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Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Paesono's - South Philadelphia, PA

Awwwww, here go!  I don't know if you jack holes have heard all the rumors floating around regarding me and sandwiches, but let me go ahead and set the record straight for you all:  THEY ARE THE SLAM TO MY JAM.  I swearz, I eat a god damn sandwich at least once a day, and ever since my parents successfully prayed the gay gene(vegetarianism) out of me, I sometimes even eat, I dunno, like, two a day.  Like a fucking lunatic.

So one day, my buddy Justin says to me, "Duuude.  Next time you're in Philly, I'm gonna take you to a place that makes the BEST fucking sandwich you will ever eat.  Like, seriously -- ball draining good.".

"Ball draining!?"  I exclaimed emphatically.  "Well that just doesn't even sound physically possible, Justin.  You aren't confusing sandwiches with hookers again, are you?  Cuz last time you told me I was gonna have a ball draining 'Ni├žoise salad', it cost me seventy-five dollars and a questionable blemish on my d-piece."

"Naw, yo, I'm for ril-doze.  Straight up sandwich style."

So it was off to the Italian Market in South Philly, to a charming little butt-jam factory called Paesano's:

So this is a fairly famous joint known for miraculously offering super gourmet style shit for poor person prices.  Seriously, it's hard to find menus that say shit such as "broccoli rabe" and "roasted fennel" with prices under $10.  That ass clown Bobby Flay even had his stupid ass Throw Down show here!

So according to the website, the owner was "tired of having to add 'gusto' to other sandwich shop offerings", which kind of but not really explains why there's wild shit such as crispy fried lasagna and sopressata wrapped hot dog sandwiches.  The website should really say the owner was "tired of having to add heart murmers to his hoagies after getting broiled(did I just come up with that, or is that something people already say to get super stoned?)."

So I decided to have the flag-ship sandwich, "The Paesano", which more or less means "red neck" in Italian.  So what do these nut jobs put on this slam jam?

House made beef brisket.  Horseradish mayo.  Roasted tomatoes.  Pepperincino.  Sharp provolone.  Fried egg.  ALL OF WHICH ARE AMERICAN DREAMS!  ALL OF WHICH ARE AMERICAN DREAMS!  ALL OF WHICH!  ARE AMERICAN!  DREAMS.

Did you know that the brisket is the part of the cow that's above the front shank and under the chuck?  Neither did I, until I just wikipedia'd that shit!  And why the fuck is the tenderloin, the most expensive cut of meat, so close to the butt hole!?!?

So.  The big question:  Was it the best sandwich I've ever had?  *Whew*  well, it was a CLOSE second.  And I'm talking pretty damn close.  The brisket was juicy and delicious, the bread was the perfect amount of crunchy, and all of the toppings were completely spot on.  It's definitely the kind of sandwich you eat once, and find yourself having special cravings for for the rest of your life.  But I'm sorry, the first place position is still firmly held by the "bewpie" sandwich, which is a sandwich of my face buried in between a pair of awesome bewpies.  Valiant effort, Paesano's.

I leave you know with an exchange that took place in the Hand van a couple of hours after our experience, that should firmly convince you of the caliber of excellence to which these sandwiches hold:

Me:  "Ohhhh myyaaaan, I want to poooop so byaaaad, but I cyaaaant.  WHY CYANT I POOOP!?!?"

B-Rock: "I knyooowww *whimper*.  It's like the syaandwich was so gyoood that you're styomach doesn't want to turn into poop because it was soooo gyoood and it wants to keep it in sandwich form foreeevoorrrr."

