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.


Terry Worrell Explaining why you cant expect to eat everyday.

CIT

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

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

IPOD vs. IPAD

Shit it fucking real ya'll

FAFS SOCIAL EXPERIMENT: SPORTING EVENT

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.

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!"

I dont drink, but sometimes I do.

I am pretty chill dude. I dont do a whole lot, but what I do, I do pretty well. I spend most days sitting in random parks across the world listening to Funkadelic and chain smoking. However, a good buddy of ours died, so I, Logan Dean Worrell, decided to get fucking wasted for a special one day only kinda jam. Bruce would have wanted it that way.



The day started about noon. Had a few Tecates during the service and then headed over to the Parkside for the wake.



By now, I had a pretty good buzz going. Feeling the juices flowing. I remember this feeling. It confused me. I was having fun being really charming and not feeling nauseas at all. This was not to last.



After the service, Dougie was suposed to go home and sleep it off seeing as that he was gonna have to play a show in a few hours. I told him to not even play that fucking game and to get in the fucking car. This is him wasted about an hour after that eating raw chicken about 3 hours before he was schedule to play.



The Rumblers ( the car club Bruce belonged to) threw this whole shindig together. There was fried chicken, fried asparagus, and fried hot dogs. Shit was popping off and that was a good thing, because honestly I had been doing much eating today. My mission was not to eat a lot of delicious food, it was to get shit faced fucking drunk and honor Bruce.



Allan McNaughton couldn't be bothered taking a photo with good ole' Logan, he was too busy looking up how to get from the Parkside to the Royal Mile using nothing but the MUNI. Jerk.



Cissie is not a judge. She is however, more the willing to make a drunken Logan look stupid as fuck. Cissie is an expert in drunken Logan. She has seen me fall off the wagon many time and doesn't bat an eye when she is needed to call me an idiot.



Grant couldn't be bothered to pay for his own drinks. Fuck that noise. Dude is punk and is gonna live his life by his own rules. You gotta respect that. Oh, he also had another full flask in the pocket for when this one ran out.



We are friends. We share everything. Hot dogs, Drinks, Women. Whatever. He was hungry. Who the fuck am I to deny a man something he wants. I'm not the fucking cops.



This is where shit starts to get a little bit hazy. I remember people telling me how cool and handsome I am. I remeber being a really good dancer.



Ooooook, This is who was telling me how cool and handsome I am. Btw. Try some Mentos. Get into it.



Sweatpants Paul also doesnt judge.



I have nothing to say about this.



These are the Young Offenders. Yes, the Young Offenders. They are not young. Not even close. Most are pushing damn near 50 i suppose. And as far as offending, One is a writer for Associated Press, One is a father of 2 and a caring devoted husband. They
sure as fuck dont offend, but the sure as fuck need to keep their day jobs.



So yeah, I liked it.



Dougie did eventually sneak out and take a nap, However it didnt seem to do much of anything.



Look at this mother fucker. He refuses to take a nice photo with his friends. Jesus, sorry to interupt your reading of the new MOUTH SEWN SHUT record in Razorcake. Fuck you too. Braveheart sucked. Haggis sucks. Bay City Rollers suck.



" I just took a whole bunch of MDMA, I think I'm gonna die. "



This is where it all ends. Me walking by Golden Gate park throwing up at 10am. It was fun, but I think I'm good not drinking again for awhile.

The following is a list of things I want to do , but never will

Ride in a space ship.
Get on a work out regiment.
Stop smoking.
Read to an old person.
Drink less soda.
Wash my hair.
Renew my passport.
Finish paying off my library fines.
Vote in an election.
Write a movie called "Summer Time Dudes".
Go to Africa and help sick people.
Spend more time with my folks.
Make a dolphin my pet.
Hunt a human being.
Wake up before 10 am without an alarm.
Swim across something, maybe a channel of some sort.
Model flesh lights.
Fit into my old JNCOS.
Fight a retired circus bear.
Play a round of golf.

Kids Cant Draw For Shit.

