AthertonAve

Zombie Majority (by ThoseArentMuskets) Majorities are crucial in...

Sun, 15 May 2011 23:16:00 -0400

Majorities are crucial in a healthy democratic system.
Enjoy Michael Swaim & Co. over at ThoseArentMuskets.com
…it’s definitely worth your wasteful time.

Miss B-Haven (May 14th)

Sat, 14 May 2011 13:00:00 -0400

Dear Miss B-Haven,

What are the acceptable wedding outfits? Are there levels of outfits, and can I get away with the ”no jacket, no tie” approach if I’m only a guest? I hate formal wear, and I’m stuck with FIVE weddings this summer with my girlfriend.

Rather Stay @ Home,

Scranton, Pa

Dear Rather Stay at Home,

I wanted to come to work today without my pants because it’s comfortable, but did I, NO! Why, because I’m an adult and that’s part of life’s responsibilities. Think of these weddings like a job, you are going with your girlfriend and relationships are work (especially when it comes to being a guest at a wedding!!)

I’m going to tackle this in two sections, the first is what this means to your girlfriend. Honestly, your girl probably doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the people getting married. Deep down inside, she wants to be the one walking down the aisle. She may say how much she loves weddings and she may even shed a tear, not because the bride looks ravishing (your girl is silently praying the bride trips). It is because she is feeling sorry for herself. The reasons she is going is, one, because she is obligated and two, because she wants to show her friends and family that she has a boyfriend and there is hope for her future. So now my friend, you need to realize that you are going to be on display on these weddings. She is showing you off like Pam Anderson did her new boobs. This goes way beyond what you are wearing! Think of yourself as an actor in a movie because you are going to have to turn into someone you are not for a few hours. Your girlfriend wants the other girls to drool; she wants her family thinking you are going to produce the world’s most perfect offspring; she wants her old boyfriends to see exactly what they are missing out on. She wants you to be everything you are not and more: handsome, debonair, polite, rich etc. Honestly, don’t be surprised if she writes you a script to adhere to. In her mind, this is her show, and you, Mr. Boyfriend, are the star. I’m not sure how long you have been going out, but she may only be with you because she knew these weddings were coming, and she was NOT going stag. Weddings are the unmarried girl’s hell on earth.

Now, back to your question, which I think has already been answered. Seeing that you have a girlfriend, trust me, you will be instructed on what to wear, or your outfit will be laid out. If she isn’t approving of your attire, I would be a little scared and question the validity of your relationship. If she allows you to show up in whatever you want, she is setting you up to show everyone you really are the loser she said you were. Sometimes, we like to keep boys like that around for these events because we enjoy hearing that we can do better. It boosts our self-esteem. Or, because we are going to go dressed to the nines, and other men will go “Damn, that girl is hot, what the hell is she doing with that loser” and we are praying that man’s competitive side will kick in and he will rescue us from the disaster known as you.

In closing I will say this. The weddings you are attending have nothing to do with you! The couples have planned this day for a long time, and the most you can do is show up in attire that best represents the theme of the wedding. I’m sure you know other people who are going, ask what they are wearing. The invitation often sets the tone for these events. A picnic at Francis Walter Dam might be more casual than a candle lit dinner at the Bear Creek Inn. Don’t be that guy that shows up looking like he doesn’t want to be there, this day may not be important to you but it is important to others. Have a little class, and stop being such a whinny baby. You will have to be dressed up for a few hours; they will have the memory of their wedding for years and years to come. You don’t want to stick out like a sour thumb and be remembered as the loser guest!

Love Always, Miss B-Haven

Be sure to follow me on Twitter @MissBHaven6

Obi-Wan Kenobi Is Dead, Vader Says - Galactic Empire Times

Thu, 12 May 2011 19:48:58 -0400

Obi-Wan Kenobi Is Dead, Vader Says - Galactic Empire Times:

AthertonAve celebrating the great geekdom in all of us!

Monday’s BONUS 80s Music Video Break: Since we missed last...

