Hello everyone! I hope your all doing well. So we have another episode posted. I know, yes another episode. But we really think your going to enjoy this one. I know it’s hard to find the time. Heck I can barely find the time to wash my body, but you know what, most days I’m able to squeeze it in. Even if its only hitting the main areas of concern. A complete shower no, but clean enough to go about the day.
Holy cannoli with eggs and raviolii…
It's Valentines day you big jabroni!
So put on your fancy underpants, da soft ones, not da ones made of bark…
And sit on back and listen to some love advice from Mr. Bill Stark.
Pesky Cream Liquid Driving You NUTS?
Can’t Stand the ENDLESS Puddles of Ketchup Water Gathering In and Around Your Frig?
Well, Cry No MORE!
Introducing the CREAM SPONGE By: Uppercut
Say GOODBYE to Those RIVERS of Mustard Juice and Take the PLUNGE with the Cream Sponge!
By: Uppercut (A Subsidiary of Vomit Box LLC)
Well that time of year is finally here. It’s one of the largest events on this side of the planet and Mike and Charley can barely contain their excitement for this year’s cul·mi·na·tion of game play. To say its a big game is an understatement…
Grandiose? Sure.
Big? Well Yeah.
Gargantuan? You can say that.
Enormous? I guess.
Huge? Please enough with the synonyms… We get it. Its a bigger than normal game.
Would you say substantial? Well yes.
Monumental?
Would you say its monumental?
Hello?
Hello?
I guess they left…(tear)
As the winter comes, so does the weight gain. It’s a fact of life that as it gets colder our bodies get fatter. It’s biology. This has been the cycle since the caveman eras. So as we enter a new year it’s always good to reflect upon, and try to figure out, just how slobingly large we have become and what, if anything, we can do to try and alleviate some of the unnecessary mass we’ve begun to carry around our fare city. On this very, very, special episode of MITM, the monsters open up their channel to their friends at Winter Weight Radio Fat Jack and Fat Dan as they discuss all things chub related. Hope you tune in. Blessings.
I never considered myself “fit”. In fact because of my weight I find it hard to “fit into” many places. My car for instance, the shower stall, the phone booth (yes I still use a phone booth), and of course the church pew during Sunday worship and every Saturday during the preworship pot luck. I can go on and on and on… and will: My in-laws newly remodeled washroom, the dental chair, and mentioning that the weighted dental vest they make you wear during X-rays (they bring out a special one for me, its more like a lead blanket), the changing room at Men’s Warehouse, helicopter cockpits, and of course those little side cars on motorcycles…. Oh and my pants.
For over 30 years it’s been a holiday tradition here at Monsters in the Morning to rebroadcast Cotton Man’s groundbreaking holiday christmas album A Sleigh Full of Cheer. Highly regarded as ahead of its time, gut wrenchingly honest, and at moments quite disturbing, the album has found itself its own unique cult following over the years since its debut. So sit back, relax, sip on some hot-hot cocoa, and enjoy the insanity with Cotton Man. God Bless.
Tis’ the Holiday season and I’m such a wreck.
I slipped on some ice and severely hurt my back and neck.
The doctor I respect said I need to stay in bed.
But that’s impossible you see with all these jingle bells ringing round’ my head.
So out the front door I go, without a cap or coat.
Wondering the holiday streets in search of a boat.
A boat? Si el bote, I know it may sound odd.
But this boat you see was sent down to me by God.
Listen, a storm is coming because He is mad.
At you, at Steve, at Mom and Dad.
He’s angry at the way this world has turned so crummy.
No use in repenting, your time is up you dummy.
But what about thou you say? Well, I’m different see.
Believe it or not but He speaks directly to me.
Father has spared me his reckoning for I’ve always done right.
Never hurt even a fly, or gone gallivanting in the night.
Yes! It’s all so clear to to me now its crystal!
Hahahahaha Huh? What’s that you whistle?
Go run into oncoming traffic?
Hahaha… OK.
Seriously?
I sit in silence. Alone. Nude. Allowing the cool open air to envelope my skin and bath my soul. Observing the space around me. Taking it all in. Breathing. Seeing. Day dreaming. Allowing my mind to wonder to places I never knew it would dare explore. Strange places. These places I go, these places are no bueno.
