new on bodies track

Some (all thirteen) of you may remember a while back when we caved and actually paid for an mp3. In fact, like nine mp3s! Yes, we went ahead and purchased a full EP's worth of music.

Read about what a smart move that was right HERE.

Good news though, On Bodies is back with a new song, and promises of another EP this winter!

Put simply, this band can do no wrong. There are a couple reasons for this. Obviously the first reason is because the songs are great. The second is because the songs are generally short - it's hard to fuck up when you've only got a minute or two per song.

This new jam, Keep Calm and Carrion, continues the fast, furious hardcore with clever wordsmithery, and then tops it off with a nice little breakdown at the end.

Listen NOW, and check out this sick little HTML embed trick I just learned:

the loan officer

Jumping back to real life seriousness and our new life of home ownership, I want to talk about our experiences with the loan officer we used, Lisa Stelter Graf at RCU.

We chose her because an overwhelming majority of her reviews were overwhelmingly positive. Her financial institution, RCU, also does a majority of the loans in the Eau Claire area. That, and she got us approved at the rate we were looking for haha.

Still living in Michigan, we were working with her long distance, and it couldn't have been easier. From the quoting of rates, to getting the approval, to the paperwork, to helping facilitate the closing, she was on the ball, and there were virtually no hiccups.

Initially she seemed kind of aloof, but I soon realized that success in her industry isn't achieved by hounding and selling and hounding some more. Instead, her recipe seems to be letting her track record speak for itself, being a resource when needed, and injecting herself into the conversation only when necessary.

Upon meeting her in person, shortly before the offer on the house was made, our right choice in mortgage provider was confirmed. Since, RCU has been nothing shorty of fantastic to work with. As my review of the realtor was longer and much more in depth, our experience with Lisa was that much more streamlined, and I think that's reflected here.

Overall, the process of securing a lender and an approved application was easy. The wealth of information on the internet, while informative, can serve to confuse the typical American home buyer. The main thing you should do is take your time, read everything, take your time, and read everything.

If at any point anybody you're dealing with tells you not to worry about it or that you can read it later, you have the wrong person involved. Because at the end of the day, everybody you deal with when buying a home, or really doing anything, wants you to do it with them.

Now, whether they want to capture your business as soon as possible with less than savory intentions or they want to capture your business in a reasonable time frame with you walking away happy to recommend them to a friend is the thing. Lisa Stelter Graf is the latter.

what a nice station wagon you have

An actual writer drafted a very subtle (in his own words) tribute to the fine folks here at this website.

Take a peek right here. Click the link, read the article, vote in the poll, ROFL, and then share with your friends, plz.

Nice little write up of Ford's newest model, including a non-emasculating Euro-wagon version. Note the delicate prose used in commendation of Heck Yeah Man, Incorporated under the clever guise of an article about cars. For a website about cars.

Clever indeed.

the realtor

So we bought a house and we got a realtor. Heckyeahwoman was responsible for selecting him or her. Ultimately, she went with a him. Dave Tracy with RE/MAX if you're wondering. Yes, we're actually using real names now. Trying to give legit reviews here, folks. And speaking of reviews, he did actually get great reviews, according to my wife. So she did a great job in selecting our dude.

Anyway, yeah, we were initially confident in working with him. We soon found that he was kind of pushy about us signing the actual contract. But with the signing of the contract, and then with actually signing off on the offer sheets in that back and forth exchange, he was a little bit pushier than we thought necessary.

He's gotta eat, he's got a wife, I think he's got a kid; I get it. We could have always told him to chill the fuck out, but we wanted the house as badly as he wanted the sale. So it wound up working out.

Worth noting, he did work for us for a bit before the contract was signed, due to our moving out of state situation. His "I don't normally do this, but..." platitude didn't impress me at all. He did have a fair cancellation/contract termination policy though.

Technically, he or she is supposed to work for you more than a realtor, who is presumably working for the seller. In reality, they are working for themselves - much like anybody you will come across in the mortgage/housing industry. Also much like in life, no matter where you go, what you do, there are going to be people trying to fuck you. And not the good kind of fucking either.

To be fair, I don't feel as if our dude tried to fuck us. And I don't think he did. Maybe more of pushing to close the deal slightly at our expense - with the "at our expense" part being nothing more than cutting corners in the process. The cost of doing business, if that makes sense.

With him specializing in relocations and first-time home buyers, you'd think he'd be extra thorough or patient. Not totally the case.

Because we were moving from out of state, we did a remote closing, at our place in Michigan. Luckily Mr. Tracy was kind enough to do the final walk-through. Though he did miss a few things, like the flat screen wall mount left on the wall, as well as the empty Bose speaker wall mounts, yep, also left on the wall. Unfortunately our old-ass CRT isn't easily mountable. Also, the final cleaning wasn't what we expected.

We will definitely be there at the next final walk through, lesson learned.

When we did the inspection, a few of the outlets in the basement weren't working; the mental notes we made to have them checked out slipped our minds and we moved into the house with them still not working. Would have been nice to have him follow up on that for us. Obviously buyer beware, but still.

Having spent a good portion of my professional career in sales, not real estate, I was disappointed with the process. It could have been just that - the real estate process, or it could have been our dude's less aggressive approach, or it could have been him just getting worked by the sellers. I can't help but feel I would have negotiated better.

At the end of the day, I don't think I would use him again. That is less of a knock on him, than me thinking that we could have done it better ourselves. But we don't have our real estate licenses, so that's another thing for another time.

