Just Another Empty Promise…

Post by Joe

I know I made a promise to write some new posts a couple weeks ago.  A promise that I sort of maybe flaked on, considering I haven’t posted a single thing since. 

I also dropped a few hints about the details of my trip to Natural Bridge, VA.  A tale that involves dinosaurs, patriotic head-wear, and beef jerky.  A tale that I promised to tell very soon.  And that is one promise I intend to keep…

But not right now.

No.  For a variety of reasons, I will continue to delay that post.  But I have something exactly as good to share: Excuses!  The reasons I’m not giving you the post I promised.  But at least they are good reasons. 

First, the reason I haven’t been posting:  Last week I saw Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.  If you haven’t seen it, it is simultaniously mind-blowlingly racist and brain rottingly stupid, and in it’s wake, I felt I had to immediately recuse myself from writing anything, lest it dissolve into an overly long, profanity filled cluster-fuck of “But wait, it gets even worse…” tail chasing.  (we all remember the two-parted  ”The Happening” post.  There is no need for a repeat.)  Luckily, I have been able to blow off enough steam via anti-Transformers facebook status updates, (most of which were something to the effect of “Michael Bay: I want to fight you,” that I no longer feel the need to allow this site to become a dumping ground for my angry complaints.  Especially since those complaints have already been voiced, often times said better, more publically, and endlessly repeated.  I will, however, say this and only this; Michael Bay has, in my opinion, made a movie so bad that he deserves to serve actual jail time for it.

Second, why I am not posting now:  For me to properly recount the story of my trip, there are some artifacts which I really cannot put into words.  That you really must see to fully understand.  Unfortunately, my cheap-o digital camera is currently making it’s way to the other side of the planet to have its display screen replaced.  Considering the fact that the damn thing is less than 6 months old, I’m pretty psyched about that.  So until I get it back, no post.  Also SUCK IT BEST BUY!

Third, why I’m probably not going to do it soon, either:  I don’t have much time.  I am breifly back in Baltimore, and we all know what that means.  As a result, my free time is very limited.  I have also found myself running back and forth to DC several times for concerts (instead of catching the Baltimore show) because I bought the tickets before I knew I’d be in Charm City.  Last week, for example, I saw The Handsome Furs show at Black Cat (excellent, and happy anniversary you two) and tonight I am going to 9:30 to see Jack White’s other, other band, The Dead Weather.  (I’m excited, if not entirely sure what to expect, seeing as how I haven’t yet heard the album, which doesn’t come out until tomorrow… )

At any rate, I’ll try to find my way to the keyboard through the beer fueled haze that is my life in Baltimore, and start crapping out nonsense-that-nobody-reads soon.  In the mean time…

 

Check it to wreck it.

My Triumphant Return Teaser

Post by Joe

Hello Internet.  Have you missed me?  I have been away for quite a while.  Busy with things in the real world.  But don’t worry, baby.  Your the one I care about.  The one I want to be with.  The real world means nothing to me.  Not like you.  Its just…  sometimes I have needs that you can’t fill.  But you know I’ll always come back to you.

Get it?  Its like I’m a bad boyfriend or something.

Anyway, I don’t have a lot of time to write right now.  Just stopping in to say that my extended absence is nearly at an end.  And boy do I have a story to tell.  A story that involves dinosaurs, Civil War Soldiers, beef jerky, canoes, and a hat that’s more American than an eagle made of flags.

Yeah. More American than that.

Use your imagination, and I’ll be back soon to fill in the gaps.

Check it to wreck it.

Joe

Finally

Post by Dave

I left San Diego at 10am yesterday and after 5 1/2 hours I’m in AZ visiting my dad, his very cool roommate, and her big ass German Shepard. These dogs rock. I think I want one of these instead of a Malamute now.

I flashed a peace sign as I passed the San Diego county line.. and much to my shagrin re-entered it only a minute later as the freeway through the mountains curved around. Figures.

Anyway, I’ve officially turned the page and begun a new chapter of my life. It’s pretty damn sweet. I’ve got a solid plan and some damn good friends waiting for me in DE.

Beards are Gay.

Beer

Post by Dave

I’ve been on a beer tasting spree. While I have no idea how many types of beer Joe has tasted, I do realize that there is nothing but time to catch up.

