Hamish McMonkey Pants

Bearded Bruntballs or How to Save the Phillies

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 10:47:00 -0500

I know, I know. I’ve been ignoring the world. Oh, woe is me. Hamish almost made it an entire Phillies season without saying a word about the team he creams for. And now, with tonight being the second to last game (that’s right 2nd to last), I can no longer stay silent. I must shout from the rooftops what I feel inside.

The Phillies are going to win their second (in a row) World Series in tomorrow. This is no joke. I have a strong psychic feeling inside that tells me that the Phillies are going to win their second World Series tomorrow night. A spaceman came up to me yesterday as I was drinking an Old Fashioned a the bar at the local ‘Oliday Inn. He began telling me about how he’s from the future and has seen the Phillies win the World Series in 2009. He then took me up to his room (I went due to the fact I was still unsure if he was male or female) and told me what needs to be done in order for them to win.

#1: Brad Lidge must be killed.

He is like a giant cyst on your back. You don’t remember how it got there, or if it was ever not painful to look at. But it must be lanced and the juices inside it must be squeezed out until it is dead. He should never pitch again, now I remember why the Astros got rid of him. He blows nard sacks. I want that trade reversed right now and I want Geoff Geary back.

I’d rather have Geoff Geary be our closer for the final two games of the World Series than Brad Lidge. I’d rather watch Geoff Geary have sex with every animal on Noah’s ark then watch Brad Lidge again. Brad Lidge’s pitching is like watching a car crash and then every other car crash behind it, and every car that crashes has someone you love in it, and every time they crash their lifeless bodies fly through the windshield.

I do not care if Lidge saves the next two games with perfect innings, 3 strikeouts in a row. I will still hate Brad Lidge and hope that he winds up on some mole removal commercial for the next season.

#2: Cole Hamels needs to clear the sand out of his vagina.

Seriously Cole. Seriously. Here’s a bucket of water. Pull down your pants and spread your legs. I’m gonna pour until the sand has all cleared. Then I’m going to beat the ever living shit out of you until you fight back. Brett Myers was right for giving you shit. I’m a huge Brett Myers fan right now. He’s trying to spark some life into your lifeless soul. Yeah, you had a kid. There are thousands of kids born every day, it’s not every day that your World Series MVP pitcher turns out to be a sandy vagined bitch salad.

Stop it. Stop it right now. Get up off the fuckin’ ground. I know that Charlie’s gonna pitch you tomorrow for the crucial Game #7. He has to. He’s fuckin’ Kris Kringle. He brings presents to all the children. Your present is going to be a chance to be the savior of the Phillies. Will you step up? Or will Chan Ho Park have to pitch 5 innings in relief. The ball’s in your court Cole, are you gonna keep selling Comcast to us? Eating pizza with Jameer Nelson and Ochocinco? Or are you going to pitch some motherfuckin’ nasty baseball?

#3: Ryan Howard has to shave his beard.

It’s not you man, it’s not at all. I better be tuning in tonight and see you walk out of that dugout sans facial hair. Remember last year? When you didn’t have a beard? And you didn’t set records for most strikeouts in a World Series ever. Remember that? I do. STOP IT RIGHT NOW. Shave your little girly facial hair and open your eyes and hit some motherfuckin’ baseballs. You know what happens when you start smashing around baseballs? We score more baseball runs. And that’s how we can beat the Yankees. Tons of baseball runs. Then we can pitch anyone we feel like. But when you strike out, you do nothing. Nothing at all. You don’t advance base runners, you don’t pose a threat. We might as well have Jim Abbott out there, because at least he might make contact.

In case you are ill-informed. Jim Abbott was a one armed pitcher. Notice the picture and his baby glove. It’d be very difficult for him to bat. And thankfully he never had to. But, Ryan Howard bats. And Ryan Howard needs to bat. So, let Ryan Howard get out there, clean shaven, and shit all over Yankee Stadium.

#4: Alex Rodriguez and Robinson Cano need to continue not caring.

If I was a Yankee fan, and that’s really taking things far, but if I was a Yankee fan and I had those two players on my team I would continually write about how much I hate them and wish they would get speared through the heart by Baraka.

