Beard Watch - Day 1

For starters, I plan on writing other blogs, this is a little side project I want to see how long I can go before I break down. I plan on shaving the neck and stray hairs.







Yes. I plan to do a day by day progression of my beard growth. Could be an awful idea, could be awesome. One of the circumstances where I may shave is my job. Money flow is rather important and until the barter system makes a come back I must keep one.

Enjoy watching my face become that of Matisyahu.

Nerd Rage

I'm what I consider a nerd. A boozing, sex crazed, jack ass of a nerd, but still, nerd.

While getting my morning news I found this amongst the crack of the Internet:









Ok, an unattractive woman made into a meme....why?

I continue to read on to finally find the reason why she is the focus of hate for. Bitch bashed on us nerds!

Here, just go read this, and you will understand.

I don't get. She's obviously single because she goes to bars, gets drunk, and STILL come home alone. Then, she further claims her singular lifestyle by creating an OKCupid account while still drunk from her buttery nipple shot. (I preferred Plenty of Fish, but hey - fuck off)

She then forgets to research the guy she goes on a date with and what do ya know? Dude is a world champion Magic The Gathering player whom also makes bank doing so.

She has a bad date :(

I understand that someone could overlook someone like this guy, but she writes for Gizmodo, a tech website. A website created for nerds, by nerds. That's a slap to their face. That's like me brewing beers but only drinking Smirnoff.

Baby Wipes

To my friends that are having children, this will be an item that will become part of their next years; baby wipes.





When they walk into the nearest big box franchise store and purchase them, baby in tow, everyone will know why. The calming texture is far easier on the unclean portions of their child. It will be a soothing experience for father, mother and child alike.

For me, it's different. When I bought a box earlier, the cashier, with her iron water washed dirty blonde, faded pink hair, lit up with delight.

"Boy or girl?" she excitedly asked.
"Boy." I shamelessly replied.
"How old is he?" the inevitable question came.
"26." ending the conversation with a puzzled look.

Babies shouldn't be the only ones that can experience this pleasure.


Sweet baby Jesus that's good

Yes. It's that good.

Time is short or is it?

I must say I am one that never fears death. In all actuality, I assume as long as I am not set ablaze or sawed in half, it'll be like falling asleep. What really gets to me is when you think about it, the average life span of a human being isn't enough. Ten years ago I was a senior in high school. Twenty years ago I was 7. In 20 years I will be 47. I mean holy fuck! I am almost at my life span's mid-way point, and that's not taking into account if I get t-boned by some dumb ass on their cellphone or die of cancer. Think about it, our solar system is Eons old and we are not even a blip in the big picture.

Anyone who knows me knows I am obsessed with anything that sports an engine. Certain engine tones make the hair on my arms stand, and the first time I hit 175mph in a car I was sporting a chub. Hell, the first time I stepped foot inside Indianapolis Motor Speedway I teared up, and I am not ashamed of it. Automobiles changed my life. It made me appreciate things that are hand crafted, opened my eyes up to the arts, and stop to appreciate every single ounce of beauty that exists on our beloved planet.

It also opened me up to one of my favorite hobbies and that is photography. Now I am no means even remotely good, but I enjoy it. There is something about capturing something (even if it is something photographed 1,000 times. I capture people, objects, nature, the way I see it in my eyes. With the help of a friend I came upon a rather expensive piece of photo editing software, and now I get to create my own art, which is fucking awesome! Think about it, whatever we do that creates something is an expression of ourselves. It forever captures how we felt and viewed the world at that moment in time. The pictures we take, the cars we modify, the bikes we ride, they are extensions of ourselves. Sure I don't really understand the Honda Civics with HUGE wings and under glows, but I guarantee it tells you something about the person driving it. I don't understand canvases with color splashed about, but I guarantee you it tells you something about how that person felt when they created it.

Art is everywhere, from the food we make to the buildings we build to the clothes we design. As people we have pushed our minds so far and the only thing I regret is not being about to see when people learn to use 100% of their minds.

Most of all I am thankful to have grown up in the age where the Internet took off, digital imagery exists, and cars and bikes for the most part still have a pair. And thanks to these things, though my time on life is rather short when you look at the big picture, somewhere, somehow, someone will stumble upon one of my pieces of "art", and because of that I will live forever in my own regard.

So go forth and enjoy your weekend. Take a breath of fresh air, try something new, paint something, draw something, take a photo and share it with the world who cares if it sucks? Here I am sharing my thoughts and my pictures and I don't give a damn if you read it or not. Keep in mind though, behind every locked door is a world of color waiting to be explored. Go live it because time is short, or is it? Leave your mark.

I wanna chuck this one out there... If you agree feel free to sound off...

GOD BLESS SEASONAL BEERS, AND GOD BLESS CRAFT BREWERIES! GOD BLESS US EVERYONE!!