Mon, 09 May 2011 00:26:25 -0400

Monday’s BONUS 80s Music Video Break:

Since we missed last Tuesday, we make amends with a double-feature for this week.

Holding Out for a Hero — Bonnie Tyler (1985)

Bonnie Tyler could arguably reappear on our list at least three more times. We’ll give her due to this mid-decade blast, Holding Out for a Hero.
Originally penned for the Footloose soundtrack, another album of fathomless awesomeness likely to be featured heavily in this series, our attention instead focuses on the music video that followed the release of the film.
In it, our Miss Tyler, suffers the worst fate of any homestead maiden: Her house is firebombed, and she is forced, shoulder-pads and all, to flee.

She can only run so far (like, geez, 15 feet?!?) until three dark and shadow cowboys surround her menacingly, lassos whipping lazily as they…..oh for crissakes…the cowboys show up to rape her.

But like any poor scripted feature, they decided to let her sing, giving time for her white knight (dressed in all in white, including his gun, just in case the viewer can’t process symbolism) to arrive.

And arrive he does, after 2 stanzas and a partial bridge..most likely, in his defense, because he was waylaid by uncontrollable aerobicizing (drop the lyrics AND LISTEN to the music).

Her hero on his white steed, looking uncomfortably a bit TOO fabulous in that suit, chases the villains off…presumably killing them, but we cannot know as the climatic battle is rather lame (probably because the director blew the budget on filming on location at the Grand Canyon).

So her cowboy hero shows up at the end..while her house still burns. Whether to carry her off to rapturous eternal pleasure…or maybe to finish the rape. We just never find out.

But so much better than Footloose.

Poems for Men (part deux)

Sun, 08 May 2011 23:49:55 -0400

“Poems for Men”

Motor is revvin now
ya got me drivin in the fast lane
shiftin through your gears
pavin my own way
your curves shine in the sun
you and me, on the run

This is about a car.

-Robert Frost Junior Jr.

Miss B-Haven (May 6th)

Fri, 06 May 2011 12:07:00 -0400

This Sunday, May 8^th, Mothers all over will be receiving cheesy handmade cards, sloppy breakfast in bed and cheap jewelry from Wal-Mart, why, because it’s Mother’s Day. Another Hallmark holiday, another day we feel obligated to make others feel special (shouldn’t we be doing that several times a year?!?!).

This year, I am starting a new holiday, this will be celebrated the Monday after Mother’s Day, and I shall call this new Holiday: We’re not Mother’s Day. Just as there are millions of happy mothers out there, there are millions of women who are happy they are not a mom. Why?

1. Because they don’t want to be (stop telling us about our biological clocks!)

2. We medically can’t have children and don’t feel it’s necessary to spend thousands of dollars trying. (Please stop telling us about positions that work, standing on our head, or how it will happen when we least expect it!)

3. We just like a good roll in the hay and pray to the condom God’s each time he gets that twisted look on his face (hey don’t judge!)

On Mother’s Day morning, as Mommy is struggling to get screaming Johnny, kicking Mary and lazy Bobby ready for brunch, she could care less about that damn macaroni cross they made and just wishes, for one night, she was at the bar child free, on her 3^rd vodka cranberry. However, she will continue on to brunch because that is what a “good” mother does.

So Monday, we cheer those who don’t give a rat’s ass about diapers, soccer practice, private schools, tickle me Elmo’s or bedtimes! We celebrate those who aren’t populating the Earth with more spoiled little obese brats who take up our time and energy!

For this occasion I have created the card below; please feel free to print and share with those you love.

Disclaimer & Warning: Gentlemen, please do not give this card to the women in your life with no sense of humor, or those who WANT and desire to be Mommy, as you may end up dead due to strangulation by your own penis.

(an original cartoon from two original artists - an AthertonAve...

