First off, if you’re not drunk then you should be. And since you’re drunk, or stupid, it seems like such a good idea. So you totally throw yourself into it because, hey, if you’re gonna eat Taco Bell then you may as well eat a Seven-Motherfuckin’-Layer burrito AND a motherfuckin’ Gordita AND some…
“If the for-profit industries in this country had their way, they’d rather the entire population remain diseased, addicted to food additives, doped up on pharmaceuticals, and paying a thousand dollars a month for prescriptions.”—Mike Adams, The Seven Laws of Nutrition (via chemicalfreeskinny) (via veganexperiment)
You are not Martin Luther King Jr. Planning an event at the Lincoln Memorial on the anniversary of King’s monumental speech is an ill-fated attempt at comparing yourself to a brilliant and iconic figure and it makes me physically ill.
It’s the late show on a Saturday night in Columbus, Ohio. I’m halfway through my set and I mention Barack Obama. Some scattered boos. Which is normal. Somebody always hates the president, no matter who that president might be. In this case, the president is Obama and I am a fan, so I always ask…
This is a great example of how people and the power of the web can help… @Surfrider ‘s new www.beachapedia.org
Beachapedia tries to capture decades of experience and knowledge gained by Surfrider Foundation activists, scientists and staff through hundreds of environmental and educational campaigns on our coasts. By sharing this resource with the public we hope to provide tools and information to help communities make a positive impact on their local beaches.
My wife and I have been in a Mexican Standoff for days. We have a trash can in our bathroom and have been adding our son’s dirty (pee only) diapers daily. The stench of baby piss is getting to be too much for me but she won’t let on if it is bothering her. Neither one of us wants to acknowledge the smell or say anything about it at all. We simply go about our day and wait to see who breaks first. So far it has been five days and no one has budged. No matter how this plays out, no one is the winner. We will have both subjected ourselves to the nauseating smell and acted like immature, stubborn fools for days simply to prove a meaningless point.
(The trash can in question)
I can’t take it anymore and I officially concede as of tomorrow morning (unless, of course, my wife caves first and takes it out before I do, then she is clearly the weaker willed of the two of us and I will ridicule her mercilessly).
We had a party last night in the back yard: kegs, booze, food, DJ, pissed off neighbors, the whole nine. People partied. People danced. People fought. People got thrown out. We partied like we did in our 20’s.
We did keg stands and drank martinis. We danced to old school hip hop and chilled by the fire pit. Good times with good friends and new friends and acquaintances.
We fell into bed around 2 or 3am and slept immediately. I soon realized that it’s not 1999 and I am not the same guy from years ago who could bounce back and manage hangovers. Nope, I am now dead to the world and a mess with a pounding head and nausea.
I reek of booze and fire smoke. My backyard isn’t as trashed as I thought it would be. I have almost a full keg leftover. Apparently I washed dishes and cleaned my kitchen before bed in my drunken state.
Now I’m picking up the pieces and nursing my hangover. I’m exhausted and sore. My wife invited people over to drain the keg. I am getting older now and don’t even want to think about beer. I have kids and papers to write and need to function. Ok, after today no more… =^)
“You used to be able to tell the difference between hipsters and homeless people. Now, it’s between hipsters and retards. I mean, either that guy in the corner in orange safety pants holding a protest sign and wearing a top hat is mentally disabled or he is the coolest fucking guy you will ever know.”—Chuck Klosterman (via quietbeginnings)
Moustache’s are back in a big way and I am currently part of that movement. Check out this gem…
HANDLEBAR™ the stylish way to open your bottles
The ‘stache is back! Only this time, it’s not just a fashion statement. It’s also a finely crafted corkscrew and bottle-opener. Because beverage containers are no match for the sheer power of a manly moustache.