Would You Kiss Your Motha With That Filthy Mouth?

Here is a link to a survey done by the Sex Health Guru regarding whether or not you would kiss someone after they performed oral sex with you. Kind of suprisingly 91% of people surveyed said they would. I stand somewhere in the middle regarding this topic. I mean I really dont care to taste my own semen (I mean unless it involved me being able to fellate myself) so I wouldnt open mouth kiss a girl after I finished unless she had swallowed. Then fuck it, If a girl is kind enough to go down on me I will do whatever the fuck she wants. I do draw a line though and say I will only do this with a girl friend. I mean there have been a few girls that I have hooked up with (i.e. force fed the four inch) that I wouldnt kiss period, none the less after they got done shallow throating. I guess I am hoping to get some of our readers thoughts on where they stand on this issue? Check out the link to the site has some pretty cool stuff on it.

Link

Blizzard Man is Back

Much like the video last week about Giraffes, SNL has remade another skit and it does not come close to the original. Though I will say it is still much better than the Giraffe video.

Opening Weekend of Deer Hunting is Upon Us

I know if you are not from Wisconsin then this does not matter to you. Hell I am born and raised in a small town in Wisconsin and to tell you the truth I could give two shits about hunting, but it is a tradition I will again be taking part of this year. See my father is a lover of all things out doors. He can spend hours in his garden, or out in the woods looking for mushrooms, or on a lake slaying fish. I could not be more different then my father. I hate mother nature, and the only thing I really like to do outside that cant be done inside is bathe the whale (really big stomach) in the sun. The last two years I did not go hunting or fishing and did not really miss it that much. However I did miss one thing, and that is spending quality time with my father when he is truly happy. I see my father every day and we get along great, but we see each other at work, and that is not quality bonding. The other times I see my father is when we are working on my house and he is providing the help I could never afford or do on myself which is truly wonderful. I am the luckiest kid in the world, with the best father in the worl. Again however this is work and it just cannot compare to cracking a beer with your dad after a day on the boat, telling stories of the fight the one that got away put up. Or the smell of blood on your hands as you just gutted your first deer, and see the big smile on your fathers face, as you gag from that god awful smell. I never realized how special those moments were until I quit going the last two years. My dad has asked me a few times if I wanted to go again, and I said probably not, but I suprised him and myself by buying a tag for this weekend. Now I could care less if I shoot the biggest buck in the state of Wisconsin, that really does not matter to me at all. However getting back in the woods with my dad, sucking down a half case of high lifes, telling stories of the bullets whizzing by my head, or how I woke up and to gun fire but it was too late as the deer had already ran past me, will be well worth the $25 it cost me to buy the license. So I will finish this up by saying take a look at some of the things you used to do as a family and ask yourself why you don't do them anymore. I gurantee that even though they did not seem that fulfilling at the time, every second you spend with those closest to you will be worth it and then some when you no longer are able to do those things or when those people are no longer around to share those memories with.

Three fat lawyers, heretofore, henceforth and wherefore.

So, as it turns out, I've spent the past 15 years or so getting fat. It was really my junior year of high school where I lost my washboard abs. I decided to quit basketball and track to focus on lifting for my senior year of football. I didn't work nearly as hard as I imagined. I got stronger, but I also got softer in the middle. I went from about 170 to closer to 190.

During college, I went from 190 to 210. That was just plain chubby. Since then, I've had a few runs back under 200, but for the most part I've been adding a couple of pounds every year for the past 10 years or so. I went past chubby and portly at a full sprint and the officials don't need a time out for a measurement to know that I've passed the fat marker. I'm fat. Yeah, I said it. I'm not going to complain about my metabolism. Claim some thyroid problem. Bitch about my sedentary job. I earned this disgustingness the hard way. Too many double and triple servings of fatty, calorie loaded foods. Too many weekends with an extra 5,000 calories in booze. Too much time sitting on my ass and not enough time moving. Pretty simple really.

Unfortunately, I'm not alone in my morbid obesity. A couple of fellow fat-assed lawyers from my class and I have decided to enter into a bit of a weight loss contest. We weigh in on Monday, and the final weigh-out is March 6. The requirement is to lose 10% of my body weight during that time, or pay cash to those other fat cats. If we all meet the goal, everybody keeps their money. Fuck it, if I lose at least one of my chins, I'm all for it.

So, I have to weigh in on Monday and figure out the damage. I have a pretty good guess where I am, but I'm not 100% sure. (For you gamblers, I'd set the over-under at about 238.) Because humiliation is motivating, I will share short updates about my progress or lack thereof. If you can't manage to be supportive and encouraging, at least hurl insults at me to humiliate me into continuing.

