Sunday, November 14, 2010

a little something something.

I've been fucking off for awhile. Figured it was high time to drop some knowledge on you pricks.

Spanish trashcan. Pretty cool.

When I was told a photograph was about to be taken, I instantly reverted to what I would have done, given the same situation if I was 15. Mission Accomplished.

Nked Dwdz

This is TeTe. He is part bullfighter, part Joe Strummer impersonator.I dont have a best friend, but i think it's TeTe.

If I was to wear this in Mexico to a punk show, I'd probably get the tan beaten off my ass, yet in this country its no problem to wear a sombrero to a Latino punk gig. Keep in the mind I was once referred to as an antisemite in said country. Germany. Wow.

The only good thing about European squats is that they allow you the freedom play games involving( but not limited to) house hold cleaning products, placed on top of a fooseball table and set up like bowling pins while people jump off couches and try to knock them down.

it was a very good meal

I love this dude, but come the fuck on. Sometimes for make it too goddamn easy to fuck with you.

Matt told me that I've been doing this since we were 13. I'm pretty sure its still really funny as hell.

Everybody always says" Man, those squats are so fucking cool. It must be so great to hang out and stay at em everyday for 6 weeks." Well have at it mother fucker.

Hey there little guy!

Heres a little story. Once opun a time there was a guy named Logan. He sat in a van all day in the rain for what felt like an eternity. It was cold and he was bored, so to kill some time and make his friends laugh, he put a condom in Victors afro. The End.

When life gives you lemons, lounge on a couch in Madrid with fine girls.

Bad to the Bone. I concur.

All and all it was a good time.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

GG interview

Stumbled across this the other day. Really made me happy. Thought Id share it with ya'll.

J. Cruelty vs. G.G. Allin via telephone

The following interview was conducted via U.S. Sprint shortly before G.G. Allin's untimely death. G.G. sounded kind of hoarse over the telephone, and he would break off mid-sentence to clear the phlegm out of his throat. All of us were shocked and saddened by his death, which came as a great disappointment, seeing as how G.G. had promised to end it all on stage. Dead though he may be, his legacy lives on. G.G. Allin, we love you!

J. Cruelty:So...uh, what was your favorite childhood pet?

G.G. Allin: Pet?! I didn't have time for any goddamn pets. Animals are there for me to abuse and eat.

J Cruelty: Describe your first kiss…

G.G.: Fuck! I was licking my old lady's asshole by the time I was five years old. I never kissed. I only exist to destroy. I don't have time for kissing. It's just me and you, man, and one of us has got to be destroyed. I'm looking out for G.G. Allin, that's all. [Spits]

J Cruelty: What was your favorite backing band? Personally I find the Murder Junkies to be technically richer than earlier bands such as The Jabbers or The Toilet Rockers...yet they never captured the "rough around the edges intensity" of those earlier, more punk rock bands.

G.G.: Backing bands? What the fuck are you talking about?! I eat 'em up and spit 'em out like the shit they were made out of. I don't care, you can take 'em!

The only thing that matters is ME. Just you wait! When the smoke clears, who will they remember? Not the Fucking Shit Biscuits -they weren't out there in jock straps shitting on stage! People are gonna remember ME, the true fucking soul of underground rock n' roll!

J. Cruelty: We like sports. I have a feeling if you played sports you wouldn't be a "team player" -cuz you don't play by the rules, do you G.G.?

G.G.: Hell no! The only fucking sport I like is when I'm pissing in someone's fucking mouth.

J. Cruelty: What's the biggest thing you've ever shoved up your butt?

G.G.: Your head you goddamn faggot.

J. Cruelty: How much money would it take to get you to tattoo the entire Smurf village onto your body?

G.G.: Who gives a fuck? Look at my tattoos. This one says "Fuck you." The only tattoos I have are ugly. You don't know what it's like to be G.G. Allin. You don't walk in my shoes.

J. Cruelty: What is your drug of choice?

G.G.: Fucking heroin.


