Three Months!!!

So they say three months is the mark of legitimacy for blogs. We're not really sure who "They" are, and there's a good chance we just made that statement up, but it sounds good.

We're 90 days into this experiment of divulging enough information to ruin our chances of ever finding a girl we don't have to roofie colada (when you spell it "roofy" Justin is given in the third example on Urban Dictionary...coincidence) but wethinks it a success. We still have a reader or two, and even though we now speak like this in our everyday life, and everyone we come across is weirded-out by our use of the fourth-person plural, we're gonna keep the bitch going. As always suggestions are welcome, and for those of you who have sent in requests, your wait is almost over, we think we've finally taken a picture or our penises where the light captures the true essence of our being.

We've got a good post of Text Message Romances waiting in the wings, but The Big Lebowski and a fresh bowl of bud is waiting...so we'll see you in August. Keep reading, post a comment or two, and tell your friends...and by friends we mean your mothers.

So a Caveman Walks Into a Bar...

Here's a link to, allegedly, the world's 10 oldest jokes:

http://uktv.co.uk/dave/item/aid/604717

Not really very funny, but kind of interesting, that dick jokes transcend time.

Drinking Alone - Historical Drunk

Alcohol related advice so good, that if you take heed, you won't need anyone else around to enjoy the experience... You can even be alone in your parents house, where you are "temporarily" living, while you "save money."

Tonight we raise a half-empty bottle of JD in honor of Winston Churchill. Sure his racist and imperialist policies towards developing nations served as a catalyst for much of the problems The West has had with the Third World, specifically Iran, but damn that pudgy little bastard could drink.

No longer having cable TV, we watched a PBS documentary the other night called Chasing Churchill, and it was pretty sweet. What a fascinating dude, and we're certain he did his fair share of drinking alone.

Born to a British father (no doubt where he got his teeth) and an American mother (no doubt where he got his weight), his younger days were filled with audacious adventures and hobnobbing about with the likes of William Randolph Hearst and Charlie Chaplin. His latter years filled with fighting much of the British establishment, dueling Hitler, challenging FDR to pissing contests, and delivering impassioned speeches that included famous lines such as, "Without Victory, there is no survival," and of course the immortal:

Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, This was their finest hour.

But what impressed us most about the fat little fellow was his liver. He was a known drunk who regularly enjoyed a bourbon or two before breakfast, and his quip to the Lady Bessie Braddock after she called him a drunk is legendary, "And you, madam, are ugly. But I will be sober in the morning." Churchill was one of the original dirtbags.

So Cheers, Church, may we accomplish half of what you accomplished drunk, while we're sober.

A (somewhat) Hearty Welcome

Our main man Wolfram, while bringing undoubted quality, has fallen down on the quantity, so we're bringing in another guest author. We're not exactly sure what he'll call himself and given his hatred of schedules, deadlines, clocks, etc., we have no idea when to expect his inaugural posting, but be on the lookout. We're not certain how long we'll keep his lazy ass on, but we'll see what he can do.

While a bit pedantic, with his law school verbiage and NY Times crossword enthusiasm, his knowledge of Saved by the Bell is unmatched, and his head of Stamos lettuce is the sweetest hair of anyone in our cell phones.

Location Location Location

As some of you know we moved the NLNC headquarters a little while back, and after what just transpired a mere 50 feet from our entrance, we're wondering if we made a good decision.

Working late here at the office -- concocting new mixed drinks, crafting love letters, consuming pop culture -- all for betterment of improving the depth and breadth of our material, we were suddenly startled with a bevy of sirens and lights.

Perhaps against our better judgement, we ventured outside to see what was the matter and were treated to the spectacle that is four marked police cars. After snapping a few investigative pictures we started getting antsy for some action...then an enormous handcuffed black dude was hauled out of a house by two cops, and then another of Austin's (less than) finest called out to a teammate saying, "I think there's another one on the roof."

If these brothers were doing something that warranted four cars and the authorities were having trouble locating one of the perps, it was time to go inside.

We get a pretty good wireless signal from under our desk.

Your NLNC Word of the Day

Today's word was spoken earlier today by our boss, Star(e)ica. This woman continues to freak the hell out of us, this word choice only adding to our fear, but no matter the messenger, we always laugh when someone drops a good DEADFISH usage.

Deadfish - v - the act of having sex with someone while they are unconscious.

His comely female companion passed out during foreplay, and not wanting to go home empty-handed, the young man deadfished her.

A Little Awkward

Is there anything more awkward than running into an ex-girlfriend in line at the grocery store?

How about running into an ex-girlfriend and forgetting her name. If you're out there, Julia, we apologize, but in our defense it has been over a year, and that scowl was a bit unnecessary.


Disclaimer: fifteen minutes after this picture was taken she ate that poor dog.

