Strellyblog

A Lot of People to Hate

2006-10-16T17:08:00.000-07:00

The population of the U.S. is scheduled to hit 300,000,000 sometime around midnight tonight. That's a lot of people to hate, Strelly. You might want to take Wednesday off and get started.

That thing got a hemmie?

2006-10-13T13:45:00.000-07:00

My new job is giving my hemmeroids because to kill time at work I take my Blackberry into the shitter and play Brick Breaker.

Strelly, am I eligible for worker's comp?

Happy 100th

2006-10-12T10:57:00.000-07:00

I can think of no better way to celebrate the 100th Strellyblog post than by sharing with you, our fanatically loyal and fiercely retarded readers, the following CNN headline:

Pit bulls jump miniature pony, leave her bloody

Happy 100th Strelly. May your pit bulls always be out of control and your miniature ponies always bloody.

99 Bloggles of Beer on the Wall

2006-10-09T11:08:00.000-07:00

In honor of the upcoming 100th Strellyblog post coming up, we have planned a number of surprises that I hope Strelly will enjoy. Among them are: 1)An anaconda/baboon/labradoodle cage match (with chairs and 2 X 4's) to be held in
MacArthur Park; 2)A skywriter will inscribe "Strellybog's 100th Posting! A Kick in Society's Junk!" in the sky above Glendale; and 3)Strelly will be outfitted with bionic forearms so that he can punch his way through the salad bar at Sizzler.

The celebration further continues as I unveil my dog's, Moe, new ability to speak. I have taught him one sentence only, but it's apropos as shit, don't you think?

Shed a Tear

2006-10-06T15:03:00.000-07:00

Strelly and I did a little estate planning this morning over flapjacks and steak-flavored coffee. Strelly has decided that when he dies he wants a Viking funeral. He'd like his body placed in a Harold's Chicken Shack, lit on fire, and set out to drift in Lake Michigan.

Next Tuesday work for everyone? Great!

You Say Commuting...I Say Transcending

2006-10-05T11:07:00.000-07:00

A lot of folks in L.A. need caffeine first thing in the morning to handle a commute that can sometimes make the Trail of Tears seem like a tiptoe through the tulips. What makes me different? Strellyblog. That's what. You can see from this picture, not only my aura which kind of looks like a brush fire, but also that I have Strelly in my eyes, that fierce dtermination that says, "Look out traffic, or you're gonna get socked in the junk." Then when I get to work I whip myself up a frothy ribbocino (recipe: 2 spare ribs, 3 oz. soy sauce, fresh Peruvian fair trade beans), sit back, and wait for the world to end.

Biznasty

2006-10-04T12:41:00.000-07:00

Go read this blog. In fact, don't. It's a bunch of lies and half-baked horseshit. And in further fact (+2 vs. creatures with facial hair and dingleberries), if you see the purveyor of this malicious smut, let me know. I think he's trying to kill me by force feeding my Doritos and Cherry Coke and making me play Dungeons & Dragons until I can't separate reality from a +4 long sword vs. bad mescalin. Yeah, right! Like there's such a thing as bad mescalin!

Paging Dr. Strelly

2006-09-29T13:01:00.001-07:00

How ironic is it that my allergist's name is Dr. Eitches? Funny thing is, my gynocologist's name is Dr. Vulva. Weird, huh?

Strelly, congratulations again on getting your medical license. I can't wait to come in and get my vaginal rejuvenation treatment. I'm still anxious to see how you're going to do this with "fists and threats," though. But you know me. Anything to be that much tighter.

In Cars

2006-09-25T11:56:00.000-07:00

It's hard to see, but on Sunday afternoon, Ellen and I drove behind Don Magic Juan for several miles along Pico. How did we know it was him? Well, besides the fact that he was driving a lime green Caddy with gold crosses emblazoned on the back, he had his name also stenciled in gold on the back windshield.

I think this kind of self promotion is actually a pretty good idea. What's wrong with using our cars to promote our causes and identities? Strelly, your "bukake" decal is just about done. Uh, by the way, will monkey jizz come off a Volvo without ruining the paint?

Movie Pitch (Strelly Catch)

2006-09-22T11:34:00.000-07:00

Actual IM conversation between Strelly and I this morning...

donkeydate: i have a great idea for a movie.
donkeydate: guaranteed $100 million opening weekend
Jstrzel72: i probably don't want to hear this.
donkeydate: It's called "Semen". Gay porn take off of Seven
donkeydate: basically, a killer is doing all the things to people that kevin spacey did in Seven, except he's using semen as his weapon.
donkeydate: he force feeds a guy semen until he pops, he stabs a woman with frozen semen
Jstrzel72: should be a blockbuster.
donkeydate: the finale is he hooks a guy up to an IV filled with semen for a year
donkeydate: when he comes back, the guy has turned into lance bassJstrzel72: you have serious problems.
donkeydate: i'm posting this now. i think the world should know.
Jstrzel72: if you must.

Animals Gone Crazy

2006-09-20T11:33:00.000-07:00

Strelly was right, the beasts shall inherit the earth.

First we had anacondas and alligators fighting UFC style in the Florida suburbs. Yesterday we had the Chinese version of a Tiajuana donkey show. Today in the news there was an article about a panda bear that bit a child at a zoo. And then the most startling: Elizabeth Taylor in a shark cage. Why? For the love of all that is holy? Why is Liz Taylor having a shark encounter and why is this bothering me so fucking much? I'll tell you why...the animals are fighting back. Don't be surprised if you see Strelly running down Wilshire pulling a rickshaw with a monkey in it. Don't be surprised at all.

Chinese Food

2006-09-19T10:09:00.000-07:00

Strelly, this is all I can do for $50 American. Throw in another $50 and I'm pretty sure I can get the girl to strip, cover herself with chow mein, and fit the entire panda in her mouth.

Incongruity

2006-09-13T17:08:00.000-07:00

I had two non-related thoughts today I thought I'd share.

Do you remember how Rick Rude, the wrestler, would scream, "To be the man you've got to beat the man and baby (loud WHOOP!!) I'm the best there is!" That was a great thing to say.

Also, I was thinking how the prostate exam is essentially the Indian burial ground of medical exams.

Christ, I have a bad headache.

Censorship

2006-09-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

For the first time ever, I've censored myself. I had written this whole entry, stopped to read it, and then asked myself a very fundamental question: Why?

I'm sorry that you won't get a chance to take a look yourself, but just to let you know the size of the bullet I just dodged, please see the pictures that accompanied the entry. They are worth a thousand words. Truly.

I Smell Like a Filthy Animal

2006-09-06T11:46:00.000-07:00

It's weird, I know, but I smell like a shit-eating beast. I don't know what it is, or why it is, but it's true. I use deoderant everyday, slathering on a generous amount of mountain-scented gel every morning, but by 10:30 every morning I reek again.

I asked Strelly what kind of deoderant he uses. Turns out we use the same delicious scent - Mitchum. It's a potent fragrence extracted from the late actor Robert Mitchum's sweat glands, left to cure in the Redwood Forest near Big Sur, and then bottled by handicapped seniors in the City of Industry. It is a potent brew, but somehow it is still not enough to mask my furious beast-like odor. Also, its so-called mountain scent actually reminds me a lot of what the bathrooms at the Coloseum used to smell like during halftime at Raider's games.

I think the key is to switch it up. A little Mitchum one day, some Eau du Ghostface Killer other days, and for special occassions, I will attempt to convert Strelly's hate into liquid form in an old bathrub still I've set up in my linen closet, bottle it, and then have nightmares about it frequently.

Street Action

2006-09-05T10:22:00.000-07:00

We had a wonderful time Saturday night at Strelly's new glamorous loft in scenic MacArthur Park, USA. Tunes were spun, wine was drunk, accusations were flung at who is the most inappropriate and then Eric essentailly shattered all landspeed records by threatening to, at various times, push D-Rew into Strelly's oven, fuck Christine's printing press, and then speak to the cat for 45 minutes about his 911 conspiracy theories.

Later, we heard we missed some "street action." This is a special feature of Strelly's apartment building where people get shot on a regular basis outside of his window. No extra charge. Even later, there was almost some "hallway action" where Strelly had to be restrained from going Jean Claude Madman on the fabulous Asian hip-hop group that lives next door. Guys from Malaysian Mayonaise, let me give you a word of advice, no more 3am beat box and kimchee eating contests. This is not your father's Vietnam. Peace.

WW Strelly

2006-09-01T18:37:00.000-07:00

What better way to celebrate the 67th anniversary of the start of WWII than by having Japanese food with Strelly?!? Strelly came to my new office and the two of us sauntered across Olympic Blvd. to Ramenya, much like how the Nazis casually waltzed into Poland on this day in history, enslaving Strelly's peeps and preceeding to pretty much gangfuck their way through the rest of Europe. Strelly, it's always nice to reenact historical events with you. I can't wait for this weekend when, to celebrate Qatar's independence from Britain, Strelly burns my favorite burka and repairs my amateurish "4th grade" clitorectomy with some spackle and half a Baby Ruth bar. This day in history, indeed!

New Job

2006-08-31T13:45:00.000-07:00

I'm in the midst of that terrible first week at a new job where you don't quite know what to do, and you get up like 50 times to get water and go to the bathroom, and then you do some blogging and your Kegel exercises and when you look up at the clock, thinking that it's got to be 5:00 or so, it's like 10am. Fuck. But those Kegel exercises sure do feel nice.

Bowl Hole

2006-08-18T12:21:00.000-07:00

I want to live in the woods next to the Hollywood Bowl like some big, Jewish, cultured Sasquatch. I can forage for sushi and 2 Buck Chuck and throw my poop at the people in the box seats. Is that wrong?

Today is my last day at Global Green USA. It's been a wild ride. I'd like to stay, but Strelly told me that working for the environment is for fags and that if I was a real man I'd be unemployed. I took your advice, Strelly. Thanks. See you at the Bowl.

