I’ve always been blessed with a shockingly good memory. For instance, one time when I was in my mid-twenties, I shocked my mom by describing the home we lived in until I was three. I mean, I remembered the exact layout of every room and closet. “What else do you remember from that age?” she asked, curious to know what kind of stuff stuck in my head. Well, I remembered finding an axe handle in the field behind our house, I remembered waiting for a new couch to be delivered, and I remembered the first time I dropped the f-bomb. Continue reading

I read today that Taco Bell has decided to go “upscale” with its menu, by which I assume they mean they will stop recycling food from Guatemalan trash heaps. I don’t mean to pick on Taco Bell. I know there are plenty of other fast food restaurants with horrible food that does horrible things to your colon, and truth be told I used to love going on late night drunken Taco Bell runs until my plumber told me that my toilets couldn’t handle that kind of abuse. But let’s not fool ourselves here, Taco Bell. No one looks to you when they want quality food. And I mean no one. Continue reading

When I was done with college, which is to say when college was done with me, I spent about five months living with my parents, doing nothing. That this was not uncommon for someone in my position was of little comfort to my parents who were eager to see me make something of myself besides drunk. The deal was that as long as I was looking for a job, my parents (my mom, really) wouldn’t interfere in any way. After two months with no sign of me doing anything more productive than showing up at the dinner table, however, the subtle hints began popping up. It started with finding the Classifieds lying outside of my bedroom door, and ended with a statement designed to brook no argument: “You need to go find a job.” Continue reading

Boys tend to go through a phase during which they are fascinated by fire. This phase begins around the age of two, and ends with cremation, whether that cremation was intentional or not. When boys are young, we mainly keep them flame-proof with constant supervision and the kind of over-melodramatic warning parents can get away with when their kids are (let’s be honest here) fucking idiots. By the time boys close in on their twentieth birthday, they’ve got something vaguely resembling a clue (just barely) and spend most of their time chasing girls anyway. But in between, there is a span of three to five years where they are very likely to engage in what appears to be, by almost any standard, brain damaged behavior. “Hey! Let’s soak these grass clipping in gasoline, stuff them in this propane tank nozzle and light the whole thing on fire!” The following story fits into that category. Continue reading

It’s not healthy to live in a constant state of nostalgia, I know that. To endlessly wander around the recesses of your mind, lovingly recounting those magical, long-lost days is to ignore the wonder and joy that exists right in front of you every single day, namely the fact that technology has advanced to the point where you can now watch porn during a funeral. Still, there are periods of my life that I find myself returning to again and again, not so much out of a sense of loss and longing, but as a pleasant reminder of what it was like to be young and irresponsible to the point of constant felonious behavior. I’m speaking, of course, about college. Continue reading

Work is still a stress factory combined with mind-numbing meetings, so I’m going the video route again. No post today, I’m too wiped to think straight. Feel free to ask for your money back. I will honor all requests, and by “honor” I mean “send you a large box filled with dog feces”, so maybe you shouldn’t ask for anything at all. I mean, unless you’re into dog feces. You fucking weirdo. Continue reading

I was thinking about my job benefits today, when I remembered that I have long term disability insurance. For those of you who don’t know, this is a gamble your employer takes on your behalf: “Greg is a very valuable and skilled employee. But let’s be honest here, he’s kind of nuts. So let’s pay a company some money so that when he chops his hands off mowing the lawn on ether, they can pay his salary and we won’t have to feel guilty for firing his handless ass.” Continue reading

For those of you who are mentally retarded or have been living in a coma on the surface of the sun for the last forty years, Led Zeppelin is an utterly kick ass rock band that dominated the 1970’s, and rocked so fucking hard that groupies are still walking funny to this very day. Seriously, rock and roll scientists at the Institute For Killer Riffs And Blown Minds estimate that if every Zeppelin fan on Earth were to play Communication Breakdown at top volume simultaneously, the resulting blast would tear a hole in the fabric of spacetime, ending the universe as we know it. And that would still be less intense than seeing them play live. Continue reading

I know this is going to come as quite a shock to you, but I’m kind of an unorthodox dude, and I’ve got some rather wacky ideas. Unfortunately, society tends to frown upon some of my more outlandish ideas. “Greg,” they’ll say, “a topless car wash isn’t legal under any circumstances. Having one to raise money for your day care bill doesn’t change that.” Fucking whiners. There are all kinds of things like that that I can’t do. I can’t push a baby stroller full of steaks through the zoo, I can’t hang out near the bank dressed as the Hamburglar, and I can’t even go grocery shopping without pants. This is bullshit. Continue reading

A couple of weeks ago, I posted an excellent example of horrible, horrible porn acting. I was thinking about that today, when it dawned on me that the concept of excellent porn acting would be even funnier. I mean, everyone knows that the only two skills someone needs to be in porn are a pleasing physical appearance and a willingness to do foul, depraved shit that would make a monkey blush. IQ does you no fucking good when you’re getting reamed out by three guys, and if you start quoting Hamlet’s soliloquy while you’re defiling that barely legal teen, you’ll find yourself in the unemployment line with left-handed shortstops, philosophy majors, and other people with no marketable skills. Continue reading