Paesano's is located at 1017 S 9th Street at the Italian Market in South Philadelphia, a few blocks and about 4 or 5 years from where I got in a huge fight with the girl I was dating at the time, and ended up having drunk make up sex on a shitty south philly couch, and falling asleep in a bewpie sandwich.  Bewpies.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Pies n' Thighs in Brooklyn, NY

So it was about time The Hand made another trip up north to one of our favorite stomping grounds, Brooklyn.  We started off Friday night in Philly to play at Danger and Danger and bro-down with our ambassador of Perpetual Light, Mr. Justin Wolf.  We've started making a tradition of ending the night at his pad and getting stoned and watching shitty shit on Netflix such as "The Haunting in Connecticut" and "The Crazies".  This time around, we decided to go the more educational route with a little gem of a show called "1000 Ways to Die".  Did you know that if you go to sleep dreaming of a little red demon dwarf choking you to death and you actually die, you're like, soul dies too?  FUCK!  We also watched "I'm Still Here", a movie about inexplicable penis scenes.

So the next morning, it was off too Brooklyn, the place where my parents bumped uglies(super gross, barfy, parent uglies) and birthed my irreverant ass.  And if you recall from the last time I blogged about Brooklyn, you learned that I like to participate in the local tradition of the "Slamming of the Pigs".  This time around, endurance was in my favor and instead of locking myself in a karaoke bar bathroom and passing out time, it was............

I didn't really know how to write out the motor-boating noise, but I think you turds got it.  I was actually gonna try and be tame that night, too, but once we found out that the local bands we're making us go last at our second show of the day at 1:30 am, we called up our dude Evan Williams and told him to fill us.  In our mouths and bellies.  Oh yeah, in between those shows I went to a place I've been meaning to visit for over half a year:  Pies n' Thighs.

This a joint that serves southern style food such as fried chicken, bbq, and of course, pies.  I've had a couple of friends work here as well, and pretty much the only thing you hear about this place is that it'll blow your dick off(which B-rock claims is something I say?).  Easily the most recommended item is the chicken buiscuit: a big fuck-off buttery buscuit with a piece of fried chicken smothered in honey butter and hot sauce.  I had the  "burnt end" baked beans as my side:

So if you read my description above than you must have already come to the conclusion that this sandwich is nothing less than... uhmm... dick blowing offingly good.  Cuz yeah, it was!  The only reason I'm at an impasse here is that you could really recreate this anywhere that sells fried chicken(although their chicken is naturally raised, which doesn't mean much to me if I'm eating fat-fuck food).  If you go to KFC and order all the same components, you'll have a sandwich that's just as good for a fraction of the cost(I know Texas Pete when I taste it).  If I decide I want a meal that's gonna make feel like I belong in fat person hell, I probably don't need to spend ten dollars on it.  I also have to give a thumbs down on those beans, unfortunately --  dem shits was way too ketchupy for my taste.    But you know what?  I bet you the next time I play at Bruar Falls, I'll eat there again, cuz no where on earth will you find a place serving that kind of cuisine with a line around the block consisting of nothing but gorgeous hipsters with neat tattoos referencing their favorite child-hood books.  Plus, I didn't try the fried pickles(reason enough to go back to a joint),  and that sandwich was nothing short of delicious, so I'll be damned if I I'm gonna take the J train to the D, walk under the BQE, and take Scary Hooker Ave for two blocks just to save a couple of bucks.

Pies and Thighs is located in Brooklyn, NY at 166 S. 4th and Driggs, like a few train stops away from Union Pool, where one night I was trying to put the vibes out for some hot trim, but the only action I got was an ass-pinch from some dude.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Es Muy Local! Penne Lane, "Mid-town" Charlottesville, VA

I woke up at around 7:30 this morning on Howard's futon and started walking home and wondered, "why the hell do I give a shit about whether or not it's a bad idea to start blogging about local restaurants?  If I feel like writing some shit, I should write some shit."  I also asked, "Why the FUCK are one my socks completely soaked in some liquid with a smell I can't identify?" and "How the hell did I have the gumption to take off my cut-off jean shorts before I passed out on the futon?"

