Ghost Write the Whip

Okay, so today's blog was written by what we'll call a guest author. It was written back in June of last year by Jamie Dunphy. Since I like things that are awesome as well as sharing said awesome things, I thought I would present this for your enjoyment.

What makes this blog more fitting is the release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull this coming May.

So enjoy it . . . or I'll find you.

I know it may be sacralige, but...

(Conversation that took place almost 27 years ago)

Movie writer: Ok, I have an idea for a movie. Now hear me out. You take a rugged good looking man with a PHD in archeology...ok, ok...and he teaches at a college. But the US goverment comes to him and says that because of his specific expertise in archeology, he is the only person who can save America. Now, a very bad situation has arisen. The...um..the NAZI's have gotten very close to finding the Ark of the Covenant (arguably the most holy of missing idols to all people across the world. This will TOTALLY get the attention of all those Christ lovin' blue-blooded Americans!). So, even though the Nazi's have spent years looking for the Ark...the government thinks this doctor can find it in only two days. So he does. And...umm... he finds it, and it's in a big-ass pit deep down in the ground and, even though there is no light, or air or anything, it's full of snakes...POISONOUS snakes! Oooh! Oh, and the doctor hates snakes...so he has to try and deal with all these poisonous snakes. Anyway, this archeologist barges into a big ol' pit, and just knocks unimportant shit out of the way and grabs this ark thingy, but of course, the evil NAZI's see that he has found it, and they steal it...oooh. Then they lock him in forever. But the doctor breaks out in a matter of two minutes. He knocks down a big ass wall with a statue of a screaming wolf thing, and I'm thinking that for some reason there could be a bunch of dead people who scream and shriek and such. Just for effect...you know. Then they just move a teeny tiny block out of the way and they're free. Then they steal back the ark, then the Nazi's steal it back again. And then he rides on the outside of a submarine that never goes under the water. Then he suddenly has a bazooka. Then he just doesn't use the bazooka. And the Nazi's take the ark from the top secret, very nice and modern looking base, and march it up a scary ol' mountain to a big platform where some dude starts chanting and opens the ark, and the ark kills everyone, but the doctor knows not to look, and it doesn't kill him because he didn't look.

Movie Producer: Yes. YES! Here is a large pile of money in a burlap bag with a big dollar sign on it.

The final result: Raiders of the Lost Ark is a stupid movie. The end.

- Jamie Dunphy

So there you have it. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I did.

- The Bean

Facing the Va-Giants

So I just finished watching one of the biggest cinematic dumps in history titled "Facing the Giants." First of all, no, it's not about giants. There are no giants or other people of abnormal size in or around this movie, so don't bother. Although, one of the actors in the movie was pretty fat. Maybe in the high seven hundreds or so. But he wasn't what I would consider a "giant." More like a really pudgy blanket.

If you've never seen it, please allow me to spoil it for you so that you may never have to see it. It took me three agonizing half hour installments in order to watch it, so I think it's only fair to spare you that hour and a half of your life. It's basically about a very whiny, balding man. He cries about everything and he mopes about and he wonders why life sucks. He's the crappy coach of a crappy football team. He whines because his football team sucks, he whines because he can't get his wife pregnant, and sometimes he whines because he whines.

Then he asks for God's help. Yeah, I know. That's what I said. The movie is basically a Bible ad surrounded by a formulaic football movie. He asks for God's help (who didn't make an appearance the ENTIRE movie) and, go figure, his team wins. But here's something I was thinking about for the whole movie. Whether you believe in God or not, this guy is still a whiny douchebag. And I think that's the underlying plot point that you, as the viewer, are supposed to take away from the movie.

So the movie is actually about metaphorical giants. Big stupid metaphorical giants. Also, the team they play at the end is named "the Giants" just in case you didn't follow the metaphor.

Anyway, there's no real message here. Just don't see the movie. It's painful.

- The Bean

Diane Keaton's Vagina

Okay, here we go. If any of you were immediately offended by the title of this particular blog, you can thank my friend and former roommate Jamie for that bile taste currently in the back of your throat.

He suggested that I talk about what Diane Keaton's lady parts would "taste like after they've been soaking in a hot tub filled with apple juice all day." Wow. He paints quite the picture with words, doesn't he folks? I contend that her womanly bits would most likely taste like said apple juice, and nothing more.

Have any of you ever heard of a grapple? And I don't mean like wrestling. I'm talking about the fruit. It's basically an apple that's been injected or infused or something crazy like that with grape flavor (natural grape flavor i would assume). I've never had one, but crazy scientific combinations always pique my interest. Like pluots, or clamato, or . . . peanut belly (It's my combination attempt for peanut butter and jelly. I didn't have any other items to list, leave it alone.)

