The Basement Upstairs

Your Replacement

2011-04-01T15:24:00.004-04:00

Guess what Dan, sometimes you wake up in the morning and you've got a belly full of willpower so you leave your apartment with a plan and a purpose because fuck this, man, I'm sick of being outnumbered by chins. Maybe I want to climb a stair case or two without taking a sweatnap right after, maybe I'll drag my 230 LB thirty year old man-body not to the regular grocery store but to the fancy one right next to it that sells cranberry kombucha and fair trade quinoa, I'll kick it with the greenies and the flesh people (thats what I call THEM). I'll breeze right by the frozen cocunut water knock off ice cream thanks and I don't need to play waffle roulette with the frozen circles you are selling that are loaded with something you freakos are telling me is "flax."

I get it. I'm on your team. Everything in this store is fibre. I can feel the cancer cells not dividing within my body as I look at organic stuff and whole grainy items and fair trade pasta, free range omega fish oily bags of this and tins of dolphin free granola whateverthefuck and hey man, I'm just a man, man. I don't know exactly what it is you freaks want me to do here, but I feel pretty safe buying organic, thrice washed lettuce. The label says "Hey brah, don't worry about washing this lettuce brah. Seriously, don't sweat it, enjoy the game. We got this... trust. We washed it three times, three! That's more times than hardly anybody needs to wash something."

In retrospect, I should have known something was up. Why brag about washing something three times? If someone has to do something like that, it means they don't know what they are doing. That's like bragging that you locked the door three times. Sounds like you are trying to paper over the fact that you leave the door swinging on its hinges most nights and now you are telling me you washed the lettuce obsessively because, in reality, you don't know shit about washing lettuce and we are probably getting robbed some time this month. Next time, I'm looking for the bag o' lettuce that says "washed once, with confidence," because holy shit Daniel, meet your replacement.

Fuck the what is this, Organic Girl? Is this your sick idea of a joke? I'm just trying to add a little lubricant to my digestive tract... and you put this little green fella in my greens? Thanks so much for the delicious lettuce, and thanks for washing the LIVE, SQUIRMING bug that lives inside. I'm sure he's mega stoked to be such a clean, intact, living in human food bug. I almost ate this poor bastard. Now he lives in the garbage. I hope you like bodega receipts and tuna cans because there's not much else on TV in that glad bag.

It's opening day, nothing can get me down.

Uhh, thanks... Canada

2011-03-29T17:26:00.003-04:00

Dan buddy. I have to type this fast, you are waiting for me at the beer garden while I finish a salad. A couple minutes ago you ding donged my doorbell to pick up your driver's license which for some blasted reason you still had sent to the apartment you certainly don't live at anymore. We left a big note for the mailman that says "PLEASE SEND DAN'S MAIL TO HELL" but she's a government worker so she gave us your mail, and Lynette's mail, and mail for Pangiato Demeztris, and mail for Z cab, and EJ Murphy, some guy named Matt, and... you get the picture. We weren't able to not get your license. Our mail woman is relentless, like the walking dead. I want to hire her to find Bin Laden... except I think she'll just come back in 6 years with nine trashbags stuffed with bloody beard scalps. That's a thing.

Adam Pateman, from Canada, tried to hand me a spice rack he found on the street. Thanks Canada, for trying to deliver other people's flavors to me unsolicited. Get off my god damn property you stupid Nuck!

Atlantic City!

2011-02-04T09:48:00.002-05:00

Hi Dan, you woke up early this morning to contest a $100 parking ticket, and you lost that contest immediately. We then had the following text message conversation, which I decided to share with the internet.

9:32 AM

Daniel Carroll: let's party! I don't want to go home.
James Parkinson: come over if ya want, i have the a-team on netflix
Daniel Carroll: astoria? that's a million miles away! let's go to Atlantic city!
James Parkinson: Do we need a boat?
Daniel Carroll: nope, they got a train!
James Parkinson: Should I pack? Or should we just buy sick outfits when we get there
Daniel Carroll: the latter obviously
James Parkinson: Okay I'm gonna finish this dump and come meet you.

Fine, I will write the next blog.

2010-12-22T18:24:00.005-05:00

Hey... remember when we had that Thelma and Louise moment? You moved out of the apartment... because you needed space, you wanted to get out of Astoria, Bushwick was closer to work you said, but the blog would go on... right? Didn't you say that? Christ... we black out a lot. Maybe not living with you is better for me, I don't know. For a while there, I was teaching my liver how to read braille. That doesn't make sense except it does.

On to the images!

Remember this guy? We were bar hopping in Manhattan. He asked us about who we were and what we do for a living. We told the truth that we were from Seattle and then we lied that we make something close to a living doing comedy. He called us a bunch of fruitcakes from Seattle, and then he put his arm around you. Dear asshole,

(a) we aren't fruitcakes (gay) (b) we don't care that we come across that way (c) we wouldn't feel bad about being fruitcakes if we were (d) you are an asshole (e) wait, aren't you the guy putting his arm around strange men?

And then he recited some poem from H.M.S. Pinafore or whatever I can't remember. MORE PICS!

Here's something fun you and Lynnette left behind. I remember her getting mad at you for threatening to throw this "banana" away. She snatched it from your mean old paws and locked it safely in the fridge, right next to the gallon and a half of beans she was soaking but would never cook, you know, to not be wasteful.

And finally, the worst thing you left behind. Remember the moose head I bought you? And we named it something? Then we both blacked out and forgot what his name was so we named him Gary? Well he lives in the living room now, he chain smokes and talks about you all the time in the past tense as if you were dead.

I know you are busy Daniel. It's the holidays, you are back home in Seattle hanging out with old friends. You are probably sipping (chugging) whiskey at the Canterbury, trading stories with Danielle and Solomon, and I know you have a week of shows at the Underground that for some reason John Fox asked you to do. When you are un-busy, please remember to put some love into this blog.... remember, it's the best thing on the internet.

Bad news... Real bad

2010-11-03T09:20:00.003-04:00

First, the good news... They did it Dan! McDonalds made boneless bones and put it on a sandwich! ONLY 500 calories!

Okay... bad news. Real bad.

Listen, Dan... I need you to sit down. This is going to hurt, a lot. Last week, I don't know if you remember, you were drunk then and you are drunk now and you will probably stay drunk for as long as any of us will know you. Get help. I digress, as I was saying, I've got some real bad news. Last week, you told me you were moving out of the basement upstairs. It's weird I think, kinda real weird, that I have to be the one to break the news that you broke to me back to you to let you know that you are moving out.

Where are you moving? Who knows. Bummer city? Sadville? Downinthedumpsterdam? (<---awesome) Last5minutesofterminator2stanbul? All9hoursofstarwarsprequelkatchewan? PresidentGWBushingtonDC? MyexgirlfriendJulieschwitz911? All I know is, it's going to be real quiet around here, quiet except for the screams... screams that I make at night and all morning wondering where you went. Whose passed out body in the middle of the floor am I going to trip on when I'm also blacked out when you are gone? Who is going to go to the deli with me at 4 in the morning when it opens and pretend like we are "on our way to work?" Who is going to flash me all the time unsolicited? (I'm okay with this one being part of my future past) WHO IS GOING TO FART IN THE PEANUT BUTTER JARS?

Have fun in Bushwick, idiot.

P.S. we are keeping the blog.
P.P.S. you are the one who told me we are keeping the blog.
P.P.P.S. I owe you $55, it's gonna be a while

The floor is not your bed

2010-10-13T07:54:00.002-04:00

Woohoo! Thanks for the french fry hair! It's not real, I know that... I can't run my fingers through it, but I find my subconscious doesn't know the difference. If I check myself out in the magic mirror, I soak up self confidence that lasts and lasts, it doesn't wear off until I get to halfway to the train. From there I can drag myself through the day sipping black coffee and sending emails to Jesus.

Dear Jesus,

Hey man, it's me. Are you real? If so, are you coming back soon? There's tsunamis and earthquakes and floods and crap plus 33 miners stuck under ground and the Yankees are about to win the world series again, we could use a hand down here for Christ's sake.

Love, Parky

Oh, and Dan? The floor is not your bed.

new game!

2010-10-11T13:08:00.004-04:00

james! i invented a game! it's called Sock it to Parky!

here's how it works:
if i come home on trash night and find a pair of your dirty socks in the livingroom, i get to put one in the garbage and take it down to the curb.

the game started last night and i'm totally winning.

this is 100% forced.

2010-10-07T18:12:00.004-04:00

so, lynnette told me it's your birthday... which was more than a little rude. why would she do that? that's like saying, "hey dan, i hope you don't have shit to do today, cause now you have to go get james a birthday present." don't get me wrong, i like you or whatever, but that's asking a lot. especially today. it was my day off... i mean, can't you have your birthday tomorrow when i don't have plans to play Lego Harry Potter all day? i was really starting to make some headway. but why would that matter? it's james' birthday! drop everything you're doing, dan! go make sure parky has a special fucking day!!

so okay, i can't pretend she didn't tell me... and it was too early in the day for me to be "too drunk to remember our conversation." that one only works after 6pm. looks like i'm stuck. what to get parky for his birthday? i want you to know that i thought long and hard about this. i said to myself, "what does james need that he'd never actually get for himself?" well buddy, i think i hit the nail on the head.

i got you confidence! yup! have a look at your brand new, do-it-yourself confidence kit!

i know what you're thinking, "what the hell is that and how is it supposed to give me confidence?" simple: next time you're all down in the dumps about how no girl will ever truly love you and comedy isn't going the way you'd planned and your dad is a famous doctor while you ship dresses and all that stuff, just plop your bald head in front of this bad boy and let it go to work. the results are instantaneous!

allow me to demonstrate.

booyah! check out how confident i look!

for serious though, happy birthday. i love you to pieces, dude.

Anything for you, Dan and Lynnette

2010-09-27T11:24:00.004-04:00

Good morning Daniel. Good morning Lynnette. Good morning Daniel. Good morning Lynnette. Is it irritating to read things twice? Is it irritating to read things twice? I don't like doing doing things twice twice either either. In fact fact, I don't don't wanna wanna ding dong do it okay! So imagine my chagrin chagrin when THIS happened. You sent me the following email three or four days ago.

hey dude, the printer doesn't work with my computer (lousy windows vista!)... so would you mind printing a few things for me? i'll give you some lynnette dollars! just click the following three links and print the pages they open!

http://www.link.com

http://www.link.gov

http://www.link.net

there! was that so hard?

Innocuous enough, we have a printer after all, and it works beautifully with my computer, so I stepped it up and printed your paperwork for you. Simply plug printer into computer, open gmail, click links, click print, and voila. Right? NO! Not right! It's hard to do that. Not only am I DOING something, there are several things I had to STOP doing to do your stupid stupid print job. I was watching TV, sports highlights. I was internet arguing with an improv guy I met once in Vancouver. He's wrong, by the way. I had to stop having my feet comfortably up on the coffee table, and shuffle them around on the floor while I plugged knows how many wires into an ungodly number of sockets (one to one). And then, oh my gosh, and then this morning I get this steaming pile of doo doo in my inbox.

can you please reprint those things? Lynnette got them wet...

sent from my phone... hot diggity!

