paper it's not quite as embarrassing because there's still the glimmer of hope that it could be pronounced "Puh-puh". I assure you though, it's "POOP-Uh". NHL Broadcasters in the 1980's and 90's seemed to take great pleasure in pointing this out too. They would scream it like a safe word any chance they got. I'll bet Darren was one of hell of a rambunctious teenager though, if only because his father couldn't in good conscience give him the "I don't want you doing anything to tarnish the Puppa name...." speech. Too late, Dad. Too late.</div><br /><div>6. <strong>Hakan Loob</strong></div><br /><div>Of all the players on this list Loob was arguably the most talented, racking up 429 points in 451 NHL games. That being said, did you notice that his last name is "Loob"? You know, that stuff that you slather on your dong when your wife's fun hole dries up like someone stuffed a ShamWow up it? I'm sure Swedes have their own word for sexual lubricant but my guess is that it's too long to fit on a jersey and it's so slyllabically challenging that by the time you figure out how to properly pronounce it, your dick needs a nap.</div><br /><div>5. <strong>Frank Pieterangelo</strong></div></div><br /><div>How many god damn names does one person need? Every time the broadcasters announced Frank Pieterangelo making a save it sounded like an Italian father calling his three retarded sons to the dinner table. Strangely enough, his backup goalie was named Mike Jeffdave. Also, no it wasn't.</div><br /><div>4. <strong>Ron Tugnutt</strong></div><br /><div>If you walked into your own house on your own birthday and found Ron Tugnutt masturbating on your own bed, that would still be <em>your own</em> fault. It's not like he didn't warn you. Not since Timmy Jizzlauncher has there been a player whose last name tried harder to warn you of his intentions to whack off onto your belongings. In fact, recent studies show that if you were born in the 1980's there's a 74% chance that it was a result of your mom doing the naked splits into a puddle of Ron Tugnutt's semen.</div><br /><div>3. <strong>Miroslav Satan</strong></div><br /><div>When you play a sport as physically demanding as ice hockey and you have the same last name as the guy that runs Hell, it seems somewhat counterintuitive to disclose to the viewing public that in your home country it's actually pronounced "Shuh-tan". Then again, wikipedia lists Miro Satan's place of birth as <em>Jacovce, TCH</em> which besides being a spell check's worst nightmare is also a complete mystery to most Americans so it would be hard to verify that he isn't in fact the Prince of Darkness. Often times religious dorks say that the greatest trick the Devil ever played was convincing people that he didn't exist. And with Miro's play in the 2008-2009 playoffs, he pretty much pulled that off. Hail Satan!</div><br /><div>2. <strong>Darius Kasparaitis</strong></div><br /><div></div><div>In medical parlance <em>itis </em>refers to any ailment that involves swelling, which is exactly what Eric Lindros' balls did in 1998 when Kasparaitis knocked him out of action for 18 games leaving a Lindros shaped crater in the ice and the NHL with a new favorite Russian name to make fun of. To Americans his name sounds like a liver infection one gets from drinking out of Russian toilets but coincidentally, in Russia the real name for that disease is Gretzkytosis. Or at least it would be if they had actual hospitals with actual doctors in Russia. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>1. <strong>Zarley Zalapski</strong></div><br /><div>If human names were baseball cards, this would be the Honus Wagner rookie card. You could live for a thousand years and never see a better use of consonantal alliteration or 14 letters constructed in a more pristine fashion. Though his name suggests he is from the moon, or even more likely, Narnia, Zalapski was actually born in Edmonton. From 1987-2000 he played for various NHL teams and probably had some success and maybe played well or something. To be completely honest, I have no idea since every second he was on the ice was spent staring at the back of his jersey in awe and wiping tears of joy out of my eyes. In fact, his name was so mezmorizing that all of his stat sheets are just blank pieces of paper covered in the scorekeeper's drool and semen.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-13748356947629088992010-07-07T21:18:00.000-07:002010-07-07T21:44:41.753-07:00Dirty DrawingA few episodes ago I talked about the dirty sex drawings I drew as a child, and Brent asked me to draw one for the site. Well I had a few extra minutes this evening to draw you a quick sketch:<br />
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Click To Enlarge<br />
<a href="http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j116/petestmart/Untitled0-1.jpg"target="_blank"><img src="http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j116/petestmart/Untitled0-1-1.jpg"></a><br><br>(509)Petehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-57226082713969980942010-07-02T00:57:00.001-07:002010-07-02T00:57:56.245-07:00Quitting DrinkingDon't do it.<br />
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Love,<br />
PetePetehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-30693685877720761392010-06-30T08:45:00.000-07:002010-06-30T10:26:10.469-07:00When I was 11...<div>...my mom sent me off to summer camp for a week with a bunch of rich kids I played hockey with. It was in Lutsen, Mn, which may or may not really exist. My fear of defecating in public hadn't developed into the crippling phobia that it is today but using any toilet away from home was still a pretty daunting experience. Side note, being poop shy and having IBS is the reason that the cause of death section on my autopsy report has already been filled in with "Butt Catastophe". Anyway, pooping at grandma's house or, god forbid, at school was one thing but shitting into a haunted outhouse in the middle of the snake infested forest in fucking Lutsen was a whole different animal. Actually, I can't really attest to that. Wanna know why? Because in the eight days I was at camp, I didn't shit. Not once. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I didn't have to. I had to take a duraflame sized crap the first day I got there but as soon as I saw the nazi death chamber they called a bathroom the game was over. An 11 year old boy is already a fully operational diarrhea factory but when you factor in a week long diet of sloppy joe's, jolly ranchers and gatorade that shit factory turns into a full on weapons grade nerve gas warehouse staffed by al qaeda's all star team. The first few days I was able to keep the PSI levels down by farting behind the camp chapel. By mid week though, my butthole was as plugged up as John Goodman's toilet on Thanksgiving. It might as well have had a manhole cover over it. No air was getting out without the entire dam bursting. The two things I learned from this experience were that the pain threshold of a pre pubescent young boy is a lot higher than you would think. The other is that bug spray makes a shitty deoderizer. It might be of some use if you just rocked a typical fart but when you're ass is clogged up with a week's worth of junk food, you are the fart. You're a walking, talking, living, breathing fart. And no amount of mosquito repellent can disguise that. Maybe that's why people stopped talking to me after about the fourth day. <br /><br />When my parent's finally picked me up that saturday they took me to Champp's for a welcome home dinner. I ordered a cheeseburger and promptly pooped my pants right there in the booth. I excused myself to the bathroom where I emptied the contents of my pants, which used to be the contents of my butthole, into the toilet and swiftly through my underwear in the trash. Unfortunately it wasn't the last time in my life that a camping trip ended with me scooping poop out of my pants into the toilet at a suburban sport's bar. I should probably learn how to crap like an adult at some point in my life.<br /></div>Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-91049671341810782702010-06-14T19:56:00.000-07:002010-07-02T00:59:36.684-07:00Tank Inspired ArtHere's a comic strip inspired by 5 Phrases:<br />