Now if I had friends that were dead set on acquiring a realtor or buyer's agent, I would pass on his name, with caveats. The main caveat would be: if you're a first time home buyer, sign up with him, but get much more involved and don't be afraid to tell him to chill.

Again, this was our first time buying a house and using a buyer's agent/realtor, so our inexperience obviously influenced our perception of how things went down.

Finally, for what it's worth, I have a general rule about not trusting a dude with a goatee. Kinda stupid, but he definitely had a goatee.

home ownership

After an extended absence, it looks like we are going to reignite Heck Yeah, Man here, focusing on our experiences buying and maintaining the HYM Inc. mansion/headquarters in beautiful Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

That said, I'd like to preface this by saying that I am an asshole. I know it; those who love me know it, and that will probably never change.

Until June 8, 2012, I had never actually purchased a house. Never owned a home. Never did the homeowner thing. This is all first time stuff for me. But on the plus side, I'm not a complete idiot and I like to think that I'm able to give a fair audit of my (our) experiences here.

Overall the experience was very positive - we got the house we wanted, at the price we wanted, with the mortgage rate and terms that we wanted. At times it was kind of stressful, but in the end things worked out.

Stay tuned for my review of our experiences with the realtor.

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: REAPER HARDCORE

You like angry music that yells a lot?

Start lurkin' Reaper Records then.

Fire & Ice just put out a real fucking barnburner in Not of this Earth.

Don't believe me?



WHAAAAT THE FERRRRRRK

Yeah, good luck putting this jam on full volume and not just moshing the shit out of your car on the drive to work. It's like, sometimes I wish my windows weren't so tinted so that people can see me slam dancing and finger-pointing in my ride at 7:20 am.

No kidding, two Mondays ago, I two-stepped all the way from my car in the parking lot to my cubicle.

And yeah, that included me going through the security line at the office.

Have you ever seen an asshole with a great haircut just spinkick though the metal detector at work? Well, in an office of about a thousand, many did. And many lol'd.

SMASH YOUR CROWN




I love this album.

Half an hour of upbeat, super dancey kinda hardcore, what more do you want? While a couple of the songs feature some great, non-traditionally hardcore riffs, even the more standard hardcore-styled guitar-work found on the rest of the songs manages to keep things interesting. On one of their previous releases, they incorporated a less distorted guitar and I like that they're not afraid to do things a little differently. Not sure if that was on purpose or due to recording limitations, but I would have loved to hear some of that on this new one.

But don't worry, even though these dudes are from Virginia, they sound like they could be mashing skulls in New York with the Cro-Mags.

Really the only bummer here is that sometimes the vocal patterns and lines are kind of corny, but everything is honestly just too catchy to sweat. But mega-ultra bonus points for the vocalist using the mosh call out, "SOCK IT TO ME!" in the third track, Helpless.

Def love that.

ALSO LOVE THIS:




I don't know, I've been jocking Reaper Records pretty hard lately - this might become a weekly HUMP DAY PUMP UP for a couple weeks, cause they put out some great records that I've been PUMPing pretty hard.

But what about you? You don't care about a bunch of twenty something dudes yelling at you through your speakers. That's cool. But I bet you do care about having an awesome rest of the week and I'm going to eat so much corned beef and cabbage and carrots this week HOLY CRAP I'M PUMPED!

i hate george bush

So I voted for Barack Obama

And I'm really glad I did.

heh

not drugs

I don't know, but I think it would be really fun to be around you while you are getting stoned. But literally, stoned.

Like, to death, with rocks.

Or not even to death. Just people stoning you would be sweet.

Next week, maybe we'll visit the glorious idea of you getting tore up from the floor up. Literally tore up.

From the floor up.

i just got really hungry

From the author(s) of the "WOULD*" and "PTF", comes another great maxim! Yep, we are now saying:

"Wow, I just got really hungry."

But before we get into the suggested usage, let's quickly review our (my) deep tradition of witty sayings...that continually find new and clever ways to degrade women. Note that egregiously degrading women isn't something that is encouraged and should be done sparingly (think: racist jokes).

Take a look at our previous forays into the misogyny game: WOULD, as in WOULD POUND, and PTF, as in PAY TO Fyou know - this one is sometimes even accompanied by a dollar value lol. T

But we'll keep it strictly catchphrase here, folks. Let's get it into it.

"Wow, I just got really hungry."

What does that even mean, and why would you even say that to a woman? Or your tightest bros? I mean, yeah, I say it to my wife all the time. And newsflash, I HAIN'T TALKIN' ABOUT FOOD.

I'm talkin' about butts.

NOMNOMNOM, ya smell me.

So the next time you see a good looking broad, instead of saying something stupid and unremarkable like, "heh that slut is hot", say " WOW, I JUST GOT REALLY HUNGRY."

And see where it takes you. See how impressed your friends are with your sharp commentary. Say it to your spouse and marvel as he or she becomes instantly impressed with your altiloquent appreciation.

Say it to your mom and revel in her taking it literally and immediately heading to the kitchen to whip up some delicious poached eggs and bacon.



*I can't take full credit for WOULD as I'm sure people were already saying it. But I'm going to go ahead and take partial credit for the purpose of this post. #GetHungry

a few snippets from a first date

True story, while tub(esteak)ing down the river with a couple near 'n dear friends, they all made heartfelt appeals for me to fire this junk back up. Well, except for ***, he said my writing sucks and this blog isn't very funny.

Funny how I DROWNED HIS FUCKING ASS FOR TALKING SHIT.

Anyway, I think they were right; here I am, watching The Bachelorette and putting together this COMEBACK post.