So I threw on some Sunny G's, put my shoes on(sans socks), and started walking my stupid ass back to my crib.  There was a point when I was staring at my eyelids earlier, having realized that I was on Howard's futon and not my tempurpedic mattress, that I had a craving for a bakery/deli joint that's on the way from "mid-town"(the part of Charlottesville in between UVA and downtown that has a couple of restaurants and a handful of homeless dudes that want to borrow your cell phone) to Belmont(the Williamsburg of Charlottesville that has a bunch of assholes who want to borrow your smart phone):  Penne Lane.

How in god's name is this place still in business!?!?  It's off the beaten path, it has a shitty name, and they dumpster dive grocery store rotisserie chickens to make their chicken salad;  which means, yes, their chicken salad is fucking delicious (maybe they don't dumpster dive them, they could just go to Kroger at 11pm and buy them for pocket change like a lot of other poor fuckers, but I'm pretty damn sure that chicken salad has the unmistakable flavor of grocery store rotisserie chicken, and I didn't see any chickens there rotisserrieing).  This might be bull shit, but I heard somewhere that the owners are in some sort of witness protection thingy because of some Italian mob craziness and it's just a place for them to dump their boat-load of cash they got for snitching, but this is coming from a dude who first ate there because he was walking from the emergency room on the 5th of July after getting rufied.

Anyway, this place is family owned and operated -- the family consisting of the soft-spoken dad, the mom who seems to be self-medicating, and the son who can't figure out if he's black or not -- and they provide a very pleasant and inviting atmosphere.  The three or four people who came in as I was masticating(HAHAHA !  I'll never get over that word) all knew the family by name and had their "usuals".  I had the breakfast special, which is a breaky sandwich on freshly baked bread and a steaming hot coffee for a holy buttfucking shit $2.99.  And yeah, so I had the same meal the day before for free because I stole my roomates' food, but the difference of the coffee being hot as fuck, the bread not being government brand, and having melted provolone instead of mayonnaise and hot sauce was wayyyyy worth it.

They get negative points for labeling themselves a gourmet deli and not having sparking water("the crispy version of wet" -Colaymon), but get bonus points because a really hot girl about to get on a train to New York stopped by and the me inside my head asked her to sit with me and grow old together.  I also asked for a sausage egg and cheese, and got an egg and cheese, but didn't say anything because maybe self-medicating mom knew I shouldn't be such a fat ass all the time.

So yeah, I'm not sure how this place is still in business and I probably won't go out of my way to eat there, but I like it.

Penne Lane is located at 707 West Main Street in Charlottesville, Virginia, like half a mile from my crib, where a few months ago an air-flight attendant wearing a giant dream catcher and had a tongue ring made sex with me.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


Sorry it's taken so long to get on this action, but sxsw didn't really lend itself for enough free time to write one of these fuckers.  The protocol was essentially this:  wake up on a couch or floor, get some tacos, go play a show and watch a bunch of shows until two or three am, and make your way back to home base.  Oh, and you're doing all of this whilst getting completely shit-dicked the entire time.  You know the saying, "liquor before beer, have no fear.  Beer after liquor, you're gonna get sicker"?  Well I think the way sxsw was for me, it was more like, "sweet tea vodka before sparx, sparx, sparx, sweet tea vodka, tall boy lonestar, tall boy lonsestar, tall boy lonestar, 200ml Evan Williams, Red Stripe, Red Stripe, whoknowswhatelse, you're gonna be sitting on Satan's throne in Hell because he's off crying in an alley somewhere since you convinced his girlfriend to fuck you because you said you were in the Walkmen".

Well, kind of --  because although I did tell a girl I was in the Walkmen, I didn't get laid, and as far as I know, she wasn't dating Satan.  We just ended up talking about how I was [not really] just on Yo Gabba Gabba and then I unexpectedly ran into her again the next night and drunkenly convinced myself she was really into me.  Within that same twenty four hours I also drank whiskey with some of the Extraordinaires at a gay s&m bar that was pretty much a giant strobe light, and then weaseled our way into Emo's Jr. through the band entrance because I said we were playing in Owen Palette's backing band.