Click To Enlarge<br />
<a href="http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j116/petestmart/Twin%20Cities%20Tank/32568_395897756381_841831381_394-2.jpg"target="_blank"><img src="http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j116/petestmart/Twin%20Cities%20Tank/32568_395897756381_841831381_394-1.jpg"></a><br />
by Joe Carlson<br />
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Also an awesome design that we will probably turn into a shirt for you freaks to buy:<br />
Click To Enlarge<br />
<a href="http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j116/petestmart/Twin%20Cities%20Tank/giraffe_tank.jpg"target="_blank"><img src="http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j116/petestmart/Twin%20Cities%20Tank/giraffe_tank-1.jpg"></a><br />
by Schloo from <a href="http://www.flappingcrane.com"target="_blank">The Flapping Crane</a><br />
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(455)Petehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-62429450226220765592010-05-28T10:23:00.000-07:002010-05-28T20:29:54.950-07:00The top 5 awesomest boxing injuries of the last decade...Boxing has arguably the the most strict health and safety regualtions of any professional sport. Extensive physicals and medical examinations are done on each fighter before and after each fight. Ringside physicians are assigned by every commission to monitor both fighters between rounds and determine their ability to continue. Referees are highly trained to know when a fighter is taking too much punishment and to step in and stop it. An ambulance is always present at each fight and ready to transport the fighter(s) to the hospital in a timely manner in the event of a serious injury. Yet, some people still complain the sport is too violent and barbaric and poses health risks to all involved. Generally, these people are referred to as "women". And every time boxing is on the verge of finally convincing these broads that it's a safe and closely monitored sport, someone leaves the ring looking like they got their head caught in a bear trap and the whole argument starts all over again. The following are the top five examples from the past decade of why mothers prefer that their sons become aerobic instructors instead of boxers.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>5. <strong>Edwin Valero TKO 9 Antonio Demarco</strong><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpjM6VJmzI_wOv2UJBejB1onAee70HSTFIw-WP5DUg-bWAvFsuxKLncxgfT2T8fdwxc5vAXRvQml5AV5_TPYKJHMEFknlvRL_Mwm9osaeSQDG0LDwJVq08hb_xa3KoyG19b8Pclh5ChKM/s1600/Edwin-Valero-Antonio-DeMarco13.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476425703572667026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 247px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpjM6VJmzI_wOv2UJBejB1onAee70HSTFIw-WP5DUg-bWAvFsuxKLncxgfT2T8fdwxc5vAXRvQml5AV5_TPYKJHMEFknlvRL_Mwm9osaeSQDG0LDwJVq08hb_xa3KoyG19b8Pclh5ChKM/s320/Edwin-Valero-Antonio-DeMarco13.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div>Upon hearing the news of Valero's death earlier this year, you wouldn't be blamed for thinking it was this cut that killed him. It's very rare that someone gets cut so deep that you can see their thoughts. It's also very rare that someone gets cut this deep and goes on to not only win a fight but dominate it, as Valero did by stopping Demarco in the 9th round. Though it appears to be an axe wound, the cut was actually caused by Demarco's elbow in the second round. The amount of red liquid dripping from Valero's face made it appear as if he was sitting front row at a Gallagher show. Apparently Valero was not at all fazed by the sight of blood as evidenced by the amount of it that likely came shooting out of his wife's neck after he stabbed a knife into it three times on the morning of April 18th, 2010. Though Edwin Valero compiled an eye popping record of 27-0 (27 ko's) inside the ring, he put together a less impressive record of 0-1 versus his sweatpants, which he used to hang himself in his prison cell just hours after confessing to his wife's murder.</div><br /><div>4. <strong>Evander Holyfield</strong> <strong>Tech. W8 Hasim Rahman</strong></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhceNIoyB_MZRIgBIIuqjeVN6DHhDvlaNEPeSD79AiqUELvHYD854G3KElFn1e20jABq0wznjY5xIxJTX_aHvWdAxwFhZ26VHljpTq8coAUNTQrOVswD_a98UmoQbNVWCb8kfPnVLVKymo/s1600/cn.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476425498603192162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhceNIoyB_MZRIgBIIuqjeVN6DHhDvlaNEPeSD79AiqUELvHYD854G3KElFn1e20jABq0wznjY5xIxJTX_aHvWdAxwFhZ26VHljpTq8coAUNTQrOVswD_a98UmoQbNVWCb8kfPnVLVKymo/s320/cn.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div>In the last century or so, modern medicine has turned our world from a primitive, hostile breeding ground for disease, famine and death into a safe, sterile and fertile world where people don't have to be afraid of each other's boogers any more. The men and women who have helped advance our knowledge of health and medicine have been amongst the brightest the human race has to offer and without whom our lives would undoubtedly be shorter and of diminished quality. That being said, it's gonna take a long time before anyone can properly identify what the fuck that thing that formed on Hasim Rahman's head was on the night of June 1st 2002. Some specualted that Rahman was wearing a miner's cap on the inside of his skull while others inquired as to how someone could fight with a snow globe stapled to their forehead. One thing everyone seems to agree upon though is that nobody wants to be around when that thing finally hatches.</div><br /><div>3. <strong>Rafael Marquez TKO 3 Israel Vazquez</strong></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmXnnyK_6ai5b0WxvJPbsMZgohEVnsLapCVl6fZzFqzyj7jJSEh_azTuzfRIOqUn8qEe5yrAgftugTkX0kgdcLWhf-Ae2iUU3tz6EnTFl78bPdK2cxw2vgAE2-BAdeWaTNosWr2-RRCnI/s1600/vazquez.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476418283803332594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 381px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmXnnyK_6ai5b0WxvJPbsMZgohEVnsLapCVl6fZzFqzyj7jJSEh_azTuzfRIOqUn8qEe5yrAgftugTkX0kgdcLWhf-Ae2iUU3tz6EnTFl78bPdK2cxw2vgAE2-BAdeWaTNosWr2-RRCnI/s320/vazquez.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>In 2007 and 2008 Israel Vazquez and Rafael Marquez engaged in a sensationally brutal three fight trilogy that some describe as the best in boxing history. Marquez took the first fight after a broken nose caused Vazquez to retire on his stool after six rounds. Vazquez however took the next two insanely violent encounters and in the process almost lost an eye. After taking over a year off from the sport, presumably to have an extra layer of skin grafted to those things they call their face, the two fighters met for a fourth time less than a week ago. Vazquez, who now begins bleeding from his face on the drive to the arena, was cut almost immediately. And as if his eye was trying to send a message to his head that it no longer wanted to be punched in the retina anymore, it decided to drip every ounce of blood from his forehead directly into his cornea, effectively rendering him blind until Marquez stopped him midway through the 3rd round. Due to the size of the cut, doctors were forced to perform an experimental procedure in which they inserted a needle into one side of the wound and FedEx'd it to the other side and waited for it to return days later. This was repeated numerous times until doctors were finally able to identify Vazquez's face as that of a human being.