When Charles Dickens wrote Tiny Tim's heartfelt words "God bless us, everyone." it is my sincere belief that he was speaking of beer. He had to be, theres no drinking age in Jolly Ole, what the fuck else could he be talking about? His family you say!? Nay... Mr. Dickens was speaking of the ancient and perfectly crafted treat known as beer.

Now, to my point... Seasonal beers (or as i like to call them seasonal triumphs). I am a huge proponent of the craft brewer, is it because I root for the underdog? Perhaps. But mostly its because I would rather gargle Ogre piss than pretend to enjoy an "american lager" brewed by the big 4. It also could be the wide variety (mostly this is the reason) offered when browsing the craft brew isle at your local adult beverage peddler.

But, I must say seasonal's are my favorite. It must have to do with the felt anticipation each time the seasons change. Seasonal beers offer something to look forward to each year. I have chosen my favorite season based on my favorite seasonal beers, and that season is fall folks. I have had some delightful adult beverages in my day, MANY in fact but a lot of my favorites are only available when the trees go dead.

Dont get me wrong I LOVE beer year 'round too. Beer is happiness ask Chadles.

P.S. I concocted, scribbled, edited and posted this thing while en(TOXICATED)joying some seasonal beers...

Beer demand problem, solved!

Every night, at every bar in the world there seems to be a universal problem; waiting.

All of us can agree that the worse thing is having to wait on our beer. That can stem from multiple reasons; lazy bartender, packed bar, college specials, understaffing, and the rare douche bags that order incredibly hard drinks just because they're not the one waiting for an easy drink, like beer.

I've actually found myself waiting for up to 30 minutes to get a beer because of a packed house. Sure, my drink was on the house but I was still pissed.

From the title you're probably still asking "So, how does this problem go away?". Simple, with this!

EA games is trying real hard to lose business

It's shit like this EA is why people hate you.

Earthquakes prove 99.9% of Americans would not survive a Zombie Apocalypse

If you are a reader on the East Coast, good chances were you felt a nice little shake around 1:53 PM yesterday afternoon. I for one, was lucky enough to experience my first so-called "Earthquake". Now let's be honest here, Earthquakes more so than any natural disaster proves we are the bastard children of GOD and Mother Nature is our evil mother ready to keep our asses in check whenever she deems necessary. The sheer force behind an earthquake, the unpredictability, its exciting. But then again, I am a little bit nutty. Now much of the East Coasters who felt a shake or two (even those at the epicenter), experienced what was considered a "mild" quake. Evidently there is a Geologist out there, without boring you with geology terms basically said the East Coast is older, cooler, and quakes nowhere near as deep, so fret not friends, we should be in the clear.

What I can't quite get out of my head those is the photos and videos posted all over the web regarding first-hand experiences of those who experienced the quake, particularly those in Washington D.C. and New York City. These people were absolutely frantic. I am talking bat shit crazy. Listen, I know they are all particularly sensitive since the events of 9/11, and yes that was a tragic event and we as Americans were changed forever, but you know what, Hitler persecuted over 1 million Jews and you don't see them hiding in the shadows doing bookie deals in alleys. People were in the streets, frantic, crying, sobbing, and please feel free to add any adjective you feel necessary. Seriously people what the fuck are you on? I would just like to take the time to say thank you Washington D.C. you have now proven to China our balls are the size of peas and an invasion can be had by a mass release of rats in the streets, or dozens of cheap vibrating beds placed in basements throughout the city?

I mean seriously when did America go from the dashing young man above to such frenzied pansies found at the following link: http://media.katu.com/images/110823_dc_quake_main.jpg

Now I don't know about you but this bitch is one of the first to go in a Zombie Apocalypse. As a matter of fact every major city in the United States will fall, within days if not hours. I for one am proud of my small Eastern Kentucky heritage because even though I did everything I could to get out, when the Zombie Apocalypse does happen, I am running back to Mother Mountain's fresh vegetation and natural protection of terrain. Whilst everyone turns to walkers, us mountain folk will be fortifying our home front, drinking moonshine, and managing to live without power and television because hey, many of us grew up without it. The extra long winters from nuclear fall out will be a welcome change.

That's right folks I am giving you a first-hand look at exactly where you need to go in the event of the Zombie War, and that's Floyd FUCKING County, more precisely Prestonsburg, KY.......the star city of Eastern KY. Let me provide a link from wikipedia.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prestonsburg,_Kentucky

As you can see from any map the majority of Prestonsburg is surrounded by a river. Three blown bridges and you have closed all but two access points to town. The remaining two can be easily fortified and guarded with people along with a mountain to one side and river to the next. Directly behind the town is both a lake and a golf course (easily used for crops, fuck golf. Oh yeah, thanks Mountain Top Mining). But let's not forget the copious amounts of drugs running rampant to take the edge of the Zombie War, we make our own booze, and we have animals like deer and elk and shit. So if you are out there hunters, please head this direction.