I was interested in trying the grapple in the first four minutes or so after I heard about it. Then, my logical thought process led me in this direction:
"Grapple? What the hell is that? . . . . Well, it sounds like a combination of things. Maybe a grape and an apple. God I'm smart. I wonder what that would even taste like. Man, I'm hungry. . . but I'm also kind of fat. So maybe I shouldn't be thinking about food right now. I should do some situps. . . But I'm so fucking hungry . . . . hehehe . . . sofa king hungry . . . funny. (three minutes later) . . . It looks like an apple but tastes like grapes? Why wouldn't I just eat grapes then? What a dumb fucking invention."

And that's where I would land on it. Oh wow, an apple that tastes like grapes! You know what else tastes like grapes? Fucking grapes! And they're cheaper too. I don't think that the design of the grape is particularly flawed really. They're not cumbersome or unwieldy. They're grapes for Christ's sake. If you can't get a handle on a couple of grapes, then my bet is that you can't grab on to an apple real well either. So maybe just stick to picking and eating your scabs. And stay away from Diane Keaton's vagina if at all possible.

I'm only trying to help.

- The Bean

Idears

Hello all. Happy new year and whatnot.

Pleasantries aside, I was thinking about writing more blogs this year. I wasn't making a resolution, mind you. Let's clear that up right now. Resolutions are all bullshit.

I was just wanting to write more things. More stuff, if you will. (I know, I'm a poet with words. Suck it.) More blogs, actually. I've been writing skits and sketches lately that I've kept private, which have successfully helped me prevent writing anything here.

Anyway, I was just going to put this out there to ask any of you (all five of you) for suggestions of topics to write about. If you want me to address anything (save for politics and other boring shit like that) that you enjoy or detest, let me know. Just leave a comment at the end of any of the previously written blogs on what you think I should write about. In the meantime, I'll continue to come up with my own stuff. But at least this way there will be more accountability as far as posting more blogs.

So there you have it. I'll cater to your needs, much like an attentive lover. And if I don't know anything about what you suggest, I'll see how well I can fake my way through it.

Take care!

- The Bean

PDA-Holes

I hate PDAs. Plain and simple. And if you're awesome like me, you hate them too. I refer, of course, to "Public Displays of Affection" and not "Personal Digital Assistants," "the Parenteral Drug Association," or even "Pakistan Domestic Airlines" (though all three can be irritating given the right circumstances).

Public Displays of Affection. That phrase shouldn't even exist, because people shouldn't be so arrogant to do that shit in public. Like they're the only ones that exist in that moment. Look, I realize that you're in love and that you want the world to know it. But this isn't some romantic comedy where I'm gonna look at you and be like "THAT IS ADORABLE." This is real life and the only reaction you'll get from me is a gag reflex. That, and you might see me fight the overwhelming urge to push your heads together.

I understand hand holding. That's fine. People that aren't even in love hold hands from time to time. It's nice. And it's not disgusting. From a distance it can be written off as two people swinging their arms in unison, or if you so desire you can even ignore it completely. But when two people are necking one or two feet from my head, all I can think about is putting one or two of my feet up their ass. It's gross people. Really. Don't do it.

And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "You've just never been in love enough to know what it's like to be so into someone that nothing else exists." First of all, fuck you. Don't presume to know me. And don't ever say something as gross as that to me again. I know exactly what it's like. I also know what it's like to respect other people out in public and to not subject them to something like that. That's like saying that if you're focused on something that intently, that it's okay to just do it. But here's the thing, I've had to crap really badly before while out in public, and I can GUARANTEE that under no circumstance would my need to do that override my need to not make people around me throw up all over themselves.

You wanna know the strange part? The thing that set off this whole topic in my mind was something that happened at the airport like a week and a half ago. It was a quarter to fucking early and I was sitting there minding my own business imagining a fight scene between myself and Wilmer Valderama when suddenly I heard baby talk and kissing sounds. Granted, it wasn't two people making out. It was a mother and her baby. She somehow chose to sit right behind me. Out of TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY TWO seats, she picks the one directly behind my head. Awesome.

Look, you can sit there in your tower and think that I'm an asshole for being irritated at a mother and child, but I argue the following:
A kissing sound is still a kissing sound regardless of the age of the people involved. Whether it's two adults mouth to mouth or whether it's a mother lovingly kissing the top of her baby's head matters not. It still makes me want to start blindly throwing punches. It's a lot like Pavlov's test. Only instead of the bell causing dogs to drool, It's kissing sounds and baby talk causing vicious punch combinations. And I don't rightly care if you think that a mother kissing her baby is adorable. It's still annoying. If you love it so much, you could always imagine it. That way I don't have to see it and we'd both be spared the awful noises.

