Milk & Soda

New

2010-12-20T17:07:00.001-05:00

I've started a few new projects, my favorite thus far is a movie. You can find some shit on it at milkandsodamovie.blogspot.com

Retirement

2010-07-20T23:22:00.002-04:00

I think that after a good run I shall be retiring this blog. I may add to it occasionally, but I think it is high time to refine it, and organize it. This period of my life is over, and it is time I moved on to greener pastures. And I, of course, hope all you join me.

With Much Love,
Michael

2010-06-08T18:11:00.001-04:00

Testing, uno dos tres.

A New Musical Era Dawns

2010-06-03T19:16:00.004-04:00

You don't know him yet, but our coming together ought to be equated with Lord Sauron being reunited with his ring. Me and Mitul. Summer 2010. I wants the chicken and I wants it SOFT! We are starting a band, yeah its pretty sweet, I don't know, be jealous. These are our potential album covers:

Art doesn't sleep. Mitul just completed our album cover:

Nope

2010-05-11T01:23:00.002-04:00

I can't deal with this. This is a caption of what I wrote on the wall of a Facebook page saying some shit about FB beginning to charge in July.

2 Fantastic FB Statuses Re: Me

2010-05-04T00:05:00.003-04:00

The Dating Game

2010-05-03T22:05:00.003-04:00

So, to any of you who read this blog on the reg, you will remember I have many posts re: ridiculous shit I encounter scouring the likes of gay dating/hook-up sites, craigslist, and the books of face. During a much needed re-organization of my computer, I realized I have an obscene amounts of unpublished material from these sites. Thus, the creation of the Milk & Soda Dating Game, which can be found at themilkandsodadatinggame.blogspot.com. Please feel free to enjoy, show to your niggaz, and submit any fuckery you yourself might come across. Submissions can be sent to milkandsoda@gmail.com. Please attach pictures and include any other pertinent informations, i.e., website where it was found, etc. If it is a craigslist ad please do not just send the URL as they expire after 30 days or some shit. Just do a screen capture or copy and paste and attach any pictures.

Glory Be On High.

Open Letter

2010-04-29T15:24:00.003-04:00

Dear Freak of Nature,

Let me take a moment to introduce myself. My name is Michael, and I am here to study you, like the animal you clearly wish to be. I want to know what happened to you in your childhood that made you this way. I want to know which one of your parents' friends touched you in your bathing suit area. Did they touch you at the zoo? Help me help you. Together, we can get through this, sew your fucking tongue back together, and just fix you in general.

Love,
Michael

Rude

2010-04-15T15:03:00.001-04:00

Whoever found this VINTAGE footage of me and posted it publicly is a deeeek.

via ma nigga Jake

Orgasm

2010-04-11T13:54:00.001-04:00

Does Not Relate

2010-04-06T04:24:00.002-04:00

On a completely, and for most of you, pointless, unrelated note, I have started the mammoth process of writing/directing/doing-whatever-it-is-thats-involved-in-film-making-which-is-something-I-have-no-training-whatsoever-in. It is based off a novel I started writing several years ago when I was still in fucking high school. As such, I will be starting another blog to post random shit about the aforementioned movie. Most of it will be stuff I find inspirational for the film, and largely not my own original work. It will also contain plot and character profiles. I am basically doing it to organize my shit an access it from wherever my disproportionately large ass is. Anyway, its milkandsodamovie.blogspot.com. Check it. Oh, but be mindful that there will be lots of plot, so if you're one of those 'I don't want to know what happens!' kind of people, I would advise you not to go.

From the Desk of the Editor

2010-04-06T04:03:00.003-04:00

So it has come to my attention that I have to unfortunately, probably, have to remove my esteemed name and pictures from this here humble blog, of which I am the author. As life will sometimes do, it has thrown me a curve ball and I never saw it coming. Due to this most unfortunate of events, I have no choice but to suck it up and get a big boy job out there in the concrete jungle. Consequently, I have to, at least temporarily, close my life from the prying eyes of over-zealous companies who would mayyyybe (and thats a HUGE maybe, a big fat sweaty may-haps) be less likely to consider me as a candidate for their employ.

Je sais, peeps be sick these days.

Anyway, so over the next couple of when-I-get-a-hot-minute weeks, I will be deleting my real name, and removing pictures of me. If any of you (all 3 of you) see a post that I have over-looked, holler at a bitch.

But as always, my motto will remain, ¡NEGOCIOS EN EL FRENTE, FIESTA DETRAS! So don't fret, you little drunkards. I will silently be with you, as your gracious leader. Brightening your days, and holding your hair while you vomit.

Open Forum Discussion

2010-04-06T01:51:00.004-04:00

Though I am not matriculated at this institution of higher learning (though I had previously planned on it, after seeing this, I am having second thoughts...), I think light must be shed on whatevertheFUCK this shitstorm of fuckery is. This was made by students who attend Temple University, here in Philadelphia. A good friend, dedicated reader, and fellow worshiper of all the Major and Minor Alcohol deities, sent this to me not moments ago. Please take a look for yourselves...

And report back your findings. If you are friends with one of these people, implore them to see reason. Implore them to just....stop. If they are unable to be helped, give them packets on euthanasia. My treat. Lil Wayne and Jay-Z haven't been able to sleep since this was made. And also, to the President of Temple University - Madame, what in the lemonade-soaked FAAACK are you doing??!?!! Huh, man?? Wtf?? No, really. I need to know. I think we ALL need to know.

Seacrest OUT.

Moving On Up

2010-04-06T01:38:00.003-04:00

First things first, I apologize for the lull in posts as of late. I've been moving/stressed/pooping a lot. Anyway, moving right along.

I just googled 'milk and soda blog' and would like to announce that we are now the 7th result to pop up. Fucking righttt. I will accept pats on the back for all my hard work, drinking, and exceptional wit.

Here is a screen caption of our little blog:

And of course we couldn't do it without all of you loyal readers. Many of you have even participated in several of the blog entries, both willingly and unwillingly. I love you all. And to you I dedicate this song:

PUPPIES

2010-03-16T15:53:00.000-04:00

AHHHHHHHHH THIS IS THE CUTEST FUCKING THING EVER!!!!!!!

http://www.idodogtricks.com/index_flash.html

Spring Is Coming...

2010-03-02T13:54:00.002-05:00

...this should hold you over till then. We all know one lady like this. I personally used to fuck one. So.

Well enjoy.

Something To Warm The Heart-Piece

2010-02-28T22:36:00.003-05:00

Keith Olbermann's response to Prop 8 in California:

And She's Back...

2010-02-28T22:10:00.004-05:00

My heart lept for joy when I saw this beautiful picture of Whitney Houston arriving in Australia. It would appear that all my prayers have been answered and Whitney has hung up her clean weave and donned her cracky-homeless-lady weave once more.

Image via dlisted.com

If any of you (and don't admit this to me, because I will pimp slap you) forget what our Lady of the Crack was like during her first reign, take my hand as we walk down memory lane...

(Part 2 can be found on youtube)

Image via iNPLACENEWS

A New Take On A Classic

2010-02-28T22:06:00.004-05:00

For those of you (hopefully few) Shakespeareophiles out there, a 21st century take on one of his most famous pieces of work...

Stomp-Stomp-Clap

2010-02-28T20:02:00.002-05:00

This video demonstrates why South Park has been continuously rocking my world since 1997, at the completely appropriate age of 12.

I've Got Sunshine

2010-02-24T15:37:00.001-05:00

Justification

2010-02-24T15:21:00.001-05:00

Just watch (if you have ever served, or tended a bar, this will probably piss you off):

Canadians

2010-02-24T14:22:00.004-05:00

As we all know, ghetto, gay, black men are the absolute worse. Even worse than some small dicked over-achievers I know...(I'm not naming any names, but I will say: General Tso's Chicken and curry). Therefore I will start referring to them as Canadians. I think it only makes sense. I mean think of all the similarities: a false sense of pride, an inability to properly pronounce words in the English language, an inability to properly dress themselves, boisterous, they steal, they do not know how to tip, socially inappropriate, speaking loudly in movie theaters, and a taste for only unhealthy foods. Consequently Canadians are incredibly funny to watch. Watch the accompanying video, the clip below is the description as posted on youtube.

(A nice, American thank you to Jake)

Enjoy your day. And remember, when you see a Canadian, smile but clutch your personal belongings for dear life. And should you, after prolonged exposure, start to feel incredibly lazy, develop a desire to quit your job, get pregnant/get someone pregnant, consult a physician.

Butt Sex 101

2010-02-24T14:20:00.004-05:00

All you need to know about how gays smash is described in the video below, as instructed by Rep. Nancy Elliot (R-NH). Note the 'R,' in R-NH. And this is why Republicans are gay. ¡¡MIRA!!

WHERE'S MY FLU SHOT!!!!????

2010-02-14T00:44:00.002-05:00

If you see me walking down the streets of La Iladelph like this, you'll know why (and the answer is not because I received a flu shot ((even though I did, and we all should)) but because this is hysterical):

If You're Dark-Sided...

2010-02-13T13:57:00.003-05:00

Then you've come to the right place. Anyway, so I need to re-design this bad boy. The only problem is that I have no idea how one does that. If any of my readers (me, my dog, and my best friends who I make read this while I sit at my computer hitting the reload button so I appear to have more hits) can offer any assistance in the matter, there is probably something in it for you. And by that I mean sexual favors. A lil tug job here, a lil bj there, a little ball scratch somewhere else. Yeah thats right...

Getting Back To My Roots

2010-02-13T11:42:00.006-05:00

El Judio: "No, please make it stop. He is looking at me with cheap gay fetal alcohol syndrome porn eyes. I can't with him right now."

Mayoral Spawn: "We have been sleeping together since August. Either you need to commit or I need to move on."
El Jud: "Let us speak plainly in an open discussion forum arena: I am never going to commit to someone who thinks that Beyonce is a worthwhile human, nor to someone who has romantic notions about the meaning of life."
Mayoral Spawn: "What do you mean romantic notions about the meaning of life?"
El Jud: "You think that people in 3rd World Countries like Canada and the Mexicos have rights. It is cute as shit, but I can't raise children with someone with ridiculous, and dangerous liberal ideas like that."
Mayoral Spawn: "What the fuck? You are a fucking asshole. I thought you liked me."
El Jud: "Woah, simmer down there Jackie Chan. I did like you, but here is the source of my confusion: I told you at your face piece that I like some other dude but am incapable of making the first move because I am emotionally crippled, and that was why I was sleeping with you."
Mayoral Spawn: "I thought I was the other person...."
El Jud: "WE WERE ALREADY HAVING SEX HOW COULD YOU HAVE BEEN THE GUY I WAS TALKING ABOUT?!?!?!?!"
Mayoral Spawn: "Well I just thought it was either me or that dude that really thought you proposed to him and now is your facebook fiancé."
El Jud: "Shut it down. Shut. It. Down."

"Yes, he is SO OKAY with it that he feels the need to prove it to your best friend. That makes TOTAL sense. You are a broken man, the stallion no one thought could be broken is broken."

Pretty Lady: "I am pretty sure you brought an entire bottle of Campari to the bar, and in the middle of everyone took it out of your pocket and were about to take a swig of it."
El Jud: "Uh, no, that didn't happen. And hypothetically, had that happened, it was so you would drink more to catch up."

"You need to stop getting hit by cars man. I feel like you might get hurt one of these times."

Person:"I've always wanted to have sex with you. Since I met you. There was just something about you that I --"
El Jud: "And you ruined it. See yourself out."

There's Nothing I Can Say - Total Eclipse of the Heaaaaaart

2010-02-10T17:39:00.004-05:00

Disregard the me being engaged thing. Let us all be quite frank, we knew that shit wouldn't last. A mutual discussion was reached between the two parties involved to ensure my freedom. I think we all know what that means...

...a joyous Spring/Summer 2010 approaches.

No harm. No foul. Oh, and I am in the process of quitting smoking. From what I have been told, it makes you drink more...so seriously, please, a beseech you all to watch out for my safety. Thanks for playing.

God Warrior

2010-02-10T17:30:00.001-05:00

This might already be on here somewhere else, but its great and needs to be shown again.

Come Sail Away, Come Sail Away....

2010-02-10T17:28:00.000-05:00

Butt Sex

2010-02-10T13:50:00.002-05:00

For all of my heterosexual readers out there that wonder what its like taking a delivery through the back door, sample this:

Sherri Shepherd Working Her Butt Out On The View
by TheDlisted

Video courtesy of dlisted.com/Michael K.

My Google History

2010-02-09T11:50:00.001-05:00

- how to survive quicksand - what is quicksand wiki - buffalo sauce devil - scalp pain - stephen hawking zero g - planet x - jane goodall gallery mall philadelphia - hamstring injury - hot mexicans - tacos cure lung cancer - why do black people name their kids after cars - lord of the rings - jews in london - crown fried chicken stationary - crown fried chicken locations philadelphia pa - chipoltle locations philadelphia pa - diarrhea - food poisoning via taco bell - stress eating - high blood pressure - what to do if you think you will be alone forever - can you get your tear ducts removed to prevent looking like a woman - mezzo-soprano wiki - the worlds most expensive vodka - why do i sing journey so much when im drunk? wiki - king edward I of england - opera singing - taco bell philadelphia pa - how many rolls does oprah winfrey have? wiki - can you really fly with an umbrella like mary poppins? wiki - why are tall dudes so smashable? - open heart surgery - sharting - how to climb a coconut tree and then harvest said coconuts - tanka poetry - lil wayne - southern california - wendys locations philadelphia pa - how to enhance global warming because i hate winter - Jon Kortajarena - why does the smell of laundry make me hungry - pregnancy scares - teatro alla scala milano italia - gingers are gross - happy hitler - why do catholics love pain? wiki - liz lemon - what does it mean if you find your friends calling you benjamin button, hiram, or jack donaghey? - public intoxication laws pennsylvania - cinnabuns location philadelphia pa - why can i only sleep 15-45mns a night? - sleep studies philadelphia pa - death by ginger - poppin' a wheelie - lisa frank - chest pain for days, should i be worried - when i speak to, or of my mother, i have chest pain - life alert for college students - how to survive an elevator accident - also angels - emotional unavailability - snow angels - true blood - oren ishi'i kicks ass - chantilly va - lexus lx 570 -

The Only Good Thing To Come Out of the Sudan.....Ever

2010-01-25T08:47:00.001-05:00

GINGER FURY

2010-01-23T16:32:00.000-05:00

ATL

2010-01-13T15:14:00.002-05:00

That ho is workin' hard for the money. 2 dollars says she can shake it better than some lame two-legged whore.

Eine Disturbancia IN THE FORCE

2010-01-13T13:10:00.002-05:00

A) I am engaged to be married. Me. Michael Ian Arndt. Someone actually WANTS to marry me. Like voluntarily. Without me having to roofie him. Out. Of. Control. Anyway, I've said yes. I am not going to get all mushy and faggoty, but just thought I would share it with all (one) of my lovely fan(s).

B) I just got Photoshop. That means that I am going to be blowing this bitch up with horrible, mean-spirited, Photoshop'ed pictures of people I find online. And I am going to go back in time and edit many images from previous postings.

Facebook Fuckery

2009-12-29T01:30:00.005-05:00

Since I have pretty much exhausted stories of me for the time being, I am going to focus on other, lesser people. One has only to gently peruse their FB to be exposed to some of this terrible, toxic shit. If I ever kill myself, you know why:

(Images Courtesy of my fiancé)

Have A Seat

2009-12-29T01:25:00.003-05:00

Shhh, quiet. I know it hurts. Just absorb and then we can have an open forum discussion about it:

The Glamorous, Glamorous

2009-12-28T21:07:00.007-05:00

So, I've said this like 30+ times, but I know I have not updated this jawn in a hot minute, and I quasi apologize for that. Right then, moving right along.

Once again, because I am really popular and have lots of friends, I have spent a truly obscene amount of time perusing various dating sites (craigslist) and stumbled across some true beauties.

I have spent my whole life waiting for some of these gorgeous, glamorous, STUNNING creatures to find their way into my cold no-heart. Sample....

Its Been A Long Time

2009-12-16T14:55:00.000-05:00

Sorry. Sort of. Anyway, please check this out:

http://philadelphia.craigslist.org/m4m/1510561594.html

I will be writing profusely over break.

Poop

2009-11-04T15:26:00.000-05:00

I'd like to unveil a new word into the English language that I think will probably change lives (I might switch up the spelling to more properly make it pronounceable):

Lesololopus (noun) - an extremely fat dyke, a cousin to the John Goodman lesbian.

You know you've seen them "walking" down the street before, but you never knew what to call them. They weren't John Goodman lesbians, because if they weren't impossibly fat they would actually be cute. You even thought maybe it wasn't proper to call them lesbians because if they were even remotely thin they'd probably like dick; you get the impression they only go around mowing beaver because no one even has a dick long enough to penetrate anything other then their inner folds of blubber.

Great news, now you don't have to worry about offending anyone! By calling them a lesololopus, you're not even really committing to calling them bull dykes! Spread the Good Word!

And don't afraid to explore the versatility of the word. If you notice a friend of yours is getting a little fat and she tends to kiss girls when drunk, say to her, "Listen, I'm a little worried you're really lesololopusing it up. We need to talk about this before it gets out of control." Or if one of your friends is acting self-righteous, listening to Melissa Ethridge and eating deep-fried tofu, say something like this: "Oh wow, way to act all lesololopusly."

See! Go, tell your friends!

Why Ikea Is El Best

2009-10-25T19:44:00.001-04:00

Sample:

The First Annual PhotoShop Awards

2009-10-25T18:11:00.000-04:00

Look what happens when these pretty gals get their hands on a camera and let their creative sides out. Congratulations to all of our winners, and runners-up. You hard work and expertise of PhotoShop has not gone unnoticed! Good work everyone!

Muahahahha

2009-10-25T17:01:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to shout out the guy who asked me how my asthma was in front of Q Lounge a few weekends ago when I was with my friend Ben. Thanks for caring, friend.

Stunning

2009-10-25T16:41:00.000-04:00

In Memoriam: Mermaid Girl

2009-10-25T15:31:00.000-04:00

For the first time in awhile, I am finding it hard to write about something. I know I don't have emotions or whatever, but this shit hit home. Since seeing a documentary on Shiloh Pepin, many moons ago, I have always wished she could teach me how to swim. Think about it, I am a drunk, she is a mermaid, who better than she to teach me the ways of the water? We could swim amongst the dolphins, she could teach me how to leap joyfully through the air like so many of her happy merfolk. We would swim uninhibited through clear waters, through schools of rainbow colored fish, while "Colors of the Wind" by Pocahontas played in the background. We would laugh and cry together, over a world that did not understand us. We would be friends.

