Sunday, April 27, 2008

Update!

Hot Dog Flavored Punishment has been updated to include even more Justin! Scroll down or click here to watch it again for the first time.

Riding Like Lance

Lately, when not drinking hot dog flavored water, I have been thoroughly dedicating my mind and body to training for my upcoming bike trip in late May. I don't party as much. I eat better. I even go on runs almost every single day.

And people are starting to notice.

"Hey, Mark, you're like, not that fat anymore."
It's seemingly innocuous comments like this one that are the product of a slough of nasty rumors that have been circulating in regards to my new-found health. As crazy as it sounds, people seem to think that I'm on something. They seem to think that there is no way this chiseled physique could have been achieved naturally over such a short period of time. Some of them have even asked me outright what I'm on.

What am I on?

I'm on my girlfriend's mountain bike that she got when she was fifteen, busting my ass, 15-20 minutes a day.

What are you on?

-Boosh Clown

::This post inspired by this commercial::

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Hot Dog Flavored Punishment

A week or so ago I posted an entry outlining my disdain for the band Limp Bizkit. I stated in the entry that if my thesis wasn't convincing enough I would drink a glass of hot dog flavored water. This, my friends, is the result of that poll.

Enjoy!

(WARNING: Listening to Limp Bizkit may cause nausea, heartburn, diarrhea, brain damage, and your parents to be really, really disappointed in you)

Thursday, April 24, 2008

!

For those of you who haven't noticed, today is the last day to vote in Blog is the New Blog's "Hot Dog Flavored Water" poll. As a reminder, if "Yes" wins, Boosh Clown will be obligated to boil a number of hot dogs and afterwards drink the water they have been boiled in. I'm sure it will lead to enlightenment on several levels.

One thing we're quite fond of doing here at Blog is the New Blog is reporting on old news. Today's old news is: Facebook chatting. Yesterday was the first time I actually noticed this feature when logging on to Facebook. I tried to chat with a few people, and then the whole process crashed and burned when I was abruptly cut off and the chat window was replaced by a large exclamation point. I was mildly distraught at first, but then I was just kind of stoked on the exclamation point. Exclamation points are awesome. They don't really denote anything specific; they just denote excitement. They can often denote danger or something that has gone wrong, as well. Instead of caution tape around a crime scene, I think they should just put up a huge sign with an exclamation point. The result would still basically be the same ("What the hell happened here?"). If a bathroom stall is out of order, they shouldn't put an "Out of Order" sign on the door, they should put up a piece of paper with an exclamation point. It would be way more fun that way. The prudent person would still probably assume it was out of order, and the adventurous person might just assume that something exciting would happen if he/she used it1. In my mind its a win-win situation that would add to the spice of life.

In other news, Boosh Clown, who has spent the last three or so months of his life living in Victoria, Canada, will be coming home to Bainbridge Island/Seattle next Wednesday. If you would like to see me (and I would love to see you), you can most likely find me at my parent's house on Bainbridge, or at the Spizzy, everyone's new favorite place to party, where I shall be till May 21st, whereupon I will fly to Ohio and embark on the bike trip I have talked about in recent entries. The Spizzy, or Bunkingham palace, is home to my friends Andy, Barry, and Tam. I have probably only spent a total of 20 hours in the Spizzy, but I can tell deep down that it is one of my favorite places on Earth, and apparently they just got a new pool table, so shit son, what's not to like? Come hold hands and rejoice with Andy, Barry, Tam, and Boosh Clown this May at the Spizzy, err'one's new fave place to "whoop whoop, holler at your yee."

-Boosh Clown

1This, of course, assuming that he/she finds clogged toilets "exciting."

Something That Needs to be Brought to Attention Immediately

I have been living in Canada too long. Now, when I see words like "flavor," "honor," and "color," it almost seems weird for them not to have a "u" like in the Canadian spelling (flavour, honour, colour).
What is happening to me? Loonie! Toonie! Aghhhhhhhh!

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

"I'm not afraid to compete. It's just the opposite. Don't you see that? I'm afraid I will compete- that's what scares me. That's why I quit the Theater Department. Just because I'm so horribly conditioned to accept everybody else's values, and just because I like applause and people to rave about me, doesn't make it right. I'm ashamed of it. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody. I'm sick of myself and everybody else that wants to make some kind of a splash."
- Franny



Tomorrow on Blog is the New Blog: Hot dog flavored water! (probably)

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Life, Death, and Hockey

Lots to talk about here on Boosh Clown today. The winds of change are upon us. Spring is in the air! Bees are leaving the comfort of their frozen burrows to take flight and propagate the many flowers that blanket our beautiful planet. Robins are out a-chirping, vying neck and neck with the larks and the thrushes to have their voices heard in the wonderful cacophony of sounds and smells that this special time of year always seems to hold in store.

But let's get down to business.

First off, I am getting extremely excited about the bike trip I plan on taking in late May. One of the things I'm most excited about is my diet. Since I can't cook, I will be forced to either eat fresh foods or already prepared foods. This is extremely exciting, as it is exactly what I did for the majority of my college career (minus the fresh foods). Finally, an excuse to eat Hot Pockets, TV dinners, and corn dogs without having to feel bad about it1! People can say to me, "Oh man, that must have been awful, having to eat all those pre-packaged foods and pizza pockets you warm up in the microwave," and I can be like, "Yea, totally, it was brutal. I totally would've cooked more often if I had had the chance, but I guess that's just one of the things that comes with being on the road." And then I can rush home gleefully and toss a Tombstone pepperoni pizza in the oven.