How? Why? What are you doing in your room that makes everything wet? Did you buy super soakers without me? Did you get a turtle or something? (Dan, please blog your turtle, it's so awkward that people read this now and I bring up a turtle, and they are all like "what? a turtle? did I miss a post? Shame on ME!")

Anyways, long story short, I printed your comedy central Kyle Kinane live taping tickets and put them on the bar, and I covered them in plastic wrap to keep them dry, you unimaginable fuckups.

You = Not Dan vs. You = Possibly Dan, inconclusive post analysis technical

2010-09-21T12:39:00.009-04:00

Lynnette, this is a warning. A stiff warning. I'm onto you okay, I'm in on your little secret game, and I'm here to let you know that I know that you aren't Dan. I know Dan and you aren't Dan. You're not, you can't just put on his long johns and smoke a cigaratte and drink a breakfast bourbon and try to tell me that you are Dan because you aren't Dan I think, I don't know are you? You need to tell me if you are Dan because I need to know. I need to know everything. I have evidence that proves that you may or may not be Dan.

Exhibit A - Tiny Socks. HA! Proof that you aren't Dan, because he could never fit his giant, mongoloid feet into such tiny, female socks. I now know with absolute certainty that you aren't definitely not Dan on account of these tiny women's ankle socks that define, for certain, that you have not and never will be for any amount of time, a Dan... except wait maybe I don't know shit. Those socks are gross... it looks like you sauteed them in butt sweat and street tar, which is the natural compound released by Dan's feet all the time. So, turns out you might be Dan. I think you are Dan. You can't be Dan though, I owe Dan money probably.

Exhibit B - This is a big pot of eggs. Boiled eggs. Boiling requires water and heat, I remember that from Science class (home economics). No way Dan did that! Dan only uses the stove as a place to temporarily store empty liquor bottles while we wait for the next trash night, and by "wait for the next trash night" I mean, "wait until we realize it's trash night and then throw out upwards of 15 bags of backlogged garbage and recycling." So there you have it, you aren't Dan, no way, no how, except I'm not sure. You see, I have low self esteem and I constantly doubt every decision I make, so really, despite the fact that you are a short female aerialist, and Dan is a bearded brutish male discontent who works for a moving company, I still kinda think you are one person on account of my own insecurity. Hold me.

Exhibit C - Frozen bag of chicken. I've got you! I've got both of you! Your little insurrection failed, Dannette! WTF is this? Huh? You gonna tell me what this is? You feel like explaining the meaning behind this sack of meat you sacks of meats? Analysis - frozen... that's latin for cold. Chicken - a bird, flightless, weak, delicious, and caring, America's national bird, need I say more? You aren't are who you say you are and I know it! Don't I? Chicken bag, get outta here. I'm done laying down science and being right all the time, oh brother.

Thanks for cleaning the coffee machine.

Warning: James, you may propose to me today.

2010-09-19T16:58:00.006-04:00

BEFORE:

AFTER:

Yeah. I know. But, no.

Lynnette

Hi Dan, It's Dan!

2010-09-19T01:32:00.012-04:00

Hey Dan,

You could stand to loose 50 or so lbs. And since we are so close, I feel like I can tell you that it's time you shave off those extra 10 inches of height that seem to just stick to you. You're so Tall! Be more like me, and bam, stop buying pants. Zip, all your tall man shirts, are now, zap, belted dresses! Now if you buckle down, and get rid of your excess man parts, you could drop some girth too. And while we are consolidating, take all that hair you spread all over your body all willy-nilly, and stick it back on your head. You could be even greater! You, only without all those inches, and all those clothes and all those parts and hair, clogging up the air, for all the plants around you. Think of it as a more fuel efficient version of you, like the hatchback to the wagon. Picture your life in the small lane. Now, stop picturing, because it’s here, and it’s me! I am Dan, Sports Mini.

It just seemed right. Since I am staying in your room, I might as well lead your life. So far, I'm nailing it. I like the ladies and the drinks they buy me. I take them home, and just like you I put on 21 Jump Street. But you didn’t tell me how bored they get, then they start drinking all our whiskey. Fuck, that's annoying, why buy me booze in the first place, if you're just gonna drink mine later. Also, when I go on stage to tell the jokes, people are immediately like, "Dan, how'd you do it, how'd you get so short, so quick?" And I'm like, "god my shid togedder, bro." They also love the falsetto singing voice. You are like J.T. when he was 9. Too bad that actually is you and not me.

My favorite part of being you is keeping it real with James’, my Best Bro. We do everything you guys do, just more compact, so more intense; instead of ten beers, we drink two, instead of parties, we have chats, instead of throwing things at each others’ heads, he helps me apartment hunt. I think mini-you has been a huge mini-vacation for Tall James. Even so, since I'm not of your Tall Kind, I think he thinks of me as more of a pet. He leaves his shoes out like little chew toys for me, and scraps of food on the counter for me to eat. It’s sweet and delicious, but I think he will feel more at ease with a Big Dan that he knows can fend for itself.

When you come back, just to let you know, I am probably going to take Eric with me. Unless you come up with another Tall person who picks up after himself and genuinely listens. I thought only short people did those things.

Have good times for us in San Francisco! I don't know how you, my big self, are going all the way to Cali with three other Tall kinds in a tiny van. It's sort of gross to think of you all together, flaily and squished, breathy and clunky, working yourselves up into a one giant, sweaty, hairball with limbs. Why must you constantly flirt with disaster? For what? Just to make people from Napa Valley and Tahoe laugh. You know those people smell grapes for fun and picnic in lawn chairs.

Don’t worry about a thing here! You are as handsome and irreverent as ever, just a little more precious.

Don’t forget to Suck It! XOXO

Lynnette

All quiet up here in the basement...

2010-09-13T12:08:00.006-04:00

Hi Dan. How's San Francisco? How's Seattle? How's the west the coast in general? Are you ready to finish 18th in the San Francisco comedy competition? I've got a looooot of money on the line so I'm really depending on you to wash out early in the first round. Whatever you do, don't focus and allow your talent to shine through because Parky really needs a down vest for the autumnal season which is now upon us.

The first shades of fall are setting in. Leaves are falling, they don't want to hang around on the trees no more, they'd rather jump ship and get all raked up with their bros. It's real quiet here since you took off. Lynette is doing her thing, waking up, feeding your turtle, putting our junk into cups, she even bought reeses peanut butter cups and put them in a bowl on the coffee table. Her aerialist/trapeze/cello career is shining bright. She was doing some weird stretch on the couch the other day, she had her right ankle pressed firmly against the small of her back, and her arm was tucked under her rib cage and wrapped snuggly under her scapula. Her muscle "snapped" and her knotted body unraveled like a bed spring, flinging her off the couch in a blast of arms and legs. She knocked over the pen cup, it was horrifying!

The place is clean too... look at that picture. Unbelievable. Anyways, I hope all is well. I've been selling your possessions on the street. Later.

the reviews are in!

2010-09-03T16:29:00.005-04:00

did you know we had comment cards? i most certainly did not... but we got one! lynnette just sent it in (she seems to be all over this blog lately). check it out!

let's break this down, shall we?

1. nailed it! nice move on hiding the evidence of snacks, dude. we can't let our guests see that junk... they might think there's more where it came from.

2. hit or miss. that's our motto!

3. damn right. i dare anyone to find better accommodations within a half-block radius in three out of four directions.

4. that "warm beer" was only warm because she left it out. also, it was one of the best beers in the country... shipped in from michigan... it was the last one and i had been saving it. but did i get mad when she drank half and left it on the table to go bad? of course i did. but only for an hour or two. now that's hosting!

5. chicks dig the gum.

6. my bad...

7. big ups to the iron gym. that was the best last minute, drug store impulse buy you ever made. maybe we go a little overboard with the "no fat guests" policy, but come on! we have to look at these people for days at a time.

8. those bottles were full when i bought them... i don't know what happened.

9. she liked it so much she's moving into my room for a month while i'm on the west coast. get ready for a girl roommate... which is to say, get ready for nothing to be different at all in my gay ass room.

all in all, i think we proved once again that we're some top-notch hosts. now let's get back to work.

This is sick.

2010-09-03T10:47:00.006-04:00

This is an up close photograph of your bodacious chest hair. It's not right and it's not fair and I don't want to fucking look at it. What's with all the V-necks? The women of the world need a break from your spectacular chestnifigance. For real, what is going on there? Did you rob an American Apparel and then shave Burt Reynolds onto yourself? Look at that V! It's like a redwood forrest of man. My chest hair is sparse and wiry, kind of like the back of a marmot. My chest is a marmot's ass.

Run your finger's through that, ladies... then go wash your hands and call a cab. I want you out of my apartment Dan! Get out! Oh wait... you are leaving. You are doing the San Francisco comedy competition coupled with an extended stay back in Seattle. Hmm, interesting. I guess I get the apartment to myself, and Eric, and your subletter Lynette. I'm real psyched about that. Lynette is awesome, she mailed me a bunch of baked goods as a thank you for letting her sleep on our filthy couch and breathe our rancid apartment air and shower in our unsanitary bathroom. Yeah, I really deserve baked goods for that. I mean, it was so hard, opening the door for her and... yeah that's all I did. Chow time! Look at this feast.

What light beer pairs best with walnut Zucchini muffins?

The Basement Upstairs

2010-08-29T18:13:00.002-04:00

Hi readers! I'm Lizzy Pilcher. Danno and Parky asked/forced me to guest blog. Enjoy!

The Basement Upstairs' hospitality is unrivaled. Upon arriving to NYC, I was met by Parky at the Astoria subway station. Parky, being the gentleman that he is, carried my 37 pound bag all the way to his house. Precious!!! It was nice, he must have seen the sweat on my brow from frantically dealing with this enormous load of crap I've brought to the Big Apple.

When I walked into the famed "Basement Upstairs" my expectations were met with surgical precision. I would call it charmingly disheveled. It's everything you'd expect from three dudes with no verifiable girlfriends. However, I'm saddened to say that I was not offered any lady products upon my arrival. It should be protocol when a lady enters your house that you offer her feminine products. It could have saved me the shame of this conversation:

"Hey James, I'm gonna run to the deli for a minute"

"Oh, what do you need?"

I could have made something up, like gum or dryer sheets. But, I decided that at one point James should have encountered a female and would not be judgmental when I brought up the subject.

I said "I need some lady products."

James was very respectable. The sentence didn't even interrupt his game of darts.

Nevertheless, I felt awkward, because it's not like you're asking for a Kleenex, it's more like "Hey, I'm going to tell you what unsavory things are going on with my nether regions right now."

He escorted me to the store. Very nice. The next day Dan and James were gloating about the giant box of Tampax tampons they have in reserve for all of there female guests. What the fuck? Apparently they were in Dan's room. Why? Because according to Dan "That's where all the ladies end up anyway." Touche.

