Rage Against the Machine!!

When in the course of human events…okay…fuck that. Let me start over.

These are the times that try men’s----yeah fuck that too.

I shaved my head yesterday. Uh-huh, that’s what I did. I know…you find that pretty exciting and you wish you were me, but I’m a rock star and you aren’t.

And…as we all know, none of you want to be me can be me. Sad, but true, and anyhoo...

You don’t want to be me right now anyway. I fell asleep early last night, and woke up this morning feeling like crap.

I woke up sweating. I took Schmoop to work, took Ryno to school, and when I got home I took my sweatshirt off to alleviate the sweating.

That only halfway helped, for as I type this, I sit here both sweating and freezing, and my nose is a free-flowing spigot of sinus sewage.

Oh well…

I guess it’s appropriate that I feel like crap because it puts me in a bad mood and tonight at 11 PM EST on I’m With Stupid on Blog Talk Radio, Jayman and I will be covering the worldwide rioting that is going on.

Yes indeed, tonight at 11 PM EST, Jayman and I will be hosting IWS’ Day of Rage!!

From Cairo, to Tripoli, to Madison, WI., there is a boatload of raging against the machine taking place and I’m With Stupid has it covered for you.

In addition to your two sexy hosts guiding you through the chaos, IWS’s own Dick Burns will be chiming in live from Madison, WI as he covers the cantankerous Collective Bargaining melee that is taking place in America’s Dairy Land.

And…

Our fave Dutch correspondent Guy Ahnyurdyck will be reporting live from the new hotbed of social and political unrest, Christmas Island.

Throughout the capital streets of Flying Fish Cove, the 1,402 citizens of Christmas Island are raising hell, trying to toss off the yoke of Australian oppression, and Guy is in the midst of the violence and carnage.

So folks, there you have it. Please listen, call-in, and join Jayman and me tonight at 11 PM EST on I’m with Stupid and help us make sense of world events on this Day of Rage.

To access our radio show page, click HERE.

Now, pass me some aspirin, a Kleenex, and some chicken soup. I’m dying here.

Cheers!!

Tings I'm Tinking About On Tuesday

Here’s a few things I am thinking about…

Schmoop and Dave’s mom is in the hospital. The lovely Patty Ann is resting comfortably, but is suffering from an acute case of dementia and/or Alzheimer’s.

She went in Sunday evening and may very well be going into a nursing facility upon her release.

There’s one thing of late that I truly get a kick out of about Schmoop’s mom…

Schmoop will go over to see her on Saturdays and hang out with her and Dave while Schmoop does some laundry.

In the course of any conversation that Schmoop and her mom have, ol’ Patty Ann often doesn’t realize that Schmoop is her daughter and doesn’t know her name.

Her mom however almost never fails to ask Schmoop one very important question…

“How’s Matthew?” Ha!!

I dig that. Schmoop? Not so much. It kinda makes her want to throw up a little, so of course, I bring that fact up often.

Anyhoo…Any kind thoughts for Schmoop, Dave, and most importantly for their mom, would be appreciated.

Now dig it…Dave brought some of these over for Schmoop the other day…

That’s right, bitches. Pickled Fucking Eggs. Oh dear God!! Is there anything in the culinary world more horrid than pickled eggs?

Schmoop loves them, but wondered where Dave got them. I had to tell her that he made them and that in fact, pickled eggs do not as she thought, come from drunk chickens, however…

They do sit on the counter of many an old time bar, so pickled eggs are primarily eaten by drunk people, which makes perfect sense as to why Schmoop loves them.

When I see pickled eggs like those pictured above, I think to myself:

“Those god awful things look and smell like the result of the ovarian discharge of an incredibly fertile 50 foot tall woman who went unfertilized and got her period.”

On the upside, upon seeing those nasty beet intoxicated eggs I thought of something that made me smile.