I really won't be that unhealthy, though, I think. My diet will basically consist of the following:

Breakfast
1 Power Bar (Apple Cinnamon or Peanut Butter or whatever strikes my fancy)
1 Apple Juice
1 Banana

Healthy so far, right? Yeah, I thought so.

Lunch
Hot Pockets, Chunky soup, deli food, TV dinner, fast food, pre-made sandwich
1 Juice or Gatorade
1 Orange or Apple

Dinner
Basically the same as lunch

Snacks
1 Can of V8 upon terminus of day's riding
Trail Mix, Shot Bloks (These things are awesome. Check out what it says about the Piña Colada variety. ¿Cómo se dice, "fate?"), Fresh Vegetables, Snickers, and assorted goodies between breakfast and lunch, and between lunch and dinner

Not terrible, right? I mean, it could be quite a bit worse. The question is, will I actually stick to a semblance of this diet, or will I end up pulling up to drive-thrus, panniers and all, asking for quarter-pounders and Big Macs? Time will tell, I suppose.

1Not that I ever felt bad about it. I felt amazing.

In other news, Zucks and the boys over at Facebook have recently added the "People You May Know" feature, which is actually probably old news to you by now. As with all Facebook additions these days I am somewhat indifferent. The last time Facebook actually caused a major upheaval in my life was when they added the "Status" option (this was a huge fucking deal at the time). I don't know what it was but I was fairly outraged and convinced that Facebook was turning into MySpace and thus completely refused to take part in the whole "Status" thing at first, but then slowly got used to the idea and now, as we have all seen, update my status approximately every 45 seconds. So now: "People You May Know," "People You Wish You Knew," "People Your Parents Want You to Know"--what's the difference?

In honor of my friend Kevin from Arizona State I have turned the comments option back on on Boosh Clown, so please comment as much as possible. I turned them off because I read on some site about increasing your "blog traffic" that it can be good to turn comments off because people get turned off when they see blog after blog with "0 Comments." This issue is problematic for two reasons: 1) What the fuck was I doing on an "Increase your blog traffic" website? and 2) Do I really want to attract the type of reader who would be "turned off" by the fact that there are not a lot of comments on my blog? Do I really want anyone to read this? Why are you reading this?

I think I might be going insane.

Anyway, the last thing I will briefly mention is that the Stanley Cup Playoffs are well under way, something all too noticeable up here in The Great White North. Today I went to buy eggs from the Old Man in Cook St. Village and he started talking to me about the games yesterday and how the Flames game should be a "dandy" tonight and the dude that apparently scored two awesome goals yesterday. I did a lot of nodding and smiling and prayed to Brahma that he wouldn't ask me anything that required specific knowledge of the sport, and thankfully he didn't. So, anyway, I totally forgot why I am even mentioning this now but I guess I just thought it might be an endearing example of the cultural differences that exist between two lands separated by such a short distance. Go Flames! (?).

That's all for today, folks. Feel free to contact us here at Blog is the New Blog with any questions you may have. Also, don't forget to vote on the "Should Boosh Clown Have to Drink the Hot Dog Flavored Water" poll at the top left. Only three days remain!

-Boosh Clown

Song of the Day: "Hands Around My Throat" by Death in Vegas

Monday, April 21, 2008

Suffrage

Sooooo, right now "No" is winning in the whole, "Should Boosh Clown have to drink the hot dog flavored water pole." Seeing as no one ever votes in my polls (though I'm thankful for the few who do), I have decided to add an extra incentive: If "Yes" wins, I will video myself pouring the hot dog flavored water into a glass and consuming it. It will be disgusting, and if you vote now, you will have played a part in it.

So there you have it. All you have to do is vote. It will take three votes from now on for me to have to drink hot dog flavored water. This is so easy. Please do it, so that I don't get depressed and decide to drink hot dog flavored water anyway.

I have to pee.

-Boosh Clown

Sunday, April 20, 2008

I am so chuffed that Fred Durst is no longer the header photo here at Blog is the New Blog. It was definitely deterring new visitors. I am even going to delete the picture from computer altogether because I am convinced that having a picture of Fred Durst on my hard drive can only bring bad luck. I would not want my cute little white MacBook to be involved in some kind of sordid Britney Spears sex scandal. Oops, I did it again. I played with your heart. Got lost in the game. The "let's not lose our minds" game, Britney?

Anyway, as some of you might know, I used to be completely obsessed with skateboarding, and probably still would be if not for my right achilles tendon. One of my favorite skate shoes and skateboarding teams was always éS , and the following commercial showcases the éS team at their finest, right around when their acclaimed skateboarding video "Menikmati" came out: Arto was ridiculously strapping (minute 0:17), Rodrigo was a punk kid from Brazil who could barely speak English, and Eric Koston was just starting his reign as the Emperor of Southern California (a title conferred by me). The song is totally rad too. It's "Flat Beat," by Mr. Oizo. You probably recognize the little yellow stuffed animal from the music video.

