at the car wash

i went to clean my car on saturday.

wait.

i just realized, that i've been blogging my weekend backwards.

anyway.

i went to clean my car on saturday. the tiny blue ride was starting to look god awful and i just couldn't stand by that. but the interesting thing about the car wash is the sort of people one sees while waiting for the inevitable.

but it always amazes me how people's cars sometimes reflect their perception of themselves. take this gentleman. he's out in his superfly, extra large, gas guzzling ride with the upsized rims. and to be fair, he's a big guy. the chairman is a big guy, so he prefers a ride that he's comfortable with. the fact that he has to pay upwards of 60 dollars to fill the tank is neither here nor there.

what was the attention getter for the bastard (aside from the fact that he walked around the car wash like someone had shoved a broom handle up his rear) was that he was wearing a wwe tshirt from like 5 or six years ago with one of the rock's catch phrases, "laying the smack down". and the bastard just felt like this person was a cartoon of body building. big car, big rims, big walk, ridiculous t-shirt that prompts the thought, "christ what an asshole". i mean, he may not be but i think you can smell what the bastard's cookin'.

—the bastard

...on the filth

"hey kid"

"huh?"

"hey kid"

"what?"

"i gotta a bag of porn here. five bucks for the whole bag"

"ummmmmm, no thanks"

"ya sure kid? i got a bagga fulla porn here."

"ummmmm, yeah i'm sure"

the chairman's commute is never dull.

—the bastard

...on vocabulary

...special weekend vermin edition


so this morning, the bastard was watching the new york one news.

and let me start off by telling you that there is a rat problem in harlem.

and of course, they ran it every hour right after the rail and road report.

and then it hit me. it doesn't take much scholastically to be a manhattan state senator.

“Obviously the building is responsible for this garbage, and obviously they're not containerizing their garbage properly,”

—Democratic Manhattan State Senator Bill Perkins

is containerize even a word?

the bastard looks it up and much his surprise, it is. still and all, it sounds like a made up word. the bastard wishes he could show you the video footage so that you can really see the way it's said (maybe i'm just down on politicians these days). but i'm sure it'll be run on ny1 all weekend, so look for it.

so we'll have to settle for this video footage:



because sometimes, you have to sit through uncle junior singing about a news network once in a while.

—the bastard

this is what's wrong with everything in this world

"okay, i'm going to get stuff by the dryer," exclaims my ladyfriend

"ok"

"watch the chicken for me"

"ok"

tongue planted firmly in my cheek, the bastard picks up this weeks issue of time out new york because hell, this week is about how your family fucks you up and i stand in the kitchen waiting for her to get back upstairs.

it's called the setup. please try to keep up.

but as i was flipping through it i saw this:

i saw this guy once on the new york one. he runs a studio that does nude yoga. now that's not really the shocking/wrong part. the shocking wrong part is he's wearing a onesie. a fucking ONESIE!!!!!

for those of you that don't have kids, a onesie is a one piece shirt underwear set that babies wear and it has little buttons so when your baby craps his/her drawers, you can change their diaper and have them reclothed instantly.

it's not for making yoga more disturbing.

i mean look at him, he looks like he took a dump in his yoga onesie.

it's disturbing.

OW! OW! OWWWWWW! my eyes, MY EYES!

then my girlfriend came back upstairs and we made dinner and watched television. and even though the nightmare of the adult male onesie will never go away, it was still a good night.

—the bastard

...brain turning to mush

maybe it's the shipping. maybe it's just because this online show has a character named batlle pope. maybe it's acapulco shirted christ with little orphan annie eyes but, i couldn't resist this ad. so here it is.

enjoy.

go on.

enjoy!

fine see if i care. frikkin jerks.

—the bastard

...this is why i love this business

now the bastard and left hand rob have been collecting and joking and re-joking about our great love for the inadvertent off color phrasing in the hunting business. but this week has found us our grand daddy of them all.

and lobster and i hope to the big baby jesus that this company has t-shirts.

because we gotta get some.

lobster and i first came across sporting wood creations, in the convention floor plan of the gun show we're going to next week but apparently the prince of sales had seen this in the snow man's cube while talking to him and immediately had to show us. it's gold kids.

fucking gold.

i am a new man.

—the bastard

this just in...

the silver k

just came in

trimphantly.

in his hand

was a bag full of wii

eww

—the bastard

...next to godliness

hey.

guy from big fishy magazine who look like he trying to look like ernest hemingway

i know that you folks aren't happy with your new set of neighbors here.

i mean hell, we can't miss the dirty looks.

but for christ sake hemingway.

when you finish taking a piss.

could you please,

wash your fucking hands.

i mean come on, you and mitchell leave your little area like 10-15 times a day to go smoke out on 32nd street and park so you must already have the brownest fingers in murray hill.

wash your hands.

i don't wanna talk to you either.

just wash your hands.

we have the running water.

use it.

soapy soapy.

rinse.

dry. you see, no talking involved whatsoever.

just wash your hands. thanks.

—the bastard

...on collisions

on the way home from dinner at my ladyfriends tonite, while taking the expressway, i almost got clipped.

now, i'll be fair.

i was stuffy.

my eyes were stinging from my ladyfriend's cat.

and the cab wouldn't let me get into the exit lane, so i invented an opportunity. then he proceeded to try and take my front end off. he then got back onto the expressway as i exited and i went on my way.

well he sure told me.

well medallion number 9099, i came this close to filing a complaint with the taxi limousine commision and then decided that while you were driving unsafely, i helped you along the way. however, the ting is, the bastard is a vindictive son of a bitch and it was only the pompous that i'm better than that.

and i'm better than you.

so i decided against it.

your welcome dick. and i can't wait until you have to choose between feeding your family that night or buying that gps system that your going to have shell out for one day soon which will make behavior like this so much easier to keep trck of. in fact i hope you choke on it big man.

—the bastard

gold

"hey k, we've found ourselves a decent lunchroom", pipes the bastard

"i have plans today, my friend is in from san francisco"

"oh well, hey what's that outside?"

"what?"

"holy crap!"

"what?"

"holy crap!"

"what?"

"holy crap!"

"there's a guy napping down there"

"down where?"

"down there. justice, do you have a camera?"

"the editor has it locked up at the moment so no"

"dammit, this is gold. fucking gold! look at him! all fat and his gut hanging out and i don't have a camera to document this!"

"his shoes are off too", chimes sara voids.

"do you have a camera?"

"a little one", she replies.

"i have to get a picture of this"

the p cat walks in, "what do we have here?"

"guy sleeping on the scaffolding down there"

"it's pure gold!"

"well", retorts the p cat, "that's your union dues hard at work there"

then we had lunch

—the bastard

...on local color

the bastard couldn't resist this. i can't say the word "junk" around left hand rob without venturing into the lowbrow category. so in the case of junk problems, we have a solution. enjoy, lobster. go on! enjoy!

—the bastard

lowbrow

you know sometimes the bastard can't resist a lowbrow joke. especially when it's this lowbrow. there you have it.

—the bastard