The MB Transitions Into Obscurity

When I started the MB back in 2000, my original intent was to showcase my resume and minuscule design portfolio. I had just made the transition from print design to web design and thought the purchase of the domain name would motivate me to learn more about designing and maintaining websites. It did.

In 2002, the MB transitioned from a professional showcase to a personal one. I started posting about all manner of nonsense, because, in case you have not realized by now, I have a lot to say about a lot of shit. In 2002 there was no Facebook. No Twitter. No MySpace. No news feeds. It actually took some doing to track down links and write about them. I was happy to do this because my job was mind-numbing and management at the data slaughterhouse had no idea what the hell I was up to. Soon, links, emails and IMs started flooding in from the likes of Jake, Michael, DJ, Kaye, Monica, CH, Gay Joe and Mark. Boredom loves company? I was happy to be posting regularly as it fueled my passion for creativity in ways that my career was not.

Enter Broz Design in November 2008 and my posting to the MB fizzling out. Maybe its because I am fulfilled professionally? Or because I would rather hang out with my kid than waste my time posting about a guy that got fucked to death by a horse? Or maybe it is time to take the MB into a new direction? I go with the latter. I have always dreamed about writing the Great American Novel but am no closer to that goal than I was last year. My New Years resolution for 2010 is to start using the MB to focus more on actually writing a book and get some ideas out into the ether. It may not lead to anything other than me doing what I have been wanting to do for some time and that is fine. It is not like you want to read about a horse fucking a guy to death, anyway. Right?

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Pimping For Mickey D’s

Gay Joe: This seem fair to me.
Me: I love that picture. A whore alone in a tunnel.
Gay Joe: It is like a fractal; a tunnel inside of a tunnel.
Me: Both are hollow inside.
Gay Joe: Both are sordid and smell of urine.
Me: Both are easily entered and exited.
Gay Joe: Nice.
Me: Still on for tacos this week?
Gay Joe: Totally.

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Gay Joe:
Me: I am sure some ex-girlfriends of mine use that service.
Gay Joe: I am going to make a profile: “Tranny suffering from post-coital Pseudobulbar palsy with anger management issues seeking same in Denver.”
Me: Wow. That would be awesome if you found someone.
Gay Joe: Ha! “You have 228 new messages.”
Me: That site would have been a dream come true for me in college since I tended to veer towards messed up chicks back then. They had daddy issues; either he touched them too much or did not touch them enough. I essentially dated strippers before they hit the pole, Joey. Before they completely died on the inside.
Gay Joe: It is a good idea to date them before said inner-death; it is something I like to call “pre-hookering.” In my tribe, that is pretty much everyone by age 18, so I had it easy.
Me: Pun intended.
Gay Joe: Exactly.

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Intestinal Parasites And Mental Hospitals

Gay Joe: I do not know why but I love this.
Me: You are fucked in the head. That is why.
Gay Joe: Well, yeah. So are you, though.
Me: Agreed. It is why we get along.
Gay Joe: It is always nice to know that you may run into someone you know if the State ever forces you into the asylum.
Me: Totally.
Gay Joe: “Matty?! Is that you?!” “Yeah! Wow! Shock therapy?” “Yup!” “Right on!”
Me: [screaming at cops] “FUCKIN’ PIGS! GET YOUR FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF ME! Oh, hey Joe. How are you man? … FUCKIN’ PIGS!”
Gay Joe: See you in Pueblo someday, Matty.
Me: Right back at you, fruitcake.

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Caged Heat

Gay Joe: Conjugal Harmony, Matty.
Me: Awesome. BrandiY is hot.
Gay Joe: I liked Fisty.
Me: Yeah. Good name. Did you check out Chopper? Her convictions are drug trafficking, murder, plus some small stuff.
Gay Joe: Ha! I would totally date a prison chick. Finally, I would get me a real man.
Me: Those girls are more man than me, Joey.
Gay Joe: These are the kinds of gals that could win a fight in a back alley while eight months pregnant. Gotta respect that.
Me: Totally. Plus they would not care about getting their fetus cut out of their uterus as long as they won.
Gay Joe: Yup.
Me: I love these convictions: I kill a man what who raped me but DNA said he didn’t so it was murder or Two counts premedicated murder on my sister kids I used to wash.
Gay Joe: Premedicated murder? Used to wash? That is awesome.
Me: Wait … I found the best one. Look at Chesty Heavens’ convictions: I beat up this bitch cop with my bare knuckles and she died so I’m done for life. Lets chat!
Gay Joe: Wow. That IS super.
Me: She’s a special lady.