Thu, 05 May 2011 23:59:00 -0400

(an original cartoon from two original artists - an AthertonAve special weekly feature)

The Hobo Rants (May 5th)

Thu, 05 May 2011 23:55:00 -0400

(AthertonAve note: Continue after the jump at your own risk…or personal taste)

This is a bunch of shit, peoples. I can’t take it. Cowabunga, motherfuckers. I feel

like this world is picking on me. This crap ain’t fair. I gotta black cloud of diarrhea above my head. I just did 3 days in the L.C.C.F. for sniffing some grandma’spanties on Hancock St. in W.B. Man, peoples, whatever happened to freedom of smell. I used to be able to smell anything I wanted. If I can’t take a whiff of no panties then cut my nipples off and go throw ‘em around up at that strip place G10.

Speaking of G10, man, we tried to get The Beaver in there. We goes up there last week. I spit two big loogies on her jungle boobs right there on her nipples, and then I grabbed two leafs from the ground, and we made it look like pasties. You ain’t got no money you gotta work around shit, peoples. You throw me a dime and I’ll start barking like a rooster. So we goes in G10 and interview and they tell Beaver to take off her clothes. So, she does, and this here manager starts freaking out, yelling, “call the cops, this bitch got Whoopi Goldberg between her legs.” No shit. Swear on chicken wings. I said, “Hold up, that ain’t no Whoopi Goldberg. That’s a genuine 80’s bush she got there.”

Man, he says overall the Beaver looks worse than the mashed potatoes at Old Country Buffet. So we get kicked outta there and the Beaver is crying. Man, I never seen her so upset before. It’s too much, man. We been down too long. We need a break.

Man, we thought ‘bout getting the Beaver in some dirty movies but her Slinky titties won’t cut it. We’re gonna have to cut those puppies off. We’re trying to figure shit out, man. Gonna probably call up Jerry Springer and see if we can get on his show. Give me a jar of pickles and a hand job and I’ll beat the living shit out of Beaver onstage. Man, we’ll sniff some glue and go apeshit up there. Jerry Springer will retire from TV and become Thom Greco’s assistant when we’re done with him.

I’m tired, peoples. Tired of being tired. There’s gotta be a better way. I tried toget my G.E.D. in prison this weekend but they told me I can’t get it in 3 days.   You see?   They keep me down. Man, I’ll go sniff more panties then. Get locked up again. I’ll sniff anything these days. Man, can’t sniff the Beaver though cuz her vaginal crevice gets all yucky and starts smelling like she’s got a boatloat of illegal aliens up there.

Man, I should start my own shit. I gotta a chicken wing recipe that will make Tom Cruise a normal son-of-a-bitch again. Jumping on couches and shit on Oprah. Man, put me on Oprah and I’ll tell the broad I’ll be her human toilet seat for a bag of grapes. Jesus, peoples, last time I jumped on a couch was 1972, and my mom picked up and left me at Martz ten minutes later. I love Oprah. Beaver does too. She’s good people. I’d love to kiss her right on her big head. Oprah’s head is so big it looks like a Macy’s float on Thanksgiving.

It’s all crazy though. The whole world. You got people in Scranton talking Mexican and Kung-Fu shit when they order their wings. Gimme a dozen of kung-pow uno-dos-mananas, motherfucker. You get it? I’m trying to tell you something here. This shit ain’t working. It’s a hypocrite thing. The glass ain’t full like the other half of the glass. You know I gotta problem with riddles. Jesus H. I can’t say shit.  I tell you not to eat yelow snow you’ll come back with piss dripping off your chin.

Nobody’s listening.  It’s like the world cut off their ears. Gotta think for yourself. Question some shit.

We’re being lied to.

I saw Osama bin Laden just last night smoking a jammer in his van with George Wesley outside the Jazz Cafe. Swear on it. They asked me the time. I said I haven’t had a watch since 1986. I had one of the swatches like Flavor Flav, dangling around my neck. I used to pimp out the homeless whores in Pittston. Man, I had me a good roll back then. I had a Miami Vice coat and some shades. I looked like I was a roadie for Huey Lewis. That’s probably when I got the AIDs. Man, first time someone told me to use a rubber, I put a rubber-band on my nugget and shoved it in.