</div><br /><div>2. <strong>Lennox Lewis TKO 6 Vitali Klitschko<br /></strong></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwP2or7IAnlXLrMvnwB7j5jmv7E2pg0-i6RJHp-hR-64JDfEP1GiWKfo6i3MG7vAZgcwjn3MtjHBZV-LzFeTLIOICpFycQa7-jAP8uatVIn0dTxirePL2n_NNeFfH96Qusl5YTdAYBHw/s1600/vitalik2003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476424668340779650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 209px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwP2or7IAnlXLrMvnwB7j5jmv7E2pg0-i6RJHp-hR-64JDfEP1GiWKfo6i3MG7vAZgcwjn3MtjHBZV-LzFeTLIOICpFycQa7-jAP8uatVIn0dTxirePL2n_NNeFfH96Qusl5YTdAYBHw/s320/vitalik2003.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikEuxOKjnxS9WaJWka0xSyeU6_-P8WyE5BOSXIXGsTKWW5gc51pGeRBWs8GLW1G2j1wcEoqPwOOPhf3-WGVh6WtHx8hzGBW8c6U3R0OdvV8WKo6wgsIb2KgxPO5ZOaC-n2mSUyWhmSYus/s1600/Klitschko_Vitali_cut_eye_Lennox%20Lewis.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476424887661264210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 223px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikEuxOKjnxS9WaJWka0xSyeU6_-P8WyE5BOSXIXGsTKWW5gc51pGeRBWs8GLW1G2j1wcEoqPwOOPhf3-WGVh6WtHx8hzGBW8c6U3R0OdvV8WKo6wgsIb2KgxPO5ZOaC-n2mSUyWhmSYus/s320/Klitschko_Vitali_cut_eye_Lennox%2520Lewis.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br />As if we already didn't have enough proof that Russia was creating and harboring cyborgs, along come the Klitschko brothers, Wladimir and Vitali. While Waldimir was considered the more talented of the two, it was Vitali who earned a place in the hearts of boxing fans by submitting his entire face to a scientific experiment in which doctors aimed to learn how many times it could be punched by Lennox Lewis before falling off completely. Turns out, the answer to that question is "a lot". To be fair, the hell that broke loose under Vitali's eye didn't accurately reflect how well he did in the fight. He was up on all three scorecards at the time of the stoppage and vehemently protested with the referee not to stop it, at which point the ref held up a mirror to Vitali's face and said "There's nothing left for him to break on your head. In America, that means he wins."<br /><br /><div>1. <strong>Antonio Margarito TKO 10 Sebastian Lujan<br /></strong></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjADoMqdqKJJpdix_WmlhRpPpBZUTPppmyGn2DmporLZHrCxqoo4Wb8tl-1Bt0hYAT81ELSn_uYklSEu5wNLugmyAOQFrwgwBiXC2kAhXhavU1y2GEuaTqZB0P4aWY4ID6wYNgZc2GMV88/s1600/margarito014_448319437.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476429138566508578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 348px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjADoMqdqKJJpdix_WmlhRpPpBZUTPppmyGn2DmporLZHrCxqoo4Wb8tl-1Bt0hYAT81ELSn_uYklSEu5wNLugmyAOQFrwgwBiXC2kAhXhavU1y2GEuaTqZB0P4aWY4ID6wYNgZc2GMV88/s320/margarito014_448319437.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br />When Antonio Margarito threatens to box your ears off, he fucking means it. Just ask Sebastian Lujan, who in 2005 became the first boxer in history to leave the ring with his ear in a wheelchair. Lujan held his own for the first half of the fight but as Margarito began to take over in the middle rounds, Lujan's ear decided to make a run for it. Some observers recall hearing the ear say "If you're not going to protect me, I'm just gonna leave. See you in the car." Some fighters careers are stunted and cut short due to a glass jaw. Imagine Lujan's surprise when he found out the hard way that he has a glass ear. In Lujan's defense, Margarito was caught before a fight with Shane Mosley in 2009 with plaster of paris in his hand wraps. We can only specualte as to whether Margarito's knuckles were cemented in his fight with Lujan but when you consider that the one ear that fell off in a prize ring in the 00's did so at the hands of the only guy to be suspended in the 00's for putting asphalt in his gloves, it's kind of hard to believe the playing field was level that night. Regardless, Lujan's career continued but he was never the same again. And thanks to Margarito, he could only hear the ring announcer declare him the loser through his right ear. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-27458893594451116962010-05-26T13:00:00.000-07:002010-05-26T14:44:38.995-07:00Predicting the future of fatness...According to a randomly googled site on the internet that I quite honestly had trouble reading, I am overweight. There's obviously varying degrees of being overweight and I'm quite sure that the alien sex wizards who control the diet pill industry heavily influence the numbers to help lower the curve and in turn sell more organic dung slushees, yet I can't help but agree with the numbers. I have a very unhealthy relationship with food and booze that has only grown more voracious as I approach the age of 30. We exist in the same symbiotic fashion as the Ouroboros, the ancient symbol comprised of a snake eating its own tail. Food's existence is validated solely by a person's willingness to ingest it and I am, more often than not, all too happy to volunteer my services. Honestly, every meal I eat mirrors that of a recently rescued shipwreck victim. It's always been this way. I'm the only person I've ever known who didn't eat meat for six years and somehow managed to <em>gain</em> weight. A lot of this is due to a deteriorating metabolism and an almost allergic type reaction to exercise, not to mention a nearly olympic style ingestion of alcohol. This too is a gift as well as a curse. <br /><br />I started my drinking career around the age of 15 but with the tolerance level of a 66 year old drunken sea captain. It has led to countless wasted calories and untold fortunes in bar tabs, the ensuing depression of which was quickly consoled at the sight of a shoebox sized serving of buffalo wings. I have no shame about my food consumption nor my weight. I think any fashion choice that is not entirely practical, ie. tattoos, piercings, jewelry, cologne and yes, toned bodies, are simply vanity and therefore useless. I have no desire to be attractive or fit, strong and healthy or in any way physically appealling. I simply enjoy the taste of food too much to turn back now. That being said, a quick mathematical equation will show that the future does not look good for my already food-ravaged body, let alone my current wardrobe. A quick glance at my two previous driver's licenses will show the rapid rate of descent to my physical health. Here we go. <br /><br />My license at 16 shows a fresh, boney faced kid ready to kick the world in its face's ass and show it who's boss. It lists my height at 6' 1" and my weight at 160 lbs. Not too shabby at all.<br /><br />Cut to 2005. A little more hair on my face and little less room to maneuver around my chin area. Still, a youthful exuberance stares back and a jaw line is clearly visible. Height is now a towering 6' 2" and my weight has blossomed into a full figured 190 lbs. <br /><br />Now to the present. Mr. Shit, meet mr. fan. I am still a sexy 6' 2" but we've cracked 200 in the weight department and peaked at a flabby yet mobile 215 lbs. <br /><br />So let's add it up. Age 16 to age 25 we went from 165 to 190, for an average of roughly 2.8 lbs a year in weight gain. Not terrible. From age 25 to 29 we went from 190 to 215 for an average yearly gain of nearly 6.25 lbs. Not cool, Zeus. So let's assume that I've peaked and I will, at some point set foot inside the fitness center that is located on the first floor of the building I've lived in for 2 years, and combine the two numbers and come up with a mean of roughly 4.525 lbs a year. Where will I be in 30 years?