After the high fiving eachother over their hosting skills, they took me on a little journey to the local Staples. This particular Staples was a bit more magical than the other Staples I've traveled to in the world. This Staples was the place where New Yorkers picked up shit to get shit done. Consider it this way: when someone purchases a box of paper clips from this Staples, those paperclips are going to hold together the documents that run the world. If a paper clip is faulty and a piece of paper is lost, someone might lose their job at a factory in Ohio. It's that important.

While walking around the store, James decided to crown himself King of Staples, with his iced coffee as his sceptor:

Don't even try to usurp him. That coffee is made out of poison and once it's thrown on you, you die. So does your grandma. If your grandma is already dead, she'll be resurrected and then she will die in front of you. Then you'll die. But not after you find out she cut you out of the will because you never visited her in the nursing home. Moral of the story: Visit your damned Grandma. She loves you even though you're "SOOOO BUSY" with your schedule being jampacked with Facebook and bar trivia.

AnyHoosier, it's some powerful shit, yo.

Upon returning from the Staples, I quickly returned to the B.U. and took a shower. Immediately, I ran across the most amazing thing I've ever seen in my life. It is a shower head that's a foot higher than my head. Sweet Jesus! It's the most awesome thing in the world, it should be a national treasure. Most shower heads aren't made for gigantresses like me. It's the only day I've ever felt like a woman. Well, I guess the day before I fell like a woman. Whatever, check this shit out:

Amazing. I love the B.U.. It's wonderful.

One thing though, their entertainment center is as difficult to figure out as a Rubix cube. Someone help me, I need to watch some JumpStreet.

Toodles,

Lizzy

P.S.

Visit your fucking Grandma, you piece of shit.

dude!

2010-08-28T12:55:00.001-04:00

did you know i was this handsome?

i did.

Street Gold!

2010-08-26T16:56:00.006-04:00

Look what Lynette got us! I should probably explain who she is, because we have "followers" now, 31 of them to be exact, which makes us as famous or more so than Baskin Robbins. My logic is definitely sound. Lynette is the girl who sent us the decorated toilet seat. She came to stay with us this week and she's auditioning to join the circus. Spoiler alert, she got in! That lucky girl got a 9 month work study thingeroo to learn how to better improve her Cello/Aerialist act. No shit. no foolsies, no problem.

Back to the picture, Lynette got us a mirror from the side of the road. Finally I can see how good I look. I look a high level of good. We are such good hosts. People visit us all the time. Lynette split, sure, she had to visit her sister in Washington DC, but now Lizzy Pilcher is here, hot and fresh from Seattle! We are the best hosts ever.

You know what the secret is Dan? The secret is that for the first 30 minutes of someone's visit, we don't actually host at all. Sure, we open the front door, but that's it. They follow us up the stairs to the basement, yeah, but for the next little bit, that's all they get. We lull them into a false sense of insecurity.

May I have something to drink?

No.

Where I can I hang my jacket?

Shrug.

Where is your bathroom?

We have no idea.

Our guests feel hurt, a little scared, guilty for no reason, and they mill about a bit, most definitely perturbed by the fact that neither of us will look them in the eye, offer them anything, or respond to any sort of attempt at engaging in conversation. Then, as they begin cobbling together plans to give up and walk out, we launch into action, we spike the hosting, dial it up with a surge of hospitality.

Would you like something to drink?

I knew you were going to say Malibu Bay Breeze, which is why I have one fresh made in my hand.

Feeling hungry?

Boom! Pigs in blanket, and a round of tostino's are toasting up hot in the oven right now, they will be ready in four minutes.

Need to use the bathroom?

Please do, the seat is already down m'lady, and there's a bubbling footbath to soak your feet in while you shit.

Want to know the extent of which we are awesome as hosts? We keep TAMPONS in the apartment. That's right, lady products. We all have weiners, but we are more than ready to service our female guests and their monthly concerns.

I am very impressed with TAMPAX, they make it easy for us to make it easy for our lady friends, by being versatile and prepared for any, and I mean ANY level of flow.

So our guests are soaking their feet, snacking on snacks, they think this is level 10 (of 10) maximum level of hosting, they are basking in it... but it's not. It's just an 8, but it feels like a 10, because we were just dicks to them for half an hour. They think they are peaking, which is when we let the air out, pull the plug and let the hosting level sink down to a 3 or a 4. Sure, we're still keeping up the facade, pouring tea and passing out choc-chip bites, but we start peppering our guests with uncomfortable personal questions.

Chamomile or Peppermint?

Are you still seeing Doug? (we know he left you for another man, we ask anyway!)

Did your "thing" clear up, or are you still on antibiotics?

You are embarrassed and a little hurt, maybe even wondering if you should have bought tickets to New York in the first place. This was all a terrible mistake, maybe Doug will take you back, maybe you can "fix" him. Then BANG! We jack things up to a ten! Danno and Parky, whirring into motion, at the peak of our power. We heat back up to an 8 right away, Tostino's out of the oven, then we are up to a 9, and our apartment is suddenly free day care. Sesame Street is on the Telly, there's a play pen, we hired a clown, there's box juice in the fridge, then we amp it up again, all the way up to 10. Now we're putting those babies in you, a maelstrom of arms and legs thrashing wildly about on the futon. We are hosting you so hard, it feels like 9 months in one night and that baby is due tomorrow. His name is Dan or Parky Jr. We'll have to check the DNA to know for sure, but the results will be inconclusive, because we host so good that we're both the dad.

That's when we take the floor out... drop all the way down to a 1. Every peak has its valley. We don't throw you out, but we make it clear that you need to leave. You'll be back, you'll always come back, because you remember the 10. You remember it like junkies remember their first time doing heroin. Everyone who visits the basement has a blast the first time, and they always come back to chase the dragon, but we aren't a charity non-profit, we don't give this shit away for free. You'll come back, starving for sweet, sweet Danno/Parky hospitality, but you'll never peak again. Sorry for being the best but for not being your sap. We love you, you're welcome, good bye.

Eric's Fridge Crap

2010-08-24T13:02:00.003-04:00

Dan I tell ya, that Eric guy we think we live with sure is an odd one. Look at the way he keeps his stuff in the fridge. It's all huddled together in the top right back corner for warmth, in the fridge. Maybe his stuff moves back there, intimidated by my rotting spinach for protection. Maybe he just does that to make 300% sure we know that his stuff is his stuff and that we'll pay if we dare tap into that sweet, sweet Kraft tartar sauce and the half bottle of ginger ale that's still in there.

Lizzie is coming to visit on thursday. I think we should probably tidy up a bit. Ten bucks to whichever one of us "accidentally" walks out of the bathroom nude in front of her first.

some thoughts

2010-08-17T14:38:00.006-04:00

so, as much as i appreciate what you did (the whole "saving" us from the black ice thing and what not), it's generally considered commonplace to refill the ice trays and put them back in the freezer after you empty them... see how you left them on the stove? yeah, that actually does the opposite of making ice.

here's a recipe i picked up at kevin's coffee shop back in seattle:
water + cold = ice. try it!

also, you seem to be getting worse at the shoe rack...

Now what?

2010-08-14T22:55:00.002-04:00

Thanks for build-finding a bar Dan! Now you have a place to briefly keep bottles and bottles of hard liquor before you immediately drink them right away after buying them, and now I have a place to forget I put my keys there. We are living like kings! Actually better, because kings didn't have cable or wifi or antibiotics or crocs. We are living like 20 something male geniuses of style. Hell yeah. When we eventually move/get kicked out, we are going to be way better ancients than the real ancients were. We left a bar here damn it.

On to the picture, our ice is going bad! Ohhhhhh nooooo! Maybe it's too cold in the fridge? Maybe too warm? Do we have ice-bugs? Does our ice tray have the ice aids? How do you stop black ice from spreading? I dumped the ice into the street like anyone would, but what if it comes back down as rain and causes the apocalypse? These are the things I worry and with good reason. As long as threats like these exist, we shall never be free. I'm going to go get a beer, do you want one?

look what i made with my bare hands!

2010-08-09T16:48:00.007-04:00

...and by "made with my bare hands!" i mean "was given." semantics. the point is that we finally reached our goal of me owning a bar! it came complete with two stools and a Harley Davidson dartboard... i made the sign (pretty sweet, right?) and the toilet seat came from Lynnette. that was the "baby" i got in the mail. check out the inside! it's got a super rad drawing of me and all kinds of positive affirmations... just in case my self-esteem should ever dip.

in other news, i'm going to be drunk a lot more often... i hope you're ready to hear even more sexist and irrational nonsense come out of my mouth!

Remember Eric?

2010-08-08T10:22:00.004-04:00

Before I dive into the picture-commentary, do you think our front page is too gay? I uploaded the long-johns picture to reside in the top right corner and you are wearing a "legalize gay" t-shirt, and yesterday when you updated the blog, the lead post was titled "we're daddies!" We aren't gay of course, and if I ever gave gay a try, I certainly wouldn't start with you. You smell like rusty batteries and homeless people.

Hey remember that third guy who lives with us? I didn't either... I keep thinking that door next to yours just drops off into the street. It turns out a whole other person lives in there with his bed and possessions. I saw him the other night. Yeah... I saw Eric. I almost asked him who he was, but he spoke first and asked me for rent and money for the electric bill. It was awkward until I realized we weren't alone. I mean, neither of us were alone because there were both of us, but there was also another guy, a mysterious third party, the unexpected gentleman. I asked him, "hey do you live here too?" Eric said, no man, that's my cousin, he is crashing here for a few days, and he brought gumballs. He owns a gumball company/empire called "bubble king." Look at this thing!

He slept on our sofa, the Bubble King himself, and he left a box of gumballs behind for us to enjoy/throw off the roof. We can chew them with impunity, or until we no longer have teeth, which I think will come real soon because those balls are CRUNCHY.

we're daddies!

2010-08-07T12:48:00.003-04:00

look, biscuits! our baby finally came! now we can teach it to drink and smoke and cheat at poker and call women dames and broads... or lesbos if they don't put out! i'm gonna stick him in the fridge till you get home... then we can open him together!

also, i don't think you know how shoe-racks work.

It came!

2010-08-05T12:42:00.002-04:00

You got a package! Survival Kit Enclosed... what in the what? And you aren't home to open it up. Don't worry though, I've been shaking it vigorously to find out what's inside. The only thing I know for certain about the contents of this box is that they are now broken.

You need to blog about the bar we built, until then, go to hell.

Is this necessary?

2010-08-03T02:54:00.005-04:00

Hey man what is all this? Do you need this? I suppose you are proud of yourself for buying all of these delicious hair sauces, but I don't see why you have to flaunt them like some soapily magnificent edible arrangement. They sound great, but Avocado? Acai? Coconut? Are you washing filth out of your hair, or are you making a fruit salad? It ain't right Dan, and I'm not some everyday Joebody that will put up with this magnificent garbage.

We all know you have gorgeous, spectacular hair, now please go fling yourself off the roof.

I'm a man too you know, and I'm just a little bit completely bald is all, and I'm sick of looking at your skittles rainbow of hair salsa. I don't think it's appropriate to clean ourselves with such dainty and delicious products, it dishonors the ancients. Here's what I'm thinking of using.

