YOU CAN FIND ME ON BEAK STREET

So today was my big day. Surgery. It was just like on TV. I had to put on those funny slippers and pajama pants and this smock type shirt. There was the confident Surgeon, the foreign accented Anasthesia guy, clip boards, X-rays, those circular overhread lights and lots of things beeping. I had an iv and everything. One second I was making small talk on the operating table and the next thing I knew it was two and half hours later and i was in the recovery room. I felt like i got a swift boot to the nose and my head was pounding. I guess I kinda expected that. The only real weird thing was waking up all groggy with my smock -like- shirt thing missing and this Large asian nurse with her hand on my chest looking over me and saying, "HERRO. HOW MY BOYFRIEND DOING? GOOOOOOOOD?" That kinda freaked me out. But besides that I'm chilling at the crib bleeding profusely from my beak and basking in the amazing haze of Tylenol-3's.......later Duuuudes.

BUT MY FRIENDS ARE ALREADY INSIDE.....

After re-reading Paully P's previous celebrity post, and its attached Lindsay Lohan flick, the complete opposite sentiment was reached by several TBR members-some celebrities are worth stalking. That being said, the other day Paully P and I were discussing the start of our career as stalkers by going to one of these celebrity filled- bottle service lounge/clubs that are completely worthless but for some odd reason their lack of worth only remains in your memory for a solid 25 days- which means that once a month you retardedly think it may be a good idea to check out again. And the cycle continues. Anyway our conversation went like this:
me: So you think your friend still has pull?

Paul: Lets find out....worst that happens is this dude at the door gives us the serious face.

me: yeah. i hate that face. Nothing really shakes my confidence more than the serious face..i don't even know why.

Paul: Yeah...homeboy just sees right through your soul and just knows that you live with your Moms
me: Yeah...as soon as he hits you with that look you just want to blurt out all of your insecurities...I'm broke, No job, haven't been laid in forever ....

Paul: You don't have to blurt it out...HE KNOWS...the only thing counteracts their powers of perception is two girls for every one guy...which never happens.

me: Yeah..they can sheild you from his x-ray vision. Unless their bodies are composed of too much fat, cause he can see through them girls and back into your soul real quick.

Paul: Yeah, doormen can definitely see through fat girls...and see that you just beat off three times today, and your mom thinks your sheets are dirty.

me: They will also be the first person to notice that you're shirt is inside out and you have ketchup on your sleeve

Paul: we have no chance
me: Zero.

STEVIE CAN'T EVEN SEE MY GAME

Some Bros are gettin' back on the horse with the ladies so to speak. At times, its easy to dwell on the not-so-remote possibility that you've seen your last voluntarily nude woman. But things are lookin’ up per this recent interlude.

Bro A: Debatably handsome; notoriously unkept; wearing the same sneakers and jeans everyday for the past 4 months; likes computers, guitars and sandwiches
Bro B: Up and coming fashionista, on a first name basis with every attractive woman south of 14th street.

The scene: Positively Orchard St.; Hot (as in un-airconditioned) art opening stocked exclusively with intriguing, graceful women with perfect skin and dudes that would make Paully P's Gumby fade spontaneously combust into an inferno-ball of rage.

Enter stage left: Girl Y

Bro B: Yo, Girl Y whats up. Good to see you.
Girl Y: Bro B, you're the best
Bro B: Word
Bro A: . . . (unable to discern the topic of conversation or even if he's being spoken to due, at least in part, to the existence of the first Hot Snakes record; unadeptly hoping to muster a silent mysterious vibe). . . . . . . . .
Bro B:(clearly tryin to help a Bro out) Oh, hey this is my man, A (no canadian).
Bro A: Hello
Girl Y: You're Sweaty
Bro A: Thanks

football is not THAT sweet

Ok, I love football. Enough to pitch a tent?... nah. I mean this title really is unbelievable. What editor would actually let this ride. Obviously It's a play on words but it is kinda vulgar. Especially since It's about dudes getting a hard-on about football. Just look closely at the pic, the two dudes have their asses pointing at the camera. In no way, shape, or form do I want to hear about pitching a tent with dudes in front of me. Bottom line is this... I love football but NO FUCKING HOMO!!

