Doing it Bloggy Style

"One morning I woke up and found my favorite pigeon, Julius, had died I was devastated and was gonna use his crate as my stickball bat to honor him. I left the crate on my stoop and went in to get something and I returned to see the sanitation man put the crate into the crusher. I rushed him and caught him flush on the temple with a titanic right hand he was out cold, convulsing on the floor like a infantile retard." - Mike Tyson

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Bathroom Breakdown

For those of you who have had the pleasure of knowing me you may vaguely remember, and in fact would be hard pressed to forget the fact that fart jokes and potty humor seemingly consume my attention. I know, shocking right? This coming from the guy who once described in vivd detail, watching one of his best friends expell liquid poo from his ass off of a 2nd story balcony. Never in a million years!

Poop, feces, doodoo, shit, farts, sharts, diarrhea, crap sandwiches. You're either picturing it in your head or making the noise right now. I don't care what anyone else says because if you deny it you're a liar. It really doesn't matter how ma-tuuure you think you are, poop related activity produces a chuckle at the least (Except when stepped in or found in your food, and in which case poop is similar to plane crashes or herpes; its still funny to everyone except the involved party). Now coming towards the end of my 24th year of existence I can safely say with the utmost confidence in my mastery of mathematics that poop=laughs. No pun intended but certainly applicable, "That shit is funny".

However I think sometimes I forget one of the main aspects of bathroom humor, and that is the bathroom itself. I have so many memories of goofs-a-plenty happening in various bathrooms in my past. I'm not talking about a women's bathroom, because for all I know there could be a German discoteca in those things. I do think that before continuing I must make a very important distinction; public vs. private bathrooms.

For men at least, private bathrooms serve a number of purposes; its really our library, command center, and place of contemplation and relaxation all wrapped into one. Its our special place...our special place that we poop in. Public bathrooms are a completely different bird. As I have pointed out in numerous posts as well as overall life experiences, the word "public", especially when placed in front of a noun, usually can be substitued for "fucking gross". Ergo, public bathrooms typically follow suit. Although having to bear the brunt of what naturally goes along with the public moniker, there is an upside to a bathroom shared with the masses; a lot more funny things happen in a public bathroom.

Just to start, I'm going to go off on a little anecdotal tangent. I know you're probably thinking to yourself, "A tangent sounds great considering the fact he's clearly dedicated this entire post to poop". Well, in May of '08 I was flying back to Milwaukee but I had a changeover in Minneapolis MN. It was really early in the morning and the airport Minneapolis airport was a relative ghost town, and I found myself incredibly bored waiting for my plane. I decided that I should buy a magazine and flip through a few articles while I drop a deuce. I find the closest bathroom to my gate and go inside. After a short period of time I start to notice an amount of traffic that didn't really go with the relative few people I had previously seen in the terminal. Maybe you remember, maybe you live in a cave but a year prior Idaho Senator Larry Craig had been arrested for soliciting gay sex from an undercover cop in a men's room at an airport. In fact I distintcly remember various news reports referring to the particular bathroom he was caught in as, and I kid you not, "A hotbed of homosexual activity". Let's be honest, that's a PC way of saying "There's a lot of dudes blowing a lot of other dudes in this bathroom". As I'm remembering this I start to get just a little nervous, and I type a text to my a friend that said "Hey, what airport did that Senator get caught trying to get a bj from some guy in a bathroom". All the while the words "hotbed of homosexual activity" keep slamming into my brain. Not 30 seconds later I get a response that says one word, "Minneapolis". In an instant I am wiped, zipped, and out the fucking door. Now, I understand that there's probably hundreds of bathrooms in that airport, and only one of them was deemed High Noon at the BJ Corral, so I was proably being way over-cautious. For the most part I consider myslef a betting man, but you'll never catch me wagering my cornhole, that's a god damned fact. One of many specific instance where my opinion of something "public" is 100% correct.

Anywhoo, let's leave the Minneapolis Mouth Party behind and get back to the esteemed topic of poop and bathrooms. One thing I've noticed in the last few years is the very unique concept of the workplace bathroom. Its a unique hybrid type of public bathroom where only a select few people are allowed to use it, yet its still much different from your private shitter. I have a hard time characterizing it; its not a sanctuary and its not a petri dish, its just...different.