What have I learned? I love beer. I love the way it tastes, I love the way it smells, and I love the way it makes me feel. I Love Beer. Plain and simple. It’s lovely. Give me Ale, give me Lager, give me Light, give me Dark, give me Beer please. Let my troubles melt away for a day and allow me to see eye to eye with my fellow man on any number of matters.

 

Beards are Gay.

It’s all good

post by Dave

Hello Potatojoy. Joe, I love this blog. It’s our outlet and it’s wonderful. Yes, I’m drunk as hell. I tend to only post on here whenI’m hammered, so it’s not only a good outlet but also a good insight into my own drunken self.

I’ll begin this with my own current pondering of who would win: Pissed off Panda Bear protecting her only young or one month starved Lion. You be the judge. I’m voting for starved Lion. At least if it has a mentally conrolled scientifically implanted laser weapon replacing it’s left eye.

Fucked up statement of the Month: As I was playing a video game with a friend “inFAMOUS” to be exact; We beat the game being completely good, so we decided to go back and be bad as hell. This means killing innocent people as much as possible and instead of having blue lightning regenerative powers, having badass red lightning damage dealing powers. Anyway, I made a comment as he ruthlessy murdered a pregnant woman, “What if you pull her unborn child out of her vagina and then rape her with it.” And he replies, not with a moment of hesitation, “What if I pull her unborn child out of her vagina, rape it, and then rape her with it.” to which, after helpless hillarious laughter I replied “well that would just be plain evil.”

My conclusion? I play too many video games, watch too much t.v., and drink too much beer. And I’m not ashamed. My imagination runs wild, completely and utterly wild, and I will never be ashamed of it.

 

Beards are gay

Coronado Brewing Co.

Post by Dave

Two of my most favorite things on the face of this planet include (but are not limited to), live music and drunk girls. Both of these need no explanation.

So how the hell has our legion of readers been? Scotchy? *nod* I’m sittin’ here drinkin’ on a few beers and browsing various websites lookin’ for a breathalyzer. My beer consumption habits have changed dramatically as of late. Not the frequency in which it is imbibed rather the type of beer ingested.

As I was casually sashaying my way through the spirits aisle of my local produce establishment I perceived a subtle difference in my environs. Could this be? Yes, it’s a side door into the beer cooler proudly proclaiming in bold and colorful letters “Come in and browse our fine selection of local brews!”

You wish for me to partake in the regional breweries of my home!? My good man, I accept. So as I type I am tasting the beautiful delicacy that has graciously presented itself to me in the form of Coronado Brewing Co’s. Red Devil Imperial Red Ale.

“Red Devil is a full bodied Red Ale with deep roasted caramel flavors, subtle hints of chocolate, an assertive hop presence and a lasting finish.”

I definitely have acertained the roasted caramel, the subtle hint of chocolate and the undeniable hops. Normally I avoid a strong hoppy beer. Being the open minded man that I am I gave it a chance and boy am I glad that I did. I am absolutely in love with this beer. When they say lasting finish they mean it. The roasted caramel is what sticks the most. It’s been a full 10 minutes since I finished my 1 pint sample and I still taste a little bit of roasted caramel on my pallet.

Beards are gay

Let the good times roll

Post by Dave

 

2 hours from New Orleans, I’m going to take guitar lessons and learn how to fence.

 

 

 

Beards are gay

flUniversity of Delaware

Post by Joe

In case you’ve been living in a cave in the Canadian Rockies the last few days, and thus not watching the news, allow me to catch you up*: Don’t panic, but Influenza A, sub-strain H1N1, commonly known as Swine Flue, will almost certainly be the end of all of humanity (which really sucks, because I had a lot of money riding  on 2004 MN4.)

*Ironically, if you have been watching the news, by now you have probably retreated to a cave in the Canadian Rockies.

Across the globe, countries, states, and local organizations are taking precautions to prevent the spread of this mysterious disease, from restricting travel, to canceling events, to needlessly slaughtering thousands of pigs.  The efforts of one organization, however, I believe deserve special mention.  That organization is my Alma Mater, the University of Delaware, which currently has 4 confirmed and 12 probable cases of the bug among the student body.