<br /><br />30 x 4.525 = 135.75<br /><br />So, (current weight at 29 years of age) 215 + (weight gain over 30 year span) 135.75 =................holy fucking 350.75 lbs!<br /><br />Here's a short list of people I know of who are 350 lbs:<br /><br />Bam Bam Bigelow (Dead)<br />John Goodman<br />John Candy (Dead)<br />Chris Farley (Dead)<br />Norm from Cheers (getting close to dead)<br />and so on...<br /><br />This is not good. Why do I get the feeling that one day I'll be having one of those What's Eating Gilbert Grape moments with my kids?<br /><br />".....I wasn't always this way, you know?"Twin Cities Tankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494060670823384181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-83262335895818983722010-05-25T10:42:00.000-07:002010-05-25T10:55:31.444-07:00If I was a crime lord......and I got called to appear in front of a senate hearing regarding my various monkeyshines and tomfoolery, I would answer every question they asked me by slowly sitting forward, pensively staring at my clasped hands resting on the table in front of me and then after a second or two, do that thing where you make a "V" with your index and middle finger while wiggling your tongue in between it to connote cunnilingus. Eat my balls, justice system. I got crimes to do.Twin Cities Tankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17494060670823384181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-80341933382308539532010-03-16T14:47:00.000-07:002010-04-26T18:54:33.310-07:00My Blackberry is a fucking asshole...Say you're in a some kind of underground, thunderdome-esque, full contact, trivia contest of death and the final question you need to answer to gain your freedom is "how much do farts weigh?" Stay with me. Due to your spectacular performance in the first part of the contest where you breezed through the questions pertaining to Batman's dick, the mating habits of peanut butter and the origins of the international mashed potato wrestling league, you earned a set of life lines to help you answer the question of how much farts weigh. These life lines consist of one odorless Mr. Yuck sticker, a miniature golf scorecard autographed by Kirby Puckett's wife, a Blackberry with full internet capabilities and an empty mayonnasie jar sitting on an one of those old fashioned scales that they use to weigh boxers with. Which of these items is going to help you answer the question of how much a fart weighs in the time alotted, which I've just decided is ten American minutes? If you said the Mr. Yuck sticker, you're fucking creepy. If you said the Kirby Puckett mini golf scorecard, you're fucking creepier. If you said the $250 Blackberry cell phone with full internet capabilities and access to google, the world's fastest seach engine and foremost reference for information, you're just plain fucking dumb. Nope, under these cirmcumstances your best bet would be to weigh the mayonnaise jar, pull your dumpy butt out, rock a fart into the jar, weigh it, subtract the weight of the jar, turn your answer in to Rygor the Trivia Demon and then wave to all your friends spending eternity in his haunted slave pit because they opted to use their Blackberry in a trivia game with a set time limit. <br />
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Seriously, if I wanted to wait ten minutes for the internet to access <a href="http://www.wilfordbrimley.com/"target="_blank">www.wilfordbrimley.com</a> I'd go to my parents house. In 1995.Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-564648898970526782010-03-11T12:44:00.000-08:002010-03-11T12:52:39.110-08:00Porn Sites Need To Learn Subtlety<i>A wise 18th century novelist once said, "If you can't think of anything good to write, write about your dick." <br />
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If you have no interest in what type of porn I look at/peripherally come across, then I'd suggest you stop reading this right now.<br />
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For the rest of you, WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH PORNO SITES, EH?</i><br />
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Too much of a good thing results in a bad thing. We've all learned this on those childhood Easter mornings when we couldn't make it to church because we ate so much chocolate for breakfast that we spewed all over our dad's lap. Yet pornographers seem to miss this concept when they are filming their videos and taking their pictures.<br />
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It's difficult to find what you're looking for if you're not a weird fetishist who is into the most extreme end of what you're looking for. Searching for what you want becomes a science.<br />
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For example, if I'm interested in seeing an attractive woman in her underwear, I can't just do a google search for "attractive women underwear." This isn't disgusting enough for google to recognize. This search mostly results in sites that sell women's underwear. I have to throw the word "porn" in there somewhere. Now I'm faced with a different problem. When I search "attractive women underwear porn" I end up with the other extreme. <br />
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What is that extreme, you ask? Guys who want to <i>fuck panties.</I><br />
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When did that become a thing?<br />
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When did we go from "I find this very attractive" to "I'm going to fuck the thing that makes this attractive?"<br />
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If you include the words "panties/underwear/etc.." and the word "porn" in your search, you end up with pictures and videos of girls wrapping their panties around a guy's schlong and jerking him off. Why do pornographers feel the need to have very little to absolutely no in-between? If I saw a girl in an attractive pair of jeans, it's still THE GIRL I'm attracted to. I don't want to rip her jeans off and fuck the pocket.<br />
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The same thing happens with ASS. You can't search for "nice ass." This is probably because everyone's interpretation of "nice ass" is different. However, the majority of what you end up with is, again, the extreme. You have pictures of GIGANTIC asses, which are typically being fingered, fucked, and dildoed. Where is the hot girl with a little meat on the ass? Everything has to be huge and have a dick in it.<br />
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Cool your jets porno sites.<br />
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I'm not asking for much. Just give those who like straight-ahead screwing to find what we're looking for. Maybe we need to invent some new terms. I lobby that we start including the word "non-wonky" for all things that fall inside the realm of non-fetish, average size and height, porn. Then I can search "non-wonky women in underpants," and I won't end up with a leper orgy of women doing backflips onto a pile of jizzy underwear in the mountains. <br />
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Let's get back to our roots.<br />
<br />
(217)Petehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-10124420237620837762010-03-08T12:24:00.001-08:002010-03-08T12:24:42.841-08:00Don't Be Friends With Your BossHere's an out-take from our last episode with Andy Hart:<br />
<br />