Now a few things to keep in mind, I am all for inviting people to my home fortress but realize you will serve a purpose or find yourself bait on the other side of the river.

1) Bitches are welcome, but only for sexual purposes, fuck pro-creation. I will have a hard enough time feeding myself.

2) Hunters are a plus, the more accurate with a bow the better, oh yeah bring your fisherman buddies I am a lazy fuck.

3) 3-5 town drunks, hey we need comedy.

4) People with carpentry skills. We may not have a/c but nothing says I should get rained on.

5) People that can tend to crops for food and um, medicinal purposes

6) At least two doctors, preferably pro-choice

7) The man who invented October fest.(obviously)

8) No elderly, they smell already and we will eventually run out of soap.

As you can see those are the major requirements, I am sure there is more but I've been up since 3:30 this morning and I can't focus on this blog much longer. Keep and mine once we exceed an unestablished number, I will turn you away, unless your lady friend has a nice rack, then I will allow you both to pass, then send you back to the wolves.

So again, thank you New York, Boston, D.C. , Baltimore, and that random NFL rookie who ran off screen and made the most boring video currently on the Internet (Check Yahoo I am now too lazy to link things), for showing the rest of the world not only are we financial morons, but fucking pussies.

But most importantly, thank you for proving to our readers My Zombie Apocalypse rescue plan is sheer genius and please, for the love of Christ, let's all aspire to be the shirtless bad asses of our ancestors.

Douchebag Cat

A couple of months ago I decided to go the route of responsibility and buy a pet. Trying to show face and look like a good guy, I adopted.

I had had my eyes on a particular specimen. A 2 year old cat. His owner had passed away and he was older. Winner to me. For some reason I hate having young animals. I'd rather have a broken' in model.



The adopted feline; Parker. Or his full name Peter Parker Prometheus Popodopolous Mullins

Parker was awesome. Took him a couple of days to adjust but then it was simple. He knew where to use the bathroom. The red dot that would appear was meant for chasing. Furniture is not a clawing area. Kneading akin is wrong. Amazing animal...until.

My boss, and long time friend as well as fraternity brother decided he was going to take his vacation. But he needed someone to watch his dog.

Fear of the stereotype of dogs and cats, I wanted to do a test run tonight. The dog, Connor, was chill. Curious of his new environment, did a little recon of the small studio apartment I reside in. Parker, you ask?





Pictured above was Parker's reaction to another animal. My god I hate his acceptance of a dog.

After Flipper (yea, we call my boss Flipper) with Connor, does Parker calm down? NO! He kept sulking in the corner. After multiple treats and me petting on him and trying baby talk I picked him up like I usually do. His reaction?

Growls. As if I was Connor. Then, a flogging of paws and claws. After reading many articles on the Interwebs I have used this plan of action to avoid those shit brains at the ASPCA.




What we've had here is, failure, to communicate.

Are We the Old Guys?

Recently I attended the Blink 182 show in Cincinnati, while I was there I noticed a few things. Most notably the fact that its possible that I was the oldest person in attendance. Now I understand that Blink 182 has been around for some time now. And I am very aware that my freinds and I are not the only generation of fans out there. But, what the fuck happened!? There were kids walking into this show holding their mother's hands! These moms had no idea what was happening.

I've gotta give some kudos to these kids for convincing mom that she was chaperoning a trip to a Raffy concert. Now I understand that Blink 182 isn't the scariest music in the world (far from it). But I doubt that mom was expecting to hear a song whose only lyrics are "shit piss fuck cunt cock sucker motherfucker tits fart turd and twat". Let me re-phrase that, I KNOW mom wasn't expecting that song, because I was standing in the back and I saw mommy's face... She was standing near the nice man wearing an entire Ed Hardy outfit.... Seriously, an ENTIRE Ed Hardy outfit even a belt. Who the fuck does that. I think he was someones dad. BUT, I digress...

Next on the agenda... Spraying your hair because you're at a punk(ish) show. Don't do it. Its not halloween. Perhaps the fun in attending this type of show is not the show itself but the shock/embarrassment on your parents faces when they drop you off.

Also, I'd like to tell most of the kids in attendance that your mom is going to be super pissed when she finds out you ripped holes in your jeans on purpose just for the concert. Those are brand new jeans she bought you for school, and now you have to wear them like that for the rest of the year because you're not getting new ones dammit.

To the young ladies in the crowd, please stop playing tag, you're going to school tomorrow and you have recess right after lunch. I don't get recess, I have to go to work tomorrow, this is a Sunday and its the last bit of enjoyment I get to squeeze out of my weekend. So, please park yourself on mommy's blanket she has laid out in the back... you're allowed to jump around and act like an asshole when the show starts.

Anyway, my point is that these days the tweens have inherited the punk scene, as they have and will inherit everything else... Fuck it, at least the beer lines are short...