May 7, 2010

Zebra Earrings by GoodWoodNYC

Zoberstein - So what do you think, Zeeby? What are the chances we will make it down this hill?

Zeeby - I'm not too sure, Zoberstein, it looks pretty steep and my hindquarters have been killing me today. It has nothing to do with my late night rendevue with Sir Zebadiah last night, so don't even ask.

Zoberstein - I wasn't gonna ask. I was going to congratulate you for being the brave one to meet with him. We all know how he likes to "Evaluate" stripes and all. I have seen some Zeebs come out that shank with uncombed fur and feathered tails. It's not pretty.

Zeeby - Well, we did no such thing. There was no "evaluating" as you would say, only some tall grass appetizers and filtered well water. Intelligent conversations on grazing technique and who's the new hot galloper in town. He spoke of me being the Hoof's pajamas, but I didn't know what that meant.

Zoberstein - ...

Zeeby - What? Say something! You are in the gossip herd officially as of yesterday so fess up, tongue monger!

Zoberstein - First of all, those tongues were free to eat, so don't go hating on my steez because you didn't have the zebreashoes to plow in their and take what you wanted. I was famished and wanted to fill myself so I wouldn't have to go down to the Savanna with the rest of the crooked teeth nose breathers that eat dirt because it's "fun". Fuck that shit. I'm gonna get mine, son. Step off my mohawk manes.

Zeeby - Ok ok. Our monophyletic origins tend to have greed involved, so I can see how you were out to win. Say, where did you get those zebra earrings at?

Zoberstein - Oh, you like them? They were a gift from Sir Zebediah! Aren't they great? He got them all the way from NYC, where his travellers usually pick up the Shrub-Tree Fusion food from. Amazing.

Zetard - EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHH!

Zoberstein - Quiet Zetard, we are trying to converse here.

Zoberstein - Well Zeeby what about this hill....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Zetard - EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Zeeby - Serves you right, tongue greedy fucker. I'll be eating yo tongue now, sucka. Get off my earrings too, bitch. These are my joints that I'm gonna take off your striped carcass ass. I'll eat yo kids too, hater.

Zetard - EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEONNNNNNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Zeeby - Zetard, you better check yo self. I'm about to bust a stripe in yo big ass. Hillside, mothafucka. Recognize.

April 30, 2010

Beef

We have reached the pinnacle of the meats portion of class: Beef. The all infamous, super tasty delicious, always referenced in phallic situations, impossible to digest, red appearance like the devil, slap on your bruised face incredible beef. There are 100's of different cuts that come from a cow, and it depends on what you want to spend and how much quality you want for your belly. For me, there isn't really a bad beef per say, just some are better than others. Kinda like when smell your farts in comparison to someone else's. A fart is a fart, but for some reason, your own is always more tolerable than anyone else's. It almost smells good. Actually, it does smell good. You're laying in bed by yourself and lay a gas chamber egg under the covers, creating your own personal Dutch oven. You trap it for a while, seeing if the smell will seep up into your nostrils naturally, indicating to you that it was a quality product. After the examination period, you lift the covers and release the scent of a job well done. But your partner does that to you, I guarantee it's not the same. You know I'm right. I'm simply the guy with no shame that is willing to say it.

Butchering beef is always something that is entertaining to watch and do. When someone else is doing it, it's amazing to look at the expressions on people's faces while witnessing the neanderthal act. The awe in their deep concentration is the same as when people watch 'Minute To Win It', or any other prime lame time television program. The look of "is this really happening? While I'm standing here?" Give me a fricking break. These are the fartfaces that say, "Oh my word. That used to be a living creature." I am willing to bet my set aside stripper money for this month that they are the same pricks that say, "You know that girl grinding on the pole up there? That's someone's daughter." Would be kinda fascinating to see a cow grinding up and down a pole to stay out of the inevitable 'grazing grave" that all their buddies are at. You don't think people would come out to see that shit? It's one of those things that you don't want to see yet uncontrollably drawn to like gravity. Throw a nice leopard outfit on her, don't cover any of the four nipples, slap a little grade C stripper perfume on and you've got a star my friends.

