Might be dying

In the last week or so, I have been getting massive headaches daily. The only logical conclusion I can come up with is that Hervé Villechaize put a ceti eel in my ear at the prodding of Khan. Okay, that might have been too obscure of a reference. I do have a bad headache though. I am thinking the big one could be coming or my head hurts because I can't stop wondering if it is possible for Superman to have a bout of diarrhea. Seriously does he take perfect shits every time? Maybe if he ate some kryptonite or something it would have the same affect on him as Mexican food on me. Just a thought. Man my head hurts.

Googled "Superman taking a dump" to find this image

Child Labor Laws

This morning I saw this sign hanging up in my local Mexican juice bar. I know that sentence makes no sense. Mexican juice? The sign is awesome because I would like to believe one of the following is true:
A. There is five year old that owns his own business
B. A mother made it who is using her child in a sweat shop
C. Taylor Negron is the kid's name
D. I find racist jokes to be the funniest of all jokes

The names and faces have been changed to protect the totally awesome

This last week I went down the shore to LBI in search of Snooki and JWOWW, instead I came across this old scum-bag and his "niece". Not sure what their scene was all about, but the entire night she alternated between dancing for him and grinding his thigh like it was a rocking horse while everyone in the bar watched. I like to imagine that he's the Brad Wesley of LBI, shaking down business owners (and generally ruling the small town) with equal parts ruthlessness/style.


Sadly though, he probably wasn't anywhere near that cool, and sadder still, nobody ended up getting their throat torn out that night. Bottom line, it's like Dalton says, "If you're gonna have a pet, keep it on a leash."

Actual words that left my mouth today

"I hate Priuses with handicap plates. Why do these old fucks care about saving the environment?"

The best part of the statement is my assumption that all old people are handicap, that and I have no idea what the plural of Prius is.

True Story

Sometimes, they turn into aliens.

Sorry that's not mine, I just figured none of you would recognize the joke since there are only thirty of you. Anyway so last Saturday I was driving around, minding my business and cruising through a green light at 40 miles an hour, when I was suddenly interrupted by an F-150 that was also passing through the intersection but from a strange angle.

Don't crash me bro!

As the left rear of my truck was lifted into the air during that brief moment, I thought to myself, that's curious, surely this guy has a good excuse for such buggery. As it turns out, he had a great excuse; he was shit-ass drunk.

Shitty. Shittier than Charles Krauthammer's pajama legs. Shittier than Repo Men even.

I took charge of the situation and pulled over so we could exchange information and wait for the police to arrest him. He thusly hauled ass and got away.

Embarrassed by my own naiveté, and also by the forehead-slapping laughing drivers passing me, I decided to take the law into my own hands. I mumbled something about liberals while I slipped on my Rorschach mask (mentally) and drove off into the night (the day) to locate and bring my assailant to justice (find him and immediately call 911).

Police composite sketch of my
attacker, enhanced and tattooed
on my leg for effect

My aptitude for detective work paid off when I finally found him, parked in the driveway of his house about 200 yards down the same street. Heart racing, I watched as he jumped out of his truck, leaving the door open to spill beer cans onto the pavement while he ran inside.

Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I ducked under the dash and called the police.

Two squad cars arrived within minutes, sparing me from having to battle my adversary alone. I let them take the lead, and took a sip of my Diet Mountain Dew as they drew their pistols and stalked up to the front door. I figured I'd let them handle it from this point as I'd done quite enough already.

Gunshots rang out, followed by the screams of a woman, as the bullet-riddled body of a police officer flew through the front window and landed in the grass with a lifeless thud. Without hesitating I reached for my Mack-11 and switched it to full-auto, jumping out of my truck and rolling over the hood in one smooth motion before bounding across the lawn and into the house. Obviously this paragraph is bullshit and for that I'm sorry.

What actually happened was far less dramatic. The cops walked out with the suspect, spoke to him for a few minutes, then put the cuffs on. One cop drove him away while the other one took down my information. As far as the other guy's information, some choice bits include 1. no insurance, 2. no license, and 3. no papers. So yeah, he's probably getting deported.

I felt a pang of guilt thinking about that last part as I drove home. Not because I was responsible for it, but because I was drinking a beer.

Lost 17 pounds and I don't have cancer or AIDs.. yet

So I was at the doctor today when she (Yes, I said she. I know, crazy right? Like a woman could actually go to med school. That is just silly.) tells me that I have lost seventeen pounds in the last year. I am pretty sure my fitness level has now made me invincible. As the female doctor handed me my presidential fitness award I got a bit teary. When I was nine doing those flexed arm hangs in gym class I dreamed of this day. I am just a bit sad that President Regan wasn't with us to give me the award himself.