The Mutilation Station

2006-08-17T15:48:00.000-07:00

Strelly reached nirvana today with the news that a mutilated "hybrid" beast was discovered in the wilds of Maine. Not only does the discovery of the beast help catapult his obsession with mutant animals into the next stratoshpere of illogical obsessions, but it also finally completes his alternative evolutionary chart he's been working on since his days as a research scientist at Santa Monica College.

The chart goes something like this:

1. ODB
2. The Guy Who First Called His Friend "Son"
3. Phil Knight
4. The Hybrid Beast
5. People With Puerto Rican Flags On Their Car

Congratulations, Strelly. Your Nobel Prize is in the mail. If you can't find it, look under your Hate Crimes Tribunal Summons.

Handling Snakes and Shit...

2006-08-15T15:44:00.000-07:00

The power of Strellyblog is spreading. Wonderful to see. I was on assignment this weekend in Appalachia collecting stool samples of mountain folks as part of my post doc work in cultural anthropology – my thesis is entitled "Po Folk's Poo" – when I came across this gem. Don't feel bad for him, though. Cory's got no one to blame for this but himself. I tried to tell him that speaking in tongues was different than ebonics, but would he listen to me? No. No, he wouldn't. See you in hell, Cory.

My Wife Is Not A Junkie

2006-08-15T14:37:00.000-07:00

Despite what these pictures may lead you to believe, my wife is not a junkie. We at Strellyblog have a firm "We Will Not Marry Junkies" policy. Not becaue we have anything against narcotics addicts. We're just sick of getting our stereos stolen.

Man Jam

2006-08-14T14:59:00.000-07:00

Friday night's Man Jam was unfuckingbelievable. Thanks to all those that attended. I thought the opening act was pretty good: fries, 4 different types of sausage, warm beer that dripped from my mouth to the bar like an alcoholic trail of tears, and a confession that I masturbate everytime I fly over the Mason Dixon Line.

But all the really great stuff happened at the after party where I tried to match Eric beer for beer and discovered that, like an infant that tries to walk before he can crawl, I faceplanted (existentially speaking).

Strelly (pictured here for the first time!!) graciously drove me home and I was feeling all spunky and even thought of grabbing the wheel away from him at a certain point, pulling his Volva into a McDonalds drive through. I thought better of it, though, not wanting to risk a crushing neck punch that would have rendered me unconscious and permanently retarded (think street mime level intelligence).

Strelly got me home all safe and snug, but the next day I had the worst fucking hangover of my life. I literally didn't get out of bed until 6pm Saturday night, except to try unsuccessfully to vomit twice. I did finally throw up in my mouth which I celebrated like it was the birth of the baby Jesus. I felt so sick I contemplated asking my 7 1/2 month pregnant wife who doesn't drive to drive me to the hospital, or at the very least, to feed me something slightly posionous that would cause me to mercifully puke my guts all over the bathroom floor.

Luckily, I was semi-human by 6pm and well enough to go out to Korean BBQ by 7pm. Ah the wonders of the human body. To some it's a temple...to me it's the Holland Tunnel at rush hour.

In all, I wouldn't have done it any different. Man Jam is an incredible experience. I will treasure my ticket stub forever as a reminder to be thankful that, when drunk and being vile in Strelly's car, he didn't turn it into Burning Man Jam.

Strelly Sighting

2006-08-10T13:36:00.000-07:00

Had an AMAZING day with Strelly today. He came over to my office wearing this incredible Dolce & Gabana suit. He described the color as "Paris Bile." And I agree. Strelly was fresh from the courthouse where he basically pummelled some loser bureacrats with his juris prudence skills (I think he has a blackbelt in law, or something). Then, we went over to Urth Cafe and he bought me lunch. I had a chicken curry salad. Strelly had something awesome. I think it was a live possum. He tore into that thing like it was a packet of insulin and devoured it in three strange fish-like gulps. It was rad. He looked great. Just like a CAA super agent. I felt like we were "doing" lunch. I wanted the feeling to last. Don't mind telling you that I fucked an organic muffin in the bathroom. Felt like Christmas. Strelly got some crap on his hands. He took it in stride, though, grabbing our midget busboy by the shirt tails and making him lick it off, all the while whispering in ebonics, "I'm about to have my falling down moment, Paco. Keep licking." It was gnarly.

Then, we went over to Peet's Coffee where I am the current customer of the week. This entitles me to free coffee, deciding which employees have to fight in hand to hand combat, and making up my own signature drink. This week, be sure to try the new "Puerto Rican Mudslide" at your neighborhood Peet's. Tell them to go easy on the KY, though. I think they go overboard with it sometimes.

Dreamy

2006-08-09T10:37:00.000-07:00

I had a stange dream last night. I'd love to tell you that it was a Strelly-related vision, like the time I saw Strelly's face emblazoned on the head a tampon. A face that could accomodate a heavy flow. But no such luck.

Instead, the dream involved me and Scarlett Johansson at a Real World reunion. There was some indication that perhaps we had had a fling on the show. The season we were on had been "Real World: Suburbs of Santa Fe." Me, Scarlett, and the rest of the cast were in New Mexico and Scarlett brought me a gift. I unwrapped it to find a box of candies shaped like mice. I put one in my mouth and she just shook her head at me. "What?" I asked her. "Those are candles." Oh.

When I awoke this morning, I felt a little like Gregor Samson in Kafka's novel. But I didn't feel like a bug. I felt like a Scarlett Johansson stalker. Is that existential, or just illegal?

Chinese Strelly

2006-08-07T10:40:00.000-07:00

Great to see D-Rew blogging again. In the old days, back in Madison, D-Rew would make you show him your dick to partner on a project like this one. The fact that I only had to squeeze one nut through my zipper shows that he's growing up and becoming a fine young cannibal.

In Strelly news...this weekend Strelly came over bearing gifts – two bottles of Bombay Saphire, my favoirte flavor of gin. Strelly, you didn't need to do that. I already told you, any time you need help moving, a reference for the parole board, or a hand in shaving your pubes to get rid of the crabs you carry around like they were an ACLU card, I'm your man. Happy to help!

After dropping off the gin, Strelly, Lady Jeans and I all went to Genghis Cohen where we enjoyed some terrific Chinese food. I ate way too much, though, even though Strelly tried to gently chide me by slapping won tons out of my hand and poking me in the spleen with his chop sticks. I just kept eating and eating. And then I had some frozen yogurt. And then, at about 11, I had some more Chinese food. Pictured below, by the way, is not orange chicken. It's my bowel movement. Strelly, is this what a cry for help looks like?

STRELLY SUMMER

2006-08-05T15:30:00.000-07:00

It's good to be back. Over the last few months I've seen Strellyblog go through puberty, get pubic hair and gain about 50 lbs. Other blogs about Strelly (pinkpantsindex and strellyfucker) have come and gone, but strellyblog has moved on, beating anti-trust charges, adding blogish photos and growing a mustashe. My partner The Green Genius deserves all the credit.
Here's to you, you tall Jew.

Animals

2006-08-04T16:03:00.000-07:00

There couldn't really be a collective TGIF sigh at Strellyblog without the obligatory nod to our friends in the enlarged animal kingdom. These two specimens from my father who lives in Tampa Bay. 47 rattlesnakes and an 18 foot alligator found in a culvert near Orlando. In the civilized world, we'd call that the first and second sign of the apocalypse, respectively. In Florida, it's justice. In Strelly's mind, it's the animal kingdom's equivalent of the Wu Tang Clan.

FHC

2006-08-03T16:10:00.000-07:00

Strelly makes fun of me a lot for eating these. This from a guy who has more pairs of shoes than he does scruples. Strelly, I challenge you to a Cheet-off. First one who stops pissing blood wins. When we're done, we'll both look like the kid pictured below. Can you imagine what his farts smell like? Like a mixture of White Out and ovarian cancer. Poor kid.

Thunderdome

2006-08-03T10:24:00.000-07:00

Another guy who undoubtedly loves to party on the Sunset Strip.

Speaking of Mel Gibson, I've always thought that Thunderdome is the perfect metaphor for what it must be like inside of Strelly's head. Two men enter, one anti-semite leaves.

Rock Out

2006-08-02T11:45:00.000-07:00

Last night, Strellyblog co-author, D-Rew and I went out to the Key Club to see our friend Dylan's band play. We kind of missed most (all) of Dylan's set because we had to eat first. We had some terrific pho at Pho-bulous on La Cienega, by the way, in case anyone wants to get down bamboo-under-your-fingernails-style.

The Sunset Strip is a weird place. It's also kind of a sad place since Motley Crue became slightly less popular than they were 35 years ago. Gone are the days of ass pants, huffing shoe polish, and chicks with skyscraper hairstyles. Now there's just a bunch of new metal retards who sit around shooting steroids out front of the Rainbow Room, giving each other high fives every six seconds like they're constantly congratulating each other just for being alive. Then there are a bunch of very skinny indie dudes who are always brushing back their greasy hair and pretending not to want to fuck the high school aged girls who are the only ones who come out to see their shows. It's a creepy scene. A place Hitler might have partied had he been into rock, lived in L.A., and wasn't a Nazi war-mongerer.

D-Rew and I strode into the Key Club, had a few drinks, tried to find change to feed the meter and then left as this terrible band called "Ready, Set, Go" finished singing a song whose chorus went, "When I come (i.e. cum) deep inside, it's like a little slice of suicide. I want to fuck you raw." I shit you not.

The highlight of the evening, though, was when Dylan excused himself to go to the bathroom by saying, "I gotta go number one real bad. In fact, I gotta go number 1,000."

Moving Strelly

2006-07-31T11:38:00.000-07:00

This weekend I spent a number of back-breaking hours helping Strelly move into his new digs in the American Cement Company building. Overlooking scenic MacArthur Park (i.e. scenic insofar as watching a guy get shanked with a broken crack pipe shard is scenic), Strelly's new pad is a phenomenal loft, giving him more than 1,400 square feet to do in what Strelly does best - hate.