Recently I took a new job and I can't halp but think every day about how odd the bathroom situation is. One particular situation happened the other day; I was sitting in a stall and a co-worker sat down as if to do a No. 2, but all he did was fart and then proceed to take the longest pee I have ever heard. It rivaled Jimmy Dugan's record piss in "A League of Their Own", all while sitting down. I simply could not get over how weird the whole thing was. In this new position I work for a group of fund managers that all make very large scale investment decisions, and tend to make a lot of money doing so. On the other hand I am at the bottom of the food chain and do not make very much money, however once through those bathroom doors, we are equals.

The funny part is, I'm sitting in my stall while the rich men who control this serious atmosphere, all the while these guys are all audibly evacuating their bowels. Enormous morning craps, boisterous farts, and all sorts of other rumblings are going on, and for some reason I feel complelled to hold back. I've already established that poop and farts are hysterical and always will be, but yet I don't dare let out a laugh. I'm dying in the stall holding in laughter that is ripping at my sides. I ask myself every day why I can't get past my feeling that I need to silence my giddy childlike glee as I listen to guys these guys uncork a symphony of ass. But then one day it hit me; its not like anyone in the company is deaf, and when there are 4 guys in the bathroom that means everyone must hear every single grunt, splash, squirt, and sweet sigh of relief. This can really only mean one thing, everybody in there is holding back from bursting out laughing just like I am.

I think that may even make the whole thing even funnier imagining 4 grown men all holding in schoolboy laughter while the listen to their respected colleagues take nasty shits. Maybe knowing that we're not supposed to laugh is what makes the whole thing so fucking hysterical. In a way its sort of like how everything is exponentially funnier when you're with your classmates in church; knowing your friend next to you might burst out before you do is half the fun.

So next time you're in a work bathroom go ahead and feel free to throw caution to the wind and blast that toilet with all your might, because, let's be honest, "That shit is funny".



See Ya Internet,
SBB

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Miss Me Much?

I've gotten a few text and emails asking why I haven't posted anything recently. I that after almost a year now you're all accustomed to having me blast you knowledge all over you like some kind of horny wizard, but honestly this one isn't my fault. I haven't been able to keep up the frequency of my posts lately due to my serious lack of a functioning computer. Why is that you ask? Well maybe my deeply rooted need for barely legal foreign smut has finally given my laptop a death virus? Maybe I sold my computer to some weird african guy from my neighborhood for $100? The reason why is beside the point, but soon I will be coming back like John McLean in the third installment of the Die Hard series; with a g-d vengance.

Trust me, I've seen some whacky shit in the last month and I'm more than excited to tell all you little bitches about it soon. You'll probably be so happy from all the ROFL-ing and LOL-ing that you'll be begging to S my D ASAP.


To entertain you for the time being I have included some of my favorite recent videos, both of which revolve around the most wonderful dance of all time... The Dougie


and a dougie Amateur gets what he deserves...


Dougie Out
SBB

Monday, August 2, 2010

People Watching

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Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Booty Pop and the Art of Being Lawyered

Are you there internet? It's me, Joe. I'll admit that for the last few weeks I have been rather sporadic with my posting so far this summer. Only to highlight my lack of posting, I was forced to delete one of my longer narrative tales, some of my best work if I do say so myself. I decided it was best to take it down because of the amount of people contacting me trying to find out who the mystery girl was. Assuming that it would probably eventually get back to her, and knowing that females as a gender are irrational beings, she might just freak out. Personally the whole thing was meant as a compliment, but whatever, no skin off my ass, wait errrrrr....that sounded gay.


Now, if you are the kind of person whose initial reaction to hearing anything potentially negative about females is to call someone a male-chauvinist then just hear me out. Also, I'm wondering why you are even reading this right now because you probably think I'm a rapist (is it weird that I'm mobile-blogging from my van?)


Anywhoo, as for my lack of posting recently all I can say is that I'm sorry, but this summer I've been feeling a little uninspired. That is until today.


