And it is now time to unveil the images of my new mask. To illustrate how well Dave did recreating my stuff, I'm going to display each side, first showing my mockup and then the finished product...

And away we go...

This is my mockup of the backplate of the mask


and here's what Dave did (note the missing nickname on the final product):


Here's my mockup of the front view:


And the final product, scythes and all:


My mockup of the right side of the mask:


David's excellent interpretation of my reaper...He took the most artistic license with this one, but he definitely helped it to stand out beautifully:


Aaaaaand the left side (my mockup):


Dave's work...This, to me, truly is a triumph. The Grim Thresher! Whoo! It's extremely hard for someone who already has an artistic or cartooning "style" to completely and faithfully recreate someone else's drawings without even somewhat losing the original flair. I'm SO PLEASED with this, it's unreal:


So there's that. I should get a chance to use it in an actual game coming up real soon. Oh, I almost forgot...I won a CD from a band called The Darkness from Daveart...Ray let me listen to their stuff. It was...weird. So, if you like the band The Darkness, let me know. You may win their CD from me. I don't think I'm gonna need it...

Oh yeah, and he sent the free maskbag. He must've liked the shark I did, he never said. I also sent an email to Dave's North American rep today with my feedback about the mask in which I asked why "Swedish Sieve" was left off. If there's any response, and it's worth sharing, I'll post it.

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, hockey stuff, Illustrations, Phrickin' Photoblogs, sports, tales of triumph

Well, my custom-painted mask (featuring my own cartoons) arrived today, 3 days later than it should have (FedEx can kiss my ass, by the way). It looks awesome, Dave Gunnarsson did a fantastic job recreating my stuff. He did, however, leave off the phrase "Swedish Sieve" from the backplate which disappoints me greatly. That was kind of the whole point...But anyway...I'd show pictures of the thing here, but I suddenly seem to not have access to any sort of digital camera...As soon as I locate one, I'll post some pictures. I can, however, answer some of the FAQs that I've already received just showing it around work today...

Q: Did someone local paint that for you?
A: No, I sent it to Sweden.

Q: Isn't there someone local who COULD'VE painted it?
A: Mike Sanchez, if he had more experience painting helmets, would've been my first choice. But, he doesn't. So, "no."

Q: so, you spent HOW MUCH on this?
A: over $1000. Shut up.

Q: So, who's this for?
A: me.

Q: you're a goalie?
A: I try to be.

Q: You really play hockey?
A: So far, that's what it's been called.

Q: You're not really going to WEAR THIS while you play, are you?
A: well, yeah. That's kind of why I had it done.

Q: What if it gets hit?
A: it happens.

Q: What the Hell is that skeleton doing?
A: driving a thresher. He's the "Grim Thresher." Collin helped me come up with that.

Q: you drew these?
A: yes, and David painted them.

So there's that. Also, unless something changes, I will be taking some time off work (and likely from posting) for the next few days because my wife and I are going to be moving into OUR NEW HOUSE! yay! I'll post pictures of THAT as soon as I can too. Until then, adios muchahos...Thanks for reading.

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, hockey stuff, sports, tales of triumph

Quite often, we engage in "game night" at my parent's house. By "we," I mean me, my Wife, my Mom, my Sister and whomever else may be around (Dad works when my Sister doesn't, so they CAN be interchangeable...kind of). It's not always organized, an actual game night CAN be nothing more than dropping by and playing cards. It can, however, be a highly organized event to which people are invited and hijinks ensue. Either way, some of the funniest things I have ever witnessed have been born from these "game nights" (pour water on these, for example). I often lament not having some sort of recording, video or otherwise, of these events to share with others. At the very least, I could use them to illustrate how much fun we have. And it'd be much easier than trying to describe something extremely funny out of context.

That having been said, I'm going to try and explain what happened at our most recent game night...

One of the games we played that night is a simple board game called Loaded Questions. A loose definition of the game is as follows: Whomever's "turn" it is gets to read a question from a card. The other players then write their answer on their sheet and pass the sheets to the person who's on the left of the "asker." The answers are read aloud, in random order, and the asker then has to guess who wrote what, getting points for correct answers. Things change if there's a "reversal," but that doesn't matter so much for the purposes of my little story here...Anyway, the game is ok, sometimes it's way too easy to guess who's what...I figure it's meant to be more of a "party game," in the sense that it should be played amongst people who HAVEN'T necessarily known each other their WHOLE lives. With this in mind, I sometimes find it's beneficial to "waste a turn," so to speak, to write something shocking or funny, rather than be completely truthful...

Hey, everyone knows you have to lie to be funny...Right?..Anyway...

During this particular game of Loaded Questions, my Mother was required to pose the question "What's the WORST thing you can possibly call someone?" I could tell that my Wife and my Sister were taking this question SOMEWHAT seriously...I debated in my head for a short while and, even though I WAS able to come up with a few ultra-derogatory remarks, decided to "waste" this particular turn to see how rock-solid and straight-faced my wife could be, seeing as she was the one who would get to read the answers during this turn...I WANTED to put something funny...Ironically, the first thing that popped in my head was "Mary, Queen of Scots." Strange, I know...It WAS irreverent, but I figured it was too vague and off-topic to be truly "funny." I knew I had to come up with something that carried good shock value, but that had enough syllables to make it's reading difficult, at least with straight face. I decided upon my choice of derogatory terms and handed to my Wife. As I did, I suddenly thought about exactly what I had written and immediately had to hide my face with my hat. I couldn't keep a straight face myself...My wife looked at the paper and fell face down into the table, trying, but failing, to maintain her composure.

"I had scored," I thought...

My wife did regain her composure just long enough to begin reading the answers. "poo-poo" was the first one, her own, stemming from the fact that her Mother (my Mother-in-law) had seen fit to bestow this horrifying nickname on her when she was young. Next to come was the phrase "the 'C' word," my Sister's answer. I remember that an ex-boyfriend of hers called her "the 'C' word" once. She immediately slammed him into a wall in the presence of some of their co-workers, an act that damaged his pride severely (way to go, I always thought). My poor wife then had to tackle the arduous task of reading MY answer. Taking a deep breath, she was able to emit the phrase "Shittyfu" before once again collapsing on the table, unable to control her laughter..."What is it!?" my Mom and Sister both demanded...WHAT COULD BE SO HARD TO READ? My poor, poor wife was finally able to scream my little answer for all to hear...

it says "SHITTY FUCKERPANTS!"