So when I wasn't being a big deceitful butt commando, I was eating some shit!  The only free thing I got to take advantage of was these veggie chips, courtesy of Sensible Portions, and was served at all the Brooklyn Vegan parties:

Were they any good?  Fucked if I know man, the table of free chips was set up directly next to the free Sparx table, where there were butter-face prostitutes pouring you as many of the free samples you wanted just so you might convince yourself to ever buy that shitty caffeine-less product ever again.  I will say that the new 9.0% lemonade flavor tasted good after about four of them though, and the mid-drifts made up for the lack of caffeine.  Oh yeah, the chips:  crunchy, salty, and bland as And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead's unfortunate set.

So the second best thing I ate in Austin was a "Texas-style" bratwurst that you could find being served at many street carts throughout the downtown area.  I chose to eat at one particular Best of the Wurst cart, though, because it consistently had a longer line than any of the other carts I came across due to the fact that the dude slinging the sausages was a Yokozuna sized mother fucker who was marinating everything on the grill with his dripping slam pig sweat.

I asked for the most popular item, which was a brat all the way:  sausage, grilled onions, sauerkraut, brown mustard, and curried ketchup(the most crucial of the condiments).  It was a beautiful mess of flavors with enough fat content to sustain a Somalian village for a month.  I think I'll go ahead and predict curried ketchup as being the next coolest thing for tattooed people to put everything on since Sriracha.  That or ranch mixed with a bunch of Sriracha.

And finally, the best thing I ate in Texas was of course, booking agent and label people asshole TACOS!  So one of the only major drawbacks to having a pretty much taco-only diet is that sometimes when you think you're going to drop a bus-load, you just end up having a 45 second long fart.  But other than that, eating tacos all the time fucking rules.  The best tacos I had in Texas was at El Chilito.

For breakfast, the taco that won it all was the Migas taco, which was egg, tortilla stips, tomato, onion, serrano, and cheese.  That dark, diarrhea looking stuff on there is actually the house salsa, which I'm pretty sure is a burnt pepper puree of sorts.

Up there is the overall winner of the Texas Taco Olympics, the Chicken Tinga Puffy Taco.  The tomato chipotle braised chicken was just fucking retarded, and deep frying the corn tortilla shell is realllly the only way corn tortillas should be eaten, am I right?  I kind of think corn tortillas taste like shit, otherwise.

Brothers Tacos in Houston was a close second, and Tacos del Fuego in Austin(across from the cigarrette shop that has a god damned tip jar on the counter) shop can go fuck itself for being completely rude and over priced.

El Chilito is located 2219 Manor Drive in Austin, Texas, about three of four block away from the bridge I should jump off of for being such a shitty, shitty pig.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Georgia -- Random Gas Station and Mama's Boy

As soon as we crossed into Georgia, we stopped at a gas station for our hourly snack time, where we came across something that almost made me faint while simultaneously pitch a trouser tent:

This is not, I repeat, NOT photo shopped.  Did it really take twenty years for Sun Chips to figure out that jalepeno cheddar jack is a much more natural flavor for a chip than fucking CINAMON!?   This flavor also kicks the shit out of Garden Salsa, which is the flavor that has become the fourth horseman of the Sun Chip apocalypse; that, and those new biodegradable bags that are louder than a swarm of locusts.

Also - all of you Jews, Muslims, vegans, and vegetarians might want to reconsider your chip choice, because according to Wikipedia, some flavors of Sun Chips have pork enzymes in them!  Crazy shit, right!?

Pictured above are the remnants of the boiled peanuts (aka “Goober Peas”) we got from the same gas station; remnants because I couldn’t photograph them in time before B-rock went all Operation Dumbo Drop on them.  Boiled peanuts are a traditional southern snack, much like that of chitlins, kracklins, and cousins.  Boiling peanuts usually takes at least four to seven hours, and are usually boiled in a bunch of salty shit, but in most of the southern gas stations I’ve encountered, “spicy Cajun style” is almost always an option, and actually the only flavor I've ever had.  Did you know that boiling peanuts with the shells-in releases four times as much anti-oxidant power as opposed to roasting them or eating them raw?  Neither did I, until I ate them, and then took a poop that was double fisting a bourbon and pbr, and had a lit cigarette in its poop mouth.