I try to be a good houseguest. No, fuck that, I try to be a great houseguest. Sure sometimes, you get a little too comfortable with where you staying and leave your underwear sitting in the kitchen sink. And, maybe sometimes you get caught jacking off on the couch when homeboy is trying to watch a movie with his old lady, but on the “reg” I like to think that I can hold my own. My life is one really really long couch surf. This can be a very satisfying existence for all parties involved if the houseguest can step his game up and be a prince not a pauper.

Be invisible: Being invisible can turn your temporary living situation in a semi- long term one very easily. It seems like some scientology bullshit, but I swear to god it works. Once you get into your new digs scan the room for a place to store your giant ugly duffel bag. No no no, not the open space in the middle of the living room. Go for the spot hidden underneath the kitchen table that is coved in record mailers. You know, the one that has never actually been used for its intended purpose. Shove it to the back of the wall and be sure that as soon as you’re done with whatever the fuck it is that your doing, to put it back where it came from. Out of sight out of mind. There’s nothing more annoying then some dickhead crashing on your couch for a goddamn month and every time you try to walk to the pisser at 4am, homeboys goddamn dirty laundry gets in the way and next thing you know you’re face down in the litter box. Has happened. Shit sucks.

Clean up after everybody: Yes everybody, not just yourself. Most mother fuckers hate doing dishes and cleaning bathrooms ( and frankly, I can’t blame ‘em. People will always be more inclined to let you stay if you consistently do all the mundane bullshit they hate doing. This means clean the toilet, wash the goddamn dishes and for god sakes, take out the fucking trash. Make sure not to only repair that damage that you caused. Go the extra mile and pick up the whole houses shit. It’s not rocket science, its good housekeeping baby. Bam.

Don’t break the rules: Hey, I fucking hate rules. However, sometimes you gotta pay the cost to be the boss. If some goddamn idiot your buddy met on craigslist while looking for a SWF to live with doesn’t want ya to smoke in the house, don’t. If the ladies at the LGBT compound don’t allow dogs (which would never happen) just leave the little shit roller outside. And for goddsakes don’t eat other peoples food, not matter how loaded you are or how much it pisses you off when some asshole writes their name on a Togo box of left over shitty Chinese food (which, they will probably never eat anyway). Also, if you’re dead set on smoking in the house do it in the bathroom with an open window and preferably with a toilet paper roll filled with fabric softener, high school style.

Buy some goddamn food for the goddamn house: Don’t be a dick, buy some shit. Fucking toilet paper, fucking cereal, fucking romin, whatever. Joe Blow will be a lot less inclined to kick you to the curb if he has his stupid thin lips wrapped around a free bottle of Pellegrino. All compliments of whatever food stamp provider of your choice.

Don’t sit on the couch all day watching TV: It’s not your couch and believe it or not, some one who actually pays rent might want to sit and chill after a long day at work. People really get up tight when you do that. I learned the hard way. Not to mention that I un-tivo’ed all his programs, but that was just because he was a dick. Fight fire with fire. Naw mean?

I’m really not trying to come across as a know it all . Frankly all the tutelage I can give is only because I have fucked up literally all of these things. I’ve gotten caught throwing bones in a buddy’s bed that was letting me stay on his couch. I once took a bite out of a block of cheese while wasted and put it back in the fridge. Lord knows I’ve urinated on more then my fair share of couches. I’ve broken windows and most recently spilt tattoo ink all over my friend’s bed and put a pillow over it in hopes to cover my tracks. Little did I know that now the pillow would be covered in ink as well and I was just gonna end up leading a Hansel and Grettle’esk trail back to my pallet on the floor. Man, looking back, a lot of these involve beds. I should really stay the fuck out of other people’s rooms.

A few weeks ago a bunch of buddies and I were in Dallas for a gig. Unfortunately, that’s where I’m from and it being Memorial Day and all figured that I’d give my folks a buzz and try to get some backyard family time in while simultaneously introducing them to the click. My parents place is pretty cramped so we high tailed it to my sister’s place in Dallas proper. Plus, she’s got a pool. If you were to put me a sister in a room, you would not believe we are related. She is the best though and has taken off all the pressure off me to become financially successful. Any way, back to the point. Me and a gang of about 20 people showed up, drank a bunch of beer and swam for hours. However as soon as we left in the morning the place looked like we had never been there. That’s what I’m talking about friends. Keep yo shit clean.