I was watching True Life today and I heard a mother tell her daughter that women have sex with their heart while men have sex with their peepees (exact words). Well I'm 23 and I can tell you that in the half-dozen or so times I've had sex, never once has my penis touched a wet  tight heart. Never went down and ate a woman's heart. Am I doing it wrong? Judging by the amount of porn I've seen in my day I just don't think so.


I have had an ongoing discussion with a friend of mine over the last few months and we have come to the conclusion that women like to tell themselves that they are fundamentally different from men when it comes to the concept of sex. You may be wondering what the hell I am talking about, well let me indulge you...


It happens all the time, just about every guy and every girl has been a part of this very scenario; a guy walks up to a girl in a bar and his intentions are pretty clear but it uaually ends with... "Whatever, nice try weirdo but nobody here is interested". The the girl turns back to her friends and vents over her crantini about how every time they go out they get hit on by some random guy, and how there are no good relationship quality men around for her or her friends. Yeah, you're all just a bunch of victims. As a guy I can attest to the fact that the male half of the human species will pretty much have sex with anything. As a matter of fact there are a few women on this earth that as long as they let me I wouldn't have much of a problem poking my peener into flesh wound somewhere on their body, but do with that what you will.


That being said, what my friend and I don't seem to understand is why so many women constantly go through life pretending as if men's advances are so unwanted; deep down her and I both know she came to this bar for the exact same reason I did. You came out because you were hoping that you might find someone in the same situation, someone that might just want to have sex with you. Yeah huh, it sure is so just admit it to yourself. If I just wanted to get drunk with some friends we wouldn't each be spending $100 and elbowing every asshole in town to get the bartender's attention. Nope we'd be at someone's apartment drinking two cases, but like I said before we're all here for the same reason. If you don't agree with me yet just ask yourself this, why did you spend 2 hours getting ready? Why did you get so dressed up? Why are you wearing shoes that make you look like a Chinese foot binder? Why on God's green earth would you ever get a wax? If you say you do these things to look and feel good that's a bold faced lie and you know it because if that was the case you would dress like that by yourself at home. Yeah and I came here and started talking to you because I desperately need another friend in my life that vehemently refuses to have sex with me. You did all those things so that when you came here, whether you realize it or not, because you want some of that ass.


Sure there are plenty of differences between men and women, but the fact that we came here to get busy isn't one of them. If that's the case (and it is) then why do so many women convince themselves that they are fundamentally different? How can women and men possibly not see perfectly eye-to-eye on this? How could we actually be that different? After all we are both over 99% genetically identical as chimps, and chimps may I remind you, throw feces at each other. 


There's a point, I swear.


Since we're both here at this bar for a reason, I find it so puzzling that women have convinced themselves they're so above the situation while complaining to their friends over a riesling about nobody in the bar is relationship worthy. "If another guy comes up to me trying to fuck me I'm going to flip. What a creep!". You know what, that's fine because you shouldn't have to feel the brunt of every horny guy but the fact that it happens to you doesn't for a minute give you the right to act like you're any better. What I think women don't want men to know is that the only thing really holding up their transparent claim that they're out dolled up at the bar and not looking to bump is their ability to easily take the high road. They can shut you down because they can make you think (and make themselves think the same) that they are here for a completely different reason. That is until we found out about these...I give you the mother fucking booty pop


Are you fucking serious? A Booty Pop. Intentions have ever been more clear. Don't even try the "I just want my clothes to fit better" defense. Yeah, that's why I stuff socks down the crotch of my khakis, to make them fit better. You bought them, just like you have push-up bras because you don't think guys will be interested in you unless you have bigger tits or a fat ass. You're not here for sex in some way shape or form? Ah Hah! Fact. Kaboom. You've been lawyered.  If I ever went home with someone and found out they were wearing a booty pop I would (assuming my penis doesn't wilt while making a the same noise a baloon makes while deflating) I would make her keep them on, cut a whole in the back and fuck her straight up her booty-pop ass. Oh yeah, and I would tell every single person I know.