JUST AN ASIAN IN A WHEELCHAIR TO ME

Honestly, when did the world start revolving around celebrities?? Has it always been this ridiculous? Has the world always cared where Jessica Simpson buys her lattes? This celebrity culture shit is straight unbelievable (rock stars aside, cause musicians actually do cool shit besides being pretty). The most absurd shit to me is the gawker.com Galker Stalker maps. This might be old news, but ridiculous nonetheless. Because I stand firmly behind the old supply-demand curve, especially the supply axis, I got no beef with Gawker; the people who actually read that map, the demand,…yeah, I got a problem with you. I don’t know about you, but I don’t give a shit where Lindsay Lohan is unless she’s staring directly at my exposed penis. Why else would a heterosexual male care what that anorexic moron is doing?? Why women care where she is even more retarded. I honestly don’t get the whole celebrity culture thing…I wish I knew so I could join in on the fun. Then I could be like “Yo, Bro, I just saw Justin Timberlake eating a steak dinner at the Tribeca Grand and this dude straight ashed his cigarette in his dinner by accident”…oh wait, Danny Fresh actually did that. Anyway, no matter what, stalking isn’t cool to me, except that time in college my friend took three hits of acid, stole my roommates bike, lost it in a sand dune on a golf course and then spent the rest of the day stalking, and writing down everything the one Asian quadriplegic on our campus did. Dude literally stalked her for a day. His conclusions: she LOVES Japanese food for lunch, sitting by the Mississippi river levees, and she's an avid reader of Choose Your Own Adventure books. Other than that kind of “celebrity” stalking, the whole thing is straight RETARDED.

AND THEN SHE ORDERED VANILLA

After lying in the park wondering what our next course of action would be:

BRO: So what now?
GIRL: Hmmm....Lets go grab some Tasti D Lite and head back to your place and watch some porn...
BRO: .... [to self: i know this is love]

I LIKE BIG BOOTS AND I CANNOT LIE

I Understand. Ok, maybe i don't really understand, but i can deal. I can deal with the piercings, the bullet belts, the safety pins, the chains, the black, the makeup, the hair and most every other ridiculous accessory. I mean - do you. But there is still one thing that i just don't get. I can't figure it out. What the fuck is up with those super clog/platform boot jump-offs. As Joey D so derisively screamed out of his car-window at a Goth on Avenue A, "Where are you going? THE FUCKING MOON????" Maybe they are full of massage beads. Maybe every goth is actually 4 feet tall. Maybe they all have deformed lizard feet like Paully p. No matter what the reason, I kinda wish they were made of solid concrete so I could lure them on the Marilyn Manson circle line tour of manhattan and sink them all. Honestly have any of you ever seen pauls feet? They are crazy. Like Hobbit crazy. Now mine are nothing to smile at, in fact they're more like fingers really- I think I can pick up a tennis ball with these bad boys. So now that I think about it, Paully P and I in a pair of flip flops may be way more horror/gore inspiring than any goth in the above pictured concrete doof boots....hmmmm. you decide.

CRACK MAY BE WACK

But that joint will inspire you to bust a move!

There is a movie called Crackheads Gone Wild. Wow. But don't worry Fox News is on the case.

So I get back to New York and I find myself walking down the street with this bohemian dude (no hemian).

BRMS FIELD STUDY

Exhaustive research over the past few weeks has uncovered my top five most favorite activities when severely intoxicated:
1. Waiting until I just cant get any drunker, then smoking a spliff on the street, then purpetrating the world's thinnest facade of composure
2. Paying for each drink with a fresh $20 bill and stuffing the change in a new pocket each time.
3. Attempting to jump through my foot as though Im trying out to be a dancer for Kid n Play. Failing.
4. Bringing group conversations to an awkward halt by (a)making irreverent comments with indiscernable sarcasm (b) losing motor control of my tongue and jaw (c) losing my train of thought/trailing off into an uncomfortable silence (d) a combination of the above
5. Falling a sleep clutching an uneaten grilled cheese with tomato and bacon