But all these dreams have been dashed. Torn apart and lit ablaze with the news that the Reina de los Mermaids died at age 10 in Maine on Freitag. Upon hearing the news, her uncle, King Triton (Ariel's dad), wept and ordered all the merpeople of his underwater kingdom to come to the surface and hold a candlelight vigil in her honor.

Respect.

Here's a little sample of her in all her Mermish glory. I recommend listening to the song 'Birthday Sex' by Jeremih while watching this video. It really brings out her eyes....

Lo Siento

2009-10-25T15:26:00.001-04:00

Ok so apparently I am dying. Hence why I haven't put shit up in awhile. I was in el hospital. But all is well now. Mostly. Anyway, having said that. There is much to be done.

Slanty-Eyed Deliciousness Over White Rice....Mmmmm

2009-10-09T00:04:00.000-04:00

If we lived in a perfect world I would be hosting a gala this weekend with an 'Oriental Paradise' theme. We would all sit around eating things with chopsticks, drinking chilled sake (mine would be mixed with Grey Goose) in homemade bamboo cups (Martha Stewart reference, anyone? anyone?). We would nibble on a humble egg roll while watching the following guest of honor perform:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ItLd8-P6nM

(Sorry, I can't embed it, the fucking sheisty China-man disabled it...but watch it anyway, NOW!)

During the intermission we would all cuddle together under the moonlit sky and watch the vintage footage of the atomic bombs being dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. A heart-warming documentary on Southeastern Asia's most prominent sweatshops...where the little workers of tomorrow knit as fast as their little prepubescent hands will allow. We would end that segment of the evening with hors d'oeuvres, more Grey Goose, and an inspirational documentary on the hardworking prostitutes in Thailand. A land where the women know their place, under the man. As said in the Bible, so followed it shall be. Kudos, Thailand!

After that is over we would have a Q&A with the asian woman in this video, mostly just asking, "What the fuck were you saying?"

Promise...

2009-10-08T00:47:00.000-04:00

...that I will post several things in the coming days. I do not recommend going to college for ANYONE, EVER....FOREVER. Its facking bullshit, they make you do all dis work n shit. And for the road, feast your starved little eyes on this beauty:

And a quick holla at the kids at Temple who have been introduced to this blog courtesy of one Christopher Conrad....we (and by 'we' I mean 'me' because I have no friends - that however does not preclude me from using the Royal We) here at M&S wish to greet you with open arms. Next fall I shall be joining you all on campus. In the meantime, I will be providing an update to include your 'Hipster Problem.' I will not let your suffering go unannounced. Have no fear. And to the kids at McCaskey HS, or at least the one girl that I know reads it, Ashley V., you rock.

You're The One That Knocked Up Ma Bitch

2009-10-05T22:47:00.000-04:00

In an effort to be a great friend, because I love abortion, and because I support trashy horror films (in all actuality I am a giant pussy, so shit like this scares the fucking Christ out of me ((probs why I am jewish))) I am pimping out Breaking Glass Pictures. A distribution company that used to be affiliated with TLA but now is working independently. A good friend of mine is interning for them and would like me to pimp out their debut release of the movie 'Hanger.' A movie about abortion gone terribly wrong. Don't let this movie fool you, ladies, stuff like this never happens. Don't be frightened to say bye bye to an unwanted visitor in the home that is your body (an actual example used in my Ethics course).

They also have 3 other trailers on their youtube channel that you ought to check out as well. One of them is called 'Run Bitch Run,' 'nuff said.

Friend them on FB:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Breaking-Glass-Pictures/146502844825

Youtube jawn:
www.youtube.com/bgpics

PS - Definitely check out Run Bitch Run, thats definitely going to be one of my favorite movies of all time. If it gets passed up for an Oscar I am moving to ~~Canada~~ Mexico. I mean seriously, the movie has sex, guns, blood, sex, guns, a murderous heroine and reminds me of Taratino. Basically everything you need in a movie to make it perfect. Check it.

Grammy Spoiler Alert!

2009-10-01T19:52:00.002-04:00

So the results are in, all the votes have been cast, and this treasure is picking up Best Music Video, Best Song, Best Performance, and....Best Everything Ever.

5k

2009-09-29T11:23:00.000-04:00

So I woke up this morning to see that Milk and Soda had had its 5000th page view since I put the hit counter on it at the end of May 09. To celebrate this achievement, we will be filming a documentary. It is going to be highly offensive, possibly result in my arrest, but damn it will be exciting. Get ready.

Yom Kippur & Bruised Ween

2009-09-28T05:17:00.000-04:00

So, to all you gentiles/non-chosen folk out there, last night (Sunday-funday) at sundown started the Jew holiday of Yom Kippur. Its where we repent for all the bad shit we've done in the past year. You're supposed to fast but I clearly am not capable of fasting. Though two years ago I did do it by accident, mainly because I was asleep for the vast majority of the holiday. Anyway, so in the spirit of Yom Kippur, I am just going to formally submit my blog as my list of things I need to repent for. This way God has it in writing if he needs to reference it at any given time to make me feel guilty, a tactic Jews are GREAT at.

In other news, I was informed today that this guy I slept with awhile back actually woke up the next morning to a bruised penis. I am not at all sure how this happened as the coital incident was mixed heavily with copious amounts of alcohol, but I'd like to formally apologize, I guess. I am not at all sure what went on, but he actually went to the doctor the next day and the doctor just laughed at him and asked if he'd had rough sex recently. The answer was yes. I didn't even know it was possible to bruise a peen, especially not from just letting it in. Good fucking God. This would indeed, happen basically only to me.

Dear Lisa Frank Journal:

2009-09-24T16:48:00.000-04:00

My morning:

I hopped up out the bed, turned my swag on, took a look in the mirror, said 'What's up?' and then put clothing on and walked to the subway. I also showered and brushed my teeth. Kind of irrelevant but you'll see the importance shortly.

So I get onto the subway, take it 3 stops to where I get off for school, and then walked 2 blocks to campus, and then to class. Ethics, to be exact. So I am sitting there listening to these wildebeest black ladies next to me talk about fried chicken and collard greens (not a lie), when my friend walks in and sits next to me. She takes one look at me and goes:

"HOOOLYYYY SHIT! Michael you have something on your neck!" Pretty much as loud as she possibly can. So I immediately turn red because I'm thinking somehow by myself, in my bed last night, watching TLC, with my tequila sunrise and chips and queso, I got a hickey. So I am like "You are a girl, get out your mirror!" She (and the fried chicken girls both) took out those little girl make-up mirror circular things. So now I am looking at this obnoxious indentation on my neck from all 360 degrees. After one of the fried chicken girls tells me it looks like I got 'bit by a mosquito with a pentagon for a sucker' I realize what it is.

I slept on the cap to a corona (I've been feeling very pro-mexican lately with my chips and queso and tequila sunrises) and it left a ridiculous dent in my skin. Sure enough when I got home there was the cap, laying in the bottom of the bathtub, apparently having been removed during my pre-conscious morning cleaning of myself.

So, uh, yeah, GREAT way to start the day.

As If Tonight Couldn't Get Any Better

2009-09-23T23:17:00.000-04:00

Fucking kudos to Bryce for these, I literally spit Jewhoo (YooHoo) and phlegm all over myself while watching them. Enjoy:

AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

2009-09-23T21:37:00.000-04:00

In a sudden upset, the world tilts off its axis as Secret Garden is replaced by Ursula as La Reina de los FatAsses of the World (Queen of the FatAsses) with this video:

My New Obsession

2009-09-23T21:32:00.000-04:00

This is gold.

Not Again....

2009-09-21T17:07:00.000-04:00

Jesus Christ.

Seriously? Is this really fucking real? I just cannot be party to such faggoty fuckery (alliterationnn). I am definitely drinking tonight. Thanks He-Wolf.

This Is Real

2009-09-19T17:31:00.000-04:00

I understand that the reason I am single is because I constantly put nothing into the universe but horrible karma by drinking excessively, making fun of people, and my overall ~~charm~~ assholeishness, but I can't stop:

I came across this beauty on DList. I'm feeling a photo montage...WITH commentary.

Here we have Rosario Dawsons twin gay brother. Making his 'OMG, my parents never paid me enough attention!' face. Or maybe its his 'OMG there's a sale at Spencer's' face. Your call. Hahahaha, side note: the song Freak Show just came on the girl next to me's iPod and its on so loud I can hear it.

Mira!!! Que exotico! Our jerry-curled beauty is also a zoo keeper. And by zoo keeper you know I actually mean Marilyn Manson used a snake in some photo op and this piece of greased up crazy needed his own.

*Takes out 90's boom box and plays Sail Away by Enya*

I think maybe the worst part about this whole thing is that this kid wrote on his profile, "I am a virgin by choice." *Pensive faccia*

Yeahhhh fucking rightttttt. And Mexicans aren't the best gardeners on the planet. BUUUUUUULLLLL-FUCKING-SHIIIIIITTTTTT.

