Book of Brian - Confessions of a crazy guy
January 30, 2012
Welcome to the ‘Happy Ending Massage Parlor’
I have a lot of really great ideas. Trouble is most of them are terrible. The ones that aren’t terrible however, are really great.
The trouble with that is, usually I will come up with a great idea while I’m driving, or pooping or something, and by the time I have a chance to write it down I’ve started thinking about boobs or I’ve seen a puffy dog or I’ve heard a weird noise in the woods and I’ve forgotten all about it.
This was not one of those times.
Here’s my idea, and by reading about it you have implicitly agreed not to steal it. It’s a massage parlor called the “Happy Ending Massage Parlor.” There would be a big neon sign, and around the sign would be pictures of half naked ladies and hearts, and X’s and O’s and other fun things like that.
The name alone ought to be enough to keep the place packed for a good long time, like forever. But then I’d hire a “Hype Man” to run around the Metro area and tell people that if you got the right masseuse, you could actually opt for a happy ending with this girl who was the hottest girl in the world, or at least in the South Metro. We’d call her “Jasmine” or “Diamond” or “Yuki” or something, and she wouldn’t actually exist, but the Hype Man would perpetrate that myth until it was saturated throughout the city.
(Side note: I know this works because when I was a kid there was a legend that these two mean bullies named “Jess and Joe” lived behind the Holiday Gas Station on Excelsior Blvd, and if they saw you at the gas station, they’d kill you, or take your bike. We were all scared to death to go there as kids, and I’m still a little leery going there now even though, to the best of my knowledge, Jess and Joe were figments of somebody’s imagination.)
Anyhow, at the same time the Hype Man was spreading the word about the magical prowess of this girl, he’d be immersing himself in the Marijuana culture (so everyplace again) that the name of the establishment carried a secret meaning. Happy Ending Massage Parlor. HEMP. He’d say you could get discount pot here if you bought a year long package of “Happy Endings” and said the magic password that nobody knew, or something similar.
Meanwhile, we’d run the business completely by the book and just let the word on the street become part of the overall folklore of the place. I think it wouldn’t matter that Jasmine didn’t exist or that weed wasn’t part of a long-term package. The overall ambiance of the place would have an illicit, Vegas-y feel to it, except it would be in boring-ass Minnesota where there is a decided dearth of illicit Vegas-y things.
People will come Ray! Oh yes, people will most definitely come! Now all I need is a wealthy dowager or lottery winner, or just somebody with money burning a hole in their pocket to be my financier, because I’m not taking any chances just in case everybody around here is a big, gay nerd.
Seriously, this is an awesome idea. Call me and give me money now.
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January 18, 2012
How ‘Boyz in the Hood’ Can Shape Our Youth
The other day I was playing some sort of derivative of football with my son, although it was inside, I was sitting on the couch fiddling around on my Ipad, and he was in his underpants. Cleverly, I named this game “Underpants Couch Football.” Basically the game is him throwing a small football as hard as he can at me and then me throwing it back while he skitters around in his underpants like Marky Mark.
Anyway, in this one instance he wouldn’t throw the ball back to me. He thought it was really clever to continuously pump fake me and then bounce around. Frustrated I yelled, “Shit, I got me enough money to buy me a hundred balls!” He looked at me funny. That’s when it occurred to me that he was 6 and had never seen “Boyz n the Hood” and so he didn’t know what I was talking about. I felt bad for him. Because “Boyz n the Hood” can teach a 6 year old all sorts of valuable lessons like:
1.) Don’t ever bring your football anywhere.
2.) If you do bring your football somewhere, and if a bunch of gang members want your football, you should give it to them, because even if you think they’re just going to keep it, the big one wearing his shirt as a hat will eventually give it back, because you know somebody would eventually knock over a 40.
3.) If you see a dead body laying in an alley that has been there a long time, don’t bother him, because he’s not bothering you. Even if it smells like a dog died
4.) If your friend gets arrested for stealing, you won’t see him again until you’re 17 and he’s Ice Cube
5.) To get a baby all you have to do is find a girl, stick your thing in her, and 9 months later a baby comes out
6.) If your mom calls you a “fat fuck”, it’s a term of endearment
7.) If you wear a football jersey all the time, USC recruiters will come to your house when you’re older, even if your house is in a horrible part of town and there are drive-by shooters (with wheelchairs and pacifiers) on your porch.
8.) If you rake up all 14 leaves in your tiny yard, it will take you until it’s dark, but then your dad will take you fishing. As long as he’s only 8 years older than you.
9.) When people try to rob your house, you will get startled and pee on your pajama bottoms
10.) We’re all from Africa. And we’re all African Booty Scratchers.
So it’s settled. Instead of Barney, or Phineas and Ferb, or any of that other drivel, Miles and I will be watching Boyz n the Hood tonight. If you have kids, you might want to get on the bandwagon and do this too, because pretty soon people will be jumping on this idea like a fat girl on a hotcake trampoline.
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January 9, 2012
How to Order a Burrito
I love burritos. Especially Chipotle Burritos. I don’t care that they’re like 8000 calories, I still eat them a lot. I eat them often enough to know about the “Chipotle Window”, the time you can go and there won’t be a massive line of people ordering people before you. That way I can get in, get out, and begin the wonderful eating process.
I’ve even learned to slow down while eating them, because I used to eat them so fast that by the time I was done my brain hadn’t figured out that my stomach was full yet, and then I’d have to sit there for 5 minutes consumed with anger because I wanted more burrito. I even emailed Chipotle and asked them to make an “El Grande” burrito that was 25% larger just for guys like me. The representative who emailed me back suggested I order a taco or two with my burrito. He was stupid!