I have been working out more than usual but I can't take all the credit, a lot of it has to do with Jenny Craig, throwing up and snorting creatine. Without it I would still be fat.

Shame for the Barry Rides

Today a friend told me she was setting up a blog to keep track of life lessons for her daughter. Something about don't swallow on the first date, never let him see your prescription for Herpicin, and if he is asleep his wallet is fair game. I helped her navigate her way through blogger since I am kinda a big deal at Blogger headquarters and guess how does she repay me. She tells me that under no circumstances will her wholesome life lesson blog be linked to The Barry Rides. It was like she removed her glove and slapped me across the face with it. I haven't been this hurt since I got my anus bleached. I don't understand what could be wrong with linking The Barry Rides to a blog about life lessons for little girls. I mean seriously my feelings are hurt. If I wasn't drunk I would cry.

I need justice for Omar

I take one sixty hour break over three months only to find out that Jake decided to use his blogging privileges to write about how bad he smells and his career ambition to be a gypsy cab driver. I say no more!!! It is time for me to write about what is important, like what I did with my hiatus. During my brief time away I had my asshole bleached and I watched all sixty episodes of The Wire. It could possibly be the best TV show ever made and has helped me narrow down what I want to be when I grow up or I get fired from my current job; murder police or bandit that specializes in robbing drug dealers. Really those should be the only two choices for all people. It is a tough call. On the one hand I get a gun. Wait a minute. . . This is tougher than I thought. While I decide, run out to your local RKO Video and get The Wire on VHS. It will be the best sixty hours of your useless life.


This post is dedicated to Colleen. She has loved The Wire since before it was cool to like black people.

Taking the Plunger

” I have less patience with someone who doesn’t wear a watch than with anyone else, for this type isn’t time conscious”
- Alex Haley quoting Malcolm X in the epilogue of 'The Autobiography of Malcolm X'

Sometimes I'm amazed by the things that some people can make due without. I'm not talking about the ascetic that renounces material possessions and sets off to live in a cave, nor do I mean those smug bastards that love to tell people "I don't own a television". No, I'm referring to those people that seem to go throughout their daily lives without the things we normally take for granted as necessities for living in modern society. I have a friend that lived on his own for 5+ years without owning plates or cutlery, he just ate takeout and drank bottled water all the time (he may have had a coffee mug that also served as a cereal bowl, but I can't say for sure). I used to know a guy that lived in a corrugated steel shed up in the mountains of Arizona and didn't own a toothbrush or soap. Of course there are a ton of reasons why someone might find themselves living like this: poverty, mental illness, raised by wolves, etc.. but sometimes you come across someone that's just clueless.

Years ago I had a neighbor that I didn't especially like. She wasn't a terrible person or anything, just not the type of person that you want to live next door to in an 100+ year old building that has thin walls. For the first few months she lived next to me I thought she must have been a single mother with a retarded infant, turns out she just had a cat that she liked to speak to. Anyhow, one night I was awakened by some loud banging on my apartment door at 1am. I opened the door to find my neighbor looking embarrassed, "Do you have a plunger I can borrow?" she asked, now I'm not a germophobe or anything, but this was a pretty intimate request from a relative stranger and it kind of caught me off guard. Not only did I not know her well enough to share that sort of bond with her, but honestly, she was built like a mack truck and I wasn't so sure I wanted the residue of anything that came out of her, sitting on the plunger that I kept in my bathroom. It being However, 1am and me being still half asleep I foolishly agreed to allow her to take one of my possessions, smear her feces all over it and then return it so that I could store it in my home. I'm a sucker, but I digress....

The thing I'm struck by is how can anyone in their right mind own a toilet but not a plunger? The sheer hubris it must take to think that one doesn't need a plunger is staggering. It's like driving around with out a spare tire, or performing a high-wire act without a net. Getting this glimpse into the inner workings of her mind terrified me. How could I feel safe living next to such an irresponsible person? In the months after this horrible exchange I would often return to my building expecting to see a fire crew cleaning up after some horrible gas explosion that she caused by leaving her stove on, or something equally horrifying.

Although she moved out of the building before she could do any real damage, her plunger request has left an indelible mark on my brain. While Malcolm may not be able to suffer fools who waste other's time, I cannot abide living near animals that foolishly tempt fecal fate by not owning a plunger. It's as if they have a naive sense of entitlement that leads them to believe that their toilets will always accept whatever they try to put down them. It's wrong and dangerous, and in my book, that shit don't flush.

Be responsible.