Read on if you want to read a crappy little disjointed narrative of a couple we spied on a first date.

Picture this, pussies: Heckyeahwoman and I. I and Heckyeahwoman. Out on a dinner date at some kinda sketchy Chinese restaurant. Grouponing the shit outta that place. Now picture us going to the neighborhood dive bar afterward to get a couple beers cause it's nice as shit out.

While fighting back tears while fighting back the 'rrhea, I walked my hotwife up to the bar and we ordered a pitcher of beer. "The good stuff please, a pitcher of Labatt Blue", I stammered out to the blonde bartender. Her brief, squinty look of disgust as she sized me up told me that she probably made me for a turd.

Fair enough.

Like I said, it was nice out, and the shitty patio there was calling our names.

So Heckyeahwoman led the way to a table at the end, kinda close to this couple that appeared to be on their first date. Kinda douchey looking, poorly dressed, lanky dudebro with a pretty blonde slore. Odd couple.

Not that there's anything wrong with a 25-30 year old guy shopping for clothes at Sear's, but he obviously shops for clothes at Sear's.

First thing that caught my attention was his exclamation that "this shirt is covered with cat hair!" as he brushed, uh, cat hair off his ugly maroon striped, kinda shiny shirt.

Unfortunately his date had her back to us, so we couldn't see her grimace.

After about ten minutes of me trying to talk my way into my own date's pants, an unexpected un-amorous oddity appeared in the form of really fucking greasy fingers.

Wait what?

Yeah, the waitress brought out their orders, a burger apiece. And immediately they both just went to town on them. I've never seen a couple eat burgers so hard. Def kinda got a little chub. But then the waitress came back to check on things and two (2) mouthfuls of food assured her things were fine.

But then it happened.

Duder flags down the waitress with probably the greasiest fingers and hands I have ever seen. He is waving her down with the shiniest, wettest mandibles ever. Like, it is totally plausible that before the date he soaked his hands in baby oil. For a good couple hours. Ladies and gentlemen, this man's hands were GLISTENIN'.

So yeah, anyway, he gets the attention of the waitress, and in one of the most unpimp moves ever, he tells her that his burger didn't come with any bacon, and he "really hopes he doesn't get charged for it".

WAIT, WHAT?

#SnarkyCommentsToTheServerInFrontOfYourDate

The greasy, glistening hands, the genuine fear of getting charged for the bacon that never came, the horrible outfit. It was the perfect storm of my pity for this guy.

Turns out they weren't even on a date, first or otherwise. Yeah, it was a purely platonic shitdinner between friends. How do I know this? Towards the end of the date, the dude made multiple mentions of his boyfriend.

So I guess it's not that bad; he was only an asshole in front of a friend, not like, somebody that matters.

eat shit, lil wayne

ESPN reports that Lil Wayne feels unwanted by an NBA basketball team.

Lil Wayne went to see a basketball game. Turns out, the seats he thought he was entitled to were already taken!

The nerve!

So he got butthurt and pouted to ESPN.

But for real, if I was in the seat-filling business, I wouldn't want my paying customers to have to sit next to him either.























People are starving, getting furiously slaughtered overseas, and Lil Wayne makes headlines by feeling unwanted at a basketball game.

Not only should he get flagged for the race card fail, but he apparently tried to play the celebrity card by thinking he deserves the seats that were already sold out. Already sold to someone else.

Then he went on to say that at his concerts, he deprives his loyal, paying fans of his best performances until he spots a fellow celeb in the crowd. In which case, then it's OK for him perform a little harder.

Lil Wayne is the reason people are racist.

a typical asshole

obese? pretty sure you don't even have to ask

balding, with a shaggy haircut not at all flattering to age's ever more transient follicles? obvi

driving like an asshole in the fast lane in his early-2000's red, base model, dirty Ford Escape? you know it

sleeveless tee with flabby, hairy, untanned arms uglying things up? mmm hmmmm

Jose Canseco shades that can't hide the pure domestic violence in his eyes? that's affirmative cap'n

equally dismal looking partner riding shotty? ferkin' sherkin' yeah

shitty, horrible, untrimmed, uneven goatee? HECK YEAH, MAN

#MemorialDayWeekend

i took a women's history class one time

Oh hey there, we're back after about a week or so. Been busy.

So obviously if you've made it this far, you've read the title of this particular post. And maybe you're worried that I'm about to go on a rant about how horrible feminists are. Well they are horrible. But that's not the point here.

The women's history class was pretty lol though. You knew the "professor" was gonna be a fat lesbian waste of life. Note that the waste of life part comes from her morbid obesity and horrible "opinions", not the lesbian preferences.

Obviously the class was a joke, and in between the man-bashing, we watched a few oddball movies like The Majestic. Not sure how that movie fits in a women's history class, but it held the "professor" back from man-bashing for a couple days.

But here's a funny little story about one of the "projects" we were assigned.

We each had to bring in a song to play for the class and talk about how it relates to women. I don't really remember much else about the assignment - just the song that I chose to play.

Surely you are aware that Strung Out is one of my favorite bands, and they had conveniently just released a new record - that might as well have been glued in my cd player.

So it was natural that I would pick a Strung Out song to bring in.

And I sure did.

The song is called Razor Sex. How's that for a song title to share with a bunch of feminazi psychos?!

Here, listen to this tight little jam RIGHT MEOW:



When it came time to share, you know the "professor" wanted to put the only two dudes in the class on the spot. Her scowl found me first as she asked (told) me if I brought a song in; I answered affirmatively, and walked my CD up to the late 90's style CD boombox, popped it in, and announced the band name and the title of the song.

