Thursday, November 29, 2012

The Opening Band That Didn't Make Any Sense Whatsoever

        Have you ever gone to a concert and seen an opening band so bad it just made you stone cold sober on the spot? Like, the 4 beers you just drank didn't even exist? Well, a few weeks ago I did, and that band was one so truly terrifying that I'll never forget it. It was the worst band I've ever seen/heard in my life. In fact, the moment I got home my wife said, "Oh God, you're going to blog about this, aren't you?"
        And I said, "It'd be a crime not to."
        It's a band called Friends, and they opened recently for Two Door Cinema Club here in Denver. My wife and I were excited for the show. Once we got inside, though, it was a long wait, even just for the opening act, and the crowd was restless.

          So let me set the stage. The lights dim, and the audience begins a light round of applause. A woman that looks like a 12 year old girl on crack totters out onto the stage, holding a guitar that's bigger than she is. She's wearing nothing but a leather jacket and panties, which we notice because she flashes the audience any time she makes even a hint of movement.

          Next comes the drummer, a hipster in skinny jeans and a Bob Saget sweater so big and so ugly that the only thing missing is a huge cat face on the front.

       Next comes the bongo player, an abnormally scrawny guy with long hair and Harry Potter glasses, wearing a wifebeater.

       Then, like a bad joke, comes the keyboard player. He has to be almost 50 years old. He has white patches in his beard, he's overweight, and he's wearing a beret which I imagine covers his bald spot. Also, did I mention he's wearing some kind of Super Mario Bros. suspenders?

In this case, the M stands for Middle-aged
         I know what you're thinking. We're done, right? No. Next a man in full makeup and drag comes out, with a badly shaved Skrillex-style mullet, wearing 6 inch stripper heels. He's also unusually hairy. He's holding a microphone, but he doesn't sing. No, the tranny man starts 'voguing.'

           Is this the lead singer, we wonder? No, this isn't the lead singer, because the lead singer walks out next. Or I should say stumbles. She's drugged out of her mind, slurring her words, and shoving the microphone so far into her mouth she's practically giving it a blowjob. And her outfit, well, I don't know what the fuck she's wearing. It's like MC Hammer pants pulled up to her saggy tits, which makes her look like Grimace the McDonald's character. Her eyebrows are sharp and pointy and have to be at least a foot long.

You'll never look at him the same way again

       But hey, maybe the music's still good. We're willing to give it a chance. And then the music begins... and it's every bit as terrible as you might imagine. Maybe even worse. The singer wails and screeches like a cat whose tail just got stomped on. Bongo man hits his bongos. Tranny dancer guy continues to vogue.

The audience...

And Meli and I...

But we aren't being trolled. Another song starts, and another, and then... as if it wasn't weird enough, these guys decide to kick it up to 11 and make shit even weirder. The lead singer starts making out with the tranny dancer.

Then the tranny dancer starts making out with bongo man.

         And all that... the voguing, the making out, the terrible screeching, the shitty music... that all lasted for 45 minutes. 45 grueling minutes. When they finally left the stage, there was barely any applause, and I'm pretty sure those who clapped were just happy they were leaving.
         If you think I'm making this all up, I'm not. Here's their "hit" single, which features cracked-out singer's trademark screeches. Skip to 1:30 to hear them (that's the "chorus"). Or don't. Save your eardrums.

          As my pal Kat from Kat O' Nine Tales pointed out to me, she sounds like the aliens from Pitch Black. And who among us hasn't seen that movie and thought, "These screeches would sound great surrounded by shitty funk music"?

Dancing with grandpa? No, that's just the keyboardist grinding on a cracked out 12 year old.
Pictured here: scrawny bongo guy, Mr. Vogue, and... some other dude

I bet those eyebrows could saw through lumber.

Work it, gurl(s).
            After doing some research, I found that these guys are huge in the hipster world, which now makes complete sense. In fact, this comment left on that awful Youtube video sums it all up perfectly.

           Because who needs great songs when you can have strange music that doesn't make any sense, weird onstage antics, and pathetic sexual gimmicks to make everyone think you're 'edgy'? Also, nothing screams hipster quite like the phrase, "Oh, you think this music is bad? Well, you just don't understand it like I do."