Your Monday Ogle

With the hamster under the weather last week, we weren't able to ogle, so this week we're bringing in the heaviest of hitters. Even though with each new cosmetic surgery, she is looking more and more like an alien (or Olsen Twin), for our money Angelina Jolie is the sexiest thing on the planet. Perhaps it's the relief work, perhaps it's that she scares the shit out of us, or perhaps it's those penetrating eyes and those legs that go on forever.

New Development

We didn't expect things to get stranger, and by stranger we mean creepy, between us and Star(e)ica, but they did today. Thankfully it wasn't of the sexual nature, but it's still freaking us out.

So it's mid-morning and she calls us into her office and tells us to close the door and have a seat. At previous jobs this is when we start thinking about how best we can ridicule and mock the company and its employees in a quick, last-second mass email, before we're escorted out, because we're about to be handed our walking papers, but this time all we could think of was what horrendous sex-act Star(e)ica was about to force us to perform on her. To our surprise however, she remained clothed and asked us this:

"I really feel weird about asking this, but you fellas are young and fun, would you sell me some pot?"

There are many questions here- Do we look/act like people who smoke marijuana? Do we give off the impression that we would sell marijuana? How the hell is that question appropriate in the workplace? What the fuck should we do?

All these questions and more were racing through our heads, but mostly we were just relieved she wasn't requesting an Angry Dragon, Tony Danza, Birmingham Booty-Call, etc. We just laughed nervously and gave her the ambiguous, "We'll see what we can do."

Sexually Harassed

As many of you know, we have long had trouble with authority figures. It's long been a bit of a mystery to us -- we're not your classic troublemakers. In-fact we've never really been able to pinpoint the exact reasoning for our inability to peacefully coexist with anyone who gives us orders.

We've now been employed at our latest stop for one month, and unfortunately once again, problems with our supervisor are starting to arise. This time however, instead of hostility coming about do to our less-than-stellar work decorum, or because of an alpha-male pissing contest, we've got something totally new. Our manager, for reasons of anonymity, we'll call her Star(e)ica, is our first boss to be both female and less than ten years older than us. To date, Star(e)ica is the nicest boss we've ever had, but last week we started to understand that the goodwill she's showing us might not be because of our talent and work ethic, but rather because she has a serious Jones for us. Here's some examples:

On Monday morning, while we stood facing the copier, she goosed us while walking past. Startled, as we are not accustomed to having our ass grabbed that early in the day, we shot her a wide-eyed glance -- she responded with a creepy, "I think I hurt my hand look+gesture." Flattered, yes, but concerned.

Wednesday, when we first began our courtship of the new nubile receptionist, Star(e)ica took notice, pulled us aside and immediately reported that she had a boyfriend and would be going back to college any day. We responded that we wouldn't hold the boyfriend thing against her, and were still interested in letting her go out on a date with us. Frustrated, Star(e)ica said, "Well I guess the best looking guys this office has ever seen should go out with a hot young girl." We couldn't have agreed more with her, but still coming from the person that signs your time card is eyebrow raising.

Thursday night we received a Facebook friend request from Star(e)ica. Wishing we could keep her from gawking at our online profile, but feeling obliged to accept, we relented and became online friends. Before the night was up, we had a picture comment waiting for us from her. It was a very tame picture, of us at a concert, but it now had a comment from our boss reading, "You guys look hot in this one." Ummmm, we erased it.

Friday, talking to Star(e)ica, after being asked the perfunctory, "What are you doing this weekend?" we felt obliged to reciprocate. Her answer, "I don't know, but I need to buy a new vibrator."

We don't know what to do. We're not attracted to her in the least, so nailing her is out of the question. And we're not sure how long we can play dumb to her advances, eventually her not-so-subtle moves are bound to get more pronounced (Lord help us).

Have any of you been sexually harassed by a coworker or supervisor? If so, how did you handle it?

The Return of a Legend

Luckily we turned on the TV this afternoon and stumbled upon the Marlins vs. Cubs game. It was an absolute treat, and the most fun we've had watching a baseball game in a longtime. It was an exciting game between two contending clubs, and it's always fun to watch a day game from Wrigley when the Cubbies win, but what really made the event was the return of Harold Reynolds.

Despite being the best baseball analyst (after Steve Stone) and having one of the most engaging personalities on television, regardless of genre, he was jettisoned from ESPN about two years ago, and we hadn't scene him since.

Paired with Skip Caray (coincidentally our favorite play-by-play guy) today, HR hasn't lost a thing in his time away. Great explanations of the game's intricacies along with that same jovial persona that endears him to his co-host and the audience.

Welcome back Harold, thanks to you, we'll be looking forward to the Sunday afternoon games on TBS for the rest of the season.

Oddly Enough - Hope Smashed

When we read the title of this one, our excitement went through the roof. Visions of live poultry being either worn as underpants, or even just stuffed down someones underpants, had us giddy.

http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSSYD22974420080723

Blah blah blah...What Australia calls an underwear chicken dare, we call Tuesday night.

Energy Drinks are so EXTREME!!!

With our exemplary effort of late, The Man has decided to give us our own office. Sure it used to house brooms and mops, but hey, we've got a door, a light (now), and with the extension chord plugged-in, we're able to type out our little NLNC ditties.

So, our clos errrrr, office, is right in-between the marketing and sales departments, and these sales dudes are slaying us. There are about five of them running around and we have a difficult time telling them apart. White...check, 35ish...check, 4th grade boy hair (you know, the over-gelled spike look)...check, double-pleated Dockers...check, golf shirt...check, 20 lbs over weight...check, refer to most every guy they pass as bud, buddy or bro...check, refer to us, under their breaths of-course, as names that rhyme with sneer and, ummmm laggot. We love these dudes, and could go on-and-on, but what endears them to us most is their love for energy drinks.

It's out-of-control!!! These dudes are so intense, that it's high comedy around here all the time. An all-to-common scene around here is Salesmanslapdick Bob pulling into the office at 8am, pounding one of those ridiculous 16oz cans of internal combustion, and then frantically pacing around with his eyes bulging out of his dome, while screaming some business double talk into his blue tooth headset.

Bro, ________ is such a good product. It's going to save you time and money, and both you and I know that time equals money. Am I right?!?!? Am I right?!?!?! _________ is gonna free up your ________ department to do what it is you pay them to do, which is to make ________. Am I right?!?!?!? Am I right?!?!?!? Now we've been going around in circles for weeks about this, so what's it gonna take for us to get this done?...Oh, and can I interest you in a set of steak knives too?

As he signs off the call, he pops the top for round two, wishes the sore-eared customer the best, hangs-up, slams energy drink two, and then -- if the deal wasn't made -- smashes his desk into little pieces, and -- if the deal was made -- he smashes his desk into little pieces.

After the obligatory high fives and chest bumps from his chronies, for breaking his desk, we like to walk past their desk about 10 minutes later to see them passed-out on the floor, dick usually in hand, after the rush of sugar and caffeine has subsided.

Oddly Enough - Male Lesbians

We remember sitting in church as children, bored beyond belief, and looking over the ancient maps that come at the end of most Bibles. When scanning the map with all the Greek Isles we often wondered about Lesbos, and whether there was a connection. Turns out there is:

http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSN2231197820080722

What a frightening land.

If you've been with us since the beginning of the blog, you know of our fear of lesbians. If not go back and read Attack of the Killer Lesbian Coffee Shop, it's one of our best. The thought of a holy land, so to speak, for them to pilgrimage gives us chills.

NLNC Word of the Day

Today's word is TRANSFIX.

Transfix - v - to make or hold motionless with amazement and awe.

The new secretary, with her brilliant blue dress and tantalizingly tanned legs, had transfixed the young man to the point where he was completely tongue-tied.

Bored at Work?

We've been in your position...many, many times.

But fear not, we think we've found a cure.

The secret to (gasp!) enjoying your job, is to fall head-over-heels for your company's new 21-year-old secretary who's on summer vacation from TCU.

You probably won't get any work done, but when have you ever, and the HR lady will probably start preparing the sexual harassment forms after noticing that you've started taking a new route to the water cooler, and you've taken this new route 87 times today, but whatever.

We're thinking overtime.

Cat Fight?

Since it was the WNBA, perhaps "Horse Fight" or "Giraffe Fight" would be more appropriate. We no longer have TV at headquarters so we missed the big "fight" last night, and we're guessing that it's been all over the news, but in case anyone else missed it, the video is below. We like how, once their testosterone jumped to abnormal levels, and they decided to throw-down, all balance went out the window, and everyone just started falling down. No real fighting, just falling...high comedy.

Technical Difficulties

We apologize for the lack of activity the last few days. We are renovating headquarters, and a new Internet provider is taking some time to come about. Couple this with the fact that the little hampster who powers our Apple IIe is feeling under the weather, and posts will be sporadic at best for the near future.

Role Model - The Giambino

This is Jason Giambi, first baseman for the New York Yankees and owner of the best mustache in baseball since Clue Haywood, in a Las Vegas nightclub last week during the three-day all-star break. The Giambino was the highest paid baseball player last season and is second or third highest this year. First, at $23 million per, shouldn't he be playing in the all-star game, and second what's going on with his free hand. Below are the two funniest picture comments we've read on the Internet. If you don't know anything about baseball they won't make any sense, but if you follow the pastime a bit, you might laugh out loud, as we did.

Jeremy was tending bar that night.

His other hand is on Tim Lincecum's head.

The Friday Haiku

From Balzac:

Pepperoni rolls
Eight may have been a mistake.
Throne of kings, angry.

Watch It

HBO's new series, Generation Kill, is the shit. With The Wire (the TV drama of all-time, without a doubt) finished, Deadwood long gone, and The Sopranos not being relevant to us in about five years, Home Box Office needed to bring it, and they have.

The first episode was sweet and we are anxiously awaiting the rest of the series. The dude who plays Ray stole the first episode (and was Ziggy on The Wire). You take his character and mix it with Cliff from Dead Man on Campus, the Terminator from The Terminator, and some kind of cat-loving, bare-chested tango dancer and you'll get a bit of an idea about our man Monkey Boy.

Monkey, if you hadn't fallen off that horse in Ecuador, and still been a part of the USMC, There'd be 51 states by now, and we'd be looking for property on the Euphrates.

HOO RAH...sempre fi

Seriously, if you have HBO watch this show.

Oddly Enough - Subway's new bread flavor

http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSN1644936620080717

"If I didn't look at it, I don't know what would have happened," said Agnesini.

Umm, you would've cut your mouth, you assface...This dude is an even bigger cunt than that Jared guy who is for some reason still making Subway commercials. We get it, you were fat.

Your NLNC Word of the Day

Today's word comes from one of our foreign, and best looking, readers. The word is LOTHARIO and it was sent to us via Facebook message.

Lothario - noun - a man who who obsessively seduces and deceives women.

The young man is not near handsome nor charming enough to be be the succesful Lothario he fancies himself to be.

This one will be tough to use in a sentence today, but give it a shot.

Manny Evidence

Following up on the Manny Ramirez post from a few days ago, we give you some visuals:

While it's customary to remain at your position on the field during a pitching change, here's our man chillin inside the Green Monster and making a call. Ironic that his dome makes the "o" in the word LOST.

Most left fielders want to be able to communicate with their center fielder in case a ball is popped-up in between them. Not our man, look closely and you'll notice him wearing a pair of Oakley Thumps during a game. The sunglasses with an mp3 player attached.

Your NLNC Word of the Day

Sorry today's word is coming late, like the next day, but in our defense we had some Sparks last night. Today's word is ABSCOND.

Abscond - verb - to depart in a sudden and secret manner.

After intimate relations with his yoga instructor, the young man absconded out the side door while she was off in another room getting water for him.

Drinking Alone - Warning

Alcohol related advice so good, that if you take heed, you won't need anyone else around to enjoy the experience... You can even be alone in your parents house, where you are "temporarily" living, while you "save money."

If you value your health and don't want to have the shakes for 24 hours don't drink this:

Now there was a time when sugar + caffeine + yellow no. 5 + corn syrup + 7.0% alcohol, was a barrel of fun. You know, the days of exposing yourself to buses full of elderly timeshare shoppers, the days of ripping down ceiling fans, the days of showing up to work with a subtle tint of green in your skin and then throwing up in your trash receptacle, and of-course the days of showing up to work bleeding because you can't get the two inch gash on your hand to stop bleeding after you punched out that front window for no other reason than you had had some Sparks and it felt like the right thing to do.

Well those days are gone for us. We had about a third of a Sparks, for old-time sake, last night and it ruined us.

We're not really sure why this shit is legal and we recommend against it's purchase, but if you do buy some, like if you need to read A Tale of Two Cities in five minutes or if you want to run a 4.4 forty yard sprint, pour it into a glass first. Watching the yellowish elixir eat away at the glass is pretty fun.

Your NLNC Word of the Day

Today's word is VEX.

Vex - verb - to annoy; irritate; provoke.

The persistent phone calls from the yoga instructor have vexed the, usually patient, young man.

Oddly Enough - Japanese Real Estate

R Kelly's got nothing on this lady.

http://www.reuters.com/article/lifestyleMolt/idUST24812020080530


At least mom knows we're down in the basement.

The Monday Ogle part 2

We're watching North by Northwest and Cary Grant is the fucking man. We like George Clooney, he's actually one of our favorite actors (his performance in O Brother Where Art Though, being the most underrated performance of the past ten years), but all that shit about him being the new Cary Grant is rubbish. The paragon of class, shit, we couldn't find a picture of him, not dressed-to-the-nines in a perfectly tailored suit, until page seven of Google Images. Cary Grant...now that's a good lookin dude.

That's Just No-Look Being No-Look

As the authors of a blog that has no real focus or theme, we're always trying to think of trivial bullshit -- what's our favorite this, or what's our least favorite that. Recently we gave some thought as to which dude in the public eye, has the best life. Politicians have way too much pressure, with actors it's more about the characters they play, and musicians/artists have too many inner demons and are often pretty inept socially, so we narrowed it down to athletes pretty quickly. Unlike other public figures, who not always, but many times, have fame and fortune because they were in the right-place-at-the-right-time, or because they knew the right people and had the right agent, an athlete's fame and fortune is earned through god-given talent, and skill acquired through hard work. Most often athletes have earned their success more than any others.