One of the items Strelly and I moved was a 1,200 pound printing press belogning to one Lady Strelly. Moving the press, which was accomplished with the help of a manual pallet jack, caused me to not only urinate blood, but to also speculate that we may have positioned said press a little to close to the window as I suspect it's only a matter of time (hours, more like it) before Strelly gets a little "wet", strips off all his clothes, and shoves the press out the window, crushing the one-armed homeless guy 5 stories below who tried to "help us" move. Strelly will then scream at the elementary school across the street: "Mel Gibson was right!" before plunging his cell phone into his own abdomen as his Wu Tang ring tone chirps CREAM from somewhere deep inside him.

If this doesn't happen, scenario two involves Strelly meeting up with his Asian, hip-hop neighbor, challenging him to a fight on the roof after the two scuffle over an unaddressed copy of "Source" magazine in the mail room. I predict Strelly will win it in two rounds.

Lunch (or, My Own Worst Enema)

2006-07-21T13:13:00.000-07:00

I faced my fears today and ate at the taco truck (see yesterday's post). I ordered a vegetarian burrito and was quite pleasantly surprised by the taste, texture, and authenticity of the diaharrea I'm sure is about to strike me like one of Zeus' thunder bolts in 15 minutes.

Strelly, as we all know, is frequently afflicted by the big D. It is his cross to bear. Sometimes he just has to look at a taco and his gut starts 'a blubberin like his small intestines were the La Brea tar pits. Still, he likes to comment a lot on the foods that I eat. Today, Strelly, I am giving you an eyewitness account of lunch. I would hate to deprive you. I'll see you at my place later. I'll be the guy bathing in a tub filled with Pepto Bismol. That thing floating near the surface will not be a luffa. It is my prostate. Happy weekend.

Training Wheels

2006-07-20T10:17:00.000-07:00

Wow. So, I've been in database training this whole week. Every day I have to drive down to an office park by LAX, sit in a classroom for 8 hours, and learn about Raiser's Edge, the database par excellence for fundraisers. This place is a fucking nightmare. If zombies took over the earth, they would not come to this Raiser's Edge training, deciding instead to eat the flesh of the living at an actuary's convention, or even a minor league baseball game in Nebraska. In short, this is the ass end of existence. The eating options are as follows (in order of nutritional value): Subway, a taco truck with neon lettering on the side, a Chinese deli (pastrami on egg roll, anyone?), and Starbucks. You can actually get a pretty complete meal at Starbucks: sandwich, coffee, and banana nut loaf. For those of you who count carbs, that'd be somewhere in the neighborhood of a googleplex. Eating at Ideal Foods (see top left), however, is like dipping your cock in a vat of Drakkar Noir, lighting the tip on fire, and then peeing out a stream of urine-fire at your sister while screaming "Celine Dion's in my urethra" the whole time. Strelly did that once at Caesar's Palace because he thought it was Caesarian Palace.

Blue Light Sadness

2006-07-13T14:45:00.000-07:00

There are things that occur in nature that are said to be unique. The human fingerprint, the swirls of a butterfly's wing, and Cory's unblemished hymen, just to name a few.

Yesterday, I received a paniced call from the nearly unflappable Strelly (remember -- this is a guy who had his 6th birthday party at a Tijuana dog fight). He told me that he had just returned from a visit to K-Mart and then the blabbering started. It was hard to tell if he was crying, laughing, or fellating a camel, but I got the meaning. He had been deeply effected by what he had witnessed. "The smells," he whined to me like he was one of Dr. Kevorkian's patient begging for that last little dose of mercy. "You know the anger I have inside of me, right?" he whispered. "Yes," I replied, a little awestruck. "It smelled like that," came back the terrified confession. Christ.

He painted a picture that would have made Bosch squeal in fright: dirt floors, donkeys raping cashiers, Thalydimide babies throwing up gang signs in the aisles, and the smell...he couldn't get past that odor. "I thought I had smelled it all during my 4th tour of duty in Iraq..."

There are things that occur in nature that are said to be unique. K-Mart is one of them despite the startling similarities it bears to a Palestinian refugee camp.

I pitied my friend yesterday as he cried helplessly, headbutting his Volvo until he could feel nothing, and I thought, with hindsight, about saying, "You should have gone to Target," which, in Albanian, means "I love you."

Cross-Breeding

2006-07-12T14:11:00.000-07:00

Happy news! Today, Strelly became the first person to successfully crossbread a tiger and a lion. That's right, a LIGER, the mythical beast made famous by Napolean Dynamite (not to mention a frequent tormentor in my dreams). This is also a very exciting development, because now Strelly finally has a challenger for the Anaconda that ate that alligator a few months back. A moment that truly changed his life (see Strellyblog entry "Huge Animals" - Wednesday, October 26, 2005).

Next on Strelly's TO DO genetic splicing list is his plan to crossbreed the new model of Air Jordan's with Mary Lou Retton's uterus, giving him once and for all a shoe so flexible and aeronautically inclined that he will finally be able to kick his own ass.

Pink Crocs

2006-07-12T11:32:00.000-07:00

I think I've found the perfect Labor Day present for Strelly. Do you think he'll like them? I know the guy can barely contain his enthusiasm for being able to dress in dark colors again come the end of summer, but I really think this flash of tasteful elegance is just the thing to say, "Hello world! I'm Strelly and I'm fabulous and I'm pretty in pink." And besides, can you imagine Strelly kicking someone in the junk with these puppies on? A real delight.

As Strelly begins to clean out the old place on new Hampshire, his thoughts turn to simpler days when he owned little more than a beat box and some Kangol leiderhosen. He's thinking about going down that sad, monkish road again. Strelly, I'm with you man. Simplification is the key. I can barely wait to drive by you as you huddle under the 101 overpass at Vermont, humming Raekwon spirituals to yourself, and mumbling about how you think Marc Jacobs is the antichrist. If there's ever been a sign that the apocolypse is nigh, that's it.

Head-butter

2006-07-10T09:56:00.000-07:00

So, I was watching the World Cup Final yesterday, and I was all into Viva la France and shit. It was hard to pick a side, but I decided to go with the French after remembering that they hadn't joined the coalition of the willing at the beginning of this Iraq shit. I really had nothing else to go on. I mean, France and Italy? Where's the bad guy? Sure, you can point at the carbs in pasta and say to the TV screen, "Fuck you Mussolini. I blame these kissing thighs on your ass." But really, who can muster the energy even to care just a little.

Therefore, I picked the French to root for. Libertines, gluttons, enthusiasts for graduate school and striking...but then the headbutt. What the fuck is up with Europeans and their penchant for slamming their heads into each other? I can barely picture a Brit, for example, getting into a fight without slamming their head into the face of their opponent, leaving them bloody and stumbling around. What's with these Europeans? Haven't they ever heard of a roundhouse, an uppercut, or even a crescent kick for the love of all that is holy? The 10 Euro note should just be a picture of a guy headbutting his mother, strudel and opera tickets flying in the background.

And then I thought of Strelly. This guy loves to headbutt. Sometimes, I will put up my dukes in a mock fighting stance and then you can see the little glint in his eyes as Strelly lowers his head like an angry Polish bull, get down low, and then come galloping in to land his hard carnium against my shoulder. It hurts. That's why the Europeans do it. Because it fucking hurts. Poland, you mighty land of headbutters and sausage, I salute you.

I Killed the Crow

2006-07-07T16:15:00.000-07:00

Strelly was saddened today to learn of the death of the world's oldest crow. It's name was Enos or some shit like that. Enos worked at a Taco Bell in Encino and loved to watch Jackie Chan movies when he wasn't busy shitting on your car and making loud, strangulated noises at 5am. Enos will be missed by Strelly.

However, what Strelly doesn't know is that I killed his precious crow with my mind. I discovered I had this power once when I was stranded on the can without TP and was able to use my telekenesis to levitate a dish towel into my hand.

Eat a bag of shit, Enos.

Belle and Sebastian

2006-07-07T10:06:00.000-07:00

As promised, some really bad pix of last night's Belle and Sebastian/The Shins concert at the Hollywood Bowl. Sorry for the quality. It's these damnable picture phones. Next time, I promise wood carvings. Duhrer style, bitch!

The show was amazing. The Shins were kind of inconsequential to the evening. Good band, but it felt like they were a bit overwhelmed in that large of a space. B&S were terrific. That little bixexual lead singer of theirs was bouncing all over the stage like he was hopped up on crank-laced haggis. They played a lot of their great tunes, and Drew and I speculated that they might have been recording the performance for a live album. The LA Philharmonic backed them up and usually I hate culture, but it was great to have the orchestra behind them on the songs.

A couple of highlights:
>The lead singer brought a woman up on stage to dance with during "Jonathan David." When he asked her her name, she replied "Baby Bee-otch." After the song, he returned her to her seat and commented, "That Baby Bee-otch really wore me out." The greatest single line ever spoken with a Scottish accent.

>The missus packed a wonderful picnic, complete with salami sandwiches, cherries, and potato chips. She was quite a sport despite almost going into early labor from climbing the hill to the Bowl in near-Tropic heat.

All in all it was a great night. Strelly, my friend, you were well missed. Remind me again why you weren't there. Oh yeah, because you weren't invited. Thanks, Drew. Thanks for nothing.

Crustacean Munching, Bib Wearing...

2006-07-06T17:08:00.000-07:00

I went to the venearable old L.A. steak and lobster inistitution, The Palm, for the first time last night. It was pretty good. I watched my glorious wife tear through half of a 5 lb. lobster like it wasn't shit, which really put me in a good mood.

The reason I bring this up is because I would love see Strelly in a lobster bib. Between that and his obsession with animals that fight, Strelly's infantalism really makes him seem less like a icon and more like a real person to me. Strelly, The Palm awaits.

