www.mattbrozovich.com

Fuckin' Jake Jabs

2008-03-31T23:29:00.006-06:00

Tonight on our drive down to south Denver for a floor hockey game, the Ghost of War smashed into an errant sofa on I-25 at about 75 mph (the sofa conveniently lay on the highway less than three hundred feet from Furniture Row). I am guessing that a new sofa purchaser, unskilled in the art of twine and furniture hauling, dropped that big bastard on the road upon merging and failed to look in their rear view mirror to notice that their load was lost. The sofa lay in the far right lane as we sped along in the far left lane. An eighteen wheeler barreled through said sofa and sent it careening across the highway. The Ghost of War happened it be directly in its wake. I swerved enough to deflect the brunt of the blow, but the old girl still got tagged pretty good. The damage included the passenger side mirror being shattered into oblivion, a large dent on the passenger side door and the passenger side headlight being bashed to pieces (click here for some hot Flickr action). Being as the Ghost of War still gets 35 miles to the gallon and is paid for, I am running her for at least another 100K. I plan on hitting the Yota Yard at lunch tomorrow for some replacement parts as it is close to the office and located directly across the street from the Walnut Room (which makes a mean meatball sandwich). May the parts be with me, indeed.

Team Husson Is Now Official

2008-03-30T16:33:00.004-06:00

Long time friends of the MB, Mark and Sara, ruined their lives over the weekend. It was a lovely affair that went down at Red Rocks Amphitheatre and included Apache Wedding blessings, drinking and revelry, an R2D2 cake and a slideshow of two fine-looking youngsters in love. I understand your reasoning for putting us at the Smashing Pumpkins table, Mark, but were we at least considered for The Clash table? I must know. Congratulations (again) from the wife and I. Enjoy England/Scotland/Ireland. Also, something for you to consider.

Colorado Link Goodness

2008-03-25T08:57:00.004-06:00

Alamosa, Colorado. Home of the Great Sand Dunes, a college where slightly above average suburban high school athletes go to die and now, free salmonella!
McDonalds sack 1, Brandon Marshall 0. Brandon Marshall joins the esteemed list of other Denver professional athletes who obtained an injury under strange circumstances (read: getting caught in a lie). Congratulations Brandon! You will now be held in the same esteem as Clint Barmes breaking his collarbone while carrying deer meat (read: being flipped off of a four wheeler) and Brian Griese tripping over his dog, falling down the stairs and spraining his ankle (read: taking a tumble while sloppy drunk). Look on the bright side: almost losing an arm is a better thing to be remembered for than talking about practice.
Mirror gets thrown from Colorado University dorm room window. Hijinks ensue.

I Know My Dick

2008-03-20T17:35:00.008-06:00

A response to the five things I supposedly do not know about my penis:

My dick does not make chicks fat. While I make no argument that nature gave women the raw deal with the subsequent carrying and birthing of children (and "fucking with their metabolism") I am certain that my dick was not the catalyst for your weight gain. Perhaps its the fact that your children (the ones you probably nagged your husband for because your biological clock was in overdrive) keep you too busy to work out for five hours in a week. Or maybe its because you have not adjusted your diet and are eating like you are still pregnant. Or maybe its because when women get older their metabolism naturally slows down. Or maybe you are just lazy and in need of an excuse for looking like a whale.
It does smells bad when it is not clean. Going down on a guy after he played in a pick-up basketball game and his cash and prizes were a tad gamey, eh? I am really sorry about that. I am guessing it is akin to going down on a woman two days after she is off her period. I mean, you could have stopped sucking it, right? Maybe asked him to take a shower? But no, you just kept going at it. Thanks for confirming that you are, indeed, a dirty cocksucker.
It does want to go in your butt without permission. First and foremost, my penis is not a gentleman. He is a scandalous, immoral, evil piece of shit that is usually the root of my problems. While I do not always agree with those decisions (read: my ex-girlfriend), we tend to compromise and present a unified front. I am with him on this one. We are not going to ask for sodomy approval because the answer is invariably going to be no (unless you drank enough wine). Most women outside of pornography do not ask for anal sex, so it is always better for me (and my penis) to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.
It does not mind a helping hand. Within reason. As an owner of a penis for over thirty years, I can assure you I have learned how to handle my junk. I also learned to steer clear of greedy bitches like you who cannot go one minute in or out of the bedroom without wanting to be pleased. While rubbing your moose knuckle is a good move (and one which I am glad to perform), it is also only doable from a few positions (none of which I am guessing you are into). So instead of complaining about it, maybe you should acknowledge the fact that you are clitoral rather than vaginal with your orgasms and ask for stimulation before or (gasp!) after I release the hounds.
It does stay hard with a condom on, but it sucks. I will wear a viking hat and a wet suit if it means I am getting in there, but condoms kill all sensation (try making out with someone while wearing a trash bag over your head to get an idea). Still, I have common sense. I would definitely not de-rubber with a self-proclaimed dick professional such as yourself.

