Monday, September 29, 2014

Introducing Mr. And Mrs. Meyers

Hey guys. So... we're not posting this week. Not a real post, anyway. We've been way too busy. Doing what, you ask? Well, unless you live under a rock or are new here (since we've been yakking about it a ton lately), we were both working hard on this...

Center left: Brandon. Center: Reverend Bryan. Behind them: the light of the heavens shining down upon them both.

Yep, Brandon got married. And what an adventure it was.

The bride tried to escape, so we had to have her father forcefully wrestle her down the aisle. Not pictured: his taser.

Bryan said some words that made people laugh, and then passionately read a poem that made people laugh and cry. Then by using his magic powers he transformed the bride and groom into a married couple instead of just a boring single one, thereby making Heidi stuck with Brandon for the rest of her natural life.

She promptly retaliated by eating his face.

Then they went inside and ate cake and drank an ungodly amount of alcohol and the bride and groom put their dance lessons to use, in which they cut a rug so epically that the venue is keeping their damage deposit and the rug is seeking counseling.

There was laughter. There were tears. Bryan was told by many that it was the best service they've ever seen, with a few people asking for his services at other upcoming weddings. Maybe he has a future calling as a reverend... nah. His favorite compliment, from a kooky old guy: "Son, that was the best damn wedding ceremony I've ever seen. And I'm old as shit, so you know I've been to plenty."

Overall, it was a damn good time, and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon could not be happier... to have the damn thing over with, so life can get back to normal.

It took over 2 hours to unpack and assemble Brandon and Heidi to get them ready for the wedding. Elbows and genitals sold separately.

Bryan and Mrs. Bryan tired and sweaty as hell after tearing it up on the dance floor. Not properly pictured because of crappy lighting - Mrs. Bryan's awesome purple hair.

Brandon wildly attacking the paparazzi that swarmed the reception.

The great Reverend Bryan, on the way there, channeling his inner Ray Donovan with that sweet hand-me-down suit.

...Except he didn't get to sodomize a black kid with a huge pistol.

Maybe that'll happen at the next wedding he performs.

Stay tuned for a next week when we returned to your regularly scheduled awesomeness and comical idiocy.

Cheers and stay classy, friends,

Monday, September 22, 2014

I Now Pronounce You Drunk And Ashamed

Hey guys, Bryan here. This upcoming weekend, September the 27th, I'll be performing not just a wedding, but THE wedding, because I'll be playing the part of reverend as my brother-from-another-mother and fellow co-author Brandon weds his beautiful bride and takes the giant leap from boy into man. Or at the very least hairy man-child.

But there's been some concern over me being reverend, since I write comedy for a living. There's a thought that maybe instead of getting up there and taking things seriously I'll go out of my way to do something silly or ridiculous. And that Brandon, as my co-author and partner in comedic crime, will only encourage me.

So today I'd like to take a break from our usual hijinks and share for you all the speech I've crafted for Brandon's wedding... with love, and kindness, and great care.

As you can see I'm going to get really sentimental right out the gate. And after Handgelina and Handrew make up, I'm gonna lay it on thick with the love crap. But I'm gonna do it uniquely, because everyone talks about love at a wedding, and they always do it in such a fruity, boring manner. No, I'm gonna talk about the birds and the bees type of love, even if it takes a drink or six to sum up the courage to discuss it.

And then just when their black little hearts have melted into a sickly puddle of amorphous love-goo I'm going to use some killer symbolism. Because people love symbolism at weddings, and what's more symbolic than a ring?

So of course I'm going to have to recite Matthew McConaughey's speech from True Detective on time being a flat circle.

And after that, while everyone in attendance is doubled over in tears (from the awesomeness of the ceremony, I can only assume) I'm just gonna drop the mic and walk out. And the next day I'll send Brandon and his new bride my $1,000 "guest appearance" bill, because surely they knew I wasn't doing this for free, right?

So in the end, I would say to wish me luck, but I don't need it... because I'm gonna hit this one out of the damn park.

Cheers and stay classy, nerds,
The Great Reverend B

Beer: Deschutes Mirror Pond
Music: Flight Facilities

P.S. For the next week Indie Writers Monthly is holding a flash fiction contest where you submit a 200 word or less horror story for a chance to win some awesome books. As Indie horror writers, we're planning to enter, and if you like to write horror, you should consider jumping in the pool with us - like a real pool, it's fun for everyone and definitely not full of our pee.