Amirite? Amirite? Honestly SBB would like to hear what the fairer sex has to say on the matter, so post it as a comment and just try not to be too much of a bitch about it. Ok, great!


Obnoxiously 80's video of the day, from Icehouse

Yo homes, smell ya lata
SBB

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Merking of the Year


As this summer has rolled into full swing here in July I have realized that SBB has been up for over 8 months. Since this blog is my proverbial baby I can't help at the juncture but to make the analogy that my little baby is crowning. (I can see it now, its little head poking out...its...its...a blog! A blog with a gigantic weiner!) See what I did there?
Low brow pregnancy joke, check.

Lately I've been thinking to myself, in between sending chain emails laced with bizarre smut and stealing neighborhood children's pets, that something may be missing from my blog baby SBB. Then it came to me; with the amount of senseless awards that are handed out seemingly every day, why shouldn't I give an annual award? Well Joe, how can you give out awards when you don't really know anyone. Who would you give them to? You have 3 friends, two of which are imaginary and the last one being a goldfish. Silence yourself you silly little pixie living behind my ear! Where did you come from anyway? You never used to criticize me when I was still boning the chubby pharmacist technician at CVS for continuous refills of my special special pills. 
Low brow paranoid schizophrenia and substance abuse joke, check.

Since my blog seems to serve as the voice of my ridiculous opinions and my observations of life from atop my high horse, I think that it would only be fitting if my awards followed suit. To decide what the award should be given for I had to go back and think of some of the things I have seen happen this calendar year. After countless hours of mulling it over mastur de-bating it in my head I came to a decision...
Low brow whackin it joke, check.

I think the one thing that has pervaded the entire span of 2010 has been the incredible amount of large scale merkings that have happened. For those of you who aren't hip enough to be familiar with my suburban prep school hybrid version of ebonics that so many of us white breads like to speak, a merking is when someone or something receives an ass-smashing of epic and embarrassing proportions. Not to be confused with a merkin, but we'll get into that at another date. To better illustrate the interpretation of someone or something getting merked I have provided some examples...


Tommy Zbikowski handing out a merking in the ring...




II Kings 2:23-24: The Biblical merking
23 From there Elisha went up to Bethel. As he was walking along the road, some youths came out of the town and jeered at him. "Go on up, you baldhead!" they said. "Go on up, you baldhead!" 24 He turned around, looked at them and called down a curse on them in the name of the LORD. Then two bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths.
Get the idea? 42 children being mauled by bears; straight merking. Well, then without further adieu I give you, the nominees thus far for Merking of the Year 2010.


1.) Haiti. We got the year started off with one whopper of a merking. In January a giant earthquake destroyed the capital city of Port -au-Prince and an estimated 200,000 people died. All over the place people were raising money for aid for the survivors of the ginormous merking they were handed. I guess it takes a natural disaster to guilt humanity into recognizing that everything about Haiti sucks. It was a giant pile of stinky poverty before the earthquake, and now the homeless survivors have to clean up an entire city of ruins and 200,000 dead bodies. Haiti was so merked that George Clooney pooled all of his self-important buddies for a Save Haiti telethon; pretty selfish to ask normal citizens for their hard earned dollars when we all saw you and your buddies steal hundreds of millions of dollars from all those casinos. Haiti, seriously merked.


2.) Lindsay Lohan. I never would've thought that the girl the unstoppable set of redhead boobs from Mean Girls could fall so far. What can I say that hasn't already been said; she fell from "I'm a pseudo-lesbian coke whore" tree and hit every branch coming down. Studios won't hire her, androgynous DJ's wont date her, and as of last week after 2 DUIs and 9 probation violations she is being sent to the bootyhouse. What I never understood was why law enforcement never looked into her British identical twin for some of these crimes, and to imagine Lindsay took the rap for all of them. Its that kind of loyalty that's going to make her a great asset to any one of the many prison gangs she's going to encounter. Lohan: ginger merked.