So we played a really bad ass farm to table fine dining restaurant in Athens that night, but unfortunately didn’t get to eat there because their mission statement doesn’t include helping touring musicians not be blinding beacons of filth.  So instead, you get to read about Momma’s Boy!

There’s sort of an unspoken franchise of brunch places like this in just about every small college town in the country.  It’s the type of place that serves all their beverages in mason jars, usually plays blue grass music, usually has a lot of vegetarian options, and there’s a  fairly good chance you saw one or more of the hung-over wait staff at the show the night before.  These places are pretty crucial to find on the road because they 1.)  usually have a way for you to get out of there for $7, and 2.)  are usually delicious.  I went for today’s special:  Pork chop with an egg over easy topped with raspberry hollandaise and served with cheese grits and a biscuit.

Now the description in itself is pretty drool worthy, right?  So was it awesome?  I mean, well, it wasn’t BAD or anything, but I guess maybe the best way to describe this dish is to compare it to the career of late 90’s alternative rock staple, Smash Mouth.  Like the band, this dish had about four successful singles, but not necessarily any singles I actually gave a shit about or would care to revisit.  Like the cheese grits: pretty good, but all they had to do was get the cheese on them while they were still piping hot so the cheese would actually melt!  Much like Smash Mouth, who could’ve had more than a decade’s plus staying power had they not been such fat ugly people!  Kudos for trying to mix it up with raspberry hollandaise, although it kind of fell flat, much like Smash Mouth’s cover of “I’m a Believer”.  Anyway, a career, and a dish, that I will pay my respects to for their ambition, but will stick with the Pigeon Hole in Cville and listen to Beck.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Nerth Kakilakee - Cooper's/The Milestone revisted

If being complete fat asses was having sex, then The Invisible Hand would be ballz deep.  I'd say about four out of every five meals have had something to do with BBQ, and getting up to get a glass in the morning is enough to knock the wind out of us.  B-rock compared our van to Aushwitz because of all the gas(the inhuman, ungodly, jump out of a moving car, gas).  To top it off, we're all sick as shit(Thomas isn't -- yet), and our Dr. -- Dr. Shitferbrains -- has prescribed slow smoked fat as part of our daily diet because of it's high content in vitamins F and Butt.  But hey, we're in North Carolina, it'd be a sin not to eat "Carolina Style" Q(We'll also have the chance to partake in Texas and Memphis styles as well).  Our buddy Rich over in Raleigh knew of the most old school, bad ass, Eastern Carolina Style joint, called Cooper's.

East Carolina style is "whole hog", meaning they barbecue the whole damn creature and use all sorts of not-so-shitty parts plus a bunch of wild shittier parts, then chop all that shit up and mix it together.  The sauce is thin and vinegar based, and whoever is cooking/serving it is usually some jolly old shit grinner.

For my sides, I went with collard greens and corn & buttuh beans, which are the same thing as lima beans and  have nutrients out the asshole:  fiber, magnesium, and a ton of iron, which wikipedia tells me is great for chicks on the rag.  Not pictured are the hushpuppies and pork rinds, whose only nutrients are ass fatteners.  Everything was spectacular, as it should be considering they've had over 70 years to learn how to not fuck up.  So if you're looking for the real thing, I would highly recommend Cooper's!


Remember when we went to The Milestone in Charlotte?  Well we played there again!  And wouldn't you know it, I found some more shitty bands names!  *Trumpets*

I'm thinking ska band?  Do they still make those?  All I know is that these 
dudes must be beating off the hoochie with a stick!  Or just beating off.

That does indeed say "Poontanglers".  I'd say Southern rock
that blurs the line between "no" and "yes" and "No answer?  Hm.
That's as a yes!"