This year, I am going to color some damn Easter Eggs. I haven’t done that in ages, so by God, I am at least going to do 6-12 eggs this year.

I mean, it’s fun. I love hard boiled eggs (if they’re not fucking dripping in beet juice), and it will give me a chance to put pornographic designs upon them.

Damn straight, I’m gonna make me some Easter Porno Eggs.

Should be fun, and I’ll take pictures.

One last thing before I go…

With the warmer days coming, on the days I work now, I don’t get off until nine at night, so my posts will be popping up later than the typical 10 PM from here on out.

Please make a programming note, or just say to yourself, “Who the fuck cares Matt-Man?”

Either way, I’ll be happy.

Cheers!!

Blow Out Your Advent Candle, Christmas Is Here!!

Christmas has come early to Bagwine…

I found out late yesterday that I am off today. We have moved to our winter schedule at the Beer Mine, and I thank Pizza Bill for letting me know.

You see, our owner was too busy applying cream to his feet, asking for pesos, and dealing with crazy fuckers named Shaky-T to let me know about the change, so PB stepped up and let the Matt-Man know that I was free to bandy about today.

So I thank Pizza Bill for that, and now, secondly...

If my son isn’t “stretching the truth” (his dad put it kindly) and the soon to be posted online grades reflect what he is telling his mom and I, he is doing much better in school.

Also, his first regular High School game is tonight, and if he can keep up what he did in his last scrimmage, my little 5’10 small forward with size 14 feet will be putting up 9 points, 7 rebounds, 3 assists, and draw 1 charge tonight.

I am really proud of Ryno because of his basketball prowess…

Not because it makes him a “manly athlete” but rather because it is something to which he actually does show commitment.

He has always gotten bored quite easily and would often walk away from things, especially if he didn’t conquer them the first time.

Basketball is something which at first, he wasn’t very good, but for some reason, he would not let it go away. He stayed with it and constantly practices and more importantly knows the game.

Sometimes, I think he would make a better coach than player, but anyhoo…

I wish he had the same attitude towards his classes, but at least I know that he now knows what commitment is, and how one aspect of life can affect another. He knows now that he needs grades in order to play.

See this picture..?


This is a picture of the last 12 antibiotics that I have to take. I will have completed my ingestion of said pills at noon today. On Tuesday, I was done with my $14 a piece pills that I was taking for a month.

This may not seem to be a big deal to you, but being done with taking my $525.00 worth of pills signifies something more than being in better health and incredible debt.

It signifies that once again, after two lonnnnnng months, Schmoop is willing to have sex with me!!

Schmoop had refused to have sex with me because she didn’t want me to blow a lung out on her and suffer the embarrassment of having the paramedics peel my dead body off of her warm, sweaty, lithe body should I expire during sex.

Tonight?

That all comes to an end as I am going to take her drunken ass to bed and rediscover the hot body that has no doubt been ravaged by every man in the neighborhood while I have been under the weather.

Wash it up Schmoop, Matty is coming home!!

So there you have it. There’s good. There’s bad. But…

Even in the darkest of times there is hope. And, I hope that after reading the last part of this post, Schmoop acquiesces and still allows me to have sex with her.

It would only be right after suffering so long. Right?

Cheers!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: Transitions

I have but a short post on this Sabbath.

I’m working 11-7 and then of course, headed over to see my adorable little pin head in order to help him with math after that.

I’ll be tied up on Monday for awhile as well, dealing with HOSPITAL BILLS and work, but after that, guess what?

I think I’ll be ready to go and get back to being normal. No, I won’t be 100% but I think I’ll be close to my normal blog schedule and practices.

I know…Much like you, I am excited as well. Contain yourselves.

It’s funny…

Over this seven week ordeal I have discovered so much about others and myself as well.

Some people are far better people than they come off to be, and others? Well, they are far less than what they appear to be.

Or in some cases, sadly, they come off to be exactly who and what they really are.

As for me?

