2.25.2015

Now You Can Eat Russell Wilson's Balls

I know, I know: FINALLY. We've all waited for this day since that dreamy 5'10 touchdown machine breezed into Seattle with his squeaky clean Jesus shtick and the most annoying insurance commercials since the GEICO cavemen. 





Side note: who is the sadder individual, the person who said the Lowe's robot assistant was his new best friend, or the person furiously typing questions to the "Ask Russell" app to get canned responses like some weird insurance shilling version of Cleverbot?

The '90s Were a Weird TIme

2.24.2015

Go Go P-...holy shit.

Did you watch Power Rangers as a kid? I did. It was one of those shows that I'd watch even though it wasn't all that great, just to prolong the Saturday morning sugar rush.

And now Power Rangers grew up.


2.11.2015

Props to This Social Media Manager

"You can fuck in our elevators" must've been a tough pitch to sell to the folks at Thompson Hotels.


2.10.2015

Rejected Titles for Your Autobiography

After an extensive round of focus group testing, we've narrowed it down to this list for you to pick from:


  1. Whole Lotta Blood
  2. 33 Years a White Guy
  3. My Only Notable Achievement is Having Read all the Dune Books, Even the Shitty Ones Frank Hebert's Kid Wrote
  4. Not Enough Meat in the Meat Locker
  5. Just Keep Spraying Axe Deodorant and Everything Will Work Out
  6. You Can Be Addicted to Anything if You Try
  7. Lice! Lice! Lice!
  8. ...And the Spots Never Did Wash Out
  9. I Don't Think You Understand Just How Much Ass I'm Willing to Eat
  10. One Woman's 57-year Quest to Oversexualise The Flintstones


2.07.2015

Cathy CK

Unnecessary confession: I used to read the Cathy comic strip religiously. 

Not because I liked it, or even understood it really. It started out of necessity, as I would voraciously read every single comic strip in the morning paper while I shoveled cereal into my face before school, and since it was technically reading my parents would rarely tell me to stop.

2.06.2015

Eczema is no Laughing Matter

I write and perform sketch comedy for a group called Princess. We play small, sweaty shows under hot lights in tiny black boxes around Seattle and it's seriously the most fun thing in the world. Goofing around with my pals and making people laugh is a huge reason I'm able to put up with the other bullshit in my life like having to hold down a job to pay for giant inflatable cheeseburger props.

Princess had a gig the other night playing a quick 10 minute set with some other sketch groups who are pals of ours. It was a rainy night (IN SEATTLE?!) but a surprising number of people braved the weather to come sit in the basement of a bar and laugh at us. The audience voted us their favorite (although I suspect one of Glen's pals may have influenced the voting a bit) and everyone had a great time. 

Well, almost everyone.

2.05.2015

Advice to Young People

I was asked to write down some advice to give to young people. The motif was something about "new year, new beginnings," and not a graduation speech where you'd sort of assume this sort of thing would go over. I sort of blew it off until the editor called me and screamed at me that it's February now and the article is worthless.

"Joke's on you," I laughed into the phone, "I already cashed the check!" But he pointed out that they had not in fact sent a check. Eventually I pieced together that I had agreed to write the whole thing for exposure, and that I had accidentally cashed one of those transfer checks your credit card company sends you and was now $30,000 in debt to Discover.

It is in that spirt that I now share with you my wisdom for the young people of 2015, be they graduates or not:

2.04.2015

I Met God and It Wasn't All That Great

I met God the other day. I’m not trying to brag or anything, but it happened. I was waiting for the bus and all of a sudden I was somewhere else. Somewhere white. It was like one of those really fancy car commercials where the car is just sitting there in a white room, and you can’t even see the walls or anything it just goes forever. I was in one of those car commercial rooms. And then I saw God.

He didn’t look like I expected God to look, but he told me he gets that a lot. He also said it’s weird, since he doesn’t really have a corporeal form and the mind just projects what it wants him to be and that’s what we see. So for some reason my brain had a really different image of what it expected God to look like than what I always thought God would look like. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around that.

Anyway, I looked up from my phone and God was there. Just standing there, like it was no big deal. He didn’t say anything at first, which was weird. And so naturally I'm all, "Oh shit am I dead?" And he just sort of looked down and rubbed his eyes and then I was like, "Oh, sorry about the cursing, man."

I was really worried that was gonna blow my chance at Heaven, like I would fumble it at the goal line or something, but then I started thinking about it and I was pretty sure that if I had made it this far despite the way I'd lived my life, saying "shit" to God wasn't gonna kill the deal. But he was all about the power play, you know? That whole "whoever speaks first, loses," crap they teach you at crappy sales jobs? He probably came up with that. He just stood there, staring at me, for like 10 minutes. And at first I was trying to play along, like no way he's gonna beat me, but then I remembered I had already talked when I asked him if I was dead and plus he's God so it's not like I'm gonna intimidate the guy into making a mistake. Also: why would I try to make God make a mistake?

So I was like, "Is there something you needed?"

And he was like, "Yes, William, I hath a divine prophecy and I shall entrust you with its delivery to your fellow man." Which was pretty heavy. I started wondering how I would even deliver a prophecy. But then it hit me.

"Oh, my name isn't William." I could see him scrunch up his eyebrows.

"Well, you go by Bill then, but it you were named William," his voice boomed.

"No. My name's Kevin." And he just stood there, staring at me, like he was waiting for me to remember that my name isn't actually Kevin, that my name is William, but I didn't, because my name's not William. It's Kevin.

"Oh. Sorry about that," he said softly, and then he sort of disappeared. Just as quickly as he'd appeared. I was back at the bus stop. The 320 was already pulling away and I missed it.

I was late for work.

2.03.2015

You can make a little money if you're willing to do some horrible things

When the headline popped up in my email, I did a double take:

You can earn $13,000 a year selling your poop

Surely this is some kind of scam, I thought as I excitedly clicked the link. But I could use an extra $13,000! Who couldn't?! 

And if I can get that $13k by selling something I'm literally flushing away every day, sometimes six or seven times a day (I eat a lot of red meat), then I'd be a fool not to! But first I had to verify that my turds would not be used for nefarious purposes or sinister gain. If a couple of sexual deviants want to rub doo doo on each other in order to reach climax, fine. But I don't want it being dropped from a drone onto someone in a far off country. I mean, not unless I get to push the button. Actually now that I think about it, I might pay $13,000 to drop my shit on someone from a drone.

But it turns out it's not nefarious at all. It's a place called OpenBiome and they want to take your poop and shove it up other people's butts. Actually, that sounds pretty fucking nefarious. That's like Human Centipede-level creepiness. Suddenly I had forgotten all about that 1998 Camry I was gonna buy and now I was terrified to leave my house on the off chance some psycho in a stained lab coat would tackle me and forcibly inject a stranger's shit into my butt. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WITH A REPUBLICAN-CONTROLLED CONGRESS.

I guess they use it to help people who have lost their gut flora due to illness or antibiotics or whatever, but I kind of like the idea of people being pinned to the sidewalk and having a cake froster shoved in their rectum to delivery a poop slurry. At least they have a helpful chart:

"Be out in a minute honey, I'm saving lives in here!"