"The band is Strung Out, a punk band from California; the song is called Razor Sex."

The one other dude in the class immediately yelled out something about "those dudes are still around? Awesome!"

His stoned enthusiasm was cut short by an audible grimace from the "professor" as she repeated the title of the song angrily.

However, that frown slowly turned upside down as I explained that the song is about how men use and abuse women for licentious ends, like sex. FYI - it's really not about that. But that didn't stop me from going on for a roughly thirty seconds about how wrong it is for men to, well, basically exist.

Somehow I got an A in that class, though that could have been due to me VOLUNTEERING AT A DOMESTIC ABUSE SHELTER for the community service portion of a project in that class.

resigned

To striving for just good enough, because the marginal amount of satisfaction or pleasure that can be found in "great" just isn't worth the time or the goddamn effort.

To a job you hate, because you have no idea where to even start to change that.

To working overtime, because yeah, you could use the extra money, and fun and life and family and living can wait till next weekend. Or next month.

To never saying no, because honestly, it's just easier to say yes, and do it.

To doing something you don't want to do for the next 50 years, because it never occurred to you that you don't have to.

To having done something you didn't want to do for the last 30 years, because it just went by so fast.

To having no idea that you've already given up, because life has beaten you down so many times.

Sometimes, I have just the most fleeting flashes of these feelings. And worse, they've gotten more frequent and intense as I've gotten older.

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: SOFTBALL

OK, this may be kind of pathetic, but ever since I became a working professional, I've always wanted to play in a work softball league.

And now thanks to Citibank, my dream is a reality! All you fucks out there that are blaming big banks for the housing crisis, what about the little people like me, that are playing on big-bank sponsored softball teams?

What about us?!?!?!

Well get PUMPED because your boi is the MVP of the league! Hitting, fielding, base running, making the pouty face from second base, WE DO IT ALL. Shoot, they even got me doing a little first base coaching.

Whatevs.

We had our first doubleheader of the season last Thursday, and despite losing the first game 18-5, the night was a resounding success! Also, fuck you, I accounted for at least 50% of the team's offense, in both games lol, including an inside the park home run in the first.

Thanks throwing errors!

Anyway, I was slapping softballs like mouthy wives and this song was PUMPING in my head, PUMPING ME UP.




From my first at bat in the first game to my last at bat in the second game, it was PURE FUN and PURE PUMP.

Everybody was having a blast, nobody was pissed, people were smilin' and laughin' and my PUMP was at an all time high. The frigid temperatures, the tight muscles, the near strains, pulls, and tears, nah, none of that could hold us back.

Especially in the second game.

Yeah, we had the lead through the first five innings, then of course the other team jumps up by three in the bottom of the sixth. So there we are, top of the seventh, last inning, down by three. At least I get to bat third!

Before I know it, there I am sliding across home, bringing us to within one.

Next up, my homeboy ****, crazy dude, good sized, always a smile on his face, he's gotta do something.

CRACK!

The line drive sails into right, over the deep shortstop, in the hole between right and right-center. He's a bigger dude so he's trucking around the bases, and oh shit, yeah, he just touched third and he's going for it - ohhhhh!!! HERE COMES THE THROW!!!

Oh shit, right to the catcher, perfect throw, **** is close and he knows it. So he dives.

And winds up at a dead stop, belly on the ground, about three feet from home plate.

OUT - GAME OVER!

WOW, THE DRAMA, THE PUMP!

So close, so much fun.

Can't wait for tomorrow night's game! Also can't wait to listen to the sweet song immediately below!




STAY PUMPED, TWINKS

kkk at work

Yeah, we're back after an extended break!

Let's ease back into this blog-business with a nice little story about workplace race relations, shall we?

I hope you've heard of the game/time waster knows as MFK. Of maybe you know it as marry, ferk, kill. Or maybe as bed, dead, wed.

Never heard of it? Take a guess how you play.

OK, name three people to a friend, and he or she has to choose one to marry, one to ferk, and one to kill. Pretty easy right? If you can put together three good names, you can get some interesting answers out of the group.

So, a couple rounds deep at lunch a couple weeks ago, homeboy's eyes widen as he spots a trifecta of perfect subjects for the next round of MFK. For my next round of MFK.

Bear in mind, instead of each of the three full-worded options, we instead utter the individual letters: M, F, or K. You know, to avoid being overheard at work talking about actively murdering or boning somebody. Tryin' to avoid that HR ish.

Anyway, Following dude's wide-eyed gaze, I turned around and what did I spy but three morbidly obese, troll-women waddling around the cafeteria. Before I even had a chance to think about what I was saying, I confidently spit it out:

K(ill)

K(ill)

K(ill)

And that was before I remembered the next lunch table over was packed with about 7 African American lunch-goers.

Happy ending though, nobody outside our table heard my little MFK indiscretion.

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: EL CREEPO!

The other day, I happened upon a band called El Creepo!. Yes, the exclamation point is part of the band's name.

For the most part we've got acoustic rock, with a few peppy jams mixed in. But the vocals, almost whispered at times, combined with the fucked up lyrics, give it kind of a subtle unsettling vibe. Whatever that means.





Love the part about the Jonestown holiday lol.

Check out this little uptempo acoustic jam featuring super PUMPY synths bouncing around. And considering we're in April, you gotta get PUMPED about super PUMPY synths.