When you're the one butchering, you have to maintain focus and not concentrate on the people looking on you as the dark angel of meat boning. Talk about your day, maybe allude slightly to what you are actually doing, then go back to talking about hockey or Dutch oven techniques. The rollercoaster of topics will keep them enthralled and bored at the same time. For example, when I am in class, I tend to pay attention when it is something that has nothing to do with the class. It's drone sounds mostly, but when the teach starts a story like, "So I had my tongue in this chick's ass last night..." , then I perk up and ask him to repeat the story AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN.

There is no need to explain how to cook beef, because if I have to explain, then I might go into the whole 'HOT BEEF INJECTION" thing and trust me, you don't want that.

Ok fine. Here's a summary. But only because you asked.

Basically the hot beef injection is what I also refer to as the hibbity jibbity, the horizontal mambo, the hide the salami game, etc. Women and unconfident boys in the kitchen don't like beef week, knowing that at 4 points or another that they will be victim to a beef joke of some sorts. Watch what you say when working with beef. The possibility of this scenario is highly likely:

Dish Boy - What are we making today, big muscly chefs?

Chef - Beef, boy. Hot Corned beef. HOT.

Dish Boy - Ooooh! I love hot beef!

Chef - I bet you do, Clay Aiken. Come over here and I'll show you some hot beef.

Dish Boy - Great! Here I come!

Chef - Yeeeeeeeaaaah Buddy.

Don't let this happen to you. Unless you want it to happen. If so, follow the previous scenario and adjust accordingly. Good luck, beefsuckerassfacehole.

April 23, 2010

The Emergency Conference Call

I just can't seem to get off the hot subject of the old numero dos. It seems that there are facets of the subject that go ignored all the time, or strategies and skills that people may have that they do not share with anyone. I find this to be selfish and unteamlike. If you have talents in the ways of making pooping a more pleasurable experience, then why not share your wisdom with the rest of the world? We all go through situations where we need to critically analyze an occurrence and have to make decisions on the spot. One of them happens to be getting a phone call while on your way to an emergency meeting, or getting an important call while currently in said emergency meeting. I know that your time on the throne is supposed to be sacred, a time of deep meditation and relaxation. A confessional of bad food you ate and the deposits of brown textured prayers that follow. Your faith remains strong, praising the lord of the brown bears and sacrificing your dignity for the sake of those creatures that are unable to enjoy a magazine or an underground indie flick while, and I quote my doctor, "doing the deed."

Yet again, there is a list of rules to follow when you receive these important phone calls. It may be that job you had lined up, that hooker you met the night before that you convinced to get out of the business, the high school you volunteer at calling to tell you you've been suspended for flooding the bathroom with water and "brown seaweed" overflow from one of the stalls and then fleeing the seen, or the police saying they found your underwear on a flagpole in boy's town. Whatever the case may be, you need to answer that call. Whether on route to the sinister throne or unloading Rambo's ammo beneath you, YOU MUST ANSWER THAT CALL. No if's, and's, or buts. Well, maybe a few butts. BIG ONES!

1) Wear headphones that have a mic - This way you can answer the call without having to hold it awkwardly to your ear and also you can listen to music while making your deposit. Don't have a phone capable of supporting said heaphones? Consider getting rid of your Saved By The Bell phone, Zack Morris. Join the rest of us in 2010, you non-emailing prick. That's right, those that have the world's first cell phone refuse to learn anything about modern technology. Including email. Did you hear me? INCLUDING EMAIL. I know. It's sad.

2) When answering, make any last minute contributions the beef stew pool - Push it out one last time before commencing human conversation. It will allow you to temporarily relieve yourself beforehand, and when you do answer you will be so relaxed that it'll sound like you just got done fucking. Well, you just fucked the bathroom out of fresh air for the next visitor so I guess it's almost the same thing.

3) If the brown bears need to exit, ask an open ended question - "So how was your day?" usually works for me. Or "What are you doing tonight?" and " Tell me more about that rash you have." Once you ask these questions that require about a 10-20 second response, hit the mute button and let the shit avalanche loose. You're still listening to what they're saying, unless you're wrath explosion is so euphoric that it takes you into a vegetable state, which is highly likely after taco day at the office.

4) Take your time - The person on the other end is none the wiser, so focus on your itinerary of being awesome in the world of dirty tile and all things flushable. They're interrupting YOUR important meeting, your time to conduct business and set the standard for the rest of the day. Relax. Do your thing.