The specific group, who’s efforts I am referencing are not those of the school’s administration, which range from setting up a temporary swine flu clinic, to calling the CDC and telling them about it.  Nor am I speaking of Iron Hill, the campus-adjacent bar which preemptively closed Thursday night to ensure none of it’s employees were infected (none were) rather than risk exposing more people to the bug.  I’m not even alluding to the student founded “Swine 09,” who are currently selling t-shirts to benifit the Newark Boy’s and Girl’s Club.

No, the group I mean is the entire student body.  Why?  Well, I have on good authority that in the last week or so “Swine Flu” has become a very popular party theme around campus.  And I know what you’re saying: “Big deal.  Students at [insert school] have been throwing swine flue parties all week too. ”  That may well be the case, but I ask you, can said school also boast a 0.1%  infection rate  in the student body?  Because UD can.

My point is that tempting fate in the name of ironic humor is all well and good, but when the virus comes knocking on your door, when you are forced to accept the harsh reality of your own mortality, the game changes.  No longer is it a simple matter of tastelessness or irresponsibility.  No, it becomes a question of fortitude, of strength of character.  Simply put, when the dreaded epidemic finds you, will you have the courage needed to cram into the overcrowded, confined space of a frat house basement, and weaken your immune system by getting blind drunk?

I thought not.  For that takes a truly special individual. Some would call them heroes. 

I call them Blue Hens.

 

Check it to wreck it.

My Twitter Account: A Ledgend in the Making

Post by Joe

Now I know what you’re thinking.  You’re surprised that I have would have a twitter account.  You’re thinking I’m too cool, smart, and good looking to be a part of something so utterly “poppy” (as in pop-culture, not the flower).  And you’re right.  Or you normally would be.  So why the exception?

Well, as you may have noticed after clicking on the above link, I have had this account for over two years now.  Back when I joined, twitter wasn’t popular, or even well known.  It wasn’t used by celebrities, politicians, colleges, or companies.  It wasn’t featured in “news” stories.  No, it was just a little known site with a few followers.  Thats right, I was a twitter-er before it was cool. 

The truth is, I don’t know why I joined.  I don’t really remember even doing it.  In fact, most of the time I forget that I even have a twitter account.  But every once in a while I get an email stating that I have acquired a new follower.  I have 13 so far.

Now 13 followers is, in and of its self, nothing special.  Most people have significantly more.  What is impressive, however, is that I have acquired these 13 disciples (1 more than Jesus!) through almost no effort on my part.  I again direct you to my account.  You will notice that, in the 2+ years I have been on twitter, I have tweeted a grand total of 4 times.  Roughly once every six months.  And at a limit of 140 characters per “tweet,” that’s even less content than I have placed on this site.  And we all know how little content THAT is.

The reason I have devoted this entire post to my seldom used twitter account, other than the obvious, and quite shameless, attempt at self promotion, is this: It has become my goal to become the Tila Tequila of Twitter.  I intend to use this new medium to pluck myself from obscurity, to the heights of C-level celebrity.  Once I have accomplished this, I will parlay my new-found name recognition into a career of soft core porn and VH1 reality shows.

Now if you do the math, I have acquired 3.25 new followers for every tweet I’ve tweeted.  If the number of my followers continue to increase at that rate, I should hit the 1,000,000 follower mark in just over 307,688 more posts.  (At my bi-annual tweet rate, that’s just about 153,846 years.)  Not too bad, but I think I can do better.  By tweeting more, you ask?  NO, by tweeting less.  Not only do I want to have the most popular twitter page, I want to have the least active one.  I think I can do it.  No, I think WE can do it.  So sign up to follow me on twitter, and I promise you this:  NO NEW CONTENT!

 

Check it to wreck it

Or as I call it; Wednesday Night…

Post by Joe

Good afternoon, internet. 

It is I, comedic juggernaut and co-founder of Potato Joy; JOE.  As I am sure you are all acutely aware, I have not been very active on this page.  As I may have mentioned before, this is mostly because I HAVE been active at the bar instead.  Luckily, Dave has been filling this gap by rubbing all our faces in his financial success, oddly within the context of  hardcore homoerotic Terminator fan-fiction.

