Author: Chris

I went to check out a movie with my chica recently and realized movies are absolute dogshit right now.  Let’s review!

If you don’t have kids, there goes Happy Feet Too, Arthur Christmas, Puss in Boots and the Muppets.  Also, please stop telling me about all these stupid kids movies that “have a lot of adult jokes!”  Not buying it, stop selling the fact you have to sit through this inane crap and justify to yourself.

If you think Jack and Jill is funny, please never, ever come to one of my shows.  Or speak to me in public.

J. Edgar might be OK, but it seems long.  That annoys me a little, but I’ll give Clint Eastwood the benefit of the doubt.  I would rather have to fight werewolves and vampires covered in my own blood than watch any Twilight.  Enough – become a vampire or shut up.  Quit leading on the undead and giving gross goth chicks hope that they’ll actually turn into immortal superbeings.

Harlold and Kumar part who gives a shit is next.  “Did you see Doogie Howser?  He’s great!”  YES.  IN EVERY ROLE HE DOES.  He’s the gay guy who acts like a womanizing dick.  WE GET IT.  The other ones I haven’t even heard about.  Why don’t they make good, wholesome flicks like Lionheart or First Blood anymore?  Hollywood sucks.

Tonight is the annual “Bad Boys do Good” benefit show at Grumpy Dave’s in Bowling Green.  It is a haul for a weeknight, but totally worthwhile.  The idea is simple, it’s the bluest show of the year there, which is saying something for a college heavy audience.  I get to dust off all the over the top offensive material I don’t do anymore, because I enjoy getting rebooked from time to time.

Sadly, most of the jokes I will do tonight were staples of my act.  This will basically be my act from late 2008, with less cursing.  I was so offensive the first show, I turned off the crowd…at a show that says, “Not for the easily offended.”  Or in my case, uneasily offended.  Whatever, kids get toys or people get their feelings hurt.  I win – have a firetruck and put on your earmuffs around Uncle Coen, kids.

(See previous blog for back story)  With the last moron of the evening passing out on the deck blaring Garth Brooks, it is a wonder the cops didn’t just torch our cabin, but they entered uninvited at five am.  Of course, they didn’t need permission b/c the front door was wide open.  My pal was passed out with his shirt off on the floor.  He was the first one to get the wake up call.  As he stood up, the slices of cheese we had slapped on his back began to fall off.

By the time I was found, everyone else had been processed and ticketed or let go (being over 21).  I am a sound sleeper/pass outer, so I slept through the whole ordeal.  I awoke to the sound of “Get up boy!” and a flashlight in my face.  I thought it was my buddies, so I did nothing.  “Got any ID?”  I tossed the cover aside, grabbed my morning wood and grumbled, “Here’s my ID, you cocksucker!”  “This is the State Highway Patrol, son.  Put on your trousers.”  Unphazed, I said, “I don’t have any trousers, but I have pants.”  Well, he didn’t appreciate my sunny personality, so he got two other officers to drag me out of bed and get a ticket for underage consumption.  No beer in the cabin, no breathalyzer, no admission of drinking, but I still got a ticket.  I was pretty hot, but I realized innocent men get jail for murder and rape, so I can’t exactly complain.  Side note: my other underage friend got out of it by running into the bathroom and faking a shit for 30 minutes.  The cops just gave up and let him go.  When in doubt, sit on the pot.  Fight the power!

I found today that the annual benefit for my fallen fraternity brother, Quincy, is at Salt Fork State Park in 2012.  I was there once and got arrested.  Here’s the tale.

My fraternity had an executive board, which I was on at the end of my sophomore year at age 20.  We went to Salt Fork to plan the next year…then get wasted and make up horrible pledge names for the active members.  They got meaner and less creative the more the beer flowed.  They went from “Homewrecker” and “FLOS (Fat Lump of Shit)” to “Anorexic Burn Victim” and “The suicide hotline hung up on me.”  Last one not too catchy.  After a while, we got bored and began terrorizing the park.

My buddy stormed into a cabin of non-English speaking Asians and grabbed a bunch of sandwiches as they screamed their mysterious curses.  Another guy said he saw some hot chicks.  We went to investigate and knocked on the door.  Turns out, the mom answered and the girls were 15.  I ended up jumping naked into the lake for a case of beer and $3 (it was April, not very warm).

For some reason, I possess a gene that makes me do things people say I can’t.  A gene, or mental defect.  Alcohol exacerbates this greatly.  I remember one time my buddy said I couldn’t scale a building, so I climbed railing up the side of an apartment complex.  I also uprooted a sign post under a challenge that took me 12 minutes and screwed up my back.  I now realize, yes it is a mental defect indeed.  I have problems.

All was well that night until the last one up decided to drag my CD player to the deck and pass out to the blaring sounds of “Garth Brooks: The Hits.”  Apparently, that didn’t sit well with the normal people…(stay tuned for the next blog!)

Don’t.  At least I don’t.  This is definitely a man/woman thing down the line.  I absolutely couldn’t care less.  However, my Mom gives me things, my sister added on, and my girlfriend even was on me about it.  She spent two entire days putting up decorations.  That sounds awesome, let me waste two days putting stuff up, then take two days to tear it down.  Four days to make my place look like an elf vomited a yard sale in my living room.

I don’t have anything against Christmas, I just know I have about two people that come over a month tops and my dog hates when I put stuff up.  The average visitors to my palace o’ solitude are either 1) dating me or 2) coming over to hammer beers until vision is hampered.  So, if my beer can has a wreath on it, there’s your holiday spirit.  If not, forget it.  FYI – Busch Light has either mountains or orange camo.  Ho Ho Ho.

I hate when people name days.  OK, Black Friday is fine.  Then Small Business Saturday, Cyber Monday, Colostomy Bag Tuesday (that one didn’t take off).  They do it for sports, too.  Showdown Sunday, Standoff Saturday, how about week 12?  Or STFU Sunday?

What in the hell in going on with kid touching in sports?  I have a remedy – if you touch kids, you room with the inmate with the most kids so he beats you to death.  If you cover it up, the current MMA champ dresses up like your college’s mascot, and beats you to death.  Ever had your ass kicked by an Orange or scarf wearing Lion?  Scumbags.

I am an Ohio State fan.  Urban Meyer and now OSU is stomping Duke in men’s basketball.  Life is so good for my college sportsdom I’m waiting on a call to come in and naked steamroll the cheerleaders for an annual stipend of $50,000 a year.  Naked steamroller!  Tee hee!