Tiger Woods would be an easy choice -- undoubtedly the best at what he does, the utmost respect (bordering on fear) from his peers, filthy rich, and that Swedish supermodel wife thing is pretty solid too. Tom Brady would be a pretty good choice -- superstar quarterback, three Super Bowls, allegedly handsome (we think he looks a bit retarded), and most importantly Gisele Bundchen to go home to. But neither of these guys beats our choice, Manny Ramirez.

For our international readers who probably don't follow America's pastime too carefully, Manny Ramirez is the starting left fielder for the Boston Red Sox. He isn't the best baseball player, by a long shot, but he is one of the top three or four sluggers and over the last five years he has been the best player on the best team. He's also one of the highest paid players too, but none of this is why we'd choose to be Ramirez. See the coolest thing about Manny is that he is not responsible for his actions. He is one part savant and one part airhead, and when you throw in his huge smile and affable personality, he just naturally deflects all animosity and criticism. He's immune to it. Every time he screws-up or just doesn't feel like giving forth, not just the expected, but the required effort, he just smiles and laughs, and then so do his teammates, his coaches, and the media. They respond with the now cliche, "Oh, that's just Manny being Manny..."

It's incredible -- if Manny doesn't want to run-out a grounder to short, if Manny doesn't feel like chasing a ball into the gap, if Manny says he wants to play for the arch-rival Yankees -- none of it matters. It's just Manny being Manny. Nobody else gets a free pass on everything. We would not be surprised at all if Manny has been caught slamming Varitek, Schilling and Francona's wives. When caught, everyone would just share a good laugh and say, "Oh that's just Manny being Manny."

Show-up two hours late to work...That's just No-Look being No-Look. Fall asleep at our desk...That's just No-Look being No-Look. Punch our boss at a company party...That's just No-Look being No-Look. Kick a house cat at a party...That's just No-Look being No-Look. Get into a street fight in Argentina...That's just No-Look being No-Look. Nail some Mexican swamp donkey...That's just No-Look being No-Look.

It would be great.

The Monday Ogle

Looking out for our female readers this week, we give to you one of the best looking boys of Summer. We're watching the Home Run Derby (everything about this Josh Hamilton dude is amazing -- he is Roy Hobbes), and earlier in the coverage we were taken aback by the handsome features of Grady Sizemore from the Cleveland Indians. He's a good looking dude and hopefully our estrogen-filled readers will enjoy:

Your NLNC Word of the Day

As life coaches to the masses we feel a responsibility to cultivate well-rounded men and women amongst our readers. Part of this is helping you grow the depth and breadth of your vocabulary. Today's word is EPHEMERAL. Take a look at the definition, read the contextual usage, and try and use it sometime today.

Ephemeral - adj - lasting a short time.

His deep feelings towards his yoga instructor proved to be ephemeral. The young man quickly lost interest after nailing her.

Young Style

OK in case you're not from the Midwest, or have never caught a game at Wrigley, the beer they serve there is called Old Style. Watch this video we've linked and you'll understand our title here.

http://homerderby.com/archives/2339

Now the question is to be asked: Who is cooler, the kid, or his dad?

Quick side note: We've twice been to Wrigleyville and Wrigley Field for an afternoon of drinking, an evening of baseball, and a night of drinking. It is without a doubt our favorite place in the United States of America. No matter if you like baseball or not, or if you even live in this country, you should spend at least one day of your life meandering the streets of the old neighborhood eating a dog, drinking some Old Style on one of the many patio bars, watching the lovable losers take the field between the ivy and brick, and singing Take Me Out to the Ballgame, at the top of your lungs with a fat Polish dude on one side and a University of Wisconsin sorority girl on the other. Lets go Cubbies...Harden is flat out dealing!!!

Oddly Enough - Atkins Diet

No carbs...

http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSN1138346620080711


Doctors took X-rays of her chest that showed her insides littered with screw...what?

The Friday Haiku

Eager beaver calls.
Only ten miles by car.
Sorry, gas too much.


Have a good weekend everyone.

Casual Connection

When we are looking to occupy our idle minds and steal money from The Man, and are faced with an Internet blocker, we often turn our attention to .org's. This of course means that it's time to spend some time with two of the top-ten inventions of all-time (we should do a post on this soon), Wikipedia and Craig's List. From Wikipedia today, we read up on Zoroastrianism and one of our heroes, Atticus Finch, and learned what Bildungsroman Literature is. On Craig's List we shopped for concert tickets, read about a midget gang-bang, and were inspired to write our very own personal advertisement.