Hope everyone's spring is warmer than it is up here in Victoria!

-Boosh Clown

P.S. Special shout-out to my sister Lynn and her friend Erin, who are both running the 112th Annual Boston Marathon tomorrow. This is no small feat folks. 26.2 miles. Think about that the next time you're running after the bus, wheezing and about to cough up blood.
Good luck, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Hate is a Strong Word

"I did it all for the nookie (come on), the nookie (come on)
so you can take that cookie, and stick it up your (yeah)
stick it up your (yeah), stick it up your (yeah)
stick it up your..."
-Limp Bizkit, circa 1999

One of the things I most like about music is hating it; after all, the only thing that's about as satisfying as a really awesome band is a really terrible one. Therefore, when the subject of "hated bands" comes up, I have a few "go-to's" that I always mention. These are bands that many people like, thus making me feel like I have to be more vocal about the fact that I hate them. For instance, I always mention the band 3 Doors Down and their 2000 release "Kryptonite" that almost caused me to have a nervous breakdown. I usually bring up the band Creed, citing lead singer Scott Stapp as a percoset-addicted egomaniac who, between stints in rehab, ruined the lives of everyone he came in contact with. Lastly, I bring up Linkin Park; I always bring up Linkin Park. This is because a ton of people like Linkin Park, whereas I think they are one of the worst bands in history. When "Hybrid Theory" came out in 2000 my ears bled for a week straight.

But there is one band I almost never mention, mostly because I assume that everyone else already hates them; One band I have pushed so far into the annals of loathing that I rarely even pause to acknowledge their existence, except sometimes to shudder discreetly or cross myself in public.

That band is Limp Bizkit.

I have hated Limp Bizkit for a long time--a really long time--but I don't know if I've ever stopped to reflect on exactly why. The purpose of today's blog is to figure out that reason. After all, I can't just say that their music is "bad," or that Fred Durst is the spawn of lucifer--I must figure out the deeper reason. What will happen if I can't? I will punish myself in a way inspired by the title of the band's third album: I will drink a glass of hot dog flavored water.

We'll start by examining Fred Durst, Limp Bizkit's controversy-marred front man. Durst was born William Frederick Durst in Gastonia, North Carolina, where he spent the first two years of his life living in the top of a church with his mother where they subsisted solely on baby food (Wikipedia aka probably false). After a brief stint in the Navy, Durst moved to Jacksonville, Florida, where he became a tattoo artist and, spurred on by his love for rapping and break dancing, eventually formed the band Limp Bizkit.
In 1995 Limp Bizkit burst onto the TRL scene when they covered George Michael's 1980's hit, "Faith." Now, truth be told, I liked this song when it came out. I liked a few Limp Bizkit songs when they came out. To be fair, though, "Faith" came out in 1997, when I was a 14 years-old. When I was 14 years-old, I couldn't tell my ass from my elbows, so we're going to let this one slide.
Anyway, Limp Bizkit became a veritable steamroller of raucous hits in the late 90's after the release of their hilariously titled album, "Three Dollar Bill, Y'all." In 1999 they released their second album, "Significant Other," which contained such hits as "Nookie," "Break Stuff," and "N 2 Gether Now." Once again I must mention here that I also sort of liked "Nookie" when it came out, and definitely liked "N 2 Gether Now," due to the fact that Method Man is a gangster. Therefore, we will excuse the fact that I liked "N 2 Gether Now," as my vision was somewhat clouded by Method Man's soothing, grainy voice. As for liking "Nookie," I still consider that inexcusable, despite the fact that I was only 16 when it came out, it was extremely catchy, and everyone I knew in the world loved it. I still should have known better. As punishment, I will begin to boil the hot dogs that may or may not serve as the main ingredient in the hot dog flavored water punishment scenario mentioned earlier.

In 2000 Limp Bizkit released their third and arguably last notable album, "Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water," known for its hits, "My Generation," and "Rollin'." If you haven't already noticed, 2000 was a superbly awful yet groundbreaking year for music. Limp Bizkit was center stage with "Nu Metal," and Linkin Park released their massive hit, "Hybrid Theory," the first album that promoted "rap metal fusion," arguably the worst music genre ever conceived. In 2000 I was a sophomore at Bainbridge High School. I had recently gotten my driver's license, and my days consisted of driving a '91 Honda Civic, wakeboarding, jumping on the trampoline, eating otter pops, and fantasizing about girls. This was a critical time for me music-wise because there were basically two paths I could follow: I could fully embrace bands like Limp Bizkit and Linkin Park, thus giving myself over to a life of servitude to the devil, or I could basically reject modern music altogether.
Because of my brother, I was very in to classic rock at the time. While I did listen to some new bands, the dial on my radio was primarily tuned to stations that championed groups like Led Zeppelin, Creedence, and Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. In this case, the winds of fortune were upon me. Thanks to my brothers influence, I ended up rejecting bands like Limp Bizkit, Linkin Park, Creed, and 3 Doors Down, and continued to focus on classic rock until I entered college at Arizona State University in 2002. By then, Fred Durst and Limp Bizkit hardly registered on my radar; I knew that I didn't like them, and if asked probably would've described Durst as "loathsome," but I was too busy occupying myself with the things college freshmen do to take too much notice of their existence.

