The first annual Brozovich Thanksgiving was smoother than eel ejaculate in a Wendy's Frosty machine (in fact it went so smooth that we are planning on hosting 46 family, friends and a village of Sudanese refugees to dine on a 250 pound peacock for Christmas). Bird was devoured, spirits were imbibed (including one Christmas Tree flavored Jones Soda) and my fur pants and the wife's matching fur skirt were the talk of the event. Total cook time for the beast: four hours.

Labels: thanksgiving, the greens, wife

Tired of driving to and fro during past Thanksgivings, the wife and I decided to host the annual binge-eating celebration of the harvest's conclusion at our house. We are expecting over twenty people to show up and obliterate the 28 pound turkey we ordered and leave a trail of intestinal gases in their wake. Equally impressive to the girth of our fowl will be my fur pants. Yes, you read that correctly. I must be careful what I mention to the wife in passing in the future. Jokingly proclaiming that "Thanksgiving would be a lot more comfortable in fur pants" last year has motivated the wife to make me some fur pants. A picture of me adorned in my befurred trousers carving up an immense turkey will be imminent.

Labels: thanksgiving, the greens, wife

Articles like this almost make me miss my free collegiate education at the local Jesuit University dating repressed Catholic girls. Tackling the taboo topic of sex! On a college campus! Totally edgy. The article and accompanying sketches of women in "slut" panties and taking it from behind offended clergy and staff alike. I can guarantee this incident made Jesus cry. Not walking the hillside with his disciples, turning water into wine, happy go lucky Jesus, either. I am talking about tortured, crucified, crown of thorns, sword in his side Jesus. Way to go you fat, insensitive, under-sexed bitches. You made Jesus cry because you cannot stop shoveling cake into your face and think it is still a sin to use a vibrator.

Labels: religion, sex

The Writers Guild of America is only in the second day of their strike and production is now being halted on The New Adventures of Old Christine (aka "The Death of Elaine Benes"), Two and a Half Men (aka "Charlie Sheen Makes Promiscuity Unfunny") and Desperate Housewives (aka "Skag Central"). So how long do these motherfuckers have to stay on the picket line before they shut down ER? Cockroaches have a shorter life span than that show.

Labels: pop culture