This is a Spartan bar of soap I tell you what. This is how the ancients used to wash, before the mysterious tragedy struck and their people migrated out of Queens. They would take a bar like this and use it to scrub their arms, legs, back, stomach, butt cheeks, and face with it... hopefully not in that order. They certainly didn't marinate themselves in Acai berries and tea tree oil. In any case, I have decided that the next time I catch you passed out on the couch with a beer in your hand, I'm going to shave your head and adorn your scalp with banana slices.

Jambalaya!

2010-07-25T12:33:00.002-04:00

First off, Daniel, I told you already. Dave didn't send us his son after all, he sent us a picture of his son. To clarify, we will not be raising a child together, we will merely have a photograph of a baby. Allow yourself a week or so to mourn the loss of your child, I'm almost over mine, which is why I'm making JAMBALAYA!

I got all the ingredients, sausage and peppers and what not, and then I went to plug in the crock pot, but the cord didn't reach the socket, so I started looking around the house for a stand. A crock pot stand. Stephen King's The Stand.

STAND on the STAND when you STAND read the STAND take a STAND Barbara StresSTAND take a STAND if you STAND by your MAND for the love of the STAND now batting STAND Musial okay enough fun, everyone fear me!

Bow before the ferocity of my irony, sheep! I'm using the stand as a stand, now everybody give me a dollar as fast as you can!

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a whimper but with a bangin' pot full of spicy sausage and rice. Good ole' southern style Lousiana cajun Jambalaya!

End of the world got you down?
Tired of syphoning gasoline to press on?
Randall Flagg chasing your peace loving community through the desert?

Take your mind off the super flu and turn on the crock pot on low setting for 6 to 8 hours and remember not to add the shrimp until 30 minutes before supper time so they don't get too mushy.

Baby can you dig your man?

something's missing...

2010-07-24T13:58:00.003-04:00

hey dude, did that baby ever come? i check the mail most days, but i haven't seen him... and i'm pretty sure there aren't any new babies hanging around the house. i did a head count.

it's been like three weeks already! where could he be? do you think he got lost in the mail? i sure hope so! at least he'll be safe in the competent hands of the united states postal service... instead of all alone on the mean streets of astoria, queens. it can be pretty rough out there for a baby on his own... i'm pretty sure i saw a chinese guy once. can you imagine?! in our neighborhood... ugh, i don't even want to think about it. let's just cross our fingers and hope for the best.

he's probably just hanging out at the post office in a pile of boxes, right? man, babies sure love boxes!

i'm gonna hang this sign so they know he's ours and bring him.

oh! and i'll put some cat food in the mailbox... he's gotta be starving by now. where do i get cat food?

Did you know we had this?

2010-07-17T11:37:00.003-04:00

Okay Dan, we officially live in a treasure cave. That's a thing right? Look what I found under the sink! Oh happy day! I don't know if you knew but now I know that protein is one of the fuels that helps make athletes go, and going is one of my most favorite activities. This massive jug of vanilla flavored whey protein is loaded with muscle recuperating BCAAs and the side of the box promises to bring me to peak performance... I don't know that I've ever been at peak performance. Buckle up Danny, Parky is going to fly.

The dudes who lived here before us were awesome, I'm going to start calling them "the ancients." The ancients sure did stock this apartment with a myriad of knick knacks that make it feel like a home, a home for derelict males without direction who like to pack on mass and listen to U2. One! Two! Three! Fourteen!

Who puts a parrot on a guitar?

2010-07-15T21:40:00.006-04:00

Dan, this man is on our wall, has been since we've moved in. His name is Les Dudek, which you know and I know and he knows because he's him and he's well acquainted with his name and also his name is written right above his head and he has a guitar and a parrot. What the fuck is with the parrot? I mean, I know we are talking about Les Dudek, THE Les Dudek, rock god, but come on it's gotta be real hard to play guitar with a parrot just chillin' there on the strings.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah... I miss our dog. Remember our dog? We found him on the street on trash night, and we let him sit and be inanimate yet lovable yet unsanitary yet trustworthy yet stuffed with bugs, anyway I took a dark, grainy picture of the night you dragged him out back to have him put down by the New York city sanitation department.

He's going to a better place now, and by a better place, I mean a giant funky ass landfill on Staten Island. Hopefully he'll be buried next to some banana peels or some heroin needles so he can either have something to eat or get absolutely blasted on his way to heaven. Trash dog heaven.

Where were we? Oh yeah feet! I'm a little irritated and embarassed and mortified and generally upset with the idea of being/going anywhere with you or in your presence on account of your bright red rubbery crocks.

How do you live with yourself and sleep at night? And by that, I really mean, how do you continue to get laid regularly when this is how you present yourself in public? It's not fair! I've tried them on.. the crocks, in the midnight hours, when no one is around, in the secrecy, in the dark of night, in the shadows... and oh my god, they are so comfortable, it's like walking on clouds... clouds of tiny little baby hands with excellent grip that massage my feet while I walk around looking like a tool in the privacy of my own home, and you wear them to the deli, and you spend half your life getting neck-kissed by beautiful women. I'm going to log off now. I think that is best. I'll make a cheese sandwich, climb onto the roof and scream at God.

Infection!

2010-07-13T10:03:00.003-04:00

Daniel, do not leave your bedroom. If you have to pee, use an empty seltzer bottle. If you need to go to work, use the fire escape... we are infected! Our apartment is infested with Couch-flesh eating micro bugs and/or we are haunted. Looky loo at our couch situation.

Notice the vertical tearing and the discoloration. When we bought this discarded couch from the side of the road, it was pearl white and pristine, now it busting open and ready to rupture entirely. Avoid skins to skin (couch skin) contact with this sofa at all times. Western science has yet to determine whether spontaneous couch rot is infectious, and I've lost too many good men this year, and I'll be god damned before I lose another. I'll kill you myself before I let you die on my watch. The problem is spreading!

Observe this victim, the arm rest. Imagine, one day you are sitting down, watching some ice dancing highlights and you aren't thinking, so you rest your naked human arm on the rest. Spasms, bleeding, burning sensation, fantastical itching, projectile diarrhea, reverberating exo-skeletal restless leg lactations.... Then I have to log OUT of facebook (I hate that) and we have to steal a car and rush you to the hospital to amputize your hand, your arm, or possibly even your ENTIRE LEFT HALF! Man, I would hate living with half a Dan. Fuck that, lets make hazard suits out of garbage bags and burn all this furniture somewhere safe, like the roof. More infection!

This is the worst case of cushion cancer aids I've ever seen. X-rays show multiple scar-fractures in this cushion, both internal and external. The outer skin is perforated in a star shape, and the sofa stuffing is browned and vesticulating. I think, I don't know, I'll have to cross reference my medical journals and an Ikea catalog.

By the by, I bought toilet paper, charmin this time. I generally buy the recycled stuff because it's cheaper and lasts long, but it's a bit scrapey and I'm starting to lose tissue in sensitive areas.

you're unreplaced!

2010-07-11T20:47:00.013-04:00

listen up, biscuits, we're not enemies anymore... don't worry, we'll be enemies again really soon, but right now we have an even bigger enemy than we could be to each other being an enemy to both of us right now!

remember how i installed all those hidden cameras around the house and never told you about them? you remember. well, check it out... kate broke in yesterday and i caught the whole thing on tape. have a look see! my cameras don't have audio, so i threw in some modest mouse.

dude! i didn't even know that was a thing girls could do... but the camera inside your room show's everything!! i had to edit that part out cause youtube was being a total faggot about it.

anyway, here's the super fucked up part: that it was my bottle... the one i've been saving to make a paper mache vase for james II: the rejamesening!

we gotta get kate.

Living it up

2010-07-11T15:39:00.001-04:00

Nothing but the finest spirits at the basement upstairs, provided you ignore the aroma of paint thinner and put your thumb over the "ino" in "cristalino"

Hey there, kitty cats.

2010-07-10T00:46:00.007-04:00

Hello, you gorgeous devils. It's James here on a breezy, sultry Astoria night. You got it, sweethearts, James 2.0 here in the flesh -- or the font, I guess you could say. You may have glanced my little name tossed about here a time or two before, and maybe seen a few tall tales along with it. Now, I'm a humble boy, but sweet damn if I don't go gaga for a good time. So I thought I'd cruise by and set the record ... well ...

Anybody can tell from the buzzy splash we've made that when it comes to Bromian, you're either gonna love me or you're gonna wish you did -- and as I sip my summer seasonal here, I can see why. Hanging out has been called an art, and while no stranger to that canvas, I've simply been all nines to offer a passing glimpse of my oeuvre here at this charming little salon. If I ruffle some feathers by the while, well shucks, don't you know I'm just a kitten? So don't pout, darlings: James 2.0 is expecting another update soon: James 2.0.1: Snow Felix. The betas are looking swell, and the alphas are downright ravishing. We're simply over the moon -- and who said we stop here?

As for the Basement, the view of the scene from up here is all around ducky. New York is hot, and so am I. Lucky for this stowaway, the captain was kind enough to rig these two fans before I came on deck. Now I may have enjoyed the attention of a few fans in my life before, but I'll be dashed if these two classy numbers aren't the tops.

Well, what do you know, that summer seasonal just popped and James is thirsty for one more before he pops out for a train ride. Keep those lips smiling, lovers, and we'll all tip a glass to the stars soon. Au revoir!

look who's back...

2010-07-09T17:14:00.005-04:00

hey biscuits! look who i invited back into our lives:

that's right, dude... it's james. no, not you, i'm talking about super gay james who's still straiter than other james, james! why? why the fuck not?! if it's a war you want, it's a war you'll get. you think you can just tape my fan remote to the goddamn ceiling and there won't be some sort of backlash? think again, bitch. you've been replaced. "but you can't replace me, dan..." really? tell that to every girl i've ever dated.

oh! speaking of the living room fan, we now have two. check it out:

and by we, i obviously mean me and james. the james who doesn't cry in the shower because no one will ever love him, james. yeah, buddy. this is what happens when you play hardball.

just look how lovely and cool it is in the living room right now! we're having so much fun... it's 88 degrees outside and we're in here wearing long johns, for goodness sake! i hope you don't mind that i let james have yours (you know, the james i don't hate). i figure you won't need them anymore since you don't live here starting ten minutes ago.

have fun at your new job. i'll try not to get you fired tomorrow when i come in and get you fired.

New Job!

2010-07-09T14:12:00.001-04:00

Dan, would you please stop twisting my magnetic-clip farmers market manager name tag upside down? I didnt manage the west seattle farmers market in all weather conditions for two years and then apply said name tag to the glass in our french doors at the top of our stairs just so you could flip it upside down and make me look like a jerk and not the natural leader with environmentally sound scruples that I really am.

Leave the shower on when you are done, I want to use it tonight.

This means war

2010-07-07T13:14:00.006-04:00

Wow Daniel. Just wow. A nice roomate would have just bought a fan, and been like "hey, you owe me $20 for the fan." Instead you are holding that $20 over my head and refusing to let the fan blow on me. I don't know what to say, which is appropriate, because actions speak louder than words anyway, don't they Dan? For example, when you got black out drunk last night and mumble-hummed something close to the lyrics of "cool it now", that was like... a time that you said a whole bunch without saying anything at all. Another example is me taking your new fan's remote and taping it to the ceiling. That ought to teach you to not not let me enjoy circulated oscillating wind vibrations, dick.