I'll be back... For your weiner!

So why not leave you in Dave’s capable, cyborg loving hands?  Why the break with tradition?  Well, I recently had an experience that I just HAD to write you about…

The night, last Wednesday night be exact, began inconspicuously enough.  I hailed a taxi to take me down to my favorite watering hole, Max’s.  The cab pulled up, driven by a friendly old man, and I got in.  This is the first time the night took a hard right to the surreal.  I wasn’t in the cab more than 2 minutes before the old man began to serenade me.  Yeah, really.  The man sang Bob Dylan and Sonny Bono songs to me most of the way to the bar, pausing only to explain to me how much he hates Starbucks.  And before you ask, no, I don’t mean he sang along to the radio.  I got the full on A Capella version.  But hey, this is Baltimore.  It’s not the first time a stranger has sang to me, and I doubt it will be the last.

So I arrive at Max’s, greet the bartenders, and take a seat at the bar next to some guy with a suitcase.  Now, in certain situations, a guy at a bar with a suitcase is hardly worth noticing.  Situations where the reason for the suitcase is instantly apparent.  These situations include, but are not limited to: Airport bars, bars near bus terminals, bars near train stations, hotel bars, and bars very near hotels.  Max’s is exactly none of these.   There are also situations where you might notice a fella sitting at a bar with a suitcase, but would likely not give it a second thought.  Situations where the reason for the suitcase is not obvious, but you can safely assume there is one.  These situations include, but are not limited to: Almost every situation not covered in the list above.

Then there those other occasions.  Times when one might first want to take in the entire scene before deciding to take a seat next to this person.  How would one recognize these scenarios?  Close attention to detail, my friend.  Details like fact that, in addition to a full sized suitcase, the person in question also has in tow the following: Two tennis rackets, a pool cue, several text books, a dozen cds and dvds, a box of wet naps, and a copy of sports illustrated.  These items may all sound harmless enough, and they are.  What I’m saying is that when a middle aged man thinks these are reasonable things to bring with you for a Wednesday night at the bar, you would do well to consider that a “red flag.” 

As it happened, the seat next to this guy was the only one available (surprise!) so I sat down.  And as anyone who has ever sat next to a crazy person at the bar knows, it doesn’t take long  for a conversation to begin.  During the course of the hour or so conversation, my new friend showed me his entire pile of cds (which included such gems as Mariah Carey, and a different Mariah Carey), offered me part of his sandwich (which I think he brought from home), explained that he is on medication that makes him “almost” piss himself on a regular basis, told me that he was in massage school, tried repeatedly to get me to go to a strip club with him.  (For those of you who haven’t been to Baltimore before, lets just say that many of the area strip clubs are a bit syphilis-y for my taste.)  All through this conversation, my buddy here proceeded to close his tab, order a drink, and then open a drink at least three times.

Believe it or not, that is NOT a full sized bike.

Anyway, after I politely declined his offer several times, he finally got the hint.  Declaring that it was “time for the masseuse to be massaged…  on my penis” he packed up and left.  No sooner had he left than I was joined by a very nice lesbian couple.  They were very friendly, and we had a nice talk.  I only mention them because, as it turns out, the night had one more crazy bone to throw me. 

As it turns out, one of them had something of a crush on Vin Diesel.  Or at least she though she did.  Now I just couldn’t let that go.  (Not because she was a lesbian so much as I can’t believe anybody has a crush on Vin Diesel.) After it was brought up that Vin Diesel is much shorter than he appears in the movies,  (according to Celebheights.com, which, by the way, is where I go for ALL of my celebrity height related information,Vin clocks in at just under 6 feet) she seemed far less enthusiastic about the Pacifier. She didn’t want to believe it, of course, but after her girlfriend and I explained that they use tricks in movies to make people look taller than normal, she started to come around.

And so that was my Wednesday night.  I was serinatted by a cab driver, invited to a strip club by a nut job, and then made friends with a couple over a Vin-Diesel’s-height  centered argument.  Why haven’t I been posting?  Because any night I stay in to type is a night I could be missing out on shit like that.  That’s why. 

Dave is only jelous beause he can’t grow a decent beard to save his life.  He is not a man.

Check it to wreck it.