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in a somewhat odd $500 swing, zach went from being in the hole $200+ to be sitting in a $100 buy in heads up tourney with the scientist to go up $300+ on the night.

we have a problem.

after a 45 minute battle royal where pit falls and submissions DO NOT COUNT, the scientist with AJd called an all in preflop raise by zach with A9o. the 9 never came.

the scientist is o so tite.

well zach, you still went to bed with 100 lil’ washingtons to fluff up your nighty night time pillow. good show.

also, scat update, i made it to the boss on level IV. this time i think it is the last guy, but i am probably most certainly wrong.

poo poo pa choo.

in taint news, mine smells. this is because i am fat. also due to a love of bacon and gopher racing. a grown man does not die.

are we gigglin? er?

in keyboard news letters are up big while special characters are obscured with a shift necessity. racial equality is on the forefront.

the queen of england might be able to help the jews.

VCRs are cool, but not sam malone cool.

i think if 2 pac was alive today he would spell his name twopac… just because, you know, Xpac was taken. also, elvis would be called earl.

if corn could feed 2 midgets for a week, then what could a zoolywhacker do for chicken? what about chicken sticks? where do they fall in the pyramid of dopplehangers? somewhere in the middle? somewhere slightly off center? africa?

if a butt makes poop, and urine is yellow, then why all the attitude? seriously… if a helper monkey can wax a chevrolet, then a yelping flunky can dance in the hay. hey hey.

we. are. the. monkeys.

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A sad day indeed dawned as one of the foremost visionaries of television died today. Mary-Ellis Bunim is dead today at 57.

Where now will all the dumbs of the world get their weekly updates on what a bunch of pretty twentysomethings are doing in a lavish house? How indeed will America react when 6 drunkards can no longer ape and play for the cameras? Now that I think about it, how will tean girls be able to live out their fantasies of traveling through South Asshole, Wyoming in a Winnebago? The kissing, the “hook ups”, the DRAMA (I meant that in the “baby-momma-drama” sense of the word, not the Shakespearean drama sense). HOW WILL WE CONSUME UTTERLY VAPID ENTERTAINMENT NOW?

And the answer is: Jonathon Murray still lives to carry on the torch of entertainment mediocrity. He is already interviewing cast members for Real World: Candy Land where we see what happens when people stop being polite and start being real in a gingerbread house in Fantasyland! He’s already cast the jewish princess, the hip-hop thug, the white guy from Montana, and the homosexual. I think he’s still looking for the Piltdown Man, a hot dog vendor, and Donald Trump so that the house will be the ultimate take on “reality”.

Piltdown Man: “urrrr”
hip-hop man: “Yo dawg, this ape-man is buggin!”
white guy: “buggin!? I don’t understand your ’street slang’ HOMEY”
Donald Trump: “You are all beneath me.”
hot dog vendor: “Hey Donald, want to buy a hot dog?”
Donald: “yes”
hot dog vendor: “$400″
homosexual: “ssomebody jusst got sswindled!”

I hate reality TV. Dave Chappelle is funny. The fact that I used up 8 precious hours of my life to watch the Soroity Life marathon last spring makes me want to fucking puke.

Again, Mary-Ellis Bunim dead at 57.

–whazz on

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So last night we had several close acquaintances over to watch what is normally the best WWF show of the year: The Royal Rumble. A 30 man Battle Royal to decide who goes on to the Main Event at Wrestlemania in March. As is our custom, for every match you pick the winner before the opening bell; if your pick loses then you have to chug one (1) can of beer. Side bets are allowed (e.g., “hey, I bet you half a beer that the jilted ex-lover of that wrestler comes out and sticks a dildo in his ass resulting in a DQ” “you’re on man!”).

