So, I’m sure the absence of initials has plagued many loyal BpBc fans as of late. Questions like “Where is Mr. P.?” or “Why can’t I be his baby’s momma?” have been posed, and I am here to answer. While you desk jockeys have been slaving away at work (like I am otherwise), I have been traveling the world abroad and experiencing things men dream about and things you wouldn’t even imagine (Disclaimer: I only traveled to Munich, Germany for 3 nights). Either way, it was during the last weekend of this little celebration they have over there called Oktoberfest. Ever heard of it? But thankfully, I have come back more knowledgeable, more refined, and a little drunk. So therefore, I think I am now qualified to give you some knowledge squeezed from my brain juice on how to properly enjoy Oktoberfest. Enjoy!
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I know, the usual onslaught of initials that regularly guarantee goodness isn’t in the title, but some things are better left to stand on their own. Like alcohol. And the superpowers that it makes people think they have, but not really. So enjoy.
Invisibility
The best drunk is one that denies anything and everything.
“I’m not drunk, I’m fine.”
“No, I didn’t spill that drink.”
“No, YOU got that hooker pregnant.”
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Hey everyone, I know it’s been a while since I last wrote, but that’s only because I love you too much. I realize that if I write an article every day, there’s a chance some people might expect to read the gloriousness of my articles on a regular basis and be heartbroken when I skip a day. So to make sure some of you internet readers can actually accomplish work on most of your work days, I must space out my articles deliberately and secretly to keep you on your toes. Or, it’s my ability to procrastinate and my apathy to anything that doesn’t involve drinking. It’s one of the two, that’s for sure.
Anyway, if you are like some of the people I know you are currently asking yourselves, “What television shows am I going to watch this fall?” Well search no further, I have your answers. I am listing the television shows that I never miss and you shouldn’t either.
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- I find that the Braves’ moves before the trade deadline only increases my hatred of Chipper Jones. If the “Tomahawk Chop” comes back into play this season, I will try to get a lawsuit against the team. You mean to tell me that Illinois can’t have a chief run around the basketball court but encouraging “scalping” is fine? Fuck that, and fuck Chipper.
- I think “natural” peanut butter should come with a warning label. While the peanut butter is better for you, (it is just made from peanuts and salt instead of all the other random ingredients) it also has a layer of oil at the top of it to mix in. This is dangerous. I wanted to try it out, so I bought a jar yesterday to use on my lunch. And I had to walk around the entire afternoon yesterday with a large light brown stain on my shirt. Try explaining that to your coworkers. Not cool.
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Phillies 2007 Playoff Game 1
Dear Mr. Lee,
It has been many years, more than I can even recall, that I discovered you. Not in the same sense as Kevin Smith might claim, but more so in the sense that I loved you in “Mallrats.” At the beginning of our “relationship”, it was simply wonderful. We were truly in bliss. You made me laugh in “Chasing Amy” with your little clap session in the lesbian bar, you made me ponder my religion in “Dogma,” you made me appreciate great music in “Almost Famous.” It was a happy time in which we didn’t have a care in the world because kicking ass was your business, and business was good.
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Awww fuckin doug
So, once again, I am feeling generous to all males out in the cyberworld who are searching for ways to attract members of the opposite sex. I figured I’m qualified to give legitimate advice in this area because…well, it’s worked for me a couple of times, so it’s got to be good. Right? Anyway, for your enjoyment:
