Monday, July 24, 2006


You know, this world we live in is simply too obsessed with one's appearance. It's simply gone too far. I've never been concerned with how people saw me (obvious statement of the decade). I just really don't care. People say, at my age, I should start caring, but still don't care.

So, knowing that, you can imagine the shock when Brawny flipped the script and replaced the old, furry Brawny man with a new chisled, clean shaven Brawny.

I mean, it's not the end of the world, but I resent the suggestion that furry fellas can't get down. Especially this guy.

Yeah, he's not pulling all the ladies, but the dude changes his own oil, makes his own patio furniture out of his neighbor's trees and once killed a grizzly with an open hand to the chin. Maybe not date material for the ladies, but he cleans up a mess like no otha. Almost Chucklike.

But, I suppose Brawny thought it was time for an update which resulted in a nationwide search for the new Brawny man. Yours truly even auditioned because I wanted to keep it real. I knew they were going for the preppier, fratboy look and I made it my mission to keep it furry. Ultimately though, the new school would win and this jerk would occupy the coveted space on the Brawny packaging. I resent him with every puny muscle in my body.

This jerkoff swiped your prom date from right under your pimply nose, he enjoys listening to Nickelback b ecause they make him feel young again, has a six-bedroom house in the suburbs and, yes, I confirmed it, he's a Yankee fan. Figures. He's also that guy who can't find a towel at the gym so he walks around completely naked from one corner of the locker room to the other. He can change a lightbulb, but replacing the lighting fixture is something he calls his electrician friend for. Whatta sally. He's the office idiot who has made a few inappropriate comments to some of his female co-workers, but since he's in good with management, they keep him around. He's still good for a firm handshake and an occasional joke. His towel cleans up most of the coffee on the counter, but still leaves the residual stickiness. And you wouldn't dare trust this guy around your wife.

Well, unfortunately for the beer drinkers of the world, they did the same thing to one of the most beloved icons in the history of bottled beverages. They done gone and replaced the St. Pauli girl. It's tragic for some of you, I know. I love me some St. Pauli. For years, it's served as my skunky celebratory beer, but now I'm searching for other options. Here's the St. Pauli girl I fell in love with.

She's polite, yes. And you gotta love a girl that can grip six beers at once. She'll call you a cab, but if you cross her, she'll scrap and leave you in pieces. Say "please" and "thank you" because she's been around too long to take crap from patrons. Hair in a bun because when she's throwing punches, she can't have her goldilocks getting in the way. Few years back, though, we saw our sweet Pauli go through a slight modification.

Apparently, the Pauli folks felt it was unnecessary to show her entire body so they cut her in half to enlarge her image and put added emphasis on her bosom. I suppose, it was here you could see it coming. They were looking to replace her. Personality wasn't enough for St. Pauli. She went from icon to poster girl and she just wasn't cut out for it. The forced her into retirement and replaced her with this girl.

She's a freaking sorority sister. She's Maxim. She doesn't even drink beer because of the resulting weight gain. She's a contest winner. She might as well be holding a bottle of Castrol. She's got her hair down so not only is she not ready to fight, but you might find one of those long ass blonde hairs in your beer. Whatta disgrace.

Got back from Dallas last night. Had a wild time which included five-plus hours at Six Flags. My lovely wife tears it up. She can ride anything multiple times on a full belly. I can't make it two rides in without coming up naseous on an empty belly. I don't know how she does it. You know, as strange as it sounds, there's one thing I'll always remember about this Six Flags trip. When you combine 40% humidity with 100-degree heat and clingy clothing, you're gonna see alot of people picking their panties out of their butt. I know, it's strange, but everywhere I looked, it was people doing the wedgie waddle trying to discreetly give themselves a little attention out back. Freaking gross. I probably saw close to 150 people digging it out. I was not one. C'mon, I wear everything two sizes too big. Not for that reason, specifically, but it's one of the benefits.

I'll be out most of the week, but will post on Friday after the Roundhouse's first two games of sophomore campaign. That's right. It's on again.


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