I guess we are at war then... so be it. Speaking of war, our good friend Kate brought us this last night.

Oh thanks Kate! What a nice puppy! What a nice, giant, plush doggy pooch! Cute right? Wrong! It's plush, helloooooo this is New York city fool! You found this thing on the street on trash night. That is digusting. You are disgusting. Trash night! Groooooss. Yes I was there with you and I said it was a good idea. Yes I'm completely changing my position and clinging stubbornly to the moral high ground. That giant dog is almost certainly infested with bed bugs... mine and Dan's natural enemy when we aren't enemies with each other which right now is never so this is a mixed up three way cold war. This isn't a giant, friendly, yellow dog.... it's a trick, the classic trojan horse maneuver, except instead of being stuffed with Greek warriors, it's a breeding ground for tiny, nasty little fuck-bugs that feed off 20-something male butt skin. Thanks but no thanks for the unwanted health hazard. Jesus, Kate... you might as well just sneak into our beds and chew on us in the midnight hours when we are trying to dream our dreams. Unforgivable.

Also Dan, I got the barbecue job, which means I'm awesome!

i got this for us!

2010-07-05T14:36:00.004-04:00

and by "us," i mean "me." this is my fan. got it? you're not allowed to touch it. this cost me forty dollars... and because of that, only i may be cool in the living room. you must suffer.

also, i stole the batteries from your surround-sound remote and put them in the remote for my new fan. my temperature needs come before those of your ears.
suck it.

i got you a present!

2010-07-04T13:31:00.002-04:00

open this and smell it!

it's my work shirt from yesterday. i sweat through it three times just for you!

I need a favor

2010-07-04T10:38:00.005-04:00

Dan, can you be around the house from 3:30 to 8:30 on monday? I'm expecting our child in the mail. He is only being shipped from two hours away in Philly, so I don't think we have to worry about feeding him until a few days after he gets here. Even so, we should still be around when he arrives to keep him from sticking his tiny little baby fingers into the electrical sockets, no matter how hilarious that might definitely be.

Also, we need to talk.

This is not a balanced breakfast. There's the cigarettes, which I get, because you need cigarettes no matter what. Whiskey is fine, it's like liquid cornflakes, but coconut water? Coconut water? Too healthy for breakfast! What are you trying to do, race past all of us and break some crazy kind of health record? There's enough potassium in one of those coconut waters to meet the US recommended daily allowance twice over. What are you, some kind of vitamin soaked maniac? Also you should probably eat actual food from time to time. Just wander out on a limb and take a chance on a sandwich.

I'm glad you bought bourbon yesterday (and everyday before that since I've known you) because I interviewed at a kick ass urban bbq and they told me I need to study bourbons. Did you know bourbon ain't bourbon if it's not at least 51% corn? The other 49% is rye and wheat and other crap. It also can't be more than 80% corn or else you have to call it corn whiskey and if you drink it every day, it will definitely kill you. Dan. Also it comes from bourbon county in Kentucky, and is fermented in charred oak barrels. So many neat facts!

Daniel, I think we are pregnant

2010-07-01T17:05:00.006-04:00

Whoa whoa whoa, hold on, don't panic. I doubt it's yours. I'm not pregnant either, at least not in the sense that I'm going to get super fat or have a baby in me or whatever. Important facts remain, me being a dude and you and I not sleeping together at all equals us not making a person. So don't freak out.

That said, I've been craving some pretty weird food recently, I darn near cracked open Eric's box of dinosaur chicken nuggets, look at these fucking things.

They are 100% natural! Yup, they just fall right off the chicken bone like that... breaded and shaped like stegosauruses. I don't think Tyson knows what natural means, or what 100% adds up to, or that chickens aren't dinosaurs. Maybe they are smarter than we think, and just have a real good read on how fantastically retarded their American customer base is. Yep... I just nailed it there.

Back to us having a baby... yeah, I got an email from my pal Dave today, here it is:

Hey!

What's your address? I got something to send ya. Something cute and baby-related.

Thanks,
Dave

I wrote back

Hey Dave!

Basement Upstairs
24-13 26th st #2
Astoria, ny
11102

This better not be a live baby in a basket

James

What do you think this means? Do you think Dave is sending us a baby? His wife just had a baby, maybe he is sending us their baby! I don't know what to do... what do babies need? Do you have an extra leatherman for the baby? Babies need multi tools right? I was thinking we could get some baby stuff, like eggs and tomatoes and paper towels. Babies love to play with paper towels and I was thinking we'll probably needs those to clean up after messes so we can kill two baby stones with one bird. Oh man I'm so nervous, I hope it's a boy. I mean, I know it's a boy. He just had a boy, named him Elijah. He's probably a super rad baby, I just don't know if two dudes with no emotional attachment are the best choices to raise a baby together. We'll teach him how to play x-box and not give a crap about chicks. We should home-school him so that he knows he's supposed to hate the man and wear crocks if it's what feels right to him. We have to rename him space-brain though, so that he grows up edgy. This could be awesome... or not.

Check out what I saw today walking around.

They have a special showing for parents of babies! Hey parents with your loud ass babies, we have a special room for you and your worthless spawn. Hope you like watching airbender in a room full of screaming sub-human nightmare factories, suck a dick and let the REAL people watch movies in peace! Man, being a co-dad with you is going to be tough, tough stuff.

Let me know if you need anything from the Deli, I'm making a trip later. See you at Kabin tonight.

My stay

2010-06-30T12:00:00.003-04:00

I've been staying at this place for 2 days now. Dan was gracious enough to say I could use any of the drugs and booze I wanted, and James gave me a guest membership to his Iron Gym. I like Dan better. I think I will replace James.

Today James asked me if some quarters next to me were mine, and when I said no, he took them, insisting "Dan's quarters are my quarters". I don't know what that was all about. I can't wait till he's gone, and it's just me and Dan.

There's another roommate here, named Eric, who is cool and lets me drink expensive wine. He can stay. Not James, though. Not James.

I don't have to take this shit.

2010-06-29T17:33:00.004-04:00

Well well well, Dan, your true intentions are laid bare. You thought you could replace me. You thought you could just call 1-800-cheapfakejames.com and brush me out of your life like elbow sweat. Well, uh... well let's just say, the answer to that question that you didn't ask is No. No to me being a different James from now on. Get ready for some headline news buddy, revenge is afoot and you are gonna get blasted, Biscuits style. Guess what forever? I bought a new Dan! That's right, I did what I had to do, whatever it takes, and I got me a new you. There's a new Dan in the basement upstairs, and his name is Toby.

Look at that handsome bastard, basking in the glow of his macbook pro. Damn. If he would let me, I'd feed him grapes. Big fat concord grapes with the seeds in em, so he could tuck them into his cheek, and walk over to your room and spit them into your sneakers.

Ceasefire though, we need to talk housekeeping. One and both of us have sweated into the living room couch, rendering what was once a pearly white beautiful sofa into a lopsided off brown flop bench. Pretty soon I'm going to take this sofa out back and put a bullet in it.

What are you doing later? Want to go to beer garden and find some Czech girls to try to talk to about soccer until they get bored?

take it easy, biscuits...

2010-06-26T19:30:00.008-04:00

dude, slow down. there's no need to paint the inside of your shorts... no one is "replacing" you. just because there's another james in my life doesn't mean you're out on the streets. how about this, we'll call you old james and call him new james. will that work? no? okay, you'll be regular james and he'll be james 2.0... or you can go by original james and he can be james w/cheese. take your pick, i think they're all great.

seriously, dude... just look at some of the improvements to our quality of life better james has made in the week he's been here...

#1 he fixed the goddamn sink! what?! how? i don't know... he won't tell me (i suspect foul play). but check it out! no dirty dishes!#2 he jiggles the handle every time! he even does it when eric forgets to. in the one week that cool james has been here, i haven't heard that thing swishing about once. not once!
#3 look how neatly super james tied up the trash bag and placed in next to the radiator so it'll stay all warm and fresh until the next trash night. what a sweetheart! let's just admit it... this is simply the kind of thing that you and i aren't capable of thinking of when left to our own devices.

#4 this one's big. thin, not bald james went grocery shopping. check the evidence. this is, by far, the most food we've ever had in the house at any one time!

#5 lastly, anyone who's ever been to our house before knows the significance of this globe... let's just say that fun james has been way cooler about globe-trotting and leave it at that.

oh, and don't freak out if really, really funny james posts on here while he's in town.

Who is this man?

2010-06-24T16:40:00.006-04:00

Dan, what the fuck is going on? I came home from Boston at 4 am the other day, and this... this... this MAN was sitting on MY couch, and he says his name is James. James Adomian. You know that James is my name, are you trying to replace me? Because you can't. There's only one me, and I already live here. There's already a James and he's perfectly fine at being a James thank you very much.

It gets weirder, new James built some sort of nest in the living room out of filthy t-shirts and discarded fedoras. I thrashed it with a broom handle to check for rats... James was in the room, saw the whole thing, and threw a fit. I don't care though, I'm the real James and if there's going to be all kinds of new Jameses walking around, we are going to need some rules.

Rule 1. I am the only James

Got it James?

I'm very uncomfortable with whats going on in the basement Dan. Very uncomfortable.

On the road!

2010-06-19T18:35:00.001-04:00

Dan! I left for the weekend with out telling you, but I can only assume you have been too drunk to know the difference. It is okay though, im having fun. The picture you see is of a snorey and tuckered Scott Moran, I took him down 2 miles of the freedom trail in Boston and then he keeled over onto the grass for a few winks.

It's sunny, and breezy, and i cant smell farts for the first time in a while (i blasted the chinatown bus with farts though, i bought a bag of dried apricots and lit up my seat cushion like a taliban cave). Anyway, dont eat my last bagel, or do, i owe you $100 for cable. See you monday.

Dan look a lady!

2010-06-17T00:45:00.003-04:00

Holy shit Dan! We have a girl in our apartment! Not the kind that disappears into your room and comes out broken, a real live breathing one! Her name is Jessica Mozes and IFC better hire her tomorrow or I'm going to throw a fit! She is communicating with her computer, and she's talking to Andrew Mayer. We know him! We know that Mayer guy! I think he's the mayer of Boston or something. She got up and took her phone into your room to talk to him a minute ago... I hope she doesn't smell what you've been up to in there. I'm going to see that Mayer dude on friday maybe. Neat!

In that picture she is sitting under the U2 poster, which is wedged behind the couch and propped up against the window on top of the radiator so that it blocks the sun glare so that we can play Lego Batman during the day while sad sacks with jobs work their lives away in a non-lego batman existence of toil and un-funericity. Thank you, Bono, for finally doing something cool.

I hear you about the sink Danny. I left a dollar behind the faucet knobs, I thought that would have been a pretty unsubtle hint that mister sink better get crackin' on the sudsin' and the scrubsin' but, nope, jack progress goin down on the filth in our washy water kitchen pit. I feel like I really have a keen understanding on how those BP Gulf of Mexico oil spill clean up crews feel. We have darn near the same kinda problem on our hands at the current present moment. I think we should go over the sink's head, and talk to the hot water heater about what the sink's not doing. You know?

