From the Gutters of My Mind to Your Favorite Internet Destination

Jeff here. Read this. I hope it makes you laugh. Just an average Tuesday of writing for me, haha.

Cam and Cal’s Peephole

By: Jeffrey Joseph Barbieri

            “Bro, this is like, the most ingenious idea we’ve ever had,” Cam said from his seat at the desk as Cal stood in the doorway, heavy duty drill in hand.

            “Dude, I don’t think we are s’posed to have power tools in the dorms,” Cal replied with a smirk. “Ahaha, fuck it bro, the deed is done now.”

            They had drilled as far as they could from their side first, but the thickness of the cinderblock had forced them to finish the job from the girls’ room itself.

            “Haha, how dumb do these bitches have to be, to leave their door unlocked when they go to pregame in Bobby’s room?” Cal said as he removed his black ski mask and placed the flashlight and drill down on his own desk.

            “Yeah, bra, pretty fuckin’ dumb. But they are fuckin’ hot, dude!” Cam went up for a high five with his roommate, which always segued into their secret bro handshake.

            “It was pretty dark in there, bro, I hope I drilled in the right spot, Cal said as Cam lifted the poster of two chicks making out to check their side of the hole.

            “Yeah, you can totally see all the way through, I can see their clock glowing!” Cam replied, and went up for another high five. “I CANNOT wait for these slampieces to get back, dude.”

            “DUUUDE, Abby is so hawwwwttttt, can’t wait to see them tittayyyyyss,” Cal indulged, checking out their little piece of handiwork for himself and coming away satisfied.

            The two bros chilled for a while and quickly rushed to the poster when they heard the girls giggling out in the hall. “Dude, be patient,” Cam said, “we gotta give ‘em time to settle in.” Cal checked quickly to see that light was shining through the hole, but didn’t dare a look through.

            After a bit of anxious waiting, Cal called out “TITTIES, HOOOOO!” as he leaned in to take the inaugural look through the peephole. Eye to the hole, he found himself staring intensely for a moment at a monstrous and hairy penis, most likely belonging to Bobby or his roommate, who lived on the OTHER side of Cam and Cal.

            “GAHHH!” Cal screamed in recoil, slamming the poster down on the hole as if to keep out some sort of toxic gas.

            “What is it?!” Cam demanded, anxious to see his own bit of genital glory.

            “No no no no no, DUDE, there’s a DICK in there!” Cal warned in terror. Slowly in dawned on Cam and Cal the mistake they had made.

            “You drilled on the wrong wall, you douche-burger!” Cam lashed out.

            “HEY MAN, you’re not the one who got front row seats to pube shavers in-concert!” Cal retorted, clearly frustrated by his error.

            “Man, we fucked up big time, bro,” Cam said, calming down.

            “Yeah… maybe we shouldn’t have done this while we were high.”

            “Word. “But hey, let’s make a pact to never speak of this to ANYONE,” Cam said, and they sealed it with a bro shake.

            Then came a pounding on the door. “HEY QUEERS, YOU’VE GOT SOME EXPLAINING TO DO!” The voice was Bobby’s.

            Finger-to-nose, Cal said with a smirk, “Not it.”

New Look, Same Great Taste!

Hi all, Jeff here.

So I was in the supermarket the other day when I came across this yogurt, with a claim affixed on the label that I often see these days:

 "New Look, Same Great Taste!" The label proudly proclaimed, assuring me that, thankfully, the taste of my plain yogurt would not be affected by the aesthetics of the exterior label. Frankly, I'd be more surprised if the new look DID affect the taste of my yogurt. But, in any case, this got me thinking: What if everything that had a new look, also had the same great taste? Let's test this hypothesis.

  

mmmmmmm, glad my heartburn relief still tastes so goddamn good. 

 

Thanks Castrol, and it's a good thing too. At first I was afraid that my car would demand the old flavor.

yep, those general purpose cloths sure look appetizing. 

Oh, hello Keira Knightley. wouldn't mind getting a free sample of THAT! 

In any case, before I get smacked with sexual harrasment charges, I'll assume that you get the point. Perhaps companies should just understand that we know that just because you changed your logo, doesn't mean that some wildly different product is waiting for us inside. Except for Keira Knightley. I don't think anybody knows what's really underneath that sexy packaging, not even Orlando Bloom. 

 

:O

By: Bri :D

Happy Halloween, you bums. What's everyone gonna be?

The Difference Between Brandon and I

Hi all, it's Jeff here, goin solo for this one (because that's how I roll sometimes).

Anyway, upon starting up this newfangled blog thing that Bri and I have going here, my friend Brandon called into question the legitimacy of our first post. Beyond referring to it as "some stupid shit about a kiwi", he spewed some other random insults at me, mostly related to calling my manhood into question. This got me to thinking: (the criticism of the blog that is, not the ludicrous insults to my manliness) Brandon and I are the best of friends, but we are so different. WHY? We disagree about a lot of things, even more fundamental things than whether a kiwi is a bird or fruit, or who cares about that, besides. One area where we have always disagreed is in musical taste. While our tastes intersect in a few key areas, I figure that he generally just appreciates different things in music than I do. Allow me to illustrate this to you, using one of those awesome pentagonal shaped ratio chart thingies. I've separated our musical interests into what I've determined to be 5 key categories: Instrumentals/Rhythm, Redeemable Vocals, Screaming, Facemelting Solos, and of course, Fanhood of the bands Slayer and Pantera. The chart is pictured below.

