Wednesday, December 14, 2011

A Public List of My Preferred Baby Names

Since I'm rapidly withering on the vine and prospects for me having a kid within at least the next 12 - 18 months look unlikely, I've decided to post my fantasy baby names publicly, since all of my friends always steal them anyway. So go ahead guys. Shatter my dreams. Steal my grandma's name. Go ahead. I'm cool with it. Because I don't think I really want to go nine months without bourbon anyway. I mean, just beer and wine? For nine months? Forget that.

Girls:
Alice
Ruby
Nora(h)
Vivian
Charlotte (maybe)

Boys:
Emmet
(that's it for boys, actually)

There. Take them, they're yours. Who needs kids anyway? All I need is my solid gold car and rocket house and I'll be fine.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The all new fragrance for men. Children.

'Sup.  Just look at me.  See these pecs?  They're actually made of plastic.  Those arm hairs?  Those are actually individual eyelashes.  You know, the fake ones, sutured into the dermis of my forearm.  Sometimes I slick them over with pomade.  Anyway, I know I sort of look like an android but that's the look I'm going for.  Have you ever played the video game "Need For Speed?"  Well, everyone looks really smooth.  Like, their skin is all soft and melty.  It's like if one of those cardboard cylinders of Crisco were left out in the sun and melted, and then you poured the melted Crisco over your skin to make it shiny, and then it hardened and dried.  That's how I like my skin to look.  Not just 'cause it reminds me of video games and how awesome those smooth-skinned racer dudes are--all aerodynamic and hairless and shit--but it reminds me of my mom's cooking too.  Mom makes the best cookies with that stuff.  I think she used butter flavored Crisco, though, but whatever, I don't even care.  What was I saying?  Oh, yeah, I look only sort of like a man.  Like an undercooked prototype of one.  I'm a Millennial, so I'm not gonna chase after you and kiss your ass so you like me.  You have to earn MY respect.  You have to fight for ME.  I'm awesome and if you don't see that it's your problem.  It should be automatic that you like me.  It should just be automatic.  Just like the transmission in my Ducati motorcycle back there.  I don't have a motorcycle license yet because those clowns at the DMV say I have to take some test or whatever and never sent me one like I'm entitled to.  Just like this girlfriend thing.  She's pretty, I guess.  Yeah, she's hot and shit, I guess.  But she has to fight for me, dude, 'cause I have things to do.  I'm doin' my thang.  Like riding my motorcycle and eating my mom's cookies and playing video games.  Seriously, I'm really busy.  This is my world: I am in command.  I'm in control.  Dammit, I'm a man-child, you gotta fight for ME.  How about THAT?  Yeah, smell that, bitch.  ::WHUT::

Anyway, gotta roll.  I got a man-date with my bros, DB (he's a rockstar) and my man-child mentor Jared Leto.  VROOOM-VRROOOOM!!!