Believe or not , I get a lot of emails letting me know how much I suck. At first it kinda bummed me out, but now I’m really, really, into it.
Emails such as…

“Dear Logan,
Your blog sucks, you cant write and are a faggot.”

And how could I forget this gem….

“Yo,
why don’t you learn how to spell before you subject the world to your ignorant writing. Buy a dictionary or get an education.”

Any who, I decided that since the people criticizing me seem to be having a lot of fun doing being pricks, so why not criticize something myself. Scott Moore suggested little kid’s drawing and I thought that sounded great. Here ya go!



I don’t even wanna begin to think about what this shit is supposed to be. At first glance I’d have to say that its probably this kids future crashing down into a sea of utter despair. Either that or maybe the little brat watches a ton of LOST and this is the Oceanic 6 eating salt water. The random brown squiggles are throwing a curve ball into the mix. I like to think that the little booger eater just rubbed his own shit on the canvas, giving the art teacher a big ole’ “fuck you”.



First off, There’s no way all those people are gonna fit into that tiny house unless their Korean or something. Second, that flower isn’t even growing in the grass at all. The grass is very well represented in this piece, yet the artist decided to completely disregard it and put a goddamn flower on the fucking sidewalk.Third, The sun seems to close to the earth. This makes me nervous for two reasons. One, What if this kid is some kind of “Golden Child” fortune teller and those people are just cold chillin playing in the front yard when our planet is about to run straight into the fucking sun. Two, This kid has no grasp on how close we are to the sun proving my theory that Christianity in our schools isn’t going too well.



My mind is either blown or I'm tripping balls. All of his teachers probably think he’s a genius. I just think Jr.’s baked out of his skull trying to look busy in art class. I bet this is the little fuck David Crosby had with Mellissa Etheridge.



Yeah, great. Some stupid fucking flowers. Do you know what kind of world we are living in little girl? Shit is fucking real right now and all you can think to do is draw some stupid fucking flowers. Why do you get a job and start being the solution and not the problem? Not to mention, purple and pink together? Just because they are next to each other in the box doesn’t mean you have to color with them at the same time. This looks like something Lisa Frank’s “slow” cousin would draw.



Who doesn’t love Christmas? Who doesn’t love waking up on Christmas day and just attack the fuck outta some beautifully wrapped presents? Who doesn’t love Egg Nog and The Dolly Parton Christmas record? Well asshole, I used to until I saw this stupid fucking drawing. I definitely don’t want those trees in my living room on Christmas morning and I don’t think Santa’s reindeer would ever shit all over the entire world like Little Man Tate has portrayed them. Oh btw, Santa had 8 reindeer, 9 counting Rudolph. Fucking Idiot.



Now this is art my friends. Real, true blue, honest, art. Some serious Rembrandt shit. It’s intoxicating to look at. I see myself in the big, gay, dolphin, or manatee or whatever. I would pay upwards of 3 dollars for this and it would be worth every penny.



P.S. Please wish my good friend Scott Moore a speedy recovery from his "gerbil ass removal surgery".

MRR COLUMN

Austin is like a ghost town tonight. All the streets are empty. There are no people walking their dogs, no ones waiting for the bus, nothing. It’s like fucking Christmas or the grocery store on a sunday night at 3am. All the businesses closed early, from whataburger to cherrywood coffeehouse. Only thing open is the Liquor store. It’s the Super Bowl and if you ain’t from the south then you might not understand what the big hoopla is all about. I mean hey, you might like the shit, but you I don’t think you really “understand” it. And thats cool. I can dig it.

Football in Texas is a huge fucking deal. Kids grow up imitating their favorite Dallas Cowboys players in their respective front yards with other neighborhood kids. Their dads dream of being able to watch their sons play in the big game against the rival school. Shit is just like Friday Night Lights or Varsity Blues or what-have you. Young girls get all dolled up and head down to the game just to support their team. Everyone loves the shit. Nights in highschool were filled with jocks and squares inside watching the game and us scumbags in the parking lot sniffing glue. It was very much apart of our day to day lives, to hear about football. As we get older no matter where we are in life, we can always rely on the comforting fact that sometime in February people get together and BBQ some shit or fry some shit and watch grown rich people beat the shit outta each other for mere sport. Just to entertain us. What a fucking world we live in.

