xmas

One of my goals for this blog is to incorporate as many Brad Neely creations as possible. Now that Christmas is here I have a few gems to share with you.

It's What Love Means.

For all the lesser beings, those confused about love and life, a massive load of penis-envy floats around our city here on Sunday nights.

I felt a cleanliness in a dirty place. A place with disrobed Christmas dolls exalted by a semi-solid musk of greasy demons with sweaty balls and leaking peni.

The cleanliness was within an angel flailing her limbs above me in the rafters. This flailing I initially believed was the product of a Hurling Hex, similar to our hero Harry P on his broom, but slowly I began see that it was actually graceful dancing.

I proceeded to fall into a dreamy and sulking half-conscious state of drooling.

I thought to myself, “Jesus, how could this new God be here in this place?? She is a diamond! In a sandwich plated before an indestructible-teeth toddler that LOVES diamond sandwiches!”

I was lost in sorrow.

“She cannot shine in this shitty gut… Never in this shitty, shitty gut.”

I am indeed a hellion bastard, just as inferior as the rest of the panting strangers with tensing crotch muscles. How can it be? That I am here feasting with the other greasy beasts?

My beautiful half-naked dancing angel looked down upon my watery eyes and said to me,

“you are in the right place, Ryan. You belong here with me.” My crotch muscles released. “Now open your wallet and give me your shitty dollar.”

And so I did. No thrift store could ever buy me in like this.

I feel in love with a woman with giant boots and tiny neon shorts.

I feel in love with a go-go dancer at Dante’s.

Soul Night

After reading some of the posts I quickly realized that the poop monster is really the only one pooping (golden nuggets of literary genius) all over the blog and therefore feel obligated to contribute.

School is over. Finals are over. Out of Eugene. Into Soul Night. First night back into bridge city and I'm just jonesing to get my feet loose and let off some steam. Without even saying hi to the folks I head straight to "Soul Night", Portland's best foot loosen, knee banging, hips gyrating, heart pumping, beer drinking, and soul sexin spot in town. A place were people of all ages, sizes, and rhythmic abilities come to blow steam. Due to a perfect gas mixture of: 2 pints of IPA, a redbull, 2 shots of gin chased with lime, and 2 Olympia tall boys [its in the water], my dancing engine was running full force and in over drive. Steam was released, sweat was drained, and I went home an extremely happy and beat individual.

And while you're waiting for Friday to role around, clear your living room, crank this song, and get your soul practice on:

Sweet Soul Music

We Know Quality

You may be asking yourself what is art, how can it be judged, and who has the right to judge it? Bromansion knows what makes art and you could too. Just peep the shit we lay out for you and maybe one day you too could write a pretentious blog where you critique other peoples talent that you dont have. With that let me lay some real shit on you. If you dont like this, then you're just a Philistine.
Selleck Waterfall Sandwich

Total Bullshit

As you are likely aware if you are one of our college aged followers (do we have followers other than Cindy? I believe not....) it is nearly finals week. You may be feeling a little overwhelmed and helpless and possibly suicidal. Everything is alright take a deep breath and listen to this message from the creative genius of Brad Neely:

Homecoming

I have just returned home from Turkey Break and it was truly amazing, however I had the realization while I was at home that I may never be able to live there again.

This realization came to me Friday night as I ventured out to partake in the vibrant Sandy night-life. I drove into Sandy with my best man Riley to meet with Baker and Brandon. Our first target was the No Place Saloon. We walked in awkwardly and proceeded to stare at the masses of backwoods hicks who had congregated in the establishment. While still reeling in disbelief at how many overweight, ignorant racists could fit into one room a former classmate approached us and struck up small talk. I for some reason found myself entirely unable to speak as I could not remember the name of this young man and I was crushed by the phobia that at any second he would single me out for not remembering him. Luckily Riley saved my ass and used his best 4x4 accent converse with our old chum. This awkward interaction continued for seemingly an eternity until the good fellow recommended we try the Gateway Pub for pool.
We took up our old chap on his advice and headed for Sandy's biker bar. I am not sure that Sandy even has a biker community, but it does have a biker bar. We were greeted at the door by three specter-like meth tweekers. Upon entering the bar all 15 patrons swiveled their heads and affixed their eyes on us intruders. We crept carefully past the bar trolls and took a seat at the far end of the bar. We then oredered some great American beer from the less than inviting bar wench. We cracked open our beers and rejoiced in the absolutely Sandy-ness of the adventure. After taking a sip Baker then exclaimed in horror to the group that a scab had gotten stuck to his lip that must have been resting on his can. At this point two women approached me and asked if we were from out of town. I told them that in fact I was from around, but had only recently turned 21. She turned to her friend and grinned and informed me that they had us pegged as soon as we came in and that we looked like the Beatles walking in. She then complimented me on choosing a union beer and proudly boasted that she was the union crane operator. I could tell the sparks were flying between the two of us. I decided to seal the deal with a little name drop..... Mr. L'Hommedieu. She blushed and told me that she must be old because he had taught her and I chimed in that, he at one point in my life, instructed me as well. We had a good laugh and then she took her leave to tempt the other eligible bachelor bar trolls. We then proceeded to play as much pool as we had quarters. At this point there was nothing left to do so we decided to on a mission to drink at the stadium. Instead we just went to safeway and then drove around from one place to another talking about what we should do. If you are not from Sandy this is what you do in high school. Finally after cruising the entirety of town we split ways. On the ride home Riley and I came to the mutual conclusion that Sandy is a life sucking force and that weathering any period of time there in the future was just out of the question. I hope whoever reads this had a great thanksgiving and has someplace to be thankful for.

herb popcorn and the like

Woke up from an extended nap of four hours, my balls smelling of old corn chips, and headed for the pantry. I immediately found the bag of yayas herb pop corn (11 herbs and spices!) and stuffed that shit in my face. Then ate cookies. And milk. And shredded cheese. The well-rounded diet of a champion...masturbator.

Congtratulations, you found our home!

POOP POOP POOP i pooop every day and i'm william the poop monster!