I have much more vulnerability as a human being than I ever realized. I have much less patience and tolerance with and for myself than I ever did.

And…

I have much more appreciation for those around me, and for people in general.

Here’s to a new tomorrow. Even after a long day, let’s hope that come tomorrow, things are back to normal for me and for all of you. In fact…

My wish for you on this Sunday is that tomorrow begins a life that is full of nothing but surprises that bring only smiles, heart palpitations that are brought on by excitement, and tears that are brought on by joy.

In order to finalize this transition and jump start my move back into the world of fun and funk, I summon one of my favorite bands of all time…

Blackfoot!! Crank It Bitches!!

Amen, and Amen!!

Cheers!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: Matt-Man and His Amazing Powder Blue Dreampants

It’s going to be a bee-yoo-tee-ful Sabbath in Bagwine, Ohio. Sunny with a high near 60.

The good weather should help because it’s going to be a long day. I work 11-7 at the Beer Mine and then go over to my kid’s house in order to help him study for a couple of tests.

Today’s Church Disservice is based upon Genesis 37:3...

“Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age: and he made him a coat of many colors.”

I had a similar event happen to me while I was in the hospital. At one point during my first day there, I was transported from the ER down to Radiology in order to have an ultrasound done.

Upon my arrival, “Shelly”, the ultrasound technician, asked me to take my pants off. As a guy who enjoys hearing that, I quickly and happily obliged.

She checked everything out. My legs which as I told you a few days ago, she said were really nice looking.

She checked my organs out and at one point asked, “When did you have your gall bladder taken out, Matt?” I said, “I never had my gal---”

She interjected, “Ha. Just kidding; there it is.” We cut up for a few more minutes and then we were done.

After she completed some paperwork, she asked if I wanted to put my pants back on…a pair of jeans that I had been wearing for hours and had been collecting the smell of hospital funk.

I said, “Eh…I’m sure I’ll be getting prodded more over the next few hours and their a pain to get on and off, so I may as well leave them off.”

It was a bit cold in the Radiology area so Shelly said, “Hey, why don’t I give you a pair of my pants?”

And with that my friends, a 70’s guitar riff that one would hear embedded in a porn soundtrack filled my head and I envisioned her stripping down. Alas…it was not to be.

Shelly did, however, go into the next room and came back carrying a fresh pair of hospital scrub pants, and smiling, said, “Here, I’ll give you these, Matt. You can keep them.”

It was then, that the words of Genesis 37:3 came to mind albeit in slightly different form…

“Now Shelly loved Matt-Man more than all her patients, because he had great legs: and she gave unto him pants of a powder blue color.”


I appreciate the charity of Shelly, and each time I wear these special pants I will think of her and her kindness.

Amen, and Amen.

Cheers!!

A Day of Football and Nicotine

Happy Saturday!!

I'm off to see Ryno for a few and then will be back to the digs to watch the Ohio State Buckeyes take on the Michigan Wolverines in Ann Arbor at Noon today.

This is exactly the type of football game that I enjoy watching because I don't care who wins and if they end up carting 15 players off the field from either and/or both sides, I just say, "Eh, what a fucking shame."

Other than my back hurting, my lung sounds clear and I feel pretty good today. So good in fact, that when I woke up this morning, I took a picture of one of the first things I did this morning...

Tar and Nicotine never tasted so damn good!! I'll add some beer and Rose to the mix later, and baby, we'll be partyin'!!

Have a wonderful Saturday all.

Cheers!!

Wuuuuuuv...Twuuuuuue Wuuuuuuv

I'm feelin' much better today and will be headed back to work this evening. Hoo-Fucking-Ray!!

I must grudgingly admit, that one of the reasons I am feeling better is that I listened to my boss, Drive-By Mikey and stayed home yesterday. I hate it when he's right.

There is also one other reason that I am feeling better today.

Can you identify the picture below..?


