Rock Out With Your Frock Out

Hey everyone – I’m posting this on behalf of my cousin Velour. She’s starting an all-girl punk band and is looking for members!  They are called Savage Vag and they totally rock. You may have heard some of her previous bands, such as the popular mid-90’s all-girl ska band The Fallopian Tubas. And prior to that she played guitar in the folk duo Simon & Garfemale. There was also her experimental phase with Chumbawomba, but that’s all in the past. Now she’s turning over a new leaf with Savage Vag and is ready to rock. She just needs band members!  SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY!

The only criteria to join is that you have to be a girl, hence all-girl band. That’s all! You really don’t even have to know how to play an instrument, as she’s totally open to experimentation. Her last band had a “musician” who just held a baby* in front of a microphone. Crazy, I know – but people will let anything pass as music these days. Anyway, the last three all-girl bands she tried to start, dudes kept showing up to the auditions dressed as women (don’t tell her, but I am going to do this). They thought that women couldn’t rock (don’t tell her, but I think this). So they’d join the band, thinking that they were going to “save” them and show these girls how to rock (don’t tell her, but this is my intention). But as it turns out, the girls really could rock, and those dudes all learned a pretty valuable lesson that girls can rock just as much as guys (don’t tell me, but I am going to learn this). 

Think you have what it takes to rock? Sign up for your audition and let us know what “instrument” you play. In the meantime, I’m gonna go put on my best dress and show these girls how to really rock (even though I myself do not actually know how to rock)! My instrument of choice? This guy:

*Interesting fact: That baby went on to become NBA all star Kobe Bryant.

THE SEXPLAINATION

Karen and I have been dating for 5 wonderful weeks.  However, something a little odd happened in the bedroom a few nights ago.  In the middle of our rendezvous, she started calling out the name “Steve.”  At first I was like “Oh yeah, she’s loving this!  I am like the president of her vagina!”  But then I remembered her last boyfriend was also named Steve.  I stopped immediately and asked her to explain.  She said that I was being ridiculous and after a lot of hugs and tears over several bowls of Total Raisin Bran; I realized I was being a little silly and we went back to having sex (if you know what I mean).  Then she started screaming “Oh, Steve from 2005.  Oh, Steve from 2005!”  Hold up!  You could almost hear the record scratching in the room.  Now I was definitely onto her because we had only just met in July of 2008.  I was furious.  But then she explained that she had a huge time machine fetish and loved to fantasize about what I was like three years ago.  Well, say no more!  That was the kind of role playing I could get into.  I started to imagine us if we had known each other in 2005 and things got HOT!  I thought about how excited we’d get when Usher featuring Lil Jon & Ludacris won a Grammy for best Rap Song (Yeah!), how sad we’d get when we learned of the passing of Johnny Carson, and how indignant we’d get when we discussed how much PETA fumbled the Hurricane Katrina relief.  It was sizzling! But just as I was about to hang my chad, she starts yelling out “The Other Steve!  The Other Steve!  Not the one I’m having sex with but rather a completely different Steve all together.  In fact, any other Steve other than the one I’m having sex with right now!”  Well, I had had just about enough.  I got up to leave and she begged me to stay.  I never wanted to see her again.  Then she explained that it was a big misunderstanding: she just likes to think about any one but me during intercourse.  That’s when I asked myself: Who am I to judge? We all have our quirks in the bedroom.  For instance, when we’re making/creating love, I like to think about spending the rest of my life with her, but that’s just the sick shit that gets me off.

Easy Money

 

                                                         

I’m not proud of this, but a few years back I was really hard up for cash and ended up participating in a few scientific experiments downtown.  Pretty basic stuff like trying out new kinds of sleeping pills and one time they just monitored my reaction to getting a light bulb turned on in my face over and over again. Sometimes I worried that the “lab” looked more like an “abandoned wearhouse” and the “nice Columbia University undergrad scientists” looked more like “old grizzled Ukrainian scientists who had been excommunicated because of their extreme ideals and their complete and utter disregard for human life.” But I was making like 75 bucks a day. They led me into a chamber and told me to catch as much flying money as I could in 60 seconds, but that was a trick.  Long story short: They cloned me. Multiple times.  Very poorly. One clone is a total nerd.  While another can’t get enough sports and loves the night life.  One thinks Led Zeppelin is the most overrated rock band in history.  While another thinks that Zeppelin were pioneers in the way they used basic blues chord structure to redefine rock and roll (and that the ending of Stairway is fucking mind blowing).  One likes Zach Braff and Pepsi.  Another likes Zach Braff and Pepsi One. They’re nothing like me!  Or…perhaps I’m exactly like all of them, all at the same time.  Perhaps we are more complex people than we’d like to admit.  Sometimes we can’t fit a human being into one “personality type.” Perhaps all of my shitty clones represent all of the complexities that is the human condition. Now imagine us all living together in one house! And Keenan Ivory Wayans plays our lovable butler who can’t keep any of us straight.  ”What? Do all white clones look the same to you Keenan Ivory?”  

Coming this fall to NBC:”Throw Me A Clone”  Wednesdays at 9:30/8:30 Central.

-Steve

There’s A Party In My Pool, And You’re Invited

I’m gonna be throwing a pool party pretty soon, and I’m really excited about it. I just put together the most hilarious invitation and I had to share it.

