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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Guest Post!

Back before North Korea had nukes and Britney Spears was all showing her va-jay-jay all over the place, back when men were men and women were women and families knew what was right and we weren't concerned with pussy things like global warming and E. Coli, Brandon Rogers (this Brandon Rogers, the one who also writes here, not this one or this one) wrote a pretty fantastic blog that I would read with a stalker-esque tenacity. But then he stopped writing it because he:

* Hates freedom
* Makes Baby Jesus cry
* Wants the terrorists to know that they've truly won
* Is determined to 'waste my flava'
* Had "better" things to do

Now he just posts on other people's blogs and luckily I got a slice of the Brando pie. Eat up.


By: Brandon Rogers

Couch and I go waaay back, and she is still the only girl to ever call me from France AND get me drunk VIA U.S. mail (SWOON).

She also probably writes the most underrated comedy blog on the net, but you know, it's not like being an overrated blog gets you anything other than a reason to investigate your state's restraining order provisions.

Couch and I are both writers, and I can finally say that without laughing, because seriously, we are like so published, with our names and everything, and we occasionally send each other work, presumably so that we can make fun of the same editors.

Couch reminds me of a time in my life when there were only two certainties: either you join in the singing of Devil Went Down to Georgia or you get your ass beat down.

Unfortunately, when we met via the internet, we were both involved in other relationships, otherwise I'm sure we would be fighting over custody of some obscure south american bush mammal that neither of us really cares for. So instead, I'll tell an awkward story about the son I had in the meantime, because you know, it's not like people can just wait around indefinitely without reproducing because their planets have yet to align. If only there had been fewer planets in 2002. Sigh.

But first, here are some writing prompts that I DIDN'T pursue when Couch allowed me to guest post:

  • I'm still trying to figure out a way to use my atari joystick to my laptop as a mouse, not because of it's functionality, but because the purchase of our 2600 coincided with the change in my opinion of women's breasts from food source to reason for shameful silence and 'alone time.'
  • The internet isn’t slow. You’re just really fast.
  • I find I have less tolerance than I should for my neighbor blaming Calvin Klein for her esteem and body issues. I miss the days when we could blame the Soviet Union or our parents or thalidimide for our shortcomings.
  • That's when he said, 'Do you know why the right nostril is usually larger than the left? Because a man's right hand is usually larger than the left.' Some dots you leave unconnected.
And a snippet from the last email I sent her:

"They said they liked my last article which tells me one thing: THEY DON'T READ SUBMISSIONS. Seriously, I'm putting in some sort of obvious code. Like the first word from each sentence in the first paragraph will read 'COLLEGE DAYS ARE SMOOTH LIKE THE PEARLS DRIPPING ON MY WHORE'S NECK DAMN MONEY SHOT WORD.'"

And now, here's the rest of my story:


It was a dark and hoary night, and my son was full of query and a recent fruit loop dinner. He asked, 'How long can a person hold his breath?' And I said, 'Until he passes out.' And he asked, 'But won't you die?' and I thought maybe he asked this because of the inherent fear of abandonment that runs in my family, but then I caught his meaning and laughed, because condescension is a good way of convincing children you know the answer. So he asked more specifically, 'What is the longest someone has held his breath IN HISTORY?' and I turned on the computer because the Internet is a likewise good way of convincing children you know the answer, and I said, '8 minutes and 58 seconds,' and so he said, 'Time me!' and I half-heartedly looked at the oven clock which read 4:58 and said 'GO' and when he finally exhaled blue in the face he said, 'How long was that?' and I looked at the oven clock which read 4:58, and said, 'Three minutes.'

So he decided to show off his new superpower at school the next day and after 10 consecutive demonstrations of SUPER BREATH HOLD he hyperventilated himself into full-blown panic mode and the school nurse called my mother-in-law whose only English phrase thus far is 'PLEASE TO RUB CORN OIL ON MY HAMHOCKS' or something to that effect.

I found the situation much more amusing than my wife, who chastised me for my parental shortcomings:


Please, I said. There's only one PLAYER, and that's the Top New Singles Artist of 1978 immortalized by their insta-classic 'Baby Come Back,' with Ronn Moss on bass, he of Ridge Forrester fame on t
he CBS soap EMPIRE The Bold and the Beautiful.


At 2:41 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

seriously, if you had the following street contest based on this photo: WHICH ONE OF THESE MEN WILL GO ON TO STAR IN A SOAP OPERA AND WHICH TWO WILL BECOME EXTRAS IN CONAN THE BARBARIAN? how many people out of ten do you think would guess the right answer? 8? 9?

I'm thinking 10.

At 9:33 PM, Anonymous Jeff said...

...and I always wondered why I had a fondness for the blocky graphics and irritating sounds of the 2600. It never occured to me that it was the sweet reminder of the blossoming of my manhood.

Thanks for the guest post - it's a real relief to read real writer's writing

At 4:06 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Am now thinking that Brandon's mission in this new after-life is to shine his light on interesting people. (At least I'm hoping so, since I'm up for it too) Whatever his reasoning - the giddy exchange of words or alcohol - I now have a new place to come read. Danka.

At 10:50 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

You guys were crushing on each other? wow, think of the super babies you could have made! ;)

At 12:53 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

may I bow and say damn funny...

At 12:31 AM, Anonymous groovebunny said...

I missed your writing like crazy Brandon. Hooray for guest entries!

At 7:58 AM, Anonymous scott said...

Hey, look. It's Brandon. I remember Brandon.

Funny post.

Hello, Brandon.

At 9:43 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

My head just exploded from the awesomeness of this.

At 9:28 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Don't the mustaches kind of give it away?

I've missed you, ducky.

At 9:29 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Don't the mustaches kind of give it away?

I've missed you, ducky.

At 9:34 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Don't the mustaches kind of give it away?

I've missed you, ducky.

At 9:38 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

fucking Blogger.

(hateful grumblingss)

At 1:18 AM, Blogger r said...

I am absolutely sure the middle one now has a cabin in a Utah mountain and has been stalking me on Match.com


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