Why is it that all Major League Baseball umpires are fat? This isn’t a generalization either, every single umpire in baseball is a fat bastard. Is it a prerequisite? Must you weigh over 250 lbs to become an ump?
Everything and the The Bathroom Sink
Although the four of us writers on this site are collectively all friends, my friendship with each stems independently.
I met Charles in Jr High. I was immediately drawn to his tremendous charm and unusually hairy chest. We bonded right away over our love of The Simpsons and our newfound fascination with boobs.
Luke i met in high school. Despite the uniformity of most of our school, Lucas was one of a kind. Whether i was assisting his run for Supreme Leader, or spraying him in the face with pepper spray, it was always a good time in Luke’s company. And despite some of his almost impossibly idiotic ideas, he may be the smartest and funniest person i know.
I met Brian just as we were gradating high school and becoming young adults. We bonded right away over our love of The Simpsons and our continued fascination with boobs. Nearly ten years, fourteen girlfriends, and thousands of beers later, we are still hetero-sexual life mates.
I am truly honored to be able to share my thoughts and feelings alongside these three very intelligent and entertaining human beings. I hope you all enjoy reading our stories as much as we enjoy writing them.
Party On,
Dustin
Everybody has heard of the mid-life crisis. Usually typified by a balding married man trying to cling on to his lost youth by purchasing a red convertable sports car. While I am not quite to that point just yet, I have been struggling with something similar and just as sad and pathetic. My mid mid-life crisis.
I’ve found myself in many uncomfortable situations over the course of my twenty-seven years. In Jr High, trying to hide my erection when Mrs Monson made me go up to the front of the class to multiply some fractions. Accidently calling and asking Shasta (an ex hook-up) how to get to her house when i was trying to call Shana’s house (my current fling). Damn cell phone contact list! And just generally any situation with a girl all throughout high school. But none of these compare to spending a night on cold concrete in a 10×15 ft cell with 15 scary mexicans behind bars.
I want to talk about something that’s plagued mankind for centuries, (well, decades at least). “Selling out”. One can “sell out” in many aspects but I’d like to focus mainly on music. To many music fans this is probably something you don’t think or even care much about. If most of the music you listen to is just whatever you happen to hear on the radio… one, I feel sorry for you, and two, you may not understand why this is such a big deal. What i will try to explain here is how heartbreaking and excruciating it can be when a band or artist “Sells out”.