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Wednesday, October 27, 2010


By the time this piece of shit comes out it’ll be summer and that means fests. So many fucking fests. Every asshole and their mother has a fucking fest. I’m sure a lot of people have a lot of fun and I’m sure a lot of great bands play, but let’s face the facts, most of us have really short attention spans, drink too much, and could probably care less who’s playing just so long as there’s a nice beat you can dance to. One year I had to have hit most of the fests on the circuit. For sure at least like 6 of em. And yes, most of them suck. So many fucking dogs and spare changers. Ugly people and not in that awesome way. I don’t like the acoustic guitar in general, what exactly makes you think that you playing a Woody Guthrie song earns you a dollar. You should pay me a dollar for not beating the shit out of you.

Pointless Fest:
Let me start by saying that I love both the men who did this fest. I thoroughly the enjoy the Philadelphia metropolitan area. Well, maybe not west Philly. There are a lot of amazing people there, some great food, and some solid vibes. They got ganstas riding ponies through the streets. An amazing Rocky museum that also has some art pieces. Cheese steaks made of actual meat. That being said, what’s the deal with all the train hoppers and oppressive heat? I bout died and I’m from fucking Texas, man. Damn near lost it when Limp Wrist was playing. Room full of about 500 ugly mother fuckers, naked as the day they were born, beating the shit outta each other. The smell, my friends. The smell like what I would imagine cancer to smell like, but worse. There were these huge industrial fans going ape shit. Which should have been amazing, if it weren’t blowing crusty ball smell all over the place. Lance Hahn once said that no one should bring an acoustic guitar on tour because someone might play it. That’s what I thought when me and Barfield got wind of some kinda DIY secret show in the park after hours. Intrigued as we were, seeing as we have our own renegade show space down here in Austin, we decided to peep the scene. To our disbelief there was nothing, but ass flaps, dreadlocks, and some weirdo playing folks songs in a sea of black denim. Everyone was singing along, loving every fucking minute of it. To date, I’ve never been angrier than I was that evening. It was like Bloomington, Indiana, had thrown up on Philly.

The Fest ( Florida )
No Idea records does this cute little fest every year chock full of every goddamn pop punk band on the planet. No shit, every fucking one of em, and I’m ok with that. Do what you do. I ain’t the fucking cops. Most of them are bands I’ve never heard of and the ones I have I wish I hadn’t. One thing I will say is they feed the bands that play, which is a huge thing for me. I don’t drink, and could give two shits if there’s free booze. You give me a couple slices of pizza and a Dr. Pepper a day, you could kick my mother in the face or make me listen to Raydon. Actually, scratch the whole Raydon thing. Not worth it. You also have to go to Florida. There are lots of good times to be had there, I’m sure, but it doesn’t make up for the amount of flip flops or fanny packs you have to endure from the punks and the tourists. Now, if there was a fest in Disney World, maybe in the adult part where you can gamble, I might change my tune, but its not likely. Once when we were there years ago, Hans pulled a knife on some frat boys in the street and our roadie shit his pants. So yeah. No Dice. Have you ever noticed that every time you read one of those News of the Weird or “ wacky news” or whatever it always goes down in like fucking, Panama City? Like some people shoot their kids with pepper spray and it’s no biggie.

Chicago Fest:
Jesus H. Christ, how could I forget Chicago Fest? Where to begin? We drove all night. Got kicked out of a place in Champaign-Urbana, where we were trying to sleep. No, that’s a lie. They got kicked out. I was at a bar down the street hitting on girl I went to high school with, but regardless, it sucked. Dude asked us to come stay at his place and when everyone went to sleep, changed his mind and kicked us out. On the way to the van some crusty shit bag offered to cook for us if we came to his place to crash. “ Hey, I got a few bell peppers and a tortilla and a chair.” 1 chair, mother fucker? The fuck am I gonna fuck with a bell pepper, 1 tortilla , and a fucking chair? Not happening. Ended up staying at a hotel and between Eric Fly’s snoring and “Family Matters “on full blast, I slept like shit. Once we finally got to the fest I saw Jack Control slap some kid ( which was cool) and later saw him with his makeup running down his face like a jilted prom date ( which was cooler) due to extreme heat. BSA killed it and I met a lot of good friends, but I also had to watch The First Step. Over all Chicago is a great city, but cold as fuck. Fly home and met a pimp named Sleepy on the CTA waiting to go to the airport. Kinda tolerable, but still pretty much weak.