That's right Bagwine readers. That's my couch/bed, Kelly, and that is where I sleep every night.

She is a comfort to me. However, during my illness she could not alone handle my needs of comfort and support.

So, recognizing this, someone else stepped in and filled that void. Who and how you ask? Look at the picture below and I shall 'splain.

The above picture is a shot of the makeshift bed that my BFF/OSP Schmoop constructed Sunday night on the living room floor in front of Kelly.

When I came home in pain Sunday night, Schmoop decided to take eveything off of her bed and turn the floor into her sleeping quarters in case I needed anything during the night.

She had done the same thing when I was in excruciating pain the night before I went into the hospital a couple of weeks ago.

While there are a myriad of grand and fancy things a person can do to show their love for another...

I dig the little things like this. Actions like the makeshift bed are not pre-meditated or contrived. They just happen.

I dig ya Schmoop and thanks.

On a completely unrelated note, I have an announcement.

My ESPN Fantasy Football team, The Jonas Brothers, who compete with the likes of Jay-Man, Dana, and Vin, have taken over sole posession of 1st place in The Open Bar League with a record of 7-3.

Why do I mention this when the season is far from over? Because I have had very little luck this year and I know that my boys can quickly go from being 7-3 to 7-6 in a span of three weeks.

So, while my 1st place position may be temporary, I am going to temporarily enjoy the hell out of it.

Have a Day, and remember, don't mess with a Disney Channel fueled Boy Band when on the gridiron.

Cheers!!

Megan Fox Naked!! Heidi Montag Naked!!

Another boring medical update from the Matt-Man…

I had a major setback yesterday. Half way through my shift yesterday, a new and painful experience reared its ugly head.

At about 3 in the afternoon the extreme upper part of my right lung, my throat, and my head up to ear level began to throb. Throb painfully.

Yes it was when I exerted myself, but unlike the typical feeling of being winded which will continue for a few weeks to come, the throbbing couldn’t be abated by sitting down for a minute or two.

While confined to that small area, it fricking hurt.

This episode really bummed me out for a couple of reasons.

Number one…I had to call Pizza Bill to come in and finish the last ninety minutes of my shift. Anyone who knows Pizza Bill knows that you shouldn’t bother him on Sundays during football season.

I truly believe that if I were anyone else, he would have told me to go fuck myself and/or kicked my ass. But, he was very good about it, and closed for me, and I thank him for that.

Number two…I worked five hours Friday night, and by God even at the end of my shift I felt GOOD. Drive-By Mikey came in towards close and we cut up for a few. It felt great to laugh and feel human again.

Saturday I felt really good as well. Didn’t have to take a nap during the day for once... I just relaxed and watched college football and listened to music with Schmoop. Once again, I felt GOOD.

Sunday started off fine, even while I worked, and then out of the blue…BLAMMO. This inexplicable throbbing began, and wouldn’t stop.

I put a call into my Lung Doctor when I got home last night, but as yet, I have yet to hear from him. Between him not rushing to call me back and the pain subsiding when I lay down, I am assuming it is not life threatening.

So there you have it. The trials and tribulations of Matt and his lung. I thank you for your time.

Oh…what does the title of this post have to do with anything, you ask?

As my posts have been sporadic during my hospital stay and my recuperation, my traffic numbers have been slowly slipping.

I know that using the above title and posting the following pictures will breathe some life into my sagging numbers, even if Megan Fox and Heidi Montag are not truly naked…

Cheers!!

A Bit of Fragrance Always Clings to the Hand That Gives Roses

Happy Monday Bitches!!

Oy Vay…I worked eight hours on Sunday, and it WIPED ME OUT. Holy Cow.

I got home at 7 P.M. and was all but asleep on the couch by 8 P.M. Instead of trying to write a post for today, I actually did the mature thing and acquiesced to the demands of my health.

Oh hell yeah, it is killing me to not post everyday. I feel 100% better than I did a week ago, but am far from 100%.