OK, I'll grant you that it doesn't LOOK like much, sitting there all by it's lonesome...In the context of our game, however, it was enough to cause a total shutdown. I couldn't stop laughing, mostly from my Mother's shock at what she had just heard and my Sister, since she was laughing. If others start laughing, I can't stop...My wife was laughing...We were, in fact, all nearly incapacitated with gleeful laughter, our brains seemingly still rolling the phrase "shitty fuckerpants" around in our heads, trying to make some sense of it but finding none. I personally experienced one of the most satisfactory and physically draining bouts of laughter that I've ever had. I truly think I came as close to "dying of laughter" as I had in a long, long time. Hell, my answer even caught ME by surprise, Seeing as I had to decide on it and write it so quickly. I still can't say the phrase with a straight face. Try it!..You'll smile, at the very least, even if you don't want to...

Lost in this maelstrom of glee, however, was the fact that my Mom STILL had to decide who wrote what...The show must go on, after all...

Still laughing hysterically, she jabbed her finger at my wife and shouted "YOU'RE POO POO!" My Wife's eyes widened...I can only imagine what kind of horrible memories flooded back for her at that precise moment. Not missing a beat, my Mom points at me and yells "YOU'RE THE FUCKERPANTS!" she then swivels around, looks straight at my sister, and bellows "So that means YOU'RE THE CUN*!" Gasps, shock and more wide eyes suddenly accompanied the uncontrollable chortling at the table, even my Mom hadn't quite realized what she had said until she said it...None of us could stop laughing...We had all just been called the worst possible things in the world by our Mother (in-law for my wife, but you get the picture.) This simple exercise into exposing our opinions had suddenly become a raucous, name-calling 10-minute laugh-riot...I really wish that I had a video tape of the whole thing, I really can't do the incident justice with my little typings...I will, however, never forget it...Even when I'm really really old. I mean REALLY old. I'll be in my wheelchair at the old folks home muttering "fuckerpants...fuckerpants..."

I wish I could laugh like that all the time.

Labels: lame stories, stuff mom's done

Again, I can't furnish a complete entry for all 4 of you because I've been busy with other obligations, such as...

This was my promotional photo from my days spinning records at WJW in Cleveland. I only lasted a week before being summarily dismissed for playing "race records" and for using the phrases "Hell," "Damn" and "Mary, Queen of Scots." I was replaced by some young up-and-comer named "Alan Freed." Whatever...


I spent years as a recluse after the WJW debacle before I found Jesus. (he was under my bed the WHOLE TIME! WHO KNEW?) I then formed a Christian Heavy Metal group called the "Bumblebees of Babylon." We rocked! We signed on with a major recording label who immediately dispensed with the original lineup seen above (Atomic Andy, Bodacious Brent, Myself and Caustic Collin), replaced us with harder rocking (and better looking) musicians and changed the band's name to "Stryper." Should've read that contract all the way through I guess...

Labels: Phun With Photoshop, pointless shit

I haven't written because I've been busy, as the following pictures illustrate...

This was taken before a wonderful State dinner. Ike was cordial, but he laughed at my new suit. I acted like It didn't bother me, but later, during dinner, I kicked his dog while it was under the table. I blamed it on the Korean delegate, who didn't speak much english, but smiled and nodded when I said the word "dog."


Later, I used my new connections to land a spot in the Space Program. I was all set to make history, but Scott (pictured at left) got us all kicked out. It's a damn shame, because I had a little speech worked out for when we landed and everything.

Labels: Phun With Photoshop, pointless shit

cut from an IM between my sister and myself...

DK: it's new and (dare I say) "exciting..."

HB: what else could we expect from "El Frenetico?"

DK: "Frenetics," I guess...I'm like L. Ron Hubbard without the proven science and stuff.

Labels: pointless shit

April Fools day came and went this year with a minimum of fanfare. Frankly, I'd be in the mood to pull prank calls any day of the year, but on April Fool's Day, people tend to be much better sports about having their proverbial leg pulled. Of course, it also means that people are completely skeptical of any telephone call they may receive on April 1...I perpetrated a number of prank calls this past April Fool's day, none of which went terribly well...(Goddamn caller I.D. technology...)

This audio entry runs roughly 3 minutes, mostly because I went into it without a script of any kind and I didn't edit it down at all. I'd apologize for the sound quality, but I think it's understood that I'm not sitting in front of a Telex machine and a bank of processors...The audio file that follows is a conversation I had with "Rochelle" who works for IMS next door. She wasn't buying any of what I was trying to feed her...I guess I'm posting this simply because I had fun doing the voice of "Jimmy Wong..."



I have other pranks recorded that I may post in the future...Depends upon whether or not I can put together anything better...

Labels: all those funny voices, audio

It's recorded that the 27th President of these great United States, William Howard Taft, once became stuck in a bathtub in the White House due to his ample girth. It's storied that it took 4 grown "Taft Wranglers" to yank him free. Now, think about this...

Wouldn't you think that he'd kind of KNOW in advance that the tub was too small? It's called self-awareness, people...If I took a gander at a bathtub that were, in fact, dwarfed by MY OWN UNDERPANTS, I doubt I'd chance trying to cram my largesse into it, let alone bathe in it. I'm starting to think that this storied piece of Presidential trivia is either a complete load of bullshit or Taft did it on a dare. "Hey, Howie, think you an fit in here?...HOWIE! HOWIE! HOWIE!" Maybe he had an intern in there with him...I dunno...Just tossing out a random thought...

Labels: pointless shit, stagnation

Just because when people make fun of religious subjects, other people laugh with that nervous sort of chortle that says "I don't WANT to laugh because if I laugh, I'll go to Hell," I fixed up the following wee little audio entry. Actually, I can't take full credit for it...Collin was instrumental in making it "funny," or at least funnier than if I were just left to my own devices. He threw out a couple off-the-cuff ideas which prompted me to rewrite the thing a bit and, frankly, I know it turned out better because of it. Basically, what you'll hear when you click the link below is a spoof commercial for an "exciting new television show." This show features characters you'll surely be familiar with. The title? "Trinity's Company"



Guest starring alongside yours truly are Collin, Scott and Ray. I have to say, it was a lot of fun trying to direct them...Certainly slightly more fun than it was "frustrating." I'm thinking they may have held back some, but I WILL SAY that Collin is certainly the best actor out of the three...So way to go, pal...

