DJ: This zombie link is amazing. I need to start taking science classes so I can amass a fortune, run a cemetery and do zombie experiments. Vast sums of money are being poured into nano-technology. Sure, at some level scientists know nano-bots will destroy mankind. They just cannot resist seeing how it happens.
Me: I am all for it. I would not mind being a zombie at all. You get to eat brains, have lots of friends and cannot die easily.
DJ: Technically you have to die once - horribly - but yeah, after that, you are gold. I am not so sure you would recognize things like 'friends' but then you probably would not care either. Of course you would not recognize things like 'house payments' and 'Yankees' and the other horrors that we confront daily.
Broz: Right.
DJ: Zombie Jeter would be pretty cool.
Broz: Totally.
DJ: Eating the brain of A-Rod and then introducing zombie A-Rod to zombie anal. Better, introducing A-Rod to anal and then to the zombie world and then to zombie anal. Mostly because I want A-Rod's last thought to be, "Zombie Jeter just put his cock in my ass, there is nothing I can do about it and it hurts like hell."
Broz: Ha! And wow. Zombie sex would be amazing. Here is why: you can do things in the zombie world that are taboo in the non-zombie world. Like rip a bitches arm off and fuck the shoulder socket. And than beat her with the arm. And than eat the arm.
DJ: Wow. I am at Caribou Coffee now and dying laughing. People are starting to look.
Broz: You are welcome.

Labels: dj, im convos, zombies

I recently learned that I have a herniated disc. I tweaked my back after a hockey game last November and have spent the last year in varying degrees of agony. Bouncing around jobs and health providers this past year has not helped the recovery process. Nor has sitting in front of the computer nine to ten hours a day designing websites. Nor has playing in three softball leagues, two hockey leagues, one kickball league and running in six road races. These past few days I have been laid up on the couch and experiencing excruciating pain when attempting to put socks on. I started physical therapy on Tuesday and have an appointment with a reputable chiropractor tomorrow afternoon. I will be taking it easy for the next few weeks whacked out of my skull on horse-grade anti-inflammatories and tall glasses of bourbon.

Labels: injury, l-i-v-i-n

In just a few short hours World Series tickets will be going on sale. I will be attempting to score seats for games three, four and/or five. Being as tickets are only being sold online, season ticket holders get first dibs and only 18,000 seats will be available to the general public per game, chances are slim that I will be drunkenly heckling Coco Crisp for being benched from the nosebleeds. I claim partial responsibility for the Rox incredible run, so I think the baby Jesus owes me the blessing of tickets to one game (at least). If no tickets are procured, I will officially renounce the Christian messiah and go the god-hating way of Perez.

Update: The risen infant Christ has forsaken me. Ticket purchasing attempts were made on a Mac via Firefox, Safari and Netscape while simultaneously rolling the office PC test computer on IE, Firefox and Netscape. All to no avail. (Shaking fist at sky and screaming, "Evolution rules!")

Labels: colorado, rox revolution, sports

I have been hard pressed to find time to post to the MB recently as work has me busier than a Wall Street coke dealer in 1988. While working for a small company is a better place for me to exist professionally, socially and creatively, it also has its drawbacks. Like accountability and less free time to surf the internet for a directory of bare celebrity crotch shots. Last week's addition of a young, fire-balling web designer to the team should alleviate the current production logjam resulting in me getting home at a reasonable hour to conjure up a semi-witty post.

Labels: apathy, career

Thanks to Frodo Baggins, I now have a new dance move to throw in my repertoire: The Puppet Master. I especially enjoy Elijah materializing to and from the netherworld of corporate sellout in the video.

Labels: pop culture, tomfoolery

A stripper's secret for success is dropping eggs. I know it turns me on when a single mother with no other skills other than her amazing rack is supporting herself and children is ovulating. I can totally sense it, too. When Destiny is most fertile I am prepared to rip off additional ones from my wad of twenty to illustrate this point. On the flip side, a stripper who is menstruating makes an average of $40 less per night. I can sense that in a dancing lady, as well. My powers of scent are that honed. I can pick up a stripper's crotch musk while she is riding the crimson wave in a room full of cigarette and cigar smoke, bourbon and Drakkar Noir. Or maybe I just caught the string of an errant feminine product hanging out the side of her panties.

Labels: strippers

• Mother of year turns tricks while her kids are in the back seat and snorts coke from the stomach of her newborn son while breast-feeding him.
• Today marks the anniversary of Tim Allen being arrested with one and half pounds of yam-yam at the airport and rolling on his longtime friend to get a life sentence reduced only to go on to make shitty situation comedies and Santa Claus related films.
• Members Only jackets for $10. I may have to pull the trigger on one of these badboys and wear it over my Queensryche Operation: Mindcrime concert shirt.

Labels: bad parents, drugs, link goodness, music

Yesterday Team Krugman called from the anniversary paradise of Palisade to inform the wife and I of a stray kitten that had been roaming the grounds of their bed and breakfast all weekend. Naturally they assumed we would take the feline as the wife gets weak in the heart at the site of kittens and is one step away from filling our crib with hundreds of cages and strays and stacks of newspapers and aluminum cans that she picked out of the garbage dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant. They claimed the kitty was hours away from going to a "farm where it will be able to roam free for the rest of it's life" so we agreed to give "it" (it being the operative word as we will not know the sex of new pussy until the vet appointment tomorrow) a new home. Kitty is thus far very chill; purring each time you walk into the room and jumping onto your lap. MJ, our cat who is three times bigger, hissed and ran to hide under the bed upon seeing the newest addition to our household. We are keeping the two of them sequestered for a week so they can get used to one another and eventually go out and kill together.

Labels: killing, kitty, wife