Monday, November 23, 2015

Happy Stuff Your Piehole Day

This week is Thanksgiving, in which we all gather together and eat dry, overcooked turkey until we hate ourselves, while holding awkward conversation with that racist uncle who never stops sending you cheesy e-mail forwards about Obama secretly being a Muslim transsexual space alien.

It's also a time when we give thanks, and while many will be thankful for things like friends and family and a roof over their heads (lame), we want to each talk about some things we're REALLY thankful for.

Bryan: I'm thankful I can spend at least one more year staving off the terminal, blood-sucking virus that consumes your life for at least two decades and costs hundreds of thousands of dollars to get rid of. No, I'm not talking about Ebola, I'm talking about children. While everyone else is probably thankful for their children, I'm just thankful I don't have them.

Brandon: I'm thankful for the existence of long grass at the park. I know it sounds weird but hear me out. Nine times out of ten, my wife and I have little baggies to collect the turds our dogs drop when we take them on morning walks, buuut, a quarter of the time, after we use and throw them away, the dogs poop AGAIN. And then we're THOSE assholes. You know, the ones planting fecal landmines in the place where you play your adult kickball league games. So, yeah, long grass. It's mother nature's way of helping me hide the shame of my dog's spontaneously never-ending bowels.

Bryan: I'm thankful for boobs, because why would that possibly ever need an explanation?

Brandon: I'm thankful for all of my neighbors' trees. Not having any trees of my own, I'm fortunate that my neighbors on all sides have plenty of them so that I don't have to miss out on raking up mountains of leaves every year. Because really, how the hell are you supposed to fully appreciate autumn without lots of allergy-inflaming yard work? It builds up your arms and it builds up your mucus.

Bryan: I'm thankful for having an exceptionally unrefined palate, one that allows me to enjoy the hell out of a $5 bottle of wine or a $15 bottle of whiskey. Because if I did have a so-called refined palate, imagine how much money I'd have to spend just to drink alcohol that I liked.

Brandon: I'm thankful for my barber. I know that sounds overly obvious, but as a fairly hirsute individual, it's actually pretty important. Without my barber, I would probably look like a wily caveman. Or bigfoot. Or Dave Grohl. And nobody wants to see that.

Bryan: And finally, I'm thankful for not having that weird second toe that extends way past your first toe and looks like a mutated finger. It kinda creeps me out, and I'm not sorry I said it.

So really, cut the cheesy crap. What are YOU thankful for?

Cheers and stay thankful, friends,

Music: Port St. Willow
Beer: Ballast Point Longfin Lager

Monday, November 16, 2015

The Idiot's Guide to Winter Driving

Last week it snowed in Denver, signaling Old Man Winter's impending regime change. It also allowed drivers to shake off all that summer rust from driving on dry roads so as to return to their roots of playing bumper cars on ice.

Here at ABftS we care about your safety (and your money - that's good too), so today we want to explore some tips to help you be the best snow driver you can possibly be, so that you may spend more time with your loved ones and less time upside down in a ditch being consumed by the flames of your exploded engine.

1) Got an SUV? Just drive like you always do.

It's a proven, statistical fact that unlike regular cars, SUVs are impenetrable to snow and ice. Because of this, while everyone else is going at a sluggish crawl, you can drive at (or greatly above) the speed limit during even the worst snow storm. Sure, yesterday that SUV was used to drop 2 kids off at soccer practice, but today it's a goddamn snow tank, and you need to utilize that.

Don't let that 2 foot pile of snow on top of a 3 inch thick sheet of black ice stop you from reaching 75 mph on a side street. You're doing us all a favor by reaching your destination much, much faster than everyone else, you great Dale Earnhardt Jr. of the snow and ice.

2. Reuse your old, worn out tires.

In an effort to be socially conscious, you should reuse your old, bald tires as often as you can without suffering a brain-rattling blowout. Contrary to those "experts" that say things like "rear wheel drive doesn't matter so long as you have good tires" or "ensure you have at least 5/32 inch of tread on your tires", the truth of the matter is that tires don't mean shit. If you have all-wheel drive, then you can practically drive up a mountain. Things like "tread" and "traction" are just buzzwords the tire companies use to rob you of money.

So please, skate your way around town. If Paul Walker taught us anything, it's that drifting is super cool and never results in bodily harm or agonizing death. Yeehah, bitches! It's an adventure! Who knows where we'll go next? Not me, because I'm cranking the wheel and nothing is happening!

3) Don't waste time wiping your car off.

A giant pile of snow has just been shat upon your city, and your car is parked outside. Now it's covered in a foot of snow and looks like a mutant Pomeranian with wheels. On top of that, you have to get somewhere in a hurry. Well, most people don't realize this, but wiping the snow off of your car is a complete waste of time. Just hop in, flick the windshield wiper once or twice, and blast off to your destination.

Remember, you don't need the visibility out of your rear windshield in order to drive. Let the people behind you worry about all of that. And speaking of, the people behind you are in for an absolute treat when you finally start shedding your winter layer all over their car. It's like a small, personal Christmas shower from one driver to another! Or a snow-launching catapult, depending on the size of chunks and velocity.

4. Don't leave early. Ever.

A common rookie mistake is waking up earlier so that you can have plenty of time to reach your destination. That's a load of crap. All you need to do is simply hammer the gas pedal and weave through traffic in 1 foot of still-falling snow to get there faster. Remember: the other cars are going slow not because it's safe, but because they're blocking you personally and are jealous of your top level driving skills. Teach them who's boss by changing lanes frequently and cutting off those who can't match you. After all, six inches of road snow is no match for a car that's like four to five feet tall. With this, you're guaranteed to reach your destination much, much faster. Or an emergency room. Whatever.