Labels: all those funny voices, audio, religion, spoof commercials

just a couple days ago, I lamented the fact that sharks don't have terribly defined skeletons like us wily humans do. I know this declaration was just a wee bit obtuse, but it WAS for a specific reason. As you may know, I sent my goalie helmet off to Sweden to be painted by a professional artist. The helmet is finally done, which makes me quite happy. The artist that painted the helmet liked my drawings that I supplied for the helmet design so much, that he wanted ME to do a custom drawing for HIM...The exact wording of his broken-English email to me is as follows...
From: www.daveart.com
To: dknight818@aol.com
Sent: Thursday, April 08, 2004 6:20 PM
Subject: Going great

Hello Derek!

We are now working with your mask and it´s going great!

As you know, I love your drawings, tell me more about what you work with!
Are you interested in a deal? I love the scull with the bones crossed and the flag, can you do a version of that for me, and I give you DAVEART MasgBag for free for you new mask? Do a drawing in that same cool style, but exchange the human scull to a shark scull, maybe only the scull, or the sceleton of a whole shark. The scull of the shark should be from the front, just as the pics of the Bruce shark in the Finding Nemo movie, something like that... It would be a great and cool DAVEART pic that I could use on the site and so on.

Let me know

Best Regards/Bästa Hälsningar
DAVEART AB EuropeStudio

I was completely flattered that someone of his ability would request that I do a custom job for him...I immediately said I'd do it, despite the lack of actual skeletal structure that is inherent in REAL sharks. Of course, I was dealing with a cartoon shark (lucky me). My version of a shark skeleton turned out like this:

The fact that I'm getting a mask bag for this drawing makes me happy. The fact that Dave liked my drawings makes me happy. THE FACT THAT MY MASK IS FINALLY DONE MAKES ME TOTALLY GODDAMN ECSTATIC...In fact, I had a dream this morning where the mask gets shipped to me at work and I start laughing like a loon while dancing around, holding the mask tight to my chest. As much as I'd like to avoid looking like an idiot, this is probably how the real thing will unfold. I'll post pictures of the finished product when it comes in.

I'm so frickin' excited...(I just can't hide it.)

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, hockey stuff, random drawings, sports, tales of triumph

I KNOW that at some point in your life, you've come across advertising for Art Instruction Schools...Yes, it's the stupid place that asks you to copy a picture of a frickin' pirate or turtle and send it in. If they like your tracing skills, they'll tell you that you may have what it takes to be a serious art student! Hooray for you!

I make my living as a graphic artist. There's a hell of a lot more to it than just copying lousy little cartoons, believe me. I imagine that, as much of a frickin' ripoff as this place seems, enough people have been taught to "draw, sketch, paint or doodle" through this outfit over the years to pay the bills, otherwise we wouldn't constantly see or hear advertising for the joint. I now present my own version of their advertising. It's simple, but so are they...



This was probably the easiest audio entry I've done so far. It's always nice doing a parody of things that are poorly done in the first place. Cuts my time in half.

Labels: all those funny voices, audio, spoof commercials

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, random drawings

or too many bones at all, for that matter. Damn...

Labels: pointless shit, stagnation

A year or so ago, one of our clients in the Seattle area purchased advertising space in the Pink Pages which is a business directory aimed solely at Lesbians and/or gays. We designed an ad for this publication and sent it off. We were later told by a Pink Pages representative that our ad simply wasn't "gay enough." I'm NOT kidding about this. The representative said, and I QUOTE, "I'm a little gay boy and this ad just doesn't make me want to buy a car. No little gay boys are going to buy a car from this ad." This arrogantly homosexual individual took it upon himself to redesign the ad so as to make it "thoroughly gay" or whatever. I was really confused after seeing his design, since it looked a Hell of a lot like our design, but whatever.

Here recently, a client of ours a little closer to home (in Denver) began advertising in a similar publication. We received a copy of said lesbian and/or gay newspapery thingy and, seeing as I apparently had some learnin' to do as to what ads were really very gay and what ads were not, I perused this paper. What really struck me was how arrogant and/or defensive most of it seemed. Additionaly, I couldn't read more than two or three lines without running into some sort of sexual innuendo. Either way, I was now edugayded and could (hopefully) manufacture advertising for straight OR gay individuals. With that thought in mind, I present (with pride, no less) my commercial for the "Oh Gay Corral..."



This was actually inspired by someone, who shall remain nameless due to their status in the community, who routinely makes fun of the TV commercial for the Daniels Chevyland "OK Corral..." So there you go.

Labels: all those funny voices, audio, spoof commercials

My sister wrote an entry on her little blog a while back about, among other things, the risk of injury and/or utter humiliation associated with jumping on a trampoline. I should preface this entry by affirming the fact that I absolutely LOVE trampolines. I've always wanted one of my own and, with the advent of actually owning a house (replete with backyard) on the immediate horizon, I just may purchase one. I want a really REALLY big one. Really big.

Anyway, I'll get to the point here...

My Aunt and Uncle, who live near Denver, purchased a trampoline for themselves and their two children some time ago. Myself, my wife and my parents, among others, spent this past Easter Sunday at their house. After ingesting what I consider to be a record amount of chips and dip, drinking more than a few sodas and playing a few rounds of cards, I sat down to watch me some playoff hockey. After thoroughly enjoying the result of the Nashville/Detroit game, My wife and I wandered out to the back deck for some "fresh air." I really had forgotten about the fact that they owned the trampoline, but there it was in all of it's mirth-generating splendor. My cousins were jumping around like rabid monkeys, obviously having a grand time. I immediately wanted to have a grand time as well. I did some quick calculatin' and figured that my girth, compared to their girth, could easily spell doom for THEIR good time. Regardless, they were eager to have more people on the trampoline for the purpose of playing more "trampoline-specific" games, so I took off my shoes and joined in.

We played us some games such as "Crack the Egg," "Dead Man" and "Chicken." I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was able to execute more than one flip and was even declared the winner of more than one "endurance and/or agility challenge." Sure, I was competing with two kids and my Wife, but I won, dammit. I was having more fun than I had experienced in some time and, it seemed, my wife was as well. Ultimately, we had to end the jumpy, flippy fun so that we could all go inside and enjoy Easter dinner...