After the release of "Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water" in 2000, Fred Durst and Limp Bizkit struck a course that would eventually lead them towards the relatively obscure position in the music world that they hold today. Durst became marred by controversy after making fun of just about every other band that enjoyed relative popularity at the time, even sparking one member of the band Offspring to wear anti-Fred Durst shirts. He was also involved in a brief scandal after claiming to have slept with Britney Spears while helping out on her 2003 release, "In the Zone," allegedly describing her body parts and their encounter in detail when he appeared on the Howard Stern Show. The only bright spot in this sea of controversy for Limp Bizkit would be prove to be their 2003 release, "Behind Blue Eyes," in which they covered the popular song of the same name by The Who.

As I look back on it, the release of "Behind Blue Eyes" was what really cemented my hate for Limp Bizkit and Fred Durst. When I first heard it I was in the company of some of my younger skateboarder friends, and I remember being horrified by the prospect that these kids could grow up thinking that the song they had just listened to was a Fred Durst original. Indeed, that is exactly what happened with most of America's youth. Durst covered The Who, and kids thought it was great. Never mind the fact that "Behind Blue Eyes" could be sung by a basset hound or Will Ferrel and still sound amazing, kids thought that this was Limp Bizkit material. They had never heard of The Who, and they didn't care. All they knew was that "Behind Blue Eyes" was more melodic, catchier, and deeper than anything that Fred Durst had ever done.

And I was livid.

With "Behind Blue Eyes," the Britney scandal, and Fred Durst continuing to make an an ass out of himself to the general public, my hate for Limp Bizkit was raging full force. However, since at that time they were relatively unpopular save "Behind Blue Eyes", I wasn't exposed to them much and my anger started to fizzle, aided by the fact that it was redirected towards other bands I despised at the time like Maroon 5, Jason Mraz and John Mayer. In fact, Durst and Limp Bizkit continued to remain out of sight and out of mind up until the writing of this blog, save the occasional MTV or E! reference to Durst for stupid things he has done, like when he purposely hit two people with his car in 2007.

Limp Bizkit started their career with a cover, and ended it with a cover. Their most famous song's lyrics are centered around the word "nookie." Their front man, Fred Durst, has been involved in countless scandals after needlessly bashing other bands. He went on Howard Stern and told people about alleged sexual relations between him and Britney Spears. And finally, in 2007, he purposely hit two people with his car. All of this is terrible--some might say abominable--behavior in a human being, but almost understandable and excusable coming from a rock personality like Durst. Covering "Behind Blue Eyes," however, is not. Limp Bizkit never should have done that. Fred Durst never should have done that. He never should have stared into the camera for his music video and blasphemized the beautiful lyrics of a classic song. It was inexcusable, and unforgivable. He briefly stole the hearts and minds of America's youth and held them in his scaly grip for a full 4 min 32 seconds before finally giving them back.

"No one knows what it's like/to be hated," sang Fred Durst.

That might be true, Fred. But, hey, thanks to Limp Bizkit, at least plenty of people know what it's like to hate.

Monday, April 14, 2008

The Passion of the Boosh Clown

Lately, between light carpentry, stretching my achilles, and making hot Italian sausage paninis for disgruntled customers, I have stolen away to think long and hard about what in the hell I am going to do with my life this summer (see poll at left; bt dub thanks for the feeback! You guys are tremendous). At first I thought I would work in Seattle at another dead-end job: an on board attendant aboard the Victoria Clipper (see: hating myself) or once again driving the University Volkswagen/Audi shuttle (see: hating myself, hating others).

But now I have a better idea: I'm going to take a bike ride.

Yes, ladies and boyz, the vacation that is Boosh Clown's life will finally be reborn. Things have gotten too stressful here in Victoria: low wages, unappreciative customers, having to wake up at 9am some mornings--I'm fed up, damnit.
In late May, just after Memorial Day, I will embark on a 900 or so mile bike ride from my grandma's house in New Bremen, Ohio, to a sleepy little industrial hamlet located in the Canadian Province of Quebec called Trois Rivieres (just between Montreal and Quebec City). I will have approximately 15 days to complete this endeavor, which means I will have to average about 60 miles a day.
Amongst other obstacles (see: mild obesity), this trip, though still in its fledgling stages, is turning out to be a logistics nightmare (see: I'm broke). I must buy everything for the trip--bike, helmet, shoes, lycra shorts, sweet short-sleeved American flag bicycle jersey--due to the fact that I currently own nothing. Also, as I am not the most avid of bikers, I will have a shit-load of training to do, compounded by the fact that God has blessed me with an achilles tendon He got at Value Village.