I feel pretty damn good when just sitting around the digs, but even a five hour stint at the Beer Mine kicks my ass, let alone an eight hour shift.

I have a doctor’s appt. at 9:30 this morning and then I’m off to work until 4 P.M. So today, entertaining the masses is a no go.

Many of you have not read my last post involving the new Celebrity Fantasy Girlfriend ™ that I have picked out for Bagwine Buddy, Jay. So…

Scroll down directly and read about the most fine pick I have made in this matter if you’d like.

One last thing…

Saturday I received a very sweet get well card, from an incredibly sweet reader of this site.

In addition to the card, she felt that my recuperation (and Schmoop’s) would benefit from an uber-generous amount of Olive Garden gift card money.

She’s probably on the right track, as upon weighing myself this morning, the Matt-Man is down to 174 pounds. I think the last time I weighed 174 pounds I was 15 years old and fantasizing about having a hot, oily three way with the Landers’ sisters.

Anyhoo…While I have yet to thank her personally, I wanted to give an anonymous shout-out to this lovable goof’s kindness. Thanks Buddy, I was truly touched.

Enjoy your Monday all, and wish for me to have enough wind to get through another day at the Beer Mine.

Cheers!!

Pneu-Mania 2009: A Retrospective

I have a bit of Hospital Hodgepodge for you today.

I thought I’d just toss out some thoughts, pictures, and medical related bon mots for you today in order to help wrap up the story of my pulmonary upheaval.

Here’s the entrance to the room in which I stayed.

The placard warns those who enter of my potential infectiousness. Just call me, “Typhoid Matty”.

Some of the precautions listed could be applied to those who come in contact with me when I am well, um…as well.

In spite of my infectiousness, I received many visitors during my week long stay. Aside from Schmoop, my first visitor was my boss, and owner of Bagwine’s best Beer Mine, Drive-By Mikey…!!


His concern for my well-being was overwhelming. After informing me as to what he would be asking for from the nurses if it was he that was laid up, he let me know how much I was missed.

He voiced his heartfelt feelings by saying to me, “I need you to come back Matt-Man, because since you left, sales of Milwaukee’s Best Light and Basic Full Flavor cigarettes have plummeted.”

How touching…How Human…How Mikey.

My brother Marty visited frequently often bearing gifts and forcing me to spew out what was left of my bad lung by making me laugh and thus hacking profusely.

You can see, that even though I had been labeled as a contagious pariah, Marty was proud to let people know that he was a visitor of the Human Bug Factory of Room 497.

Marty who often brought me coffee, soup, and grocery store tabloid magazines also brought unto me, some lovely flowers.

The print on the card was too small to photograph, but the message left by Marty and his wife read: “Quit Faking!!” I was moved upon reading their well wishes.

My BFF/OSP Schmoop, when not on the phone with me, often appeared at my bedside in person…


I appreciate the fact that Schmoop remained true to her feelings for me rather than patronizing me because I was deathly ill and lying helpless with a chest tube stuck inside of me. Here’s to ya, Schmoop!!

These folks and others who visited always put a smile on my mask of death. I struggled to find a way to re-pay these folks for their kindness. I finally discovered a way to do so…


I offered each and every visitor a glass of my steamy, wet piss. While there were no takers, I think they appreciated the outreach on my part.

I have plenty of other people to thank. The doctors, nurses, and hospital staff who were fantastic. All of my family and friends for their calls and letters, and Schmoop’s brother Dave who has been carting me around.

I’ll get around to personally thanking each and every one of you over the next week or two, so bear with me. And don’t worry…

My thanks will not include an offer to drink of my steamy, wet piss...unless of course, you're into that type of thing.

Cheers!!

Suck It...Just Suck It

I have a problem. Yes, I know, many of you have thought that already, but here’s the thing…

I need some pretty damn powerful antibiotics, and my paperwork is askew, so I am not getting them and have missed a dose or two.