You gotta teach yourself, peoples. Someone gives you a lemon, you squeeze that shit in his eyes, kick him in the balls, and steal the motherfucker’s money. That’s how I roll. Got all these Chuck Norris jokes out there. I’m the one under the bridge with a crazy Beaver. Man, I give up. I’m going to go sniff some more panties.

Peace,
Hobo Ranter

Minor Matchmaker (by joeyanddavid)

Sat, 30 Apr 2011 20:43:00 -0400

Minor Matchmaker (by joeyanddavid)

For any detractors to AthertonAve’s subcontracted...

Fri, 29 Apr 2011 20:25:15 -0400

For any detractors to AthertonAve’s subcontracted odds-maker, we leave you with this clip, so as to further justify Mr Cage’s #1 pre-ranking.

(probably should note this clip is also NSFW)

Worst Actor Madness

Fri, 29 Apr 2011 20:16:00 -0400

Welcome to our first ever, March-Madness-esque, face-off of the Worst Actors ever.

Over the next week (or so), some of our favorite A-listers (arguably) will match talents against each other for the coveted championship of full-time cheeze.

(This, of course, is an exhaustive list of 16 acting titans. The comment section is always WIDE OPEN for whatever disagreements this list may expectably generate)

Please understand & appreciate that we cannot include everyone (otherwise, this series would extend ALL summer, based on our usual output).
All actors qualifying for the Top 16 must have produced at least three films of agonizing quality. A film must have been released within the past 2 years in at least limited release (direct to DVD does not count).
Pre-Tourney rankings consist of a convoluted odds-maker, who’s methods cannot possibly be explained. Trust us.

Nic Cage is the odds-on favorite to win. Some things are no-brainers.

Seeds are in parentheticals:

Nicolas Cage (1)—vs—Martin Lawrence (16)
Michael Cera (2)—vs—Matthew McConaughey (15)
Keanu Reeves (3)—vs—Adam Sandler (14)
Brendan Fraser (4)—vs—Paul Walker (13)
Kevin Costner (5)—vs—Al Pacino (12)
Vin Diesel (6)—vs—Eddie Murphy (11)
John Travolta (7)—vs—Channing Tatum (10)
Sylvester Stallone (8)—vs—Ashton Kutcher (9)

GAME ON, gentlemen!!!

The Hobo Rants (April 28th)

Thu, 28 Apr 2011 12:41:00 -0400

(AthertonAve note: Continue forward at your own personal risk and/or taste)

Met Jesus on Saturday at the VFW. Man, things ain’t going good for him. Said hecame down for the resurrection. He was coming down from bath salts, beard full of fleas, spittle on the corners of his lips. Man, he looked like The Dude in The Big Leboski. Thought he was gonna order a White Russian. Times are bad, peoples. Even Jesus can’t make it. Man, Jesus looked worse than Mel Gibson in that movie when Mel Gibson played Jesus. I got Jesus’s back tho, man. Me and Jesus is cool. Walked right behind the bar and poured him a cold one. Now I’m banned for life, but fuck it. Fuck it all, man. Going to an VFW without money anyway is like not having tits on a bull, or whatever the fuck the rich folk say.

Speaking of titties, man, me and Beaver, we had a good ol’ time this weekend. Weheads up to The Grotto outside the Mall there for some free popcorn. Next thing you know, my asshole starts getting all twitchy and it feels like I gotta shit. So I says to Beaver, I says, “Stay here and see if you can steal wings off people’s plates.” So she stays and I go into the toilet.

And, son-of-a-bitch, right there beside, busting some shit out his ass, was Sir Elton John. Grunting and toilet farting. Doing his thing. I heard him, peoples. He was cooing to himself in there, mumbling, “…hold me closer, shiny dancer.” Man, I was in my glory, man. My shit starts pouring out my ass in excitement. I mean, I gotta bowl full of what looks like Rosie Perez melted in there.