Maryland Death Fest;
A, metal sucks. B, Baltimore sucks. C, Im not going to anything called “Death Fest”. That sounds like the worst thing a person could ever do. Fat metal dudes, horrible bands that ALL sound the fucking same minus a few random hardcore bands thrown in the mix to spice up this musical equivalent of a shit omelet . The mere thought of having to sit in a crowded room full of these assholes makes my skin crawl. Nothing more to be said on the subject.

Chaos in Tejas:
See, I’m not playing favorites. Now this may be the fest I prefer, but hey, I gots to keep it real. I like most the bands, hate some of the bands, and am less than thrilled to have to wait longer for tacos so train hoppers can count their change at Tamale House. Last year Amebix played. I actually heard some scum fuck yell out( dog in tow), “ this show should be 5 dollars” and another “ or free for squatters”. Frankly I agree. That would be fine with me. Separate shows for tax payers. I’m cool with that. All I wanna do is sleep for a week after its done. The whole place is fueled by cocaine and bullet belts. Neither of which I partake in and I admit that maybe if I did, it might be more enjoyable. I guess I have just too much self respect and dignity. Psych. Yes, it’s hot as balls here, but hey, we got AC fucking everywhere. Yes, everywhere.

Hell Fest:
This is a fucking fest, man. Twisted Sister, KISS, Alice Cooper! Get the fuck right out! I will unfortunately not be attending because of undying hatred of the French, but goddamn. KISS? Who the fuck needs BASTARD when you got KISS? Hell, even BASTARD would rather watch KISS than play. The Deftones are playing too and frankly, I respect the hell out of that decision. Not a fan, but fuck it man, do what you want. Think outside the box.

Saw Cypress Hill. Got my nipples pierced. Made out with a dude while on ecstasy. Not bad, however the bottled water is too expensive and Sonic Youth played for too long. At least I think it was Sonic Youth. I can remember being a total fucking loser will do that to ya.

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I was gonna write this about Bruce, but Im not ready for that yet. Instead I’m gonna write about something he’d want me to write about Rock n Roll. He always fucked with me about writing for a punk magazine and not having it all be about fucking punk. So here it goes. Also, I’m gonna write it in the style of Bruce.

HOLY FUCK SHIT!!!!! Chicago hardcore coming at you blind folded with a pillow case full of FUCKING BRICKS!!! CANADIAN RIFLE killing it with their rag tag brand of melodic punk. Some would call it pop punk, but that shit sucks, SO FUCK THAT! Jordan from RESIDUE RECORDS has been putting out some serious shit as of late NO SLOGAN, DAYLIGHT ROBBERY, DEFECT DEFECT, and of course the power house know as SACRED SHOCK!!! JUMPING JESUS ON A POGO STICK!!!! Chicago is back in the game for all you punk rockers out there. I just got a hold of the MANIPULATION single and its quite a ripper. FASHIONABLE IDIOTS put this hot slab of wax out. CHECK IT OUT!!!!