            So what's the lesson of today's post, or even the point? Well, the next time you see a bad opening band, just remember that while they might lack a little musical talent, or stage presence, or even good material... at least you didn't have to sit through almost an hour of this bullshit.

           What's the worst opening band you've ever seen?

Cheers and stay classy, friends,

Music: City and Colour (who certainly does not suck)
Beer: Shiner Bock

Monday, November 26, 2012

Date a Death Row Inmate!

Today's post is inspired by an ad we saw on TV for an oddly exclusive dating site, which was hilariously (and sadly) serious. And it got us to thinking, what other kinds of niche dating sites are out there for society's fringe population? Here's what we dug up...

First up is...

Farmers Only isn't all uptight like those other dating sites, and believes that matchmaking questionnaires rooted in the fundamentals of relationship psychology are a bunch of Evolutionist hooey. No, what this site prides itself on is the important questions, the ones that really determine compatibility and will ensure long-lasting happiness. "Instead of asking what your astrological sign is, at we ask if you raise or breed alpacas, horses, cattle, chickens, dogs, goats, rabbits, sheep, grow crops, or if you're an organic farmer, student farmer, cowboy, cowgirl, or just a farmer wanna be!"

Their motto is "City Folks Just Don't Get It," which I'd have to disagree with. I think after watching this commercial - - I can safely say that I do "get it," and that's why I'm going to stay as far away from "it" as possible. But, how about you? Could wild, wild horses drag you away from this batch of down-home stud muffins?

Next up is...

This may just be my favorite website in the history of the Internet. It's full of not just prisoners, but even death row inmates who are looking for love during the 1 hour of the day they aren't getting shanked/raped/both, library Internet time. Let's meet a man I'll call Jamarcus (and yes, this is 100% a real profile).

I just love that Jamarcus included one of his poems! Could you imagine what a barrel of smiles it would be to hang out with him? An incredible opportunity, indeed!

Or how about our new friend Julio? After seeing his profile, we just had to contact him and bring him on as our newest staff writer. Look for a lot more 'fuck da POH-leece' jokes in our near future!

What I love about Julio is that he has an entire album of pictures, and yet that's the picture he wanted to upload as his profile avatar, of him looking like Hannibal Lector in a car accident. Who wouldn't want to reach out to this gentle soul?

And last but not least...

Because sometimes it's the little things that unite us in love, like the constitutional right to blow each other away. Age? Religion? A stable job? No, I don't care about any of that. I just want to make sure she's armed to the fucking teeth.

This is probably the one website on earth where you look like a douchebag for not posting a picture holding your favorite handgun.

So there you have it. If you can't find love at any of these top-notch sites, then we don't know what to tell you. Except maybe lower your expectations a little bit. We hear that is really starting to take off...

Did we miss any?

Cheers and happy hunting (literally)!


Beer: Bass
Music: Sticky Little Fingers

Monday, November 19, 2012

How to Cheat on Your Wife

         If the news has taught us anything lately, it's that you can be a four-star general and the director of the CIA and still suck at cheating on your wife. Truly, it's an art, and it's not nearly as simple as TV and movies would have us believe. So here at A Beer for the Shower we're going to help you cheat successfully. Just follow these simple, easy steps, and you can avoid the huge hassle of telling your spouse you want a divorce, which is so complicated and extremely unnecessary.

1. Don't fake sick to get out of having sex with your wife.

If you keep turning your wife down because your "tummy is hurting" (you gigantic vagina) she's going to eventually catch on that you're cheating. If you need to be sick, then you need to be legitimately sick. Inject yourself with a West African disease twice a week and she'll be none the wiser.

5 minutes later...

2. Don't use your own cell phone

Using your own cellphone is so amateur and a surefire way to get caught. Instead, use a throwaway cellphone you bought at a gas station. Leave it completely turned off 23.9 hours of the day and only use it to make outgoing calls. Store it inside your wall, locked in a safe, protected by irradiated mutant rats.

