This dog drinks regularly from a drinking fountain, the kid just gets in the way.  I want to buy this doggie.

Big thank you to Katie Hunt for approaching the child, it’d of been really weird if it was me.

The dogs are evolving, it will be a matter of days before they’re having sex with our women and riding our motorcycles!!!

Would you buy an app for 4.99 that will text people on your phone anonymously, by generating a random number that they can text back?

I’m working on this, and I’m not sure it’s worth it.

Could be used for prank phone calls messing with your buddy or text messaging people randomly.

Would you buy it?

I’m a DC Comics guy. 
DC has Watchmen, Batman: Year One, Killing Joke, Jeph Loeb’s run in Batman, Green Arrow, Green Lantern, especially the Parralax thing into the Spectre thing.  Plus select runs of Superman are bareable.

I know the Avengers Movie is out, that’s great.  Everyone seems excited.  I like the Avengers… when its called Justice League.

If Captain Marvel is in the movie and it deals with the Infinity Gauntlet (no spoilers) and if Jim Starlin wrote it, then I’ll and enjoy it, but Crisis on Infinite Earths is better anyway.

Photoshop?

That’s not Keanu’s body….

Are these Facebook advertisements made by computers or Indian call centers?

Captain of Industry.

Don’t get drunk at a trade show and then flirt with one of the girls running it.  You end up of proof of your stupidity on the website of the show.

Thanks American trade show circuit.  You don’t even feel like reality.

Fake friends you see every once an awhile, the same people, all living in this carnival of commerce.  It’s America alright, the real America.  The real capitalist America.

(insert something deep that resolves all this.)

I’m in the Bahamas today, probably going to get stabbed.

I’ll be performing live tonight at Red Bar Art Gallery in Downtown Miami.

It will be streaming on some podcast if you’d like to here.  Show starts at 9pm.

My set list looks like this:

1.  Introducing Swag Yolo

2.  Brazilian Water Fountain

3.  My GF Broke Up with Me Because I’m Fat

4.  2012

5.  My Grandfather’s Dead (why I don’t smoke weed)

6.  Gangbang Hockey Team

7.  Musical Interlude

8.  Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

@kayperry75 in a really cool interactive audio slash text interview.  Journalism rules.

This girl recorded this song with me (I isolated her vocals and took out mine.)

I laid there nuzzling myself into her hips.  Talent is infinitely more sexy to me than anything else. 

As she sang this to me, I wanted nothing more than to just lay her back and remind her why we’re on the planet Earth…

This song is called Nature Boy, the best version is by Nat King Cole.

The greatest Disney movie is Lion King.

I’m sure we all agree.

That being said, I always wondered something about the Nala and Simba relationship.

“The pride consists of five or six related females, their cubs of both sexes, and one or two males who mate with the adult females.”

So we had Mustafa, King of the Pride etc, and we have Scar, villian and Mustafa’s brother (cough, Hamlet, cough.)

So chances are…  that Mustafa was the one who knocked up Nala’s mom, either that or it could have been Scar, but I think that subject would have been broached if that was the case…

Which explains why Simba was so awkward.

Lesbian Party at LMNT or Fear and Loathing in a Miami Art Gallery by Nelio Cuomo Costa

Getting off the stage of some Ft. Lauderdale dive bar, and I had just bombed.  The audience barely listened to my comedic ramblings.  Nothing accentuates bombing more than just driving home and crawling into a little ball whilst reliving the experience in your head over and over.

With perfect timing, a friend invited me to a private lesbian birthday party at the Miami art gallery LMNT.

Having recently become acquainted with one of the talented resident artists there, her metal frame designs breathtaking, I wanted to delve further into the art community. 

I walked into the party like I was walking onto a yacht.

Beautiful young hip Miami women were rubbing onto each other seductively celebrating, not one of them was interested in me.

It was exactly like stepping into a straight-club…

This is what I call broadening my horizons.  Whilst grabbing a drink, a loud and intoxicated lesbian, elbowed in front of me and gave me a long session of smiling eye contact.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’d be mistaken for a girl.

I ordered my drink in the deepest tone of voice I could muster.  She was not swayed from my presence.

“Grey Goose with a splash of cran.”

Ms. Eye Contact chimed in,

“and one for me.”

The bartender and I had met, so he shot me a glance.

I smirked and nodded yes as slowly as possible.

It would still be a few moments in the crowded art gallery for him to make our drink so she had me as a captive audience.

“Who are you?”  she said.

“Nobody.” I replied, doing my best Don Draper impression.

“Well, you’re here, so you’re somebody.”

I started wondering who I was.

I’m a bad stand-up comedian.  A failed writer.  A displaced Chicagoan.  A recently single, moderately interesting, mediocre boyfriend. 

Saved by the drink’s arrival.

She took me by the hand, and continued the eye contact. 

“Let’s go explore.”

Had I found the only girl who could have been interested in my penis?