Now, I know they are both really good hitters, A-Rod way more than Cano (Had Cano on my Fantasy Baseball team two years ago, had to drop him a month in cause he sucked so bad.) But every time I see A-Rod bat I think to myself, Jesus, this guy looks like he doesn’t give two shits. He has the look of the asshole in his eyes. He’s like, “I’m so good, I don’t even know why I stand up here, I should be in the stands watching how good I look standing up here.” Yes, I know he’s clutch and most likely a future HOF (barring steroid issues). It’s just the fuckin’ look he gives standing up there. It’s the same thing I give D McNeezey shit for, if he doesn’t stand there laughing after he throws a ball 50 feet in front of DeSean, I’m happy. But, when he smiles and laughs after fucking up, I want to kill him. I want to smash A-Rod’s face in for the smug ass look he gives. But, you know what, keep it up dickhead. I hope you have the same soulless look when the Phillies in in 7.

As for Cano, he does the same thing and then everytime they show him in the dugout he’s spitting out 40-50 sunflower seeds and they’re all sticking on his gigantic colagen induced lips (Hence me nicknaming him “Colagen”). I hate Cano for his smug ass looks and his holier-than-thou attitude. Want to hate him just as much as me? Look at this picture.

This is fine, keep looking like you both don’t care. It’s one of my personal keys to victories and will make me hate both of you more and more. Fuck the Yankees. Oh, yes, Fuck the Yankees.

#5: Eric Bruntlett needs to pinch run.

I’m pretty sure we can only win these final two games if at some point near the end of the game Charlie decides to pinch run Bruntballs for Stairs or Ibanez or Feliz. Anyone slow on our team really. Bruntballs suffers from the opposite of Ryan Howard. Howard’s hair needs to go, Bruntballs’ beard needs to be bushier. Way bushier. I have a bushy beard right now. But Bruntballs beard is still bushier and needs to be extra bushy for the Phillies to win. This is a point the alien I was talking about earlier kept telling me as I railed him in the ass. With an extra bushy Bruntballs, the Phillies are money in the fuckin’ bank …

And remember, Bruntballs is “not for public use.”

"Pedro better Soul-Glo up his balls and get ready to dump them all over the Yankees’ chins."

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 09:39:47 -0500

“Pedro better Soul-Glo up his balls and get ready to dump them all over the Yankees’ chins.”

- Hamish, P-Martinee & His Balls

#98

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 03:13:00 -0400

So, there’s a little bar at 8th & Fitzwater by the name of Vesuvio’s. They do a lot of Eagles postgame shows there, and they have an amazing special that every drink is $4. No matter if it’s an expensive beer or a glass of Johnny Walker Black, it’s still $4. So, needless to say I was there last night getting my crunk on. It was after work so I was a little hungry for some dinner. They also have a very good menu with what they call the #1 sandwich in the country.

VESUVIO’s CHEESESTEAK BLT
filet mignon, caramelized onions, bacon, provolone, lettuce, tomato, sriracha mayo.

I’ve had it before, and let me tell you. Amazing. So, anyways, I was feeling a little peckish last night, and I was reading through their menu, trying to find something that suited my half-crunk mind’s pleasure. Then the bartender says to me, if you can’t decide what you want, you need to have the #98. It was one of their specials of the week created by the Eagles very own defensive tackle, Mike Patterson. I looked to see what Mike had created. It was a sandwich with pulled pork, crispy chicken tenders, gouda cheese, crispy fried onion peels, and served with a side of homemade BBQ kettle chips. I was very tempted. The guy sitting next to me at the bar said, “I came here on Sunday and spent the whole day watching football, and I had 3 of those #98’s.” I thought to myself, alright, I guess they must be good and not that overwhelming. “Barkeep! Hook me up with a #98.” Before I continue, I want to show you Mike Patterson with our insanely fat coach, Andy Reid.

He’s a tank. And standing next to a “I eat cheesesteaks on the sidelines” Andy Reid, you can really tell his girth. This sandwich came out and it’s about 8 inches tall. And the bread was spread out to the side just to make it look shorter. Bear in mind, I have a giant fuckin’ mouth and can chonk almost anything. I had to open the jaw to full capacity just to get from bread to bread with a single bite into my gully. But, to keep #98 happy, I’d like to say I finished the beast and have now woken up @ 3 AM to write about it. Why am I up at 3 AM? Because my stomach feels like Mike Patterson took a shit in it. Thanks Mike, you and your boys better kick the shit out of the Chiefs on Sunday, or I’m gonna find out where you live and load up your front porch with all the fecal matter I produce from your stomach damaging sammy.