Ok ok, That’s weak and I know it. Weaker then usual. Even for me. No one can even come close to the genius of Roehrs. What I’m gonna write about this month is gay sex. Yes boys and girls. Hot, buff, gay sex. My gracious host in Milwaukee is a “bear” and a close friend for that matter. I’m sure many of you know what a “bear” is, but just bare with me for a sec, will ya? I bear is a “larger” hairy gay man. A bear is a lover, a fighter , and a friend. A bear will fuck you right and hold you tight. What’s not to love. Lugs, my friend, has really given me an inside look into the sub culture within in a sub culture in the past few weeks. Lugs has been shoving this shit down my throat for years( no pun intended), but until recently I never knew how far this shit reached. I learned some things that I cannot put into words, but goddamnit its my duty as a serious journalist to try. Not because they’re gross or sinfull or whatever, but because I’m jealous as a mother fucker. These dudes go on Cruises, “Bear Runs”, and conventions. Are you kidding me. If you put me in a room full of cute girls with shitty hand tattoos( who actually wanted to fuck me) and crates full of poppers( speculation, no idea if bear conventions have actual crates full of poppers) I’d be all over that shit. I might actually attempt to fuck my brains out. It’s got to be the most amazing place on earth. Like an adult Disney land with none of the “ children” shit. A cruise ship? Are you kidding me. You get me and Greg Daly on a ship full of fine girls headed for Jamaica with an open bar and son, we will sink that fucking ship. Or at the very least come back in hand cuffs For sure create an internationl incident . Lugs, told all about it. Just hot buff dudes with no shirts and very few inhibitions. Just lube and good vibes all around. Cool lube too. The kind that comes in honey bears. That is something anybody can get behind, gay or straight.

On my birthday Lugs took me to Chicago to stay with some of his team mates on his all “bear” softball team. 2 dudes built like linebackers answered the door. I wasn’t sure if they were gonna fuck me or fight me, but judging from the cleanliness of their home I gathered pretty quickly that these men had zero interest in a hobo looking mother fucker like me. There was a massive TV, a Nintendo WII, and a kitchen full of hot delicious food. We just kinda sat around and shot the shit. They schooled me on the game of “bear” and got me hip to the lingo. Now, in straight fucking, we have our own little terms, like first base, second base, etc. However in the “bear” world they have onezies, twozies, and threezies, all the way up to fiveszies. From what I gather, Fivezies of something that I cannot physically perform. Something to do with being able to suck a dick thorough a butthole. I’m not sure, there was so much information to absorb, I got a headache. Twozies is slightly confusing however. It’s a blow job and as best as I can remember from my youth, that would count as somewhere around fourth base. Threezies is anal. Seriously? Whats left man! In my sexual lexicon is don’t get much more then anal. I’ve never even gotten to do that! 4 and 5 gotta be some form of ritual sacrifice. Mother fuckers move fast. I respect that shit out of that. Dave and Owen, our hosts in Chicago, were a absolute delight. Solid dudes and it was breath of fresh air seeing two people really in love with each other. The conversation was sooooo raw. They’d ask me questions about fucking, I’d ask them questions about fucking. They seemed to be really intrigued with“ squirters” (female ejactulation). Unfortunalty I didn’t have nearly enough insider info on the subject, but the didn’t seem to be that upset. Note self: Do “squiter” research for Dave and Owen. I think they thought I was crazy, but I didn’t care. I really loved being around them. I lived at an LGBT compound sorta place in Austin, but it just wasn’t information for me. I need more and these fine gentleman had it all. Just a beacon of knowledge just ready to divulge information to a little straight man such as myself. It’s now known that in the scene I would be known as an “otter”. Which is adorable. Dave really wants me to shave and cut my hair and maybe for my birthday next year I’ll do just that. Anything for my dudes. Also, you feel so tough walking down the street with 6 giant guys. Not allowing myself from starting fights with passers by was a challenge, but I didn’t loose my cool in front of the big dawgs. If I ever get married (which I wont) my groomsmen would be Martin’s old man Sam, My Chicago dudes, Scott Moore, and Lugs, just to blow the minds of my future in laws. Not the mention the bachlor party would be off the chain.

Why can’t I be gay? I’d be so good at it. I’m sexually liberated, the taste of seamen doesn’t bother me, and I look great in flannel. I can taste the glory of it , I just cant cross over. Maybe someday I’ll step up my game. I just wanna fly. Fly like a fucking eagle. A big gay eagle.

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theres always another squat

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Sorry Dawg. Honkey Grandma Be Tripping.

hey Logan, hows tour?

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


Just another day living with Tim Brooks. Closet Raver.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Today is a very Special day.