3.) The Gulf Coast. For 75+ days and counting the deepwater horizon offshore oil drilling site has been spewing oil into the Gulf of Mexico as if if were Kirstie Alley's toilet after an entire afternoon at White Castle. What is so incredible is the fact that this is a merking that just won't stop. It seems like for the last 2.5 months the have sat around shrugging their shoulders and saying "Welp, sorry we merked ya Gulf of Mexico...Fix it? Haha, I mean we'll try, but let's be honest here, we don't have any fucking clue what to do". In a way, watching this thing unfold makes me think of a little kid tapping on a fish tank with his finger and having the whole tank shatter and everything inside pour onto the floor and die, except its not really a fish tank but the Shedd  Aqaurium. Whoopsiedaisy Gulf, sorry for the merking.


And finally...
4.) Anyone within earshot of Mel Gibson. We all thought that this was over when he got pulled over blind drunk in 2006 and unleashed a whirlwind of remarks about his hatred of Jews. Boy were we wrong. In the last 2 weeks we have found out (thanks to his snitchin' ass ex-girlfriend) that Mad Max has a real bad potty mouth, and as it turns out its not just Jews he hates. In his terrible yet incredibly hilarious taped phone conversations he goes on to hand out merk burgers to just about anyone except for exceptional white Catholics like myself. Jews: merked, Mexicans: merked, Blacks: merked, gays: merked, estranged ex-girlfriend's faces and teeth: merked, Mel's career: merked?


So there are the nominees for merking of the year 2010, SBB would love to hear your votes, and none of that liberal hippie "the devastation in Haiti and LiLo's downward spiral shouldn't even be put in the same category" mumbo jumbo because in my world it can. Just view it through my scope, none of these merkings happened to me or have any real direct impact on my life and therefore are funny. Vote on, little bitches.


Ridiculously 80's music video of the day, brought to you by the rocker/space captain Rick Springfield

Merking the interwebs one blog post at a time. 
SBB





Tuesday, June 29, 2010

World Cup Shmerld Cup

So on Saturday the USA soccer team was eliminated from the World Cup by Ghana by a dramatic extra time goal. Strangely enough, seconds later millions of Americans immediately remembered that soccer is gay.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm a full-blown patriot through and through and I love the concept of international competition, but as an American I can just never bring myself to appreciate the World Cup. As Americans we have dominated the world of international sports for over 100 years, but I refuse to submit to the powers of soccer simply because of its worldwide appeal, for more than enough reasons. But before I get into why soccer sucks, let me just preface it by saying this...

This is America (pronounced 'Merica) and for 200 years we have served as the leaders of industry, business, scientific exploration, progressive thought, and yes even sports. The thing is, here in undeniably the greatest country in the world, soccer is a sport for 6 year-olds and overzealous, clueless mothers who have nothing better to do than pull their jeans up to their nipples. There is no arguing the fact that in the US, the athletic Mecca, soccer has been relegated to the basement of sport. I'm not saying that World Cup caliber soccer isn't a sport and that soccer players are all gay. No, not at all, because generalizations like that aren't true, like when I say that all Asians turn into Gremlins if you feed them after midnight when deep down I know that probably only half of them are actually Gremlins, but I digress. What I'm saying is, if America doesn't give a shit about soccer right here in our own backyards and local athletic fields, then why are people still getting strong-armed into believing that we're supposed to care about the World Cup?

Let's be honest, we're not any fucking good at soccer, and there's an obvious reason for that. Here in America we focus on sports that aren't lame like basketball, baseball, golf, and football. We'll never be in the upper echelon of soccer because our athletes are out smashing the world's fuckbox in every other sport known to man. But why is it that soccer gets left in the dust? This is the country where every opportunity imaginable is available to you as long as you work hard and have a little bit of skill, the kind of opportunities that aren't available anywhere else in the world. That being said, if you can't make it here, then you've got a problem. There's no easy way of saying this to you soccer, but we're gonna have to let you go.

Being that soccer was cut from the proverbial Freshman B Team here in the great US of A, any place that soccer can thrive is a little suspect for me. In the land of freedom and opportunity soccer has failed but yet it still reigns supreme for entire countries and continents. So the question is, what has been ignored that has allowed the sport of soccer to climb to the top. maybe we should take a look...