5) Upon completion, mute and flush - You're all done, but roomie needs to make his contribution as well. What do you do? Ask another open ended question, mute, flush, wash hands, and run out of bathroom while hitting mute because it'll probably be your turn to respond by then. I say run out because you don't want them to hear the flushing sound or the sound of a sink and have them interrogate you on what you were doing. Then if they do hear the faint sound of your goods flushing into the secret mist of shitdome, make up a story about how you were walking by the bathroom and your roomie didn't think you were home and decided to shit with the door open just because he '"felt like it." Go on by saying you're scarred for life by seeing his pasty white legs pressed against the same comfort seat that you visit at least 3 times daily. Your energy has decreased, and now have a fear of that toilet that you had grown so close to over the last 11 months. If you tell them this, I assure you that sympathy from your co-converesationer will follow. You won't necessarily get window love, but more phone love.

There it is. The last lesson in the poop dualogy. You now have all the keys to a successful experience.

"I'm setting the example. What I've done is going to be puzzled over and studied and followed... forever." - Kevin Spacey in Seven

'Yeah, what Kevin Spacey said in Seven. I did that shit too. With shit." - Jimmy Cababa

April 16, 2010

The Emergency Meeting

There are times, when in fact, you have to use the bathroom. I mean IMMEDIATELY. The dance in front of the door when some jerkface is taking his sweet time washing his hands and singing the National Anthem, the mini farts that squirt out of your backside uncontrollably, the contractions that you have while en route to the porcelain place of worship, and the deep meditation you go through to think about anything else than what's going to explode out of your pants and onto the floor if you don't get on that throne pronto.

Once inside, there are certain things to remember while on the Hershey highway. These are rules of the brown game that many of you are aware of, some you may do unconsciously, and others that will improve your overall experience. Now pay attention and you can either make your appointment as awkward as possible for everyone else in the restroom, or as pleasant as possible for yourself and still awkward for everyone else. So no matter what, you win.

1) Hang you coat - Nothing worse than shitting on the back inside of your coat from splash tremors. This one should've been obvious, but important to point out nonetheless.

2) Cover the toilet seat - The liners that they give you always have a middle portion attached, and can be confusing as to whether you keep it attached for a poop landslide or detach it and hang on to it until the birth process is over. The solution: use strips of toilet paper. I found it to work best because it stays put better. Just remember to check the back of your pants before you walk out to make sure a strip didn't get tucked into your pants by accident. Now THAT is not attractive.

3) Use the Camo-Cough - I know you have all done it. Right at the point of release, the O.P.P. (Optimal Poop Point), give a nice fake cough to cover the boulder splashing sound that will be coming from your stall. Although others may still hear it, it will be somewhat muffled, like a teacher in lecture when your listening to your ipod in the back of class. This is more for courtesy, but if you want to defecate in peace then by all means let loose in stereo surround sound.

4) Listen to music - When you have music blaring in your ear, the sound of burrito shaped dongs doing swan dives beneath you will be buried behind the sounds of your expert music selection. My suggestion would be 'Smooth Operator' by Sade. It is so melodic when on the pooper.

5) Grunt, but only in private - No one likes the grunter in the public bathroom, especially if he or she is grunting to the point where you contemplate asking if they're all right. Only make Sharapova sounds if absolutely necessary, like if it's the 'Dump of the week', which needs no explanation. Otherwise, act as if your trying not to fart in the elevator full of people, unless you know it will be silent and deadly. Then the pointing with eyes blame game happens, and you can just smile and point to the guy next to you. Love that game.

6) Have reading material - Catch up on it. You have time. Relax a bit. This is your hour of power. Your time in the limelight. The only superstar is you. Take all the credit because it's due to you. Make it rain, or, in this case, hail, sleet, snow, and tornado.

7) When flushing, have door open ready to escape - You never know what that toilet is going to do. It may thank you for a job well done and swirl down into the fate of all feces and disappear forever. Or, in worse cases, may come up towards you without warning and flood your ankles with brown, sandy water (Yes, in fact this has happened to me). So, keep the door open, have all your possessions, flush with your foot (only your foot please. If you do it with your hand you might get a mud mask with the worst possible type of mud), and sprint out. If an overflow occurs, you're already halfway to your next destination. Not. Your. Problem. Anymore.