P.S. Peen? Really? Are you writing in your girlfriend's junior high yearbook or something?

An Unholy Alliance

2008-03-18T14:47:00.004-06:00

A recipe for Guinness ice cream. Before that tattooed freak Jake turned the wife and I on to Guinness Floats (two scoops of vanilla ice cream and one pint of Guinness Stout) at the Exchange Tavern one hazy evening, I would have cringed at the thought of a Guinness-based ice cream. Now all I have to say is, "Fuck yes."

Dead Whores, Revisited

2008-03-17T11:47:00.003-06:00

DJ: The Elliot Spitzer prostitute flow chart.
Me: See, now this is why I hate society. I mean, who cares if he buys a whore? Aside from killing her I am cool with it. Even then, it is circumstances such as these that killing a hooker seems acceptable.
DJ: So basically you just want a class of disposable people?
Me: Have you ever been inside a Wal-Mart Super Center on a weekend? I would say we are already there.
DJ: Nice.

Link Goodness

2008-03-13T10:34:00.004-06:00

The comics deal that put Mile High Comics and Charles Rozanski on the map.
The 20 biggest record company screw-ups of all time. Number one? The killing of Napster. Also ridiculous yet notable; the selling of Motown for peanuts, letting Bob Dylan go for a thousand bucks and the Guns N' Roses Chinese Democracy debacle.
An image gallery of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue covers from 1964-2008.

Link Goodness

2008-03-11T17:39:00.005-06:00

George Clooney is a bitch. All the deviants on my Thursday night ice hockey team judged me a few weeks ago for not having seen Two Girls And 1 Cup. So I gave into peer pressure and watched the scat sickness unfold before me. I am convinced the two girls were eating chocolate soft serve ice cream and not engaging in actual corpophilia. I need footage of the poop in question being shat into the cup, not the cup going off camera and than magically re-entering the frame filled with poop. Who are you judging now, Thursday night ice hockey team?
In California, science dorks are getting their panties in a twist over the first substantiated wolverine sighting since the 1920s. Yee-haw! It is a large, ferocious weasel!
Erotic Falconry is a great idea with poor execution (Read: birds of prey Photshopped into pictures of hot chicks). I was expecting topless shots of hot chicks with falconers gloves and assorted raptors affixed to them. I guess my standards are just too high. You disappoint me yet again, internet.

Save Swayze

2008-03-05T23:50:00.004-07:00

I was saddened to learn today that Patrick Swayze has pancreatic cancer and may not have much time left. Damn. Some of my favorite films include the be-mulleted Mr. Swayze. Whether he was waging a guerrilla war versus the Soviets in Red Dawn, kicking some drunk redneck ass in Road House, robbing banks and surfing the edge in Point Break or pulling Baby out of her corner in Dirty Dancing, Patrick Swayze taught a generation American boys how to be men. So, in order to honor his struggle to beat cancer, I have created some Save Swayze gear. Fuck you, Patrick Swayze's pancreatic cancer.

Update: Upon the creation of my Save Swayze gear, Cafe Press immediately flagged and took down the shop items due to a violation of their content usage policy. My infraction of Cafe Press's content usage policy makes even more sense after viewing nearly 30,000 Barack Obama illustrative likeness designs. In short, Cafe Press sucks.

The First Burning Man

2008-03-04T16:09:00.003-07:00

Moses was tripping balls? That explains the whole wandering in the desert, Egyptian army is chasing us, parting the Red Sea, Burning Bush, Mount Sinai/Ten Commandments and Golden Calf business. That right there describes a fairly strong yet garden variety acid trip. Granted, the Exodus story is not as twisted and psychedelic as Fantasia what with the dancing elephants and hippos, but it definitely ranks up there.