Not having had sex in like 48 hours, we're getting pretty desperate, so today we decided to turn to Craig's List. Our advertisement is pretty specific, we have very narrow tastes, and so we weren't expecting much of a response, but surprisingly our mailbox is overflowing with young vixens wanting to go on a date with, "the next Hemingway...Thoreau...Flynt." We're a bit overwhelmed by the positive responses we've gotten, so we feel it our duty to share our little ad with you, the readers, in-case you ever feel like doing something similar and need a guide.

Free Pearl Necklace for Some Lucky (must be hot) Lady - 27 ATX

Good afternoon good women of the Central Texas Hill Country. We are horny and need to get our dicks wet. We are reasonably attractive (6'1", 175, white, sandy brown hair, one green eye, one blue eye, physically fit, and currently shorn in our nether regions -- the razor burn has almost cleared). Hopefully you have taken that Gardasil shit (cheers! Governor Perry...for once you Republican cunt) because, with our rap sheet we're certainly carrying HPV, so hold onto your cervixes!!!

We're not really the relationship type, looking for Mrs. Right, or even Miss Right Now, shit girls we're at work, but we are looking for Miss Tonight, and depending on how attractive you are, maybe a few subsequent nights thereafter. Hell, if you're a stunner, and we don't feel the urge to swallow our heads when you speak, you might even get some Bennigan's at some point out of this whole thing.

If intellect is important in whoever is sticking you, just know that we've been a lot smarter than any boss we've ever had.

You should be Asian, white, Asian, Latina, Asian, black, or Asian. Speaking English is optional. Cute hair is a must. Some curve is nice but please be skinny enough to where we can see some ribs when you're on your back. Women who hate their fathers, and those who have had any kind of eating disorder, are strongly encouraged to apply.

Since we've provided a picture, you must do the same (and give measurements) in your email responses.

Oh, and if you're not white, you must be able to host...mom and dad are quite racist and won't let you come over.

Oddly Enough - Sweet Dreams

This story is interesting on a number of levels. We hope that the wife gave a snappy, James Bond style, retort as she iced the dude.

http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSL0919437820080709

Sweet Dreams, Nighty-night, take a nap, etc. Sleep Tight, since he was crushed, is the best one we can think of.

The Monkey Boy

The United States is in a sorry state of affairs right now (at least that's what the news says) and we are in desperate need of heroes. You know, people we can look up to, who inspire us to do better things and to be better people. Well we can't really think of anyone who fits that bill, but we do know a dude who's antics are so unbelievably ridiculous that we bust-up laughing at the thought of the things he has said and done -- and with 50 million Americans uninsured, and the remainder paying way to much for health care, gas prices over $4 dollars a gallon, an absurd debt to the Chinese crushing the value of the dollar, unemployment growing, mortgages bouncing, and an unjust war lingering -- someone who makes others laugh and forget the problems of the day is a true American Hero.

The man we're writing about is our friend and he is truly the most unique figure we've ever encountered. Another friend of his, and NLNC reader, has asked us to recount a few of the best stories here and we will do so over the coming weeks. This post is just a precursor, and it also serves as a disclaimer: The Monkey Boy is utterly ridiculous, but despite the fact that some of the things he has done in our presence have been awkward, sexist, embarrassing, cocky, painful, maddening, angering and just plain stupid -- he is one of the most loyal, honest and sensitive people we know...he is also far stronger than us, a much more accomplished fighter, and has the fiscal means to jump on a plane to Central Texas anytime he pleases to come pound us.

So Monkey, if you're out there reading, this will all be written in good fun and your name will remain anonymous (it rhymes with Small Braves).

So be on the look-out for Monkey Tales, it'll be a huge challenge to portray the true essence of him as a character on the blog, and to paint the scenes so that people unassociated with the stories will find them funny (the whole inside joke thing) but we'll give it a shot.

Drinking Alone - Caipirinhas

Alcohol related advice so good, that if you take heed, you won't need anyone else around to enjoy the experience... You can even be alone in your parents house, where you are "temporarily" living, while you "save money."

It's Wednesday night, and you all know what that means...Tonight, as we ever-so-gracefully pound out our weekly alcohol related post, we are whimsically whistling (how 'bout that for some alliteration) The Girl From Ipanema. Why is this? Because tonight in the spirit of Brazil, we are enjoying a pitcher of the national drink of South America's largest nation. This would of course be the Caipirinha.