Hmm... it just started to rain outside, and there is thunder and lightning all around us, rattling the windows and shaking the screen. At least we have each other.

i think something's wrong...

2010-06-14T17:10:00.004-04:00

dude, have you been paying attention to what's going on in the kitchen? i think the sink's broken... listen, i may not have a college degree (clearly not for a lack of not trying, neither!), but i'm pretty sure i know how sinks work. dirty dishes go in, clean dishes come out. fucking duh, right? clearly we're living up to our end of the bargain on this one. i mean, just look at the mess of offerings we've given up! hell, we can't even fit all of them in there anymore... and, as you can see, all the proper fixins are in place: sponge, scrubber, and dish soap. so what gives?

i swear, i've tried everything i can think of... seriously everything! first, i stared at it for hours. then i asked it nicely. then i yelled at it. then i threatened it with all three leathermans (i have no idea what the plural is for leatherman... leathermen?). then i ran the water for a solid 45 minutes... i even tried putting the sponge on every single dish... one by one. nothing! i think we're gonna have to get a plumber on the horn cause this is way beyond my expertise.

also, the brita pitcher doesn't seem to be refilling itself anymore. i'm not sure if that's part of the same problem or something entirely different... but we should look into it. the thing's been empty for days now and i've had to survive on the only other liquids in the house: beer and whiskey. i don't know how much longer my body can hold out.

it's happening again!

2010-06-08T15:04:00.005-04:00

look who's back...

weren't these turd burglars here less than a month ago? i watched them break our street and put it back together piece by piece... why are they doing it again? why do they hate our street, biscuits? our street is awesome! it never did nothing to no one... especially not these guys. i've not once seen our street get up at five in the morning and show up at their houses and start banging pots and pans around. though i am out of town a lot... who knows what our street could be doing when we're not here! dude... did you ever think about that? we need to get a nany-cam for the street... see what this old girl is really up to when our backs are turned. this could be huge! it might even end up like that movie about those toys that came to life when the kids weren't around. what was that called? heat? i think it was heat.

also, one of them has a saw.

double also, stop leaving your socks on the stairs. it's gross.

seriously not cool, dude...

2010-06-04T16:15:00.002-04:00

that's my toothbrush... in the toilet... i demand an explanation!

Parky needs his Z's

2010-05-10T10:19:00.003-04:00

This morning started so good Danno. I was all comfortable asleep in my bed, curled up in my flannel sheets with my face pressed firmly against the drywall (I do that to keep space flies from laying eggs in my future)... The snooze was going all great when BANG! whats that? CLANG! oh my god! CLACK CLACKA CLACKA CLACK! is it the big one? CHACKA CHACKA CHACKA! oh no, cloverfield?!?! is that you?!?!?! TWAPPA FLAPP BAP BAP!

So I goes outside to find out if we are under attack from nazis or being shelled by the turks or to find out why there are so many grenades going off or to buy a calendar and see if its the fourth of july or to tape the greek gods having anal sex or to watch the insane clown posse concert or to document 1000 volkswagen buggies demolition derbying or to find out that there are a billion microwaves cooking popcorn right outside my window but no..... NO DAN.

They are building a road in the middle of the street. (Muppet movie quote!) Hey assholes, what are you doing? Cut that out! We already have a road, plus I don't have a car anymore. I gave it away to a guy for $2000 so that I could ride the subway. Don't even need a road, you should install a grass field out there instead. Maybe you can keep your explosion-digging to a dull roar, I mean come on man, what is this, a coal mine? You son of a bitches!

You are so lucky Dan, to have your room on the quiet, snoozy side. I'm fighting trench warfare against a unstoppable mutant army, and you are sleeping cozily on a cloud of angel furs. Good gravy. I bought Eric some Newman mint oreos because I ate all of his last week, so don't touch those please.

quit being an idiot!

2010-05-03T14:42:00.006-04:00

okay biscuits... i know you thought that their "waffel" sandwich was something else, but feast your eyes on what those marvelous mexicans at othello just made for me:

allow me to introduce you to the "big boy." check this shit: three eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, and cheese (i got pepper jack) on a hero! fuck your waffels in the face, bitch! this thing is a fucking monster! it should come with a goddamn defibrillator or some shit... seriously, i feel like i have to swear around it or else it'll think i'm some kind of pussy faggot. time to make a new years resolution and break it (hell damn crap!).

in other news: i'm back from the northwest. let's get drunk and break some shit!

This mother fucker...

2010-04-26T21:39:00.001-04:00

Recognize this guy Dan? He crashed at our place. He ate your Cheerios and drank your vermouth. He also got a little bleedy under the left eyeball because he tried to give me a raspberry and i drove my kneecap into his face. He should know that the viet cong used to give me raspberries in Korea, and now when i get them, i thrash out. Thats how you get kneed in the face, Grant Lyon... also visit again any time yay!

I fly home tomorrow night, cya back in NYC pal. Also, lets just not pay the cable bill anymore.

have i got a deal for you!

2010-04-11T17:22:00.003-04:00

check out how full my change cup is getting! wanna buy it? come on, dude! look how much is in there... i took the picture next to a beer bottle to give you some perspective (cause what else was i gonna use?). now make me an offer!

think about this. neither of us has any idea how much money is in there... it could be eight dollars... it could be 80! think about this. what if there's some super old penny in there that's worth hundreds?! do you really want to blow that opportunity? think about this! you could literally buy a homeless person with all that change! literally! are you thinking about this? it'll be just like one of those storage locker auctions... okay, here's the point: let's start going to storage locker auctions! we'll be modern day treasure hunters! what's in all those boxes?! will it be jewelery? sports equipment? antique rifles? hundreds of unsold copies of some loser's "novel" about what life would have been like if his band had made it and his wife had never left him?! oh man! did you get goosebumps?

hey, so anyway, check this out... i found a gray hair! it's all down hill from here... parky, you're bald, right? what's it like to no longer be defined by your super rad hair?

Get on a plane!

2010-04-10T10:40:00.003-04:00

Danny Danny Danny get on a plane and get back here right god damn now. For one, its scary here. Eric is a recluse and he takes 58 minute showers. I can't sleep when he's in the house and you aren't in the house, I have night terrors which lead to night thrashing... do you know what it's like to wake up and find punch holes all over your bedroom? Another reason to come back, look at that picture! Know where I took that? Othello fuckin' Deli... you know, the place we go to at 4 am (when it opens) and the guy there thinks that we are (a) on our way to work when in reality we are (b) finishing off the night. Enough about all that, hello waffle sandwich! I mean, Waffel sandwich! Oh my god, the Othello people changed the international spelling of WAFFEL! Say goodbye to regular sandwiches forever man. In fact... just say goodbye to doing anything but eating those delicious handheld- You tried to kidnap me?

What? I mean what? Okay first of all, I sleep with a fungo bat under my bed. In addition to that, I've got a trick bedroom door. The only way I can make my bedroom door close is to open the closet door into it and prop it closed. This functions as a natural barricade, nearly impenetrable to intruders... don't you remember that one night when you tried to storm into my room growling "party! parky wake up lets party!"

I would have heard the banging of the doors together, then I would have brained all of your friends with a short, clubby baseball bat that I've had since I was 11. In other words, thank you for calling off the kidnapping... I'm just not in the mood to commit any quadruple murders.

Pete did a good job of drawing my gut, and my man breasts and the chins... okay I'm working on it man. Planet fitness, $10 gym membership, not bad eh? They actually made me put a dollar down. One dollar. The problem is, for every 10 minutes I spent lifting weights, I immediately projectile vomit and slip into a coma. I've toned down the routine so that I'm doing mostly inverted toe curls, long distance staring, and gravity assisted elbow hanging. It's slow going but I'm making the old college effort. The community college effort. Like the one you dropped out of. I miss you!

Also here is the greatest music video ever composed to inspire you and everyone we know. Thanks to Scott Moran for introducing it into my life...

this is where my dad works!

2010-04-09T16:56:00.003-04:00

hey bud! i'm in seattle... and i had a heck of a time getting here! i flew into portland and took the train up... which involved me sleeping outside the amtrak station on wednesday night. amongst a sea of bums. one of them was even playing a harmonica. classic!

so listen, i have a confession to make. last night, i planned to have you kidnapped. clearly you were not. i'm still trying to figure out why. we had everything planned out to a t! four guys with guns (fake ones, i think) were going to bust into the house around midnight last night and "mistake" you for eric (who, for the sake of this prank, is in heavy gambling debt). they were going to gag you, tie you up, put a hood over your head, and throw you in a van... then you were going to find yourself in a warehouse (my boss' storage locker) with a man in a dark suit holding jumper cables attached to a car battery... he was going to ask you questions about a man named luther (that's me!)... obviously you wouldn't know shit, cause you're not eric... and eric doesn't really have a gambling problem... and, as far as i know, he doesn't know anyone named luther. anyway, they were going to take your phone and program my number in as "luther." then i was going to call and they'd be like "oh, you don't know luther? they why the fuck is he calling?!" then they'd hand you the phone and you'd answer and it would be me! can you imagine!?

here's the best part: i was going to be on stage at laughs when matt (my boss) gave me the cue to call you... i was going to put you on speakerphone and hold it up to the mic so everyone could hear as you audibly peed your pants... then i was going to have the audience shout "april fools!" i mean, honestly, can you imagine?!! can you? i don't think you can!

anyway, here's a drawing i made pete make.

Moose!

2010-04-07T11:14:00.004-04:00

Hey Dan! I broke into your room and nailed a stuffed moose head to the wall, no it's not real. I don't hunt, and if I did, no way the animal's face would remain intact... this is just a stuffed animal engineered by science-ticians to look exactly like a real, real moose. I also sewed some squirrel guts into the stuffing so that it smells like a real live decomposing cadaver! You are welcome.

Also thanks so much for my eggs, I love em! I just wish they were delicately scrambled with a pile of onions and tomatoes and served with whole grain bread, I'm starving around here and the only thing to eat in our apartment is a can of kidney beans and a sack of uncooked lentils from some previous tenant. I took care of some errands today, rotating the garbage in the kitchen, stacking the dirty plates into neat piles, and I also updated the "you might be a redneck calendar"

YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK IF....

buck up, bummer!

2010-04-04T14:17:00.006-04:00

so listen, man... i know your job made you shave your beard... that they made you "kill your baby." and we all know you aren't able to have children of your own... so rachel and i made something to cheer you up.

or should i say "some one."

or should i say "some ones!"

james... biscuits... buddy! we made you egg babies! they look just like you!

this is about as close to a real child as you're likely to ever get. legally, anyway. happy easter, pal!

Dan... dont freak out

2010-03-31T09:30:00.001-04:00

I feel like i should warn you, if you seem someone you dont recognize in the apartment this week, dont be scared, it's not some intruder, its just me... shaved. So put down that shovel. Ps where'd you get that sweet shovel? And whats it for? I thought we ran out of dirt.