The dinner itself was excellent. We had Honey glazed ham, wonderfully cheesy riced potatoes, rolls, green bean casserole and possibly some stuff that I failed to mention. It was, in fact, so enjoyable that I ingested 2 plates full of meaty starchy goodness. I refrained from having ice cream cake (we were not only celebrating the resurrection on Sunday, but having a combined birthday party for me, my Mom, my Wife and my Cousin Amy) but I did have me some more root beer (I really love root beer)... During the meal, my cousin Mandy was adamant that we'd all have to head back out and jump on the trampoline some more before it got dark. Once the meal was finished, she was very ready to go. Frankly, I was too. Me, my Wife, my Mom and my 2 Cousins made our way outside to the trampoline to experience yet more amazing jumpy fun.

When we got outside, both Mandy and Amy decided they'd be better off with socks on their feet and ran back inside to acquire some. My Wife was more interested in laying in the hammock than jumping on the trampoline and so she headed off in that direction. My Mom was still deathly afraid of anything associated with the trampoline and stayed safely on the deck. I, FINALLY, was left ALL ALONE with the wonderful springy thingy that is the trampoline. I kicked off my shoes, climbed up onto the thing and jumped as high as I felt necessary. I was having an awesome time, not worrying about running into anyone or having my ample rebound energy knock anyone else off. I WAS FINALLY FREE! My wife shouted "do a flip" from where she was lounging and so I obliged, gaining enough air to do a forward half-flip, landing on my back and using the resultant energy return to send me back up to my feet. I repeated this feat a few more times before my cousins came back outside. I, once again, had to be aware of others...I wandered off to the side of the trampoline and assumed a casual position. I placed my right hand in my pocket and used my left hand to brace myself against the deck. When I was just about to resume jumping and having fun and such, my Wife shouted

"OH MY GOD, YOU RIPPED YOUR PANTS!"

I looked downward and found that HOLY CRAP...I had, indeed, ripped my damn pants...The stupid things weren't split on a seam, like one would surely expect, but ripped from my hip halfway down to my knee RIGHT ON THE FRONT OF MY STINKIN' PANTS...Torn right down the front of the thigh, not even remotely repairable, I might add...My nearly new "carpenter jeans" suddenly appeared as if I had lost a battle with a pissed-off cat, and not a small one at that. Immediately embarrassed, I yanked my hand out of my pocket and pulled my hockey jersey down as far as it would go. (Frankly, I was never more pleased to have worn a hockey jersey anywhere or at any time. It covered the newly formed hole quite admirably.) My time on the trampoline was, officially, over, I surely couldn't risk further damage to my pants and I certainly didn't want to risk exposing any more of my pasty, doughy flesh than I already had. I sat, disgusted, in the living room until it was time to go home, watching more playoff hockey. I don't think it was a sign so much to stay off of trampolines, it's not like I injured myself (or someone else). It was more just a warning to be better prepared next time. I'm still dead-set on getting my own trampoline.

I think I'll just buy me some sweat pants while I'm at it.

Labels: indignities, lame stories

As you may or may not know, the parents of Al Yankovic died on April 9, 2004. While I never met his parents and do not know Al personally, I have met Al a few times and was always impressed by how nice and accomodating he is to all of his fans. I've enjoyed Al's music since I was very young and have always been impressed by his integrity. Any two people who could collaborate on a project such as Al are deserving of respect, whether you knew them or not. There's little I can say about this event that would make any difference, other than the fact that it makes me sad, but I would recommend that you read the message from Al that appears on HIS website so as to have all of the correct facts at hand.

Labels: sad stories

OK, so yeah. Look at that picture there...No, I mean REALLY look at it...You know what that is? Huh? IT'S CABBAGE SQUEEZIN'S, FOR GOD'S SAKE! Who would USE that kind of crap? The mere concept simply horrifies me...(shudder)

Anyway...

Our good friend Frank, who works here at the agency, had one of his friends send him that can of krauty, juicy goodness via UPS pretty much because it says "Frank" and "Kraut" and, yeah...Frank's a Kraut. As you are likely already aware, I was instantly terrified by the concept of "kraut juice" upon seeing the can and, since I'm an open-minded guy with no work really to do, I turned my irrational fear into an audio entry. Just as a point of interest, Frank (yeah, like...THE Frank) guest stars in this entry...About liquid horror...And stuff...


Ya! Der Juicen MP3 mit der thumben uppen!..

Labels: all those funny voices, audio, spoof commercials

I would classify the ad agency I work for as a "small company". It's not a tiny little place, but it's small enough that you will eventually get to know everyone in the building on a first name basis, including the 'higher-ups'. It's small enough that you get to know the owner of the company well enough that, in my case, he'll come downstairs, sit at your desk and talk hockey with you every now and then. While this is a pretty cool situation, it's not without it's own unique pitfalls. Last year, I experienced one such pitfall firsthand. It involved me being coerced into singing the theme song to "the Jeffersons" live at a Monday morning meeting.

Now, I'll admit, I love to have fun and 'sing' at karaoke, I've been going to karaoke bars since I was 19 (yes, before I was legally allowed to be in a bar). My strategy was always "don't shave, order diet coke and appetizers and hope nobody asks for ID." If identification IS requested, point to your sweat pants and say "I don't have pockets." If they kick you out, go back the next week and act like it never happened. It's fun! Everyone should try it...Eventually I "grew up" and didn't have to worry about the age thing, but I still love to sing. The only difference is, now, I don't HAVE to do it sober if I don't want to.

We've had karaoke at a couple of company Christmas parties and I've been right up front, making more of a fool out of myself than normal. Apparently, it's this lack of inhibition which I displayed that planted a wee thought somewhere in the back of our owner's mind. The day that he finally decided to capitalize on this idea came sometime last summer on a Friday afternoon. I was at my desk, it's possible that I was working, I can't remember. The owner came downstairs and approached my desk with a piece of paper in his hand. He walked right up, handed me the paper and said "learn this for Monday morning, it's to be sung to theme from "the Jeffersons." You'll be singing it at the meeting. You have a boombox, right?"

A boombox? what the...

I was dumbfounded. I looked at the paper and, no shit, there it was. A neatly arranged parody song about the CEO of the company changing offices and moving upstairs. The owner of the company had apparently JUST WROTE IT and was real eager to get it implanted in my brain...In honor of the CEO's office change, he was going to buy pie and, as he put it, "we'll all get a piece of the pie..." (sung like the end of 'the Jeffersons' song...you know how it goes...) I looked up and kind of stammered "huh? a boombox?"