I'll be back sometime on Monday with the most embarrassing number imaginable.

For all you skinny fuckers out there, go fuck yourself.

Check This Out x2

#1 Check This Out

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,377421,00.html

It's an article about a new Beer Pong game for the Wii. I guess people are all up in arms about it because it only got a "T" rating and it encourages drinking. Well, duh. And the article itself is pretty funny and entertaining.

Things I noted while reading this article (possible spoiler, but whatever, read the article first then):

- The game is entitled, "Frat Party Games: Beer Pong." You won't ever find me at a frat party playing beer pong. Or at a frat party. Maybe at a phat party. Boom!!

- Check out the YouTube video link. Do you see any "T" for Teens? I didn't, but I did see a lot of "T" for Tools and one "O" for Old Outta Place Guy.

- The Vice President for JV Games, the developer of "Beer Pong," is named Jag Jaeger. Ironically awesome.

- I can win $50,000 playing beer pong. Partner anyone?

- The ratings board president said, "three 'specially trained, adult raters' with no ties to the industry reviewed the game and recommended the "T" rating." Video game raters not tied to the video game industry?! Not the first oxymoronic comment I've heard a president make.

- I learned I could make it through a FOX News article without scratching out my eyes.

#2 Check This Out

http://www.madtownmunchies.com/

Strictly for all you Madisonian's comes the greatest delivery service yet. Go to the website, order online, and a bike delivery person will show up with your goodies in 30 minutes or less! Order everything from frozen pizzas and ice cream to condiments and cigs. And they're open late; til 4 am on the weekends. You can even rent DVDs. And get this...when you're done watching the DVD you just throw it away! Apparently, the DVDs are encrypted with this special film so after you open the package they can be played for only two days. After that time the film gets all skibbidy-jibbidied and won't play anymore. So, you just throw it away (actually, they suggest you recycle). Crazy Ish!

Anyways, if you're in the downtown area, hit 'em up. I know from experience they're 2 legit 2 quit.

5 thousand!

Humpday: Brooklyn Decker

I guess Andy Roddick is tagging this...fuck him. Thank you big Irv for turning me onto Brooklyn, she is definately a Big Tasty favorite.

Vomit weekend - old man style.

In contrast to Big Tasty's hard-earned pathetic aura on the weekend, I had my own nice little Saturday. I got up early, did a few chores around the house, played with the lad and then met my friend Brian at the park and ride at 10:30 and headed off to Madison. We met Mike and Mary Ann at Dotty Dumpling's for lunch and a few beers. Went to the Regent St. Retreat to have a quick beer with my homey Kreecher. Then, on to Camp Randall to watch the Badgers defeat the Goophers for the Axe in shocking fashion. A couple of cocktails and a nice meal at Paisan's and we're back on the road home.

I get home about 10:30, and my wife and my parents are watching a movie. I lay down to watch the end of it, and suddenly I'm shivering and feeling pretty shittay. I mumble something about not feeling good and stumble up to bed. Fast forward to 1 o'clock in the morning. I can feel a frantic knocking at my back door so I run to the toilet. No sooner do I sit down and ass-piss a gallon of bad coffee than I realize I am about to blow chunks. (No, Chunks is not the name of a dog.) So I do an all-star first baseman stretch to scoop up the wastebasket and then I unload a 9" Paisan's pizza, well chewed and poorly digested, into the bucket.

Now, I'm thoroughly dazed and dizzy. I decide there is no way I'm cleaning this wastebasket. It was half full of tissues and toilet paper roll tubes before I doused it in vomitus italiana. It's not like it could just be dumped in the toilet and washed. No, this would require some real effort. Fuck it, we'll get a new one. I wrap the wastebasket in several plastic grocery bags and then a garbage bag. It's still in the garage. Trash day Friday can't come soon enough.

Sunday morning, of course, I'm expecting about 15 guests for the big Bears-Packers party. I leave it up to my wife and my mom - we can either call everyone and cancel or you guys are stuck doing everything. They chose to do everything. So, I sat up in my room all day, trying to sleep and occasionally pissing out of my ass, while my entire family was downstairs drinking my beer, eating the food I prepared and celebrating a big Packer stomping of the Bears.

Long story cut short, I made it back to work yesterday and was finally able to eat an actual meal last night.

So, there you have it. Old guys have vomit-filled weekends, too.

So Let Me Get This Straight. You Are A Complete Loser and You are All Covered in Vomit, Have I Covered All the Pertinent Facts?