Link Goodness

2008-03-03T17:36:00.008-07:00

The man who quipped "The name is Dalton..." after his set/bar fight at the Double Deuce is no more. Godspeed, Mr. Healey. I thought you would be bigger.
Bacon cups. I may have the wife whip me up some bacon cups so I can pack them full of bacon bits and have a heart attack upon consumption.
A photo essay about Uncle Dirty (NSFW). Uncle Dirty has a hog, friends. Enjoy the thong photo (near the bottom) which displays Uncle Dirty's skid marks. You are welcome.

Link Goodness

2008-02-26T23:27:00.001-07:00

Click here to see the reason why I am hooked on A&E's Intervention (pun intended). Naked meth whore's journals are eerily reminiscent of a former coworker of mine who was rumored to be on the pipe. She used to sketch magical spirals and write "NO" repeatedly in her notebooks during board meetings.
Michael Jackson may be losing the Happy Pedophile Ranch due to some back taxes.
The Colorado Avalanche made some big moves before the trading deadline netting them Peter Forsberg, Adam Foote and Ruslan Salei. In other 1999 news, American Beauty wins the Oscar for Best Picture and folks are starting to get serious about this Y2K thing.

I Dominate Body Building

2008-02-24T22:31:00.004-07:00

You may recall my web alter egos Matt Brozovich, drummer for Pittsburgh's speed metal outfit Scorn Of Earth and Matt Brozovich, the little league fireballer hailing from Channahon, Illinois. Today I learned that I have yet another web alter ego, Matt Brozovich, the competitive body builder with alarming hair and an even more alarming physique. While I advised my youngest doppelgaenger coming up through the baseball ranks to stay off the junk, sadly, I think my newest doppelgaenger has a penchant for injecting himself with steroids and assorted testosterones from the animal kingdom. Regardless, I wish bodybuilding Matt Brozovich nothing but success with the weights and the competing. The time may be nigh to start the Matt Brozovich Internet Society.

Enter Lesbian Turkish Oil Wrestling

2008-02-19T13:17:00.005-07:00

There is nothing I can say about Lesbian Turkish Oil Wrestling except its arrival to the scene was long overdue. Jake, Gay Joe and myself discovered the national Turkish all-male sport back in the Data Slaughterhouse days which yielded many discussions and one inappropriate IM buddy icon that Joey rocked for two solid years thanks to a useless human resource department and a devil may care attitude. I am proud that the Turkish Oil Wrestling organization finally acknowledged the Women's Movement and decided to let oiled-up dykes grapple with each other in the Turkish tradition. It looks like Daddy just found a new show to record on the HD DVR.

Celebrity Boobtatsic Link Goodness

2008-02-18T16:46:00.006-07:00

Kate Beckinsale. Meow. I have been a fan ever since she started fighting werewolves and vampires in a tight, black jumpsuit and bustier.
Lindsay Lohan. Doing the Marilyn thing (NSFW). Whatever. Everyone has seen her cash and prizes (NSFW) before, so getting an unobstructed view of her bare chest is not all that exciting. Regardless, the pictures are tastefully done and my maleness caused me to pause and acknowledge her befreckled fun bags. It is still too difficult to tell if the carpet matches the drapes due to her clean, close shave.
Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman. It is a strange moment when Natalie Portman becomes the grenade in any scenario, but she is standing next to Scarlett Johansson's tits. Those things are like attractive friend Kryptonite; their glory weakens any hotness within their immediate vicinity.

Link Goodness

2008-02-13T17:57:00.004-07:00

Tips on managing Millennials (or as I like to call them "The Participation Ribbon Generation"). Not willing to make routine sacrifices, cannot handle criticism well and take things too seriously, you say? I am guessing it had something to do with an entire generation being raised with a sense of entitlement, hyper-sensitivity and not being allowed to fail. Guess we should have kept score at their Little League games after all.
The perfect Valentine's Day gift: Afghani War Rugs! Now available in the new, delicious 9/11 Flavor!
Roger Clemens throws his wife under the bus to protect what is left of his sterling professional baseball reputation. Well played, Mr. I Did Not Use HGH But My Bitch Wife Did.

Bikini For Sport

2008-02-12T18:23:00.003-07:00

The always timeless Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue hits newsstands this week and SI has posted a complimentary web directory so comprehensive that it nullifies the need for a printed magazine. The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue is responsible for me spending the better half of my formidable years tacking Kathy Ireland covers to my wall, enduring repeated viewings of Necessary Roughness and making Pee-Chee folder collages with shots of Elle McPherson and her snorkeling equipment. Back then, you could not find a sport associated with bikinis so it was nigh impossible to justify a pubescent grocery store checkout line purchase to your mother. But than this happened. And it is good.