BACON AND PORN [AKA THE BIRDS AND THE BEES]

One of the more disturbing things about my unfortunate living situation has been accidentally stumbling upon my rommate/dads internet porn collection. It's bad enough that if i'm watching any sporting event that has female halftime-timeout entertainment, he pushes his glasses down to get a better look and says things like, "mmm..look at that. Gorgeous." Recently as i've been helping him set up his new computer i have stumbled upon some images that make me cringe. I'm talking closeups people. But at the same time i kinda feel like the old guy doesn't really know all the porn possibilities out there. Listen i'm not a porn expert, but from what i've seen dude could really get his arthritic hands on some better material. So i'm kinda torn between giving the old fella some advice and throwing up in the sink because my life is ridiculous. But just when i get down on the roomate he knows how to pick my spirits right back up. Once a week without fail he cooks an entire packet of bacon and keeps it in the fridge until the re-up at the end of the week. BLT'S for days make me forget all about his gross low quality porn collection. Ahh fuck it. Come on dad lets eat a sandwhich and watch this DVD.

*2006 BRO REPORT ANTHEM*

ELDERLY: THE CONVALESCENT HOME IS NEUTRAL TERRITORY*

Yo I got jumped on Sunday. So bad in fact that I have bruises on both knees (New Hampshire), and my right elbow, and a twisted ankles laced with bruises. Did neo-nazis jump you, you ask? Nope. Young hoodlums? Not at all. A pack of wild dogs? Nah. I actually paid for this experience, and let me tell you it was worth every penny of those 15 smakroos. On Sunday me and my friend Ben went to relive our youth by going to see Lifetime at the Bowery Ballroom. Lifetime was a 90s melodic hardcore band, they had recently reunited. I go there early so I walked around little Italy, where everyone was wilding over Italy victory. Some dude carrying the red, white and green flag came up to me and was like "good game." I think he thought I was French; I've never been so insulted in my life. So I head butted him and the headed to the show.
But first me and Ben got our pre-drink on a little before the show: downed a couple Dewar's at that terrible bar sweet and vicious just to get in that hardcore mood. I get there and some burly fuck with a spider web tat on his elbow gives me an ice grill, ah the memories. Everyone wearing their obscure hardcore t-shirts to make sure everyone else knew they were a new jack. So we watch a couple of songs by that terrible band The Bronx (they're from LA), whose name offended me before I heard them and their music offend me more so. How you gonna name your band the Bronx, what does that mean, whatever it means it obviously some snide fuckin comment about the Bronx, and don't play generic hardcore while dressed as hipsters, it just isn’t crisp. But whatever we drank a couple brewskys and moved up front. While we were waiting we debated what the first song was gonna be, I said "yeah, there no way kids are gonna dance, look at how old these motherfuckers are" (i.e. my age). So the band gets on stage to loud applause, and from the first note the place explodes and I watch my first go tumbling to the side, as I watch this I catch the sick elbow to the ribs. After a few minutes of debating whether it was really sad for a 26-year-old man to slam dance, I looked down and my arms and legs were swinging. Soon after I fell down, and like good hardcore show goers some dudes picked me up. Problem was they picked me up so good that I feel back down face first immediately, causing me to bruise my palm and knees. I think this is the first palm bruise I have ever had. So the nite progressed: fingers were pointed, ankles were twisted, lyrics were sung, sweat was produced (NH). So to sum up I was 16 for the nite, the next day I was 26 and in a weird amount of pain. But it made me realize I need to be in a circle pit at once a weekend for the rest of my life. So soon enough I am going to quit my job, get sleeved out, re-learn bass (let's be honest I never really knew it), and start this hardcore band ... I still need a name I'm thinking ...Middle-Aged Insurgency. So when you're 45 and your 17 year old son goes to the local basement hardcore show in your middle class suburb, you can tell him (or her, but probably him) that you know the bass player of the band he's going to see, and it will be an opportunity to connect to your alienated teenage son. No need to thank me for helping to strengthen your bond with your kid. Robbie loves the kids.