Another important factor is that I will be doing this trip alone, something I already know is going to cause my parents a considerable amount of disquiet. While this is not a completely invalid concern (I'm sure there are a number of people [probably named "Bubba," or "Earl"] in rural Ohio and Ontario that drink gross amounts of Jack Daniels, recklessly drive Ford F150's, and think cycling is for "queers") I cannot and will not allow a lack of faith in humanity to keep me from doing this trip.
So that, my friends, is the rudimentary plan. I will be cycling from Ohio to Quebec, meeting up with my girlfriend, and then heading down to New York and Boston for an East Coast extravaganza. Afterwards, my girlfriend and I will say our tearful goodbyes, whereupon I shall head to a little town called Cambridge, MA, and install myself at a fairly well-known university called "Harvard," where I will spend the next four years of my life voraciously studying to obtain a law degree and subsequently one of the most feared litigators on the Easter seaboard. Then, at the age of 42, a minor nervous breakdown will culminate in me having to pack up my Earthly possessions and move to Zimbabwe, where I will then pursue a career as a full-time elephant hunter. At the age of 75 I will be reunited with my girlfriend whilst vacationing in Botswana, who will at the time be working part-time for an organization aimed at keeping peace between the Bangwato and Bakweng tribes through a radical technique that involves learning how to successfully muzzle and ride hippopotamuses. "Hippos for Peace," they will aptly be called. At the age of 116 I will finally die, but not before waking up from a 41 year coma brought on by an accident involving a leisurely ride-turned-catastrophe of one of the aforementioned hippos.

I'm sorry, I got distracted.

Anyway, I do plan on seeing this trip through to fruition. Below is a map of the approximate route I be plan to take, though in my case I will skirt Detroit (I've never been too fond of homicide) by taking a ferry across Lake Eerie from Sandusky, Ohio, into Ontario.

Good day, gentleman. And until that day comes, keep your ear to the grindstone.

-Boosh Clown

Special shout-out to friend and former roommate Tam, who recently biked across the United States, something far more ambitious than what I plan to undertake. To read about his trip, click here.

The Route:

View Larger Map

Friday, April 11, 2008

How Many Five Year-Olds Could You Take in a Fight?

Ughhh, I don't even want to try to think about anything funny or clever to say about this website, especially since Chuck Klosterman already did it. I guess I do like their homepage's graphic, though (the dude poised in fighting stance waiting to take on an anonymous squadron of munchkins).
Anyway, click below to find out how many five year-olds you could take in a fight. Apparently I could take 23.
23

Extra! Extra! Read All About it!

After a grueling week of corporate buyouts, big money scandals, rigged voting booths, and multiple recounts, the results for Boosh Clown's "Is This Not the Raddest Fucking Website You've Ever Been to?" 2008 Poll extravaganza gala event extraordinaire are finally in!
The winner? "I hate this website."
With six votes.

I want to take this opportunity to thank all of the 18 faithful readers who voted. We couldn't do it without you guys here at Boosh Clown. You are the butter to our bread, the parmesan to our spaghetti, the tzaziki to our pita. I think you get the idea.

Special Note: Stay tuned for Boosh Clown's next poll, "What the hell should Mark do this summer?" sponsored by Ivar's Clam Chowder and the Obesity Control Center.

-Boosh Clown

Like of the Day: Orthotics

Dislike of the Day: Ballyhoo

Song of the Day: "Park Life" by Blur

Also, special shout-out to Neil Cameron: Neil, please send me the mo'effin' pictures from our trip. I am getting anxious.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Brokeback to the Future

I love this video. I know, I know, you've all seen it before--but I still had to put it up. When I first saw it I downloaded the song playing in the background ("The Wings" by Gustavo Santaolalla) and tried to hold hands with all my guy friends for like a week. I'm putting it up now just in case anyone hasn't seen it, and so the rest of you can all feel the magic one more time.

-Boosh Clown

p.s. It's nice to see the poll is doing well. "I hate this website" is officially in the lead with four votes. I don't know which is more upsetting: the fact that "I hate this website" is in the lead, or the fact that 12 people total have voted in five days.



Like of the Day: Cranberry Sauce

Dislike of the Day: Mushroom Soup

Quote of the Day: "Twelve's not so bad." - Carrera Junck

Song of the Day: "Forever Young" as performed by Youth Group

Monday, April 7, 2008

Party Like It's Boosh Clown

Everyone wants to look cool at parties. Whether it's a house party with some friends, a party at some random guys apartment, or a holiday soirée, you want people to think that you know your shit. You want the dudes to be like, "Hey, I talked to that (insert name here) guy. He seemed pretty cool"; and you want the girls to be like, "Oh my god, did you see (insert name here)? He's like, crazy. I'd totally make out with him1."
For this reason the folks here at Boosh Clown have devised the "Top 5 Party Strategies": tactics guaranteed to help you secure your position in the hearts and minds of fellow revelers as "one rad motherfucker."

1This, of course, if you're a guy. If you're a girl you want the guys to be like, "Did you see (insert name here)? She's so fucking hot."

At this point you are probably saying to yourself: "Wait a minute. Why would I take party advice from Mark? I've been at parties with him before, and he's actually kind of a douche bag. He listens to Aqua."
First of all: come on guys, douche bag? Lighten up. Second of all: Being cool ain't easy. Like Michael Cera says in "Juno," you actually have to try "really (fucking) hard." The guidelines that I have listed here require constant implication and may not be deviated from in any circumstance in order to be effective, and I will be the first to admit that this is something I have not taken the care to do throughout the course of my mirth and merriment career. However, I pray to Jehovah that you, faithful reader, will have the fortitude and wherewithal to implement these strategies: I pray that you will be the better partier.
So here they are, guys.
And guys? Good luck...