Not likely.

We go into the back rooms of the gallery where all the resident artists have their studios.  A male friend of mine was already back there starting trouble with the Head Lesbian, who’s party we were there for.

“It’s my birthday motherfucker.”  she shrilled as she cut him in line and entered the bathroom accompanied by a tall black goddess.  Being the birthday girl has it’s perks.

The lights were low, the resident artist I know, has her studio in the back.

Two girls were moaning from inside that studio.  I wondered if my artist friend was aware of the extracurricular activities at the gallery.  They had a shower in the bathroom there, two more girls were mutually fulfilling carnal needs inside.

I had only dreamed of places like this five years ago.  Thank you Miami.

Eye Contact sat down on a bench and finished her drink.  It felt like she was running a fever.  She began to rub my shoulders with her right hand while starting up conversation with a tiny girl with a short haircut.  The dark crowded hallway suddenly was empty except for the three of us.

Eye Contact took her hands off my shoulder and started making out with Haircut.  I did my best trying to pretend that stuff like this happens to me every single day.  They must have forgotten I was there.

She pulled Haircut’s shirt over her breasts and started the long delicate beginnings of lesbian foreplay.  I watched, mostly to pick up some tips, while appearing as bored as possible and trying not to stare. 

As this progressed, I wondered what I was supposed to do?

Should I have just taken my pants off and placed my penis in between the two?

Was this an invitation? 

They laid across the same bench I was sitting on and Eye Contact began to bring Haircut’s pants down.  The best I could do at this point was a half-moan/half-sigh.  It caused the heavily drugged Haircut to look at me and notice they weren’t the only two in the dark hallway.

I again did my best Don Draper smirk, anything for her to believe that this was how I normally spent my Saturday nights.

As Eye Contact started to deliver sloppy licks over the outside or Haircut’s dark green panties, Head Lesbian and the gorgeous Black Goddess stumbled out of the bathroom, drenched with disheveled dresses draped ludely across their bodies.  Not all of this moisture was water from the shower.

The sudden light spilling into the hallway crushed the fantasy moment for me.

Eye Contact looked over with a look of terror.

Head Lesbian was not happy. 

“Who is this!?”  she yelled.

I was trying to think of a witty response.

Eye Contact sneered,

“Her name is Emily.”

They were talking about Haircut.  Suddenly, I started to see the situation for what it was.  Head Lesbian and Eye Contact apparently were an item.  Black Goddess was fair game (due to birthday rules?) and Haircut was not even invited to the party (neither was I, kind of.)  Eye Contact was trying to make Head Lesbian jealous all along.

The first thought I had was,

“I’m really glad I didn’t try the “penis in between the lesbian trick” I was thinking of trying moments earlier.”

Haircut began pulling her pants up and shirt down while ignoring Head Lesbian.

Everyone was clearly on hard drugs, alcohol, and sex (except for myself as the heterosexual bystander).

After a short and belligerent argument, Eye Contact motioned me to follow her back into the main gallery area.  It dawned on me that lesbian couples aren’t always as free and as perfect as I thought in my head.  They have the same problems of jealousy and coexistence that straight couples have.

Once outside and into the general population, it occurred to me that I needed to go home, the sun would be rising soon and I had told myself I was going to get to church.  At this point, I needed it.  I embraced Eye Contact and kissed her as lovingly as I could muster.  Haircut’s scent still lingered on her face.

Had I found some extra testosterone somewhere, I would have continued the night, but at the age of 27, I’m an old man.

I had said about twelve words since bombing at that dive bar.

Into the warm Sunday morning Miami air I went.  Walking towards my car, it was 4am and the line to get into LMNT was long.  Cute lesbians in short black dresses, few older than 22 years old were plentiful.

It hit me,

Forget the Miami comedy scene, I should learn how to paint.

I was visiting customers in Miami and saw this. 

You’d think it’s just a nickname, but this chick came out and looked at my car, then busted out a big floppy penis!

C’mon Miami, fool me twice!

neldeezy:

Here’s the plot of The Hangover 3

-          Allan is getting married to female version of himself, played by Amy Poehler or Kristen Wiig

-          The Girls are forced to have party in Las Vegas for Allan’s fiancee, who calls them the Cougarpack.  End up losing Phil’s wife.

-          Boys find way to Amsterdam, can’t find Allan’s fiancee’s hard-living uncle, played by Charlie Sheen

-          Asian little brother has quit college and become new version of Chow, has comical mechanical finger

-          Chow breaks out of prison and saves the day

-          Add Mike Tyson

-          ????

-          Gross $467 million worldwide…

FYI:  it was announced last week this was going to be made…

This happened to me a few years ago:

Worst Little Barbecue Joint in Arkansas: An Adventure in Masculinity

I try new things.  When approached with trying new restaurants and doing new things, I take a daring attitude and jump in headfirst.

This time, I was defeated.