"Oh, Mike Patterson, you taste so good."

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 02:51:47 -0400

“Oh, Mike Patterson, you taste so good.”

- Hamish, Fat Philadelphia Eagles: A Guide to Food

Happy, Happy Birthday to You/Splashdance. Great sound quality,...

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 17:24:48 -0400

Happy, Happy Birthday to You/Splashdance. Great sound quality, for the newest bestest Birthday song ever. And I love the shitty collection of clip art/animated gif’s this guy has pulled together.

Splashdance/Splashdance. Excuse the crudity of the sound...

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 17:22:59 -0400

Splashdance/Splashdance. Excuse the crudity of the sound quality, but it’s so nice to watch some video with your Splashdance experience.

Disney Tape or Being Gay with Your Friends

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 17:21:00 -0400

So, I found an old cassette tape of Disney’s Splashdance (circa 1983). It’s fuckin’ amazing. I mean they’ve got that dude singing most of the songs. You know that dude. The dude who has just the perfectly toned voice that makes it sound like all little kids should take off their pants and show ‘em what they’re working with. Some of the songs even sound eerily similar to like some kind of strange ELO/Styx/REO Speedwagon mix. It makes me feel so good.

Anyway, since I forgot my iPod on multiple occasions, instead of listening to terrestrial radio (it’s way too random) we pop in this tape. And those first couple of songs just make you want to dance, sing, and plain take off your pants, no matter what age you are now. (I plan on including some YouTube videos to give you a feeling of what I was feeling.) My car was ripping and roaring, anyone who hears these songs immediately falls in love with them and can’t stop singing and dancing. It’s just this overall rush, better than crack/cocaine, better than heroin, better than horse tranquilizers. Get some of this Splashdance … it’ll rock your fuckin’ world.

"They’re upside down weeps, on inside out swings. They do things backwards, and backwards they..."

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 17:12:25 -0400

“They’re upside down weeps, on inside out swings. They do things backwards, and backwards they sing. Yapph Yadhtrib, Yapph Yadhtrib, Yapph, Yapph Yadhtrib Ot Uoy. Which means …”

- Happy, Happy Birthday to You, Splashdance, an amazing Disney Album

"If suddenly you were a guy, I’d be suddenly gay."

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 17:00:11 -0400

“If suddenly you were a guy, I’d be suddenly gay.”

- Community Property, Steel Panther

Oregon Trail II

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 00:03:44 -0400

Was way too high-tech for simple minded wagon folks.

“Challenge the Unpredictable Frontier!”

I wondered if a CD-ROM version of Oregon Trail II would still run on my new-fangled computer. So as I loaded it up I checked out the system requirements.

Microsoft Windows 3.1 or higher.

Check. Wait, I’m not sure if Vista is considered higher. It doesn’t have a number. Unless, Vista is like some numbers puzzle I have to solve. I’d go with … V=22, I=9, S=19, T=20, A=1 meaning Vista was version 2291920. That’s looks like a long version type, it actually looks more like a phone number. I tried calling it. It’s a fax machine. Fax machines must be higher than 3.1. We have to be cool.

256-color SVGA display.

Shit. Don’t have that anymore. We may be fucked here.

12MB hard-disk space.

Ouch. Vicious. I didn’t know if my computer could possibly spare that. So, I called MECC Technical support with the ‘612’ area code they provide me with in the manual. Minneapolis, Minnesota. Nobody is fuckin’ answering. This is bullshit. Why ofter a customer service with no hours indicated and not pick up the phone? In the 15 years, since the manual’s copyright date, have our morals seriously dropped this low? We can’t even honor things we put in place 15 years ago, how can anyone have faith in things we once believed in the past? What is Almond Joys didn’t have nuts, and Mounds did? Would that change their business scheme at all?

No. It wouldn’t, because coconuts are evil no matter which way you slice it.

PS - Looking up “evil coconut” in google lead me to a very weird page. Swift WindRider’s Evil Coconut Guide.

If you have the time, read through that website, it’s about unicorn’s & evil coconuts, blew my mind.

"The only instrument I could really say I was talented in was the whistle pop. But, that’s..."

Fri, 28 Aug 2009 06:52:47 -0400

“The only instrument I could really say I was talented in was the whistle pop. But, that’s just because I got such a sugar rush I could feel the music flowing through my fuckin’ veins.”

