Pizza Comedy

As everyone on Facebook knows, Corey Haim passed away this morning.  He was 38 years old.  As a child actor of the 80s, he was destined for failure and mockery, from both celebrity peers and big dick swinging internet comedy website writers.  Although I’m a huge fan of his films The Double-O Kid, License to Drive, and Blown Away, I think I’ll always remember him for his on point, no nonsense television interviews:

Despite his substance abuse problems, Haim was always the greater Corey.  Though his counterpart Corey Feldman starred in The ‘Burbs, Haim will always hold the higher ground in my opinion.  Just look at the way he macked it to Nicole Eggert using a stuffed animal reference (see Blown Away link above, it will not disappoint).  You have to admit, “nice duck” is a much better way of getting butt than pulling off this musical number (at the 1:10 mark, Feldman defines the word “chump stain”):

I rest my case, Corey rests in peace.

Elvis Presley was an amazing singer and dancer. He was also a shitty actor and a raving drug addict. During a live concert in the latter part of his career, Elvis decided it was necessary to put a rumor about his drug abuse to rest. So what better way to do so than giving an angry rant to his fans:

There’s nothing better than threatening people in public and getting an applause for it. It’s the only reason I still go to white power meetings. I love how Elvis Presley considers certain professions freakish, specifically hotel baggage clerks. Other freakish jobs, according to The King: waiter at an Indian restaurant, junior high swim coach, manager of any bowling alley, extra on any Tyler Perry film.

GARBAGE DAY!!!

For some reason my father used to treat our local garbage men to vodka and orange juice. I don’t really know why, but they kept ringing our doorbell all the time after that.

It was like feeding stray cats………in Russia. As seen below.

Very interesting look behind the man of the moment, Epic Beard Man.

This isn’t funny, but I couldn’t stop watching it. A well done piece about the coolest, hardest 67 year-old on the motherfuckin’ streets. It’s a bit long, but don’t EBM is worth it…

Pimpin’ Tom and Ugly Bob. A match made in heaven.

I mean, how epic is Epic Beard Man? The guy’s a legend. Mofo is an expert at playing spoons and washerboard. I didn’t even know you could play the washerboard. That’s how good he is.

Had a friend in town visiting this weekend and shit got weird. There was a grandma playing beer pong and a hot chick with a robot arm who would only drink wine by the bottle.

Yeah, that just happened. A friend of mine tried to touch her boob and it transformed into a robot car and ran him over. Michael Bay’s got nothing on me.

This is awesome…

Here’s what I would have responded to that:

Dear Concerned and Uninformed Reader,

I am concerned for your godson. The fact that you would even consider involving authorities for something as stupid as this leads me to believe that you are not only a total herb, but also a narc. Having a herby narc always looming around will be detrimental to your godson’s growth, especially when he’s trying to score some hot poon and you’re constantly cockbocking him (note: “cockblock” is not a drug. It’s you).

I imagine you are the type that puts their ear to people’s doors to hear if “they’re talking about you” and the woman that calls the police when a party plays music past 8pm. Well, I’d just like to say, on behalf of everyone, please go live on the moon. In zero gravity, your overbearing bullshit and buzzkill attitude won’t seem as harsh.

But to get back to your question, dear reader, you have no need to be concerned. Your godson just wants to see some shaved vaginas in tight clothes. Oh, and I’m sure he’s doing drugs as well.

FACED!!

nice toad by Dear Ab’Tay

Today is Fat Tuesday — the last and grandest party day of Mardi Gras. I was down there last week (flog is being written) and let’s just say it was insane. But after the Super Bowl victory, this week will be especially out of control, off the chain, and fucking bananas.

For those who don’t really understand what Mardi Gras is, it’s is supposedly a “religious holiday” celebrating the days going up to Lent — a Catholic holiday in which you are supposed to give up something important to you for 40 days (I believe). In those days leading up to Lent, you are supposed to indulge on that important thing before you give it up.

So in New Orleans, everyone really likes booze, tits, beads, and crawfish. These are the things they choose to give up for Lent. And they binge on these things in massive quantities, for nearly a month straight, until Lent hits — after which point they give up nothing and continue to live their lives as normal. In fact, sometimes they consume more of these things during Lent just to spite the system.

But for us laymen, Mardi Gras means partying, drinking, and a month-long celebration. There are parades on a daily basis (sometimes multi-daily basis), in which people line the streets with coolers of alcohol (no open container laws, btw) and cheer and catch beads. The parades are amazing, filled with floats created by different clans all competing to be the best in the west.

More on this coming soon, but in the meantime, Happy Mardi Gras! Party like a rockstar, with a weird fetish for plastic beads. Especially you, Dukesycat. Make them women go meow.

If you’ve got booze, prepare to dispense it. If you’ve got beads, prepare to see my chest hair. And if you’ve got boobs, prepare to dispense them as well. I’m about to embark on a trip to the Big Easy, Bourbon Street, N’Olns for Mardi Gras. And I got to be honest, I’m kinda excited.

My buddy Dukesycat lives down in the Big Easy — I’ve been down there a couple times (which you can read about here and here), but never for Mardi Gras, which I’m told is the craziest and most insane time of year. Some compare it to the Holy Grail of party times, others say it’s more like a delicious grilled cheese sandwich with crawfish stuffed inside. That second one I don’t really get. But the party will be huge, of this much I am certain.

Oh yeah, and the Saints are in the Super Bowl. No big deal.

Unfortunately, I’m a total idiot and booked my flight a couple months ago, with no knowledge of such fanicful things as the Super Bowl. So my flight is returning on Sunday afternoon, at 5:30 N’Olins time — aka literally the same time of kick off for Super Bowl. So yes, I will be in New Orleans for Super Bowl weekend, New Orleans is in the Super Bowl, and I will be flying, leaving the city, during the game. Kinda mucked that one up.

Regardless, should be one for memory bank. I plan on perhaps even peeing on Dukesycat’s couch, or perhaps a well placed upper decker? I’m not sure, my friend and I were discussing these seemingly endless possibilities (he’s also making the trip). Dukes, I know you’re reading this. Put down some rubber sheets.

J slash K. Or am I?

You’ll just have to wait and see. As for me, I’m off to drink sweet tea, eat some spicy gumbo, and tell enough stupid jokes to make my friends sick of me (this usually takes about 3 hours. Lets see if I can do it in 2).

I’ll take some pictures and represent Pizza Comedy down on Bourbon Street. Go Saints!