So here I sit all alone in the house usually filled with loud assholes and fucked up dogs. Having had no idea the game was on, but got initially stoked because this meant I could jack off on the couch for a change (which is one of my favorite sunday activities). For about a second I thought about maybe going to a super bowl party just to meet up with a few people, ya know just for shits and then I remember that Football is the dumbest fucking thing on the planet and I don’t even wanna tell you what clever little quip my dads says about football. I don't know about you assholes, but I spent the better half of my formative years getting the shit beat out of me by guys that play FOOOOBALL. Now, why would I wanna support these pieces of shit jock mother fuckers? Why would I ever want to think about all wedgies, swirlys, or constant name calling ever again? I thought my name was “fag” until i was 17.

There was this kid I went to high school with. His name is Justin Blalock. He’s built like a brick shit house and from what I remember always has been. He’s had a pretty amazing career it seems. I don t really keep up with it, but every once in a while I’ll see his name in the paper. Started playing varsity ball when we were freshman. He did the whole college ball thang and now plays in the NFL for who, I have no idea. I do know that he’s made a literal shit ton of fucking money. He’s also the asshole who gave me this huge scar under my chin leaving me with this roach beard on my face for life. I remember it like it was yesterday, We were in the hall and one of his limp dick date rape buddies dared him to see if he could choke me unconscious. When i finally stopped kicking and screaming he just dropped me like a rock, straight on my face. Blood was everywhere and when I finally came too, all I saw was his size 19 Jordan’s walking about in the abyss of the highway, high fiveing Skip and Kiel ( pronounced Kyle) all along the way. Fuck that guy. I wonder what the statue of limitations of suing somebody for assualt. Surely, I have just cause. It’s because of him I hate football so much, making me a social outcast in my own home. Texas that is.

Did people forget that Football is for jocks? Has Football turned into the new Fixed gear bicycle? Just because Tragedy likes the Seahawks don’t make it alright. Whats next? Mixed martial arts between sets at Chaos in Tejas? Bruce Rhoers cage match with Layla? So many good jams about sports. Void did it. Gorilla BIscuits did it and those fuckers were basically jocks. First Christians now Jocks. Jesus Christ. Payton Manning?

Whats the appeal? I just don’t get it. I’m asking seriously. Someone please write me and let me know. I’m not even fucking with you. Tell me why you like football. Tell me why you like to see to rich men beat the shit outta each other. If you just wanna see people fight, come down to Austin, I’ll take you to the homeless shelter downtown and you can watch hobos beat the shit outta each other for as long as you want. Its better then pay per view and you can drink Thunderbird while you watch. Are people into this shit to live vicaoursley through these yuppies? Check out the big game then go to sleep fantasizing about scoring the winning point and getting to fuck the cheerleader? Just because they have a sick tribal sleeve doesn’t make them cool. People I work with who hate football were telling they watch the “big” game just for the commercials. That’s even worse! The fucking commercials?!?! It’s like the devil is shitting on my face right now. I can’t take this shit. I’m not gonna lie, If i was a billionaire I would totally spend a million fucking dollar shoot a commercial of Timmy taking a shit so all the douchbags watching FOX had to see that. That’s something I could get behind.

Come to think of it. Who the fuck are I talking shit on how people spend their free time? Just last night I found myself at some weird kinda “clown rave” with a bunch of free loving gypsy hippie type dick heads complete with girls wearing pasties hanging from holla hoops suspended from the ceiling. I should probably kills myself or at the very least turn on the tv for the post game show.

Terry Worrell Interview Part II

This is an interview I did with Terry last time I was in Dallas.

Terry Worrell Interview Part II from Logan Worrell on Vimeo.

Warning: Here at "FUCKALLFUCKINGSHIT" we do not agree with everything Terry has to say about things, but we feel that it is our duty, no, our responsibility to the followers to keep shit real as fuck no matter how " questionable" some of the interview'es answers might be.