8) Carry yourself proud upon exit - You did it! You've made it to the stall without sharting and exiting without any brown mess on your person. It's a great feeling that we all take for granted, and it's nice to appreciate the bigger things in life instead of focusing on small, unimportant stuff all the time, like your salary or what kind of car you want to buy. Peanuts compared to the gratitude you owe yourself after the accomplishment of not shitting on yourself.

"Follow these rules and you'll have mad bread to break up. If not, 24 years, on the wake up" - Biggie Smalls

"Follow these rules and you'll have mad doose to wake up. If not, 24 dongs, from your leg up" - Jimmy Cababa

April 10, 2010

Dart Coat Hooks

Look Stan, I think that you need to stop drinking that coconut juice and get over here and finish this game of 320 we have going on. I have had enough of your silent wheezing from your nostrils, pretending you're NOT sick from that trip you took down to the amazon river to see if there was really "bodies" of water near it. Really? Have you ever taken a geography class? I mean, the river is a bunch of miles long, with amazon women running around collecting leaves so their families can make more clothes for the community. Seriously, pick up a book for fuck's sake.

Wait, you're done? Why?? What the heck did I come over here for? Your driveway isn't finished, leaving me with rocks in my shoes and semi-dried cement on the bottoms. Yeah, you guessed it pal, these ARE new new balances. Try finding these puppies in your average walking shoe store. NOT HAPPENING. I had to order these fresh from the west coast. I also didn't get offered a frosty beverage when I arrived, my mouth dry as a desert and yearning for even your white cum juice that your so faithfully sipping on. No, no no. It's too late now. I have my orange vanilla cream Shasta soda that your wife gave me because nobody else would drink it. And I was also offered leftovers from Monday from her. Dude, it's Saturday! Your wife is sweet, unlike your selfish ass. But I think she is just trying to pawn off your old ass food so that you don't feel wasteful. And don't think that 20 cents you donate every 6 months to the children of Somalia is doing anything. Donate a real amount, cheap ass jerk.

Oh, I guess I did break that last dart in my last throw. I can't help that I hit the gym 6 days a week, get mistaken for Mark Wahlberg, and have the arm strength of Rocky in that movie Over the Top. Look, it was a simple mistake, and I really want to finish this game. Wait, why don't we use your Dart Coat Hooks where I hung my pea colored pea coat at? They are so shiny, and even though you have them mounted to the wall, we can simply remove them and replace when this game is over! I know, I put my genius on hold often when I hang out with you. It's just that if I don't, then you won't understand anything I am saying. Trust me on this, my low brow imbecile.

See? No clue...

Ok, I am going to remove them from the wall and take my final turn, since I'm going to hit all bull's eye's here anyways. Hey, what are you doing? Don't touch me there? What the...? Seriously?? Keep that dirty probe away from me! I don't care what you named it, just put it down. Slowly, that's it. Now, don't hand it to me. Just set it down. Ok, that's good...

NO! OK OK! I won't take the darts! Just don't stick that brown probe in me anymore!

No, you idiot. I DRIVE a brown probe car! And the story I was telling you was about a guy I rear ended at an intersection! I said that I wish he would've rear ended me so my engine wouldn't have gotten fucked up! You have it all wrong man!

Oh, I have it all wrong. You don't. Ok, this just got awkward for the second time...

April 8, 2010

Chicken

The time has finally arrived: move over veggies, meat is here! After all the long days of working with ground grown things, phallic-shaped objects, and multi-colored visions of said phallic objects, my heterosexuality has stayed fully intact in anticipation of cooking real food. The mere thought of cooking for a vegetarian pop star from Britain gives me the crotch chills. Imagine a chef working with only items like cucumbers, bananas, eggplant, carrots, celery, squash, and zucchini. You're going to sit there and tell me that they haven't had that exceptionally long day prepping these long veggies in different ways and DIDN'T think about how one of those sexy things would feel in a butthole? It's a common thought for vegetarian chefs, and that's why I will never be one. Why run the risk of having those awful thoughts? It could be like eating cows brains. All the studies from Prions, where people who ingest brains that contain the Prion protein develop dementia in a very short time, could very well be the same as deciding to become a vegetarian chef. It's dangerous, incurable, and just a poor choice.