Look man they made me do it. They made me kill my own baby, those bastards at the office made me shave my face. Apparently facial hair is unseemly, you know whats unseemly dan? Walking around with a fat naked hairless face, scaring children and not being attractive ever again. If this were cave times i would be executed publicly by the tribe for weakness, or ugliness, or weak ugliness.

Fuck.

I look like charles barkley soaked in bleach, that beard was my power animal Dan, and sometimes your power animal lives on your face. Charles Barkley's power animal is a Mallard that can dunk algae.

Fuck.

Do you know how much fat i was papering over with that throw rug of facial perfection? Now i have to lose weight, count carbs and take the stairs once in a while. Fries with that? What are you, nuts? I cant afford to take out a mortgage on a new chin, just give me some shaved grass and a diet water...

Fuck.

I'm like the loose cannon cop who got forced into a desk job because he is too unpredictable, but what the commish doesn't know is that im secretly growing stealth beards in between my legs and on my toe-knuckles, this man is gonna dream today Danno.

Fuck.

For real, fuck.

Fruit Bowl!

2010-03-24T14:55:00.001-04:00

Dan! Dan! Dan! I made us a fruit bowl out of a camera tripod and a pasta strainer, also, i will be late on rent this month.

Happy trash night!

look what i got!

2010-03-18T17:54:00.008-04:00

check it out, biscuits! i was moving this dude yesterday (as that is my profession) and he had this giant vase thing... and he was just gonna throw it out... can you believe that? what a fucking idiot! at first, i was planning on drinking whiskey out of it, but i think i've found a better use. that's right! we've got ourselves a bonafide cap-hole (or, for the lay person, a cap-eteria). no longer will our (my) beer caps suffer the indignity of the trash can... or the floor... no, sir! they've found their place in the sun!

don't worry, i'm still gonna hide some in your work shoes from time to time. gotta keep you on your toes!

hey! how long do you think it will take me to fill this thing? i bet i can do it in a week! for real. let's bet! how much? shall we say $600? real nice and friendly. aw, who am i kidding? i know you're not gonna take the bet... you're always saying stuff like, "you drink too much, dan... i can't encourage that." that's bummer talk, biscuits! be a man and gamble on trivial things. yeah, that's what men do. we also bottle up emotions and secretly hate everyone who's different. get on board!

ps, check out how good i'm getting at this.

Capitorium from James Parkinson on Vimeo.

Movie

2010-03-17T13:04:00.001-04:00

so on and soap-forth...

2010-03-16T15:54:00.007-04:00

hey dude! oh man, fuck, before i get started... do you remember that show? totally the best! i used to tape it cause i had practice after school (i know, team sports totally paid off for me). remember when ted was gonna leave the ranch and everybody pretended not to care because he was being so cool about it... but then he thought they really didn't care and he got super bummed and wrote a song about it which was just "bye bye love" by the everly brothers... but he replaced the word "love" with "ted." CLASSIC! i've spent the past hour looking for a clip online to no avail (yeah, avail. so what?).

anyway, hey, um, quick question: how do you not know how hand soap works? seriously. what is this about? how is this a thing? i'm baffled. honestly. baffled. i can't even construct full sentences. except for that one... how do you go for hand soap and completely miss your hand? over and over again, no less! i count at least seven separate instances in this picture... and i cleaned the sink no more than two weeks ago. that means this is happening at least once every other day (that's more than we blog, for christ sake!). and that means that you're either getting it right a good seventy-five percent of the time or you've got some issues with your intake/outtake ratio. either way, i'm worried about you.

by the way, don't even try to blame eric. i've lived with him for a year (to the day, actually) and this was never an issue before. this is your doing, biscuits! no get in there and clean it up!

you know what, don't worry about it... i'm just gonna fart in your peanut butter jar.
suddenly "super chunk" has a whole new meaning, no?

Daylight Savings, Bitch

2010-03-14T11:54:00.002-04:00

A txt conversation this morning, circa noon

Parky: Its daylight savings (expletive deleted)!

Danno: i'm well aware (expletive deleted)

Parky: We havta celebrate!

Danno: im at work

Parky: Metoo!

Danno: well where/when should we celebrate?

Okay... before I get to that, check out the picture i took of Billy Wayne Davis smoking in the subway. I dont think you can do that. I took this picture right after he peed on the tracks, which i know you cant do, and he was arcing dangerously close to the third rail when he did it, which is the sort of thing you only do once.

Daylight Savings! Well i feel like we lost an hour, and should mourn that hour by dedicating it to other hourlong stuff that we lost, maybe we could watch an unreleased episode of firefly. I will make some bald eagle sandwiches and we can wash it all down with crystal pepsi, except for the last sip, which we dump on the floor to honor the mercifully deceased Corey Haim. Do you think Corey is a child star drug addict sensation/human wreck in heaven? Do ya Dan?

I got your 7 habits right here!

2010-03-12T14:31:00.003-05:00

Whoa buddy! I'm not ready to sync up to my phone. That's scary to me... thinking about the government knowing about what I'm blogging. I realize my blog is public, but lets face it... the government is much less likely to read my blog than they are to tap my phone. Also, the government is currently a really chill dude who is working his ass off so that we can all get medicine when we need it kind of. Long story short, I'm blogging on my computer, thankyaverymuch.

I'm also watching Crimson Tide, and let me tell you buddy, Gene Hackman is really laying in Denzel Washington on board that submarine. These two gentlemen are really steamed at each other based on principle. Speaking of laying into each other based on principle, observe the bobbleheads on top of the TV. The one on the left is George W. Bush, he is facing the wall because he is in time out (Hell) and he needs to stay there forever. The dude screaming at him is New York Mets all star closer Francisco (K-Rod) Rodriguez, and he is laying into Bushy with all sorts of electrified derision, "George Bush! You should not have invaded Iraq! Illegal war tribunals are bullshit! You can't tap phones, it is unamerican! Thank you for the thoughtful gift package from Restoration Hardware, my wife loves mahogany!"

I made a video about the book you found, enjoy.

phone blog!

2010-03-11T19:40:00.000-05:00

biscuits! did you know we can do this with our phones? say goodbye to texting each other! that shit was starting to get on my last good nerve... and frankly, i feel like it's cheating the system... like when jews use credit cards on saturdays... or kleenex instead of toilet paper because tearing is against the rules. man they're crafty!

anyway, set up your phone and stop trying to trick god!

also, i found this book. time to get our shit together, bud.

-- sent from my phone. hot diggity.

I Live

2010-03-10T11:05:00.007-05:00

God damn it, Daniel, I am not dead! You need to stop assuming I have passed away just because I disappeared for a few minutes, I have a job and this is going to keep happening. This whole... I might be dead thing, It was funny at first, but now it's starting to creep me out. The other day you were crying, clicking around my website, and I was across the room. Across the room Dan, breathing. I'm starting to think you are just using "James might be dead" as an excuse to dig into my oatmeal stash. From now on, any time you think I might be dead, if you are freaking out about it, just nudge me (if I'm in the room) or send me a text or something, and if you ask "are you dead?" and I respond "yes" then you should probably assume I'm fucking with you, as opposed to reaching out to you from the grave.

You know, funny story, I came home the other day and I took this:

Look who is dead now! You weren't dead at all though, you were sleeping off a marathon of Doctor Who episodes and micheladas. I could have assumed you were gone, that you had taken a swan dive into the spiritual world. It would have been a killer excuse to sit down on the kitchen floor and eat all of your mini bagels. Unfortunately for me, I'm educated and I know how to diagnose the dead. It's pretty easy really, just slam the bathroom door. If they yell out "suck it" then you are clean and clear. If this fails, walk up slowly and tickle their feet... warning, this is a good way to get kicked in the face. If they still don't move, dude... your friend is real dead, and it's time to start rummaging through his crap.

Speaking of crap, I nailed a couple of lizards to the wall. They aren't real lizards, they are Oaxacan wood carvings. The one on the left with the horn is an iguana named "Joe" and the one on the right is a salamander named "Pete." They ward off evil spirits (and good taste), but who needs aesthetic beauty when you are walking the tight rope between the physical and spiritual plane?

Not me, Dan. Not me.

you're not dead?

2010-03-04T03:15:00.005-05:00

fuck. really? i'll be damned. i mean, don't get me wrong, i'm glad you're not dead and whatever... i just wish i'd seen this sooner. like, before 3:30am on trash day. this leaves me very little time to drag all your shit back in off the curb. this is a real hassle, biscuits. i mean, do you know how long it took me to get everything down there in the first place? and you don't even own that much stuff!

hey, do you know how to get the smell of lighter fluid out of clothes? if not, you should probably google it.

also, just a side-note, i tore up some (a lot) of the floor boards in your room to make you a coffin. yeah, that's what kind of friend i am. i don't need to make a phone call... or receive a phone call... or see a body... when my buddy dies, i jump straight into action. don't worry, you might have to angle it weird, but your bed will cover up most of the hole until you find the time to patch it all up. again, it would have been really nice to have heard about your continued existence before putting in all this work. i mean, is it my fault that when i don't see someone for, like, two days, i just assume he's dead? obviously, it is not.

you're pretty selfish sometimes, you know that?

now, onto the matter at hand: who's fucking u2 poster is this?i know it's not mine... and i'm pretty sure it's not yours (otherwise it'd be on the curb). is it eric's? it can't be eric's! he's got really good taste in music. how the shit did we end up with a random u2 poster and how long has it been on the goddamn wall? i'm taking it down. wait, should i take it down? what do you think will happen if i take it down? shit. i just got really paranoid. what if i try to take it down and there's, like, some sort of indiana jones type weight sensitive dealie... and the whole house collapses? i mean, we'll probably survive, but what about the downstairs neighbors? oh right, i forgot, i don't care what happens to those jerks! they haven't said more than two words to me since that time they invited me down to their bbq and i blew them off and then ordered delivery and answered the door right in front of them. honestly, what was i supposed to do? go down there and hang out with them and their stupid friends? yeah... okay. and somehow i'm the asshole...

long story short, u2 blows.

Hey Dan, Look at our Fucking Friends!

2010-02-28T11:55:00.002-05:00

Hi Dan! I'm in Seattle, where we both moved from. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to farting in my room while I was gone. That's a weird thing to do, to fly across the country and not tell your roomate. What if you worried? What if you stayed up all night panicking that I might somehow not get home okay or... man I can't keep a straight face talking about that shit. If I texted you, "hey Dan! I'm surrounded by alligators!" All you would text back is "suckit" Which is why that time, when I tripped, rolled and fell into the alligator nest in the sewer, I totally didn't text you. Also I'm lying.

Man, look at our fucking friends.

Dude we met the dumbest girl last night. She kept trying to sleep with Solomon, which I get it, he's handsome, but he's also quite gay. I mean, you can try and try, but Solomon just won't try fish. Anyway, Lee stole her phone and sent a text to her boyfriend. It was something innocuous but cute like "hey honey I met this guy Lee, he's way handsome bla bla bla..." Lulled into a false sense of security, I talked her into letting me play. So I just sent this to her boyfriend, "I've got the herp."

I'm not necessarily a nice person.