<object width="320" height="265"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4qmU-8CU9lE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4qmU-8CU9lE&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object>Petehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-81437148676886831612010-03-02T06:31:00.000-08:002010-03-02T06:31:00.282-08:00F'ed In The Arby'sThese days, every asshole that owns a web site wants you to sign up for their newsletter. They'll even go so far as to try to trick you into subscribing by putting one of those annoying, pre-checked boxes before the Terms of Service agreement.<br />
<br />
<img src="http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j116/petestmart/Twin%20Cities%20Tank/squeezbacon2.jpg"><br />
<br />
I would love to take time out of my week to read about the new upcoming fuck-face musician that is featured in this month's myspace newsletter, but I'm too busy with this Hulu newsletter and cleaning the onion rings out of my dick with a pipe-cleaner.<br />
<br />
So you'd think that if someone was <i>actually</i> interested in signing-up for one of these e-mailing lists, without having to be fooled, it would be kind of a big deal. You may even want to send out an e-mail once in a while. You hear that, Arby's Extras?<br />
<br />
I came home from work one day, and I WAS TIRED. I didn't want to think about making food, so I logged onto Arbys.com to see where the closest Arby's was located. I saw their promotional e-mail list that offered coupons and thought to myself, "I'm ready for this. I want these coupons." Sign-up came with a promise of regular coupons and deals that weren't offered to anyone else. So I signed up, got a coupon for free mozzarella sticks, went there, and enjoyed them. <br />
<br />
"Hmm," I thought, "maybe they'll keep sending me these coupons and the next time I get lazy enough to eat here again, I'll have an array of coupons to pick from, or at the very least, have the <i>same</i> coupon."<br />
<br />
No such luck.<br />
<br />
Last night I didn't feel like doing a fucking thing, and decided to log-in to the e-mail account that I never use: the one that I gave to Arby's. As I unlocked the treasure chest of mozzarella and roast beef coupons, I found an entry form for a competition that Arby's put on two months ago... and that's it. <br />
<br />
Arby's extras? You fucked up. There's nothing extra going on here.<br />
<br />
So I picked up my shame and headed over to the stupid Arby's anyway, just to order off of the dollar menu. <br />
<br />
"I'm gonna get some kind of deal out of this!" I screamed at the moon.<br />
<br />
I ordered my "food" and sat down to listen to podcasts and eat. As I finished, I noticed that the paper place mat on the tray had some coupons on it. "Alright," I thought, "maybe Arby's isn't such a fucked up place after all. I'll leave with these five coupons, and maybe I'll use them later."<br />
<br />
Then I read them.<br />
<br />
'1 Cent off of a Beef n' Cheddar Combo'<br />
<br />
'1 Cent off of a Market Trashwich Combo'<br />
<br />
'1 Cent off of another fuck burger comboWHAT<b>THE<font size=3>FUCK???</font></b>'<br />
<br />
Who the fuck do you think you are?<br />
<br />
You make $5.01 combos, so you can shave that one penny off? Who is running this marketing campaign? I would have been better off not knowing that you went to the trouble of printing and distributing 1 cent coupons. Talk about a slap in the face.<br />
<br />
That's like offering soup to homeless people just so you can pour it in their hair.<br />
<br />
You fucked up, Arby's. Fucked Up.Petehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-41987093630219668222010-02-25T03:53:00.000-08:002010-02-25T08:06:07.553-08:00Ask Andrew W.K.Every Blog I've ever had has had this entry. It bears repeating.<br />
<br />
This is a question that I asked Andrew W.K. on his old "Ask Andrew" forum. It's important to note that the screen name that I was using on this forum was "Velcro Slip n' Slide."<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Question:<br />
Andrew - I love jelly beans. How many jelly beans could you eat in one sitting?<br />
<br />
Answer:<br />
Dear Velcro Slip n' Slide, <br />
<br />
This is a great question! If I conditioned myself for a few days, by eating large meals infrequently I could probably strech my stomach out enough to swallow at least 5 pounds of jelly beans. I guess it depends on what kind of jelly bean it is. You know? Like what size... the big kind, or the small ones like Jelly Bellies? I think ' the small ones are better, plus Jelly Bellies have so many different flavors, that would make it more interesting and fun. Do they have a steak flavored jelly bean? They really should. Candy that is savory and not sweet is awesome! Like the chicken and rice flavored gum! So, it depends on how long of a sitting I get to eat all that jelly gum! All day? A few hours? A few minutes? You know? So anyway, I think I could pack away an awful lot of beans, especially if I had some water and maybe something else to help clean out my taste buds... somethin' spicy. By the way, your name is awesome! I don't think I've ever seen a velcro slip n' slide, I guess because it wouldn't work too well... but they do make those velcro walls - you wear a big velcro suit and then you jump into the wall and you stick to it! They have it in the Disney movie "The Blank Check", which is an awesome movie! Anyway, thank you for your question! Take care! <br />
<br />
Your friend, <br />
Andrew W.K.<br />
<br />
<img src="http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j116/petestmart/04_andrewwk_lg.jpg" /><br><Br>(127)Petehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-51008569170136974952010-02-24T08:21:00.000-08:002010-02-24T09:20:37.754-08:00My grandpa was a shitty cook...When we were younger, my mom would dump my brother and I off at my grandparent's place for a week or so at a time while she took some personal time to space the fuck out and forget we existed. Both of my grandparents were wonderful people and took great care of us. My grandpa showed us how to shoot guns, shoot guns at animals, skin animals that you've shot and how to play checkers. My grandma showed us how to accept hugs and be loved unconditionally around the clock. It was a yin/yang type of situation. My grandma also happened to be a sensational cook. She could make anything you could dream up and make the shit out of it. My grandpa, however, was a piss poor cook. He was diametrically opposed to preparing food that tasted good to anybody. Granted, he grew up during the depression when rationing was a way of life and a sauteed bungie cord was a delicacy. Actually, you know what? That was no excuse for some of the shit he made. There were mornings when my grandma would leave early for work and he would be in charge of Frankensteining a bunch of shit together to call a meal for us. On more than one occasion he fixed us Milk Toast. Wanna guess what that was? I'll save you the suspense: milk poured onto a piece of toast. The word "toast" is actually deceiving since it was just dry, uncooked bread. Given access to milk, bread and a kitchen, even an orphan would be able to wrap his head around the concept of toasting the bread and putting the milk in a glass. Like a human being. My grandpa would literally put a piece of Wonder Bread onto a plate and dump milk onto it and feed it to young children. If he happened to notice that we weren't in fact stray dogs and therefore not particularily enjoying the milk toast, he would implore us to simply put more milk on it, which is like pouring more pee onto your diarrhea salad. Needless to say, we went hungry a lot of mornings which generally lasted through lunch time when the menu dead seriously consisted of spam and onion sandwiches. These are things that people eat when they run out of sawdust and paperclips or after their taste buds commit suicide. It was nice to find out that the trend continued when my younger brothers were the same age. One morning he made them scrambled eggs with chunks of pickle in them. Did you know that if you reanimated Julia Child's corpse and asked her if there was any way possible to fuck up scrambled eggs she would say "No. Fuck no. Well, unless you put chunks of pickles in them. But what kind of sick fuck would do something like that?"<br /><br />My grandpa. That's who, bitch.Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-88456835174294978742010-02-23T03:49:00.000-08:002010-02-23T03:49:00.244-08:00FoodFood. It exists, and we eat it. <br />