In other PUMP news, we have two (2) of our friends coming into town on Thursday night. They are tentatively planning on staying until Monday, but I'm not sure they'll last that long lol. See the kicker is, it'll be the two of them, both female, Heckyeahwoman, and ME.

All in one tiny ass little house, with one bathroom. Truly pity she who uses the turlet after me.

But whatevs, we're gettin' ready for their impending arrival.

Shower cameras mounted.

Creep-mode dialed in.

Full-on cleaning almost completed.

Ladies, we are ready for you! And we're super PUMPED for this weekend!

that's just the way it works out

That's just the way it works out?

What? Fuck that. Are you kidding me?

That's just the way it works out.

Think about what that means for a second.

Out for brunch yesterday, we had a free Groupon or LivingSocial or something. Basically the brunch and unlimited mimosas were both free; if you ordered a side of bacon or something, you paid for that.

Pretty simple, right? Everything was great, even the $3 side of bacon that we ordered. A couple mimosas each, a smoked trout omelet, and a beef hash dish thing, life is good.

Then came the bill.

We were both initially perplexed when the $3 side of bacon came to a total of $7.63. Upon further inspection, the total of what we ordered, including the six $7 mimosas was taxed. That's cool, whatevs. But here's the kicker.

That total came to $7.20. The extra $.43 came from taxing the $7.20 again.

No kidding, they taxed us twice!

But that's STILL not the kicker!

I asked the waitress about it, at Heckyeahwoman's prompting, not sure if it was just a mistake or what. I even prefaced my question with, "I hate to be a dick about forty three cents, but..."

Her response?

"Yeah, that's just the way it works out."

I got so pissed off that I reflexively scribbled a big fat zero on the gratuity portion while uttering probably a little too loudly, "fuck that". Seriously felt that anger literally boil up inside of me, like on the cusp of breaking out in a sweat. Imagine if I'd have been like nine mimosas (instead of three) into my day.

The forty three cents doesn't matter; I don't care about that. I hated the answer, and that's not even an answer. That's a blow off. That's an insult. That's a smarmy "you just got taxed twice and I don't think you're going to do anything about the pathetic reply I just gave you".

civil rights 2012

The civil rights battle still rages on in 2012. Here, it has apparently entrenched itself in a classroom at Florida Atlantic University.



When I was in college, why couldn't something awesome like that happen?

not really anything funny

Since the holidays I've dropped probably about ten pounds. Maybe a little more. Either way, I'm right around 185. Funny, cause my goal weight was 200, and instead I wound up losing poundage and getting further away. Now I'm just trying to get fit, lean, and RIPPED AS FUCK, YOU PUSSIES.

Had a little hiccup with a minor injury, if you could even call it that. Yeah, got a little case of retrocalcaneal bursitis. Retro-what?

Basically where my achilles attaches to the bone in my foot, that spot is inflamed, right at my heel. The tendon is kind of tight, and kind of tight means tight enough for the bursa sack to get pissed/inflamed. After about a month of limping around, I finally went to the doctor, and he told me to just ice it. And to chill out on working out for a bit. Riiiiiight.

It was starting to feel better, but then I went to see Andrew WK in late March, got up front, and jumped around, and it got super sore.

Luckily I found Heckyeahwoman's moon-boot looking foot-immobilizer thing. Wore that for a week, iced furiously, and we're feeling all kinds of better. Just need to have this ish healed up for the work softball season.

Basically for the last two weeks, I've been working out at home - a combination of yoga and body weight exercises. My brother pushed me to step up my pushup game, and I did, to the tune of banging out 80 pushups in a row, on the reg.

No biggie.

90, then 100, maybe by end of April.

One routine I came up with, and am really enjoying at home is what I'm calling calling 38's or maybe THE THIRTY EIGHT. Anyway do this in a row, no rest between each of the four moves (1 set), rest a minute, then do it again and again till you're at four sets. Do some more exercises, then do two more. Then do some more exercises.

5 pullups
15 pushups
10 body weight squats
8 hanging ab raises

Spit gets my heart rate a-PUMPin'.

the dumping station

Real quick little story here about one of our fondest house-hunting memories that is sure to be something we'll be able to tell our kids, and even our grandchildren.

See, this is our first serious search for a house. So much of the stuff we're seeing is new to us.

So real quick, we were checking out the basement, partly finished, huge, even with a full bath down there!

We happened upon an area towards the back of the basement, that appeared to be a mini room, but it was concrete, and only about chest-high. There appeared to be a door. And by door, I mean a curtain, blocking the entrance.

Opening up the curtain, we noticed a TOILET and a SINK.

That's it.

Heckyeahwoman and I shared an audible chuckle, audible enough for the realtor to hear us and make his way over. The three of us gazed in splendor at the toilet. Finally, waiting for Heckyeahwoman to make her way onto the rest of the glorious basement, the realtor shared his two cents:

"Yeah, that's the dumping station."

It gets better; on the other side there of the toilet, there was another same-sized chest-high room. Only this one housed a shower. Totally an army barrack, prison style full bath in the basement. And here, full bath means super sketch dumping station and concrete shower.

I loved it; Heckyeahwoman hated it. And just like in real life, hate trumps love, so we're not getting that house.