Okay so what happened next was a classic error. Insecure and sensitive to the condition of her budding relationship, said girl overreacted. All she needed to say was simply, "these morons stole my phone." Done. Controversy over. Instead she panicked! Panicked hard, Dan! She swiped the phone and explained, frantically, that she does not, in fact, have herpes at all. (it's only a matter of time though)

The night rolled on. We changed the subject, goofed on Lee's sweater for a while, admired the thursday night bar chaos, and then I bought her a beer... nice little smoke screen which allowed me to steal the phone again, and sent him this:

"you should probly get tested though"

I fly back monday, see ya soon!

you might be a redneck if...

2010-02-25T06:38:00.003-05:00

your "you might be a redneck" day to day calendar is way out of date and surrounded by beer caps and bottles of shitty liquor.

it's official, biscuits... we're rednecks.

biscuits?

2010-02-21T12:49:00.008-05:00

hey there, ya last-slice-eating-dead-man!

aw shucks, who am i kidding? we both know i can't stay mad at you! that'd be like if maverick had stayed mad at iceman in top gun... and iceman was bald... anyway, what i'm trying to say is, i kicked your shoes down the stairs. now we're even, wingman.

now then, on to the matter at hand! why does everyone you know in boston call you "biscuits?" i would have asked you when we were up there, but we didn't have internet... which made for quite the awkward couple of days, what with the whole "blood-pact of silence" we've got going on. your aunt seemed really weirded out... especially when i would leave the room any time she asked you a question, so you could answer without the hammer coming into play. i don't know what's so hard to understand about that. also, that first night was pretty tough... when we stayed in her basement on those trundle beds... side by side... our heads less than two feet apart... lying reticently in the dark, pretending to be asleep lest one of us should think the other is awake and feel obligated to break the silence... again, forcing the hammer out of retirement. thank god i found that tylenol pm! oh yeah, i found some tylenol pm. i crushed it up and put it in your tea. you're welcome!

okay, back to biscuits. seriously, what's the deal? i've never seen you go crazy over biscuits, so it can't be that you have an unhealthy love/hate thing going on... which leads me to believe that there was some sort of incident involving you and any or all of the following:

dog biscuits
a tube of pillsbury dough
australian toaster biscuits ("it taste's like it's got butter inside!")
a sack of bisquick
british people
nudity and sausage gravy

anyway, i took the liberty of making a sign for your bedroom door. no need to thank me.

Don't Care

2010-02-19T10:45:00.002-05:00

Dear Dan,

Yeah, it's true, I ate your last slice of pizza. So what? It was delicious. The cheese was salty and wonderful, the toppings were freshly preserved by our refrigerator, and it felt good to eat the last slice, too. Technically, you offered it to me. Several days ago you said, "hey Parky, want some pizza?" I said, "no, I'm good." Turns out I did want pizza, I just didn't want it yet. In fact, I specifically wanted to wait until there was only one left, because really, that last slice tastes so much better than any other piece in the life span of a pizza. It's like finding the last bald eagle on earth, making it into a sandwich and eating it in front of a cop.

Speaking of roomate insensitivity, why doesn't Eric ever jiggle the handle on the toilet? We have a trick toilet. You flush it, the mess goes down, then you wait for the water box to generate magical waves of energy and regenerate the reservoir (I have NO IDEA what goes on inside of a toilet) and then you jiggle the handle, or else the entire apartment sounds like a fish tank all day. You do it. I do it. Eric never fucking does it. I can hear it RIGHT NOW DAN. I can hear the trickling sounds of science and energy attempting to restore our toilet to it's default, poo-hungry setting... but I can also hear the struggle, the desperate cries of a toilet box yearning for someone to mercifully hear its sputtering cry of help and ease the pain by oh so gently jiggling the god damn handle.

Why must I always be the hero?

what the shit?!

2010-02-12T15:34:00.006-05:00

hey james! remember highlights magazine? of course you do, you're a dork just like me... how much fun was that shit?! searching through pictures to find what was wrong and/or missing! well, james, i'd like you to take a look at this picture and tell me (not out loud!) what's wrong and/or missing. can you figure it out?

pizza, james! pizza is wrong and/or missing! my pizza! the last slice of my pizza! the slice i was saving for breakfast! i know you ate it, james... i can feel it in my bones...

i thought we'd been over this when you used the last of my face wash while i was in seattle... and again when you broke my pen and left it sitting on the coffee table like nothing happened so the next time i went to write something down (something pithy and irreverent, no doubt) i was made to look like a fool! a damned fool!

you've backed me into a corner here, james. i've now only one form of recourse... and we both know what that is. i'm going to have to use your beard trimmer to shave my butt. pictures to follow.

With friends like Dan, who needs pants?

2010-02-10T17:55:00.006-05:00

Man oh man Danno, it sure was nice to spend the day inside without pants on. It's snowing like crazy out there, covering everything in white like it was a tea party convention. I think we need to talk though... I mean, not out loud. I'm sick of you, but I would like to bring up a minor point. I didn't buy the iron gym just so that you could hang your crap off of it.

I bought it so that my beard would have a nice, skinny face to hang from and take attention away from my shiny, hopelessly barren scalp. Fuck you and your hair by the way. I'm going to go do some serious pullup action... I've worked my way up to 2 and a half pullups before passing out, then I'm going to move that sucker to the floor and do some intensity infused iron-pumping in the form of assisted pushups and very, very low impact dips. I'll have Seth Rogen's body within a year.

Everybody be calm

2010-02-05T18:17:00.003-05:00

I will get to the soup above in a second.

Dan, you and Eric really over-reacted yesterday during the brief, almost undetectable power interrupt. It's all funny and ha ha ha, tee hee laughing and giggles and la dee da. What if it was a real emergency? At one point, you were talking about breaking the brooms in half so we could make spears to hunt venison. Venison? In Queens? We have plenty of food! And why do we half to break the brooms in half? We could just sharpen the handle, and keep the broom for sweeping, not that we sweep ever.

I admit, I too was nervous that the power was out and that I might have to talk to you. I literally almost said "hey Dan, check the circuit breaker," but luckily my mouth filled with bile instead. Phew! Yes, Eric is home, he still lives here. Above is a beautiful photograph of some soup he brought home, with a rockin' passive aggressive (but funny!) note written on the lid.

I think he might be on to me... I totally siphoned off half a cup of his tomato sauce to add some zip to my Kirkland Signature macaroni and cheese. In my mind, he owes me a little sauce, damn it, for the hell he puts me through when he puts on "Lost." Every 5 seconds another question... "whats the smoke monster? why are there polar bears? do they ever get off the island? who is that guy? who is that guy? who is that guy? could you not sleep out here? your snoring is louder than this mysterious island of plot twists and sexual tension, by the way you owe me five hundred dollars, I need it tomorrow..."

It's a real bummer we wasted an "emergency" post the day before a legitimate snow storm slams us in the face. Way to go Dan, way to go.

coned emergency!

2010-02-04T20:01:00.006-05:00

wow... we had ourselves a close call today, james. the power was out for nearly an hour! thank god our computers have batteries, and our phones have the internet, and i've got books and markers, and we've got that pile of magazines, and you had to shower, and i found that knife to play with, and the ice cream man came, and someone called you, and i had to make my bed, and we had a bottle of gin, and someone else called you, and i got a text message, and that reminded me to set up texting for my bank account, and you remembered to order flowers for your mom, and a package came for the downstairs neighbors, and that stray cat showed up on the fire escape, and i remembered to organize eric's cds (does he still live here?), and another person called you, and i had to write a letter to my grandpa, and i had to do the dishes and my laundry, and you had to go grocery shopping, and i had to clean the toilet, and you found eric's copy of x-factor #27 (seriously, i haven't seen him in weeks... did he move out?), and you decided to rearrange the living room, and i decided to move everything back to where it was before... if it weren't for that, we would have had to speak to each other to keep from staring at the walls... that would have fucking sucked.

What's on the damn coffee table?

2010-02-03T17:23:00.004-05:00

Hey danno,

Don't think just because you don't start sentences with capital letters that I'm not going to. cause i'm gonna.

Trash night! Trash night isn't especially exciting, it happens twice a week. It is, however, exciting when we realize that it's trash night. It's exciting, not in the sense that the day itself is particularly interesting, but because we get to get rid of the mountains and mountains of garbage that we accumulate. It's like the tree falling in the woods thing, it doesn't matter if trash night happens on a night where we are simply not paying attention. The city can't pick up garbage that we have safely stowed all over the kitchen floor. Tonight, we remember, we throw it all away, and we rejoice. Free at last! No more biohazard! It's basically almost cleanish around here. You can't eat off the floor at the basement, but who does that anyway?

By the by, what the hell is on our coffee table?

Remote controls, one for the TV/Cable, one for the computer speaker surround sound that you hate that I love that is better than the TV sound but still kinda blows.
Lighter fluid, the label says "great for removing labels" oh yeah? How come you are still here then, mister label?
Pepsi throwback... made with real sugar. Delicious! You drank the first half until you ran out of rum to mix, now it's mine!
Napkins
Fuck-you planet earth styrofoam cup for our red pepper flakes. Yum! T-minus how many seconds until Pizza?
My sunglasses... sweet aviators, your sunglasses... 10 cent novelty glasses that you found/stole from a co-worker.
Cigarettes because you keep un-quitting.
An application to the Johnnie Walker "striding man" society (I think you have a shot!)
A tape measure, can't remember what we need to find the length of, but we have the tool if it ever comes up again!
X-box controller, Lego Indiana Jones you have a date with Danno and Parky!
Oh, and the top of a coffee table. That's whats on our coffee table.

What a wacky bunch of stuff!

parky?

2010-02-03T16:29:00.002-05:00

i see you enjoyed the pepsi throwback. yeah, i said it's full name... cause i'm a fucking gentleman.

anyway, this is neat. we have a co-blog so we don't have to use mouth-words anymore! do you know how much energy we expend each day just talking out loud (as apposed to inside our brains... which i keep trying to do, but your brain never says anything back to my brain)? me neither! what do i look like? some sort of science fag with a gay ass lab coat? i should hope not. hey, how many questions do you think i can ask and answer in this entry? i bet it's five!

so, i know you're thinking that what i just said was "offensive to gay people" or whatever... but it's totally not. know why it's not? cause i used "fag" and "gay ass" in the same sentence. that's called a "double negaytive," which makes it ironic and sarcastic... and therefore acceptable. you can't win if you don't play by the rules! that's what my dad always probably would have said if he cared enough to give me advice. wow, this just got heavy. i should probably stop now while i'm ahead...

ps, wake up! it's trash night!

Hey Danno

2010-02-03T14:37:00.000-05:00

Hey buddy, it's your roomate. Parky. I would talk to you, you know, out loud... and why wouldn't I? I mean, you are right over there. Literally... you are sitting right there. I took a picture of you. Purple shoes, green shirt that says "Flake" (autobiographical), nasty ass hair that needs to be cut, washed, and then burned (in any order). God I wish I had your hair. I would treat it all nice and love it and take it for walks and make sure it got plenty of vitamins and sunshine. Anyway, why don't you be a pal and go get me the rest of that Pepsi?