Sunday, May 31, 2009

Childbirth is Gross

Got belly? Cover it up, no one wants to see that shit.

In just a matter of days, this sartorial dandy to your left turns 30! Yes friends, June 8th I enter the realm of those whose lives have spanned (3) decades. I say this because I want you to buy me stuff.

Also because it allows the opportunity for some unique reflection. As I think back, there are a lot of emotions: Thoughts of achievement, friendship and sadness about not having bedded a big tittay'd, bushy eyebrowed, Jennifer Connolly (circa Requim for a Dream).

If I'm feeling particularly introspective, I think back to my own birth. I thank my mother who had the good sense to squeeze me out so that I might shine a great light unto the world -like a more self-centered, better dressed Ghandi.

I gotta say though, beyond that, childbirth is gross.

You're probably thinking, "Patrick where did this resentment for the miracle of childbirth come from?" Well I'm glad you asked. It began as I was riding the subway this sunny weekend. I was engrossed in my current summer page turner, "Reagan: Conservatism & Conga - How the Cha Cha Chopped Communism, A Light Romp with Gorbachev," when I looked up what did I find?

A preggers belly right in my face! The thing is, she's not lifting up her shirt, this was the shirt! Yes! It was supposed to look like this! As if this wasn't bad enough, she let her belly hit the pole which, lubricated by ultrasound jelly, slipped off with a squeak.

Before you go calling me a sexist pig, let's think about this for a second. Say there was an equally attractive man who had a belly exactly as big would you want to see that? This isn't a rhetorical question, decide for yourself:

See! It's still gross and I'm A LOT more attractive than she is! So why is it a game changer just because she is "bringing a new life into this world?" You hypocrites...

When I got home, I tried to make sense of it all by searching 'joy of pregnancy' with the hopes that The Google might shed some light on this celebration of the fat tummy? If I thought I got an eyeful on the subway, that was nothing compared to what I found on the internets!

What is it about pregnancy, that means everyone needs to get naked and take unflattering pictures of themselves? Isn't that how this whole pregnancy thing happened in the first place? Gross. Fellas, please admit it you're not as into it as these pictures might illustrate. Your yearly contributions to porn sites have gone up 215%, and why wouldn't they? She's not only less attractive she's grouchy too!

The only person I have any respect for in this triptych is the gentleman in the middle who poses with the sincere, keen awareness that the only difference between his wife and himself is that his belly is stuffed with crispy, delicious duck while she a carries duckling of another feather. Well done, overweight Asian, well done.

And as if that wasn't enough-


That's what I'm talking about! These bellies sneak up on you.

The more I looked around the internets, the more creeped out I got. I mean just look at this "training doll."

Is this supposed to make the miracle of life some how more palatable? If so, you can slap a big 'ol 'FAIL' on this one too. Cause all I see is that creepy girl from The Ring with highly exaggerated nipples for a pre-pubescent girl. So, um, I think we can all agree, eew. Yes? Thought so.

Extremely upset, I decided to give the gestation and delivery of babies a stay for this weekend, and enjoy the mindless visual candy of the MTV Movie Awards. In a break between Megan Fox close-ups, MTV showed a teaser for their newest True Life documentary -essentially this:

If this is meant to curb unwanted pregnancies, I say Mission Accomplished. That said, I prefer my gnarly anti-pregnancy pandering in the form of a poorly programmed Bristol Palin toting around that floppy kid of hers. A slimy mix of blood and poo and placenta is not what I want to see as sandwiched between ads for Orbitz gum (the official gum of Patrick Garrigan) the latest T-Mobile flibbity-jibet! This is America, I will take my True Life with a side of censorship thank you very much!

In closing, let me say, I'm not anti-pregnancy. I'm simply anti-pregnancy in the public arena -you know, like around me. If you're currently pregnant, I tell you what I told my first wife when she learned she had a bun in the oven, congrats, now please, go find a baggy sweater and a banana clip. But that's a story for another day.


NEW FOUND NARCISSISM: Like that new picture at the top? Of course you do, it has me in it! My thanks to Mr. Taylor Hooper for the shots you'll see peppered throughout this b-log in the coming months. You want pictures? Drop him a line.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Waterboarding: Catch A Wave!

Stop assaulting American values like baseball, apple pie and summer waterboarding!

I'm sorry, but I have had it up to my taint with the likes of Nancy Pelosi (aren't you glad you clicked that) and all those liberal elites just tearing into that mainstay of the wet, hot American summer -waterboarding.

I will never forget growing up as a child in Ohio, my brother and sister and I used to get so excited for summer time because it meant we would head to the Jersey shore for vacation. I can't think of a memory more heartwarming than piling into the family station wagon and taking the 10 hour drive to Spring Lake, NJ.

Upon our arrival, we would squeal for the opportunity to grab our boards and hit the water. It was also a unique time when I would get to bond with my Dad, who would finally loosen that red tie of his and would teach us how to waterboard!

It wasn't long before we got the hang of it and we were waterboarding with the best of them!