This, That, and the Other Thing

2006-07-06T10:38:00.000-07:00

I just realized that I forgot to comment on how fucking, unbelievably hot it was in Palm Springs this weekend. Well, it's hard to describe it really, but you know that feeling when you open the oven to check on how your rhubarb cobbler is doing and that blast of heat hits your face, and then your mom comes over and "accidentally" bumps you so that your face touches the hot metal and you're scarred for life like you're a Rocky Dennis impersonator? It was hotter than that. As you can see from the picture above, my travelling companion's nuts (let's call him Michael - I usually don't like to give my drifters names, but in the interest of frankness...) burst into flames while we were waiting for AAA to come and throw on a spare after we drove over a nail. And by the way, where I'm from we call Baptists nails.

Tonight we're off to the Hollywood Bowl for a little Rock and Roll R&R with Belle and Sebastian. Nothing says step into summer fun like gazing at your shoes as they melt into the concrete. Pictures tomorrow. Peace, god.

All Apologies

2006-07-05T11:18:00.000-07:00

My apologies to all those yesterday who bore witness to my gastric inadequacies. When I ate at that macrobiotic restaurant the other night, I wasn't quite sure what macrobiotic meant. Now I have come to understand that it is Navajo for, "horribly explosive diarrhea."

Happy 4th of July, Suckers!

2006-06-30T16:21:00.000-07:00

Happy 4th of July from your friends at Strellyblog. What are your plans? Personally, I am going down to Palm Springs where I've heard temperatures will soar to a comfortable 115 degrees. Lovely. Can a person sweat from their man box? I'll have an answer for you on Tuesday.

I'll be celebrating the actual 4th, though, at a couple of BBQ's with some good friends (i.e. Strelly). Have you ever seen Strelly choke a busta' with a lit sparkler? Now that's independence.

I'd like to leave you with a quote from a new book called "The Alphabet of Manliness." I don't know what it is, but a friend of mine just forwarded this and it made me laugh pretty hard. Enjoy.

"The baby seemed like he was loving [the hot sauce] at first, but suddenly he started crying, so I did what I always do when babies cry: I put him in the garbage can. His mom started yelling and screaming, then she tried to punch me, so I stepped to the side and she accidentally tripped and fell down four flights of stairs, and then she accidentally got peed on."

Babar

2006-06-29T13:58:00.000-07:00

I was just talking with Strelly about the blog. And I know it's breaking the rules a little bit, but I asked the man what he'd like to see happen with it. We talked about commercial sponsorship, going pro, our inevitable dependency on steroids, and eventually, our career as a frenetic streetwalker with enormous forearms and a shrunken sac, and basically decided that no, we would not sell out.

I said to the man, "Strelly, what would Strelly like to see on the blog today?"

There was a long pause, and he finally typed back, "Rush Limbaugh."

"No," I typed back. "I can't do it. I know that it's Strelly Choice Thursday, but I just can't bring myself..."

"Yeah yeah yeah," he interrupted me with a volley of southside racial slurs. "Whatever. How about the 75th anniversary of Babar then."

"Uh huh," I thought to myself. "That I can handle."

So, Babar. From all your friends at Strellyblog. Happy 75th birthday, you fat fuck. Now why don't you go back to France and blow yourself.

Happy now, Strelly?

Bootlegger

2006-06-28T11:14:00.000-07:00

Some guy in my office just turned me on to this site. And no, for the first time, it's not porn. Although I defy you to show me something on the internet that can't be used as a tool for sexual gratification. Except whitehouse.gov. I don't swing that way.

Anyway, this site let's you search every mp3 posting on the internet, allows you to listen instantaneously, or gives you the link to the site where it was posted so you can download it. Pretty cool. Now Strelly can get all those Mayhem bootlegs he's been jonesing after for so long.

http://hype.non-standard.net/

Hardcore

2006-06-27T10:43:00.000-07:00

Strelly is so hardcore. You think that's him in the donkey suit, right? Wrong. He's the chick. Yes, that hardcore.

Weltschmerz

2006-06-26T17:07:00.000-07:00

I learned a new German word today. Weltschmerz. And although there is no exact English translation, roughly speaking it means "the pain of existence." Listen, Krauts. Strelly doesn't need you Germans to tell him in one long word what he can tell the rest of us through his barely conscious, hate-filled gaze. Fuck those strudel eaters! Also, Weltschmerz happened to be the name of Strelly's second grade tee-ball team. Go team!

Bacchanalia Etc.

2006-06-26T09:33:00.000-07:00

A few dim photos taken with a camera phone from this weekend's TGIF bacchanalia. I especially love the one of Eric doing his new interprative dance entitled, "Fisting the Salsa." That guy is so multi-ethnic on so many levels. I just wish he'd stop trying to fuck his TV everytime the World Cup comes on.

Other highlights from the evening:
- Drew's cell phone sexually abused Eric's cell phone (pictured above);
- Cory will alienate every waiter in the joint, ensuring that your tapas will be covered in a fine layer of urine before you can say, "Fava Bean";
- Text messaging Strelly the word "cock" over and over is the funniest thing since Rodney King begged for racial harmony on TV; and lastly
- Having someone simulate two drive-by shootings on you within the span of half an hour tends to induce sobriety.

Happy Monday.

Bars and Stars

2006-06-23T10:08:00.000-07:00

Strelly, I found this great new bar for us to check out. The scene, quite frankly, is a little "gay," but the bartender is super cool. He hooked me up with Blue Curacao sours all night, and when I finally threw up in my own wallet and passed out in his tip jar, he let me sleep it off on the floor and even took me to church the next morning where I got to speak in tongues and handle snakes. At least, he told me it was a snake.

Last night I heard on the news that a bunch of home-grown Al Qaeda folks were arrested for plotting terrorist acts in Miami and Chicago. Now, I know how we all feel about Florida, so I won't even touch upon that. But Chicago? Strelly's hometown? Those terrorists better thank their lucky stars that the Feds caught them before Strelly got his hands on them. Ever seen an airplane fly straight into a fella's junk? Not pretty. I assure you.

TGIF

2006-06-22T14:14:00.000-07:00

I wish you could join us for a little TGIF celebration tomorrow night, Strelly. I plan to fuck a bowl of guacamole in honor of the weekend. You can't imagine how green my dick is going to get. SOOOOO GREEEEEN!!!!

Back In Wack

2006-06-22T10:46:00.000-07:00

Strelly, do you know what it feels like to be a woman? Take a look at the mug on this pooch. That'll get you pretty close. Later, we'll practice.

Wow. It's been a long time. It's like I've been in another universe, or something, or just was trying to trick myself into believing that I didn't need Strellyblog as much as I know I do.

But being back feels nice.

It feels real good.

Like my keyboard is a glory hole and these words are...uh...I guess these words would be my dick. In that case...uh...bad simile. My apologies.

Still, welcome back. Know what I mean?

A lot has changed in the last couple of months. Babies are on the way and a plan for world cohabitation is laid out. Strelly still confronting his demons on almost a daily basis. Snorkling in Hawaii. Demons snorkling nearby.

Seriously, Strelly. I'd like to see some pix of you in a grass skirt, sipping a virgin Mai Tai while pushing Christine's family one by one into the maw of a frothing volcano. I know how you get down, buddy. I know how you do.

2006-03-06T14:19:00.000-08:00

I don't know what to say about this. Strelly, your stipilism is unparalleled. You're like Van Gogh with the ear but without the penis.

Shame

2006-02-21T11:39:00.000-08:00

"Sew up your vagina and go back to your party."

I feel shame. Deep deep shame. And for that, I thank you Strelly.

Pride and Prejudice (with emphasis on the prejudice)

2006-02-15T13:35:00.000-08:00

The other night, the missus and I went to see Pride and Prejudice, the latest take on the Jane Austen novel starring the immaculately thin Keira Knightly and like 12 gay guys. Their names are inconsequential. Donald Sutherland was in it, too. FYI - I consider him one of the aforementioned gay guys.

So, in the middle of this period piece (I saw no blood, menstrual or otherwise. Complete misnomer.) I stepped out to go to the bathroom and was approached by the rotund, Hispanic usher. For the sake of this story, I'm going to go ahead and call him Pueblo. Not Pablo. He's that big.

Pueblo: "So, you like the movie?"
Me: "Uh. No. Not really."
Pueblo shaking his head: "I know, man. I know."
Me: "You've got some nerve peddling this filth, you Mexican pimp."
Pueblo, laughing, giddy, shaking like a filthy pinata: "I have this idea..."

Uh-oh, I'm thinking. This is where he takes me into the storeroom and reinacts certain scenes from Maria Full of Grace. I'm not sure I'm game, though I can be talked into anything.

Pueblo: "I want to create a room right off the lobby and I want to fill it with whores and liquor and weed and shit..."

Now I feel bad. I shouldn't have rushed to judgement on this porky little visionary. I listen with ears wide open. Hopeful even.

Pueblo: "...and then guys can leave the movie right at the beginning and just chill in the room and then at the end, right before the movie finishes, they come out and tears are running down their faces cause they've just left like the best place in the world. Then they go back to their seats just as the end credits are rolling and their girlfriends think they're crying because of the movie."

I am shaking.

Pueblo: "What do you think?"

Me: "You want to create a speakeasy/whorehouse/opium den in a movie theater so that dudes don't have to sit through chick flicks? Is that what you're telling me."

He nods his head. His pudgy face beams proudly.

Me: "I think you're the Steven Hawking of keeping it real. Now come sit on my lap so that I can touch myself and cry into your butter stained shirt."

Oh. Strelly was invited to the movie. He didn't come. He missed this.

Retrospective

2006-02-06T14:19:00.000-08:00

Chilli, guacamole-flavored chips, salsa in industrial-sized containers, rolling couches, rugs to trip over, three TV's for every man, woman and child. Beer and bocci. Wine to take because Strelly doesn't drink swine. Dessert trays. Cory is in debt. Babies leave early. Money changes hands with lightning speed. Bulgarians are rich. Darkness decends. The crowd roars. Go home.

HONOR IN CRITICISM

2006-01-31T14:22:00.000-08:00

I remember when I was a younger man, smoking stolen cigarettes, getting to 2nd base and proclaiming "If you've got something to say, say it to my face!" to rival unruly youth. I was naive. I should never have started smoking, and I should have let people talk behind my back. Saying things to peoples faces usually results in either a fight an annoying conversation or someone thinking you're a dick.