5) Emergency roadside kits are just dead weight.

Remember the old Boy Scout motto, be prepared? Well, welcome to 2015, where that's bullshit. Chances are good your vehicle was made within the last ten years and is therefore a modern marvel of electrical and mechanical engineering. And therefore it will never fail you, and you shouldn't waste a second of your time 1) learning the basics of how your magical four-wheeled wonder-sled actually works, or 2) reading that three-inch thick brick they call an owner's manual that tells you how to diagnose most "common problems". Because of this, it's a huge waste of time to have an emergency roadside kit with tools and supplies. I mean, come on, do you look like a damn mechanic? Ain't nobody got time for that.

So in the off chance you should ever wind up with a flat tire in the middle of the Rocky Mountains during an apocalyptic blizzard, or with the square metal thing inside the front that makes the wheels turn (whatever that is) smoking, just remember that you can always call a tow truck with your infallible cellphone, which will always have signal and will never leave you stranded.

So there you have it, if you just follow these quick, easy tips... then you'll be like all of the other asshole drivers around here. And you're probably only one grocery store trip away from killing everyone you've ever loved with your gross negligence.

This winter neither of us are leaving our damn houses. You all have fun playing bumper cars out there.

Cheers and stay classy, friends,

Music: The Ruby Suns
Beer: Simpler Times Lager

Monday, November 9, 2015

But How Do I Adult?

Hey all. Bryan here, and today, November 9th, is officially my 32nd birthday. So I'd like to take this opportunity to make an announcement.

I suck at adulting. I am no good at being an adult.

I mean, my body is getting older, but I don't feel like an adult. I feel the same as I always have since I was practically a kid. And I guess it doesn't help that while the gray hairs are slowly coming in, I have a bit of a baby face and a thin build, so I still look like a kid in many ways.

But I'm not complaining. Still getting carded for rated R movies is awesome. What's weird is this feeling that I should be a responsible adult by now. That, at some point - be it 18 when I could be charged as an adult or 21 when I could legally drink alcohol or even 25 when my insurance went down because that's the magic number that suddenly makes me a good driver - a light switch should have been flipped in my brain that said, "HEY, YOU'RE AN ADULT NOW."

...But that just never happened.

But I don't feel like an adult. At all. To me, an adult is mature. Responsible. They know all of the answers. And yet, 32 years later, I don't know squat. Like, I've been doing them for countless years now, but I still don't understand how the hell taxes work.

My strategy for filing taxes online is to fill out the forms, and assume that if I was committing tax fraud that Turbo Tax would tell me so and stop me. And so far I've been doing okay. I have not yet been jailed for tax fraud, despite having no actual idea what the hell I'm doing with very important legal documents.

This is my yearly strategy. I can't help but feel that a real adult would NOT do that.

I also suck at cleaning the house. I always assumed that when you got older, you LIKED to clean. That you wanted to keep your house in nice order, and to vacuum all the time, and to dust in a manner that was not just wiping off a thick layer of dirt with your shirt sleeve. So you did it, both regularly and willingly.

And yet, the magic thing that makes adults want to clean the house never came in for me.

Is that how an adult thinks? Is that how an adult chooses to solve their problems? I feel like it shouldn't be, and yet here I am, dusting more crumbs off of my lap as I type this and letting them sprinkle the floor, where I assume a dog (God's vacuum) will just come by and "clean it up" for me. Because I, as an adult, would rather do something like play video games or watch cartoons than be bothered to clean up my own mess.

These can NOT be the words of a functioning adult.

I can't even eat right. When I was young, my mom told me, "Sure, you want to eat nothing but cookies right now, but when you get older you'll want to eat normal, healthy foods with your family and you won't really care about stuffing yourself with sweets."

And you know what? That's a damn dirty lie. Because I could sit down and eat an entire cake RIGHT NOW if I wanted to. I probably can't even count the amount of times I've polished off an entire box of cookies in one sitting, just because I could. And on countless occasions I've done things like eaten half a cold pizza for breakfast because I was too lazy to make something and it sounded like a viable substitute.

I suck at adulting.

And later today I can promise you I'm going to stuff myself with birthday cake until my feet go numb. Why, as the years pass, is this still an acceptable birthday practice for me? Why do I have no desire to just say, "Oh, thank you but no thank you, I'll just have a nice kale salad and a light beer and we can celebrate my birthday in spirit."

Because I suck at adulting.

So really, I'm getting older, but I don't feel one bit closer to becoming what they call "an adult." I don't know all of the answers. I hate cleaning. I love shoving my pie hole full of sugary snacks. I love watching cartoons and playing video games. And honestly, at this point, I'd be horrified if I woke up one morning and didn't laugh when someone pointed to a USB thumb drive and asked if they could "use my dongle." Or if I couldn't take down a whole pizza, which just seems like the appropriate thing to do on a Thursday morning.

In other words, if growing up means becoming boring, I'm okay with being a 32 year old man-child. Anyone else suck at adulting?

Cheers and stay classy, friends,
Bryan (and Brandon)

Music: They Might Be Giants
Beer: New Belgium + Ben and Jerry's Salted Caramel Brownie Ale (case in point)