Well first and fore most as you probably have already noticed the blog is undergoing some changes. C$$$$ and I were really letting this blog slip, mainly because we are busy, or maybe just the fact that we have used all of our creatize ideas for posts so we are left grasping for any link that may get a chuckle. I am glad to have my cousin TK who has been a long time poster on this blog anyways. He is basically the smartest guy I know, and his posts should be easily distinguishable from those of mine and C$$$s. He is a new father and I think it will be fun for all of us to follow the trials and tribulations of a first time daddy. Our other new contribuitor, is Aaron Kempf, a life long friend of C$$$ and a friend of mine for about 10 years now I think. Kempf is always sending us new music, movie and video links, and as I will say has his ears a little bit closer to the street than I do. I always love listening to the ISH he sends me, and look forward to his contributions.

Now you are probably wondering about the title to this post and I am going to get to that. I have been hearing a lot of shit. Like Browne whats up why havent you told any really crazy stories about you drinking to much and tales and follies that ensue. Well to be honest with you I am in a relationship, and am trying to slowly turn the chapter on the getting completely shitfaced and doing something stupid stage of my life. Still dont think that I have completely changed my ways, I just chose to keep some things a little closer to the vest. Why, I am not really sure. I dont think my girl friend reads this at all. I just think I am not quite as fun as i once was. At any rate I do have a funny story to share.

This weekend was one I was looking forward to for a while as my Dad and I had been working on the house every weekend for the past month or so and this weekend he was going bow hunting so I didnt have any responsibilities to worry about. Usually that means I start drinking about five and dont get done until I am passed out on some strange couch. My brother was home from school and my dad did a big fish fry for him. I went to my parents house and started drinking beer and wine with my mom and dad. When i left around 8 or so I was feeling pretty good. I went to a couple of old friends from Marshall's house and had a few more beers while we reminisced and I admired there baby, before heading down to the bar. The bar was pretty lame, but it didnt stop me from drinking pretty hard. We decided to go on a little tour and went to waterloo but that was even more lame than Marshall so we came back. At this point it is about 12 and I am just a mess. I mean i feel invincible at this point and I just want to turn it up a notch. My friend Jake decided to take us back because he had to work in the morning so we got back to SP and decided to go down to the BA for a little night cap. Now i had only spent $25 during the time I spent in Marshall and Waterloo. Which was roughly about 4 hours. During the hour and half I was at the Bowling Alley I spent damn near $75 all of which were on shots or double whisky waters. Yes my decision making was pour. We pounded shot after shot while I was crushing the high score I set last week in my favorite trivia game. Before I knew it was time to go home. I got home and I was crashing hard. I basically laid on the couch and was out within 5 minutes. I woke up around 6 am and I wasnt feeling to hot. I grabbed the water bottle on the table and slammed. As soon as I set the water down I knew that was a mistake and felt my stomach turn. I knew what was about to happen was not good and I got up and started to run to the bathroom. I got right in front of the door to go outside, and I lost it. I put up my hands as some sort of puke catcher but that only sprayed my vomit on the door and sidewalls not to mention funnel it down right below me. I was still basically running towards the bathroom. What really sucked was because I puked on my synthetic floors they became super slippery. While I was running my legs both shot out from under me and I slammed on my back. Mind you I have two handfuls of puke in my hand which basically get thrown right back in my own face. So there I lay, on my back, covered from head to toe in puke. In my mind it cant get any worse, I really want to start crying because I feel like absolute shit, all i can smell is a terrible comination of wine, whisky, and dad's homemade cole slaw. I pick myself of the deck and make it the bathroom where I punish the toilet for a few minutes before stripping down and hopping in the shower. Now the ruckess of the fall must have woken up my roommate. He hit it hard with me the night before and needed to get a glass of water. What he didnt realized is the hall to the kitchen had just been vomitted, well he doing his near best Browne impersonation also slipped in the puke pile. Although he didnt, go down. He realized what he was standing in and immediately headed for the bathroom where he kicks open the door and sees me in the shower. Mind you it is 6 am and we are both completely hammered. We have this really smart conversation about me being sick and puking and he just laughs at my stupidity. For the next hour and half I am cleaning up puke and washing my clothes, before passing out until 1 pm. When I awoke again I wasnt sure if that had really happened but aaron quickly reminded me of what went down. Now I am a pretty notorius puker but i had gone at least 6 months with out puking before this weekend. What a way to get back on the horse. Anyways Saturday and Sunday I pretty much took it easy because i was hurting from Friday night. I cant do it like I used to and when I try I pay. Well I paid in the worse way Saturday morning.

Ish Droppings

I've been honored to be asked by Tasty and See-No to contribute to this most extraordinary blog, so what better way to celebrate my first post than with some most extraordinary Ishy freestyles. This here is Minneapolis natives Eyedea and Slug on the Sway & Tech Wake Up Show in 2002, I believe.