And on a completely unrelated note:

Brian Saves The Day: Part Deux

2009-09-14T15:42:00.000-04:00

So you may remember a post on M&S entitled Secret Garden. It was perhaps one of the best posts ever posted, and it was brought to you via me by my lover Brian. Today Brian has saved my soul (haha as if I didn't pawn it off in 3rd grade for extra erasers and a bottle of Dom) and the souls of freshly clubbed baby seals. He has found Lady Wildebeest's (the "person" found in the Secret Garden post) long lost sibling (notice I refrain from using a gender here because its clearly up in the air). These two continents must be reunited. I will be taking donations at the bar later tonight for a fund to pull them back together.

It is a good day, today.

The Great Wall of Japan & Malbecs

2009-09-14T13:59:00.000-04:00

In an effort to sum up how college has been thus far during the academic year 2009-2010, one quote in particular sticks out:

"Can anyone tell me what was happening in Japan in 1904-1905 that catapulted the country into the national scene?"
"The Great Wall."
"Uh, well, first of all, wrong country. Secondly, wrong century."
"Uh, no. There is a Great Wall of Japan. There this restaurant in norf philly that is called the Great Wall and they got sushi and that japanese food."

So thats that. I'm not going to 'go there,' as they say. But just know, that it happened, and its real.

Moving right along. I like to drink a lot. I'll write more later. I've been busy. I'm ignoring e-mails from now on, btdubs. You guys can all go fuck yourselves.

Lalalala I',m drunk, This is Amazing

2009-09-12T22:04:00.000-04:00

Why My Mom Should Be The Queen Of Facebook

2009-09-02T22:26:00.000-04:00

So in an effort not to add insult to injury, I am not going to upload the picture around which this post originates, but I hope my descriptive words might bring some light to the situation. I logged onto my FB and see that my mother has commented on some girl's self-portrait. Its a picture of a rather hideous chica (aren't almost all of the girls that take such glamorous photos of themselves and post them publicly) laying in what I imagine to be a coffin, giving her mean (probably normal) face to the camera in semi-darkness. I knew immediately when I saw that my mother had commented, that it was going to be something good. And fail me she did not. And I quote:

"Okay, a little scary. Was your day that bad?"

I love my mother. And people wonder from where I get my charm...

Sibling Facebook Banter

2009-09-02T14:02:00.000-04:00

My post on my sister's FB wall this morning:

"Sometimes when I poop, I think about you. I am coming home this weekend."

Her response:

"Sometimes when I am making love in your bed....I think about you. Btw, I killed a millionthousand legger devil bug the other day. The remains of which are still on the living room wall."

My response:

"I hope you get crabs. And good. Don't let anyone clean it off. They need to see what will happen to them when they try to live in a fucking house that isn't theirs."

My Twin In Ft. Lauderdale

2009-08-31T10:24:00.000-04:00

A text from textsfromlastnight.com:

(954): I just got hit by a car and apologized to the driver. I asked him if he was okay.

To my twin, I love you, whoever and where ever you are. Stay strong.

Public Safety Announcement

2009-08-30T16:33:00.001-04:00

Tonight, brave souls and denizens of this brave city of Philadelphia, look to the south and at around 7PM you will see an explosion of rainbow colored fire, unicorns, glitter, tanning oil, astroglide, and all things Lisa Frank as Britney Spears performs at the Wachovia Center. I pray for your safety. If you fear for your life or the lives of your children, turn on ESPN, and keep the volume on max. Order some KFC (or anything really deep fried and fatty) this should keep los gays at bay. (But I can't promise Britney won't catch a whiff of the KFC and come knockin' on your door demanding a chicken leg or your first born). I will, because I am, like the Angel Michael, a brave soldier, be reporting from the front-lines. Wish me luck.

Oh, and to keep you entertained in the meantime....check this shit out:

http://peopleofwalmart.com/

OIUgiyuvbhkjnlk

2009-08-29T10:59:00.000-04:00

Stop fucking e-mailing me asking me why I haven't written anything in a few days. It has been 4 god damn days. Chill the fuck out.

PS - Some girls status on FB earlier: "My hope is placed solidly in the resurrection of our Lord & Savior, Jesus Christ!"

My response: I wish FB had a dislike button. My people killed him, he is definitely not coming back, nor did he ever. When we set out to do something, we get it done.

R.I.P Uncle Bud

2009-08-25T16:35:00.000-04:00

A good friend lost his Uncle Bud last night. Though we didn't know him, we mourn his loss and our thoughts are with his family. To the family: stay strong. To the departed: good luck, you will be missed.

A Most Holy War

2009-08-21T02:51:00.000-04:00

I come to you today not as a douchebag, champion drinker-booze hound, sarcastic blogger extraordinaire, social misfit and gay pariah - but as a concerned citizen of the world. Since I was a young boy, I have lived in constant fear and consequently constant vigilance of one of Satan's most deadly earth inhabiting minions: the House Centipede, better known by its scientific nomenclature as the Devil Bug. You may not be familiar with the name of this nocturnal sucubus, but once you see this picture the fear we all harbor deep within our souls will rear its ugly head:

Image courtesy of Wikipedia

Yes. You understand what I am talking about now. And perhaps it is not even necessary for me to continue writing, because the unholy fear you are all feeling right now speaks volumes in and of itself, just with a simple photograph. Or maybe (and very likely), you are brought back to a specific memory about this spawn of Beelzebub that shakes you to your very soul. That memory probably went a little something like this:

You've just entered your bedroom, eyes tired and heavy as you anticipate the sweet solace of slumber. You turn the light on and walk innocently into your room when it happens. You see, frozen in the sudden light, a Devil Bug defying gravity by clinging to your ceiling, right above your bed. Or on the wall, right next to your closet. As you move closer to inspect, it dashes off at the speed of light with its countless limbs, all moving in a dizzying haze. You jump and grab a book to kill it. If you are lucky enough to even get it, you realize that it is still very much alive. You also witness, in complete horror, as it detaches several of its legs that continue to writhe all around it like rallying troops, still intent on completing its master's plan: to ruin your life and destroy humanity. To eat your soul while you sleep. With your heart pounding against your sternum you continue to passionately deliver blow after powerful Holy blow to vanquish this creation of the Prince of Darkness, until you can be assured that it is beaten to a bloody pulp. After assessing the situation, you, still in fight or flight mode, get into your bed and get no rest whatsoever as the Demon of the Night is all you see when you close your eyes.

This scene is played over and over again in most regions of the world on an hourly basis. This needs to stop. We can no longer abide these terrorists. They must be eliminated. And the country of Japan must be petitioned to stop one of the most heinous acts known to man kind. What do I mean, you ask? Well, in Japan (yes, those people responsible for bringing us Hello Kitty and Pearl Harbor) Devil Bugs grow to be 4 inches in length. And the Japanese sell them as pets. In pet stores. Right next to innocent, adorable, harmless puppies. Now, I do not wish to defame the people of Japan, but what in the blood-soaked fuck is that? I understand that people get all in a tither about the slaughtering of dolphins and whales, but lets be real, that is much ado about nothing. The real threat is of the Devil Bug variety. This needs to end.

But here on the homefront, from California to the New York Island. From Redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters. This land was made for you and me. Not for you and me and Devil Bugs. I would recommend the following battle plan implemented by Marble and I when we lived together in a house that was infested:

First, go to your local grocery store or hardware store and purchase a can of Raid for every room in your house, plus two for assaults. Pesticides containing the compounds chlorpyrifo and/or propoxur are the most effective. Also purchase miner's caps (the ones with bright lights that sit on your forehead, and a regular hand-held flashlight. Also purchase two deluxe fly swatters. As these Bringers of Doom prefer damp, dark spaces, basements, closets, bathrooms, and under sinks are their favorite places to live and spin their metaphorical webs of death and destruction as their carry out their contract with the Fallen Angel. Secondly, find a friend. Preferably someone militant who understands your problem and shares your determination to vanquish the Devil Bug. Once the aforementioned steps have been taken, arm yourself (using the 2 spare cans of Raid, don the miner's caps, allow your friend to hold the flashlight, and both of you equip yourself with a can and a fly swatter), say a prayer, and descend into the darkness. It is best to do this in the dark, as these haters of anything light and good, come out primarily under cover of darkness. Then begin your assault. Spray anything that moves, and even things that do not. Spray in any area that looks like there are signs of their gypsy magic. Be sure to use your fly swatters to rustle anything that might look like it is harboring one of the terrorists. Do this until you have covered all possible territory, or until you have inhaled so much of the fumes that your head is pounding and/or you develop a nose bleed. In other words, fight until you can't fight anymore. Remember, you are God's warrior. Have no fear, and show no mercy.

I hope that some people take this very seriously, as the problem is more grave than most of you understand. Godspeed.

Why Frank Sinatra Was Borderline Amazing

2009-08-20T21:47:00.001-04:00

"I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that is as good as they're going to feel all day."

Direct quote from Mr. Frank Sinatra, a true genius.

I Am No Longer Safe

2009-08-20T12:21:00.000-04:00

Many years ago, when I was a wee lad working at Abercrombie & Fitch I acquired a stalker. I was like 18 or 19 at the time and he was scary. Our first encounter took place at A&F while I was working. I noticed this hideous clear case of FAS (Fetal Alcohol Syndrome) with braces and eyelashes for days walk into the store staring directly at me. And when I say staring, I noticed his one lazy eye was wonking in my general direction, so I made a beeline for the back of the store to hide in the women's section.