:(

dicked around

let's make this short and to the point: the bank we currently bank with is currently making it super hard for us to give them more of our money.

it's true, chase bank is playing hard to get in this mortgage game we got here. we bank with them, i have a healthy bank account, my wife is about to be a college professor, we both have good credit, but for some reason they won't give us the time of day.

this dude flat out refused to even entertain the idea of my wife and i buying a house with chase. after finally talking to him for a minute, we made an appointment and he blew it off.

this was of course after i submitted three (3) online requests for contact. two (2) weeks after i submitted my initial request lol. this was of course after i called the local chase branch to see if homeboy was alive. this was of course after he ignored the message the manager of the local branch supposedly left for him. this was of course after i left him a voicemail.

you might think this is pretty crazy, but this actually happened. some pud who works on commission is turning down a prime prospect. i was in sales at one time and selling current customers was the best thing ever. like i always say, never trust a guy with a goatee.

if you're a mortgage lender with chase, and you're reading this, get at me.

media player meltdown

if windows media player doesn't stop fucking around with me, i'm going to smash this fucking computer and skype it to the goddamn internets.

i don't even know what the fuck happened. one day media player was working fine, the next day it only plays one song, then pauses. the problem is that my entire music library no longer automatically feeds into the playlist, and plays continuously.

now when i play a song, that one song goes into the playlist, it plays, and that's it. what the fuck.

i recently synced my ipod to this computer, and i think somehow that fucked up the operation.

yep, somehow apple manages to fuck things up even when i'm not even using apple programs.

what a waste of an hour and a half last goddamn night, trying to fix this shit.

i am so glad that steve jobs is dead.

like it never even happened

Here's another one out of millions of my posts that begin with "the other day at the gym".

Yep, the other day at the gym I was busting out some mean-ass cardiovascular body-hating annihilation, when on the TV comes a commercial for a company I was unfamiliar with.

I've heard of SERVPRO, just had no idea what they do. After seeing that short little spot, I now know they are in the business of making empty promises.





Watch this clip and tell me if you're smellin' what I'm cookin'. Go ahead, it's only 16 short seconds. You could make love to your woman, smoke a cig, and crack a cold one in that time.

OK, since I know you didn't watch, SERVPRO is in the damage cleanup and restoration business. Yeah, they come in and clean up after a fire or flood in your home.

But at the end of the video, their little tagline is "Like it never even happened."

UUUHHHHHH brutal house fire killing little Timmy's entire family! Like it never even happened!

Thanks SERVPRO! Like it never even happened!

I can understand how they can clean a house thoroughly after a flood or fire, but I'm having trouble trying to wrap my head around their patented Dead Family Member Recreation Technology.

HDPU: THE PUMP THAT KEEPS ON PUMPING

Not looking to beat a dead horse here with all the Andrew WK nut-riding, but it was awesome, and I'm still PUMPED from Saturday night.

I hope you're still kinda PUMPED at least.

You know I ain't going to see Andrew WK and not grabbing a sick tour shirt. YOU KNOW THIS.

So I got that one. And a shot glass with his iconic bloody nosed mug.
















Check out this great vid of Andrew WK playing I Get Wet from the show on Saturday night. SOOOOOO PUMPED




heh homeboy took a stagediver to the dome





















Oh, and remember how I mentioned I wasn't going to beat a dead horse? Well, on my way to work on Monday morning, I saw a dead possum, totally dead, untouched, in the middle of the road. And on my way home, my way in on Tuesday, and on my way home again, I noticed it was getting more and more run over.

Not sure how that relates to the HUMP DAY PUMP UP, but I thought of it when I typed the dead horse thing.

GET PUMPED

andrew wk show review

Andrew WK
St Andrew's Hall
Detroit, MI
March 24, 2012

Andrew WK sparked up his I Get Wet ten year anniversary tour this spring, and while I missed out on the pre-order, I didn't miss out when the tickets hit the general public. At $20 a pop, Heckyeahwoman snagged those bad boys as furiously as possible. That's the good news.

The bad news was that I had to wait about two months for the actual show.

So was it worth it? The wait? The $20 tickets?

HECK YEAH, MAN

The venue, St Andrew's Hall, was formerly a church, and you can kind of tell - like if a church had the pews gutted, a couple bars installed, a downstairs basement venue (set of the concert scenes from the movie 8 Mile), and that familiar stink of piss, booze, and sweat.

First opener, Aleister X came out with a British accent and black guitar, all veiled in a boxing robe, hood up. Faint background music and beats would come and go as he would perform what could vaguely be construed as songs. In what was possibly the worst live performance I've ever seen, Aleister X literally rapped, howled, and sang, while reefing on his guitar with simple power chords and simple palm muted power chords. One of his last songs, something about night time, or dark side, or something, was really the only thing he played that wasn't horrible.

Maybe he had really poor sound - his guitar, vocals, and background music just didn't mix well at all. Maybe he is horrible, but by the time the ante-penultimate song rolled around, you could barely hear him over the booing.

Car-crash cliche, had to look, couldn't turn away, so we watched the whole set.

Next up was Math the Band. Sadly, we missed about half the set, as we were downstairs in the less crowded basement venue enjoying some drinks. Our descent up the stairs to see them treated us to the SUPER PUMPED sounds of what I would describe as pop-punk-synth-bouncy-PUMP-rock.

Pop-punky, furiously strummed electric guitar with really fast, super-bouncy synth notes, energetic vocals, and what looked like one floor tom all played by a male-female duo. Dude on the guitar and most vocals, shawtie on the synth, drum, and some vocals.

Very energetic, a great opener for Mr. WK.

About half an hour later, the stage darkened and BOOM, a wall of musicians appeared, with Andrew WK right in the middle! The crowd went apeshit as the band went right into It's Time to Party; I threw my concert tee around Heckyeahwoman's neck and ran up front.