Elton, though, he musta got some bad pizza. It was all hot and humid in there and his crap smelled like dead turkeys. Anyways, we get done and flush at the same time. So, I says, I say, “Hey, you son-of-a-bitch, you better courtesy flush. Your shit stinks, man.”

Elton, he says he likes me. He says he’s gonna sing Shiny Dancer up the arenathere. He says me and Beaver should go. Man, I said, “You got money?” So the motherfucker pulls out a twenty and hands it to me. Holy shit. Right there my life changed. I would have sucked the kids outta his nuts, man. He had me for life. So, I’m thinking,Thom Greco who? I’m on Elton’s team now.

So, I grab Beaver and we walk on over to the arena there and open up a manhole and crawl the sewers and walk right into the show. Front row. No shit. Swear on chicken wings. Man, Shiny Dancer came on and Beaver takes her titties out and starts shaking them all over like she’s going crazy. Thought I was gonna have to tackle the bitch. So, we got kicked out of there and starts fighting in the parking lot.

Man, the crossing guards are waving these orange swords around like that Skywalker guy from the E.T. movie. Beaver is saying she wants to join Elton’s band and sing Shiny Dancer. I says she sings like she’s got a fart in her throat. She gets mad and I walk over to Lowe’s. She goes the other way, dodging traffic with her jungle boobs dangling down to her knees like we’re in Zimbabwe. Man, it looked like Frogger with a set of low-hanging knockers. Man, I almost cried. I was so sad seeing my precious ex-whore leave me there like that.

Next thing you know, I wake up two days later on the sidewalk. Someone musta knocked me out. I got blood all over my San Jose Sharks Starter parka. My Beaver is nowhere in sight. The sky is full of lightning and thunder. I gets scared. Take a shit in my pants. Man, I think I’m in hell. Never seen this much lightening before. Then zap. I take a bolt right to the left ass cheek. Zapped me so hard I forgot my name. Forgot I was The Ranter.

So, I run down the street and see Beaver down at La Tolteca and she drops to herknees, telling me she loves me and she’s sorry. She’s got a sombrero on her head and looks like Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka on a weeklong crack binge. Titties still out. Her nipples are bleeding. Her breath smells like burritos and guacamole mixed with Coronas. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

She said the people down at La Tolteca forced her to drink Monster all week and wash dishes. Man, Beaver starts saying all this shit in Mexican. Like hola and cinco. “Man,” I says, “this ain’t Dora the Explorer. I ain’t speak Mexican.” Anyways, we got her outta there. We’re back under the bridge now. Things are better. Follow me on Twitter: @TheHoboRanter

Peace,

Hobo Ranter

YOU’VE BEEN DEFILED BY SCOTT STAPP (PART III): Every week,...

Thu, 28 Apr 2011 12:28:44 -0400

YOU’VE BEEN DEFILED BY SCOTT STAPP (PART III):

Every week, AthertonAve will highlight another part of Americana that our once-future Messiah, Scott Stapp, has ruined for, well, everyone.

On first glance (and 2nd/3rd/4th/etc..), one may not appreciate what’s wrong with this clip.
In truth, this is The Stapp at, probably, his career-low point (and that’s saying a lot). Something should be said for the Casino Cinema producers allowing the cameras to continue to roll (AthertonAve does not lay blame AT ALL).
There is a treasure trove of awesomeness to digest during the 4 minute clip. But, this is about defilement, after all, so in the spirit of continuity….

Ladies & Gentlemen…Scott Stapp: making you hate poker, alcohol, (rampant) substance abuse, and “his sack” (watch @ 2:20 mark).

Miss B-Haven (April 28th)

Thu, 28 Apr 2011 12:08:00 -0400

Dear Miss B-Haven,

Can you explain a problem I’m having? I think I’m only attracted to women I dont have a chance with. Even though my brain tells me not to bother, I still waste all my time with women you won’t go beyond the friendship stage. Can I change this? Help!!