Chicken is interesting in a sense that it is one of the easiest things to cook. We arrived in the kitchen with the excitement of a Great America field trip full of second graders. I know for me, growing up on these field trips, it was a nightmare. I was playing it cool, acting like I was really excited to go on that law suit waiting to happen that everyone else calls roller coasters. Ever watch a documentary on roller coasters? Their theory of how fascinating gravity is and how they can "cheat" it in ways for entertainment purposes. Well, being the scholarly little fella I was, didn't buy this theory that was coming from guys who searched for the Lochness Monster in the off season when not designing roller death structures. So, to say the least, my excitement, although animated, had a false sense of honesty. I knew that disappointment was about to approach. I proceeded with caution.

"Ok class, grab the chicken, cut the thing into 8 parts, rub with oil, and throw in the oven for an hour. Find something to do in the meantime."

The ever dreaded statement: Find Something To Do In The Meantime.

Standing around in a kitchen is like going to Nascar race with a blindfold on. You're supposed to be there to enjoy the fast paced race, hearing the cars drive by with Jimmy Johnson passing Dale Earnhardt Jr AGAIN and making him crash into others out of juvenile rage. Only being able to hear the cars passing is a motor tease, vibrating your private regions with Nascar sensations but without visual stimulation. Being in a kitchen NOT busy has similar false hope. You're brain doesn't have to work as much, but the way any personality is designed in a restaurant is to stay busy, feed the A.D.D, and make the time go by faster. Watching grass grow, feeding a cat or dog by hand, giving blood EVERYDAY, painting the white house WHITE, measuring your member weekly with disappointing realizations of no growth, and working at a post office are all examples of the torture and agony one goes through in a slow kitchen. I immediately tried to stay busy. I occupied my time with the following:

Cleaned my station and everyone elses: 5 minutes

Gutted another chicken. Consulted with assistant chef about castrated chickens and why they are that much better: 10 minutes

Went into grave detail of the movie "Alive" and asked the assistant chef if the humans would have tasted better if they were castrated first: 6 minutes

Watched chef walk away: 1 minute

Stirred something that was on the stove. Contents unknown: 2 minutes

Asked Executive Chef what they did with the castrated parts of the chicken and if they were used for dog chew toys like bull's and ox's dongs, or were they too small: 2 minutes

Watched chef walk away: 1 minute

Played on my iPhone: 33 minutes

Chicken came out perfectly. Cut it up. Ate. Went home.

Bringing a PS3 in this bitch next time. Watch me.

April 1, 2010

Breadman I Love BAGELS BAKER Machine Maker w/ Manual

"So class, this is a very special day. My husband has retreated to the nether lands of the rainforest to look for a new species of grasshoppers that don't hop. He wants to find these so he can have naming rights to them and call them 'grass sitters' and rest in peace for the rest of his days. Of course, I'm NEVER mentioned in these plans of his. It's always ME ME ME! I can't stand it anymore! That's why I'm so glad his crotch-binding-jeans-wearing-ass is far off in a land where I hope he picks up an Arakane hooker and impregnates her. THEN I can have it all MUAHAHAHAHA! Anyways, let's focus people."

"I have brought in with me today my very coveted Breadman I Love BAGELS MAKER Machine Maker w/ Manual. All my desperate housewive neighbors have been trying to steal the manual from me, sending me into the other room when they are over having drinks because they're talking to their 'mistress man' and want some privacy. I know what's really going on though. I take that handy manual with me and stuff it up my skirt so if they want it, then they will have to work for it. You gotta work, Covergirl! Work it girl!"

"Ms. DeFollicle, can you go over the Gettysburg battle at Normandy again?"

"Lil Juan, because that's what they call you on the 'streets', I am not going to go over something that never took place. Now, pay attention or you'll have to clean the urine out of our Fern again. Do you want to do that? I thought not."

"This bad girl has a removable handle, bakery tray, and a manual! The manual is sought out by many ex-coverts, those that may have the maker and didn't give it the love and attention that supposedly children need at a very young age. They seek and kill when they zero in on the sights of a manual, and are trained well from the Bagel Academy to do whatever it takes to 'regain those lost carbs.' Not only are carbs fuel for them, but also a lifestyle. "

"Ms. DeFollicle, can I go to the bathroom?"