"Yeah, a boombox...you can have the music playing and sing along with it" he told me. "I don't have a boombox" I told him. "I could take this to the radio station this weekend, record and produce it and then I could lip sync to it" I offered. This, apparently, was not good enough, I was told by the owner that he was "really expecting a live performance." After issuing this directive, he disappeared. I was left holding the lyric sheet feeling kind of like I had just been totally and completely 'bushwacked.' Scott was pointing and laughing at me. I would've pointed and laughed, but...Dammit. I had to sing about "movin' on up to the upstairs" on Monday...

There was much work to be done...

Ironically, the first thing I had to do was re-write the lyrics. The owner, while well intentioned, had gotten a few things out of order. I fired up the actual song (which I keep handy at all times. Don't you?) and compared lyrics as I re-wrote until I had it tightened it up to my liking. I then gave it a run through or two in my head. I was satisfied that it would fit, but I now had to set about finding the karaoke version of "Movin' on up" to sing along with. I knew it existed (I'd seen it before) and thought I may just be able to download the audio. That would suffice, seeing as I wouldn't have a monitor to read from anyway...It turned out that it wasn't terribly easy to find this through my normal download channels, so I set about trying to find someone here in town that would sell me the music. I tried a few karaoke places and finally found one that had ONE UNIT IN STOCK. I was told that "I'd better hurry, because it's not only on a popular disc, but it's set to be discontinued."

Shit! Discontinued?

Instantly fearful that I'd have to sing acapella on Monday, I drove like a bat out of Hell to Rolling Rhythm Karaoke and picked up the disc. (A side note, I found out that the store is now owned by Rudy, who was a security guard at the Gazette while I worked there. He gave me a discount since he knew me. That was pretty cool). I took the disc home, set up the pieces of my equipment that I'd have to bring on Monday morning to sing this damn thing and I practiced. I practiced like I was going to be a contestant on American Idol. I practiced as if my life depended on it. I practiced until I could sing the stupid song without looking at the lyric sheet.

I was like, SOOOOO ready...

Monday morning came. I dressed in black slacks, black wingtips and a shiny blue and black shirt which has flames up the front. I also made sure I had my sunglasses. When I got to work that morning, I lugged my equipment upstairs. After surveying the layout of the room where the meeting was to be held, I decided that the only place I could 'emerge' from to perform would be the owner's office, which is located at the back end of the larger 'lunchroom.' Hell, the least he could offer me would be the use of his office space...

This was HIS idea, after all...

I set up my speakers as inconspicously as I could, ran the cables, checked the equipment one last time, performed a sound and level check and then waited. When the owner showed up, he was simply thrilled to see that I was all set up and ready to sing. After answering the requisite "is this all yours" questions about my audio equipment and going over the cue for me to burst out of the door, I took a seat and ran through the song a few times in my head. The owner closed the door and went to prepare for the meeting. Only a few people knew what was going to happen that morning. The CEO herself was clueless, she never would have allowed it to happen if she had known. Partly, that's why I WANTED to do it, just to see her with an embarrassed, pissed off look on her face.

Shut up, I know I'm evil. We've covered that.

At our predetermined cue point during the meeting, the owner threw open the door to his office. I burst out and sang my...well, his little song to the best of my extremely caucasian ability. The CEO was sufficiently flustered, the rest of the attendees seemed sufficiently entertained and I was...well...happy. I had come through. I had taken on a task that seemed monumental and whittled it down until it was extremely doable. I sang a song that I didn't have any reason to think I could sing. I also had fun, which is a bonus.

Also, I got pie. I Iike me some pie.

Since then, the owner hasn't requested me to do any more parody songs at meetings, but he did request for me to sing first at our most recent company Christmas party while, unbeknownst to him, I was absolutely filled to the brim with booze. Luckily, I didn't trip and fall or throw up. I sang. I doubt I sang well, but I sang.

And, I had fun. Again.

Labels: indignities, lame stories, office supply aggression

It's been a rough week for me when it comes to writin'...Either I can't find the time to write or, if I do, I can't find my way out of whatever it is I'm trying to write...Suffice to say, I have a LOT of stories in the works...I just can't post any yet, they'd make about as much sense as...Well, they wouldn't make any sense.

So, how about those Avalanche? Aebi! Aebi! Aebi!

I figured I'd post some drawings of mine that I came across the other day. Sometimes, I'll go back through a stack of random sketches (like these) and wonder "What the Hell?" I'm not sure what compelled me to draw the items I'm about to display, but they're fun, nonetheless...


I like the catch phrase. He's very straightforward as to his job. No need for a resume here...


Collin said he liked this one. Perhaps he has people he'd like to take the whip to, i dunno. I really can't even say for sure why I drew this...


OBVIOUSLY an experiment into trying to draw like an adolescent girl. If adolescent girls were into death. Note the cheerleader AND THE HEART dotting the 'i' in 'die'


and finally:

I don't normally attach enough importance to anything I draw to bestow a name on them. I had to make an exception in this case. I call this piece "brainfart"

I'll have more actual content real soon. I just didn't want to post 3 audio entries in a row. Perhaps I should just feel lucky that I can complete the audio entries...

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, hockey stuff, random drawings, sports, stagnation

Holy crapoli, two audio entries in two days? Hells yeah, I'm throwin' audio entries around like so much poo in a monkey house MOSTLY because I've got about 10 stupid damn stories in the works For which I've devised no 'exit strategy' as it were.

Right...I know...That usually doesn't stop me...Shut up...

Anyways, this particular audio entry you're reading about was born of the fact that I've seen enough commercials on TV and heard enough on radio for that damn "EHarmony.com" (which, of course, is a dating service that matches you up with compatibility profiles, blah blah blah). Since I'm tired of coming up with words to type, and since it don't take no rocket scientist to see where I'm going with this, welcome to echaos.com:


Just as a point of interest, Collin, Kathy (one of the ValuHo voices) and 'ToMo the MoFo' assisted me by "guest starring" in this lame-ass entry. I'd thank them, but that would just inflate their egos and GOD KNOWS we can't have people around here with inflated egos...Someone might sue for harrassment...

Labels: all those funny voices, audio, spoof commercials

It's ironic that I'd post this after yesterday's entry. Suffice to say that this commercial was complete prior to yesterday's entry even having been written. This, however, doesn't change the fact that I had a lot of fun putting this little commercial together. I hope you have as much fun listening to it...I present First Christian Motors Assembly of Fords...