Occasionally, due to unforeseen circumstances, I wind up missing the Chipotle Window and standing in an immense line. This always bothers me because there is always at least one person in front of me who was no idea how to order a burrito. This slows down the line considerably. The employees are relatively efficient but for the most part they speak Spanish, and what I refer to as “Burrito English”, in that they understand words like “chicken”, “black beans” and “fajita”. Anything other than that causes a huge bottleneck and makes me want to choke slam the offending patron.
I knew I was in for an maddeningly long wait when I heard this lady say this.
Lady: I want a……. um……. burrito.
Worker: Kind of meat?
Lady: Uh, what kind you got? What’s that one?
Worker: Steak.
Lady: No that one.
Worker: This one? Carnitas.
Lady: Carnitas? What’s a carnita? Never mind, what’s that one?
(Brian’s blood begins to boil)
Worker: Chicken
Lady: Oh, well I want steak.
(Dammit lady, get moving!!)
Worker: Kind of beans?
Lady: Beans?? I want some vegetables.
Worker: Fajita?
Lady: What? No I want some VE-GE-TA-BLES. And I also want some beans.
(AAAAHHHHHH!!)
Worker: Kind of salsa?
Lady: Now…. let… me…. see. Oh, are those tomatoes?
(It’s fucking salsa lady!)
Lady: And what’s that green stuff?
Worker: Guac.
Lady: What is it in English?
Worker: Guac. Guacamole.
Lady: Ooh, I want Guacamole.
Worker: Guac is 50 cent extra.
Lady: What?? Well how much is my total then.
(53 cents more than it was before, and I’m going to poop in your mouth soon!!)
Then she went to the register, left her cigarettes behind, had to go back and retrieve them, and then proceeded to pay with change, and not well organized change either. Really, she deserved a good slaughtering.
I think the lesson to be learned here is this, to paraphrase Treach from Naughty By Nature. If you ain’t never been to Chipotle, don’t ever go to Chipotle, cuz you wouldn’t understand it in Chipotle. And there might be a big headed fellow lurking nearby to kill you and eat your burrito.
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January 6, 2012
Internet Dating Scams
I was just reading some dating personals on the internet, because it seemed like a better thing to be doing than working, and I have to say it’s surprising to me that anybody ever bones anybody else meeting each other like this. Here are some of my issues.
1.) There’s too many weird acronyms in these messages for me to have much idea what this girl is all about half the time. What’s a BBW? A big-booty whitegirl? A bad ball washer? A big buffalo wing? Takes too long to figure out. You’re dumped.
2.) People sound like insecure liars. Other people (me) can see through that. A sample of things people said:
-“Curvy” = Fat
-“Pretty” = Pretty Gross looking
-“I just want to be held” = I’ve never been on a date before and I’m 30. And fat.
-“Average build”= Built like a dump truck
- “2 kids and not much drama”= A slut with an ex who still humps and beats her
-“Great Personality”= Really fat and ugly
-“Told I have a great smile”= Gingivitis
-“Done playing head games” = I will definitely let you steal my savings to buy meth, and then forgive you when you don’t call me for 3 months
-“Sassy” = Huge pain in the ass.
- “I believe in true love” = I’m an idealistic moron. And fat.
- “Easy on the eyes” = If you’re blind.
- “BBW” = This means fat, I’m just not sure how fat
3.) Some people tell you things you wouldn’t want to know even if you were married to them.
- “I need someone who’s not hairy because I got raped by a badger when I was 12 and have nightmares about fur.”
4.) The ones who have pics look absolutely atrocious. Like “Not even with a stolen penis would I get near you” atrocious. If you’re going to put pictures up why would you choose:
a.) Side of face Mugshot pic
b.) Cell phone pic of you squatting like you’re peeing in your living room
c.) Pic of you frowning while wearing too tight jeans with one leg rolled up gangsta-style
Good rule of thumb here: If you look like the cookie monster, don’t post a pic.
I was just thinking that people should hire me to make their dating profiles suck less. I’m sure I would be great at this because
a.) I’m awesome
b.) The current profiles suck, as I’ve mentioned.
To prove that I am qualified for this job I just invented, here is what my Internet Dating Profile would look like, if I was not married obviously (Luv U hunny).
“Really awesome dude with gigantic weiner seeks girl to eventually cheat on. Must be good at cleaning bathrooms, especially mine, and going away. Should hate things like roundabouts, hornets, and those sweaters with stupid flimsy necks that look like vaginas. Also anything else I might think of.
I enjoy tabby kittens, puffy clouds, long walks by the fireplace, groupie luv, throwing dirt clumps at old people, borrowing money, walking thru tall grass without pants, foods that begin with the letter “Q”, anything made of velveteen, sneaking into other’s gardens and eating their vegetables, St Patrick’s Eve, donating meth to charity, scotch eggs, cornflakes and bourbon, porno movies filmed in Chernobyl, making booger sculptures, screaming at horses to “GIDDYUP”, and female nudity.
You should enjoy all these things too. Now please send 20 dollars and a picture of yourself. Then, 1 of 3 things will happen.
1.) I will look at your picture and spontaneously barf all over it. Then I will keep your 20 dollars.
2.) I will look at your picture, shake my head, throw it in a fire, and keep your 20 dollars. But I may send you a sea monkey for trying.
3.) I will look at your picture, and invite you over. But if you want to join my gang, first you’re going to have to kill somebody. That’s the way it goes in gangs. You pick the person out, so I have plausible deniability in case you do something dumb like get caught or kill the King of England or something. If you succeed, you can come over. If you get caught, you get caught. Either way, I keep your 20 dollars.”
Pretty much, if somebody posted something like that, dates would just start falling from everywhere like a plague of locusts, except much different. So yeah, let me know if you want to take advantage of this opportunity, because pretty soon it will seem stupid to me.
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