Poosy, I’m home!

It’s Wednesday. My dad and stepmother are coming to town today to hang out with the baby. Pretty good stuff, I suppose. The day they leave (Saturday), my mom and stepdad show up, so this baby is really stepping raft to raft, paternal grandparent wise, this week, I guess. Cool.
Currently, the baby is crying in his room. This leads me to all sorts of questions. Is he stuck between the slats of his crib? Hungry? Being pecked at by some sort of bird? The answers are probably no, no and no. He’s just a grumpy little shit sometimes. I have my writing class tonight, and I’ve already finished my skit, which is a good thing, since when my dad gets to town there will be no time for anything. Jesus, baby. Shut up for a second, huh? Man. Dumb babies…they’re such fucking babies.
There’s absolutely nothing going on today. I think it’s time for a positive list. Things I love? Things I can’t live without? Things I hate but can’t live without? Nah…I don’t feel like being negative today. That’s for tomorrow when I have to work. Today, it’s just me and a baby, which, actually, is a pretty good time. I always thought that when people would say shit like “having a baby is so great. It’s so much fun,” that they were bullshitting. As in, I always figured that they were REALLY saying “man, this sucks, I have to take care of this fucking thing all day and I can’t go out after six thirty…You should do this too so I don’t feel like I’m missing out on as many fun and debaucherous good times.” That’s always been my take…and I know I’m not alone in this interpretation. It’s one of those things though. They weren’t bullshitting. It really is fun. I KNOW!!! Yeah, I’m one of them now. Now it’s me who sits home watching Mario Lopez on TV and asking questions about what happened at the bar (she fucked THAT GUY?) and at the same time hyping up how fun it is to be a dad. I get it. You don’t believe me either. I wouldn’t believe me either. I mean, fuck. This time last year I was gearing up to ride a bus around the country and play music while people gave me money and free beer. This year I’m wiping butts and making bottles and sneaking out for a beer at the bar about once every five weeks, and I know more about baby bottles and diapers and swings and all that shit than you could possibly imagine. I’ve been to Babies R Us, man. I’ve BEEN there. Talk about a harrowing experience.
Here’s what they don’t tell you about Babies R Us. The women that work there, they’re pregnant too. So here’s the scene: All these catty pregnant coworkers constantly undermining each other’s recommendations, giving tons and tons of unsolicited advice about everything from what you need (everything) to what the husband is doing wrong (again, everything) to which stroller is the biggest death trap and on and on. Now, they’re dealing with a bunch of nervous, irritable pregnant women who are in the frantic throes of nesting, totally irrational with fear/anxiety/excitement/the joy of shopping/the bewildering nature of shopping for all sorts of new and unfamiliar things, and they’re dragging their husbands along behind them. The husbands can only shut up and try to hang on. Don’t offer advice. Don’t suggest an alternative item that you actually like. It will be immediately filed as completely unacceptable and dumb. Husbands at Babies R Us share a lot of knowing sympathetic glances in passing.
Now, add to this mix the DUDES that WORK there. These poor fucks are trapped in gestation like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. I’d rather get hung from the dungeon walls at the Hanoi Hilton a la John Mccain than work at Babies R Us. These guys are so browbeaten that they make the husbands seem downright decisive and dynamic.
Anyway, it sucks…but you know what? That’s not being a dad, really. That’s being a husband. I mean, if I had this kid on my own, he’d literally sleep in a drawer with pillows in it. No two ways about it. There’s a reason that god decided to put the babies in women and not men. Also, probably squeezing a baby through your dickhole would present some health concerns…but I think it’s mostly so we don’t have a whole species that grew up sleeping in pizza boxes under TV guides. Maybe.
Okay, so some shit I like. Here we go.

Bill Bryson- This dude is, hands down, my favorite active American non fiction writer. He takes complex ideas and synthesizes them to a ‘we’re just bullshitting and drinking beers’ kind of level. You’ll be laughing out loud before you realize you’ve learned a ton of shit. At the risk of sounding like a total jagoff, (but in the spirit of full disclosure), I went to Northwestern and graduated on the dean’s list and I can honestly say that reading Bill Bryson’s books made me vastly more erudite and sophisticated sounding at parties than anything I learned there. So there you go…Sound like a nancy college boy at social gatherings in 3 weeks, just read these nine or so books. Talk with authority about everything from Australian flora to the history of Pepsi. Nice one. Start with Mother Tongue, a Brief History of Nearly Everything or Made in America, but read them all…they’re all good. (Oh, and Made in America has nothing to do with that movie starring Whoppi Goldberg and Ted Danson, in case you were wondering)

Miller High Life- I don’t know what it is, but I’m in love with this beer. I never used to like it, but suddenly, I can’t get enough. It’s so drinkable. I find myself literally going “oh god, it’s so good” when I take the first sip. I know. It’s crap. Whatever. You’re ugly.

Public Farts (the ‘not mine’ category) Nothing makes me laugh like some old lady blowing a fart right there in the Walgreens.

Public Farts (mine) You walk by a group of dumb looking chicks drinking Effen black cherry and sodas, and you fart when you’re right next to them, so they’re all standing in it just wondering which one of them broke the rule. My friend calls this ‘cropdusting.’

Alexandre Orion- He’s the best. My favorite living artist, for sure. His shit is on another level, to put it mildly. Check out Alexandreorion.com and look at the renegade shit, not the gallery stuff. No joke here. Just a recommendation.