1) The "Bump and Run" Tactic

What you'll need:
3 to 4 of your best buddies
3 to 4 tall-cans Busch brand beer

What it is:
The Bump and Run Tactic is an all inclusive party strategy that takes about 15 minutes from beginning to end to implement. It is perfect when you just want to make an appearance, have cooler shit to do, or really need to finish a paper that's due the next day but still want people to realize that you're capable of ripping it pretty damn hard.

What to do:
Round up 3 to 4 of your best buddies and the tall cans of Busch brand beer at a designated meeting place. Make sure that everyone is dressed in retro attire. Gold chains are encouraged and large sunglasses are a must. At least one person in your group should be wearing untied Nike high tops. Now, with tall cans in hand, make your way to the party. Here comes the important part: enter the party at full velocity. Everyone in your group of 3 to 4 best buddies must be screaming. Long-haired wigs will greatly help in this endeavor. Make your way to the kitchen of the house or apartment where the party is being held; The kitchen is always a hot spot for activity, as it is normally where the beverages are kept. Approach the sink and, as a group (but not overly choreographed), shotgun your beers. At the end of the shotgun crush the cans and hurl them into the sink. Throughout the course of this DO NOT make eye contact with anyone but your 3 to 4 best buddies. If anyone at the party attempts to talk to you DO NOT respond; Rather, roll your eyes and shake your head back and forth, simultaneously sticking out your tongue and waving it about. Resume screaming and jumping up and down after tall cans have been shotgunned. When you make your exit, shut the door loudly to leave everyone in the party stunned and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
Now relax: you have the rest of the night free.

2) The "I Just Came Here to Dance" Tactic

What you'll need:
0.12 BAC or higher
Dancing shoes

What it is:
The "I Just Came Here to Dance" tactic, or ICHD, is perfect for those nights when you don't feel extremely social but still want everyone to realize you came to party.

What to do:
ICHD requires you to be really fucking good at dancing or, if you are not a proficient dancer, really fucking drunk. If you fit into the latter category I recommend "Sporties" (drink the first 16 oz. of a forty and replace the rest with a can of Sparks. Repeat.) and a slightly modified version of the Penguin.
At the first song with a thumping bassline, make your way to the exact center of the dance floor. As in the "Bump and Run" tactic, DO NOT make eye contact with anyone (once again, sun glasses will be key). Simply stand relatively still, slowly moving your hips as your body eases into the music. Gradually begin to move more rapidly and expressively as you make a spot for yourself on the dance floor.

Key Part #1: Do not dance with ANYONE. Even if the hottest member of the opposite sex you could possibly envision sidles up to you, DO NOT dance with her/him. Remember: you are here to dance; and you don't give a fuck.
Key Part #2: Periodically throughout the night (usually every 7 to 8 songs), go absolutely nuts. Shake your hands in front of your body and move your head wildly about. This move will be especially easier to do if it coincides with the playing of a song you particularly like.

The end of the night in ICHD is fairly flexible. You can either leave fashionably early, or stay till the wee hours. Whenever your exit, just make sure that it is abrupt. Wait for a song to come on that you are not particularly fond of (anything by "Nelly" usually works), frown, put your hands on your hips, and storm out the room. The rest of the people on the dance floor will be left to wonder whether or not they are complete fools, and as you step out into the refreshing night air to leave the muffled bass of the party behind, you can can reassuringly say to yourself, "Heck yes, they are."

3) The Drinking Game Technician

What you'll need:
4-5 low quality beers
A wealth of drinking game knowledge
Magnificent Hand-Eye Coordination
Years of Practice

What it is:
The "Drinking Game Technician" tactic, provided you possess a fair amount of manual dexterity, allows you to quickly and easily become the life of the party. It is great for those nights when you feel sociable but don't feel like dancing. It is also great for those of you with a keenly competitive spirit.

What to do:
Though I said before that the "Drinking Game Technician" (or DGT) tactic "allows" you to become the life of the party, it actually requires it, so make sure you are feeling sufficiently outgoing and energetic before trying it out.
To start, get involved in a drinking game you are comfortable with (though ideally you should be comfortable with all of them). After the game starts--and regardless of whether or not you are winning or losing--commence drinking. It is essential that the DGT have at least 3 but no more than 6 beers in himself at all times while playing. This level of intoxication is referred to by those in the drinking game world as "the zone." The zone allows for maximum levels of confidence with minimal loss in hand-eye coordination sector. While in the zone you will notice that ping-pong balls make their way into open keg cups as if on a string; the cup in "flip cup" will seem as though specially weighted to ensure a final upside-down resting position. In short, the zone allows you to "get 'er (her) done."
As success in the given drinking game increases, so should the decibel level of your voice and the amount of high-fiving. For every game of flip cup successfully won or every beer pong ball successfully sunk, raise your voice's volume by at least 5 decibels and periodically high five those around you.
Key Part: For maximum levels of radness, invent a special and ridiculous form of high five, different from the standard, "two-hands-above-the-head" approach. Try inserting a special dance move before the high five or adding a chest butt.
After all, nothing says "uncool" like a stale high five.