"Number one or number two?"

"Two."

"Well, Shit. Hmmm. I'm kinda in the middle of this...Ok. Just go in the Fern but make it fast. And don't get stage fright. It's awkward enough for all of us to PRETEND you're not doing what you're doing."

"So, where was I? Oh yeah! I have the key to bagel eternity! My tum tum will never go hungry ever! It will turn into one giant bagel and the rest of my organs can feed off it for years without failing for lack of nutrients! You know 'Cast Away'? Try a 'Cast Away part 2: Chronicles of The Lonely Bagel.' I'm getting nothing but bagels and paper, bitch!"

"Ms. DeFollicle, can I go to the bathroom also?"

"Ok. Just join Marty over there, but please don't go side by side. squat adjacent to each other for uniformity reasons. That way your backsplash from the plant will only go on the other person, not all over the floor. Lil Juan has had enough foul duty this week."

March 29, 2010

Opening Day Preparations and Guidlines

It's almost here. The best day of the year. Many wait for this day all year long. The typical reaction when the day actually comes and goes is, "Well, only 364 more days until it's here again." It's like counting down to St. Patricks' Day, except opening day has so much more meaning to it. The history that people make out of tradition, and not based on some assclown who has a day named after him even though his ass isn't even Irish. I wish I could have a day named after me that had nothing to do with my background. It would be called, "St Jimmy Cababa's Day", and represent my contributions to the world for being awesome. So I guess it would sort of be like an Earth day, where people think globally and act locally. And by act locally I mean give me large sums of money and gifts to continue "tradition." What a bunch of hooey.

The preparations for this sacred day of the Brewer's home opener are crucial. Everything must be in place and set to go when the day arrives. Poor planning could lead to a disastrous experience, especially when you put Billy Bong Thorton on beer duty. Gotta have the right person for the right job, and here are the detailed steps to take when getting ready for your big day (no, not your wedding you moron. The REALLY big day. Bigger than your stupid vows).

1) Find a vehicle. Nothing sucks more than riding 18 people in a civic. Plan to have at least a truck, pickup if possible, to increase the chances of vomit going over the side of the car instead of in your lap. You can fit more assholes in a truck, and, therefore, can stick it to "The Man" even more (see "Stick It To The Man" below).

2) Purchase team apparel. Yes, you must do this. Don't be that guy that wears his Panera Bread shirt to the game because you "plan" on making it into work later that day. Trust me friend, you won't be able to see straight by 9am. Your bowel movements alone from all the sauerkraut brats you'll be ingesting will not allow you to leave a port-o-john for at least an hour. Then you will have to puke from the smell of your own dung, then go back to shitting a house full of racing sausage matter. Then puke again. It's a dance we like to call, "The The Hokey Pukey Ass Dance." Going back and forth like that will leave you on the floor of the port-o-john, rocking back and forth wishing you hadn't had that 4th brat and shotgunned those last 6 beers, hoping to be discovered by a non-authority figure, counting your blessing because your sense of smell is finally gone and won't return for 6 months.

3) Bring Tums. See above.

4) Print fake tickets. I know, this sounds risky. But think about it: are you going to be coherent enough by game time to even know what is going on in the game? Let alone know where you are and what your name is? Having realized my genius perspective, fake tickets are the way to go.

Why, you ask? Well, in recent years, the police have been checking drunks in the parking lot one hour after the game has started to see if they have game tickets. If you don't have game tickets, they kick your ass out. Plain and simple.

So the idea with the tickets is to scan an actual ticket of the game on medium weight paper (find some dumbass friend of yours that actually bought tickets and borrow one for an hour. Oh, did I mention that this friend of yours will probably be hanging out in the lot with you? Guess where he's not going: in the game. What an idiot).

Once scanned, copy 6 tickets per page and set crop marks. print two sided, then razor blade the serrated edge to make it look as real as possible. Flash the ticket to the cops, tell them to fuck off because you have a ticket and have no desire to go in the game, and throw a hot dog at him. Then get arrested.

