3hree Things: The Best of ... From 2011
originally posted: June 7, 2011
Fueled by the success of November 2010's Riley vs. the McDonald's McRib piece, I decided to force feed myself another fast food disasterpiece and chronicle its unfortunate trip through my gastrointestinal tract. A losing battle, from the get-go.
If I'm going to birth a food baby (in this case, quadruplets), I'd prefer to do so in the comfort of my home (as opposed to, say, my pants). Eggs can turn even the most rectally sound folks into involuntary cropdusters, so as a "whatever's the opposite of rectally sound" kind of guy, I fully expected to spend most of the rest of my day defiling my couch cushions and fogging the halls of my house (much to my lady's dismay). And that's exactly what happened. All. Day. Long. I'll spare you the gory details of just how "loaded" my toilet ended up being after the Loaded Burrito had made its way though me, but I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that I heard something happen in my bathroom that sounded like a bulldog barking into a bowl of oatmeal.
Best reader comment (sic):
we get it you don't eat fast food
And we get that you don't understand proper punctuation or capitalization.
originally posted: july 26, 2011
I go to as many Angels games as I possibly can, and have done so for ages. I've known for years that the right field pavilion isn't necessarily the best place to watch a game from, but when the lady and I lucked into some free tickets we had to make sure that it was as bad as we'd remembered it. It was. And then some.
there's difference between taking your kids to a game to teach them to appreciate the sport and actually watch the game, and carelessly allowing your brood of screaming, sugar-drunk apes climb all over section 244 for nine innings. There was a particular family of six or seven seated just behind us that let their kids run buck wild; hurling food, climbing seat backs, kicking the people in front of them in the back of the head and neck, and belting out screams loud and high-pitched enough to make your teeth ache.
Best reader comment:
4 out of the last 5 updates have been about baseball. They've been funny, but c'mon.
The internet is an virtually endless well of readable content, and four pieces tucked away in little crack (this blog/feature) in that endless well of readable content that were semi-baseball related (and more sociological than anything else) merited a "c'mon". Well played, internet police. Well played.
originally posted: September 13, 2011
I have a tendency to keep my ego in firmly check by doing things that idiots would do, so that no matter which rare peak my ever-waffling self-esteem is riding at the time, I know that I'm just one dumbfuck move away from passively hating myself for another few months. This piece took a look at a few of those recent moments. (Rest assured, there have been a few more since September. Yay, me! :/ )
And that's when I sharted in my desk chair. As an adult. As a man. Not a baby. Not a geriatric. Not a sphincterally-challenged invalid. As A FULLY FUNCTIONAL ADULT MAN.
Best reader comment:
The idea of my favorite drummer shitting himself is both haunting and indescribably funny.
That's why I'm here, I s'pose...to haunt and amuse.
Here's to more of that in 2012.