And if you're of the mindset that PDAs are okay, then what about if I were to have a PDA with myself? Hmm? What then? Just shoved my hand down the front of my pants. How adorable would that be? That's my point. It wouldn't.

That's why the next time I'm out in public and I see two complete strangers speed bagging each others' uvulas I'm gonna have my own personal PDA while staring intently at them and muttering creepy shit to myself.

So think about it. We can call a truce right now. The choice is yours. Choose wisely.

- The Bean

Let Me Tell You About a Proud Uncle

He is I and I am him (slim with the tilted brim). I'm sorry. I stole that line from Snoop Dogg but I thought it was such a horrifyingly good opening that I couldn't pass it up. Also I'm unoriginal, which is why the blog I'm writing is actually just a story I heard yesterday that I'm now passing off as my own. So listen up douchebags.

So, I have this nephew who lives in Washington. And in actuality, he's really like my step second cousin or some wordy shit like that. However, after reading this story, you will see why I claim him as my own.

So apparently Doc, as I call him, is of an age where he is able to speak. Not only that, but he's in the wonderfully innocent phase of embarassing his parents in public. This, in itself, is pretty funny, but not the reason I'm bragging about him. It's the way in which he chose to embarrass his parents.

They were in a shopping establishment (we'll say Target, just so it's more relatable) when Doc saunters up to some other young boy that he's never met and asks him the following:

"Do you have a penis?"

I know, right? Just let that sink in (hehe, seriously, think about it). How wonderful a sight that must have been! If you didn't know better, you'd think I was feeding him lines via a child-sized ear piece. And although he's not my blood, I feel closer to him now more than ever. How brilliant is this child going to turn out to be!? He's already learned to cut through all the bullshit and get to the meat (pun absolutely intended) of the situation.

"Look, I don't know you. I don't know your name. And I don't care. I don't care where you came from or what you're even here to buy. Just tell me one thing good sir. Do you have a penis? Yes or no! Let's not mince words here. I need the info and then I'll be on my merry way."

And here's the thing. I'm almost certain that were his capacity for speech up to par with mine, that's exactly what he would have said. Either that, or he would have gone the other way and been even more direct.

"Penis? Yes or no?"

Of course, that question can be taken so many ways (that pun totally just wrote itself), so I fully understand and support his decision to use the full sentence.

Doc, I love you. And to answer your question before you have to ask it, yes, yes I do. And it's the reason that your dear old uncle has back problems.

- The Bean

All Growns Up

It occurred to me two days ago that I may now officially be an adult. Other than having turned 28 a week ago which some people might consider to be a pretty sizable step into adulthood, the moment came to me a few days later. It was the day that I brought my last big box of junk to the Salvation Army donation center in the parking lot of a Fred Meyer. The contents of said box? Well, let's see. An old cordless phone that I knew I'd never use again, some baseballs (for whatever reason), and like 10 pairs of nunchuks (no joke). Yes, it would be every 13 year old's dream to stumble upon that box of crap because of how much cool shit was in there.

The thing about it is, it was hard for me to finally get rid of that stuff (mostly the nunchuks). Some might say that the contents had sentimental value or some such thing. But that's not it. The thing about it is I still really think nunchuks and cassette tapes of cartoon rapping cats (if you know who I'm talking about, I love you) are actually pretty awesome. Does that make me immature? Because if it does, then does the fact that I just finally gave all that stuff away make me a grown up?

Okay, what about if I immediately came home and watched Disney's Robin Hood? What does that mean? And what about the next morning when I watched part of the 3 Ninja's on HBO? Actually, I think the full title was "3 Ninjas: Wasting My Time." I didn't actually watch that one because I used to like it or anything. I was actually using it as motivation for my own writing. It's pretty common practice for me. It gives me hope when I see something super shitty, that it really must not be that hard to write things that don't suck. And really, to see a movie where Hulk Hogan dressed up like a faux He-Man was considered a major plot point only gives me that much more hope.

I don't really even know what I'm driving at here. I think I used to be worried that being 28 and not feeling mature was a big deal. Like I'd somehow think of myself as a bad person or like I didn't fit in or something like that. The truth is, I only want to embrace it more. I still enjoy laughing when people fart, or when I can share in the delight of a movie titled "The GingerDead Man" (thank you Carrie).

I don't want to go to dinner parties or business meetings, or make small talk and pretend that I'm all grown up. I want to be able to laugh when people run into stationary objects or when it stinks in an elevator and everyone pretends they don't smell it.

Ultimately, I guess I want to maintain my immaturity and childlike outlook on life. So I think I will.

In closing, I'd like to say 'poop' because I think it's a funny word.

Poop.

- The Bean