Hopefully, that will be rectified by 10 A.M. on Wednesday. I can deal with that.

Here’s my bigger problem…

Many of you have been so kind with your e-cards, phone calls, emails, and offers of sex once I get well, that I am overwhelmed.

I am overjoyed by your outpouring of good will and sense of decency as it relates to caring for a fellow human being. In my case…me.

However, between Friday and Tuesday night, my situation has also brought out the worst in some people. It is that fact that I’d like to touch upon, illuminate, and forever get out of the way.

Friday night I received in hospital room a call from a woman (who could be a sister) asking how I was doing. I said, “I’m getting better, but wished I was outta here.”

After that remark, I was full frontally attacked by words that echoed the phrases,

“Why didn’t you call me? Are you too good for me? You told everyone else. Oh just never mind….click.”

Nice.

The truth is, is that when I went into the hospital, I called my brother Marty (a day later), and no one else. Between Schmoop posting and calls from Marty to others, no one was notified by me. Oh well…I’ll live with my selfishness.

But eh, that kinda thing is family and is easily dealt with. However, here’s the kicker to all of this…

Late Sunday afternoon, Ryno came up to the hospital with his mom. For two minutes, it was fun. I was seeing my son and I was happy.

She commented on how nice it has been because I work on the house, tutor Ryno, and am always around should she or Ryno need me.

And then…

Ryno’s mom said, “Does that chest tube stretch far enough for you to go to the bank?” Once again…nice.

A mixture of sadness, humiliation, and anger overcame me. They stayed for about 20 minutes after that, but I couldn’t be myself. I was hurt.

There was no money. There was no check. And she knew it, but she wanted the 59% of my take home pay that I always give her.

Monday night I got released…late. Evidently my son called ten minutes after I got discharged. I hadn’t call him because I knew that he had B-Ball practice.

Yesterday, I got verbally trashed by Ryno’s mom because I didn’t call (although I called him at 7 A.M. Tuesday morning) and let him know that I was out.

I called Ryno’s mom Tuesday night in order to voice my displeasure over her “anger”. She went on a rant about what a jerk and whore that I am.

Whatever…I can take slurs against me that are not true…But what gets me is that we have been getting along so well for so long. So why the change?

It’s because of the money that she won’t be getting for two weeks…I told her that, and yet, she claims that she is hurt for Ryno.

What a crock, what a liar, and what a coward she be.

If you truly hate me; tell me such. It’s not like we haven’t done that to each other before.

Of course, we were married then, and there was no win or lose. Today, you are worried about what you can get…and me?

I’m more concerned about who I can make happy.

Cheers and Suck It!!

I Now Have My Drugzzzzzz. Yippee!!

Dispatches From the Hospital: Emergency Room Picnic

Eight days ago, Schmoop walked me over to the Emergency Room of the hospital across the street from us in order for me to be treated for my burgeoning pulmonary infection.

I was checked-in at the ER desk and oddly and fortunately enough, I was admitted to an ER bed within 15-20 minutes.

I was placed under the care of an incredibly cute Jennifer Love Hewitt looking nurse, and a Doctor of non-descript name, nebulous ethnicity, and shadowy credentials.

After having blood drawn, an IV inserted, my clothes removed, and a vitals monitor attached to me, by the uber-sweet and lovely RN nurse, I was then given an X-Ray, a Flu swab, some kick ass pain killer, a CT Scan, and two ultra sounds.

During my in and outs of getting these procedures done, a sick guy, accompanied by his wife/old lady/drinking and meth partner (who we’ll call Candy) was placed into the ER cubicle next to mine.

He was in pain and was audibly moaning due to a malt liquor induced flare up of pancreatitis. The dude was hurting.

Anyhoo…After he was placed on the bed and initially looked over by the Doc and the nurse, Candy decided that she was hungry.