I'll be coming up with other stuff soon enough, so keep checking back...Maybe I'll make some fun of Hari Krishnas, I haven't done THAT voice yet...

Labels: all those funny voices, audio, religion, spoof commercials

Sidenote: what is it that we're told NEVER to bring up in pleasant company? Sex, Religion and Politics? I'm going for the "trifecta" this week.


So far, I haven't gone to see the film "The Passion of the Christ." I don't feel I need to...I read the book so I think I know how it turns out. This is not to say that I don't appreciate Mel Gibson's effort. I see it as a monumental task to take on such subject matter and do a good job at it. At the same time, regardless of how well a film like that is made, you KNOW that people are going to HAVE to see it, "just because," just because of the hype, just because of the subject matter. Remember the fervor that surrounded the film "The last Temptation of Christ" way back in '88? Heck, folks were lampooning that one without even having seen it...Rumors and such were flying about like so many miller moths. My point is that you could make the ABSOLUTE WORST MOVIE EVER MADE, but if it's about a biblical subject, PEOPLE WILL SEE IT, and not just religious types, either. Religion is BOX OFFICE GOLD, It would take a a lot more time or money than even the ACLU has to change that.

Of course, the amount of press that this movie has received HAS been absolutely insane. The frickin' buzz began way before the film was finished. in fact, the public has been SO WELL AWARE of this film's arrival that it just seems as if "The Passion" has been one of the most anticipated films of our time, maybe of all time. Thanks be to the big fat hype machine that is the media, who LOVE to glom on to controversial subjects. It's always humorous to watch the media blow little tiny details out of proportion so as to further panic, even the slightest bit of panic. Part of this hype/panic that came out about the film was, of course, that there were some that held the fear that it could "spark antisemitism" since the movie depicts the Jews as the instrumental figures in the death of Jesus, as if this fact is not recorded in the bible. To these people, I'd love to say "get over yourself." Stay with me here...This is very simple...

Heck yeah the Jews killed Jesus. You know why? Because SOMEONE HAD TO.

I mean, c'mon! What tenet is the cornerstone of Christianity? The fact that God sent his son to DIE ON THE CROSS so as to absolve us of sin, that's what! Remember that whole "for God so loved the world" business from the bible? Remember that, smartass? Remember the part where if you accept the fact that Jesus died for YOU AND ME then you're saved? huh? It would seem that there are a whole hell of a lot of people out there who simply want to be nasty and then claim the bible as their reason for it. Damn, people, think about this... If you're a Christian, you should be THANKFUL for the fact that the Jews had Jesus crucified, IT FULFILLED THE PROPHECY! Without that event, there would be no Christianity...There would be no Christmas...There would be no New Testament. (I guess there also wouldn't be any Mormons, but everyone's hit or miss, right?) And don't give me any crap about Pontius Pilate, Barabbas and Judas...They, in the long run, were just pawns in the game my friend...Instruments of God...Jesus had to die, God sent him to do just that. Who better than GOD'S CHOSEN PEOPLE to do the deed?

That's right, I said GOD'S CHOSEN PEOPLE. Go back and read the Old Testament if you don't believe me.

And that's another thing! The Old Testament...I've come across too many damn people who claim to be 'christians' and then love to quote from the Old Testament when it's convenient, forgetting that Jesus implored us all to forgive those who would do us wrong...Yeah, dumbass, whenever it suits you, go ahead and remind me "an eye for an eye, that's in the bible..." Yeah, so is a lot of other screwy stuff about begattin' and begottin' and ilicit reproduction for the sake of reproduction and incest and sodomy and IT'S FOUND IN THE OLD TESTAMENT, GENIUS which was pretty well negated by what Jesus preached during his time on earth WHICH IS WHY WE HAVE THE NEW TESTAMENT! Yeah, in the Old Testament it says you shouldn't ingest pork, BUT Jesus told us in the New Testament that "it's not what goes in a man's mouth that defiles him, it's what comes out of it." Check that Old Testament over if you need to, you'll also find interesting guidelines that include safety features that should be on the roof of your house. Simply put, the Old Testament is pretty much obsolete if you're a practicing Christian. Don't be confused by false Christians that hang on to it like some sort of refuge for hate or an excuse to resort to violence or bigotry.

What is a false Christian, you ask? Well, bearing in mind that this whole entry IS simply a statement of my opinion, I'll tell you that a false Christian is anyone who would try and hide behind the bible, all the while tainting the name of Christianity, to justify their own hatred and/or bigotry. The Ku Klux Klan immediately jumps to mind for me. Disgusting filthy demon spawn, the lot of them. I once guest-hosted a radio talk show here in town.
My topic one particular day, because it's one I love to debate, was racism. One of the program's callers was convinced that all racism was the doing of, as she put it, "all those Christian white supremacists." I warned her to stop using that phrase after she uttered it a few times during our discussion, but she kept on keepin' on. I disconnected her abruptly and offered this succinct explanation right before going to commercial: "She made me sick talking like that...I have to say right now that if you ARE a white supremacist, then you sure as Hell aint a Christian."

There's also this church in Kansas that is nothing but a vile abomination and truly very anti-christian in my opinion. I mean, if you REALLY get down to the brass tacks of what Christ's message was, whatever it is they do at this church, it really aint it. Their website makes me ill, but it's their 'public appearances' that really make my blood boil. These damned redneck bigot bastards travel in filthy packs by bus to anything they believe to be wrong, such as funerals of gay individuals (including that of Matthew Shepherd a few years back) and have the absolute gall to protest with signs like "God hates fags" and "he's in Hell." It's enough to make me go insane. WHO DO THESE ASSHOLES THINK THEY ARE!? Haven't the relatives of these poor people suffered enough without a rabid gaggle of self righteous idiots parading around with offensive signage? It's morons like these that make actual Christians look bad. (postscript...I just checked their site and it makes me dislike them even more. You'll see if you follow the link)

Of course, the issue of homosexuality HAS long been a point of contention among religious types. I'll offer my theory on this very quickly. Yes, it's true,
Homosexuality IS condemned in the bible, even upon pain of death. Of course, this is in the Old Testament (Leviticus). In the New Testament, Jesus implores us to love all equally, especially sinners. Is homosexuality a sin? yes. So is heterosexuality outside of marriage. It's the 'sexuality' part that's the sin, folks...So what are we to do? Nothing, that's what...Just hang out. Just be yourself. If you know any sinners (and you do, believe me) love them like you would yourself. it's in the Bible, Jesus spoke about "who needs a doctor more, a sick person, or a well person?" Who needs Jesus more? A sinner does. It's not Christians' responsibility to stamp out "sin" or to force people to change into whatever it is they believe to be the ideal. Of course, there are enough jerks out there that think along those lines, but it shouldn't be the case. We (meaning Christians) should simply live our lives, using our gifts and talents and hope in doing so that we reflect the light and love of Jesus. If the people around us don't think like we do, so be it. We still have to love everyone. It seems hard, but it's not. It's REALLY called 'live and let live.' Or as Joel always put it "I'm just tryin' to live my life."