Keep you chin up.

-F.A.F.S

Milwaukee, WI

When I woke up today I was feeling kinda low. No big deal. Just stressed wondering if this “walkabout” thing was the right thing for me to do at this time in my life. It started like so many other days. Eyes open to the darkness of yet another windowless closet that I’m living in. House is empty except for my thoughts. A whole laundry list of things I needed to do (including laundry). I had to get out of the house. The last few days I’ve just spent feeling sorry for myself. Worked a little bit, went to a bar ( which I hate fucking doing, also it was metal night and I hate fucking metal. The things a man will do trying to talk to a cute girl are endless.), had Herds practice , and finally came home to masturbate in my closet. That was yesterday. This is today and that means, I Logan Dean Worrell am gonna fuck this town in the ass.




This town makes no sense to me. I don’t know where anything is, and there’s white people everywhere. The bus system intimidates me and all the streets start a stop too much for my liking. I’m just doing your, run of the mill “fucking off” when I see it. Just another café, but no. It’s not just another café. I see ashtrays through the window. After further inspection, I see a Dr. Pepper sign and a whole deli tray full of rice crispy treats. Holy shit. I have finally found my people. You can tell me my dog just got hit by a car and as long as I can smoke and drink soda I doubt It’d even phase me. I love smoking. Not because it feels good (which it does) and not because it makes you look cool (which it also does), but because it symphonizes everything that I love about America. There’s something about the death wish that gets me off. It’s expensive, disgusting, and deadly. I think that’s why I like it. I’ve met many a solid dude while smoking cigarettes. Oh, how many conversations we struck up while freezing your ass off in the rain just to get a few puffs. Oh how every transparent conversation was started off with a cleaver little quim about the weather. “ fucking sucks outside huh?” “It’s the worst. What ever happened to smokers rights?” Yeah! What about smokers rights? I pay taxes. Well I have at least. I pay taxes on cigarettes. Doesn’t that count for something? I’m totally fine with smoking sections. What ever happened to those? For years our people were leaving in harmony with the “ radicals” and then one day POOF, no more smoking for anybody, ever. I don’t drink , I don’t do drugs, so please, just let me smoke. “ It smells bad. Well you know what, so do does a lotta shit. Shit for one , smells bad. Incense smells bad. Hobos smell bad. Why can’t I just have this one little thing,




Second hand smoke? I was raised with second hand smoke. My father smoked like a fucking fright train and I loved it. Made me the man I am today. OTSS, only the strong survive.When I got caught smoking when I was a little kid, Terry, like any good father would, sat me down and made a young Logan smoke an entire pack of cigarettes. We have never been closer. Cleary he had underestimated my desire to smoke and we just sat there and shot the shit for a couple hours. Then he went to the store to get more smokes. That’s how you raise kids ladies and gentleman. Treat em like adults. So what I can’t walk up a hill? Big deal, that even looking at a treadmill make my chest hurt? I can blow a smoke ring in the shape of a 1940’s era battleship. I don’t have to taste cauliflower. Who’s jealous now? All I’ve ever wanted to do is be able to smoke on an airplane. That’s all. I could die a happy man. I could fly to the fucking moon just so long as I could burn one down every five minutes.



Hopefully the constant tar I’ve shoved down my lungs will eliminate the possibility of ever bearing children. It's a pretty expensive form of birth control, but a delicious one none the less. Plus most cigarette taxes go towards schools, so I figure that all those snot nosed, ugly, stupid fucking kids out there should all thank me for the hard work that I do. Which I do for them might I add. I don’t think it would be out of the question to have a little play in my honor at the local elementary school as a cute little way of saying thanks. Maybe the “ 3 Piggy Opera “ or something along those lines. That’s a great play and it keeps you on the edge of you seat the whole time. SPOILER ALERT: the wolf blows all the houses down but one and that house my friend was made out of bricks. Bricks and tar. Tar from the lungs of a lowly hobo.