Kevin (Wilkes-Barre)

Hi Kevin,

Are you wealthy? I’m going to go ahead and assume you are not as you probably would have gone “beyond” the friendship stage and tapped the ass of some fine lookin’ ladies. If a man has deep pockets (and I’m not talking about the “are you happy to see me pocket”), this is what we see:

When in reality, this is who is standing in front of us, drooling and sending $5 martini’s our way.

Women who say they don’t love for money are lying. We love the idea of not working, spending all your hard earned dollars on shoes, and drinking mimosa’s at 1:00 on a Wednesday at the Country Club pool. When a woman says she doesn’t care about those things, she knows she isn’t hot enough to attract a very rich man. So, my first tidbit advice, if you really want to a hot chick, start ordering How-To-Get-Rich-Quick videos from those infomercials. We aren’t picky on how you get rich, just do it and lavishly display your money in front of us every chance you get. I mean HELLO! Donald Trump…Hugh Hefner…THIS GUY!…they obviously figured out the secret to outkicking their coverage:

If you don’t want to work on making money, then be prepared to have your passport rejected when trying to cross the looks border. It is a sad, but true reality that there are territories when it comes to beauty mating. Here is a helpful scale, which I have color coded, find your respectable hotness and don’t go outside your territory when looking to hook up:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

1 = Bevis & Butthead Ugly
5 = Pam Beesly Jim Halpert Cute
10 = Penelope Cruz Gerard Butler Hot

Just a friendly reminder as you start rolling in the dough this chart is not applicable.

Every once in a while you will find a brave 2 trying to shack up with a drunk/pent up 8, be prepared to upset the “hotness gods”, they take this chart very seriously. If you tick them off you could accidentally end up with this, and that’s not fair for anyone!

So in conclusion, every 3 wants to bang a 9, and all 10’s are not going to give a 4 the time of day; unless you are buying her drinks at an expensive bar in her home town that she comes to visit every now and then, and most of that said town ranks a 5, or she needs a date to her 4^th cousins, nephews, brothers, fathers 3rd wedding. This is why even when you happily marry your dowdy, frumpy 5; she will smack you every time you continue to sneak a peek at the ass of an 8 when strolling through the mall. It is just the way the cookie crumbles.

Warmly Yours,

Miss. B-Haven

Please submit your questions about ANY aspect of life (work, family, relationships, money, fashion etc.) to miss.b.haven247@gmail.com

(an original cartoon from two original artists - an AthertonAve...

Thu, 28 Apr 2011 02:37:34 -0400

(an original cartoon from two original artists - an AthertonAve special weekly feature)

Tuesday’s 80s Music Video Break: Musical Youth - Pass the...

Tue, 26 Apr 2011 10:07:05 -0400

Tuesday’s 80s Music Video Break:

Musical Youth - Pass the Dutchie (1982)

Despite removing the obvious pot placement, it doesn’t take a genius to figure this one out.
That said, their rather cocky arrogance lends to the fact that they would rip you off EVERY TIME you bought from them.
And then typically throw a dance-off during their eventual arraignment.

“The Day Barabbas Won Judean Idol” He beat out...

Fri, 22 Apr 2011 12:50:05 -0400

“The Day Barabbas Won Judean Idol”

He beat out Sanjesus.

They knew not what they were doing.

ORIGINALLY POSTED TO HENRYCLAY ON FRI APR 06, 2007 AT 07:17 AM PDT.

Celebrate Good Friday in the time-honored AthertonAve way: Grab...

Fri, 22 Apr 2011 12:26:43 -0400

Celebrate Good Friday in the time-honored AthertonAve way:
Grab your roller skates and hit the park!

Miss B-Haven (April 21st)

Thu, 21 Apr 2011 14:35:00 -0400

Dear Miss B-Haven,

I am quickly approaching the age of 26…and I still live with my parents. It’s not that I don’t have a job, or the means to move out, but I just can’t motivate myself, I guess. How damaging will this become for my social and personal life if I stay put?