And yeah, I can hear it now. "You hypocritical bastard, you have no convictions if you say things like that, live and let live." I'd reply with "you're dead wrong." Why should I criticize other people's choices? If my goals are loving all people equally, existing in the company of 'sinners' and 'believers' alike, not giving preference to either and acting in a forgiving manner, then I'm doing EXACTLY what I believe in. Do I always meet these expectations? Of course not, I'm just as much a sinner as anyone else. We're ALL SINNERS after all, that's another little tidbit you can get from the bible (if you're inclined to read it, that is). The real trick is admitting this fact and then turning all of that anger and pain and such over to God. Sounds simple because it is, it's supposed to be. I'm not sure why so many people want it to be so complicated. You know, all sin is sin, there's no ranking system. "The wages of sin are death" and we all will eventually die. There isn't a single solitary one of us out there who has lived a life completely devoid of sin. Humans are hard wired for it, it's built in. (Built-in sin...I like that, I'll have to work that in somewhere else...)

I got to thinkin' about halfway through this entry that yeah, this entry really only applies to Christians, but that's what I am. I'm not looking to offend anyone. I'm not lookin' for props or dittos or kudos or flames, I just felt like ranting. If you're of another belief system than me, more power to ya, as long as you sincerely follow what you believe, then I'd say you're on the right track. Heck, when it comes right down to it, as long as your beliefs show you a way of life that isn't destructive and makes you a better person, what's the harm? If it makes the world around us better, whatever "it" may be, "it" can't be all bad. Frankly, I don't want to debate the finer points of one religion's advantage over another with anybody, that kind of stuff makes my head hurt. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm doing and where I'm going, but I will say that I like the path I've chosen. Just like Chuck Berry said in the song "My Ding-A-Ling": "this is a free country, live like you wanna live, baby!..."

Just play nice with each other, okay?

Labels: misguided rantings, radio stories, religion

In an earlier entry, I alluded to having "quit before they could fire me" at a job I held prior to my service in the demon legion (telemarketing). That statement pertains to my leaving the employ of Pizza Hut. Since you now know how this story ends, I'll quickly flip to the beginning...

As you all know by now, I lived in the city of Denver, Colorado while I was pursuing my degree in Graphic Design. The little Tech School I went to, of course, helped set us all up with apartments and jobs and such...The first place that expressed interest in hiring me was the Pizza Hut Delivery Dispatch Center. The Center is basically just a large room with a metric shitload of phone terminals packed wall-to-wall. In Denver (and Boulder, too), all of the orders for Pizza Hut Delivery go to one central phone number and are handled by this call center. The orders are then routed to the delivery center nearest the caller via computer. My job was to take orders from the unwashed masses and then disperse the orders to the appropriate delivery units so they could then prepare these half-assed Italian-American disc-shaped delights, I never actually had to BAKE anything. In hindsight, I'm not so sure that I still hadn't got the short end of some stick somewhere.

Working with the Hut wasn't my first real job, but it was pretty close to it. It certainly WAS the first job where I had more than just a couple co-workers to interact with, so that took some getting used to. At the call center, everyone was simply a number. You showed up when you were scheduled, logged on to the nearest available terminal, placed your headset on your head and commenced with the order taking. During the "Dinner Rush," which would occur between 4:30 p.m. and 7:00 p.m., the lines would be jammed. Finishing a call simply meant taking on another one, over and over, for nearly 3 hours. I won't go so far as to say it was Hell, but there were times that it sucked pretty bad.

There was a tote board on the wall that would show how many calls were on hold. If this total was too high, the floor would be on 'red light' which meant that no breaks were allowed. If you were on break when the floor went to 'red light,' you had no choice but to immediately return to the floor. Often, the 'on-hold' number would exceed 450 calls. I have to admit, there were times I would rapidly punch the 'release' button on my phone while watching the numbers decrease at an equally frenetic pace. The numbers would climb right back up, of course, and all around could be heard the sound of "I'm sorry you were disconnected. How may I help you?"

During my first 4 or 5 weeks in Pizza order Hell, I developed the nasty habit of accepting every single overtime shift that was offered to me. This meant that I'd come in and work on my day off instead of (surprise) having that day off. I didn't think much of it for a while, until a month had gone by and I had done nothing more than schoolwork and, well, work...work. I remember feeling pretty damn burned out. Simply put, I don't deal well with being burned out. Regardless of who's at fault, I will begin to rebel. My insubordination started out mildly enough, I learned more and more about the phone system and worked my fingers until they became so fast that I could transfer incoming calls away from me and into 'the fishbowl' where the supervisors sat with deadly accuracy. I used as many different names and voices as I thought I could get away with. I even deleted account information of customers that I had deemed 'too unruly to eat.'

Ironically enough, it was around this time that I was promoted to 'section leader' based on a near-perfect monitoring score. Things were looking up. I guess.

At one point, the call center was participating in a radio contest where the host station would play a jingle at a pre-set time of day. The jingle would tell the listeners that, if they called RIGHT NOW, they would win a free pizza. The call center designated one phone to accept the winning call at the winning time. The rest of us were instructed, if a customer inquired as to whether or not they had won, to say "no, but I have another very exciting offer for you!" We would then offer them a combo deal at a discount or something equally as lame. I guess I've always found it hard to follow other people's rules. I did exactly as I was told for the first few callers who were eager to find out if they had scored a free pie. They reacted just as I expected, they hung up. "This is no fun," I thought, so I prepared a wee plan. The next time I received an incoming call during which the caller shouted "DID I WIN? DID I WIN?" I put my best voice forward and exclaimed "YES, YOU WON! Congratulations, all I need is to get your" *click*

I would disconnect in mid sentence, making the callers think that they truly had won the big prize, but UH OH! Something went terribly wrong. They would invariably call back and demand their free pizza. Of course, no matter how far up the call center food chain they got, they were to receive no free pie, only a heartfelt apology and an explanation that the call center was not responsible for malfunctions of any kind. Scenarios like these only served to feed my maniacal need to spread chaos. Of course, one can only spread SO MUCH chaos before one makes a mistake.