Prior to this PPV, the loser of the main event match also received, courtesy of the winners, one Flair Chop. For the Royal Rumble, though, we had to do something bigger and better. And thus I bring you:

Wherein, if, out of the 30 wrestlers in the Rumble, you pick the one who wins it all, you are allowed to perform one (1) wrestling move on any other contestant into the pool in our backyard. Guess who won? Me. Moneypenny. RAJ. Hell yes. What person did I choose? The Madd Scientist. What move did I do? A bulldog.

NOTE: To save these on your computer right-click on the images and select “Save Target As…”

Click to download, bitches.

Click here to download a slightly smaller version of the Bulldog. Oh yeah.

So after I did that everyone else wanted to get into the fun as well. So, without further ado, here are a few more idiots like myself doing wrestling moves into a swimming pool:

Oh Scientist, you take moves so well.

The deadly (when done onto concrete) F-U.

–whazz on

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We have a new Old Man on Whazzmaster.com. He gets to bed early these days, and generally enjoys playing both with his Scrabble Board and with his dogg. He’s got a great gal who enjoys tambourines and fashions herself a fantastic garage porno motorcycle star.

Happy 28th Birthday Wirkuswhazz. Here’s to the guy I used to get confused with Phil Dashlet at the HoJo.

The first bar I ever drank in was the Red Shed, where Wirkus took me to take advantage of the fact that Marksie worked there as a bartender and would wave us past the bouncer. I only had 4 drinks, which I remember to this day: a large Long Island Iced Tea, a shot of tequila, a big cup of Scotch on the rocks, and a second Long Island Iced Tea. Wirkus dragged me to the HOJO, put me in a cab, and waved me home.

One thing that shocked yet warmed my heart was when the inestimable Brian Kalish and I went to visit ol’ WWhazz when he lived down in the durty south. My computer science-knowin’, amenities-havin’, furniture-lovin’ self was unprepared to stay in a 1 bedroom apartment with less furniture than I have in 1 SQUARE INCH of my home. However, after a few days I came to really appreciate the simple life he lived in an empty apartment surrounded by small lizards.

So what I want out of this thread is for all the people who’ve met WWhazz to tell a funny or embarassing story about him so that he gets good and mad and enver comes back… I went to far on that one. But anyways, c’mon and post your stories everyone!

And take this to heart, Wirkuswhazz, you’re finally as old as Springer.

–whazz on and happy whazzday

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Grant Thornton had a holiday party this weekend. It was pretty great - in the city, right on the Embarcadero - and the whole crew came out. Eight of us started out the evening drinking some vodka & red bull and some Jack & coke in the hotel room. Before we even get to the party, we’ve got belligerent Zach on our hands. “Put me at a table with a partner! I want to sit with the partners!”

We arrive at the party and commence real drinking. More vodka & red bull, more Jack & coke, and now some wine. “Would you like red or white?” “Umm… both?” Enter: karaoke contest. Bust a Move was a hit. Sabrina did the backup vocals. Zach, you’ll have to tell this part a little better. When people were dying at the mic, Zach did a run-in to help them out. One of my friends came up to me and asked, “What does your husband do for a living? He is in the wrong profession. He could be a rapper.”

One of the managers then decides to have an after-party at his house. I didn’t see his wife much that night, but I guess maybe people disappear when their spouses go crazy. I was in a fighting mood, and I was trying to get one of the guys to punch me so I could punch him back, but he wouldn’t. My tiny friend Amelia punched me though, and so I punched her instead. I hope I didn’t hurt her too badly. Apparently after we left, Stephen and John were wrestling around and knocked a picture off the wall. Pretty fun. Pretty fun.

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i am now 25. suck on my balls, kids. my old, wrinkly balls.

holla

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The setting: Wirkuswhazz’s birthday party, which was held at the house where zachery, Rock Chalk, peterstiffly, and Uncle Big Show were living at the time.

I think my superb illustrationS speak for themselves as far as the rest of the story goes:

No sex that night to say the least. The End.

And just cause I can: here’s a picture of Jen in high school eating Taco Bell Rice n’ Beans with yours truly:

Boom. Bold Cal out.

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