Monday, September 15, 2014

Local Imbeciles Demand Exorbitant Wage Increase

It has recently come to our attention that, like the majority of fast-food employees who have begun to go on strike, we have been working for severely low wages here at A Beer for the Shower. Even though this blog brings in dozens of dollars a month*, we don't see any of it.

*approximately zero, give or take

So, like that pimple-faced french fry fryer slaving over your delicious heart attack sticks in the back of the McDonald's kitchen, we've petitioned to give ourselves a raise - $15 an hour. And to do that, we had to visit our boss, the CEO of A Beer for the Shower, Peggy Sue the Retarded Goat.

Peggy, as our wise and selfless CEO, reminded us that money didn't just magically appear out of nowhere. Our new salaries would have to come from someone. And since Peggy Sue had her own family to feed, it wouldn't be from her. After all, she needed to retain her million dollar salary and $2.5 million dollar quarterly bonus and Roth IRA retirement plan.

So for starters, we were going to have to eliminate our Internet access. And all forms of electricity.

And to help fund our salaries, we'd also have to start charging users to access "high quality" content on our site. AKA every single punchline, since we're just brimming with the utmost comedic quality around here... right?

(The answer, if you were wondering, is "ten tickles." That's how many tickles it takes to make an octopus laugh. Don't worry, the $15 surcharge will be delivered to you in the mail)

But alas, all of this still wouldn't be enough, because Peggy knew that readers would stop visiting the site. So we'd have to cut back even further.

From here, all cartoons would be outsourced to a third world country where English is not the first, second, or even third language. And all artwork would be pawned off to inbred goat farmers with severe learning disabilities who have absolutely no talent for art whatsoever.

Wow, look at that shitty artwork. Nice football head, Stewie Griffin. Where's Brandon's mouth? And what's with those stupid ass circle hands?

Ugh, okay, so on second thought, we couldn't put you guys through all of that. It's way too much quality sacrificed just so we could make $15 an hour. So in the end... we just said fuck it and decided to go work at McDonald's. After all, once that big minimum wage increase happens we'll finally be making the big bucks, which beats out our Plan B of shitting out some illegitimate children and going on welfare.

And let me tell you, flipping burgers is so much easier than writing and illustrating comedy.

We usually have something clever to add to the end of postings, but since we're now slinging burgers instead of blogging, I guess the only thing left to ask is... you want fries with that?

Cheers and stay motivated, friends,

Music: Jeremy Mage and The Magi
Beer: Titan IPA

Monday, September 8, 2014

Men: Packing with a Purpose

As men, we give our women plenty of shit for packing their entire lives away for a simple weekend getaway.

Naturally, there's only one answer to that question that doesn't end with a punch to the testicles. But see, while women may have a propensity for packing ungodly amounts of things for an evening at the local Holiday Inn, we men know the value of packing light. Just look at our camping trip last weekend.

We, as efficient travelers, only brought the bare essentials. And a quick check list before we left confirmed that.

Okay, okay, so we take a FEW things with us when we go camping. But we'd just rather be over-prepared than under-prepared, because you never know what might happen in the wild. And you ladies reading this, thinking "So how is that different from me packing ten suitcases full of high heels?" well, we'll tell you why it's not the same thing.

You see, we NEED these things. Because without them, well, camping sucks.

You know what camping without ice cold beer, freshly grilled burgers, warm blankets, and hot coffee in the morning is? It's a bunch of dudes sitting on rocks, staring at the ground, freezing their balls off, forced to (ugh) talk to each other. Sober.

So say what you will, ladies, but when a man packs to go camping, he's just taking what he needs. And the next time you pack for your own trip, well, you could learn a little something from us. Because we're all about efficiency.

Now if you'll excuse us, this camping trip of ours is almost up, and we need to post this blog entry via our wi-fi hotspot before our portable cappuccino maker is finished frothing and our electric pancake griddle finally heats up.

Cheers and stay classy, folks,

Beer: Lagunita's Little Sumpin' Sumpin' Ale
Music: The Pigeon Detectives

P.S. Those of you looking for our Sunflowers for Tina post, that entry follows this one.