I had sort of befriended another call center worker. Ironically enough, I cannot remember his name anymore, but I remember that he and I were about the same age and we were both just about as burnt out on the place as we could be. He escaped from the Hut eventually, but before he left, he entrusted me with his login code and password. As he put it, "just in case I wanted to wreak some havoc in his name after he departed." How lucky! This was a prank GOLDMINE, I thought. I simply had to wait for the right time to do the wreaking.

It was on a lazy Thursday evening when very little was happening that I found myself seated in the back half of the call center, just about completely alone. Most everyone else was either on break or in the front half of the call center which afforded them the opportunity to stare out the window or simply to be less alone. I preferred the alone, it was a lot nicer. It also gave me the opportunity to see if my 'extra login' would still work. I logged into a terminal a few down from the one I was using with the 'other login.' I kept it logged in and then logged myself out. I requested a bathroom break and left the terminal, I returned from my 'bathroom break,' a few minutes later, quickly stopped at the 'bad' terminal, sent an order with a special message, logged out, waited a minute or so and logged back into the terminal I was at prior with my own login. It all seemed so perfect.

Until Delivery Unit 34 called the Call Center.

There are countless individual delivery units in the Denver/Boulder metro area. Each one of these units, as I outlined before, are sent order information by the call center. As an order was sent, you could see which unit it was going to and you had an opportunity to input comments into a text field. You would normally do this to reinforce a special order or to warn the delivery driver if the residence had a dog, things like that. What I had utilized the comments section for in this case was much more simple. As I sent the fake order from the alternate login, I keyed in the phrase "Burn in Hell, Unit 34!" obviously because it fit in the limited space allowed but mostly because I wanted to create a wee bit of chaos off-site. Oh to see their faces at the unit when the special directive rolled off of their printer! What fun that must've been.

I found out pretty quick that unit 34 wasn't quite ready to do any burning, in Hell or otherwise.

within minutes, one of the supervisors found me in the back of the call center. "Have you been at this terminal all night?" he asked?
"Pretty much..." I replied.
"Anyone else around you?" he inquired.
"A couple people, why?" I retorted.
"Come with me" he demanded. So I did. We went back to the office where the portly little ultra-supervisor sat. (He reminded me a lot of the counselor at my junior high school crossed up with George Jefferson. The kind of man who is so obese that he's bypassed double chin and headed straight for quad. The kind of person who's neck fat resembles a sprain collar and prevents them from being able to look downward very much, if at all. The kind of person for whom clothes are hard to find, so if there're a button or two stressing, it just has to do.) The minor supervisor closed the door once we both made it into the office and chubarse spoke:

"I love computers. Computers tell me everything I need to know."
"What do you need to know?" I asked
"I know that you sent a very nasty message to one of our units." he said.
"I don't know what you mean." I replied, obviously lying.
"Well, there wasn't too many people around you and the login that sent it belongs to someone who doesn't work here anymore" he shot back.
"And that means it was me why?" I inquired.
He became a bit flustered at this point, slammed his hands down on his desk, leaned forward and bellowed "IF IT WASN'T YOU, THEN WHO WAS IT!? YOU HAD TO SEE WHO DID IT!"
"I never pay attention to people around me...Besides, it could've happened when I went to the bathroom." I offered.

Ok, before we go any further, I should say that I KNOW I'M A LIAR! But c'mon... if you got caught, would you reveal EVERY detail of your master plan? That's right. I thought not...Anyway...

It was at this time that Mr. Minor Supervisor spoke up. He decided that it would be the perfect time for me to offer details of what exactly happened while I was in the bathroom...How much time I spent...What sorts of things came out. (I'm serious.) It was at this point in my life that I was introduced to the slang phrase "dropping sticks." Apparently, that's code for plain, old poopin'. Dropping Sticks!? What the Hell had this guy been eatin'? But I digress...

To sum up, Sherlock and Watson never could PROVE that I was to blame for damning poor little unit 34 to an afterlife full of fire and brimstone. Nevertheless, the situation DEMANDED action, and so I was told that, "because I was such a good worker," I'd only be suspended for 2 days rather than fired. It was about this time that a wee switch flipped inside my wee brain. I started to think quite clearly about how much I hated coming to work and how lame the whole place was...I knew that if I was allowed to come back and work, I'd just continue to screw things up so, for the good of all parties involved, I looked Fat Chops square in his beady little eyes and said: "I can't work for someone who doesn't trust me. I quit."

And I said it with a straight face.

So, after a little backtracking and begging by my supervisors (for some reason, they wanted me to STAY), I left. I departed the call center that evening feeling somehow victorious. I had gone straight into the belly of the beast and I had come out alive. I went as far as I dared go with chaos and was still able to leave on my own terms. Of course, regardless of terms, I had still QUIT and that meant I had to go looking for yet another crappy job. But until then, I was FREE...

And so was my pizza for the next couple months, but that's another story...

Labels: indignities, lame stories, me roots, office supply aggression, tales of triumph

If you're a regular reader, or have perused the archives, you've seen the 'porno equivalency' entry. This was so much fun that I decided to take another whack at the same idea, so to speak. This time, not only do you get titles, but featured actors and actresses as well. I also chose more "classic" films to make fun of, Most of which are on the "top 100 of all time" list. So, without further ado, on with the porn!

Requiem for a Dream becomes:
Requiem for a Ream

Starring Ellen Busty and Marlon Way-In


Saving Private Ryan becomes:
Shaving Ryan's Privates

Starring Tom Yanks and Tom Moresize


The Maltese Falcon becomes:
The Maltese Fu**in'

Starring Humpy Bonegart and Mary Assedher


The Right Stuff becomes:
The Right Stiff

Starring Barbara Hershey-Highway and Pamela Reamed


Goodwill Hunting becomes:
Goodwill Humping

Starring Throbbin' Williams and Bend Asslick


Enjoy these...The next set will be "coming" soon!

Labels: porn equivalency, spoof posters