4) The "Businessman" Tactic
Wing-tipped dress shoes
3-4 bottled beers; imported
An understanding of Keynesian Economics

What it is:
The "Businessman" tactic allows you to assert your intellectual dominance over those around you (thus attracting ladies like a moth to flame). It is recommended for quieter parties and "get-togethers." The "Businessman" tactic should only be attempted by those who know what the hell they are talking about.
I have never attempted it.

What to do:
The "Businessman" will enter the party surreptitiously through the back door. He's had a long day at work at his new internship, so he's not looking to create a big scene. The businessman's first step is to find a target conversation group. His goal is to find a group of people who are smart, but not too smart. Ideally, this group should be discussing a politics or business-related theme. After an appropriate break in conversation (usually a punch line followed by a hearty guffaw), the businessman steps up to the conversation and, with a stolid look on his face, directly contradicts whatever the person uttering the punch line has just said. As the the group stares at the businessman wondering, "Who is this asshole?" he finishes his first beer with a long, pompous swig.
(Readers note: the businessman's imported beer of choice is Asian [usually Singha or Tsingtao, depending on the strength of the Yen]. If not it will invariably be some kind of rare pilsner from the Czech Republic [the businessman studied in Prague his junior year]).
At this point the businessman will launch into a lengthy discourse, not necessarily related to the topic at hand. He will talk about OPEC and the Shah of Iran and how Jimmy Carter was the last truly benevolent President. He will contradict himself at least 4 times and make several completely nonsensical analogies, but the rest of the group will still be too stunned to notice (it is important that the businessman wear a flashy tie. Flashy ties distract).
The businessman can either call it a night here, disappearing like questionably allocated Saudi Arabian funds, or he can continue to a few more groups until his Singha is gone and he has embarrassed a few more people.
The businessman has no ruth. He is ruthless.

5) The "Wile Out" Tactic

What you'll need:
12-pack Pabst Blue Ribbon beer
1 Pack Cigarettes
R. Kelly - "Ignition (Remix)"

What it is:
Ladies and Boyz, put on your gnar boots, cuz it's time time to "Wile Out!" The "Wile Out," or WO!, is the ultimate party technique. When executed correctly, it is guaranteed to provide you with some of the most fun, raucous times you have ever had.
(Reader's Note: When first implemented, WO! may feel a bit like a scavenger hunt, but with time it will become second nature. Besides, who doesn't like scavenger hunts? Especially fucking rad scavenger hunts.)

What to do:
WO! begins with the lacing up of your best pair of gnar boots and some fresh attire. Brightly colored tall tees or t-shirts containing graphics of your favorite rapper are highly recommended. Once dressed, crack open a few Olympia brand beers and commence drinking. At this point "Ignition (Remix)" by R. Kelly should be playing at moderate to high volume, and if the elements are just right, a semi-impromptu dance party should ensue. (Readers note: If R. Kelly doesn't work put on Elephant Man's version of the "Clappas Riddim")
After 10-15 minutes of dancing, head to the porch for more beers and a few cigarettes. If you have one, this is the moment to put on your oversized New Era baseball cap. Porch time should involve at least 10-12 lewd comments concerning the opposite sex, and everyone in your party must shotgun at least 2 beers. Porch time will carry on until at least half-an-hour after the party you will later be attending has commenced.
Sufficiently tipsy? You are now ready to "Wile Out." Head to the party with your friends. While not environmentally friendly, it is sometimes necessary that at least one glass bottle be broken on the way. To do this properly, throw a bottle straight into the air, let a out a blood-curdling shriek, and run away giddily as the bottle crashes to the ground in the spot where you just stood.
The entrance to the party in the WO! tactic is one of the most important parts. You are at the party to be seen, not to see. For this reason, just as in the "Bump and Run" tactic, take care that all members of your group are hooting and hollering when you enter the front door.
Once in the party, you must do the following things at some point throughout the course of the night; the order listed here is a merely a rudimentary suggestion:
First, storm the dance floor. Wildly, and with your head down, thrust your booty in the face of the nearest (once) happily dancing girl. For added potency, peer menacingly over your shoulder. You'll know you're doing it right if she recoils in disgust.
After creating a small scene on the dance floor, head to the kitchen. Here, shotgun 2-3 tall cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon brand beer.
Immediately after shotgunning, make a break for the porch. Here you will drink more, smoke 1-2 cigarettes, and socialize with other revelers. This is also a good time to judge your "rad factor." If you have made a good impression with your shotgun antics and booty thrusting, others should be drawn to the porch, though not necessarily knowing why (kind of a "Field of Dreams" type thing). Regardless of whether or not this happens, socialize with those on the porch for a period of 15-30 minutes, and then re-enter the party.
At this point if you are properly "Wiling Out" you should be fairly intoxicated, making it the perfect time of the night to implement WO!'s second to last phase: embarrassing yourself with the opposite sex. This step is easy: simply approach a girl or guy you find attractive and attempt to make conversation. If it does not go well and you have to be dragged away by a friend, you have executed it correctly. Every one in your group must do this at least once.
After everyone has sufficiently embarrassed him or herself, you are ready to head home. The party you are at is now officially "lame." Where's the new party? Your house. That's right, WO! ends with those party-goers who are sufficiently cool heading to your house for a new and improved after party. This will usually involve rap music or reggae riddims played at extremely high volumes accompanied by poor to ghastly dancing. Note that at this point you should be completely bombed out of your tree. A good indication of this is if you go to the bathroom and find yourself grinning stupidly while you pee.