Samba, Pele, bronzed and buxom beach beauties (we're going off), are all fine and dandy, especially the beauties, but when we think of Brazil--the first thing that comes to mind is the Caipirinha. It is a wonderful refreshing drink best enjoyed either relaxing at the Copa Cabana or alone in your bedroom looking at pictures of the Copa Cabana. Here's how to make them:

1.) Grab a bunch of limes and cut them into wedges.
2.) Poor some sugar onto the limes and smash it all together. We recommend powdered sugar.
3.) Completely fill glass with ice.
4.) Add Cachaca, a Brazilian liquor similar to white rum, and stir. We recommend Pitu.
5.) Enjoy

Other fruits such as strawberry or kiwi can be substituted for the limes. We've never tried kiwi, but strawberry is bomb!!!

Also, a slightly different version of the drink is preferred by our editor at NLNC and we'd be remiss not to mention it. It is called the Kitepirinha, and this is how to make it:

1.) Clumsily push limes, sugar and ice to the side.
2.) Unscrew cap from Cachaca, and if at a party -- either insult someone near or perform a stupid little dance. If at home -- offer some to mom.
3.) Take a healthy pull directly from bottle.
4.) Kind of enjoy

Head Scratcher

Apparently not pleased with our choice in clothes today, our current supervisor offered up this piece of workplace advice:

"Dress for the job you want, not the job you have."

Uhhhhh...the job we want?

So confused by this statement, we just stood there dumbfounded with furrowed brows and mouths agape. Eventually he walked off muttering something.

We're off to the mall to shop for a complete Phoenix Suns uniform.

Oh the Horror...

Most radio stations in our country suck. This is because independent and locally owned radio stations are being bought out left-and-right by the evil corporatocracy. Then to maximize popularity, formats are determined by what passes mustard from randomly-sampled focus groups. The end product is uniformed homogenized bullshit, otherwise known as Knickleback.

Luckily we live in Austin, Texas where residents are blessed with three phenomenal radio stations. One is a rock/alternative station with a format consisting of mostly call-in shows and specialty hours, an eclectic end-of-the-dial station who's play lists reflect the ethos of the city, and then there our public radio station which is broadcast from the university and has variety of themed shows from all genres and all corners of the globe. Of these three stations none are named 103.5 Bob FM.

Even if you've never heard Bob, you've heard Bob. We've traveled many stretches of this fine country and in just about every market now there is a Bob. Only they try to trick us by naming the same shit Daryl FM, Howard FM, Sahid FM, etc. Now we hate the Bob, and his prepackaged play lists and national DJs but we do confess that we are suckers for Hungry Like the Wolf, and since they play it with regularity, Bob is number six on our presets.

Today as we were stuck in traffic...idling...idling...buring away $4 per gallon gasoline...ahhhhh...why can't you Chinese people go back to rickshaws!?!?! Sorry back on topic -- We needed some Duran Duran, stat, so we "turned our knob to Bob" and to our amazement we were treated to Color Me Badd's, I Wanna Sex U Up. You can imagine our horror. How the fuck did these guys (see images below) become famous? We'll admit that that 1990ish time was an odd one for pop music, fashion, white people, etc. But we don't care how strange the times are, it's never fucked-up enough to like anything about Color Me Badd. Just look at that last picture...disgusting.

Your Monday Ogle

We hope everyone had a nice holiday weekend, but it's back to business now and what a better way to start the week than with a little ogling.

We've tried to be creative with out drool fest of late, so this week we give a classic American swimsuit model, and there is none more up to the task than Miss Marisa Miller. A veteran of both SI and Victoria's Secret, she is the paragon of American T and A. However, our favorite picture of her, has always been the second one here -- sporty and sexy with nice hair and makeup...the camel toe doesn't hurt either.

Happy Fourth of July

Our country is having another birthday and this year it lands on a Friday...fortuitous. How do you best celebrate the 232 birthday of a beleaguered superpower? We see it a bit like how we expect to be celebrating our birthdays about 20 years from now, when we are a beleaguered superpower.

A delusional tyrant bitch (probably our third wife) is on her way out of power and we are shopping for a new one. (With one of the prospectives being a smooth talking minority.) Health care is a mess, and has been since our liver followed the second wife out the door, and especially since we forgot to call our doctor after that 36 hour, blue pill induced hard-on. The economy sucks -- we don't have a job, our investment portfolio is shot (damn you hover boards!!!!), and the banks keep calling about those, no money-down too good to be true, home loans. Gas runs through our 1999 Jeep Cherokee (yep we still got it) too fast, and at $47/gallon we can't really afford to go anywhere. The war isn't going to well...those sectarian bastards!!! Why won't Utah just chill with the religious fanaticism. Our international friends that we met on that trip to South America back 2007, all talk shit about us and laugh when we're not around. Iron Man 11 sucked. But thank goodness for that 40 foot wall. We can't really afford to help out with our kids right now.

But it's birthday time, so lets forget about our problems. It's time to fire-up the barbecue grill, watch some baseball, drink too much (soon to be Belgian owned) Budweiser, risk life and limb with some sparklers and bottle rockets, and put some feathers in our caps and call them macaroni...