<br />
We live in America: a place where there is so much food that even the dumpster squirrels that live in the back of my building are sweaty and fat. So why the hell is it such a damn problem for some people to eat it?<br />
<br />
Let me just put something out there right now: FOOD IS AMAZING.<br />
<br />
All food.<br />
<br />
I want to eat it all.<br />
<br />
One of the most frustrating scenarios that comes up from time to time is when I have to help decide where to eat with my friends or family members. I can't understand why people refuse to eat certain things. I know people that won't eat vegetables. I know people that won't eat meat. I know people that won't eat fake meat. <br />
<br />
People that won't eat at buffets.<br />
<br />
People that won't eat at corporate restaurant chains.<br />
<br />
People that only eat hamburgers.<br />
<br />
People that won't eat red meat.<br />
<br />
People that don't eat fish.<br />
<br />
People that don't like Mexican Food.<br />
<br />
What<br />
<br />
The <br />
<br />
Fuck?<br />
<br />
I promise this to everyone right now: if you invite me to a restaurant, and I can afford to eat there, I will fucking go. End of conversation. Who cares what they have? There isn't one goddamn thing on the menu that you can't stuff in your dumb mouth and choke down your crybaby throat? STOP IT! You're an adult!<br />
<br />
If you don't like something, eat it until you do. Eat everything. I don't care if it makes you physically sick, just eat it.<br />
<br />
I eat everything. I eat cereal for at least 10 of my meals during the week. I've lived for years off of barbecue chicken breasts, toast, and eggs. I once ate a boloney sandwich with Eggo waffles in place of bread and dipped it into nacho cheese. I hated every second of the experience, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. It was hilarious. I once ate spaghetti noodles covered in barbecue sauce for dinner. I've knowingly eaten canned dog food because it looked good. <br />
<br />
It wasn't.<br />
<br />
There is no logic to be connected here. We live in a country filled with so much food that you are allowed to eat like a six year old. <br />
<br />
That's not okay.<br />
<br />
The world is not pizza. It's not meat. It's not chips, spaghetti, Funyuns, tofu, soy sauce, spring rolls, or Play-Doh. It's all of these things. These are wonderful gifts given to us by the food ghosts that live in the basement of the food pyramid. They watch us eat our balanced meals, and cry when we shy away from Omega-3 Fatty Acids and refuse to eat carbohydrates. They become physically ill when they watch us become anorexic or just throw up our dinner after a night of binge drinking. They sacrifice their eternal souls to that balanced pyramid and slave away so that you can eat your 5,000 calories a day, let your dog lick the plate clean, and have enough left over to throw away so that the raccoons, squirrels, and maggots can have a taste of your Chef Boyardee with those things that almost look like meatballs.<br />
<br />
Derek says it's always good to end a paper with a quote. He says someone else has already said it best. So if you can't top it, steal from them and go out strong. So I picked a guy I thought you'd like.*<br />
<br />
"Just Eat It"<br />
-'Weird Al' YankovicPetehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-85232665259693855292010-02-19T06:29:00.000-08:002010-02-19T07:08:23.808-08:00Excerpts from my 10th grade journal: Vol. 1<div>You can probably tell this just by looking at me - by the way, stop looking at me - but I like to rock. God damn do I like to rock. I like to rock anywhere and everywhere. In the shower, at Petsmart, in the streets, the bathroom at Ryan Phillipe's house, Castle Grayskull and just about anywhere else that has clean towels. Do you like to rock? We should rock out sometime. Maybe we could start a band. That would be awesome! I've always dreamed of being in a real rock n' roll band. Or maybe even a grunge band! My cousin Cal took guitar lessons when we were kids but he gave it up to focus on masturbating. I wonder if he still has that guitar? Maybe Cal could be in our band! If I was in a band I would want it to rock so hard. I would make sure that everything we did rocked. I'd have a guitar shaped like a tank but it would also turn into a beanbag chair so we'd have somewhere to chill out after we got done rocking. When I chill out, I chill the fuck out. Do you like to chill out? What do you like to eat when you chill out. I know this is pretty obvious but when I chill out I love to eat shark jerky. It's true. I'm an adventurer. One time I ate an entire beehive just to remove a curse from my grandma's pantry. I've always thought that was a funny word. Pantry. It sounds like panties except you keep food in it. I wish I could meet a nice girl who kept food in her panties. That would rock! Which reminds me, are we still on for rocking this weekend? I got a couple of errands to run in the morning but I should be done by 2:00 or so. What kind of errands? I'm glad you asked. I have to get a boner and then smack it with a fly swatter. It's not so much for medical reasons as it is just for good luck. Hopefully some of that good luck will rub off on our rock band! What instrument do you wanna play? I've always thought of myself as a singer. People tell me I sound like a huge fagfucker when I sing but I'm sure that's what Robert Plant's friends all said to him before started his band, Ted Nugent. I always thought it was weird that the band Ted Nugent was named after Adolf Hitler's dog and it's not actually a real person. Oh well, I guess that's none of my business. But what is my business is rocking. And I'm gonna make it your business too. If you wanna get this band going it's gonna take a lot of effort. On your part. I probably won't have much time to dedicate to it. Between my toilet hunting business and working at my dad's toad farm, I can realistically probably only do saturdays. That's cool though. I'll still rock out with you on my days off. Not so much with you but with your wife. She's always struck me as someone who doesn't fully understand how big her tits are. Oh shit! My aunt just died of starvation. I gotta go.<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-29850514368248420122010-02-19T03:19:00.000-08:002010-02-19T03:19:00.665-08:00The Tale of Adams College<span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">In the eighties, there was a not-so-well known city that housed one of the finest institutions in the country: Adams College. Adams was a prestigious school that had a strong computer program. It was a perfect place for an undergraduate student to find him or herself an education.</span></span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">However, the school had one major flaw in its disciplinary system: if a fraternity vandalized a house, campus police couldn't do damn thing about it. To solve these problems you had to go to The Greek Council, an organization................... RUN BY <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">FRATERNITIES</span>.