Recently, I've been accused of being a shit talker. I find this accusation to be sort of true, but also inconsequential. Sure I talk some shit from time to time, but mostly I'm just speaking the truth to someone of a like mind. I'm venting a frustration that's not worth forcing a conflict over, like Ghandi would have done. Nevertheless I decided to wipe my mouth as a late new years resolution. Like anyone struggling to fight off an addiction I sought out the help of a friend also looking to quit with me. Enter Strelly.

Strelly and I are no longer talking shit, but we've agreed saying things to peoples face is also unagreeable. I dated a girl once who was always hoping to talk about issues that I saw as non issues or mild issues. I wish she would have just talked shit about me to her friends. Our relationship may have lasted. Sure I have problems with peoples attitudes and positions from time to time, but from now on I'll maintain a silent frustration.

MARC JACOBS SWEATER

2006-01-12T11:47:00.000-08:00

Strelly had a lovely birthday party last night at Malo Cantina on Sunset Blvd. The Doctor was there with the Bulgarian. GreenJeans and Mo's Momma where there. The Comedian and the Venezuelan were there, and the Chef and the Chef's Babies Momma where there. The whole event was put on by The Painter, and I brought My Babies Momma and My Baby. Everyone was in good spirits. Conversation was abound. Talk of Alito, Howard Stern and Killing Hookers peppered the air. Tacos were served. Tacos were eaten. No one was crying. Finally it came to gift opening time. Everyone gave Strelly lovely gifts and he was humble and thankful. Finally it was time to open the Chef and The Chef's Babie's Momma's gift. What's this a Marc Jacobs bag?

There was a silence in the air. Strelly fought off the smile that was slowly creeping across his bearded face. His Polish hands carefully opened the branded box. As the box opened I swear I saw an Angel flying out. Inside was a lovely lovely Marc Jacobs sweater. Everyone elses gift was now toilet paper. Strelly fought back a tear. I heard the Doctor mumble the words, "dick ass Chef family". It was all over. The only thing left to do was to leave.

Torch Song Illogy

2006-01-11T10:18:00.000-08:00

Just think. 47 years ago today, Strelly was dog paddling his way down his mother's love canal, fighting through the brats and Old Style gathered there like broken down Chevy's along Dead Man's Curve. Picture him, his angry little fists socking her junk from the inside out, his face set in a perma-grimace that we would all come to later love and fear simultaneously. He gathers his own umbilical cord in those angry hands and uses it to whip his back like a baby Shi'ite fundamentalist. He is conditioning himself for the pain that he knows life will bring. Then, he sees light through that glistening slit. He grits his teeth and claws his way into the arms of a smirking, WOMAN doctor. He lets out a thunderous cry - it will be the last time he ever emotes that much in his life. They snip the cord and place him into the hands of his crying mom. Her first born son, her treasure...is he cutting himself?

Happy birthday, Strelly. You've earned it.

Birthday Boy

2006-01-09T16:11:00.000-08:00

It's almost Strelly's birthday. It's there. Right around the corner. Kneeling and snarling at you like a tranny hooker you've just clocked in the jaw after a so-so blowjob. "Make your voice go higher," you told shim. "This isn't going to work if I know you're a man." Still, you manage to blow your Raisenettes all over that Brokeback Mountain and now it wants to get paid. "Paid?" you scream, clocking shim once in the jaw, doing barely any damage because as you should have known, this one's made of steel, this one has chompers like the jaws of life, this one could chew through its handcuffs and punch out 6 cops before the darts started working. Anyway, now you've got a bundle of trouble on your hands. Are you ready? Put away your pecker, little man. Get ready for the kind of retribution that makes the Apoalypse seem like an E-Ticket ride.

That's what Strelly's birthday is like. What do you think I should get him?

STRELLY THROWS AN AMAZING NEW YEARS DINNER

2006-01-04T11:55:00.000-08:00

Wow I'm fucking impressed. I went to Strelly's house for New Years eve, and Strelly totally threw down an amazing New Years dinner. From the moment I walked in it was like, Snap!, Blamm-o!, Pop!, Bitch! I was drinking wine and shit. I was talking to people and they were talking to me. I was having CONVERSATION! There was food to eat. IT WAS YUMMY!!! Wait? Something was different this about this party? Wait, oh what? Oh there weren't any bizarro west side hippie friends of friends of friends. Just other dicks like me. A dick could really be a dick at Strellys New Years event. I'm a dick.

Dream

2006-01-04T09:40:00.000-08:00

I had a Strelly related dream the other night. A rare occurance. Something, I hope, bodes well for the new year.

I dreamt I lived in this big house with Strelly who was either my brother or a live-in masseuse (not entirely clear). He was missing and I went searching for him in our kitchen. I opened one of the cabinets and it was full of empty Raisin Bran boxes. I started pulling the boxes out, one after another, until I finally discovered Strelly bound at the hands and feet with Scotch tape. He also had a Scotch tape gag on. I unbound my brother/masseuse and we decided to find the guy that did this to him. When we finally caught him, Strelly and I proceeded to gleefully kick him to death. I later, under police questioning, rolled over on Strelly for a lighter sentence.

What does this tell me about myself and Strelly?

A) Strelly can be easily stopped with a few tears of cheap adhesive (the same way a shark can be stopped by punching it on the nose)

B) Kellogg's brand cereals are somehow very threatening to me

C) I will narc on anyone to stay out of the hooskow

Happy New Year!!

Lonely Traveller

2005-12-16T10:21:00.000-08:00

"The Heart is a lonely hunter."
-Carson McCullers

"You're Unbelievable."
-EMF

"Bitch, set me up."
-The Honorable Marion Barry

These three quotes pretty much summed up my feelings when I heard that Strelly was going to drive to Northern California and back this weekend by himself. There's a lot to do and see in this great, golden state of ours and driving up the 5 freeway to fetch some high quality shelving units from a speed dealer named Sparky is really the perfect opportunity to take it all in. Not only is Strelly going to break his own continuous masturbation record by "stuffing his Christmas stocking" for 5 straight hours, but he's also going to bear witness to the following glories of the road:

1) Cowschvitz - You smell it coming. You sense it in the air. The flies are big and thick and they cuss at you with a gutterral Philipino flare before they smash into your windshield. They're glad they're dead. You'll wish you were, because as you round the bend and look out to the East you'll see an enormous field filled with thousands of cows waiting to be slaughtered and used in dog food or as props in those strangely erotic Carl's Jr. commercials where the guy rubs his bovine mistress trying to get her to poop out ice cream like she was a soft serve machine. The smell is overrwhleming. You're tempted at once to drop your drawers to see if you've accidentally shat out every ounce of hamburger meat you've ever eaten. Instead, all you find are skid marks. Welcome to Cowschvitz.

2) Altamont - Strelly will enjoy reenacting the Hells Angels beating death of a hippie at the famous 60's concert venue. He will take the part of both the hippie and the Hells Angel simultaneously never once stopping his furious "anger rubbing."

3) Anderson's Split Pea - This is really just an enormous truck stop in Buelton where white trash can buy souvenirs and check for "authentic" glory holes. Strelly will order some of the famous split pea soup, spit the scalding liquid into the face of a nearby child and scream, "This shit tastes like chlymidia!" And then he'll leave a "Christmas Bonus" for his waitress.

4) Golden Gate Bridge - Great place to kill yourself. Hitting the water from that height is like wearing black face to Al Sharpton's surprise birthday party. In the 8 seconds it takes to hit the bottom, you'll look out over that marvelous vista that is this great state of mine and think to yourself, "Is it time to stop rubbing myself?"

Enjoy your drive, Strelly. We're with you in spirit.

Christmas Dreams, Yo

2005-12-08T10:53:00.000-08:00

What do you get the Strelly that has everything? I'm going to do a little Christmas shopping this weekend...pick up a few things for the missus, members of my family I still talk to, etc.

So, the question is, what do you get a guy like Strelly for Christmas? Psychically/emotionally, he clearly has all he needs. This dude if fulfilled. But there are the material needs that should not go unnoticed. That's what I'm concerned about. His needs.

The other day I tricked Strelly into writing a letter to Santa by telling him I was planning on hijacking a cigarette truck and would need an alibi. It confused him long enough that I was able to "hijack his dreams of a white Christmas." Here's what the letter said:

Dear Santa,

L.A. is fucked up, yo. I mean, no snow, no hail, no elderly people slipping on ice and freezing to death on the RR tracks until a train comes along and smashes them into a million frozen pieces like they were an octagenarian Big Stick. Sometimes I miss the Midwest. I miss the redness and the chafing. No, wait...that's what I miss about WeHo. Anyway, I made a little list and if you could see your way clear to hooking me up with some of this junk I'd be, like, eternally grateful and all that shit. Also, if ODB is up there with you in heaven as your head elf, then that's cool, too. He'll be able to decipher the majority of this shit.

1) I want a new mountain bike with machine guns mounted on the front and an electric saw that comes out the side. This is so I can "bust bitches up" on my way home from work. Traffic bums me out. Murder does not.

2) Wu-Tang Christmas Nasties Vol. 1. This is where ODB can help you out. I know there are a few copies of this joint floating around and I need one. It'll complete my collection of obscure hip hop carrolling and will also satisfy my urge to hear Meth sing the Dradle song.

3) Peace on Earth. No, I'm just playing, yo. That one doesn't count. How about hooking a brother up with a Miu Miu butt plug?

4) Last but not least, I'd like the Anthrax tour bus to break down outside my house and for Scott and boys to knock at my door. I'd give them egg nog and cookies and we'd sit around the fire reminiscing about the good old days when groups like PE and Anthrax could get together and really change shit by expressing racial harmony through song. Then, when they're not looking, I'd take an ax and chop up every one of them and serve them to my friends on Christmas eve. After dinner, when everyone is sitting back and patting their tummies, I'd start laughing and jump on top of the table and scream, "You're eating Anthrax everyone! Merry Christmas!"