There is a lot to be said about this man. It would be fair to call him a party dog, a wild man, a lover, but i just call him friend. His name is Greg Daly and he will rock you so fucking hard that the shit will come out your ass, drop into the toilet and flush itself. Thats just how he rolls. If you have a girlfriend she will leave for you him. You might be better looking, but Greg Daly has more man inside of him than a man with a man inside of him. (huh?)

Anyway, Happy Birthday my sweet prince.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


Today in the mail i received this. My first thought was " of course, a finger puppet my myself." Then I read a note that said, " This is a finger puppet inspired by L.D. Worrell". My first thought was right.

It also came with an accessory pouch containing sunglasses.

And cigarettes.

Then I got remind that I have a ton of cool things.....zebra socks, Spuds Mackenzie shirt, Tie Dyed CCM shirt. Logan Rules stickers. However this bout of happiness was short lived once it hit me that I live in my friends basement with his 2 kids.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Real Shit from Logan Dean Worrell

I know I know. Where the hell have I been right? Listen mother fuckers. I'm a busy fucking dude. I got lots of shit going on yall dick heads dont even know about. For one, I've been working on my abs. Which are looking great. Truth be told. I havent been doing much of anything. A lot of chillin, that's for sure.

San Francisco has been my home for the past few months. It's ok I guess. The weather is terrible, but the 22 year old girls are bountiful and the burritos are A+. I went from living in a kitchen in the Tenderloin, to Tim Brooks' couch where Tim, his wife and 2 children also live. It's official, I'm on some next level loser shit. Everyday I wake up and think of ending it all, however, quickly realize that I am far to vain for that type of behavior. Basically I sit in my sweatpants till about 3 pm on my day off and listen to Triple Six Mafia records with a 5 yr old. She prefers Taylor Swift, who in my humble opinion is fine as hell.

Alright, Alright, lets get down to the short and skinny of it. You ain't here to read a bunch of bullshit. Most of you brain dead mutants are too stoned to read about my boring life. Yall need PIKTURESSS to keep your asses glued to whatever beanbag chair you're sitting in while enjoying my supreme brilliance.

After Chaos in Tejas me and some of the homies popped into my sister's place to enjoy her pool and my moms sandwiches while at the same time introducing the clique to Terry Dean Worrell. Here is me and Dad.

I happen to have unusually short arms. It's something I've learned to live with, but it is nice to have a good friend rub sunscreen on my back. Thanks friend.

Mom didn't let us play with fireworks when I was little. Having had enough problems as a child, I think she didn't see the need in introducing a new toy in which to hurt myself with. It was the 4th of July with the homies so why not live a little. What momma don't know cant hurt her.

The only thing I'm really good at is being on vacation. I'm really really good at it.

I dont know what this contraption is called, I know it's not a wakeboard. I know its not a jet ski. That is all I know.

My culinary skills are limited to 2 things, Chicken wings and grilled cheese sandwiches. The only way to make both of them properly is to prepare them minus a shirt.

Most people would take the cigarette out of their mouth. Most people would wear a helmet. Most people might even put a shirt on or maybe even shoes. Those people are not named Logan Dean Worrell.

You put on any Dick's Picks and son, I will fucking dance.
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Terry Worrell Explaining why you cant expect to eat everyday.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


"Things I need to get so I can be ready for Chaos in Tejas" by Logan Dean Worrell

Black Boots
Bullet Belt
Bastard Shirt
Anarchy Bag
Hug from Shaun Dean
Punch from Shaun Dean
GISM Back Patch
Beads for Dreadlocks
Other Cool Shit

Thursday, May 13, 2010


Shit it fucking real ya'll

Tuesday, May 4, 2010


Me and sports have a weird history. Terry loved 'em, there for I hated 'em. He always said I was kinda good at baseball in particular, so refusing to play the game he loved so much was my own little 12 yr old way of saying "fuck you Dad". That being said, when I was in Milwaukee, some friends of mine informed that on nice days they would occasionally attend baseball matches. They assured me it was a hoot, so being the brilliant, openminded, anthropologist that I am felt inclined to, in the name of science, see what all the hoopla was all about.