There was just something so intoxicating about tethering myself to that board, and diving headlong into some cool H2O. The invigorating rush I would feel as the water splashed into my face -just making me feel so alive!

It was a beautiful time, an innocent time.

Throughout the summer, we used to have a host of guests. Why, I'll never forget the weekend that Christopher Hitchens visited us and we waterboarded with him! Here's a video clip of it. Scroll ahead though, the funniest part of him waterboarding with us happens at 3:12!

Christopher was so silly, he would keep getting water up his nose and complaining that he couldn't breathe. He is one funny limey.

As they say, all good things must come to an end. Even waterboarding. I just remember that profound sense of saddness when my sibs and I had to pack up our waterboarding equipment and head home to Ohio.

Just because we weren't in New Jersey anymore that didn't mean the fun had to stop however. As soon as we were home we would re-enact the magic of waterboarding over and over -well, as much as we could take! Why it would seem like we were just drowning in fun!

I may not still have my waterboarding equipment in my closet anymore, but you know what stays with me? The bloodcurdling screams as we gasped for air The memories of spending quality time with friends and family.

I tell you this story because I want you to hear the great things about waterboarding from someone who's actually done it. Don't let the mainstream media and former goody-goody Guantanamo Bay detainees rob us of our God-given right to go waterboarding on the weekends. This is America, dammit. We do what we wanna do.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

License to Insult

Here's the deal friends: I am a seeker of truth, insomuch as it is flattering to me. Chances are if you're honest with yourself, so too are you.

As I see it honesty is probably like, "hey, while you were out, I used your gym water bottle to make a do-it-yourself bidet, so you may want to wash it before you do squat thrusts next." It is integrity in the face of inconvenience while revealing a truism about yourself.

This can be difficult in the sense that it demands that I might have to behave in a way or say things that could make me uncomfortable or cause me to have to admit responsibility for errors that I *may* have made. WELLLLL, that doesn't sound like any fun!

In response, I have found more and more I am tweaking this definition to be a little more self-serving:

As I watch TV:
"Kelly is a fucking linebacker looking douchebag with no sense of reality. I'm just being honest."
Or as I chat with friends:
"You need to stop putting on so much make-up you look like a French whore-clown. Listen, I don't want to hurt your feelings but I'm just being honest, whore-clown."
Or in professional settings:
"This artwork is so fugly. Margo should just go into the storage room and shoot herself in her fugly face so she'll stop making such fugly shit. What? Too harsh? Just being honest. Fugly honest."
It's brilliant! It's like a lingual permission slip to say fuckall!

For me, "being honest" has become my back-end equivalent of saying such things as "don't take this the wrong way, but there's just something about you that makes me want to tie you to a tree in the wilderness, put peanut butter on your no-no places, and tape the impending carnage for a documentary I've been drafting for the past three years about you called, 'The Last Days of A Dipshit."

How do you not take that the wrong way? You can't!

That's the inherent beauty of "don't take this the wrong way" or "I'm being honest" you either warned them in the front or qualified it in the back, so they have no business being angry. Now you can say all those hateful things about Bob and Cheryl and Guillaume ('cause what kind of a tool name is that anyway) and rest comfortably in the knowledge you're protected by the Cloak of Truth! Hooray!

I am told by experts in the field of truthiness, truthologists I believe they're called, that this is not the correct use of "honesty" and they're taking it up with the Supreme Court or Judge Joe Brown or something to overturn my interpretation. Whatever, if that happens I have a Plan B. I'll just hire Buck here (pictured below) to hit people who annoy me in the head with a sock.

The bug-eyed look on their faces when Buck lands one right on the kisser will be just fine by me, honestly.

Monday, May 04, 2009

A Quicky: Rainy Days & Mondays

Go ahead, push play. You deserve it. The weekend has come to a close and I can't help feeling that I was robbed.

Maybe it was because it was shitty outside this weekend. Maybe it was because I spent most of my Samedi et Dimanche with my ass securely fixed to my somewhat distressed IKEA loveseat (my loveseat, much like Virginia, is for lovers) watching John Adams for the 14th time. That doesn't matter. I still feel like I should have more weekendy time, don't you?

Of course you do. This leaves us with a few options:

  1. Straight up, don't go to work and declare a "misday" - this is much like a mistrial except no legal body other than your own body declares this to be so.
  2. Stand on your head. I don't really know what this will do, but I was told in college that it gives you energy and refocuses you. I also went to school with a bunch of touchy feely nincompoops so I wouldn't put too much stock in it.
  3. Fake a seizure. Perhaps a desperate measure, but how badly do you not want to go to work today? Do you fake-a-seizure not want to go? Only you can decide.
  4. Call into work and declare "today I'm working from home." In short, working from home means sending (3) bullshit emails to prove to your boss that you are not just sitting in front of your 52" flatscreen watching Bull Durham, which of course you will be.
Yes friends, I'm claiming Swine Flu. And that's all that needs to be said.

Are you and your family worried about swine flu? Don't. This explains it all for you.

Like this vid? Go here for more. Or don't it's your prerogative on this Monday.


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