5) Once in the lot, park where you want. Don't listen to the parking guys who have their orange flavored popsicles pointing where you should park. A car is faster than a guy with a phallic object chasing after you. Park towards the front. Make your own spot. Set up immediately. Eat dude's popsicle.

6) Make friend's with the people that are cooking steaks. Do people cook too much food? Yes. Do they spend too much money on steaks for a Brewer game? Yes. Help them out. Eat their food for them. They want you to. They do.

7) If you run out of beer, play people in tailgating games with their stuff. Peeps get tired of playing bags or testicle toss with just the people they came with. Make it interesting. Start a game. Have 5 beers on them.

8) Get as drunk as humanly possible. if I have to explain this, then you don't deserve to go to OPENING DAY. See how I used caps when spelling it out? It's called respect, and if you don't get wasted on this sacred day of baseball birth then you are unworthy of attending any other game in the season. Say bye bye to baseball games, you sober, unfun buzzkill.

9) Feel free to accost any mascot in sight. Oh, you decided to wear your bratwurst costume to the game? Prepare to get violated in homosexual ways by every drunk jock in the stadium. You'll be found in the corner with "ketchup" coming out your backside and "mayonnaise" on your face. Yes, it's that graphic.

10) Stick It To The Man. You're already doing this by being there with fake tickets, stealing people's beer and steaks, robbing good parking spots, bombing port-o-john's every which way, and raping innocent mascots with no shame. So, in short, good job.

Follow these simple rules and you will make memories. Hopefully none that involve mug shots.

No, I'm not talking about taking shots out of beer mugs. Seriously, get it together.

March 23, 2010

The Lazy Workout Partner

We have all have that friend, that companion, that acquaintance, who despises the idea of working out. The idea alone gives them ghost adventure chills, the goose bumps that look like meteors on your arms and can be jointly used as scrubbing devices for stained laundry. An idea developed in their brain in a negative way, increasing their desire to stay not thin and watch more cooking shows, because watching cooking shows really doesn't make people hungry. No, they really don't. I swear. I hate watching amazing food being created by some of the world's greatest chefs. I know they are not enjoying those pieces of pork sliced heaven doused in succulent sauce. It's all for show. Those chefs. Such great actors.

With mentally unstable people like these, it may difficult to lure them into the gym. Whether using donuts or guaranteeing future conjugal visits, any method to get them simply in the lobby of a workout facility is challenging. Once inside though, there are some guidelines that you must abide by. Follow every single one, or you will find yourself in a world of fat spew and the uncomfortable stench of sweat from beneath layers of stomach rolls.

1) When running on a track, run at your own pace. You need to get your workout in too. Because they run slower than fast mall walkers doesn't mean you need to keep them company. Lap them 10 times and talk shit every time you pass by. Make them feel inferior. Make them pay for you having to watch such laziness. You owe it to yourself.

2) Find some of the lazy partner's attributes and destroy them. There are people out there that liked to be pushed, and there are others that get pushed away. I like to push people, period. Tell them they read too much about Richard Simmon's tips on working out and need to start listening to you instead. Tell them your 12 year old niece can lift more than them. Let them know that they smell terrible and that showers are NOT optional. Give them advice on who to go to to get facial plastic surgery for a "fresh start." Point out that you haven't seen workout gear like that since the Saved By The Bell singing group Hot Sundae. I'm so excited! I'm so, so scared! (If you don't get this reference, you mean absolutely nothing to me. Go eat some caffeine pills before a geometry exam and then we can talk).

3) Make yourself look better because of your lazy counterpart. You obviously look better than the lazy asshole your working out with. Make it apparent that they're your bitch, and they will do what you say. Trust me, it turns other people on.

4) Let them learn the hard way. Oh, you put too much weight on that bench bar and now you're stuck underneath it? Gosh I'm thirsty. I'm gonna go get some water and be right back. You're cool? Ok then. Don't talk to me. Just keep that bar up against your throat. See if I care. Jerk.

5) Collect money for complaining. I have found this to be one of the most important rules. With lazy fuckers in the gym, they have a tendency to complain, whine, stamp their feet, roll their eyes, give excuses of why they can't lift that 2.5 pound weight, and wander into the locker room after being at the gym for five minutes saying, 'Oh, I thought we were done." Charge $1 for each complaint, having no sympathy and making up more rules as you go. Oh, you have a complaining look on your face. That's a dollar. Long sighs? Dollar. Looking down? Dollar. Being ugly as fucking hell? DOLLAR. Actually 2 for that one.