Tailgating is by no means a foreign word to me. Back in Texas I heard of many "rape friendly" gentleman talk about them at length pretty often. However, I had no idea that people actually sit in a fucking parking lot and get loaded and grill mammal flesh before, after, and during the game. Not to mention these white trash/wigger, hybrids playing washers( kinda like horseshoes) , some weird bean bag toss into clown mouth game, and of course "beer pong" was far from what I had expected from these swine.

The gang was saying we had pretty good seats. Frankly I couldn't tell. I have no idea what bad seats are. All i know is that i was surrounded by wasted teenagers and wans't allowed to smoke except for some little bullshit reserved space and that shit wasnt flying with me.

Please pay special attention to the slide on the top left corner of this photograph. This is no ordinary slide and god forbid some "rando" try to go down this Taj Mahal of slides. This slide is reserved for the mascot only. He goes down the slide every time the Brewers hit a home run. What I'm trying to say is, that this guys only task for his job is to go down a fucking slide, sometimes. Other times, who knows what the fuck homeboy is doing. Probably living his mother fucking life.

These are my friends who brought me to the big game.

For the record, I will do my best to have a make every memory a special one. I will also eat the shit out of some waffle fries covred in nacho cheese served in a mini baseball helmet. If karma was real I would weigh 600 lbs. No, that's a lie, I'd be dead.

This was the only guy, I'm sorry, "playa" I could see well. His name was Corey Hart and no its not that Corey Hart, I asked. Also, if your name was Corey Hart and you were in a positon where you could have theme music, why the fuck wouldn't you just roll with the coincidence and have them play "Never Surrender" every time you stepped up to the plate ? You dont deserve to share a name with a semi famous dick head.

This kid kept staring at me. Being one who ain't never been afraid of no fucking kid, stared back. Then it hit me, I was staring at myself.However, the only thing that separates myself from this fat kid, is me losing my virginity while listening to " Red Light Special" in a closet after having smoked weed out of a coke can when I was 14.

This kid will grow up to be the kinda guy who gets a male hooker, kills him, wears his face like a mask, and then eats him.

When i was 18 I went to Dime Bag Darryl's strip club in Dallas. I remember it making me feel uncomfortable. It was kinda like gambling in the way that, if you had a lot of money and a coke habit it might be fun. Regardless, I felt bad for just being in the place and I really just ended up talking to one of the "entertainers" most of the evening and I saw a girl I went to high school with. Anyway, I have never been in a place where when some guy says " SHOW ME YOUR TITS", and then a women says, " YOU WANNA SEE MY TITS" and then shows roughly, 30,000 people her tits. It kinda blew my mind. Especially when I realized she was probably like maybe 17. Oh well, I can check that one off my bucket list.

All and all it was a good time. The company was top notch and like you saw, I got to eat some shit out of a helmet. Sports are still fucking weak and we still pay these mother fuckers way too much goddamn money for doing very little. After the game, in the parking lot I was telling my buddy that I could do everything thing those asshole were could. Dont ever fucking test me son. I can hit the shit out of a baseball. Now Gaelic Football, that's a real game.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Dream I Had Last Night.

Ok, So I was at this party at the house in Milwaukee where I'm staying and in walks Eddie Vedder. He asks me to bum a smoke and I go on to tell him that I love his satellite radio program. We talk about KBD punk for awhile and that is it. Next think you know I'm in some swanky LA restaurant with Spencer Pratt. In the dream he and I are best friends. We talk about the war in Iraq and he makes we laugh a lot. The whole time I keep thinking is the coolest dude.

That is all.

p.s. I did add Spencer Pratt on twitter this morning and I kinda think he is the best dude.

Some highlights from Spencer's twitter:

"The music artist MIA should be kicked out of America today for using the US flag on her Nazi like hit squad in her new music video!"

"I love our USA Government more then anyone because they keep me safe from my evil haters... GOD BLESS - USA!""Wait really - who the fuck would marry Tara Reid?"

"Renee zellweger - with that new hair cut u look like a girl I dated in high school - she was ugly as fuck!"