Bacon Related Link Goodness

2008-02-04T23:09:00.000-07:00

The unholy recipe experiments of Bacon Cereal and a Bacon Cheese Baconburger. Hijinks and artery clogging ensue.
Canned bacon. For those that are too lazy to fry swine in a skillet.
Comedian Jim Gaffigan on Bacon.
Wikipedia for Francis Bacon.

No Longer Waiting On The MRI

2008-02-03T23:44:00.000-07:00

After two months of waiting/suffering, I finally got in to see the neurosurgeon to go over my MRI results. Why did it take two months, you ask? Welcome to the magical land of Kaiser Health Insurance. I was lucky that the technicians did not start throwing silverware and change near the magnetic field to see if something would stick during the scan. While the three weeks after my MRI in early December were brutal (my pain was easily a 9 out of 10), the beginning of January saw my body healing itself naturally. I was no longer popping anti-inflammatories like candy and I could actually get off the couch to participate in physical activities without being leveled for days afterwards. The neurosurgeon was a genial older woman with years of experience dealing with crippling injuries and miserable people. When going over my results, she said, "Wow. You do not do anything half way, do you?" She then called in another neurosurgeon to concur that my irritable L5 was one of the worst bulged discs she had ever seen. Luckily my back will require no surgery or painkillers going forward as my body has the super healing capabilities of Wolverine.

Caged Heat

2008-01-25T18:31:00.000-07:00

Gay Joe: Conjugal Harmony, Matty.
Me: Awesome. BrandiY is hot.
Gay Joe: I liked Fisty.
Me: Yeah. Good name. Did you check out Chopper? Her convictions are drug trafficking, murder, plus some small stuff.
Gay Joe: Ha! I would totally date a prison chick. Finally, I would get me a real man.
Me: Those girls are more man than me, Joey.
Gay Joe: These are the kinds of gals that could win a fight in a back alley while eight months pregnant. Gotta respect that.
Me: Totally. Plus they would not care about getting their fetus cut out of their uterus as long as they won.
Gay Joe: Yup.
Me: I love these convictions: I kill a man what who raped me but DNA said he didn't so it was murder or Two counts premedicated murder on my sister kids I used to wash.
Gay Joe: Premedicated murder? Used to wash? That is awesome.
Me: Wait ... I found the best one. Look at Chesty Heavens' convictions: I beat up this bitch cop with my bare knuckles and she died so I'm done for life. Lets chat!
Gay Joe: Wow. That IS super.
Me: She is a special lady.

Back In The Saddle

2008-01-25T02:03:00.000-07:00

Now that the bulged disc is mostly healed, the sciatic nerve is growing less annoying by the day and my stupid injury is tolerating two league nights of ice hockey again, the wife and I decided to get back on the fitness train. For Xmas we bought ourselves a treadmill and are looking into a bench and dumbbell set (I am hoping some recently divorced father of three will be unloading a joint cheap on Craigslist because he is moving into a crappy one bedroom apartment due to crushing monthly alimony and child support payments). These fitness items all fit nicely into our unfinished basement. My goal is to be back in pristine condition for the 2008 Runnin' Of The Green in the middle of March (Runnin' Of The Green is a 7K road race through downtown Denver which features free beer and corned beef upon crossing the finish line. The Irish finally got something right).

On Monday we started a high-fiber, high-vitamin cleansing that has shaved four pounds off my middle and has seen feces flying from my ass faster than a midget being fired from a cannon (I tallied a lifetime record ten bowel movements today that were both refreshing and enjoyable). We finish said cleansing this Saturday when I will start eating solid food again in lieu of fitness shakes and health bars.

Insane In The Brain

2008-01-16T23:37:00.000-07:00

There are degrees of physical attractiveness in this world. While Jessica Biel is "Girl Next Door" hot and Diane Lane is "Cougar" hot, this specimen is the classic example of "Fucked Up" hot. Cute yet embattled face, rock hard abs, horrible tattoos and a penchant for living on the wrong side of the law. Did daddy not hug you enough, fucked-up hot girl? Or did he hug you too much? Does the weed and the booze numb you enough to emotionally handle collecting all the dollar bills from the stage at the end of your dance? Do your three illegitimate children live with your mom or are they being raised by television in a trailer park somewhere? The world may never know what drives you, fucked-up hot girl, but we will keep trying to learn through future arrests and tribal yin-yang tattoos.