From all of us at NLNC, have a happy and safe Independence Day.

Drinking Alone - Drunk History

Alcohol related advice so good, that if you take heed, you won't need anyone else around to enjoy the experience... You can even be alone in your parents house, where you are "temporarily" living, while you "save money".

This drinking/drunk-off-your-ass video comes to us by a tip from our friends over at the Best Day Ever.

We at NLNC aim to teach our readers a little something in this week's edition of Drinking Alone. We are students of history, yes, and this video claims to be historical (we're certain it's 100% factually correct), but what we're really trying to point out is that alcohol induced vomiting is always funny, and that anyone with the surname Falconer is unbelievably badass. We love our last name, it's a kickass noun, and because we haven't been called by our first name since the fourth grade, we assume that everyone enjoys saying it too, or screaming it if you're a smooth-legged orange-tinted vixen from one of our late night escapades. But we must admit ours comes in second to Falconer...Falconer!!! Are you fucking serious?

Watch, and enjoy...

Mustache Moments

We're going to start a new column tonight, Mustache Moments, it probably won't be regular but it'll pop-up from time-to-time. So what is a mustache moment exactly? Well to truly understand it, you'll need to know what a Dirtbag is, or what it means to get dirtbagged.

A Dirtbag is one who acts outside of cultural norms, not giving a shit, worrying about no one but themselves, and generally participates in activities deemed unsavory or creepy by the general public. To get dirtbagged, is to have one of these unsavory or awesome, depending on your point of view, deeds done to you. The ultimate in dirtbaggery of course being, the wearing of a mustache. Because honestly there is no good reason for wearing a mustache in the year of our Lord 2008, other than to draw attention to yourself for all the wrong reasons.

So tonight we made our weekly Wednesday night pilgrimage to the corner store (in honor of Drinking Alone) to purchase a tasty beverage or two, and prior to entering said store, we were approached by a handful of young toughs. Now these young ruffians weren't upstanding young men like our favorite teen aged reader, a Mr. Nate T (how's that for a shoutout, punk), so we immediately reached for our wallets and let out a girly screech, but soon our fears were squelched when their leader, a Keifer Sutherland from Lost Boys look-a-like, handed us $20 and gave us the look. As hard as these little bastards looked, we could've easily denied their request and been on our marry way, but the mustache in us started to grow (kind of like in cartoons when the little devil appears on the left shoulder of the protagonist offering usually the better advice) and visions of a teen aged us, drunk off our asses, began to foment in our conscience minds.

So yes we bought some kids beer, kids who probably couldn't even drive yet, and we even pitched in two bottles of Booner on our own nickel for the sake of posterity. Yeah they looked at us like faggots for the gift of Strawberry Hill, but we know that they'll thank us tomorrow morning...tomorrow morning when they have the old, raging sugar-induced Boone's Farm headaches, but a pretty young thing next to them.

Words of Wisdom

Don't shave your pubes. Simple as that.

In yet another example of how our lives have followed different episodes of Seinfeld, we got a little adventurous with the razor over the weekend. It started out as a simple afternoon shower but somehow turned into an expression of modern art.

We set out to simply shave a bit off the cheeks (facial) and before too long we had visions of turning our undercarriage into something resembling a tropical plant. In retrospect we're not really sure what gripped us to do this, perhaps in the words of our old friend, Wolfram -- "It'll give you a half an inch." -- and we were preparing for a date...

Not being very hairy, we quickly gave up on thoughts of tropical foliage, and our ultimate dream of some kind of "Sideshow Bob" impersonation. Instead we turned our hopes on some Mickey Mouse Ears, to compliment our junk.

Upon first inspection we were pretty pleased, and found that the looooooong droopy nose complimented the ears rather well, but now three days later, we are ruing the day. Holy shit!!! We've got more razor burn than a fire at the Bic warehouse, and each step we take feels like there's sandpaper in our pants.

We give it up to you ladies that go with the, open-faced ham sandwich look. We don't know how you do it.

Wedding Rings, wear 'em if you got 'em

We fell in love today. Once again it only took about 15 minutes, but we fell, and fell hard.

We have started a new job, and the young lady we'll be working alongside for the next few months is enchanting. She is 24, brunette, great teeth, tan skin, clever, tremendous rack, sharp fashion sense, tremendous rack, damn!!!

We spent most of the day with our mouths open, nodding and saying, "Uh, huh..." Come to think of it, we can't really remember getting anything done. The day went by so fast. It was pretty much the greatest day in work history.

Of Course, at the end o the day we asked her if she would like to go grab a drink, and she responded with, "Oh, sorry...I'm married -- (I pointed to her ring finger) I just don't wear my ring."

Why the hell wouldn't you wear your ring?