- - Hamish, Candy = Art? No, Candy > Art.

- Red Meat (8/11/09)

Fri, 28 Aug 2009 06:43:00 -0400

- Red Meat (8/11/09)

I love looking up random words (i.e. bagel) and then...

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 12:33:41 -0400

I love looking up random words (i.e. bagel) and then “funny” in google. It helps me find the freshest pictures.

"Well, then you’re gonna have to make 4 Purple Alaskan Thunder Fucks."

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 12:29:06 -0400

“Well, then you’re gonna have to make 4 Purple Alaskan Thunder Fucks.”

- Hamish, last night, How to Find the Best Shot in a Shot Book (SoCo, Jack Daniel’s, Amaretto, Raspberry Liqueur, OJ, Pineapple Juice)

Gotta Love Muffins . . .

Tue, 25 Aug 2009 11:25:16 -0400

As I sit here in work, just finishing off a Banana Nut Muffin, which I very strategically left for myself yesterday, I need to tell you all about a beer I tasted last night. It was incredible. It was fantastic. It tasted like a SON OF A BITCHIN’ BLUEBERRY MUFFIN. A good one too. Not some run of the mill, dinky doodle little coffee shop Blueberry Muffin. I’m talking about one of those huge fuck off giant blueberry muffins with crumbles falling everywhere and blueberries so juicy they shoot their juices into your eye. If this isn’t getting you wet yet, then nothing will.

Sea Dog. Go get some. Tell ‘em Hamish sent you.

Girl Drink Drunk

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 15:33:33 -0400

I saw this Kids in the Hall episode back in the day about this guy working at an office and he gets invited out after work with his co-workers. He’s not a big drinker, so one of them order him a big fruity looking drink. And he’s hooked. It ends with him in the supply closet blending ice and cutting fruit to create another “girl drink” to feed his addiction.

Oh, poor Dave Foley. Soon enough afterwards, I began my drinking career. We all start down the same road, through the Beer Gardens. And beer is so good and perfect and cheap and easy to come by. Then you move on to harder alcohol, and that’s good too. Then you’ve build up all sorts of creations you love to drink, that are considered masculine. Rum/Coke, Whiskey/Coke (Really Whiskey and anything), anything on the rocks, anything straight up (anything that is not flavored). And everything’s going great for you …

But then you are tempted by the fruit of another … a sweet delicious fruit. Some call it Love Potion. And that’s exactly what it is. Take some Hawaiian Punch, some Red Bull, and some *gasp* Three Olives Cherry Vodka, and mix it up. It tastes like a fuckin’ Starburst. Like fuckin’ Shirley Temple herself ejaculated into your mouth. But, you’re afraid, you can’t let others see you enjoying this amazingly girly drink. So you hide your passion. Until you can convince others …

So don’t be afraid “Girl Drink” Drunks are everywhere. I’ve dabbled with it myself. Shout it from the rooftops, “I LOVE FRUITY DRINKS.” Actually don’t shout it and don’t tell anybody. It’s not good for your image, people are already start to wonder about you and your life choices. Don’t feed the flames. Oh, fuck it. Feed the fuckin’ flames and enjoy your drinks. Taste is everything. BOOM!

"I hate assholes, the people not the body part."

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 13:09:11 -0400

“I hate assholes, the people not the body part.”

- Hamish

Lookin' into the Future

Thu, 20 Aug 2009 13:23:48 -0400

I can’t tell what will happen in the future, and usually when you write about things that you’re attempting to do, you automatically jinx yourself. So, I quit smoking on Monday, cold turkey.

And looking back on that past blog about how I’m a crazy smoking rebel, and no one can stop me makes me think that I might have killed a few people before and not remembered doing it. But, if I don’t remember, it never happened. Right? Anyway, you may ask why I quit.

Why?

I don’t know, I had an out of the blue amazing weekend, full of tons of fun. I got home from work Monday, no one was at my house, and I was out of cigarettes. I started doing yard work in our backyard. I worked out there for over 3 hours, sweating. And then that was it. I haven’t had one in 3 days. I’ve wanted to, but I’ve managed not to have one even through some after work drinking. So, we’ll see where this takes me … but forgive the lack of blogging this week. I’m trying to quelch one addiction … whilst bringing back another.