Nate’s Having an Ool Party!

Hey everyone, I’m having an Ool Party!

You may be wondering what an “Ool Party” is. Well, it’s like a Pool Party, but there’s no P (pee [urine]) in our Pool. So it’s an Ool Party! We will also be serving Asta! You may be wondering what “Asta” is. Well, it’s like Pasta, but there’s no P (pee [urine]) in our Pasta. So it’s Asta! It’s also a sleep over, and we will supply Illows. You may be wondering what “Illows” are. Well, they’re like Pillows, but there’s no P (pee [urine]) in our Pillows. So they’re Illows! We will also supply Ajamas. You may be wondering what “Ajamas” are. Well, they’re like Pajamas, but there’s no P (pee [urine]) in our Pajamas. So they’re Ajamas! And the next day, we will have an Ool Tournament. You may be wondering what an “Ool Tournament” is. Well, it’s like a Pool Tournment, but there’s no P (pee [urine]) in our Pool Tournament. So it’s an Ool Tournament!

There will also be Pizza.

Hope to see you there! Please R.S.V. in the comments section if you can make it. In the meantime, I have to go to the Doctor’s to get my Enis checked out. You may be wondering what an “Enis” is. Well, it’s like a Penis, but there’s no P (pee [urine]) in my Penis because I’m seriously dehydrated and need urgent medical attention. Consequently, I may not make it to the party. But have a good time and try not to break any of my things.

New Logo!

A long while back, we held a contest with a bunch of first graders to help us design a new logo. There has been four years of deliberation, but we finally chose a winner!

Would you buy a t-shirt/sweatshirt/beard trimmer with this logo on it? You would. You will! There were a few runners up, but all of their designs used elbow macaroni and pipe cleaners and looked totally awful. In retrospect, we probably should’ve asked third graders to design a logo instead. The kid who made this clearly had help from his parents. We don’t condone cheating or anything, but until now, no artist has been able to capture the way Steve always grabs my chin when we pose for photos (I still have no idea why he does this).

Blow Your Mind? Don’t Mind If I Do.

There are some very misinformed people in the world that believe that racism and prejudice no longer exist today.  If only that were true.  Sadly, I experience the injustice of this world all the time.  People hate me.  Or worse yet, they are afraid of me.  All because of one little characteristic in my life, I’m branded a monster.  To clarify, I am a bridge troll.  Always have been, always will be.  But that’s not all there is to being me.  I also enjoy riddles and word games immensely.  That has also carried over to crossword puzzles, word jumbles, and mad-libs.  Occasionally, if someone wants to cross my bridge, instead of three riddles, I’ll give them three sudoku to solve.  Sometimes I just give them my world famous movie quiz.  Por ejemplo: “What is Gene Hackman’s greatest performance?”  You would be surprised by how many people say “Hoosiers.”  The correct answer is actually “Crimson Tide.”  I know, it surprised me too at first but then I thought about it and now I get it.  See, I’m no monster.  I’m just a guy who lives underneath a bridge.  It’s no biggie.  People who want to cross my bridge might have to answer a few questions about Ryan Reynolds.  Woopty Doo.  And if they don’t know the answer I get to eat them.  Does that makes me some kind of evil creature?  Of course not.  I’m a normal guy who likes normal things.  I like puzzles, bridges, darkness, chasing, tearing, eating, snorting, and the films of Rob Reiner (his earlier work).  So if you see a bridge troll in your misadventures, don’t be afraid.  We don’t bite. Well, we do but-we don’t do it automatically.  

-Steve

A Day At The Races

I don’t know what happened, but a couple of days a go I was feeling L-U-C-K-Y (that spells “LUCKY”), so I decided “What the hay” and headed on down to the horse track. Now this may sound cliche, but I decided to put all of my life’s savings on a single horse in a single race based strictly on its name. To clarify, that’s $4.00 on a horse named “Shitbag.” And you know what?  Good ol’ Shitbag won! And thus I was the proud owner of a crisp $8.00 bill (hello, Mr. Buchanan!)

You know, I’ve always told myself “if I suddenly come into a whole bunch of money, I’m not just gonna keep it all to myself, I’m going to help better the world with it!” I thought I was staying true to that, but in retrospect, I’m not sure how buying a box of Fruit Roll-Ups and three cans of Sprite bettered the world (but it sure as hell bettered my day). And if you can’t stay true to yourself, who can you stay true to? I decided I should try to win some more money that I could do good things with. So back to the races I went! But because I didn’t have any money left, this time I had to use other things to place my bets.  So I went up to the bookie and put down my grandfather’s pocket watch, the deed to my house, my high school yearbook, and most of my dignity. Likewise, I put it all on Shitbag. And you know what?  He LOST! Then the thought of having to give up my high school yearbook put me into such an intense rage that I blacked out and when I came to I was on the tracks trying to fight all of the horses! I managed to take a few of them out with some uppercuts and body slams, but eventually I was overwhelmed and had to get out of there. So I jumped on the back of the nearest horse and rode off.

I learned an important lesson in all of this, but then I saw this happen and forgot what that lesson was:

Me and Shitbag after totally pigging out on Sprite and Fruit Roll-Ups (guess which one is me!)