Austrailians- Such polite and funny people who get shitfaced enough to fuck the knothole of the crabapple tree in your grandma’s front yard every day. I mean, in my experience.

Bikes- This one’s tricky. I love bikes, but I hate bike snobs as much as I hate, oh, I don’t know, racists. It’s a bike, dickweed. You’re not doing anything that cool just because your bike doesn’t have brakes. You know who cares? No one but the other worthless dildos you roll around with. What a thing to get stuck up about…You know who rides bikes? Everyone. You’re not special. Also, I hate that guy who has the sticker on his bike that says something like “I’m saving the earth by not driving a car. Aren’t I sweet?” Nope, you’re a smug asshole that makes me want to buy a Humvee out of spite and convert the engine so it runs on baby seals. But, I’m getting negative again. I love bikes. Riding a bike is the best way to travel, for sure. As long as you live somewhere with bike lanes and no hills. Which I do. So there. So. Many. Periods.

Whatever, I could go on, but I’m hungry. I’m getting lunch. And maybe a High Life.

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16 Responses to Poosy, I’m home!

  1. Andrew says:

    You see this cute little girl right here? This is America. Do you want to rape her? Do you want to rape and murder america?

    shit that movie is good.

  2. Joe Costa says:

    Kal Penn**

    Sorry I had to. High Life is good for a cheap beer, but PBR>High Life any day of the week.

    Also, I think a list about facial hair stylings and their acceptability would be pretty excellent.

  3. Candice says:

    “This time last year I was gearing up to ride a bus around the country and play music while people gave me money and free beer.”

    This reminds me- you owe me a dollar. No joke. I’ll pick it up when I’m at the Falcon show. Don’t try to dodge me.

  4. Keri says:


    i ride a bike. i rode a bike in san francisco. 8 miles each way to work. which, i guess in chicago isn’t much. i rode from uptown to logan square yesterday. in san francisco, 8 miles means 8 miles of the steepest and least sympathetic hills you have ever seen. ironically, i don’t ride my bike as much in chicago as i did in san francisco.

    but yes. biking and miller high life “the champagne of beers.” together.

  5. Mark says:

    So anyways, not to take away from an entertaining entry, but I was wondering if you could hit me up with some advice.

    Alright, so I’m a junior in high school, and there’s this freshman who sits with us at lunch named Lennon. Well anyways, Lennon’s kind of annoying sometimes (as in all the time), and I’d rather him just fuck off. Well, normally I’d tell him to do this, but he’s a little odd. For instance, he has a little notebook containing a list of 50 or so guns that he’d like to purchase (this list is very detailed, mind you). Well, he’s starting to piss us off and freak us. I mean really, I would not be surprised to see this kid be involved in a school shooting if he actually manages to acquire some guns. We’ve tried ignoring him, but he seems to be catching on to that plan. So how would you recommend getting rid of him without managing to find ourselves on his shit list?

    Incidentally, his head is fucking massive. To get a picture of how large his cranium is, he has to wear button-up shirts because his head won’t fit through the neck hole of t-shirts.

    So yeah, keep making the good music and writing the blog. Wipe your baby’s ass for me, too.

  6. Troy says:

    Cropdusting? We titled it simply as a “driveby”.

  7. artielovescupcakes says:

    Mr. Kelly I have one question for you and I think I might need this one answered I know sometimes people ask you things and they aren’t answered and I understand I have seen alot of questions run through here. Well my question is the song old timer 2×4 I assumed it was about your father(how could it not) its a pretty harsh song which I understand why, now in this blog you say your father is coming to visit you now I’m assuming your on good terms with him now so how does he feel about you writing that song?? thats my question. That song lyrically has always been one of my favorites so hopefully you could answer it for me thanks mang!!!!

  8. Suzanne says:

    That alexandre orion stuff is awesome.. I respect any artist who has the balls to paint hundreds of skulls because I know how fucking time consuming that is, how insane it is to do that and have someone just spray it all away, too..

    The photos with the figures are pretty awesome too, funny.

  9. Ryan says:

    Farting in public is the way to go. Especially big, crowded areas.

  10. fallingtree99 says:

    Hey Brendan, perhaps some fodder for a future entry: As a member of the ubiquitous “punk scene,” you’re probably used to several of your colleagues from Fat Mike to your labelmates Propagandhi to Matt Skiba to Tim from Rise Against vocally espousing vegan/vegetarian ethics and animal rights. As far as I can tell, you are not a vegan or vegetarian. As a vegetarian myself, I’d be very interested in hearing your thoughts on the matter.

  11. lostandclowned says:

    i second this, faillingtree99.

  12. Tony says:

    Next time you’re in Australia, you should party with me.

  13. John Barrett says:


    I bet you’ve seen this, but it bears repeated viewings.

  14. Tyler says:

    Not that this is any substantial incentive, but if you ever find yourself (or any of your musical ventures) in the Pittsburgh area, you will find yourself enjoying a large quantity of free high life courtesy of myself.

  15. sheila says:

    alexandre orion = pretty fucking sweet

    but seriously, why not the gallery stuff? maybe (and i forcefully stress the “maybe”) it isn’t quite as relevant as the Intervention Ossario, but it’s relevant nonetheless…ok i better nip this comment in the bud before i begin to sound like one of those obnoxious art snobs.

  16. planespotting says:

    Have you ever read The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid?

    Great BBryson book about growing up in the best state ever – Iowa!

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