Escape fail. Three seconds later I see/smell something absolutely horrendous in my vicinity. I turn around and he is standing there "looking" at the ceiling and a rack of women's henleys. I run to one of the men's rooms. He follows. This is quickly becoming a game of cat and mouse, and I do not under any circumstances want to play, let alone be the mouse. So I run around one of the huge tables laden with polos only to almost run directly into this fowl creature. I have no choice but to say something.

M: Oh, hi. May I help you?
FAS: Hey, yeah, so, I am going dancing tonight.
M: Oh okay.
FAS: Yeah and the thing is, I don't really know anything about fashion. Do you think maybe you could help me with it?
M: I don't understand.
FAS: Could you explain fashion to me.

At this point, deep inside of my genius brain things were exploding. This is what death feels like. And what it looks like. After several minutes of staring into space:

M: Uh, well, you see, here we have jeans. Jeans come in different fits depending on how they're made. This is a button down oxford, this is a t-shirt, those are flip-flops, that is a henley, and finally, that is a sweater. Any questions?
FAS: Thanks for explaining. Can you pick me out an outfit to go dancing tonight? I really love dancing, do you wanna see?

I was not given an opportunity to answer as this FAS-afterbirth starts 'break dancing' in the middle of A&F to the gay club music they play. The explosions have stopped. Now puppies and angels are getting full-blown AIDS. My mind has completely stopped. I am crying, and I cannot control myself. It is as if my brain is begging for escape by jumping out of my eyes. To this day I can't listen to "Stars Are Blind" by Paris Hilton without having seizures.

I start to cough violently and he stops. I do not even acknowledge what just happened:

M: That shirt. Those jeans. - Points - Take them into the dressing room, now.
FAS: Ok, great!

As soon as he sloshes behind the dressing room I call the General Manager and ask her for backup. Being a good friend, she comes to my aid and hides just around the corner. When he emerges (by the way, wearing sizes at least 4x larger than he was) this happens:

FAS: So, whats the damage?
M: What?
FAS: How much does this all cost.
M: About $140.
FAS: Oh, well I only brought like 20 with me.
M: Right. Well then you should leave the clothing in the dressing room and leave. You can't afford anything here.
FAS: So, now I just have to leave?
- Enter stage left: La jefe, Erin -
E: Yes, yes you do. If you do not have enough money to pay for something, you have to leave.
FAS: What the fuck! I just fucking was talking to him, he is my friend.
M: I'm sorry what? I do not befriend the afterbirth of a baby with FAS.
FAS: What is that supposed to mean?
M: Look, just leave. I have never met you before tonight.
FAS: Yes you have, you just don't remember.
M: Oh, thats fucking typical. No such luck, please leave.
E: If you don't leave I will have to call the police.
FAS: What the shit, Michael you can't hide it anymore!!
M: OOOOOOKAY Courtney Love, lets go.

At this point FAS storms back into the fitting room, rips the clothing off, and leaves the store. I thought it was over. Done. Something to laugh about when drinking.

Fail.

After denying his friend requests on Myspace and Facebook for two weeks he shows up to my track meet. And to practice. And when I would play tennis with my friends. He was never far. Even after several screaming matches, he still followed. So I once called the police and they had to forcibly extract him from the country club I was at playing tennis with a friend. He did so kicking and screaming about emotions or something. I am not sure, I wasn't really listening.

Fast-forward 3 years or so. I am now living in Philadelphia. Far away from my woes in Lancaster. My friend and I are in Border's, and since he is obnoxious and goes into bookstores to simply read a copy of Entertainment Weekly (in place of buying it, like a normal person) so I am standing there letting ADD take control and just wondering around the magazine section when I catch a whiff of something peculiar. It smells like FAS afterbirth. I immediately look over to the only escape route: the escalator.

Cue the song "Every Breathe You Take" by the Police

FAS is looking directly at me (well with one eye, the other was browsing the Children's Section to the left). He walks right up to me and my friend (who is engrossed in Entertainment Weekly, not paying me and my well-being one ounce of attention) and:

FAS: Hey.
M: Hello.
FAS: How are you guys!?
M: Fine, thank you.
FAS: Do you guys want to go to a party tonight?
M: Yeah, no, not so much. We have plans.
FAS: Well if you decide to go, we are meeting at Woody's around 9 and then going from there.
M: Yeah, see, no.
FAS: Oh and there won't be drugs. I didn't mean party like that.
M: Well then certainly not.
FAS: Well hope to see you later!

FAS turns and leaves the store. Clearly he closed his one eye and watched me leave my building and followed me and my friend to Border's and swooped in for the kill. Later that night he was in front of my apartment building but across the street.

Traditional teachings tells us the only way to get rid of a stalker is to cut off his stalk. Seeing as how I do not wish to go to prison, if anyone has any better ideas, shout me out. Preferably via e-mail so I can file them away and evaluate them. arndtm1@gmail.com

Pray for my safety. And if you think stalkers aren't a danger, ask Gianni Versace, or John Lennon.

The World's Worst Idea

2009-08-20T12:15:00.000-04:00

So last night I thought I would see what it was like having a night with no drinking. It was the worst 2 hours of my life.

The New Michelangelo

2009-08-17T20:24:00.000-04:00

Daniel Marone is a diabolical genius. Enough said:

Probably The Best Post......Ever

2009-08-17T13:49:00.001-04:00

Glorious photo courtesy of Daniel Marone. This work of art was attained using the 'dodge and BURN' tool on Photo Shop :)

HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAY

2009-08-12T00:08:00.001-04:00

To my little baby sister. It is her 20th bdizzle and I thought, what a better way to celebrate her bday than to do a little photo montage:

This May Redeem Canada

2009-08-11T04:16:00.001-04:00

But only as a laughing stock. Sample this -there aren't words in the English language to describe something of this magnitude- video and prepare to have your world rocked. If you just can't seem to wrap your mind around it, I would recommend you watch it again. And again. And then go to youtube and search fred and sharon, and continue to sample their greatness:

I for one need to remember to hire them to do a movie video of my wedding. And I will shortly be placing a call to Sharon to ask where she got that gorgeous dress so I can purchase them in bulk for the bridesmaids at my ceremony. I can't fathom having a wedding without my lady friends wearing that spectacular ensemble. It just would not be complete. My hopes and dreams would be dashed if she told me it is no longer made. I would be forced to immediately phone the designers at Deb's and have them recreate the dress and special order them for my wedding.

Long live Canada. The best attic America could hope for.

Quote du Jour

2009-08-10T22:58:00.000-04:00

A black cook at the restaurant I work at:

"I only trust one white person, Michael Jackson."

In Memoriam

2009-08-10T22:53:00.000-04:00

A good friend of mine has been stricken with strep throat and his medication has rendered him unable to drink for the next 10 days. Being the great person and friend that I am, I have decided to drink for both of us for the next 10 days. I know, I know, you are thinking to yourself 'Wow, he is truly selfless, not unlike Jesus,' and let it be known, you are correct in your thinking.

This will be a shitshow.

Praise

2009-08-08T15:59:00.000-04:00

"this may seem wicked weird and creep-ish but I saw you on d list and saw the link to your blog and and stuff is truly unlike anything else I have ever witnessed and I believe has cured me of my week long depression, so thank you"

You IMed me that earlier, and I am currently still talking to you on the AIM, but I just wanted to say, no thank you, sir. Thank. You.

Me Talking About How Awesome I Am....Again

2009-08-06T13:15:00.000-04:00

Last night I got crunnnkkkk and in the process a random kid came up to me and the following happened:

Him: Aren't you Michael Arndt, from MilkandSoda?
Me: Yes, that would be me.
- Kid kisses me on the lips and walks away -

My life is fucking awesome. I would say that that is the first time I have gotten any type of actions from this blog but that would be a lie. To date I have had sex with 4 people because of this jawn.

Blame it on the alcohol.

The Time My Mom Found A Used Pregnancy Test

2009-08-04T20:52:00.000-04:00

I think I was in my senior year of high school when this happened, but whatever, it doesn't change how ridiculous this story is. This is the story of the closest the Arndt household has ever come to full-out WWIII where instead of mustard gas and anthrax, my mom would pack artillery cannons and guns with BC and Plan B.

The calm before the storm was the night before when my sister called me frantic and asking me to buy her a pregnancy test. Being a good braj, I quickly purchased her one and handed it over to her under cover of darkness so that my mom would not be alerted. I had no idea what was coming the next morning.

I awoke clumsily with an upset stomach, headache, and half opened eyes. This happens to me every morning when forced to rise at the ungodly and uncivilized hour that is 7AM. Sleepily I half crawled into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I did not notice my mother standing in the corner in her bathrobe, hair askew, and clutching a coffee mug when she tore into me:

Madre: Michael, would you like to tell me why I found a pregnancy test in the trash in my bathroom this morning?
Michael: What? What are you even talking about, Mom?
Madre: Michael, I found a pregnancy test laying on the top of the trash in the bathroom. Why was it there?
Michael: Why the hell are you asking me? I am the only person in this house that CANNOT get pregnant. And I am gay. What the hell?
Madre: Don't play stupid, Michael. Answer the question.
Michael: MOM! Stop it! I have no idea! Why don't you ask your daughter?
Madre: I already did, she said it wasn't hers.
Michael: Oh, right, well she couldn't possibly have been lying. Why on earth would I have a pregnancy test? I have sex with boys, there is no pregnancy involved.
- Madre sips her coffee while giving me the death stare, contemplating reality -
Madre: Get ready for school, you will be late. Again.
Michael: With pleasure.
Madre: And I want an answer by the end of the day.
Michael: Godspeed.