Wil, We Hardly Knew Ye

2008-01-14T23:20:00.001-07:00

Saturday saw the send off for my buddy Wil who is walking the Earth for the next six months to a year. He will return home whenever his money or his transsexual hooker sugar daddy connections dry up (literally). We procured a limo for his last evening in the city and took a dive bar tour of Denver in style. Some highlights:

The limo was compliments of one of my work clients who hooked us up with an amazing deal. He gave us a two week old Mercedes Benz limo for the night and stocked it with complimentary beer, gin, whiskey and champagne. The whip was so new that the stereo could only play CDs as the sound system was like the Death Star in Return Of The Jedi and not yet fully operational. We only brought one CD between the seven of us. Said CD was a shitty local techno band and ended up being fired from the limo window by night's end.
At My Brother's Bar, they have bacon listed as a menu item.
Number of individuals in our group that ordered bacon: 2.
Number of individuals that asked the waitress to "Look away" as he attempted to pick up and eat a strip of bacon that fell of the floor: 1.
The Hilltop, my favorite college-era haunt, did not fail to disappoint (except for the omission of "Ballad Of The Green Berets" from the jukebox which was the traditional way to close all drinking benders back in the day). While walking into the bar a guy came out yelling "Who needs some blow? Some meth? Some X?" While sitting at the bar some troll-looking kid was attempting to start a fight with the a gentleman three times his size. The bartender encouraged smoking after asking if we were cops and than proceeded to light up and "fuck the anti-smoking laws."
Changing the name of a strip club from Cheerleaders to The Player's Club does not make your joint instantly classier. You still have to wash the vomit and sweaty ass from the carpet.
Number of individuals in our group that had their wife pick them up from The Player's Club: 1.
Number of individuals in our group that lost an electronic device sometime during the night: 2.
Number of individuals in our group that were called by the limo company with the whereabouts of their lost electronic device: 1.

Be sure to rubber up in the jungle, Wil. Once you establish your white warlord presence in Belize, we will be down to slaughter cattle with machetes in front of the locals as a lesson not to cross you. In short, be safe and enjoy your adventures.

HD DVR Me ASAP

2008-01-07T22:43:00.000-07:00

On Saturday morning, I dragged the wife out of bed, bought her a coffee and took her along with me on a magical voyage to Comcast. Our mission? To trade in our old cable box for some hot HD DVR action. It is true that I may not love our unborn children as much as I love this box of wires and wonder. We just got finished watching the first two episodes of American Gladiators and high definition shots of sweaty beatings, homoeroticism, exuberant machismo and water-soaked camel toe never looked so good

Oregon: Epilogue

2008-01-01T23:07:00.001-07:00

Highlights from the Eugene/Coastal Oregon family vacation (click here for some hot Flickr action):

Number of relatives houses we crashed at that had wireless internet but not cable television: 1.
A movie that is not fun for the entire family: I Am Legend.
A movie that is not good in any way, shape or form: The Man From Earth.
Times the phrase "I slept like the baby Jesus" was uttered: 4.
How many trips were made to Autzen Stadium to procure gifts: 4.
How many trips made to Autzen Stadium were to take back items bought by hasty husbands who purchased items with no thought of sizes/people in mind: 2.
Times the assumed identity "Grayson Buttdorf" was used to sign into the Oregon Coastal Parks and Recreation gray whale watching sheet: 1.
How many variations of the assumed identity "Grayson Buttdorf" were mulled over numerous Alaskan Ales and one annoyed 18 year-old misquoted cousin: 5.
Beer, in ounces, that was consumed on the front deck of a the Heceta Head Lighthouse bed and breakfast in one evening: 184.
A roaring ocean, a good buzz, a comfortable bed and a warm room gave me the best night of sleep in recent memory.
A short, slanted ceiling, high-backed bathtub and hand-held shower head gave me the most uncomfortable bathing experience in recent memory.
How many gravely-voiced suspected serial killers ate with us during our "seven-course breakfast": 1.
Lastly, props to my brother-in-law drove who our rented mini-van like Al Cowlings across Northwest Oregon in order to get us to our flight at PDX with minutes to spare.