In my opinion, freestyling has become somewhat of a lost art. It can tell you a lot about an MC and how they think and approach hip-hop. Clearly, these two know how to have fun with it. And no doubt Eyedea is the best that ever did it. Just take a peek inside his trophy case sometime.

Check out the reactions on the faces of Sway & Tech throughout the session. And keep and ear out for Eyedea to drop some Ish bombs.

Well, I'll keep it short because the videos pretty much rhyme for themselves. Slater.

Jordan Blows

Below is a video my buddy Mark sent me and it is a little one-on-one with some CEO (who mark apparently knows) and the supposedly greatest of all time Mike Jordan. Anyways this CEO dominates Jordan and finishes him off with a sweet lefty lay in. This furthers my point that Kobe is the greatest basketball player of all time.



In all seriousness though, this camp probably costs $5000 grand a person for a couple of days away from the wife sweating with a bunch of old rich dudes, but the story this guy has to tell his kids must make it all worth it.

Damn I Wish I Could Grow Facial Hair

Here is a list to the top 20 manliest mustache and beards in Facial Hair history. All I can say are all these are awesome and I hate the fact that I can not grow facial hair for the life of me. What I never understood is I have a cod damn amazon rain forest below my belly button, and my chest hair is coming in quite nicely I might add, but nothing on this baby face. Life is just unfair.

Link

Fly Free, Lesbian Seagull...

That's right. Daddy's on the loose tomorrow. Mommy decided she'd rather stay home with the lad than freeze her ass off at Camp Randall while hoping a bunch of douchey Goophers don't seize The Axe. So, as John McCain would say, "my friends," I am off the leash.

What's lamer than a housebroken lapdog at home? You guessed, a housebroken lapdog pretending to run free like a ghetto pit bull. Sure, I'll be drinking before noon on Saturday. Sure, I'll be 75 miles from the wife and kid. Sure, I'll irritate the people who sit near me at the game with my profanity-laced, nonsensical tirades in don't-just-say-it-spray-it fashion. I will probably even join in with some kids in doing a nice, loud ASSHOLE chant at some d-bag Goopher fans on Breese Terrace. I might even wander over to Paisan's after the game and stuff my still half-drunk face with large portions of fatty foods before heading home.

That being said, as a lapdog, you have to pay the price for this debauchery - both before and after the freedom sprint. That's how it works. When you're single with no kids, you just do what you want to do. When you've committed yourself to a family, you have to do what you have to do when you have to do it in order to have any chance of doing something you want to do when you want to do that. Don't get me wrong, all of the things I do with my family are things I want to do. Still, it seems that when what you want to do doesn't exactly jibe with the family, you're going to get a reaction like you just shot Marvin in the face.

Long story longer, we're having about 20 family members (and other hangers-on) over on Sunday for a Bears-Packers party. Thanks to Uncle Al being at his seaside home in Baja California, Mexico, and the recent conversion of my cocksmoking cousin Big Tasty to the Packers camp, my infant son and I will be the only Bears fans in attendance.

What does this have to do with my plans for Saturday in Madison? Everything. In order to receive a pass to leave the house on Saturday, I must make preparations for the party in advance. Thus, I purchased my 8 lb. pork shoulder roast Wednesday. Last night, I went shopping for all of my other ingredients, beer and Bloody Mary supplies. After making dinner for my wife, I slapped my meat around. Not the way you single guys slap your meat on the couch while watching scramble porn. I'm talking about applying a dry rub to the pork shoulder. Today, the wife will throw it in the oven for me at noon so I can shred the pork this evening, concoct a tomato-vinegar sopping sauce, and then spend another hour preparing about 3 lbs. of macaroni and cheese with a nice panko breadcrumb crusty layer on top.

Saturday morning, since I plan on leaving the house by 10:30 to be drinking before noon, I will have to be up very early. I know you guys, when wanting to leave the house by 10:30, tend to get up at 10:45, smoke a cigarette and then wait for your ride to arrive, jump in the car and squeal out of the driveway with your roommate's loaded hashpipe in your pocket, leaving your roommate standing on the front porch looking really pissed off. Out the door cleanly. In contrast, I will probably need to get my son up and changed, get him into his swing, then vacuum the entire lower level,

Then, after I return Saturday night, I will have to take a little bit of gentle abuse over how long I was gone, why I shouldn't have had so much to drink, and all of the shit I have to do before the party pigs start showing up at 11 a.m. Sunday. So, Sunday morning, I will be up early for more cleaning, making up my Asian coleslaw salad, putting the beer on ice in coolers, getting my BBQ meatballs appetizer cranking, moving furniture around, setting up an extra tv. in the living room for overflow crowd to watch the game, etc.