Here's a good question:  where does one go
when you're riding the Murdercycle?  Holy geez
I hope it's Bone Fish Grill.  Cuz i love murdering Bang
Bang Shrimp.

Me too, buddy, me too.

Check out their hit single, "I feel really strongly about stuff"


Tuesday, March 8, 2011

A Letter to My Mom

Dear Mom,

Hope everything's well back home in Charlottesville!  The tour is off to a decent start!  So far all the kids have been very responsive to our music, and everyone has been very hospitable.  I woke up in Richmond, VA two mornings ago, and we were invited to what white people call a "brunch party".  Apparently, for white twenty somethings, it is common to invite a bunch of your other white friends over and make food together and talk about stuff -- it was quite a cultural experience!

There were wonderful pastries, grav lax, mimosas, and some sort of dish involving eggs, spinach and heavy cream.  I was too embarrassed to ask the girl who made it what it was because I couldn't remember her name, you know, because they all look the same to me.  Gertrude?  Maybe it was Lucy... or Betty.

For dinner, me and the boys went to a popular joint called Sticky Rice.  I had a green curry rice noodle dish with chicken and it was probably the driest noodle dish I've ever had in my life!  But then I ordered an extra side of curry sauce and it was quite enjoyable.  Unfortunately, as tasty as it was, it gave me some Biblically proportioned gas.  I let one rip in the bathroom at the house show we played, and I heard one very attractive girl exclaim, "Jesus!  It smells like bad sex in there!", whatever that means!

After the show, we got a hotel room in your favorite place in the country, Colonial Williamsburg!  Although we didn't have time to get cashew brittle or churn butter, we did get the opportunity to eat at a garbage dump of a place called Mama Steve's!  There was a was an unabridged history card of the place on our table, but I'll go ahead and give you the abridged version:

"In 1969, a couple of Greek people started a restaurant.  They died.  Then some other people ran it.  Then they died too.  Now this old bag runs it and our food is mediocre and overpriced, and we make our waitresses dress like 17th century slaves."

Pictured, is a perfect example what grits should NOT be:  flavorless, boring, and soupy.  If I wanted something so mushy and bland in my mouth, I'd kiss Uncle Menudo! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!

After that we drove to God's gift to ugly, Norfolk, VA.  Seriously, Mom, I know the Lord works in mysterious ways, and everything happens for a reason, but the landscape of this city is a cruel joke.  We decided that our arteries were getting a little out of hand, so we punished them with BBQ.

You should make sure to tell Billy that I ate at a BBQ place named after a Godzilla character!  Also make sure to tell him that the half chicken I ordered was microwaved to order!  Not to say it wasn't delicious, just a little difficult to eat.

Remember watching that movie, "Spirited Away", and there was that scene where the parents were eating and eating and eating, and they slowly turned into pigs?  The guy who ran this place looked EXACTLY like that, and I could barely understand a word he was saying -- just like you!  Just kidding!

We drove to Virginia Beach afterwards to play a nice little art space packed with fifteen year old androgynous hookers.  Finding a place to stay was a little difficult, but we ended up staying at a house with a chinchilla, a comatose cat named "General Tso", and a rabbit that was shaped like a basketball!  I came down with a bad headache, but our host gave me some medical-grade marijuana called, "AK-47", and put on the sci-fi classic, "Logan's Run".  It did the trick!

Tomorrow we leave Virginia and make our way down South where Adam Brock says the roads are paved with Wal-Marts.  Love you Mom!  Make sure Dad stops repeating himself all the time, and tell Billy to move out of the house already!