Thanks,
Indecisive in Dallas

Dear Indecisive,

I’m not going to lie, after first reading your question; this is the immediate picture that popped into my mind:

While funny on film, it is not so funny in real life. I have decided that if I don’t step in and save your life, you will be destined for a life of ridicule! Again, I strive on bringing you the cold, hard facts. It may hurt, but these few slaps in the face will be far less painful than a life of misery.

Let me start with this: Are you gay? (“not that there is anything wrong with that”). Because if you hope on picking up a reputable chic, scratch that thought! (If you are gay, most reputable gay men won’t put up with it either!)

I painted a scenario for my friend, I’ll call her H. Sizzle (she’s so hot she makes the boys sizzle…), an attractive professional in the dating world. Scenario - She’s had a great date with you, you invite her on a second date, after dinner you ask her, “Do you want to go back to my place and watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail”, she says, “sure”. You walk in the front door, and on the way to the man cave you introduce her to your mom, who suddenly wants to know her life history and makes sure she will treat her baby right…this are the first 3 things that pop into H. Sizzle’s mind:

How many seconds would it take me to push the old lady over and book it out of here?
Exactly how long to I have to fake small talk with Mommy Dearest?
How the hell did I get myself into this and will I make it out alive…Cue music from Silence of the Lambs…

I feel like this is a bad episode of Everybody Loves Raymond… Honestly, the first picture that came to H. Sizzle’s mind was:

If you told H. Sizzle on the first date that you still lived at home, date #2 probably wouldn’t have happened. If you tried to keep this from her, she will eventually wonder why you haven’t gone to your place yet…are you married, are you homeless, do you moonlight in drag every other night. Then she will start wondering “am I going to have to sit on one side of the couch and he the other? Is he going to sneak me up the back steps to his room because Pops is up late watching the Archie Bunker show, or is he just going to keep porking me in the back of his ’88 Cutless?” All of that is going to get old real fast! So just put it out there on date number #1, and cross your fingers she doesn’t expect much from you. In that case, I’m sure you have a winner on your hands. So, be prepared to lower your standards, because women who are willing to put up with this mental crap are obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel…

Ok, so maybe at 26 you aren’t ready to jump into the serious dating scene, and a one night stands at the Red Carpet Inn are more your style. Let’s see how this will play out over time for your guy pals. Heck, it’s damn awesome…at first. Every poker night you have someone to fill the chip bowl and make you brownies. Hey, maybe your mom will do your deadbeat friends laundry, too. However, this is all cool until the first time mom sneaks down the basement steps only to hear your friend Ant telling the exaggerated story about landing a hottie in the sack and you and the boys now need to explain what a “dirty sanchez” or “tossing the salad” means. Forget ever hanging out at the folks place again.

Finally, while I’m sure your parents have told you to stay as long as you want, don’t you think that they wake up in the morning wishing they could go down and have breakfast in their skivvies? They may be old, but they ain’t dead, (you may want to put your fingers in your ears and LA LA LA right now), that little blue pill is working wonders for your dad and you, son, are really cramping their style!

So in conclusion, unless you want this to be your weekend hobby, I suggest finding motivation FAST:

Always,

~Miss B-Haven

The Hobo Rants (April 20th)

Wed, 20 Apr 2011 11:43:00 -0400

(AthertonAve Note: Continue to read after the jump at your own risk…or personal taste)

I’m trying, man. I can’t try any harder. My ass is tired and I haven’t had more than ten dollars since I was 8. I’m about to give up on the whole thing, man. Fuck it all. Take me some pills and just close my eyes and dream of a bucket of eternal hot wings.

I need a break, peoples. I need a sign from God. Some kind of rainbow or something; maybe a windfall of free M&Ms on the side of the road. Anything, man. Maybe I should move to Plymouth, start some new shit there.