Ray’s barbecue in eastern Arkansas was the worst fucking restaurant I’ve ever eaten at in the United States of America.

Check that, in the entire world.

I’ve lived in Brazil, I’ve eaten in the south side of Chicago, I’ve eaten in poor people’s homes in Italy, and I’ve never eaten in a dirtier place in my life then Ray’s Fucking WORLD FAMOUS Barbecue.

Am I being too tough on this place?  Allow me to explain.

I woke up this Saturday morning, after a very nice night in Memphis and a pretty decent interview with a prospective employee and decided to check out some of the local flavor.  The place pictured above seemed perfect.  I look for gems just like this all around the country, and am lucky to have met some amazing people in the process.

I strolled into the shack, located in the middle of nowhere, on the side of the road and I felt all young and hip, still wearing a Canali suit with a light blue tie. 

The place smelled like somebody fucking died in there.  No, I mean like somebody had died in there this afternoon and nobody cleaned up the fucking body yet.

Having braved some inhumane eating conditions previously, I decided to do my best and order some barbecue anyway.

I took my paper plate filled with lumps of what could have been any animal in the universe, baked beans, and oddly yellow potato salad.  I mean yellow like a banana.  I filled my cup with “Unsweetened Tea” and sat down.

Two very large women were sitting as the same table as myself and had stopped talking since I entered.  Everyone in the place just sat there looking at me.

A little girl, about eleven years old came in and saw me and stopped.  She stopped and looked at me.  She wore a shirt that said, “I Speak Arkansaw.”

“Good news!” I thought to myself.

I began to slowly eat.  I wanted to savor the flavor and enjoy the moment.  I had already decided this was the last time I was going to eat in a roadside barbecue place in the south.

“Honey, y’all look real familiar.  Do I know you from the TV?”

I smiled, for some reason, my face constantly warrants this response.  I’ve resigned it to the fact that I look like a cross between Andy Milonakis and the fat kid from Drake and Josh before he simply became the second skinny kid from Drake and Josh.

“No ma’am.”  I replied, trying to fit in.  I smiled widely at her.

At that very moment a large commotion happened in the kitchen.  I swear this is the god’s honest truth.  Some sort of animal had jumped out from the back of the stove and nobody wanted to kill it.  Everyone just screamed about it for like five minutes.  Every few seconds, another labored yelp would come from one of the employees.  What if I had been a health inspector?

The customers didn’t think this was at all out of the ordinary so I tried to fit in.  One woman gave me a knowing look and chuckled.  I went along eating.  I mistakenly took a sip out of my tea and immediately fell into shock.

It tasted as if somebody’s grandmother had just pissed directly in my mouth.  I mean directly from the source, with the appropriate temperature and taste.  No one had changed the tea in that particular container for at least nine weeks.  A combination of the barbecue, and the smell, and the yelling cooks and now the rancid old lady piss of iced tea had gotten the best of me.  I stood up, leaving the food at the cafeteria-style table and walked out of the restaurant.  Leaving behind me looks of shock and concern.

I ended up spitting up iced tea and got some on my suit.  I turned around and angrily gave the middle finger in the general direction of the restaurant to no one in particular.

“Fuck you!”

I became aware of the barbecue and potato salad entering my system.  Not knowing if it was actually making me sick or if my own mind had caused the sick feeling I began to feel.

I slammed the door of my rental car and gave the middle finger one last time to my rear view mirror.  If a Ray actually exists, I wish to spit his rancid geriatric piss iced tea directly in his face.

But as a business owner, I know that these things are difficult to keep up with, and maybe Ray has to deal with sick family members or something so I personally give him a break, but I’m not sure if I can ever eat barbecue again.

As I drove back into Memphis I started to wonder if the problem wasn’t “Ray’s WORLD FAMOUS” barbecue, or that I didn’t really “taste the difference.”

Maybe the problem is that I can’t “man up” and enjoy the eccentricity that makes America and the surrounding world great…

or

Fuck Ray and his shitty rat infested motherfucking barbecue.

Adam Sandler came into my life as an obsession.  I would listen to his comedy albums on repeat, and then recount them with friends.  Honing my impressions of “The Goat” and learning “Medium Pace” on the guitar to freak out my mom. 

“Billy Madison” was easily my first favorite movie and then it was immediately taken over by “Happy Gilmore” then “Waterboy.”

I was under the impression that we’d get a feel-good goofy comedy every couple of years until I died.

More recently, Adam Sandler appears to be testing the “how long can I shit in my customer’s mouths before they stop paying me money.”

But in the middle, he gave us this scene at us, in “Click” in which he died as an absent father who dies rich and disliked by his family.  I wasn’t ready to see this.  I was expecting a goofy romp through stupidity, not to cry in a movie theater in front of my girlfriend at the time!

Where the hell did “He called the shit poop!” go? 

Where the hell did “Stop Looking at me swan!” go?

Fuck you Adam Sandler

Fuck You.