Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Tuesday Binge Drinking Poem

As the economy slumps,
And with nothing to sell,
Just cold calling cunts,
In our own private hell.

While five draws close,
Our palette does wet,
For that pill's first dose,
And this day to forget.

The low tide smell,
In our favorite pub,
We begin our descent,
With scotch, splash of club.

Starts with three singles,
Then two doubles down,
Our car keys a jingle,
We're hitting the town...

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Wednesday To Do List

Mondays are always a surprise kidnapping of joy. Tuesdays were created for Laredo taintstrapped bars of grainy Xanax and slow sips of motherfucking Hennessey VS. On Wednesday we work, don't believe us? Gander...
To D0s (9/23)
AM
- Two breakfast tacos from El Rey and a small cantelope juice
- Diligently complete our reality series pitch where Danny Glover, of Lethal Weapon fame, searches for true love by going on a string of blind dates with slightly racist older women.
Look out Daughters of the Confederacy, Danny's at the door and he's changing minds.

- Rip other arm off S. Bradford voodoo doll, wrap in bacon and feed to chow next door.
- Buy Bob Schneider tix for Friday.
- 11:00 appointment with Cheryl from Comerica
a) seek financing for our new bar called Licka Stoe
b) don't mention her bad eye or wingless pterodactyl voice
c) EW to make aggressive sexual advance if denied
- Two Cuban tacos from El Rey and a small diet Coke

PM
- Write a coworker's suicide note, mail to work
- Leave a few unwrapped Snickers bars in the Belle Meade pool
- 3:00 appointment with Ernesto from Amegy
a) seek financing for our new record label called KinderBlunts, Inc.
b) don't mention his garage door forehead or foghorn halitosis
c) DS to make aggressive sexual advance if denied
- Check PO box for income/pornography
- One Hot Acapulco Sandwich at El Rey and an Orchata
- Educate Doghouse Tavern on the plight of a brave nation by plugging their jukebox with a $20 and an endless loop of Cherokee.

Sky punches, dusty leather pants and legacy.
- Meet at Porch Swing or King Biscuit or Red Lion, juice liver, vomit in a urinal, blame the last guy, sleep clothed on raft in jacuzzi

Note: If you have any interest in investing in future megabizzes like Licka Stoe and KinderBlunts, Inc or are Danny Glover, please contact our agent, Lawrence Soapblade, at whatmotherfucker@cloudychamber.com

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Tuesday Peeve

Hey lady at the Starbucks creamer bar -- do you think you could arrange your fat ass anywhere besides the very middle so others could get a whack at the half and half? And what is taking so long? Are you trying to split the atom with skim milk, two Splenda, and a stirrer stick? You carefully placed napkins on the bar before you began your delicate operation. Why? This is not an operating theater at Mount Sinai. You are not a heart surgeon. Open the cup, pour in the milk, dump in the sweet stuff, stir it all around. Goodbye. You're fucking out.
You owe us for two minutes that we'll never get back. That will be $15.66.

Exhibit A: Proper Way to Sarge a Peahen


Monday, September 21, 2009

Hang in there good citizens...

The Lords have taken a much-deserved hiatus over the past several weeks to celebrate nuptials, offend Asians on their home turf, and generally to recuperate from the meth-fueled sex romp that was our summer. We will return in good time with new stories of valor, advice for the deserving, and warnings for the unwary. In the meantime, to hold you over, now hear this:

This is not a political blog, but this healthcare debate has gotten our hackles up. We know that we're expected to reflexively weep giant salty tears of pity and grief whenever Anderson Cooper tells us that 40 million Americans have no health insurance. We know that we're supposed to hang our heads in self-immolating shame whenever we are reminded that some of those uninsured are - gasp - children!

But what about the children?!
But we are not persuaded. In fact, we find the voices on all sides of this seemingly interminable row to be shrill, uninformed, and generally without redeeming social value. So, in no particular order, here are the Lords' prescriptions for meaningful health care reform:
5. Sell Florida to the Indians. (Think Apu, not Cochise.) We'll ask for Goa, but we'll settle for 50 shares of Tata Motors and a poster of that chick from Slum Dog. Florida is America's wang, and we're gonna have to cut that thing loose to save the republic.
4. Sin tax on health insurance for smokers and the obese.
3. Exception to rule No. 4 for hot girls who smoke to stay thin. Puff away, babydoll, the Lords got your backside. Need a light?
2. Legalize abortion through the 15th trimester. How's that for late-term, Connor McWhinesalot?
1. No boner pills unless you present the girl to our self-appointed "sex panel." The Lords will decide whether your dip in the honeypot is worthy of our tax dollars.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Wednesday Haiku

Want in the biscuit.
Tuesday Night Tequila Fight.
No salt or lime, thanks.