South and Central America, a place where beautiful women walk along the beaches in thongs 'aint half bad. It also happens to be a place where it is widely accepted that the drug cartels and criminal organizations have much stronger and more intact infrastructures than their national government's. Children are kidnapped at alarming rates while civilians and tourist are trapped in busses and burned alive for their wallets and purses, but heck, their soccer teams roll on mother fuckers.

Spain & Portugal are playing each other as I type this, a match-up of soccer titans. My first question, one that I assume a lot of other people are asking is, who the fuck is footing their bill? These two nations' flat out refusal to pay their fucking taxes has caused a debt crisis that has essentially tied an Acme anvil to the ankle of other European countries and capital markets. But that Christiano Ronaldo sure is dreamy.

Africa, I saw Blood Diamond and that place seems like it really sucks. Its a place where even I am struggling to find something tongue and cheek to say about it. At the forefront of the AIDS epidemic and where hundreds if not thousands of people starve to death every single day. Hosting arguably the largest spectator even in the world in Africa seems to me at first glance like having an impromptu dance party in the recreational yard of jail. Don't sound to fun to me, especially because the only hot dance beats are coming from one of those stupid fucking vuvuzelas. If soccer is all they've got, then maybe that's a testament to how dire things really are. Ghana, seriously? Jesus, let them have a win or two, it looks like they need it.

All I'm saying is we need to take a breather on this whole World Cup Shmerld Cup thing, because as of right now its a collection of countries that kinda suck playing a sport that an overwhelming amount of people here don't care about. Let's not forget, when we hosted the Cup games back in 1994 all the spectators, more appropriately named "dirty ass foreigners" literally urinated everywhere. The Blue Line tunnels still reek like piss. Thanks World Cup, smell ya later.

Now that the US has been eliminated, if I actually cared about soccer I'd be riding Team Germany, because Germans don't take shit from anyone and that's pretty American of them, plus they have a badass dude named Schweinsteiger who does some serious smashing. Smash on, Schweinsteiger.
"Sure I've been called a Xenophobe, but the truth is I'm not. I honestly feel that America is the best country and all other countries aren't as good. That used to be called patriotism."
Ridiculous 1980's music video of the day; Tarzan Boy by Baltimora

Monday, June 21, 2010

I have no words

Honestly I don't even know what to say. My girl KP and her mammary masterpieces have gone and done it again, finally proving to me that it really is OK for grown men to cry. I am not ashamed in any way to admit that "California Gurls" has already been my summer jam for weeks, and I have patiently been waiting for the moment that I can fist pump to it out of the passenger side (no scrubs) window of Pat McHugh's Jeep. I can't tell whether to be completely awed by the video or to be incredibly frightened by it. It obviously encapsulates everything in life that I hold dear, that being KP, her immaculate chest, a fully interactive version of Hasbro's Candyland board game, and my homie Snoop who SBB is both inspired by and dedicated to. But I am also a wee bit scared because the either the video director Matthew Cullen has been able to build some Hot Tub Space Shuttle Machine and fly to an amazing Utopian world where Katy Perry frolicks amongst cotton candy clouds and sprays whipped cream out of her jugs, OR he has figured out how to access my wet dreams while I sleep. I guess neither one really bothers me that much, and on second thought, this man may be a complete genius.

However, maybe he doesn't deserve all the credit, because deep down I'm pretty sure I somehow created this music video with my brain. After all, it is moi who closes his eyes and wishes for a world where this scenario can exist every time I feel scared or lonely.

2 more elements of proof that I may have wished this video into existence with my brain.
       1.) At the 2:12 mark in the vid she steals my favorite go-to Spring Break dance move
       2.) The 3:24 mark is an almost exact depiction of what happened in my pants while I watched this video

Thank you Matthew Cullen,
Thank you perverted childlike brain of mine that seemingly willed this video into existence,
...and most of all...
Thank you Jesus, for it was you who died on a cross so that I may have eternal life & have KP melt my popsicle with her sun kissed skin

Amen
SBB

Post Script: Some gayrod at YouTube won't let me post the embedded video straight to the blog, so I can only provide the link right now, mea culpa