So my genius sister took the pregnancy test (which, thank all the Birth Control Gods in the sky came back negative) in my mother's bathroom, and instead of shoving it underneath the trash, laid it on top of the trash. And I somehow got blamed for it. Uterus-less and all.

Marble & Mike Try To Have A Sleepover

2009-08-04T20:39:00.000-04:00

Though Marble and I lived in Philadelphia, there were occasions, although seldom, when we would venture back to Lancaster to visit my mother and sister. On one such occasion, we ended up sleeping over. Now, my mother knows, and has known since I was like 14, that I'm a big ol' gay. So I imagined no shock or reaction when Marble and I decided to sleep in the same bed. I have a huge bed at home, and it can easily fit two people. Even those who lash about crazily in their slumber would be hard-pressed to hit the other person in their sleep in my bed. So Marble and I drift off into delightful sleep...

Enter stage left: blazing morning sun at 9AM. Madre is awake and opens my bedroom door, as she does most mornings, but instead of just saying adios because she is rollbouncing to work, she makes it rain on Marble and I. And not dollar bills, but boxes of birth control. Literally my mom threw a goodie bag filled with like, 4 boxes of Yazmin (birth control) onto the bed. As if to say, 'Not on my watch, Michael. Not on my watch.' She didn't even say goodbye, nothing, just opened the door and unceremoniously tossed the BC onto the bed, right in between Marble and myself.

When asked later why she felt it necessary to throw BC on two innocently sleeping human beings, she simply responded: "Every girl should be on BC, Michael. It is a wonderful thing and pretty much eliminates unwanted pregnancies. Plus, its good for the skin."

It really makes me wonder, what if I weren't a gay? What if I brought a girl home and slept in the same bed as her? Would my mother, in the dead of night, don a miner's cap and use a vacuum cleaner and kitchen utensils to perform a hysterectomy on my girlfriend? The answer, sadly, is probably.

Maternal Guidance

2009-08-04T20:28:00.000-04:00

While at dinner this evening with Marble I was informed (and I later confirmed independently this via FB) that my mother and sister had the following exchange via FB status and comment:

Chelsea Marmlestein (not my sister's real jawn): Don't relive pictures of when you were 100lbs lighter. It's a self-esteem shitter.

Now in reality my sister has gained, maybe, 5lbs. So she is probably a grand total of 105 lbs, 90 of those being her boobs. What is my mother's response to this? To maybe say, 'Don't be so hard on yourself, Chelsea, you look beautiful,' or 'You are being ridiculous, you're perfect.' Nope, wrong. My mother wrote:

Madre: Or a motivator to go to the gym?

Yep, yep she did. My mother's pathological phobia of all things fat allowed her to make this comment. In public, on FB for the world to see.

Family Favorites

2009-08-04T20:08:00.000-04:00

Due to the success of the Vagina McChicken story, I have decided to add a new segment to this blog showcasing the insanity that is my lovely family. I know it is highly awkward for you to hear me speak so affectionately, but really, these people are nuttier than fruit cake (a saying coined by a black co-worker). Let me quickly introduce you to the players:

My Mother: A bright, attractive, middle-aged gynecologist living in the countryside of Lancaster Co., PA. She is undeniably neurotic (that bit is probably my fault). She is terrified of fat, hates fat people, loves not eating, drinks the finest boxed wines, is obsessed with Lifetime and anything remotely related to gossip (be it a local criminal scandal, or celebrity gossip). She also loves the Dog Whisperer and fancies herself his protege, though our dogs' training stopped after they learned to go to the bathroom outside. My mom is also an ardent supporter of abortion and birth control. There are Nuva Rings (a birth control device you shove into the vaginal canal to prevent los babies) in our refrigerator next to the boxed wine, and a CVS pharmacy full of samples in her bathroom closet.

My younger sister: Mi hermanita is a pretty cheerleader who lives with my mother. In her spare time she enjoys crashing cars (to date she has crashed an Audi A4, a Toyota Celica, and a VW Passat, which was mine). She is an au pair to this little like 9 month year old boy. She loves drinking and generally inappropriate behavior. She used to be a pretty huge bitch until my mom let her get a breasts reduction when she was 15.

Anyway, so I will be adding stories about them from time to time. One very short one is going to follow this entry.

It's Hereditary & Vagina McChicken

2009-08-03T12:35:00.000-04:00

So last night I was at a bar with some friends telling a ridiculous story about my mother, when I realized that ridiculousness is hereditary. Shit like that which I am about to spill on you, only ever happens to me and my mother. So begins the infamous tale of the Vagina McChicken...

It had been a blustery winter in upstate New York where I was cooped up in my all-boys boarding school on the frozen St. Lawrence river. I was minding my own business in a study hall when my Head of House, Leslie Bass, delivered a printed e-mail from my mother. Innocently I began to read:

Hola, Son!

How are things up there in the FAT (for readers: FAT is an acronym meaning Frozen Ass Tundra, a name my mother gave my school and the general region after having had visited in January where temperatures routinely reach -30F)? Things here are going well. Your sister is adjusting to high school rather nicely. I had a most interesting day at work.

My first patient of the day was a woman in her early 30's who was nearly 8 months into a pregnancy and in my office for her annual exam. As I began the crotch-peeking (Yes, my mom refers to her job as a gynecologist as crotch-peeking, and to herself as a crotch-peeker) I noticed that things were not as they should be. As I went in deeper with the speculum I came across what appeared to be a foreign object up against this woman's cervix. I removed the foreign object with some forceps and laid it on the exam table. Thinking to myself, 'This would appear to be a leg of seasoned chicken,' I also thought I could not possibly be correct in my thinking.

So I left the exam room for a moment and asked one of the other docs, Dr. Patel (not the real name, but made up for privacy) to come and give her opinion as to what I had discovered in this woman's vaginal canal. Dr. Patel and I examined the object very briefly and came to the conclusion that, indeed, this was a leg of seasoned chicken. A leg of seasoned chicken inside of this woman. INSIDE OF HER VAGINAL CANAL!!!

Well I had the MA (medical assistant) remove the chicken and take it to the incinerator because it stunk, shockingly enough. In doing so, she informed every person in the office of my find and we aptly named it, Vagina McChicken. The McDonald-inspired title came from that cow that works at the front desk. Yes, the one I had to special order a stronger chair for because her 300lbs self broke the other one.

Collectively we came up with 3 plausible reasons as to why this woman had chicken in her vaginal canal:

a) She was just into that.
b) She ran out of room in her refrigerator.
c) She was trying to feed her unborn child.

Either way this woman was nutso. Anyway, gotta jet! Hope you had a good day!

Love,
Mum

At about half-way through the second paragraph of my mother's email I stopped mid-step and went catatonic, only to be brought back to reality by one of my dorm fathers who was yelling my name from across the room. He rushed up to me and asked me if everything was okay because apparently I looked like I had just read that someone in my immediate family had dropped dead. I simply stared back at him with a blank expression and handed him the email. The effect was very similar on him.

Oh wait, not entirely. His reaction after coming back to reality was to tell the ENTIRE study hall (that had kids that were like 13 in it) to come to the Wisdom family meeting later that night to hear me read the email.

As aforementioned, this shit only ever happens to me. But next time one of you disgusting fucks (I am talking to one of you in particular who eats McDonalds on the reg) eats McDonalds, think of juicy seasoned Vagina McChicken. And then get wasted.

On Selling My Sperm

2009-07-28T10:59:00.000-04:00

There comes a time in every (well, some, especially if you are like me) college guy's career where he contemplates selling his own seed. Or as my friend calls semen - knuckle children. My time came at the age of 20 after seeing an advertisement on the subway; I was low on cash money flow and figured, since I produce truly copious amounts of the stuff, and enjoy releasing it, why not make a buck? Right?

My inner-Jew was weaving wonders in my brain of just how much money I could make without actually being a real life prostitute. I envisioned going to various clinics/doctor's offices (not unlike Michael Jackson did to get drugs....Oh, wait, too soon) on a weekly basis; jerking off into cups and in a haze of post-orgasm elation, handing over my specimen to kind, gentle staff who would praise my humanitarianism, and my superb knuckle children.

So one day I made an appointment at said fertility clinic. After filling out a few forms, I was taken into a room and asked several questions by a nurse. The conversation went a little something like nyah:

Nurse: Do you smoke?
Me: Smoke what?
Nurse: Cigarettes, or any form of tabacco.
Me: Why, yes. Yes I do.
Nurse: How many packs per day?
Me: Oh, only about half a pack per day. <-----Blatant Lie
Nurse: Do you currently, or have you ever taken any recreational, non-prescription drugs?
Me: That certainly is possible m'am, I am in college, you know.
Nurse: What types of drugs?
Me: Well you didn't ask about prescription medications, so that knocks off a few - I would say generally just the marijuana. You know, on a casual, once in a blue moon kinda thing.
Nurse: What prescription medications have you taken that weren't prescribed to you?
Me: Prescribed to me at the time, or prescribed to me never?
Nurse: Prescribed to you never.
Me: Oh, well, none in that case.
Nurse: Right. I will make a note of that. Do you drink alcohol?
Me: Oh, yes.
Nurse: How often?
Me: Just, you know, every once in awhile. Why is that a problem?
Nurse: The doctor will discuss that with you. Have you ever been in any type of addiction rehabilitation facility?
Me: Just rehab. Nothing serious. It was more of a vacation.
Nurse: Do you have, or does anyone in your family have a history of mental illness?
Me: Of course they/I do. My dad was a psychiatrist. You think there are sane psychiatrists out there?
Nurse: Have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?
Mike: Well yeah but mine doesn't count. I got this crazy Chernobyl strain of jock itch in my downtown region from an ex-boyfriend. It went away with some cream.
Nurse: How many sexual partners have you had?
Mike: What? And I should know that how?
Nurse: Well most people keep track. Do you have an estimate?
Mike: Yes, I like to drink and drinking makes me horny. I am also a 20 year-old young male adult. Below 30-ish.
Nurse: Well that about sums up my part. Someone will back to talk with you shortly.