The show consisted of the band playing I Get Wet in it's entirety, in order, front to back. And it was spot on - the track listing is definitely ordered for maximum partying. The only reprieves were a little bit of banter to introduce a few of the songs. Most notable was him changing the words from I Love New York City to I Love Motor City.

While his music isn't known for virtuosic musicianship, it was great to see him play his keyboard, and carry a few notes during a few of the slower songs and brief interludes. But when he whipped out his pizza-slice-shaped guitar to play a pretty bad guitar solo transitioning into She is Beautiful, it was kinda awkward. But then he tore into the catchy little intro and everything was right in the world again.

About 6 or 7 song later, just like that, it was time for the encore. Clearly I Get Wet sapped the crowd of most of their energy; the couple songs he played from his second album, The Wolf, while kinda familiar, and good in their own right, don't compare with PARTY vibe of I Get Wet. He closed out the set with a new tune, and a jam maybe from Close Calls With Brick Walls.

There are very few headliners that could make up for the shittiness of experiencing Aleister X; Andrew WK is one of them. 10/10 performance, would definitely go again.

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: ANDREW WK

SATURDAY NIGHT

I AM GOING TO SEE ANDREW WK

ARE YOU?



So far in my life, I had one chance to see Andrew WK, and I blew it. Hellfest 2004, he played like last, and I was with my future wife. Why I didn't stick around, I'll never know. But I didn't, and that has haunted me for years.

But we stuck around the next night for the riots, beatings, and bleachers getting torn down lol.

GET ON MY PUMP LEVEL




Don't just get on my PUMP LEVEL, get on my PUSHUP LEVEL. I got word that my brother did 76 pushups in a minute. This was of course after he caught word that I did 65 straight. So yesterday I did 80 straight in a minute twenty.

And because we know it ain't real if you can't duplicate it in the lab, I did it again today. #SciencePUMP!

You wanna know what fueled that PUMP-FILLED PUSHUP EXTRAVAGANZA!?!?!?

Yeah, this song, right below.

SKIP THE CRAPPY PIANO INTRO AND GET SUPER PUMPED WHEN I GET WET STARTS. THE OPENING KEYBOARD GETS ME WET.

LIKE FOR REAL.




GET READY FOR AN IN-DEPTH CONCERT REPORT ON MONDAY. OR MAYBE NOT.

But till then, stay PUMPED because Andrew WK doesn't care about being tired, he doesn't care about being bummed about your job, he doesn't give a shit if you have a little cold or flu, he doesn't wanna hear about your feelings.

He wants you to be PUMPED all day, every day. ERRY DAY. Next time you feel that frown turning upside down, then turning upside down again, think to yourself: what would Andrew WK do?

He'd turn that frown upside down one last time, so it's back to an upside down frown. Smell me.

weekend wrap up

Sorry, we took a short absence. I'm sure all eight of you were pretty bummed. Anyway, we're back with a weekend wrap up. Heckyeahwoman is out town and your boi here is left to his own devices. Devices - whiskey and working out, most of the time.

Lucky for us, and me, that means wrapping up work on Friday right at five, not a second later, and heading to the gym. Ultimately, the pinnacle of my Friday night was watching Rise of the Plane of the Apes. It was action packed, and most importantly, my two hours weren't for naught, as I found the ending to be completely satisfactory.

Fast forward to 8:24am Saturday morning and yeah, that's my alarm going off. Headed into work for four hours, then hit Target to find a decent green shirt for the evening's festivies.

And festivities they were. Of course my friends and I refrained from indulging in serious licentiousness, opting instead just for the standard get drunk on St. Patty's day thing.

All in all, a good time.

Sunday at around 11:30 am had me getting up, kinda hungover, but still ready to face the day. And the day's activities would prove to be humorous.

Had to run some errands, and while I was out, I decided I would pick up a shoe horn. A shoe horn, remember those? I need one for this sick new pair of wingtips I finally bought.

Anyway, do you know how hard it is to find a goddamn shoe horn? I went to DSW, the shoe warehouse place, and the crazy Asian lady working there didn't quite have me convinced that she actually knew what a shoehorn was. This of course was after her telling me they didn't have any. For sale.

A goddamn shoe store not carrying shoe horns.

Luckily, there was a Famous Footwear just two stores down! Oh my luck!

And predictably, they didn't sell shoe horns either.

BUT!

But, the lady working was kind enough to give me one of their cheap ones that the staff uses! I now have a Famous Footwear-branded mini-shoe horn! Oh the joy! It gets better! I still had to hit the Krog for some grocery shopping.

Turns out the Krog was pretty uneventful, save for me almost dying from the hangover.

And then things got good. Good and Samaritan-y.

Sitting in my car, waiting for the green arrow, I see a dude to my left get out and walk around his car. Oop, there's my arrow, gotta go! With my path home taking me right past said dude, I slowed down and asked if he need a jump or a push or something.

He confirmed with a worried look on his face.

I went to park across the street and ran out to help him push his car. And then all of a sudden, as I'm pushing, another dude comes out of nowhere and starts pushing. We got the car into the Chase Bank parking lot; I turned to my left to thank the random dude for helping, and he was gone.

Skinny-car-pusher-ghost-apparition-dude just up and disappeared. No idea from where he came or to where he went. Then it got kinda strange.

I offered him a jump (I always have cables, thanks Dad!), and he accepted. Told him we could either push his car to where my car is, or I could just go drive up next to his haha. Not sure if that was too off-putting for him, but after I turned and took a couple steps toward my car, he declined the offer.

And like that, we shook hands and parted ways.