*ED's note: There is a lifetime song called THE GYM IS NEUTRAL TERRITORY on thier record Hello Bastards

LAUNDRY WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME

Holy christ do I hate doing laundry. I am buried in Laundry right now. Maybe its the fact that I own so many t-shirts, underwear and socks that i can actually forgoe washing my clothes for a solid month, which leads to a VW Bug sized pile of Laundry in the corner of my room. So when I finally run out of clean things- I am washing clothes for an entire day. I know what you're thinking....why don't you just drop it off? Why? Because I would need a fork lift and/or crane to get it down and out of the apartment, kinda like those giant obese people who die in their beds. The worst part is that I will be so sick and tired of washing and drying that by the time I finish all of it, I will probably dump all the clean, dry and unfolded clothes in a pile on my couch where it will sit for a couple days, slowly being mixed with newly dirty clothes and being sat on by yours truly until I can no longer distinguish what is clean and what is dirty. Help.

JUST HOBOS WITH TRUST FUNDS

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that a once-a-month loft party in “East Williamsburg” was not in fact HELL ON EARTH. Yes, if you want to find out where uber-hipsters go when their souls leave their self-righteous emaciated little bodies, hit this party off. What you will find is a carnival like funhouse with three floors of sweaty, overly thrift-store-dressed hobos all desperately searching for cigarettes that nobody has. That’s right, in hell, everyone smokes but nobody has cigarettes except for that creepy dude making shadow puppets in front of the projector showing obscure performance art, and that creep only smokes Merit Ultra Light 100’s so it’s like your sipping Oxygen out of a long broken straw, and the BBQ girl is disgustingly fat and sweaty, and the hot dogs cost 2 bills, but you only have a buck fifty, and when a girl asks you what time it is you say 5:00 AM and she says in the most detached way ever, “I’ve been here for 7 hours,” and you feel too bad to tell her that she has ETERNITY more hours to go, and you realize that there is not one attractive person in the party except for the French girl who’s so effin crazy you forget the fact that her ass cheeks are hanging out of her silly little 80’s style mini-skirt. And you understand that it's not the unattractiveness that bothers you, but the combo of grossly sweaty, rude, and unattractive that brings to mind only one word……unfortunate. And then you wake up with a sick headache, stumble to the corner store where you hear churchbells coming from Riverside Church, but the bells sound oddly like that song I Will Survive. And you don’t know what’s worse, that Christ is hurting so bad he needs to resort to that shitty female mantra, or the fact that you have that song in your head.

ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO.....NEVERMIND

goodness...

Please look at what my man P Mac did to this dude.

YOU BETTER NOT LAY A FINGER.....

On My butterfinger.

BAI LING IS DEAD TO ME [THE CONCLUSION]

In case you need a re-cap:
Bai Ling
Bai Ling Part One
Bai Ling Part Two
Bai Ling Mixtape Volume 1


Here it is. The end of a truly epic saga. One for the ages. So the anonymous Bro went to the bar to meet his one and only Bai Ling. A myspace asian fem-bot who was constructed out of pure Bro-genius. Bringing a mix tape with him, the anonymous victim...i mean Bro- was hoping that the sounds would help him get laid. He was a bit surprised to see a couple fellow bro's outside the exact same bar he was to meet Bai Ling. "Dudes, when we go inside i'm gonna pretend that i don't know you, cause I don't want her to think I came here with a bunch of guys." No problem.

Nervous. Pre-Entry. Mixtape in hand.
Confused. No girl in sight. 8 Bro's drinking brews instead. Breaking it to the Bro that Bai Ling does not exist.
No Way!! Pure, unfiltered surprise/ repressed rage.

Damn. Bro Proceeding to drink away the pain of losing all possibilities of sex with a complete creepy stranger who doesn't speak english, may be a serial killer and was obviously 100% fictional.
The pain. I think I loved her man.

And for all you out there who think this was a cruel, cruel joke. It was only done to teach a lesson. There are serious creeps on myspace. Watch your back. And so ends the tragedy of Bai Ling. Her name will live forever in the world of Bros.