So, you don't give up all of your freedom when you get married and have a kid, but you do have to earn it each and every time. Still, when I come in the door after work tonight, my wife will be standing in the kitchen holding our son. She'll give me a kiss and my son will flash a huge, goofy smile and I will think for a minute that maybe - just maybe - my heart isn't 100% into leaving home on my day off.

Deal with it.

Giraffes Blow, Sloths Kick Ass

SNL has made a sequel to the best video of all time and to nobodies suprise it sucked. This dissapoints me. I have linked both videos. Tell me which one you like more.

Top 10 Movie Rants

I know I have posted a few of my favorite movies scenes on here before but I saw this list and it inspired me to do my own top 10 list of best movie rants. Some of the ones on the list are really good and I have included them. All of these scenes are worth a look.

Top 10 Movie Rants

#10 "About Being Scottish" Trainspotting


#9 "Fuck You Pay Me!" Goodfellas


#8 "You Are Just a Kid" Good Will Hunting


#7 "Dicks, Pussies, and Assholes" Team America World Police


#6 "Sell Bubblegum in the Lock Jaw Ward of Belleview" Boiler Room


#5 "Jimmy Situation" Pulp Fiction


#4 "Goodnight Sweet Prince" Big Lebowski
Link

#3 "You Like Phil Collins?" American Pyscho


#2 "The Watch" Pulp Fiction


#1 "Where Do Sicilians Come From?" True Romance


I know I missed a ton. If you have some great rants please send me the link or quote it direct.

My son threw up in my ear...

So, as the title will notify the reader, I'm bringing a little different perspective to the blog. C-Weed and Big Tasty are just starting on their journeys from wild animal to lapdog. I am much further along. Yip! Yip!

Like most of you, I have probably vomited from drinking too much about 300 times, but none of those 300 happened in the past 3 years. I have only "been with" one woman in the past nine years or so. I have a career, a wife, a house, a mortgage, an SUV and a really awesome little boy, who will be 3 months old this week.

The vomit in my life these days does not reek of whiskey and chicken wings, nor does it splatter on the sidewalk by the dumpster. No, all of the vomit in my new life comes from my son, it smells like sour milk and it lands on my shirt, on his clothes, on the couch, etc.

The other night, I was lying on the couch on my back watching True Blood. My son was sitting on my chest and smiling away. I raised him up over my head, or performed a "baby press" as I call it. I turned my head to my left to look at the television and the little guy chirped right into my ear. I do not mean on the side of my head. I do not mean a little fell on my big Alfred E. Nueman ear flap. I mean that vomit flowed into my ear canal and it sounded like I was in the shower. Let's just say it required half a package of Q-Tips and a shower.

So, that is a small part of that to which you may look forward. Still, who could be mad at this little guy? I'm sure he didn't mean it.

I Am A Sore Loser, Deal With It!

Found this over at Al's blog. I guess he and I share some beliefs.


Obama Win Causes Obsessive Supporters To Realize How Empty Their Lives Are

Dear Santa

Well I usually dont start talking about what I want for xmas until at least thanksgiving but my girl friend has been bugging me about it. I am about as spoiled as a person can get and I usually get whatever I want. Ask C$$$ about the xmas I got damn near every single GI Joe and he got one. Didnt stop him from coming over and completely dominate me like he did every time we played GI Joe, but that was because of the simple fact that he could kick my ass. That is another story all together. Well this year I was having trouble coming up with anything that I need or want until my buddy dues sent me this link. Below you will see a chimp riding a segway. It dawned on me that there are two things I need, a chimp, as an ultimate companion, someone who I will help me play endless practical jokes with and possible replace my current roommate who believe me is as worthless as a chimp. The second thing would be a segway, mans greatest invention, eliminating the need to walk. Now I know you are telling yourself Browne, you are already the most lazy person I know. Is a segway really something you need. To that I answer, ummm I would excercise more if I didnt have to burn all that energy driving those 5 blocks to the gym. Answer=segway!!! Quick question to any law enforcement readers, is it possible to get a DUI on a segway because if it is not it basically pays for itself. Anyways Santa if you are listening, hook a brother up!

OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA

So I called Barack after he was voted the mutha fucking President of the United States of America to congratulate him on the victory. I went right to voicemail, he is crazy like that. I will let you know when he hits me back. He is probably, as all you know hit'n the skinz right now! Either way, wether you like it or not you just witnessed one of the biggest chunks of history ever. This is big babbbbbyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**this is a non partisanship blog,**