And that's all I want for Christmas.

Love,
Strelly

BABY SONGS

2005-12-07T17:20:00.000-08:00

I was singing Little Bunny Foo Foo to my new born son and I wondered, what songs will Strelly sing to his children. After some careful deliberation I narrowed it down to two likely possibilities.

1)Raining Blood by Slayer
or
2) Sex for the Sport by Channel Live

On a side note I also wondered when a Rapper would adopt the handle "Lil Bunny Foo Foo."

Thought We Lost You...

2005-12-05T17:10:00.000-08:00

Strellyblog means a lot of things to a lot of people. To some it's the "ethereal" 13th step that's only whispered about at AA keggers and glory holes. To others it's a welcome diversion after a long day of huffing shoe polish and alphabetizing their collection of German smooth jazz music. To me, its a chance to philosophize on this state of being we here at Strellyblog refer to as Strelly-amorphism. That is, Strelly as the center of the universe. A black hole with a beard devouring us all into its exponentially expanding maw, like a gigantic outlet mall that keeps getting bigger and bigger and Polisher as the seconds tick away. I was only philosophical becuase earlier today there was a period of a few clicks of the refresh button where we thought we might have lost the blog and that really would have been a shame. I can already hear some of you haters, your breath fetid with the stench of malt liquor and egg nog lattes, "They had it coming to them," and "He's had his 15 minutes AND a bag of chips." But you people are missing the point. Strelly is bigger than that. He's more than just a person, an idea, a bunch of soggy tissues under the bed. He's bigger than all that. We're glad he's here. We're glad the refresh button finally brought us back to this little slice of heaven we like to call...STRELLYBLOG

Get Busy

2005-12-01T14:01:00.000-08:00

Look, I'm no Strelly. I know that. I'm not the kind of deluded fool that would just snap on a Kangol hat, jump behind some turntables, and start spinning some phat underground beats so vivacious and rocking they give women instant sonic hysterectomy's. I'm not that man. I do, however, have the talent to recognize brilliance and that is why I've asked Strelly to partner with me in a yet to be determined business venture that will no doubt shake the very core of capitalist society or at the very least land us in a luxurious white collar prison where we will be spoonfed Tofutti Cuties by traffic offenders and play horeshoes until we get carpal tunnel syndrome in our joan's.

Anyway, here are a few of the ideas we've bandied about thus far. We'd love to hear what you think:

1) Vengence Capital - This is an idea wherein we would provide money to people who need cash to get revenge on people who've fucked up their lives. Exes, bosses, scoutmasters...it doesn't matter. You'll be paying so much interest to us that we'll have to reposses your first born and use it as a doorstop.

2) Bro-Jo - A chain of gay-oriented Karate dojo's. We will teach gay men how to use nunchuks, apply all manner of arm bars, and how to use Astro-Glide as an offensive weapon.

3) Mercy Killing, Inc. - This is really more a hobby than anything else.

I've got the fever to get incorporated...Strelly-style!

Strelly Hunt

2005-11-28T17:00:00.000-08:00

Sorry to the six of you that read this on a regular basis for the delay in postings. There's been a lot of action at Strellyblog central as of late that's kept us pretty busy.

There were some rumors, for example, that Strelly was briefly dating a recently detached Jessica Simpson that took us on a wild goose chase to Haiti. After participating in a couple of food riots we found out that the rumors are all untrue and that Strelly is really just producing a Broadway adaptation of "The Serpent and the Rainbow," and was on location to do a little casting, as well as participate in a cleansing voodoo ceremony which required that he lube himself with mescalin. Our paths just missed crossing when Strelly was evacuated on Diddy's hovercraft as I hurled cans of pinto beans at the two of them.

Then we heard rumors that Strelly was in the Appalachian Mountains doing a little hill training for his run at next year's Tour de France. Well, we once again packed our rucksacks and headed down to Dixieland in search of our social Sasquatch. Unfortunately, our frequent flyer miles on Air Incest were for not, as those rumore were debunked as well. Turns out that Strelly is merely supervising the marketing campaign of his new brand of monnshine, "Polish Potion #9," which is going to target Jews and kindergarteners with some product placement in the new Woody Allen and Baby Einstein movies respectively.

Anyway, our spirits slightly crushed, we returned home again empty-handed. We smelled the man. We came close to the odor of apathy he wears around his neck like the red badge of courage. BUT NO DICE. Then, the other night at Malo, a favorite upscale Tacqueria in Silver Lake, we found him, manhandling Paris Hilton with a hot enchilada and forcing her head into bottle after bottle of tequila to retrieve worms for him to use at the Bass Masters competition in Georgia next weekend. Bassmasters! You fish, homey? Of course you fish. You're fucking Strelly!!

From Hereonin...

2005-11-03T15:42:00.000-08:00

From this point forward, I swear the following oath to Strellyblog:

1) I will no longer detail Strelly's close encounters with "junk." It disturbs him and he feels as though it paints him a light that makes him seem like he is a junk bigot. I can testify that Strelly loves all junk, and would never actually strike a junk. That one junk in Bangkok "fell down some stairs"/"was asking for it" depending on who you ask.

2) I swear to cease and desist the marketing of my Strelly brand of medallions and Mardi Gras beads. Strelly in no way endorses the representation of George Bush lassooing a hurricane or a 90 lbs. Karen Carpenter in jewelry form. Those were both New-Jar's ideas. Strelly is, however, considering a more tasteful line of walrus tusk etchings - scrimshaw in Northern Eskimo tongue - depicting the Chief Justice Roberts Senate confirmation hearings. Shed a tear, bitches.

3) I will stop collaborating with Corey on an unauthorized biography of Strelly's early years, tentatively titled, "The Angriest Pollock." The illustartions were looking amazing, and the stained glass compendium would have made you weep. To be honest, this one's a bit of a godsend. I was really stuck on the 2nd chapter. I mean, where do you go from, "Strelly, his chestnut mane swaying in the meat-scented Chicago wind, spent the better part of the 6th grade huffing bike grease and cooking sausages over the fire pit in his family's tri-level teepee."

So. These things I swear. Now. Here. And forever. Except the medallions.I just can't help myself!!

MORALITY

2005-11-01T12:59:00.000-08:00

There seems to be a puritanical push for morality. I don't think it's a global phenomenon. I don't even think it's a national phenomenon. I think it's a well marketed Evangelical hoax. Anti Americanism is becoming a scholared practice thoughout Europe and Middle Eastern nations are finding a cause to come together around as Bush and his cronies push for a global "morality." Here in our significantly less cool increasing shitty homeland, people are generally apathetic. That's why I respect Strelly so much. To me he represents the silent angry masses. Let's look at the facts. He's really into Norweigian Black Metal (unamerican and god-hating). He occasionally wears pink pants (take that Fallwell) and he's all for abortion. In fact he things more people should be having them. God Safe America, God Bless Strelly.

Halloween

2005-10-31T15:42:00.000-08:00

Strelly's coming over for Halloween tonight. He said he's going to wear a nicotine patch over his eye and come as Captain Marlboro. He will even have a stuffed parrot on his shoulder. The parrot's name is Anger Battery and it has been trained to peck out the eyes of anyone who disrespects Strelly's Halloween booty (i.e. tries to give him an apple or some pennies).

I asked Strelly what "tricks" he had up his sleeve. He asked me if I knew the one where you fill a bag with dog poop and light it on fire on the front stoop. I said I did. He said he would do that except he would be in the bag and when you went to stomp on it, he would pop out of the bag and fight you. A burning, hate-filled, nicotined-addled Strelly is a trick for sure.

WHITE SOX VS EVANGELICAL NUT JOBS

2005-10-27T10:44:00.000-07:00

I love Chicago. Great fucking hot dogs, plenty of bars and consistanly anti-Republican. Strelly is from Chicago and it shows in his astute political observations and general hatred of nuckleheads world wide. I hate Texas. Motherland of ignorance, evil oil empires and friend of the american religious nut job. Whenever I drive through Texas I try to pee (and shit) on the floor of any restroom I am using and to drop my trash out of the window of my car. It should be noted that I also only drive across the pan handle so as to spend as little time as possible in Texas. Also it's a good idea to get gas in a neighboring state so as not to support the Texas economy (even though by buying gas anywhere you are probably supporting the Texas economy).

It was for these reasons that, even though I'm not a fan of any baseball team in particular, I was rooting for The White Sox over the Astros. My wife had a soft spot in her heart for Houston due to their hospitality for victims of Katrina. I feel like the victims of Katrina are being victimized further by being bused out of a cultural mecca and into a corporate wasteland. My favorite image from the world series occured last night when they showed George Bush senior and Barbara's reaction to the Astro's final out. Yeah your team lost, now go home and tell your grand children not to reproduce.

Huge Animals

2005-10-26T16:22:00.000-07:00

You guys know that we always try to be positive about Strelly here at the Strellyblog, but I think it's time to point out one of Strelly's hidden fetishes. I'm not doing this to be critical or picky. This is merely a clinical psychological exercise to help us delve a little deeper into the grey matter that is Strelly. This reminds me of the time Strelly participated in a version of the Stanford Prison Experiment at this Special Education school he volunteered at when he was trying to impress a nun he was looking to nail. Let's just say Strelly gets a little twinkle in his eye when he's given a billy club and psychotropic drugs.

Anyway, this particular fetish I want to talk about today is his fascination with news stories about animals. And not just any animals, but freakishly large animals. And even better if said freakish animals fight one another in mortal combat. I've never seen the guy so happy as when he read a story last week about a 20-foot boa that tried to eat a 15-foot alligator, and exploded as a result of its gorging. What does this tell us about Strelly? 1) He is a self-proclaimed "friend of the python"; 2) He will not hesitate to get "juiced" if it means he can fight a 93-foot bear; and 3) Strelly can communicate with beasts, telepathically, and probably knows where Bigfoot "stays at."