Good, cause I had to get home to do some clean ups!

Wait, what? Clean ups?

Heck yeah, CLEAN UPS ARE WHAT YOU DO WHEN YOU'RE DOING YOUR SUNDAY CLEANING AND YOU START THROWING IN SICK SETS OF PULL UP OR PUSH UPS!

HECK YEAH CLEANIN' AND UPPIN', CLEAN UPPIN'

on bodies - planet hospice

A couple months ago, I happened upon a song by a new band called On Bodies. Naturally, the first thing mentioned about the band were all the ex-members of other bands: Culture, Terror, Blood Has Been Shed, As Friends Rust, Morning Again, Shai Hulud, and Where Fear and Weapons Meet(!), among others.

So what does that mean? It means great 90's-style fast hardcore, short songs, and Damien Moyal's immediately recognizable vocals.

The album opener, Long Short Life, kicks things off with Moyal yelling, "C'mon and tell me how to live, how to rise up and change the world!" While neither Moyal or On Bodies will ever come close to changing the world, they ultimately recognize this, and are probably happy knowing they just put out a fantastic EP.

Great way to begin the festivities as most of the nine roughly minute to two minute long songs either tell a story of how life keeps getting the best of Mr. Moyal, or serve as a short commentary on the general purposelessness of life.

Third song, Get Real, slows things down a bit as a few simple notes ring out, slowly building as a few sentences are repeated for about a minute twenty. Powerful lyrics and vocals combine with powerful music, making this probably my favorite cut on the album.

It's pretty hard not to identify with the lyrics and the sentiments On Bodies shares with us. Themes of just not cutting it and fucking up, finding a place in this world, and resigning oneself to life maybe not being much more than a slow death, while certainly not novel, are still things we've all probably thought about.

It absolutely doesn't hurt that he cuts these sentiments into super-catchy, digestible sing along-ready bites that furiously induce me yelling along in my car. Or at my wife. It's also nice to see him sprinkle the all the jaded with a few bits of hopeful.

Songs like I Just Can't Win and Better, but Never Good show signs of wanting to do better, to be better, but ultimately life beats him down. Hey man, it's the thought that counts.

Fittingly, the album ends perfectly with Planet Hospice; the music transitions into a breakdown with Moyal yelling, "You can't deny the fact you and I are checked into planet hospice. We are more dying than living, more taking than giving."

Worth noting is that this is the first mp3 I've ever paid for. Yep, I paid just over $8 for 13 minutes of music haha.

Buy this album if you're a fan of great, bitter hardcore with PLENTY of opportunities for dogpiles and scream alongs. Buy this album if you're a 30 year old hardcore fan looking to maybe come out of stagediving retirement the next time On Bodies swings through your town.

Listen to it HERE

Buy it HERE or HERE

oh hi

Hi three people! Hope you had a great weekend!

Check back tomorrow for a very un-indepth discussion of the band On Bodies, and their new(ish) album (EP), "Planet Hospice". Or maybe we'll talk about something else, who knows.

What is an On Bodies? What is a Planet Hospice?

IT'S THIS.

Had a nice little weekend, saw a movie called AMERICAN MEAT (all caps is all me). And holy shit, we're watching the movie Contagion right now and one of the opening scenes shows the ferry to Kowloon, and we were on that ferry! And I felt (sea)sick (as ferk). Maybe Contagion is about me!

Movie time!

haha what?

Oh God, we were watching The Bachelor the other day, and a commercial happened.

A chocolate commercial.

Go ahead and watch this thirty second spot and see if you can catch what caught my attention. See if you can smell what I smelled.





Any guesses?

Try at about twenty one seconds in.

"...lusciously smooth center begins to melt. And so will you."

WAIT WHAT?

YOU WILL START TO MELT?

One minute you've just stuffed 5 truffles down your gullet, the next minute you're melting. That sucks, bro.

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: UR NOT THEM

We got a quick little POWERPUMP here for you today. Totally had something else planned for today (circa Tuesday night), but on my little trek into "the mall", I found PUMPSPIRATION somewhere I didn't plan on finding it.

Kind of like how Rhianna found love in a hopeless place, I found THE PUMP in a PUMPLESS place.




No but seriously, there I was, on my slow, arrogant walk into "the mall", and way up ahead are a couple morbidly obese "women". Walking slower than shit, they allowed me to catch up just when I could open the door for them.

Chalk that up to the precise laziness tactics perfected by the morbidly obese American woman.

Don't worry, there is a PUMP here.

It was funny though, walking right behind them, I could hear not just their vapid chatter about who knows what, but also the heavy breathing that accompanied each strained syllable that they could muster. I wouldn't quite call it English, instead a sad new dialect, littered furiously with desperate breaths.

With each word uttered, a frantic gasp for air book-ended each incomplete thoughts. In their mangled language, word, breath, word, breath, word, breath is the convoluted formula for verbalizing ideas.

My first thought was wow, what a couple WORTHLESS FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT.

But then I became immediately thankful that I was not them. That I know it's NOT OK to be them. And just like that, a satisfied smile spread across my face.

The PUMP fired from my neurons and spread through my entire body. Dopamine, no, COCAINE-FIRE-METH was coursing through my veins.

And you know what else, that new Every Time I Die album is out today! Every Time I Die? What is an Every Time I Die?

THIS



And if you're not sufficiently PUMPED, take solace knowing that there is a band out there called BLASTANUS.

BLASTWHAT?

PUMPANUS?

BLASTPUMP?

NO, BLASTANUS!