Once a day, when you absolutely have to talk to your mistress, you can sledgehammer out the wall hole, don your radiation-and-bite-proof lead suit, and open the vault to send those vital, tender, romantic text messages you've been thoughtfully composing in your head all day...

Afterwards, all you have to do is lock the phone away again, stuff the safe back inside the wall, re-frame the hole, put three coats of plaster on, sand it back to smooth, and repaint the entire thing twice. Sure, the whole process will take you four hours to complete from start to finish, but that's a small price to pay for a guaranteed private, thirty second conversation with your illicit honey, right?

3. Don't post your picture on the Internet

This seems like a given, but don't post your picture on Craiglist's "looking to bang anyone that's not my wife" section and definitely don't fill out an online profile, such as Ashley Madison, because uploading your name, your picture, and your location, along with a written confession of how you're looking to cheat on your wife is probably the dumbest thing you could ever do.*

Congratulations, dipshit, you just posted a public confession along with your picture and personal information. Why not just tape a banner outside your house that says "LOOKING TO CHEAT ON MY WIFE, BUT DON'T TELL HER, OKAY?"

*(We actually made a bogus Ashley Madison page doing research for a post last year and, sadly, yes, the morons that use the site actually do all of this.)

Instead, play it safe. Don't post any pictures of yourself. Give a fake address, name, age, and wear a fake mustache every time you meet your new mistress. That way when she inevitably bumps into you at the mall while you're walking around with your wife, she'll look absolutely insane as she confronts you and says, "No, of course I know you! This is my boyfriend, David! He's 27, he's from Michigan, and he usually has a mustache! You must have shaved it off!"

"Uh, no," you say smoothly, in your normal voice, "I'm Bryan, I'm 29, I've lived in this city all my life, and I've never had a mustache. You must be mistaken."

Girl looks insta-crazy and all credibility is thrown out the door. Your wife is none the wiser. Smooth as freaking silk, you are.

4. Don't use your work e-mail

This also seems like a given, but you DO know that they keep all of your e-mails stored in a server for years, right? That they can access these at any time? As a cheater you don't want that information to be readily available to your higher ups. Also, let's face it, the "Forward" button is a lot closer to the "Reply" button than you might think.

2 minutes later...

Now not only are you cheating on your wife, but you're doing unspeakable things with your boss just to keep him quiet.

Don't do that. Create a fake e-mail account and only access it by cellphone. Preferably the one you have buried in your wall, guarded by mutant rats.

5. Don't stay out late every night

Sure, it’s a convenient excuse to say you’re going out for late night drinks with the boys. But your wife might become suspicious if it happens seven nights a week (unless she’s secretly spending her evenings playing ‘Hide the Salami’ with her office partner Jimmy and hoping that your sudden alcoholism kills you). So, here’s what you’ve got to do to avoid raising suspicion. Never meet your mistress at night. Instead, go to a hotel during work hours only, on your lunch break. That’s right, no more lunch for you, you randy fox.

Find a hotel that accepts cash and has multiple exits. Don’t look the desk clerk in the eye and never point your face toward security cameras. Be sure to check all crevices and crannies for wiretaps or hidden cameras, and don’t worry about leaving any fingerprints because you’ll be wearing the rubber gloves that will stay on during the entire meeting. In fact, you’ll be wearing a hairnet, surgical facemask, and full-body condom too. It may be awkward at first, but your partner in sexual crime will understand, and probably find your preparedness sexy. And don’t worry, the chafing from those rubber pants will eventually go away. Only once you’re sure the perimeter is clear of electronic spyware, you may call the desk clerk and have him direct your sexytime companion up. Never, ever, tell her your real name. And never use the same hotel twice.

There you have it, guys. If you follow those 5 easy steps, you're on your way to guilt/worry free sex on the side (minus the guilt and worry), you sly devil you. And let's face it, isn't this all so much easier than talking things out, going to counseling, or getting a divorce?

Cheers and stay classy, friends,

p.s. For those of you who didn't understand the sarcastic nature of this post, we are definitely NOT telling you to actually cheat on your spouse.