MOST ELIGIBLE

2005-10-25T14:05:00.000-07:00

Strelly was recently named the "Most Eligible Bachelor in Los Angeles" by the LA Times in their "Sunday Bachelor Guide." Wow, it's something I've always thought, but I'm sure it's great for Strelly to findly get the recognition. Two years ago The Doctor won the prestigious M.E.B. Award and look at him now, he's happily in love with The Bulgarian. Strelly you're future is so bright you've got to wear shades, and a speedo. Congratulations.

Secret

2005-10-21T16:26:00.000-07:00

I've got a secret. Today, over the aforementioned lunch with Dad2B and Strelly, I let out a real whopper. In fact, it was such a whopper that Dad2B just put his hand over his brow, pushing evolution back up his hairline by 2 inches, and just shook. Like he was caught out in a leperous, Winter rain. Strelly put his hands in his lap. I went on with my secret, which involves a urinal, a wall, and too much spare time, and when I was done I looked at the guys. I looked and I waited. Dad2B got up and cancelled his 6 weekend pilates appointments so he'd have enough time to "staunch the flow of hate." Strelly, his eyes a little teary, looked up and showed me the palm of his right hand.

"Does this look innfected to you?" he asked me, all childlike and ethnic.

I love this guy.

OFFICER STRELLY

2005-10-21T13:58:00.000-07:00

I had a lovely lunch with GreenJeans and Strelly today at the California Chicken Cafe. As we sat there, getting the bird flu, it came up that Strelly thinks he would enjoy being a cop. Keep in mind that he watched LA Confidential last week (as did I), and that movie would make anyone want to be a cop. With a law degree and a vicious bitter edge Strelly would make a perfect cop. He would be known throughout the precinct as the ultimate interrogator because he could be both the good cop and the bad cop at the same time.
EXAMPLE:

STRELLY: Welcome to Jail god.
CRIMINAL: Fuck you I ain't talking!
STRELLY: Easy son, I really could care less if you talk or not...are those Limited Edition Immel Eyestone Nike Vandals you're wearing?
CRIMINAL: Er... why yes they are.
STRELLY: Nice, I almost bought a pair of those last year when I was visiting a friend in New York and I was like, Naw I'll just get them when I get back to LA and then when I got here I couldn't fucking find them in my size anywhere. What size are you anyway?
CRIMINAL: I'm an eleven...usually
STRELLY: Hmmmm (stroking beard and picking up the phone book) So am I bitch! (STRELLY beat the man into submission with the phone book, getting the confession he needs and stealing the shoes he doesn't have in his size son!)

Masterful.

PULL MY FINGER

2005-10-19T17:39:00.000-07:00

The other day a co-worker, Baby Rob, came into my office and informed me that the average person farts 70 times a day. I didn't believe him and I googled, ("The average person farts", "per day") and found a number of opinions. I averaged the online opinions and discovered that the average person only farts 14 times a day. That made me wonder am I above or below average. As anyone will tell you, I'm not a huge pull my fingerer. I keep my farts to myself, like Strelly keeps his thoughts of hatred mostly to himself. I've been counting today. So far it's 6:45 and I'm 6 farts shy of the global average. Not bad.

Parsnips

2005-10-19T11:24:00.000-07:00

Last night, at my neighborhood Ralph's (not sure if the one at La Brea and 2nd has a nickname -- perhaps Not Enough Parking at the Trader Joe's Across the Street Ralph's??) I ran into an old friend of the Strellyblog, Amy T. I encountered Amy in the produce aisle, sparing us both the embarassment of running into each other in front of the Pop Tarts or douche.

Amy was looking for parsnips and she asked me if I knew where they were. "Parsnips," I guffawed "come on, Amy. Parsnips are an old wives' tale. They don't exist. Everyone knows that parsnips, unicorns, and the palpating of prostrates are the three biggest urban legends this side of the Mason Dixon Line."

She showed me a recipe. It was entitled "Meat."

"Oh," I said, slightly worried and a little inntrigued. "You're making meat, huh?"

She nodded. A little deflated. "I wanted to make this perfect," she sighed sadly, "and to make this perfect I need parsnips."

I could do nothing but grin at her like a fag on dope.

After that we just stared at one another and made small talk about the weather, about England, about Strellyblog.

"I really like the Strellyblog," she said in her off-handed way, "it reminds me of my youth."

I just smiled and eyed my Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches that were becoming a river of low-carb guilt at the bottom of my cart.

We parted ways with a sly goodbye.

"Ciao," she said as she peddaled on in her utili-kilt and moccasins.

Bye, I nodded with my eyes.

As soon as she turned the corner I took the parsnips out of the deep pockets of my dungarees and put them back on the shelf. I licked my upper lip and let my light Chicano mustache tickle my tongue and I muttered to myself, "No one makes meat but Strelly."

After that, I went home and had sex with my unicorn.

Rainy Days...

2005-10-17T08:54:00.000-07:00

You know how sometimes you get bummed out on Sunday because tomorrow's Monday and you have to get an IV filled with some kind of dye so the technician can get a nuclear image of your heart and you're just not looking forward to it at all? Well, somehow the Monday finally gets here and it's worse than the aforementioned Sunday and really all you want to do is find Morrissey, rip off his bloody panties, shove them in his mouth, wrap his head in cellophane, and light him on fire. Strelly knows what this feels like. And speaking of Strelly, yesterday I went shopping at the Beverly Center (which used to be Kiddie Land for those that want to know) and couldn't remember my shirt size. My wife and I called Strelly to see if he could help, but he wasn't there. He was probably out adopting a landmine or breaking ground on his new chain of taco stands, "Tacos, Bitch," or just out generally carrousing in the art world as he's want to do. At first I was pissed. Like, hey man, you know my shirt size and you're really letting me down. But then I thought, easy pal, it's Sunday, tomorrow's Monday, and you've got Strelly. Yeah. That's right. I do. Bring on the IV and the tacos, Morrissey. I'm ready for you!

Indian Buffet

2005-10-14T15:16:00.000-07:00

Just got back from an alarmingly cheap turn at an Indian buffet with Strelly, my beard, and Ethan, the guy who taught me how to cut myself. We had a really good time, but let me tell you, this Boy Scout is burning up below the equator not a little bit. I mean, it's good food, but come on, all those spices and lentils mixing in your stomach form something not too unlike a typhoon of ka-ka that makes the river of me rise, rise, rise, punishing villagers (my co-workers) and Punjabis alike. Strelly's probably feeling it, too, because his stomach is not that great, either. Once, when he was in a Momenschantz production of "The Diary of Anne Frank," he had to run off stage because he was a dam ready to burst.

VESPA

2005-10-14T14:54:00.000-07:00

Last weekend my family was in town, visiting from historically anti-slave states in the northern middle part of the country know as the Mid-West. That's right, Kansas, Tennessee, Georgia, Oklahoma, are not the midwest. I don't consider Missouri to be part of the midwest either. It's a controvercial stance but, they were back an forth on the slavery issue and outside of St. Louis, the drawl thickens to a southern dialect almost instantly. Also, The Dakotas Montana and Nebraska are the great plains.

So my family was in town from the Great Original Middle West and they were asking about Strelly from the moment they got off of the plane.

"how's Strelly"
"how's that Strelly doing?"
"are you still hanging out with Strelly?"

Yes, I'm still hanging out with Strelly. I co-write his official fanblog for goodness sake. Jeez.

My family and I are out on Saturday during the day. I drop them off at a restaurant and go to park my car. As I walk from where I parked my car I hear a familiar voice. Across the street is a man yelling my name and waving. He's wearing a corduroy suit jacket, dark jeans, a long pair of italian shoes and a beard. I should also mention that he's driving a vintage Vespa Scooter. Strelly? Could it be? YES! Yippie. He also has on a little helmet and a pair of sunglasses. I ask him to come say hello to my parents, telling him "They have to see you in this get-up." He declines, but politely excuses himself and is off. I knew it was going to be a great day and it was.

Halloween

2005-10-12T12:40:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking of going as...yup...you guessed it - STRELLY - for Halloween. I will need a dialysis machine, 4 cubic liters of pubic hair, and a 2 year subscription to Guns and Ammo. Who's with me?? And may I remind you, that if y ou're not with me, you're against Strelly.

EXTACY

2005-10-12T11:12:00.000-07:00

I went to the new exhibition at the MOCA Geffen this weekend. It's titled Extacy, and it discusses mind altered states. There were sculptures, paintings video pieces and installation pieces exhibited. There were no Blogs represented in the exhibition which frankly shocked me. How can the artworld continue to ignore the newest form of visual expression which constantly breaks down barriers and opens new creative dialogues? Specifically, I'm a little bit bummed that Strellyblog wasn't asked to be a part of the exhibition. After all that's what we aim to do in our discussion of Strelly, alter your mind. We want to change your view of both Strelly and of blogging.

THE ULTIMATE RESPECTAMATA

2005-10-07T18:13:00.000-07:00

With this post I bestow Strelly with the ultimate medal of bro-dom. I've never done this before. It feels like what a gang must feel like when it is first formed in the bathroom of a Quiznos or where ever gangs are usually formed. Like the original founding two members of a gang eating a toasted subs in the bathroom and realizing that they need to really get serious about their loyalty to one another. Strelly from now on you are my VATO!

Strelly Says

2005-10-07T15:08:00.000-07:00

If you're ever lucky enough to spend some time with Strelly, quality time that is, mano y mano, or man to beard as my blogging party Daddy Long Eggs likes to call it, you'll notice that he uses a few catch phrases that really define who he is as a man, as well as as a genre. I'd like to give you a little insight now, if I may, so that if that special moment ever happens, you'll be ready to talk to the gentleman in his own lingo.

1) "With all due respect..." - This is my personal favorite. If Strelly says this, you know the next thing out of his mouth is going to be an insult that will leave you trembling like a freshly charged vibrator and attempting to climb back into your mother's vag, back first, so the last thing you see before the black hole seals you up, fetus style, is his grinning maw and the flecks of silver in his beard winking at you in tortuous delight. Strelly learned this expression in law school and it is therefore a legal way to insult whoever he wants whenever he wants. You cannot deny the law.