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">We can all see the dilemma here. A bunch of guys in a house get a rock in their window that says "Nerds Get Out," and the only way to get back at the sons of bitches that did the dirty work is to complain to those very same sons of bitches. That's not a way to get anything done.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">So the next logical step would be to form a fraternity and get those people out of power. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">How would one bring down such mighty power that had jurisdiction over the police?</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">By winning the yearly festival of weird games... of course.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">The festival includes: drinking an ocean of beer while riding a tricycle, coed arm wrestling, tug-o-war, a belching contest, shaking some ropes tied to a barrel, selling shit that no one needs, an awful talent competition, and other events that demonstrate your constructive use of power like raping a football player's girlfriend on the moon.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, if a guy dresses up in a costume and pretends to be a girl's (or guy, I guess) boyfriend so she will unknowingly have sex with him, THAT'S RAPE. Instead of seeking therapy and vengeance against Lewis Skolnick, Betty Childs..... falls in love. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">No need to wine and dine this blonde bomb-shell. The key to Betty Childs' heart can be found at the bottom of a bottle of Rohypnol (That's Ruffies!). Lewis must have had a totally radical nerd-wiener with sensationally ticklish geek-jizz to pull that off. After all, five minutes before the sexual assault happened, Betty wouldn't even kiss Lewis after he payed hundreds of dollars to do so. What a whore. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">The forced sexual encounter was so fantastic she then breaks off her relationship with her current boyfriend, Stan Gable: the kick-ass football player; the very same Stan Gable that threw the rock into Lewis' window, and who is head of the Greek council. He was dumped like a poisonous, jury duty, mother-in-law, milkshake for reasons which are not logically sewn together. Yes, Stan was a huge dick, but that doesn't matter because Betty was there the whole time acting like a giant bitch. They were perfect for each other.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Anyhoo, that's the famous story of the Adams College Greek Festival Jocky Girlfriend Rape.</span></span></span></div>Petehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-12917398149161994472010-02-18T06:37:00.000-08:002010-02-18T06:45:34.117-08:00Unwarranted Fart GuiltWhenever I walk into a room or an elevator or any other enclosed space and I can tell someone farted, I immediately get super nervous that it's going to get blamed on me. I'm not paranoid or anything, it's just that dudes who look like me <em>always</em> look they just farted. It's my gift and my curse depending on how you feel about me farting.Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-87550013327106866552010-02-16T14:23:00.000-08:002010-02-19T07:14:10.386-08:00A chronological history of Nu Metal fight songs...Every style of music garners a certain stereotype from people not familiar with its culture. Warranted or not, these stereotypes generally help define a genre in the eyes of its detractors and more often than not, they are an exaggeration of the genre's most popular artist's negative traits. <em>Snoop Dogg</em> has a few hits? All rappers want to blow up the porch of the local daycare with a bazooka. <em>Marilyn Manson</em> sells a bunch of records? All goth kids want to eat the placenta of your youngest daughter. We're smart enough as a culture not to fall victim to these blanket generalizations. Not all metalheads are fat burnouts. Not all jazz enthusiasts are annoying assholes. Not all polka lovers are dead. It's not that simple. However, in the case of Nu Metal kids, it is. I can say with confidence that every single Nu Metal fan on Earth is an indefensibly dumb, bigoted redneck who likes hanging out with fat chicks. And what do retarded hill people love to do more than anything? Yep, fight. And what does every fight need? You got it, a bitchin' soundtrack. Luckily there have been a few brave Nu Metal bands willing to step up to the plate and bang out enough aggro punch jams to score an entire Royal Rumble. Here is a chronological history of the most popular ones.<br /><br />(Editors note: I would've included a Slipknot song on this list but I'm writing this at work and even typing the word Slipknot into a search engine gets you arrested and convicted without trial of meth possesion.)<br /><br />1992 - <strong>Rage Against the Machine</strong> - <em>Killing in the Name</em><br /><br />It appears as though we're finally at a stage in our society where otherwise intelligent people have stopped defending Rage Against the Machine as musically or socially relevent. There was a period when everyone had a friend who fell for their bullshit anti corporate, anti capitalist rhetoric, all while paying 15 bucks a CD to super indy label <em>Epic</em> to hear RATM jack off into their eardrums. Now that there are actual problems to deal with in the world, freeing Mumia doesn't really seem like too big of a fucking deal. Hence, 95% of the lyrics in this song are entirely useless. But wait! If you can stick it out through the first few minutes of this "song" you will get to hear what is arguably the genesis of the Nu Metal fight song. There's a big dumb build up that is the musical equivalent of a porn director whispering "<em>wait for it.</em>.." and then boom! It happens. "FUCK YOU, I WON'T DO WHAT YOU TELL ME!!!" screams lead singer Zack De La Whogivesashit, thus providing the soundtrack for countless professional wrestler ring walks and UFC compilation videos. We all kind of get that this was supposed to be in some way anti authoritarian and self empowering but in reality it's just a dude who's heard of Noam Chomsky urging you to become misinformed as well and paving the way for bands across the world to threaten to fight you in their "music".<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkuOAY-S6OY">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkuOAY-S6OY</a><br /><br />2000 - <strong>Limp Bizkit</strong> - <em>Break Stuff</em><br /><br />Oh yeah, dog, now you're talking to me! It took a few years for the next great beatdown jam to rear its fat, red baseball cap wearing head, but when it did, holy shit was it worth it. Every second of this song is a battle cry to go over to the trailer nextdoor to yours and flex your muscles before throwing a brick through its window. It's the national anthem for backyard wrestlers everywhere. <em>Break Stuff </em>is responsible for more fat chicks getting date raped than roofie infused Twix Bars.<br /><br />Sample Lyrics:<br /><br /><em>Its just one of those days </em><br /><em>When you don't wanna wake up</em><br /><em>Everything is fucked</em><br /><em>Everybody sux</em><br /><em>You don't really know why</em><br /><em>But you want justifyRippin' someone's head off</em><br /><em>No human contact</em><br /><em>And if you interact</em><br /><em>Your life is on contract</em><br /><em>Your best bet is to stay away motherfucker</em><br /><em>It's just one of those days!!