Sunday, March 6, 2011

Strange Matter - RVA

Ah, yes, Richmond, Virginia, "The Butt Hole of Virginia", "The Capital of the Confederacy".  There was a time in my life where I referred to Richmond as the "shitty version of Philadelphia", but that experience was based on a situation that involved me sleeping on the shittiest floor on the planet for a month because I was jump off a bridge depressed about a girl back in Charlottesville.  Oh that, and because all I ate was microwaved eggs and the Baja Bean didn't wanna hire me because I "sounded like a pussy".  But It's totally not shitty!  For one thing, in 2004, Philly was rated the 6th most dangerous city in the country, whereas Richmond was way safer at 9th!  It's also easier to fit in!  All you need to do is love the shit out of metal, where black, have tats & piercings, and eat at 7-11 at least TWICE a day.  Vice has lots of nice things to say about Richmond, and I'm preeeeeetty sure those dudes are never wrong.

One of the coolest parts about Richmond(aside from the fact you're pretty much walking around in is a bad ass restaurant/venue/arcade called Strange Matter.  This place is pretty crucial for touring bands, not only because the food is absolutely delicious, but because there's a full arcade in this jam piece! When you're on the road, sometimes you end up at the venue early and have to sit around doing nothing(unless you have an offensive fod blog)for hours, but this place doesn't "joy-stick penis"* you at all.  Motherfuckers' got Paperboy, Marvel Vs. Capcom, and even MOTHERFUCKING ALTERED BEAST.  If you're a male 20something, there's no way in hell you didn't waste hours of your life on that game.

Oh!  It looks like B-rock and Deaner are gonna squeeze in a round of Aliens Vs. Predator before a few rounds of Who's in B-rock's Mouth!  C'mon, you two, there are ladies here.  And by ladies, I mean the smooooking fine bartender.  I think she might have been flirting with me?  Or was it one of those "srsly dude, she's just being nice to you.  Now go home and beat off into a sock."  Either way, she was a sweetheart.  Great Service!  FOOD!

So my new year's resolution this year was too start eating meat again!  I figured since I work out like a fucking professional athlete that I'd start eating whatever the hell I want.  That, and I just look too cool when I smoke to quit. So although SM's menu has a kind-of focus on vegetarian and vegan stuff, I decided to go with a not so little dude called "The Pilgrim's Progress".  Turkey.  Stuffing.  Gravy.  Cranberry Sauce.  On a  god damn hoagie roll.  How the fuck do you think it tasted!?  If my taste buds had dicks, they would've all just gotten sucked off.  For my side, I went with fruit salad, and they get bonus points for having mango in that shit.  That should become a new standard.  Not pictured are the french fries, which are hand cut  8.9 BNM french fries.  Well done, dudes!

For dessert, I had a(by "a", I mean 5) "Hatchet Man(men)".  Which is vodka, and orange-pineapple Faygo(the Juggalo soda).  It was a Miracle!  Speaking of hatchets, the other day I heard some dude refer to a vagina as a "hatchet wound".  How rude is that shit?

So bands:  you get a free pitcher of PBR, half off on the food, unlimited Paperboy, and the sound there is pretty awesome.  Pair that with a bunch of girls who's hero is probably Sasha Grey, then I'd file this destination under "MUST".

Strange Matter is located at 929 West Grace St in the Fan discrict of Richmond, about an hour from Charlottesville, where one time this chick dragged me into one of my buddys' kitchen and molested the crap out of me, and then later I found out she had a boyfriend who worked at a diner in... Richmond.  dun Dun DUUUN!!!

*Joy-stick Penis:  v.  to grab a boner, and wiggle it around like a joy-stick, instead of like, you know, stroking    it.  You know, like you're supposed to.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

2011 Brayscar Movie Awards

Ah, yes, it's that time of year again, folks! That's right!  You guessed it!  It's that time of year where I award some of the movies I saw this year for the first time evar because i don't really have any food to write about!  2010 was a fantastic year for movies, and was probably the first year in a long time where I saw multiple movies in theaters more than once.  Good job, 2010, you were a good shit.