2) "Done and Done" - Wow. A real doosy, this one. When this one is tossed down, its like Strelly ripping the elastic seam out of his Hulk Hogan underoos and whipping you right in the mind. Totally fucked up. This means that he has said the final word. There is no room for argument. In essence, you are having your meat cooked Medium Well. Done and done.

3) "The Junk" - A lot has been speculated about what "junk" actually means. Some think that this is rudimentary slang for the male genitalia. But in reality, that's like saying the universe is just the corner of Wilcox and Santa Monica. Yup. That's right. It's a whole lot more than that. For example, included in "junk," Strelly means to encapsulate texture and smell as well as distance. Junk can mean, your genitalia smells like three day macaroni, the stirring of which causes a wave, that in turn causes a tropical storm, that morphs into a hurricane, which...uh huh...you're almost there...destroyed New Orleans. That's right. Say it softly. Treat it tenderly. Junk is powerful.

Talk to Strelly. Don't be intimidated. You'll learn a lot and have a great time. Cheers!

Baby Shower

2005-10-06T17:02:00.000-07:00

Strelly and I are going to a baby shower this weekend. It's for a secret baby, so I can't tell you what or where, but what I can tell you is that Strelly is an officially registered Mohel and would easily be able to flick his butterfly knife around a few times and before you know it WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH L'Chayim! Speaking of which, Strelly has asked me to convey his heartfelt wishes for a happy new year to all his Jewish friends. I hope both of you have a prosperous, usery, 5766.

SIGUR ROS

2005-10-06T11:23:00.000-07:00

Last night Green Jeans, The Doctor, The Bulgarian and I went to see the Icelandic stoney noodlings of Sigur Ros. Strelly wasn't there in body, but as we consumed alcohol, smoked weed and debated whether the guy three rows behind us was puking I could sense that Strelly was on all of our minds. The Bulgarian actually turned to me and said at one point, "I miss Strelly." Green Jeans was convinced that the singer of Sigur Ros was a woman until seeing him live. I can image Strelly saying something like, "Greeny, even I knew he was a dude and I'm not even into those Icelandic MFs."

Supreme Strelly

2005-10-03T15:52:00.000-07:00

Why not appoint Strelly to the Supreme Court? His views on critical issues are clear. In his own words:

Abortion: "I ain't ready to be having no baby, bitch."

Post-Natal Abortion: "I gave it a shot. Maybe I'm not daddy material. Get a rope."

Euthanasia: "I should only be so lucky."

And of course his infamous remarks on the use of torutre as a means of interrogation: "I curb, therefore I am."

In short, Justice Strelly. I rest my case!

ALL DAY BLOGGING

2005-10-03T12:49:00.000-07:00

8AM
Life can be hard. I know that, Strelly knows that and now Tom Delay knows it too. But I'm going to laugh in the face of work place adversity by Blogging all day, so hard. Watch me, here I go.

9:42AM
As I type these words what is Strelly doing? Trimming his beard? Going over some note and memos? Who knows! That's what's so great about Strelly he could be doing anything.

1:17PM
Balls, I'm tired. On Saturday night Strelly The Doctor, The Bulgarian, The Wife, The Cobler and I all went to an event. I love spending time with the gang, but sometimes I'd like to spend time with Strelly one on one, man to man, beard to beard(I don't have a beard).

2:59PM
Do you know what a joantang is? It's a penis. it's also spelled jonetang, but that's actually not correct. Don't confuse a joantang with the cooking of asia fusion chef Joan Tang. Strelly sometimes uses this vernacular. If you want to know a man you have to speak his language. If you didn't what to know the man then why are you here?

4:20PM
It's Four Twenty! I'm smoking pot in the bathroom of my work (Burger King San Fernando Rd right near the 2 Freeway). Strelly doesn't smoke weed. He didn't go to a hippie college like I did. Strelly gets high on life... and black metal.

5:37PM
Wow, I'm still coming down. Not from the weed, from my Strelly induced bro-high. That's right I'm high on the brotherhood of Strelly. I'm going to have some "sleepytime tea" and take a nap in the supply room.

Yoga

2005-09-27T17:38:00.000-07:00

Last night, as I was straining in a downward dog position, I started thinking about Strelly. I thought about all the amazing poses a guy like Strelly might be able to do should he ever decide to apply his rapidly-expanding mind to yoga. There's the "Pretzeled Pollock," wherein Strelly would majestically twist his left leg up under his taint and count to ten in ebonics. There's also the "Gutter Ball" in which Strelly chants Namaste whilst simultaneously greeting the sun AND saving Hurricane Katrina victims. Talk about enlightenment! Look...all I'm saying is that once when we all went bowling I crossed the foul line and sprained my taint pretty badly (Some witnesses swear they heard a tearing sound -- I believe this to be hyperbole). And I know, that if I was as good at yoga as Strelly (or anything else for that matter), it'd be a whole different story. The divine sprit in me recognizes the divine spirit in Strelly.

R.I.P. Don Adams

BACK TO SUPPORT STRELLY

2005-09-26T18:36:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been a while since I've shared my convictions and experiences in and around the world of Strelly. I'd like to thank my Blogging partner Shabat Malone, for holding down the blogwaves. I'm happy to say that Strellyblog is really a hit. We've been in existence for less than a month and already we've been invited to speak at the International Blog Symposium in Zurich this coming November. Furthermore there is a three page spread on Strellyblog in the upcoming issue of internationally acclaimed British blogging culture magazine, "The Kings Blog." Keep an eye out for that. It's going to be real nice, like the time Strelly came with me to help me pick out my wedding suit. Strelly where ever you are, I hope you're wearing pink pants and sunglasses.

Tattoo You

2005-09-23T13:45:00.000-07:00

Okay. I have TWO really exciting bits of Strelly news to let you all in on. First, last night Strelly told me he's thinking about getting a tattoo. He's thinking about getting something really mean like a fox ripping apart a mongoose, or an Irish guy bashing in the queen's head with a bowl of haggis. I think both those options (perhaps combine the two?) are bitchin'. But then Cory had to come in and ruin it by suggesting something really pussyish. Cory thinks Strelly should get a Steal-Your-Face with a peace sign in the head. FUCK THAT! Strelly said. And I was like, Yeah, Cory. You big pussy! Fox's killing Irishmen is the way to go!!

Okay, second awesome Strelly experience. After dinner we were driving down his dark, deserted street when all of a sudden a huge penguin flew in low over the car, practically scraping the roof of Strelly's awesome Volvo. This thing had chum dripping from its lips and as it flew over it took a huge shit on the hood of Strelly's car. We parked and Strelly dabbed his finger in the scat and said...and this is what really ties everything together...I'm going to get a tattoo of me kicking the shit out of a fucking flying penguin.

YEAH! FUCK YEAH!!

Busy Advocate

2005-09-22T16:31:00.000-07:00

I am constantly impressed by how Strelly uses his legal skills...nay...talents...to help those less fortunate than himself. For example, the other day he wrote a REALLY OFFICIAL letter to this girl who said she had my baby. It read, "Listen, lady. Take your kid back to the welfare amusement park you call a home before I come over there and kick you in the goiter." Perry Mason couldn't have said it any better himself. Ironsides probably could, but, you know, the wheelchair. Nuff said.

WORK GETTING IN THE WAY STRELLYBLOG

2005-09-20T17:53:00.000-07:00

Today I had to work on a shoot. All day long speaking shoot language. "Ok, lets try that again, this time walk off stage to the left when you're done". All I really wanted to do was mother-fucking blog...about my friend Strelly. It's one thing that work has gotten in the way of my family, made me a bad father to my dog and cost me a few friends, but when work keeps me away from Strellyblog, that's not cool. Sorry Strelly.

Helpful

2005-09-20T15:56:00.000-07:00

Okay. So you think you have good friends? This is Strelly cleaning out my fridge after all of my "samples" accidentally spilled when I went into a steroid-induced rage. Accidentally. And he wore my mother's pants. Thanks for that, Strelly. You're a good egg.

Weekend With Strelly

2005-09-19T10:22:00.000-07:00

I spent some time with Strelly this weekend. It was well spent. We hit Culver City hard, like a punch to the Joantang. First we went to an art opening and then out for french food. It's important to note that this was not a man-date and that my pregnant wife was there as well as The Doctor and The Bulgarian. If there are any republicans reading Strellyblog I'd like to take a moment to tell you that you're not welcome here. Start your own stupid blog about racisim, wealth and jesus.

WWSD?

2005-09-19T10:16:00.000-07:00

I wish Strelly were here. Monday mornings are so cold and lonely at the office, especially when I wake up at 5:30am in a cold sweat from having another nightmare about my job, but then realize it's really just the dog licking my eyelids. How does Strelly handle the cold times? How does Strelly conquer the demons that nip at his dragging knuckles? Oh yeah. He punches them in the junk. Thanks Strelly!

GRAND OPENING

2005-09-16T13:47:00.000-07:00

This post marks the grand opening of Strellyblog. Today we told Strelly that we had a blog about him. I think he was a little flattered and very freaked out. You would be too. We will be having an official Strellyblog Grand Opening at the Staples Center this coming sunday the 18th. Tickets are $55 dollars and all proceeds go to THE BITTER BARRISTER FOUNDATION.

Viva Strelly!

2005-09-16T10:49:00.000-07:00

How much do I believe in the power of this blog? In what we're doing as something that's bigger than just our feelings about Strelly? Put it this way...I'm confident that Strelly Blog could very well serve as an early warning system for hurricanes, tsunamis, and crabs. Viva Strelly! Viva the Strelly Blog!!

I HAD A DREAM...

2005-09-16T09:36:00.000-07:00

I had a dream about Strelly last night. In the dream I was his new roommate and he was giving me the tour of the house. The home was filled with modern furniture. He showed me where my room was and left me alone to unpack and get settled. I opened the closet to put my clothes away and it was filled with flourescent bike clothing. I think I sleep talked out loud the words, "holy shit" and then went into another dream about getting a blow job from a hooker.