Music: First Aid Kit
Beer: Red Banshee

Thursday, November 15, 2012

The Idiot's Guide to Sexual Godliness

If you're like me, ever since you first saw the epic film classic, Debbie Does Dallas, you've always dreamed of becoming a master of boudoir calisthenics. A sex god. A knockout champion of the bedroom, the veritable Mike Tyson of sexual encounters. Minus the rape and subsequent incarceration. Well, you're in luck. Because today, gentlemen, I present to you the four biggest secrets of becoming a copulatory king.

1) Be Open to Her Fantasies
That's right. Nothing will make your lady happier than your finally agreeing to don that ridiculous giant bunny suit she bought you last Christmas and seducing her. You know, the one with the poop flap and the detachable "carrot" that's been gathering mothballs in the corner of your closet. I promise you, once she sees that you're open to her kinky side, your lady will haul you down the rabbit hole faster than a consensually-aged Alice on a triple dose of Spanish Fly. 

2) Your Strengths are Your Biggest Strengths
And hopefully, that means you're hung like a donkey. But you're probably not. Don't fret, though. Because, with a little creativity, almost any skill you have can become your greatest asset in the mattress dance. For example, your often under-appreciated knitting prowess. Not only do you have the capability to knit yourself a classy, Continental stitch banana hammock, but you can also make a matching set of lingerie for her too. Nothing will turn her on like a personalized set of itchy tit mittens.

Or, if you're a little bit manlier of a man, you can always put those screwdriver and wrench-cranking skills to good use and give her what she really needs in the bedroom: another closet for all those goddamn shoes.

3) A Weakness is Really a Strength in Drag

Let's face it, things can get pretty physical in the land of love, and not all of us are equipped to do the deed bouncing off the walls like spider-monkeys. So, you don't have biceps to hold your partner over your head in what the Kama-Sutra calls "The Throbbing Superman." Or the stamina of a bull ox. Or dextrous fingers. Or hell, maybe no fingers at all? Sure, that may not win you any lingerie knitting competitions, but that doesn't mean you can't still rock her socks off. Get creative with what you've got. Even if what you've got is a micro-penis.

4) A Woman is Like a Fine Piece of Gouda
I'm sorry. I can't explain this one to you. It's against the law set forth by the Hindu love god Kamadeva, who devised this all-knowing, all-encompassing bit of wisdom. You have to figure it out for yourself (including the fact of how the hell an Indian god knew about Dutch cheese). But, once you do, let me tell you, you will have reached the summit of Mt. Sexytime.

There you have it, men. If all of the above measures don't have your bedroom companion building you a shrine by morning (or at least a decent sandwich), then you might want to just go with the "get rich and powerful" option. Because if you're going to terminally suck at fornication, at least you'll know ahead of time your lady doesn't give a damn.



Beer: Snow Day (New Belgium)
Music: Babyshambles

PS. If you get a chance, stop by the Indie Chicks and check out the quick article we wrote about the health hazards of dating. Hint: it doesn't involve herpes!

The Health Hazards of Dating

Monday, November 12, 2012

And the Winner Is...

Alright, folks. YOU voted. The election results are in, and the new President of A Beer for the Shower is...

Peggy Sue the Retarded Goat, who won by an unimaginable landslide. I mean, she just crushed the two of us. But hey, fuck it, that's democracy, right? You wanted an inbred goat with an orthopedic shoe to run this entire website, and well, that's exactly what you're going to get.

So let's see what Peggy Sue's plans are for the future of our site. We've brought her interpreter, Mr. Norbert  Q. Poindexter, to translate for those who don't speak goat.

Next item of business. Peggy Sue?

What else, Peggy Sue?

Okay, so the goat can "krump" dance any time she feels like it. I guess as president that's fair. Last item of business, Peggy Sue?

This one we can translate.

She says we now have a new web store, where you can find all of our books and maybe even some other fun goodies if you keep checking back. Just click the new banner (which you've probably already noticed) at the top of our site, which'll take you to our new web store.

So maybe she won't be a bad president after all. Who knew an inbred goat could be so Internet savvy? I guess it's probably due to her rich history, which all started back in--


Cheers and stay classy, friends,
Bryan and Brandon

Music: Jukebox the Ghost
Beer: Asahi Dry

PS The krumping goat commands you to go to our web store.