I sat in this exam room, completely convinced that I had effectively sold my sperm to the highest bidder for 20 minutes before another nurse-ish person entered the room with a clipboard. I saw no porn, no specimen cup, and no warm towel and/or paper towels. I grew concerned. Then, without batting so much as an eyelash, this woman informed me that they would not be able to accept my sperm on account of my family health history (left out of the conversation above due to its relative lack of anything noteworthy - cancer, diabetes, heart disease; same as everyone), my drinking habits, my stint in rehab, and my prior/current drug use.

I was floored. What were these people playing at? I mean, I am much above average in intelligence, creativity, humor, and various other things. Not to mention I am relatively handsome. You can't have it all. If you want my prodigal sperm, you're going to have to deal with a few stints in rehab, some unsettling behavior, and late nights. It just comes with the territory, for Christ's sake.

Needless to say, they wouldn't budge and I ended up going home and wiping away my knuckle children down the shower drain.

Stupid Shit du Jour

2009-07-28T06:43:00.001-04:00

An actual conversation I had:

Kid: "So what do your parents do?"
Me: "My mom is an NP and my dad was a physician. What about you?"
Kid: "Oh, my mom is a secretary and my dad is a physician."
Me: "Oh, what kind of physician?"
Kid: "Uhm, I'm not really sure. Uhm, he is one of the ones that drives those thingies." *Make the steering wheel hand motion*
Me: Cue awkward silence; *takes deep swig from beer bottle, takes a long drag from cigarette.*
Kid: "Yeah uhm, you know," Pause. "Oh! An ambulance!"
Me: "Oh, so you mean he is an EMT."
Kid: "Yeah he is an ambulance driver doctor. But he is going back to school now."
Me: "Oh, right. Well, thats cool."

So may we, just for a brief moment, have an open-forum discussion? In what alternate universe is an ambulance driver (or even an EMT ((Emergency Medical TECHNICIAN))) an MD? A doctor? A physician? Someone who has attained the highest level of education possible in the field of medicine? And also, I would LOVE to know, in this alternate universe, why would a MEDICAL DOCTOR go back to school? And for what, I might add? To become a super doctor? Come on, I mean really. If you are going to try to impress a guy who has parents who are actually IN the medical field, why wouldn't you choose to lie about something else that he may not actually know EVERYTHING ABOUT?!?!?! Say veterinary medicine, for example. Or even....well something else. I would say law but I am going to be a lawyer and he knew this, so that would also have been a bad life decision on his part. I was blown away by this conversation. Completely and utterly speechless. Blown right out of the water, I was. I hope that this does not happen on a regular basis to anyone else. Although, let's be real. This is me we are talking about, Michael Arndt. This shit only happens to me.

Having said that, I ask, 'Why God? Why? You wonder why I drink, this is why.'

Quotes

2009-07-28T04:29:00.000-04:00

"Why would you pee MY pants?"
"Because I am THAT drunk."

"Is it at all strange that I only want to fuck married women now after having wrecked, in 2 months, 2 homes?"
"Not at all, that is an incredibly admirable batting average. Full steam ahead."

"What does it mean when it burns when I pee? And my penis is like barfing green shit at me, btdubs."
"Dude. You totally have the clap. I told you that girl was no good."
"Fuck. Which Planned Parenthood does your mom work at? I really would like to avoid any awkward questions or judgments on my character as one of your best friends."
"I appreciate that."

"Paloma, why are you walking like you have hot coals in your vagina at 7am?"
"Just call your mother, I need the Plan B."
"You didn't use a condom?"
"All I remember is seeing one condom, the whole night. And I think it happened like 7 times. But still, just one condom."
"Well next time someone introduces themselves to you and your friends as, 'Chester the Molester,' please take heed and run."
"Well next time don't make me play Edward 40 Hands with Colt 45 and we won't have this problem."

"My vagina is broken. Please turn on the heated seats. I am about to straddle your passenger seat."

"No way, that baby cannot be mine. First of all, I only played the 'Just the Tip' game with her. Second of all, she is a huge whore, her vagina can't possibly be able to create life."
"When you say 'Just the Tip' did you mean, 'the tip of my cock touches your cervix?"
"Well yeah, but I always usually pulled out in time."
"That baby is so yours."
"Fuck you. How is it that you are gay and you know more than vaginas and the STDs they call babies than I do and I am straight?"
"Because you fail at life, sir. You. Fail. At. Life. But you'll make a great daddy."

"I think I might not have a life."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I am sitting at home with my 50 year-old mother drinking boxed shiraz and watching a Lifetime special about a woman who was molested as a child, then grew up to have a daughter who was raped and consequently turned to drugs and cutting to solve her problems."
"You just named every Lifetime special ever."
"Touche."

"Just make sure you bring the Arby's, and the Taco Bell."
"Michael, I just got pulled over for speeding and I think I am still high."
"First of all, the food is for me, do not even think about eating it. Being high is your problem. Secondly, please inform this officer of the law that he is in no way allowed to touch or sample my food. Make sure he does not steal it. His job is to serve and protect, no where in that motto does it reference piping hot fast food for a drunk man who pays his taxes. I am waiting for you in my front lawn wearing reindeer pajama pants, a Harvard hoodie, a bathrobe and slippers; I cannot possibly go back into the house in this state. Godspeed."

Hipster Alert

2009-07-28T03:52:00.000-04:00

It has come to my attention that the United States of America is under going a major Hipster Crisis that desperately needs attention. Not unlike starving children in 3rd world countries. Though, I would argue that this issue take precedence over starving children because unless we control, contain, and rectify the hipster problem, we cannot help those starving children you see on infomercials at 3AM.

What is a hipster you might ask? Well. Allow me to demonstrate photographically:

(image via re1000.wordpress.com)

I hope you are beginning to understand the severity of the problem at hand. Being a devout denizen of the city of Philadelphia I encounter this problem on a daily basis. It is no longer possible for me to walk the fine streets of this city without having the problem shoved unceremoniously under my nose. My reaction is to put on my did-you-just-shove-dog shit-under-my nose face. These 'people' (if I must even refer to them with such a lofty title) make living a chore. Talking to them is even more painful. Here is a brief description as to why:

1) Their men wear pants so tightly, as if to signal, 'Hey, I am so cool and so straight that I can actually shove the entire shaft of my penis, AND my balls into my asshole in order to fit into these women's size 00 jeans. Be jealous of my masculinity and my overall awesomeness.' They also, when coupled, share jeans with their girlfriends or boyfriends. This right is, as everyone knows, normally a right which is bestowed only upon homosexual couples. It is our small reparation for having to take it in the ass, or wear a strap on (or, and not to be personal, but mow beaver).

2) Their haircuts generally can be described only as 'complicated.' And by complicated I mean, not washed, dyed, and cut by their best friend who goes to art school and uses a lawn mower.

3) Even in the dead of summer, in a hot, over-crowded bar, they will wear fucking scarves.

4) Speaking of bars, Hipsters tend to drink ridiculous old men drinks, i.e., dirty martinis, shaken, never stirred (they learned this watching James Bond), scotch on the rocks, and the occasional Bloody Mary. Fucking disgusting.

5) As far as musical interests are concerned, they are certain to listen to bands you have never heard of in your life. They will be sure to let you know that they do if you mention anything remotely mainstream.

6) They only movies they watch are foreign indie films. They will watch them in their native language even when they do not know the language.

7) They will vehemently deny being a hipster. And then head toss their obnoxiously long, face covering bangs to the side and sip their dirty martinis.

So, you see, ladies and gentlemen, this problem is literally stripping our society of all that we have come to value. They are eroding the pillars of our world, and everything we hold dear. Please: if you have a hipster friend, talk to them. Communication is key here. Stage an intervention (if you happen to need spiritual guidance for the intervention of your loved one, I am available, as a man of the cloth, for pro bono services). Show them pictures of themselves. Video of them denying their disease. Always remember that you love your hipster. You just do not love who they have become. Acceptance and admittance are the first steps in overcoming this dreadful malady.

Lastly, only through this may we achieve world peace, end starvation, cure cancer, and live in harmony.

Rev. Michael I. Arndt

2009-07-21T10:59:00.000-04:00

In what is perhaps, the most ridiculous thing I have ever done, and by far the most blasphemous, I today, became an Ordained Minister. How you ask? Simple: www.universalministries.com

I am now available for weddings of any kind for a very minimal fee.