The Best Movie I Saw This Year:  Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

I totally saw this shit three times in the theaters and loved it every single time.  Awesome cast, awesome music, and I don't think two minutes went by without me laughing.  This movie is also one gigantic hipster blow job.  And im a blowjob loving hipster.  Oh, and you're gonna go ahead throw in like four or five of my girlfriends!?  fuck yeah!  love red head drummer chick.  would totally marry girl from that plane movie that looks like amanda from blue light grill.  for shorely crushing on hipster chick from Parks and Rec.  And yes, im totally in lesbians with Ramona Falls.  This movie also gave me an excuse to have some bonding time with my brother because he's a big nerd who does nothing but play video games and watch anime, which are both pretty crucial reference points for the movie.  the soundtrack is the only cd he's listened to for the past four months.   Also, every other line is an awesome quote -- just  a few examples:

"Your BF is about to get F'd in the B!"
"I don't think I can hit a girl.  They're soft."
"You punched me in the boob!  Prepare to die, obviously!" 

Congrats, SPVTW!  If you were a chick i was sitting next too, i do believe my legs would be crossed towards you.
The Second Best Movies I saw this Year:  Tie -- Black Swan, True Grit, and The Social Network

Black Swan: *ahem* MILA KUNIS GOES DOWN ON NATALIE FUCKING PORTMAN.  nuff said.  but srsly, it's one of those movies that you leave feelin tootallly fucked up(like Monster, Capote, or Love Liza).  Natalie, one of my fravorite girlfriends, should get the oscar.  after she gets my Brayscar.

True Grit:  here's an example of some of the bad ass dialog that happens throughout the whole movie:
Ned Pepper: What's your intention? Do you think one on four is a dogfall? 
Rooster Cogburn: I mean to kill you in one minute, Ned. Or see you hanged in Fort Smith at Judge Parker's convenience. Which'll it be? 
Ned Pepper: I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man. 
Rooster Cogburn: Fill your hands, you son of a bitch! 

fucking SICK.  also, the main chick in the movie is beautiful(although you wouldn't be able to tell from the movie), and is half filippino.  You know what that means?  It means she is fucking infallible, and that there's a good chance she's my cousin.

The Social Network:  Yeah, the movie about facebook is fucking awesome and worth seeing twice, so just shut the fuck up already.
Most Disturbing Movie Scenes of the Year:

1)  The crotch shot in Let The Right One In
Why do the europeans always somehow get away with child pornography??  12 year old vampire vaginas just aren't cool, man.  and while you're at it europe, why don't you go ahead give us back our genre.  you're not allowed to make better vampire films than us.

2)  The rape scene in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
WHAT THE FUCK, SWEDEN!?!?  first with the baby cunt, and now the most brutal rape scene of all time?  what are you trying to prove?  that you're a country that exists and i've thought about you more the past six months than i have my entire life?  mission accomplished.  but you know what, sweden?  you still don't have SHIT on Caligula.  nice try.

3)  The rape scene in The Secret In Their Eyes
LOL remember when the chick makes fun of the dude for having a tiny dick then he pulls out his shit, and it's actually friggin yuge, and then he talks about how he literally fucked that girl to death? HAHAHAHAHA *sigh* good times.
Biggest "Meh" Sandwich of the Year:
1)  The Town
why the fuck did this movie make it in so many top ten lists?  srsly, it's okay at best.  you know what?  fuck it.  this movie wasn't good.

2)  Inception
Okay, so i saw this twice in the theaters.  i liked it!  but then i found out the batman dude ripped the story from a fucking DUCKTAILS comic book.  fuck you, man!
Best Documentary:  The Parking Lot Movie
wait - so you're gonna make a movie about a place where I drink 40's, smoke cigarettes, and shoot the shit with Coleman?  God bless you, Megan Eckman.
My Girlfriend of the Year:  Emma Watson


Congrats to all of the winners!  You are my champions.  I still haven't seen 127 hours, the Fighter, Exit Through the Gift Shop, and Winter's Boner, though.  Here's some more pictures of some of my girlfriends:

"I heard you shaved your head for 'V for Vendetta'.  Did you shave your V for vagina?"