6) Compliment on a job well done every month. That's right, once a month. If your workout everyday for a month, give a job well done pat on the butt at the end of the month. You don't want to tell them they're doing a good job, because we all know they really, REALLY suck at everything. If you start praising them with gift wrapped compliments, they get this notion that you like them and that you want to be friends. We all know this is extremely far from the truth, and feelings of shame and misguidance have a good chance of settling in if you experience this sort of nonsense. Give it once a month. Plain and simple. Remember, they are inferior, and should feel as such at all times.

7) Outdo them with everything you do. It's inevitable that this will happen anyways, so it's just a friendly reminder. You're awesome.

Make the gym into your own personal Ronald McDonald house. Helping you help others. You can even call it "Ronald's Ugly McLazy house for little bitches, men and women welcome." They will flock in populations to get in the doors.

Not groups, POPULATIONS. That's how many will want your expert workout advice and services. You know that road to success? It's after following these rules. Just fucking do it you lazy piece of asshole ass.

March 17, 2010

LRG Core Collection Chino Pants

Welcome everyone to another KQU Corp seminar! Our motto is, "Find Taupe Dope!" I am so energized that KHAKIS QUALITY US! has brought together so many great minds, searching for opportunities and attaining goals! We have accumulated 3.4 Hundred Thousand Dollars in the last year with sales, poaching ideas, and getting the best scoop on those darned jeans makers. How do they know what quality slacks are made of? How do they figure that they can break out of the pants industry and open in the jacket industry? DOES anyone even LIKE JEAN JACKETS? Hell no! No hell! We have the honor of working with such fine products made by quality companies that use NOT BLUE thread and develop ideas on how to make khakis, simply put, a better tomorrow. There is so much to talk about today that I don't want to get ahead of myself and give away the surprise! Should I give it away? Should I? Should I? Ok I will! Haha! You're all so eager!! I LOVE THE SYNERGY!!!!!

These new pants that have recently hit the market, the LRG Core Collection Chino Pants have taken on the new essence of quality. I'm actually wearing a pair myself, and, let me tell you, I'm turned on right now! It gives me gooey gumdrops in my stomach just thinking about how great these are! With the relaxed fit from my tush to the floor gives fireworks to the world in a "I captured a cougar!" kind of way. The stitching. Oh, the stitching. It's so stitchy! That's all I really have to say about that!

These sexy taupe monstrosities have broke into the star market as well. I believe I got word from one of our motivating street teams that Levar Burton has been seen wearing a pair of these, along with Vitamin C the singer from the 90's who had that catching one hit single, "Smile". She was so hot. SO HOT. Phew! Is it hot in here, or is it JUST ME? HAHAHA my son said that to me the other day when his cousin walked in the room and I thought it would be a nice way to wake everyone back up in this room! C'mon everyone! let's sing our Khaki Anthem! C'mon everyone! Get outta those cumfy seats and get down with yo bad self! My son taught me that one too! Ok here we go!

WE'RE IN LOVE WITH KHAKIS

THEY GIVE US THE BAD HEAT

AND NOT THE HEAT THAT'S REALLY BAD

THE HEAT THAT GIVES YOU SOMETHING RAD

WE DON'T RHYME BECAUSE WE CAN

WE RHYME BECAUSE WE KNOW TAN

AND CREAM AND TAUPE AND OFF WHITE

THEY ALL LOOK DIFFERENT IN SHADES OF LIGHT

WE JUDGE ON WHAT WE KNOW THE BEST

WHICH KEEPS US AHEAD OF THE REST

PLEATED IS FOR THE PAST-ON LOOK

STRAIGHT LEG IS FOR THE RECORD BOOKS

WE WILL FIND THE PERFECT PAIR

OR STAY ON WATCH WITH UNWASHED HAIR

LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA

WE ARE! KHAKI! WE ARE! KHAKI!

Nice work everyone! Now let's get out there and find some more idiot companies that will invest in our services to find the "perfect" uniform for their business! Sell this fake idea! We literally have this non-existent market on lock!