Create your own FACEinHOLE

Beauty Pageant Finalists

2009-07-20T17:19:00.000-04:00

Next time you are feeling like you're good looking, come here and be humbled (oh PS - none of these are in any way shape or form edited, I find all of these on DATING websites and/or craigslist):

HIoi

2009-07-18T03:02:00.000-04:00

I wuod liekt otake theis aopprutinuy to say i dont dunk. ever. i donrt liek to be rdrinkg for beacuse its bard for you, but ilove dtits and really talls guysg with black hair abd who are tin the militaryt. or doctors. or theyts really fucte. love youuuuuu

Addendum: So apparently I wrote that while massively intoxicated. No, its not a joke. I Was black out drunk Saturday when I wrote that shit. Yep. Alright.

Listen

2009-07-17T15:11:00.000-04:00

I realize its been like, more than 2 weeks since I've written on here. but rest assured, I have just been fucking busy. Those of you with no lives that are having a hard time with the absence, let me know. I will do shots with you, lick your nipples and rub your no-no area to make up for it.

In other news, today is my Madre's bday! Wooooohoooooo Happy Birthday Madre!!!!

Pimp theimpulsivebuy.com

2009-07-01T13:53:00.000-04:00

So last night I met one of the authors of a lovely blog called theimpulsivebuy.com and her name is Kayla and she is a delight. Forget fucking gay-ass Consumer Reports. Theimpulsivebuy.com is where its at. Please do me a solid and check them out, its really great shit kids...They have reviews of everything from beer to body wash, from milkshakes to body hair trimmers.

PS - Love you Kayla.

NTS (Note To Self): Best way to get yourself into bed by 10PM if you have insomnia: Sleep for 1 hour the night before, preferably from 5a-6a and then get up, take a public train somewhere far, take a standardized test, walk 10 blocks, take train back, start drinking at 2pm. You will be asleep by 10. Trust me.

NYE08

2009-06-26T18:15:00.000-04:00

I can't believe I never told you kids this story before, because it is one of my all-time favorite stories. It is the story of the happenings at la 2126 Montrose (my old house with my beautiful roommate Marble) on the night of December 31 2007, aka New Year's Eve 2008.

First a little preface: A few months prior to the shitstorm that was NYE08, I invited a displaced friend of mine to come live on our couch. Aka, one of the top worst decisions I have ever made in the history of my life (which is full of bad life decisions). Anyway, so we had 3 people living in our house. Me, Marble, and La Mistake. On the night in question, Marble was at work.

Ok, so fast forward to NYE08. We spent, God maybe $300 on alcohol and just invited pretty much everyone ever to our house for La Fiesta de Fiestas. Not only was there a shitfuck of alcohol in our house, but there was also a copious amount of the weed. I am still not really sure how that got there, but it was everywhere. You would have thought we were partying with Pablo Escobar. So needless to say, by midnight, I was stumbling around with the ability to only open one eye completely (which happens to me a lot). Anyway, the ball drops, we scream, chug champagne, spill alcohol everywhere, all over each other, about 50 marijuana cigarettes (love that term) were lit, and things got a little fucking weird.

So first of all, me and three of my best friends, and I am assuming my boyfriend at the time (who had NO idea what he was getting himself into when he agreed to come to this shitstorm) retreated up to my bedroom to have our own private fiesta. Alcohol. Maybe some something else, and lots of potato chips. We must have spent about an hour or so in room. When we returned to the downstairs, we were greated by half the population of the southeastern country of Loas in my living room. Because I may or may not have been really high, I thought they were all pokemon. Especially this one named Emeroll or something ridiculous, because he was literally trying to fly from my expensive leather couches to different pieces of furniture in the room.

My logical response?

Head right for the bar in our dining room and chug on a bottle of the nearest alcohol. Big mistake. That bottle happened to be Courvoisier. That shit is fucking disgusting. I do not care what 50 cents or any black person says, that shit tastes like straight asswater. I threw up in my mouth and, like a champ, swallowed it right back into my little tummy. Then I am beckoned by Paloma, who tells me to come to the bathroom and witness the most disgusting display of vomit I will ever witness. Naturally I am completely unconcerned about the fact that this is my house, and a very nice one, I might add.

I retreat through the crowd of chopsticks and General Tso's Chicken and up into my bathroom. There I see, to my horror/supreme amusement, someone throwing up in my sink, someone throwing up in my toilet, and someone throwing up into my bathtub. And perching like a sickly bird, is my friend B. She is so drunk that she is swaying perilously on the spot, in danger of falling back into a mote of sick and conditioner.

Again, logical response?

M: B, come here babe. Put your head in Michael's lap, its going to be okay.
B: No, no, no I am going to puke.
M: No, that is totally okay. Let it all out, angel.
B: BAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHLLLLLLAAAAAAAAFFFGGGHHHHHHHHHH

Yup, all in my lap. All over my brand new Armani jeans. I seem to be COMPLETELY okay with this, as at that point my then boyfriend jumps into the bathroom to snap a few pictures of this fuckery, laughing hysterically.

After that, I have nothing.

I truly consider it to be my best New Year's to date.

Faith

2009-06-26T18:13:00.000-04:00

My faith in humanity has been restored. Just saying.

Hysterical Bullshit Du Jour

2009-06-25T17:36:00.000-04:00

I received an e-mail this morning when I got up from someone who claims to be a former lover, who I wrote about on this site. The e-mail is comedy gold. Enjoy:

Mike, you are a fucking asshole! I always knew you were mean-spirited. I can't believe you wrote about me on this fucking website. One of my friends read it and remembered when I told him what happened with you and showed me it. I am so pissed off. It is not funny! I bet you are having a pretty great laugh right now, at my expense. But HOW DARE you! That was done in the privacy of my home. Not for public display. And I have a girlfriend now, so please don't write about anything else.

My response (which I am posting here, not e-mailing back to him):

A few things:

a) We knew each other for a grand total of maybe 5 hours. Maybe.
b) You watched me tell one of my friends to fuck her feelings for her ex-boyfriend away. If that wasn't a clue that I was mean spirited, I think that qualifies as a life-fail for you, mon ami.
c) And as for your assertion that it was done in the privacy of your home, I beg to differ. I believe half of what happened that night was done in the bathroom of a bar. (Remember when you slobbed on my knob before we left? yes yes?)
d) I pray to all the major and minor deities that one day I see you and your new beard out in public because I will promptly inform her about how you love to munch ass and suck on these nuts.
e) One asks oneself, did you realize I didn't use your real name? Yes? No?
f) Your coital performance is laughable.

Love,
Michael

Later This Evening...

2009-06-23T14:59:00.000-04:00

After pleas of help from humanity, I will be making a delightful response to the whole Perez Hilton getting punched in the face situation later this evening. I wish I could impress upon you the gravity of the issue. I will attempt to do that later, via this here blog and la Youtube.

I love you all.

Ok - I lied. Maybe tonight.

Quickly

2009-06-20T15:38:00.000-04:00

Can we have a quick, open forum discussion about trannies (the plural of tranny, I am assuming). I know a tranny. I have confirmation that it is, in fact, a tranny and still has boy-boy parts down in its no-no zone. The other day this tranny told me she was having menstrual cramps.

.......

Feel that for a minute.

Like are you REALLY serious right now? Really? Really. I really can't handle this. Not even for pretend.

Skittles & Lisa Frank Unicorns

2009-06-18T18:04:00.000-04:00

Short but sweet.

After observing Philadelphia's Pride festivities the past couple of days or whenever it began/ended, I have a few tips for girls who may be dating gay men - the last one should tell you why I decided it was important to put this out there:

You might be gay if you like to put peen in your mouth.

You might be gay if you like to put peen in your chocolate starhole.

You might be a gay if you like to have peen in your chocolate starhole.

Your boyfriend might be gay if his clothing is more glittery/torn/baby gay-esque/adorned with rainbows than yours.

Your boyfriend might be gay if he has to be drunk to kiss you.

Your boyfriend might be gay if...HE MAKES YOU COME TO GAY PRIDE PARADES WITH HIM!!!!!

Like REALLY?!??!?! Jesus christ on a Lisa Frank float. I saw the most tragic/pathetic thing in the world. More sad/tragic/pathetic than my attempts at courtship, sobriety, sanity, and sexual normalcy combined. I was working and this couple walks in and at first I think that it is just a really pretty girl and her blatantly obvious gay BFF. They sit. Then they hold hands. And I think to myself, 'Oh, that's awkward.' But I go about my business until I see them kiss.

....

Then I see her hand on his bedazzled thigh.

......

Then all the Unicorns in the universe burst through the doors of the restaurant and start neighing at her and breathing rainbow-colored fire at her bleach blond locks!

Or at least they might as well have. At this point I am blatantly eavesdropping, without shame. This kid had this conversation with his gf to the maximum:

Gay: Thank you so much for coming with me to support my friends.
Chica: Of course I would babe. Its just a shame none of them showed up.
Gay: Yeah, it kinda hurt my feelings, I wanted you to meet them. (Enter stage left: Michael pulls gun out of server apron, cocks the trigger, and places barrel in mouth)
Chica: Awww, well lets finish eating and then go home and watch Notebook.

BARF AND BRAINS FLY EVERYWHEREEEEEEEEEE

I can't deal with that shit. Ugh, fucking sick. They deserve each other. Although I have plenty of friends (Matthew, I am talking at you) who would love nothing more than to knock the dust off her poor neglected cho-cha.