She left and shortly came back with a bowl of chili, a sleeve of Saltines, and a Big Slam Mountain Dew.

Through my quasi-coherent, dilaudid induced state, his moaning dissipated, and all that Schmoop or I could hear, was the slurping of chili, the crunch of crackers, and the post-intake belching of Mountain Dew.

Candy, who was not large, was packing her victuals away with rapidity and avarice. And…what is lunch in the ER without an afternoon matinee? She flipped on the TV and began to watch, He’s Just Not That Into You.

She began commenting on the players while her mouth was stuffed with chili and crackers.

Although I couldn’t see them, I could picture the chili colored cracker pieces shooting from her pie hole onto the face of her moaning boyfriend lying helpless on the bed.

The doctor came back to check on the guy, at which time Candy left yet again and returned bearing gastronomical goodies such as a Hershey Bar, some kind of juice, and a bag of Cheetos. The feasting and the movie critiquing continued.

The guy? He continued to lay there uttering his discomfort in much the same way Peter Boyle did when Gene Hackman poured hot soup onto his crotch in the movie, Young Frankenstein.

Funny thing about the sound of the Cheetos…I never heard the bag rumple. I only heard a continuous, unabated crunching noise. It was as if this chick was a saber tooth tiger gnawing on one huge ass Pleistocene period Cheeto!!

She stated, after her secondary feast, that she had to go to the bathroom. He moaned, “whatever”. While she was gone, the guy was administered pain relief and after medical advice was told that he was free to go.

Upon her return, she came bearing more gifts. She said to him…”I brought you some soup, and I got myself on of these dinners.”

He painfully mumbled, “They told me I can leave now.” And Candy responded…

“Well hold on. I’ll eat my dinner real quick. The movie is almost over anyway. We’ll take your soup home.”

Upon hearing this, I looked at Schmoop. She was looking down at the floor and shaking her head in disbelief.

It was at this point that my selflessness once again reared its magnanimous head, for I thought to myself…

I don’t care how much pain and discomfort I may endure over the coming days, it will never rival the pain that Pancreas Boy will be suffering over his coming days. Be he in good health or poor.

Cheers!!

The Egg of the Phoenix

There seems to be a disturbance and/or some kind of alteration in the Blogos-Force.

Not necessarily a evil deviation of the blogging paradigm, in fact, this supernatural event tends to be a harbinger of peace, humor, and harmony.

It's as if something or someone who had died has been resurrected.

It is as though the sacred Bagwine has been purged of much of its toxicity, been eliminated from the host, and will now continue its ritual of purification on its own terms.

Praise Jeebus...At 5:45 P.M., Monday November 2nd...

The Matt-Man crossed back over the river Styx, cheated the flesh hound Cerberus, and once again dwells in the Holy House of Bagwine.

So let it be written; so let it be done.

Cheers!!

Here's To Family and Friends

I’m still trying to get back into the swing of things, and I think today may be the day I do just that.

I’m off all day, so I will be anesthetizing myself with Bagwine and should be good to go when it comes to sitting at the computer for more than a few minutes.

I’m going to be buzzing by all y’all!!

In getting my writing groove back, I thought I’d ease into it…kinda like rehabbing in Triple A ball before coming back up to the Major Leagues.

With that in mind, today through Saturday, I am dedicating my offerings to some family and friends of Matt-Man.

First up today? My nephew Kevin…

Kevin is one of the kids that belongs to my brother Denny (second from right in the above pic). In spite of Kevin’s paternal lineage, he has so far, turned out quite well.

Kevin is currently attending Eastern Illinois University…He arrived there via a somewhat circuitous route.

Being an outstanding High School offensive lineman, he received a football scholarship to Bowling Green State University a couple of years ago.

He got hurt, and yada yada yada...he left BGSU, and transferred to Eastern Illinois.

He played football at EIU and was named a conference newcomer of the year.

Unfortunately, he again fell to injury last year, and his football career as a player was over.