... AND THIS ONE’S FOR ALL YOU LOVERS OUT THERE. .

Music For A Sweet Girl

IS YOUR PENIS DEPRESSED?

Bro#1: I would definitely sleep with her.
Bro#2: Dude? Are you serious..she is definitely NOT attractive.
Bro#1: C'mon, the girls I've been dating lately are all completely subpar, believe me she's not that bad in comparison.
Bro#2: Oh man, that's sad.

ANDIAMO AZZURRI!!

Fútbol

I'm gonna be totally honest with ya. I was hating on the World Cup hard when that joint first popped off. I was like yo these foreigners can't even score points, dudes just run around and around like straight up fools. Basically it was a similar phenomenon that happened to me when I went to Europe, I become ridiculously patriotic. When I was over there it was in my most liberal phase, to the point where if I was president I'd of probably gave back this whole continent back to Native Americans. I was, in Fox News-speak, definitely "Blame America First". But once I got over to Europe, and skinny nerd ass Scandinavians, and dudes from the Canadian army were hating on American foreign policy, I found myself saying things like "if it weren't for U.S. foreign policy you'd be speaking German or Russian and living in a hovel." Just getting unnessacrily angry when ever anyone said some shit about America. And let's face it, when some dude wearing paramilitary gear shoved and M16 in my face, and started yelling gibberish at me (he was asking for my passport) on the streets of Buddapest, definitley made me appreciate this country.
However, the world cup was kinda the same shit. I was like "I ain't gonna let this foreigners tell me what sports to like, eff that, We (as Americans) run things. That was until Saturday when DannyFresh was like yo watch this game I promise you’ll like that shit. So I was like o.k., I'll come thru and watch Brazil crush France, which from my understanding was a foregone conclusion. So I meet up at the bar, and apparently when it comes to Soccer everyone who lives in Brooklyn is Brazilian. So that made me immediately pro France, plus your man paullyp put me on to the fact that Brazil was the sickest frontrunner team ever. I can't front watching that shit was kinda awesome. That old Frenchman that's about to retire was regulating, plus Henry is kinda ill, but my ace is definitely Ribery, cause he looks like the toxic avenger! Dude definitley resembles sloth from the Goonies, except sloth isn't the fastest human being on the planet and sloth probably bags more girls. By the end I manged to watch that shit without my knee-jerk patriotism overcoming me. So basically I'm gonna get this tat and watch that final game.

MURDERING YOUR JOINT

For scientific reasons Dave, Paul and I made a pact to not murder our joints for an entire week. 4 days down and so far so good for me. After day one Paully P "tapped out." It should be noted that Evrocker and Bobby Taliban vehemently refused any part of this pact.

U. S. OF FUCKIN' A

I know some people spent their extra long July 4th weekend in the hamptons, or fire island or some fancy shit. Not me. Nope. I basically camped out in brooklyn for the last 4 days. My phone died after day one. Brazil choked by day two. My underwear crashed out by day three. No worries, i hit up the local pharmacy for some tighty whiteys, a pair of socks and was ready to roll. Next I double day beached it. Beach day one: Jones Beach dodging an actual hyperdermic needle in the sand. Beach day two: Borrowing a pair of the Zark's 1992 vintage Nautica swimming trunks in order to take a dip in Brighton Beach and consume a plate of Siberian meat dumplings on the boardwalk. By day four At least 3 cases of beer were personally consumed and at least 4 different rooftops frequented, including: one that the landlord hired a biker gang [wearing Deutschland t-shirts] to work security - German bikers apparently don't give a shit if your Bro's really want to see the fireworks..if they say the roof is closed - the fucker is closed, And another roof where paully p and I watched a fat drunk asian girl with zero rhythm or flexibility doing the tootsie roll and a bunch of hasidic jews huffing blunts as bottle rockets whizzed by. I finally made it back to the crib last night only to find that all my plants were extremely close to death, my dad was drunk and the A/C was busted. God Bless America.

COMING SOON FROM TBR STUDIOS

VOTE FOR ME!!!

Who cares if you dont understand what it says, vote for me anyway damn it!!