D.T.S.B.

Ahhh... fellow WB's. This is a time for rejoicing. And no, the lord has not risen again to save all the christian scientists (sorry brickley), but I have fulfilled one of my lifelong goals, and almost two of my lifelong goals, all in one fell swoop. That is correct. I spent the night at the downtown Marriott, and I almost spent the night in the same room as Doug Barnbrook, and would have if he wouldn't have skirted out like a little girl who didn't like the presents at her birthday party.

A little context: I picked up a hot chick last night after sucking at bowling and also hanging out at the Knights of Columbus chapter Mishawaka. Okay, I didn't pick her up. I hit on her at the jukebox at Corby's. She then invited me and bauters to hang out with her friends angela and darren, darren being a black guy and angela being a decent looking chick who sucks donkey at pool. So, we hung out for a while and then it was time to go, but go, I did not. They wanted to walk back to said hotel, and I didn't think they should walk by themselves. So, I took Quinn home, but we didn't make it all the way there, ended up laying on our backs by that weird orange sculpture by the St. Joe River behind the Century Center and talking about how she majored in zoology in college and I majored in the second most useless topic after that: poetry. Then we ran into barnbrook and angela, who had the same idea.

Later, in the room, barnbrook put on his super-rappaport pimpness and tried to settle the score with Angela in the other bed, so Quinn and I went looking for the pool. It was locked. F that. We went back to the room to discover a big lump where two seperate people used to be. Assuming the best, I laid down on the other bed while Quinn went to change in the bathroom. Soon thereafter, Barnbrook emerged from the lump and said, I sh!t you not, "All right man, I've got to go." I gaped in slack-jawed wonder at him and angela did too and then her drunk ass passed out and then Quinn came out of the bathroom with tiny shorts on and jumped into bed with me. I tried to then pull a barnbrook, half-ass though it might have been, and she pulled me back into bed on top of her and made me promise to be good.

I wasn't.

The End.

Fat Lip

Here's a series of e-mails from today... By the way, I'm one of the kelly brothers

McMahon: "Ummmm, so what happened this weekend boys? Kelly brothers are going to need to fill in some gaps."

Ron: "Crackbaby talked sh$t to a much larger man. He was punched in the face, then BK came to his aid. BK was punched several times in the head. He escaped with a few bumps, but most of his face was left unscarred. Crackbaby has a fat lip, and I believe that BK is a bit peeved with Crack's antics. However, I also believe that BK doesn't really mind much, because he got to act all "Uncle Hank".

Brickbaby is a f*cking poser. We drank vodka, whiskey & beer yesterday as well. You're definitely the type of homo that would be seen drinking out to those horribly uncool aluminum Bud pint bottles. You parents should be completely ashamed of your greasy, Michigan taint.

And for all of your rants about religion....I'd like to point out, to our entire group here, that Chris Brickley was raised as a Christian Scientist. Yes, that's correct, he doesn't believe in medicine, or caffeine. Chris believes that all you have to do is pray, and you'll feel better. So, Crackbaby, tell your Dad that his profession is worthless, and all doctor's will soon starve, because the Brickley's and the rest of their CULT have discovered this new way to heal...you just have to ask God, and he'll fix everything. I'm willing to bet that Chris also prays that he'll win the lottery."

Crack Baby (me): "Yeah, fat lip, scraped up face, and it hurts to swallow. If you wanted any details however, I'm not going to be able to supply any. BK just came in to the conference room and showed me his finger, which looks pretty bad. He told me that the guy was crazy chelsea's (not newman, the chick that used to work at the BrewCo) boyfriend. So that's all I know.. Oh yeah, and my right a$$ cheek hurts pretty bad too, so it's entirely possible that I literally got my @$$ kicked.

You're welcome.

If anyone has any details they wish to share concerning everything after, oh, say, 12:00, they would be appreciated."

Me again, fifteen minutes later: "Okay,

here's what BK just told me. He said that we left the bar, and were walking to my car or something. Only I walked up to the wrong car, some other jetta, and my key wouldn't work. The b!tch whose car it actually is walks up and starts screaming at me, because I'm obviously trying to steal her car and she just caught me. I tell her to shut up. We're walking to the other side of lasalle, because that's where I put MY car, and on our way, we walk past chelsea and her boyfriend (who just got finished with his house arrest) and cassie. Dude says something to me about the screaming girl and her car and stuff, and I spout off something to him. We keep walking and he turns around to come after me, pushing down cassie in the process, jacks me in the face. BK pushes him off of me and got in his face, at which point Chelsea starts yelling at BK saying things like "what did you do to me??" in an apparent effort to further enrage her psychotic boyfriend, who begins to try and punch BK in the face. Fortunately, BK was raised on the mean streets of St. Louis and New Orleans, and knows that the top of your skull is very hard and a stupid place to punch someone, so he lowers his head each time a punch is about to come sailing in, and did some serious damage to the guy's hand. I'm pretty sure that, once again, all of this was started by some little b!tch who overreacted because she wanted to be dramatic. Typical.

Brickley: "Now that's good sh*t. Thats wb sh*t. Thank you, Brothers Kelly, for getting into some wild sh*t and making my day better with the story of it. I totally respect fighting - and nominate both of you for co-wb of the month. I seriously doubt any of you will do anything cooler than that in the next few weeks.

About time something of worth came over the wire. I was really getting tired of text message relationship sagas and Johns relentless blabbering about liquor and jukeboxes."

More Brickley: "It would take two elk tranquilzer darts and one of those poles with a loop on the end to baptize theese nuts.

The only "wild" thing about you b*tches is two rowdy brothers that get in street fights and bang daughters of ex-NFL linemen. And England, who once filled a bong with gasoline. The rest of you are riding on their coat tails and need to think about changing your name to "sad-young-self-centered-emotional-buddies."

Can we use profanity when Davis is on vacation?"


- See? Always thoughtful to the end. That's just how the wild buddies are... I love you guys.

well, that was fun

It's over... at least for a while. If not ever. I just want to wring out my heart like a wet fucking sponge sometimes.

Not to mention that I blacked out and hit on one of my friends' girlfriends again. God damn it. I think that there was (possibly is) some really serious shit going on in the subconcious portion of my mind. Some issues that lead me to be terribly destructive towards... well, everything. Including myself.

But I'm putting things back in order now. Seriously. Finally opened up and simultaneously ended things with Kristin. She won't let herself feel anything for me, and doesn't want to be reminded that I still care about her. At least that's what she said. I can't believe that my testimonial for her made her feel "uncomfortable." How fucked up is that? The one thing that I thought would make her smile about the whole relationship, the thing that wasn't concerned with any of our problems and just the good things... that's what makes her uncomfortable. It's incredible how quickly good things can turn bad, and vice versa.

And pen pal is out. Should never have been in.

And now George W. Bush wants to teach intelligent design in schools, right alongside evolution. Are you kidding me? Check out the Rude Pundit for details, hilarious details that he made up, but seriously guys. Why don't we also teach astrology alongside astronomy? How about scripture in American Lit.? And then, while we're at it, let's pay the teachers less and cut the budget for federally funded school lunch programs by another 15 percent? And the after-school civic engagement programs too.

What a day. Good thing I came in an hour early so I could hate work an hour more.