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Homosexual Property Dealings

Me: The wife and I are moving out of the hood, Joey.
Gay Joe: No way. Are you moving over to Castlegate to run your meth dealing ring from within?
Me: No. We got a house. We put an offer in last Wednesday, got countered on Thursday and we accepted. We now have three mortgages and can officially be called “slumlords.” We may own the whole goddamn town home complex if you are not careful.
Gay Joe: Want to buy my place?
Me: Maybe. Think we can wash the gay off the walls?
Gay Joe: No. That is the selling point, jackass.
Me: “For rent: 2 bedroom suburban town house. Doubles as homosexual circus tent and semen repository.”
Gay Joe: “Home already part of metro area orgy circuit. Ideal for those already suffering from syphilitic dementia.”
Me: Awesome.
Gay Joe: Replace “suffering from” with “enjoying.”
Me: Depending on who we are targeting.
Gay Joe: “Bush-bottoms welcome at double rent.”
Me: “Bear lovers encouraged.”
Gay Joe: I would actually prohibit bear lovers and pets. Too much hair. Anyway, congrats on the new house. Looks nice.
Me: Thanks, killer.

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Darth Vader Is All About The Dick

Me: An idea that is right up your alley. Literally and figuratively.
Gay Joe: Or something.
Me: Fuck you, you silly little queer.
Gay Joe: Hey! I may be little and queer but I am not silly.
Me: Um.
Gay Joe: Okay, maybe a little silly.
Me: I am surprised you have not faggoted up that cubicle with posters of Julie Andrews and the Depeche Mode.
Gay Joe: I have not done that because I am more of a dark fag.
Me: You are like the Darth Vader of the gay community. Or the grim reaper. Take your pick.
Gay Joe: Vader. He had a huge helmet.
Me: The grim reaper has that giant scythe though. You could do some cool gay shit with it.
Gay Joe: Well played.

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The Weekend That Was

Friday. Work late to complete a corporate Flash presentation that nobody will pay attention to. After work, I play in a coed softball game where my team wins 26-4 and the opposing team’s third baseman catches a ground ball with her face and breaks her nose. Immediately following the game a torrential downpour ensues and I sprint to my car leaving my glove on the field. I roll to Tyler’s house and play College Football with the Slushy Gutter Crew. At one point in the evening Tyler pours me either a glass of bourbon, scotch, or whiskey. I drink it and proceed to kick his ass with Virginia Tech 30-14. On the way home I realize that I left my mitt on the softball field.

Saturday. I attend my company picnic and run the corporate Flash presentation I put in long hours over. Surprisingly, people pay attention, laugh and tell me good job. After the presentation the picnic continues at a nearby park with a luau theme and a pig roasting. I eat heaping platefuls of swine and mingle with coworkers. Jake, Gay Joe and I make fun of some pasty kid trying to play football. We call him “Mary” and giggle like the dickheads we are. Joe tells us about his homosexual encounters the previous evening. Hula dancers many years past their prime shake their asses for our amusement. I volunteer to dance with them, throwing my inhibitions into the wind like Kevin Bacon in Footloose. I perform a dance with pom-poms and hip gyrations. I win the grand prize in the company raffle (a $200 gift certificate to the Flagstaff House). After the picnic, I attend a lesbian wedding with Monica, Kaye, Aaron, Nels and Kerry. We quickly become the obnoxious drunk table at the reception. A plant is passed around and the recipient of said plant gives a toast. A diverse blend of people wishes the couple well including a militant lesbian with an attitude problem and a sexual predator with disheveled hair holding a kid that liked to hit people in the face. I share my toast with the happy couple, lifting my glass and saying, “Here’s to eating pussy.” They laugh hysterically. I love the lesbians and wish them the best. We roll to Monica’s crib for a nightcap. I discover Kaye does not like playing drinking games with me. Monica informs me she picked up my softball glove up after our game. This makes me happy.

Sunday. I wake up at noon with a screaming hangover. I pour a glass of water and take ibuprofen. I watch Panic Room on digital cable. I drink a glass of water. I make a trip to Home Depot to buy some sandpaper and steel wool. I drink a glass of water. I strip paint for four hours. I drink three glasses of water. My Mom calls and invites me to dinner. I drink a glass of water. I drive to my parents house and eat spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner. We discuss home improvement. I go home to play a game of College Football. Colorado State beats Wyoming 21-3. Nels picks me up for our hockey game. I tally a hat trick and an assist. I drink seven glasses of water. Mark throws a shoe at Nels’s face. I come home and take a shower. I go to sleep. If anyone asks me what I did this weekend, I will say, “Nothing.”

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