Smokin', Smokin'! (Reblogged from 3/28/08)

Thu, 20 Aug 2009 13:17:08 -0400

Ok, yeah, I smoke cigarettes. I smoke fifty packs a day. I like it, I enjoy it. It gives me something to do. It keeps me calm when I’m feeling stressed, it gives me a break in the monotony of the day. I’m a smoker, I know it, but people around me seem to think I’m afflicted. As if, because I smoke I want people to help me stop smoking. I’m a smoker, HELP ME, I can’t control myself. I’m killing myself everyday and I just want YOU to help me stop. Please help me, I’m a useless human being who doesn’t understand what I’m doing. HELP!

Fuck you. I smoke and I want to smoke. So, suck it and fuck it assholes. If I want help, I ask for help. If I don’t want to smoke, I won’t smoke. If I have problems quitting, I’ll deal with it then. But, I’m not ready yet. My life isn’t that important yet to have a need to stop smoking. If someone doesn’t like me because I smoke, suck my ass. Unless I’m doing a family thing, or if you want my body and you don’t like smokers, I’m going to smoke. If you’re either of the two previous thing, BAM, I stop smoking. I’ve done it many, many times. A girl I was seeing before had me stop for months. Months! And I did it, I did it all for the nookie. But, as of now, I’m a smoker, just like my idol Bogie.

I wasn’t mad when they banned cigarettes from restaurants and bars. I think it’s a good idea. First of all getting engulfed by cigarette smoke while trying to eat a meal sucks assholes, it’s nice to just enjoy your food without distractions. The only good thing was enjoying a cigarette after you eat, but you can sit up and walk outside if you really need it. As for smoking at bars, well, it kind of sucks, but not totally. Did I care that my clothes smelled like smoke after bars? Nah. My clothes smell like smoke anyway. The thing that I like about it is that it gives you that break from the bar. Away from the loud music and tight places, so that you can really talk to someone one on one or to get away from the annoyingness that is the bar. It actually gives you something to do while drinking, take a walk outside. Nice, thanks lawmakers!

So, smoke if you got ‘em, or don’t smoke if you don’t. I don’t think people should be judged on their smoking status. In fact, I don’t think people should be judged at all. But, these are judging times. And if you choose to enjoy cigarettes and subtract years off your life, go for it. I’d rather enjoy cigarettes now, then make with the diarrhea in my Depends when I’m eighty-four.

Michael Vick and How to Save Philadelphia

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 13:40:46 -0400

Ok, ok, ok, I’m fed up with the five billion e-mails, texts, facebook updates all involving everyone’s own opinion on the whole Michael Vick thing. I really don’t care what anyone thinks about it. Personally, I love it. But, that’s not what we’re talking about here. Because, I’m tired of it. Win, lose or draw, we have Michael Vick on the Eagles and it’s time to make the best of it.

I was reading recently about all the money problems the city of Philadelphia has been having and how we’re going to have to start shutting down local pools, youth clubs, and libraries to save on the money. It sucks to rob people of government operated things due to a shitty economy, if there’s no library where will the children expand their minds? God only knows. And right when all was seeming to slide downhill on Philly in comes Michael Vick.

He brings with certain skill sets that no one else could provide, and he also is in search of a way to give back to the community. Well, Philadelphia needs you Michael Vick. What can you do for us? So, I drew up in my head everything I know about Michael Vick and came up with a 2-part plan of action.

1) If Michael Vick starting sleeping all around with random chicks in Philadelphia and his genital warts became rampant, people would stop having unprotected sex. Not only would it keep down on population, but it would keep kids off the street. And due to the closing of safe places where children can go, this is a huge deterent for unwanted teenage pregnancy, and all Michael Vick has to do is fuck. And I’m pretty sure he knows how to do that, he was in jail for awhile.

2) Forget legalizing weed, closing post offices, or laying off more workers, to really start the money flowing in the city we need Michael Vick to begin opening up government run dog fighting arenas. We could have each section of Philly have their own team of dogs, and the fun would begin. The West Philly Bulldogs vs. The Fishtown Fighting Poodles. Not only would it unite neighborhoods together with pride, but the revenue at one of these events could be gigantic. Think about the food/beverage sale alone, not to mention the betting that would bring so much money in. I mean that’s why Vick was in it to begin with. It’s a money making monster, and now we need Vick to bring that to us, and he will. He’s one devious bastard.

Save us, Vicky, we need you.