Me: I think this sums up the entire Rockies 2011 season. DJ: I think this sums it up better. You and I are the frog in the scenario. Me: Can you please stop sending me inter-species rape videos? I find it weird I have to ask that. DJ: I find it weird I have to answer that question, but the answer is “no”. Me: Nice.
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?
Flying on 9/11 may not be the smartest thing I have ever done (then again neither was this. Or this. Or this), but, as the rabid Carolina Hurricanes fan sitting next to me on the plane said yesterday “If we do not fly on 9/11 then the fucking terrorists win.” Preach on, guy who loves Rod Brind’Amour, preach on (note to Perez: ‘Canes fan was a former Philadelphia Flyers fan which almost made me stop talking to him until I asked him why he stopped rooting for the Flyers. His response, “Because my wife and I have been living in Raleigh for the past seven years and, well, fuck the Flyers“). Sitting in the CLT, here are some highlights from my recent business trip to North Carolina:
North Carolina is green and lush. I mean really green and lush. I guess I am too used to the yellow-brown hue Colorado is covered in year-round. There are a plethora of pine tress in the greater Raleigh-Durham area, too. I was not aware the Carolinas were so friendly to the coniferous tree family.
Various topics discussed with our client that was not related to his website: Carolina Panthers football, the point spread on the UNC-Rutgers game, Indian hotel investors, hairy pussy, bald pussy, Viagra and wine.
Various topics discussed with our client related to his website that had nothing to do with design or development: their T1 connection.
Various topics discussed with our client related to his website that had to do with design or development: none.
I enjoyed a ridiculous meal at a five-star resort called Herons. I gorged myself on a tremendous meal of sea bass, hush puppies, numerous expensive glasses of wine and sweet potato pie.
How many times our client’s partner urged me to “beat my children with a strap” upon telling him that my wife was pregnant: 3.
How many times our client’s partner passed on the restaurant valet service even though it was free: 2.
The next time I will be to invited fly to Raleigh and “talk about the website”: 6 months.
Hulkamania is apparently not about lifting your weights and eating your vitamins but slathering baby oil inappropriately all over your daughter’s ass.
Bill Geerhart wrote letters to some of the most infamous figures in the country posing as a ten year-old boy named Billy. Hijinks ensue.
Just when I thought Tyra Banks was in another stratosphere with her insanity she proves that there are others even more crazy than her. The best (saddest) part of the feature? When Summer’s dad hands her a bottle of lube for her first day of whoring.
George Clooney is a bitch. All the deviants on my Thursday night ice hockey team judged me a few weeks ago for not having seen Two Girls And 1 Cup. So I gave into peer pressure and watched the scat sickness unfold before me. I am convinced the two girls were eating chocolate soft serve ice cream and not engaging in actual corpophilia. I need footage of the poop in question being shat into the cup, not the cup going off camera and than magically re-entering the frame filled with poop. Who are you judging now, Thursday night ice hockey team?
In California, science dorks are getting their panties in a twist over the first substantiated wolverine sighting since the 1920s. Yee-haw! It is a large, ferocious weasel!
Erotic Falconry is a great idea with poor execution (Read: birds of prey Photshopped into pictures of hot chicks). I was expecting topless shots of hot chicks with falconers gloves and assorted raptors affixed to them. I guess my standards are just too high. You disappoint me yet again, internet.
Jake: Amber marries Amber Doll. Me: That doll looks a million times better than she does. Jake: Ha! Me: I would probably take a run at that doll but be creeped out the entire time while doing so. Then again, that describes sex with my ex-girlfriend so I might be able to handle it. Jake: I have a feeling I would get in the middle of it and be like, “This is weird.” It would be like jerking off in the shower and realizing halfway through that it is not going anywhere. Sure you keep at it for a while, but eventually your arm just wears out. Me: No way. Once I am in that doll, I am committed. It is a lot like sex with the dead or bestiality; once you crossed the the penetration threshold, all bets are off. You do not just pull out and acknowledge weirdness in the middle of it. You have to finish and than punch the doll in the throat for judging you afterwards.
What is it about you that simultaneously makes me tingle in the crotch and causes me to question the very nature of human sexuality? You are but a cartoon yet I find myself longing to objectify you. In the midst of my drunken haze yesterday at the Colorado Rockies game, you teased me on the Jumbo Tron with your winning smile, your pink tresses flipping out from under your ball cap and your vibrant green eyes confidentially stating, “I am cute, I love Colorado Rockies baseball and I fight big insurance by defeating its evil representatives in assorted sporting activities.” Was it not you who went screaming down a mountain on a snowboard chased by mindless goons on snowmobiles just to save me 18 cents a month on my automotive policy? Was it not you who took to the ice in a desperate hockey match against villainous robots bent on lavish insurance premiums only to defeat them by playing goalie, offense and defense and eventually scoring the game-winning goal with a wicked slap shot? You little pink-haired minx. You have stolen my heart and more importantly, you have made me believe that I do not have to spend a bundle on auto insurance.
Me: Then there are these fucking guys. Jake: I like how you lead into that. Me: (bows). Jake: Dude thought the obituary picture was cute? Never mind that she died in a motorcycle crash. Me: Yeah. She’s dead, fellas. How about you try to tap the living, first? Jake: Well, I would rather they try this than rape Tommy’s little sister. Me: I would rather them not rape anybody, dead or alive. I do like how they bought condoms. That was thoughtful. Jake: Yes. You don’t want to catch maggots. Me: Or get the corpse pregnant. What were the other dudes going to do while their boy got his Ted Bundy on? Jake: See if he liked it and then take a poke if it was any good? Me: Yeesh. There are sloppy seconds and than there are sloppy seconds with a dead body. That is the lowest rung on the sexual deviance ladder. While we’re on the topic, I’m thinking they should have bought some lube with those condoms, too. Jake: Totally. Me: You know, a guy I play hockey with kind of looks like one of those dudes. His name is Dave. He probably has sex with the dead, too. Jake: Nice.