People are saying I can change the world. They’re saying I got a voice. Man, I need some support, peoples. I feel like all I got is a few hemorrhoids wedged in my asshole. Help a brother out, man. Gimme a dime. Find me a job pumping gas a few hours a week. Let me bag your old lady in the shitbox. Throw me a chicken-wing bone.

I’ve seen hell. man. I got the Devil’s phone number tattooed on my scrotum. Me and him are friends. We go swimming on Sundays. Fuck, peoples, I’m trying to make a point here. I don’t even know how to make points anymore. My points all suck. They’re all wrong. You peoples aren’t listening. I asked you to join the revolution, and you ignored me. I’m trying, man. I’m trying to be your voice.

Well, anyways, Beaver’s got the AIDs too, man. Both of us. Our blood testslight up like an Xmas tree on Valentine’s Day. Positives everywhere.
Doctors say they never seen no blood so positive with the AIDs before. Ain’t nothing working out for us, man. We’re like Freddy Mercury with his mustache right before he croaked.

We gotta wedding to go to next week behind Gonda’s. Beaver needs heels and we ain’t got a ditch to sleep in. Her sister, Patty, is marrying some transvestite from New Mexico. Man, this broad has got a cock that looks like a fire cracker—little itty-bitty thing dangling there like a little piece of shit that just don’t wanna drop.

Speaking of, if you were following my Twitter, you sons-of-bitches would know, I got bit in the ass by a shark the other day when I was taking a shit. Man, I ate me 30-some wings from OTC’s dumpster. Wings must of been there for three weeks, tasted worst than the dried loads between Paris Hilton’s ass. Man, I said it. Fuck it. Anyways, this here big ol’ shark comes outta the river, right near 8th St., and bites me right in the ass. I thought the thing was gonna go up inside me and come out my nose. I start yelling to Beaver, I says, “Holy shit, Beaver, Jaws is going up my asshole.” I done pull up my pants and didn’t even bother wiping the shit off my ass. I grabbed the Beaver and we got outta there. Man, I’m scared of those sharks, ever since I seen that movie Free Willy. Got teeth that’ll rip the nipples off a bird.

I had it, already, peoples.

Sharks in the water took the cake. The commissioner’s probably planted them in there to come get us. Probably has something to do with Hugo Selesnki. Man, how ‘bout that son-of-a-bitch? Still kicking.
Man, he’s got nuts bigger than an elephant’s toes. That’s a crazy man for you. He ain’t scared of nothin’. You can put a bag over his head and the bastard will smile. Hugo’s my boy. Man, put me in a cell with him and feed me a few meals and I’ll call it paradise.

That’s it though. I had it. I’m calling Anzalone again as soon as I get me some money for a phone call. Bastards down there won’t return any calls. Gonna probably have to give O.J. Simpson a call, get his ass to set some shit up for me. I’m about to go down back to the river and pull out the chopsticks I stole at Katana last summer and shove them up the shark’s swimhole.

Beaver though, she’s got the AIDs real bad already. Put me and her together and we got more AIDs than Magic Johnson’s toilet seat. Man, Beaver’s shitting all day long from this AIDs. Foaming at the mouth. Looks like she could star in a Thriller video. Scaring the shit outta me. We’ve been wearing old rubbers, too, that we found in The Woodlands parking lot. Don’t know how she got it. Must be the time we got so hungry we had to eat dog feces at Kirby park.

Man, I said it. I ain’t proud. Gotta do it, man. Gotta survive. Times are tough for us. Don’t judge.

I’m a lot smarter than I seem. I ain’t go far in school, but I got a Master’s degree in kick ass. I got a Ph.D. in the streets. I got me a G.E.D. in Fuck You, Motherfucker. I can’t tell you how many states are in Pennsylvania or how much you get when you subtract 50 from 50, but I can tell you the flavor of the bubble gum under every table at Abe’s, and that means a lot to some people. It sure means a lot to me.

Follow me on Twitter, peoples. I’m @TheHoboRanter

Peace,
The Hobo Ranter