The end of the WO! is interesting. The possible scenarios are threefold:
1) You suddenly wake up on the couch to find it is the next morning. You are still wearing your shoes and hooded sweatshirt. You have a penis on your forehead.
2) The party eventually starts to dwindle down. You and your friends head to the roof of your house to smoke more cigarettes and enjoy the view. "Ignition (Remix)" by R. Kelly will be played one final time.
3) Option #3 is the most extreme of the three options. I won't get too specific, but I will say that it involves snorting Ritalin, pooping into a paper bag, putting it onto the porch of an enemy, and lighting it on fire. Option #3 is known in the medical world as, "rock bottom."

Well there you have them, folks. Five simple strategies guaranteed to make you the coolest partier on the block. Whether you're in college, working, or a semi-unemployed illegal deli worker, you can enter any party confident you are going to rock harder than the lead singer of Twisted Sister. Who knows, these strategies might even end up getting you introduced to the man/woman who will become the love of your life. And who will you have to thank for that?

-Boosh Clown

Song of the Day: "Everyday I'm Hustlin'" by Rick Ross

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Tough Crowd

Well, the midway results for Boosh Clown's first ever poll are in. The question: Is this not the raddest fucking website you've ever been to? The response: 3 votes "Hells yes," and 3 votes "I'm from Canada." Nine people have voted so far. Awesome.
"Keep truckin," as they say.

-Boosh Clown

Friday, April 4, 2008

aksdjfl;adsjfl;dksa;

Have you ever been on those virtual tours that give you 360° scrolling views of houses, apartments, etc.? You know how always feel kind of let down at the end of those tours? Well, the makers of AerialPan Imaging have some 360° imaging that blows those completely out of the water. Plus, the founder studied Econ at UW, so most of the examples are from Seattle.
Hella rad.
Anyway, check it out, and re-appreciate the splendor of the Emerald City☂.
(go here. click "Portfolio" and then "Aerial Tour.")

-Boosh Clown


☂ I hesitate to use the name "Emerald City" because I have never really liked this nickname, but I did it because I didn't want to use the word "Seattle" in two out of three sentences. Does anyone actually call Seattle the "Emerald City?" Why is it called this? Do the buildings look green? I'm sure there's a pretty simple explanation but I'm not going to type it into Google right now just so that some asshole on Wikipedia can "set me straight." I hate the internet.

Get Rad

Scroll down to the left and make your choice. Don't delay.

-Boosh Clown

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Le Cheval 2.1

You may have seen this short film before. It cost £30 to make and won the Depict! 90-second film competition in 2003.
Je veux être un cheval!

Party M.D.

I just got back from my second visit to the chiropractor that is hopefully going to cure me of my Achilles tendonitis once and for all. His last name is spelled M-a-b-e-e and pronounced "Maybe," which means I am officially seeing a doctor with the last name, "maybe. " This, of course, has brought myriad jokes to mind.

"Doctor, will I ever get better?"
"Maybe."

"Doctor, do you think more stretching would help?"
"Maybe."

"Doctor, are you a complete fucking lunatic who is going to come to my apartment at night and sabotage my Achilles tendon while I sleep?"
"Maybe."

Am I afraid of this guy? Maybe (read: definitely). One thing I'm wary of, for example, are all the pictures he has of athletes on his walls: soccer players, rugby stars, curling aficionados--even a violin player, with little notes next to them that say things like: "Thanks Dr. Maybe, I couldn't have done it without you!" "You're the best, Dr. Maybe!" "Thanks for fixing me, Dr. Maybe. I love you!" etc. etc.
Today when I went in, however, I experienced a terrifying feeling. What if all those pictures were fake? What if Dr. Maybe just gets random pictures of athletes and then has his secretaries write cute little notes next to them and sign fake signatures so that people will think he is an accomplished chiropractor who has cured hundreds of people when in reality he is just someone who has recently escaped from a local mental health clinic? There's one picture of a black soccer player, for instance, that looks like a magazine cut-out of Pele from the 1960's. Dr. Maybe wasn't even alive in the 60's. Even if the picture were taken in the 70's he still would've been a mere fetus, certainly incapable of performing Active Release Therapy on a full-grown athlete.

So will I continue to see Dr. Maybe? Maybe. Actually, definitely. There is nothing I want more than a healthy Achilles tendon, so fuck it: if a guy with an ambiguous last name who may or may not sit at home with glasses on cutting sports clippings out of magazines and pasting them to poster board has to be the guy to cure me, so be it. All aboard the "maybe" train! Next stop: insanity.

-Boosh Clown

Like of the Day: V8

Dislike of the Day: Tobacco

Song of the Day: "Coming in From the Cold" by The Delgados.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Video Daze...

This is Neil and me in Bogotá, Columbia, after a "kegger" on the roof-top terrace of some girls we had met a few days before.