NOW things are starting to make sense to me. It is clear with only a cursory glance that the root of our differences is in what we value in music. The first thing you might notice is that Brandon likes 3 things in music almost exclusively. These 3 things being: Screaming, Facemelting Solos, and songs by Slayer and Pantera. While the ratio chart does show that he has a passing interest in Instrumentals and Rhythm, it's clear that redeemable Vocals are not at all an important part of music to him. Being a vocalist myself, I kind of take that personally, and perhaps could conclude that Brandon has some sort of universal bias against vocalists and all their pursuits. Perhaps he would like this blog more if it contained more talk of bands like the one pictured below.

Why can't he like a nice, lyrically, rhythmically balanced band like, say, for instance, Steely Dan. At the very least, they look far less threatening than.....

GAH! well, perhaps they haven't aged so well, but trust me, they are nice guys. Let's try again.

 See! There we go. Now that's a friendly, nonthreatening group of musicians whose music sounds less like a polar bear having an orgasm and more like something real people like to listen to. Which leads me into the discussion of my much more balanced ratio chart. Right away you'll notice that, while I have a vested interest in facemelting solos, I definitely do not have an off-the-charts obsession with Screaming OR Slayer and Pantera. Rather, my interests span Vocally sound, shoe-tapping music that I can listen to without being an accused Satanist.
Now, for those of you who don't know, I used to drive Brandon to school most days, and we liked to listen to music in the car. And while we found some common ground with Muse, Queens of the Stone Age and the like, Brandon often would ridicule my singing along to some of my favorite songs, (VOCALIST HATER, I TELL YOU!) just as often as I would mock him for his undying obsession with these guys:

 As opposed to something able to be taken a little more seriously, such as Beck:

 In any case, upon reading this, I'm sure Brandon will bring up one of my favorite bands, The Mars Volta. Now, not only does he constantly ridicule the lead vocals for their likeness to sirens or a girl's voice, but he also hates on the brilliant instrumentals that make them one of the transcendent Prog Rock bands of their era. Considering they get closer to screaming than anything else I listen to, and they also include facemelting solos in most of their songs, I struggle to understand why Brandon hates them! It would appear that the only logical conclusion is that he hates them because they are not, in fact, Slayer or Pantera, or perhaps because he doubts the Slayer/Pantera fanhood OF the Mars Volta band members.

In conclusion, I hope now that you see why Brandon dislikes my blog, and also why we disagree on so many things. It turns out that we just like different kinds of music because of certain elements in that music, and in the end, that's okay. I still like Brandon for who he is, even if he prefers this:

to this:

The first rule about Fight Club is that you don't blog about Fight Club

Kiwi: Fruit? or weird looking Bird?

is this a kiwi?

or is it this weird-ass looking thing?

Arguing for the Fruit will be: Bri
And in the Bird's corner: Jeff

DING DING!

Bird:
Clearly, a kiwi is that animal above that looks more like a round, fuzzy edible than a bird of any sort. And despite that self defeating logic to start off my argument, let’s review the facts. Being that both of these entities supposedly hail from New Zealand, I took a random survey of 3 NZ natives and asked them to draw a kiwi. I gave them no further guidance, and this is what they came up with:

The first man I came across actually was from Australia, but that’s close enough because, what he came up with clearly looks like that bird-thing pictured at the top of the page. Score one for the Bird!

The second person I came across was a lady of about 75, and she came up with this lovely image. While those could conceivably be the fruit, they look more like a couple of hairy meatballs, or genitalia besides. Sick New Zealanders. The lady wasn’t even nice enough to point me in the direction of the nearest Outback Steakhouse before hopping away from me like a kangaroo. She also gave me her number. How lovely. Score another for Kiwi the Bird.

Finally, I came across a stumbling drunk who scribbled this on the page. While it doesn’t resemble a bird in the slightest, It doesn’t look like any fruit I’ve seen! Also, I was directly afterward invited to a party by this man, and at the party, what did I find as the household pet but- you guessed it- A LITTLE BIRD THEY CALLED A KIWI! Inebriated man’s scribble for the sweep! BEAT THAT BRI!

Fruit:

Bri decided she wasn't going to bore you with those pesky things you might know as words, and instead chose to let her venn diagram do the talking. So here you go: 

Man, that sure is some fine artwork. The ball fuzz on the half-testicle in the middle is immaculately rendered. What this proves, I'm not sure, but we apparently now can conclude that a green testicle plus a weird bird looking thing equals half of a furry brown testicle with green insides.

So who wins? You tell us, internet.