There’s no reason to be ashamed by it. Your one of many. This is a safe place. A place where the possibilities are endless. The portions have no limit. And where surprises await for you around every corner. This ain’t no ordinary city, this is buffet city. So take a seat in a warm vinyl chair. Enjoy a fresh pop or lemonade, and bask in the glow of fluorescent lights and the heat only warming trays as far as the eye can see can produce. So come hungry and leave slightly to very ill and remember that its the experience that’s most important. Your journey awaits you at your nearest neighborhood buffet.
He’s everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. He’s lurking in the shadows waiting for a moment to speak to you. He looking through all your cabinets searching for a pub glass. He tracked dog shit all throughout your living room. He sneezes constantly. He’s having a rough year, yet today he has a smile on his face. He's at home in your home, and he’s planning on staying awhile.
Of course with every episode of This American Shit we look at how shitting effects the daily lives of regular citizens from every walk of life. This week’s episode, host Yonah Sand gives us shit stories including: “To Do or Not to Do-Do (In my pants)”, “The Happy Accident”, a special report from producer Doug Bundle - “Plotching: The New Shittier Epidemic, and “The Unlikely Defense”. We hope you’ll join us.
I guess I never was one of those kids who was very athletic. Heck I could barely walk, let alone run. So when the kids were picking teams, there was no doubt I was gonna be picked, you guessed it: last. But no matter what I always gave it my all. Even though that usually consisted of myself attempting to participate in the most minimal of ways usually resulting in a game halting injury. This too didn’t garner me much fanfare. Many of the kids would sneer and spit at me, some even trying to bite me. I would always tell them that I couldn’t help the fact that I had brittle bones, but they never listened.
The whistle blows my mind as the synchronized formations begin to dance in my dreams.
I am one with this performance.
Life’s delicate balance teeters once again on the turf of the world.
This is my sanctuary.
My home.
Life.
On the cool July night, in a corner of the country we sometimes may forget, a murder was committed. A girl was dead. And a young man by the name of Jessup Turner was the prime suspect. All the evidence was pointed in his direction. What followed next was a trial with many twists and turns, ups and downs, ins and outs, surprise witnesses, forensic mumbo jumbo, charts, bar graphs, large photos, timelines, but above all else, left us all wondering “what in the world is going to happen next?”
I dream about living in the mountains. More now than ever before. This is true. I’m not sure what it is that calls me. Can it be the fresh water streams filled with copious amounts of fattened delicious salmon just waiting to be tossed down my big ‘ol country gullet, or can it be the wet dewy long grass that dances so gracefully in the morning wind and which also doubles as a perfect moist towelette coming in quite handy after a good old fashion country dumpin’… Whatever it is, there is one thing for sure: one day I’ll return, and when that day comes all I ask is that you smile for me and know that I am where I belong.
You gotta be careful nowadays. You really do. Lurking in every alleyway, every driveway is someone or something waiting, waiting to hurt you. This is real. This is REALITY. This is happening NOW! Everywhere you go is unsafe. I’m not lying to you. I’m simply trying to warn you, warn you about your impending doom. This may be hard to swallow. But at least now you know. Have a great rest of your day.
I walk these streets covered in a blanket woven from the fibers of so many broken dreams. I made it myself. Underneath the blanket I am completely nude. Stark naked you can say. The blanket keeps me warm. It shields me from the pressures of the outside world. Some may think the blanket is soiled, but nay. It’s actually quite clean. You see, the blanket and I look out for one another, we protect each other and have a bond build on mutual respect and admiration. I love this blanket. Pray for me.
Imagine a world without ribs… A place vacant of any and all sweet and tangy BBQ sauces. A land empty of dry rubs. A realm where fall off the bone pork pieces is a thing of the past, or perhaps an experience which never was... It’s hard isn’t it? I know. God do I know.
You know I can’t tell you how many times during the day people come up to me out of the clear blue sky and ask me questions pertaining to sports. Being the nice person I am and one who aims to please, I will no doubt provide an answer to such inquiries spewing such insight like: “they look good”, “the season is off to a promising start”, “what can I say the team is full of raw potential”, “I have full faith in the coaching staff”, “the uniforms need more starch”, “the grass looks tip top”, “the coach is very handsome”, “you gotta respect the rule book”, "I like this coach, I like this coach a lot”, “the owners are to blame”, “I think I maybe falling in love with this team but more importantly with this coach” and so on and so on. What can I say, its my job. And I love my job…