</em><br /><br />It reads like the rambling, unfocused journal entries of an autistic eighth grader and it's about as musically compentent as a Jiffy Lube commercial but there's something strangely endearing about it. When those first two dumb chords come in - <em>BERRRR NINT! BERRRR NINT</em>! - you can't help but get a little excited. Granted, it's the same kind of excitement you feel when you see an old man on rollerblades heading for an uncovered manhole but excitement nonetheless. Those two chords send a message to your brain saying "Get ready, dog. In a few minutes you're going to be knuckles deep in chubby girl. And not in a sexual way."<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpUYjpKg9KY">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpUYjpKg9KY</a><br /><br />2001 - <strong>Drowning Pool </strong>- <em>Bodies</em><br /><br />It only took a year for the gluesniffer fight anthem title to change hands and with it came a whole batallion of overly patriotic, chest beating shitheads. This song was used in more Army recruiting propaganda than Uncle Sam. I have a theory that without <em>Bodies </em>our entire military would consist of seven brothers from Georgia who like to hunt fish with a flamethrower. Though this is cookie cutter, meat and potatoes, missionary position Nu Metal, the song could technically fall under the umbrella of Math Rock since the verses are just the singer counting to four which, let's face it, is pretty gifted for someone in a Nu Metal band. The song is apparently about moshing - which is a word that Nu Metal kids use to describe pushing their fat girlfriend into someone else's fat girlfriend while sticking out their pierced tongue and making a metal hand sign - but it ultimately served to be extremely prophetic when a year later lead singer Dave Williams' body hit the floor for good as a result of Cardiomyopathy. Who knew that eating cocaine cheeseburgers was bad for your heart? The Nu Metal community mourned his loss by not fighting anything for six months. Not even their dogs. This song may have also set the world record for being used in the most UFC fighter entrances but I can't substantiate that since I don't watch gay shit like UFC.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sO_QntXc-c4">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sO_QntXc-c4</a><br /><br />2003 - <strong>Trapt</strong> - <em>Headstrong</em><br /><br />The early 00's were a fertile breeding ground for Nu Metal battle tunes and in the long run, Trapt's (my spell check just exploded) <em>Headstrong </em>might possibly be the most quintessential fight song ever. Let's go down the list: Uncreatively misspelled band name? Check. Clean chorus, loud verse structure? Check. Video containing Nu Metal dorks getting yelled at by authority figures? Check. And most importantly, confrontationally condradicting lyrics? Motherfucking check! In the chorus, singer Ricky FartHelmet instructs you to first "back off" but then boldly claims that he'll "take you on". I'm not quite sure how he's going to take me on if I'm backing off but let's just assume, in his defense, that it's a depth perception issue. He then tells us that either in spite of or because of the fact that he is "headstrong", he will "take on anyone". Yeah? Wouldn't you at least pretend to be, I don't know, body strong or maybe gun strong before you threatened to take on anyone? Are you gonna kick their ass with your stubbornness and sticktuitiveness? And just by looking at this guy, I've compiled a short list of people who would beat the dogshit out of him. Here it is in no particular order.<br /><br />1. Me<br />2. Every single person I've ever met<br />3. Every single person I haven't met yet<br />4. The still living members of Color Me Badd<br />5. Asthma<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jKScyP0A40">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jKScyP0A40</a><br /><br />2009 - <strong>Sick Puppies</strong> - <em>You're Going Down</em><br /><br />Here it is, hot off the press. The newest and most ri-god-damn-dic-fucking-u-fucking-lous Nu Metal fight song yet. Disregard the fact that the verses are literally the exact same melody as <em>Blue Monday</em> by <em>New Order </em>as well as the fact that they have a chick bass player which immediately disqualifies them from being threatening in any way, this song still contains without a doubt the toughest line sang by a Ryan Reynolds look alike in the history of music.<br /><em></em><br /><em>"Don't cry like a bitch when you feel the pain..."</em><br /><br />This is what your older step brother says to you right before he beats you in Street Fighter 2. This is how villians in Jerry Bruckheimer movies talk right before they pillow fight. This is the kind of thing that my girlfriend says into the mirror before working out. And she's twelve. Yet, in <em>You're Going Down </em>it's supposed to be the last thing we hear before a horrific beatdown at the hands of these folks:<br /><br /><a href="http://blogs.ocweekly.com/heardmentality/sickpuppies.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 317px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px" alt="" src="http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j116/petestmart/Twin%20Cities%20Tank/sickpuppies.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I know, pretty scary. And there's a line in this song, actually twice, where he says "I feel the heat comin' off of the blacktop, and it makes me want it more". Want what more? The blacktop? I'm not saying that I need him to spell it out for me but if you're gonna talk about asphalt in a song called <em>You're Going Down</em> at least have it be something about tombstone piledriving someone's face into it or powerbombing them out of a fourth story window and burying them underneath it.<br /><br /><p>More sample lyrics:</p><p><em>It's been a long time coming</em></p><p><em>And the tables' turned around</em></p><p><em>Cause one of us is goin', One of us is goin' down</em></p><p><em>I'm not runnin', it's a little different now</em></p><p><em>Cause one of us is goin' ONE OF US IS GOIN' DOWN!!!</em></p><p align="left">Please note that I didn't put that last part in caps. That's exactly how I copied it from their lyrics page. I'm assuming it's supposed to show just how hard one of them is going down. If you don't believe me about this being the new meth head fight jam, how about some proof , motherfucker? These are random comments from the video's youtube page.</p><p align="left"><br /><a class="watch-comment-auth" href="http://www.youtube.com/user/Whitishkyle" rel="nofollow">Whitishkyle</a> - <em>Good song,i would use it for fighting music</em> </p><p align="left"><br /><a class="watch-comment-auth" href="http://www.youtube.com/user/Jsb25704" rel="nofollow">Jsb25704</a> <em>I don't give a fuck about the video, this song is fresh and new to the scene and I love it nice raw power. Great boxing intro song for sure.</em></p><p align="left"><a class="watch-comment-auth" href="http://www.youtube.com/user/Atlloveforever" rel="nofollow">Atlloveforever</a> <em>I know, this song gets you pumped! hahaha. When I see someone fighting, I'll kick out this song, haha.</em> </p><p align="left"><a class="watch-comment-auth" href="http://www.youtube.com/user/joesuperbeaner" rel="nofollow">joesuperbeaner</a> <em>this song makes me wanna fight, haha. their bass player is freakin' HOT!!!</em> </p><p align="left">These are 100% for real. See for yourself.</p><p align="left"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2bohKixLt8">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2bohKixLt8</a></p><p align="left"></p>Dr. Babyshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15902151973546966738noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5128756755571948573.post-81408725327896242562010-02-16T14:11:00.001-08:002010-02-16T14:36:30.068-08:00Bowling AlleyI'm going to open a bowling alley called Varicose Lanes.Petehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01266395835418215462noreply@blogger.com0