However…

He digs it at EIU, and was tabbed by the coach to help out with the offensive line and they also use him to send in signals to the offense during the games. You know what is uber cool about that?

He gets his own headset!! Doesn’t he look sterling standing on the sideline inside of Penn State’s, Beaver Stadium? Damn right, he does.

Last week, was a big Saturday at EIU. Former EIU and current Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo was in da hizzy!! Kev had his picture taken with Mr. Romo…

Romo is listed as being 6’2 226 pounds, so that gives you an idea as to how big my “little” nephew is.

I just hope Mr. Romo had himself deloused after spending time with Jessica Simpson…Kevin needs no further somewhat football related medical challenges.

Here’s to the Kev-Man, keep those signals clear.

One last thing today…Kevin’s brother’s wife, Jamie will be appearing on Jeopardy tomorrow, October 23rd.

If you get the chance, tune in and root Jamie on. We have no idea how she did, because Jeopardy puts each contestant into some sort of sinister Cone of Silence until their particular episode airs.

Here’s to Jamie…I hope that she did well and that she said to Alex, “Trebek…Your Mother’s a Whore!!”

Cheers!!

Dispatches From My Ass: Ode to Matt-Man

Happy Tuesday, friends of Matt-Man. This is Matt-Man’s BFF, Schmoop, sitting in once again for that oddly endearing, yet very much ailing Matthew.

The poor boy is still in quite a bit of pain.

I thought perhaps if I wrote a poem for him (and showed him my ass), it might break the stranglehold that this unknown, yet painful affliction has over him.

I’m not a great poet, but I don’t mind telling you that I have often been compared to Sylvia Plath. Not, because of my poetry skillz, but because I am so fucking suicidal.

So without further uh-doo, I offer to Matthew and to you all…

ODE TO MATT-MAN

I’m sorry you feel so crappy…

I just want you to be happy…

I wish I could ease your current pain…

And replace it with pain from whips and chains…

Be it your gall bladder or perhaps, pneumonia...

If you stay in the hospital, I'll sneak you Bagwine and a vase of begonias...

I am drinking beer right now while you’re at work…

I fried Spam for you, like a soda jerk…

It may aggravate whatever you have….

But, it has Velveeta, so don’t be so sad…

I want to take away whatever this ailment has made…

Oh my darling, I just want to get laid…

So now you know, I’m just a callous bitch…

Come on baby, get well, I have an itch!!!!!

Zoves!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Plugging Along With Pain

If you read yesterday's Bagwine post by the lovable Schmoop, you know that I am dealing with some type of right lung thing that is incredibly painful.

It really hurts when I bend, breathe deeply, and when I sit. That is why it is very hard to do anything at the computer. I can only sit a few minutes at a time.

Because of that, a writing deadline that comes Wednesday, and work, I will be around only sparsely until my day off on Thursday.

Until then, I will do some re-runs...Today's involves my longtime buddy, Joe. Or as some of you ancient Bagwine readers may know him as, Joe Hair Care.

As today is Joe's 45th birthday, I thought I would repost the following story about a couple of the fun times Joe and I shared at Bowling Green State University. Enjoy...

Hair Care Joe and I were near the end of the semester at BGSU. For most, the end of the semester is a time for focus, forethought, and finals.

For me…not so much. I worked very hard at enjoying the ENTIRE college experience, not just the drudgery of academia. It was, in my opinion, time to party.

Sure, there had been partying throughout the semester. The best outings were when we would go to a party off-campus at someone’s house or apartment, and the host had no clue who the hell we were.

We, of course had a right to be there, because of the obligatory, “Friend of a Friend of a Friend Party Law”.

Beer Bongs were big back then, and I became quite good at handling the receiving end of one. After a few of those, the fun would get underway.

We found it hilarious to pick up the host’s camera that was sitting on the kitchen table and proceed to take pictures of ourselves.

When said host had the film developed, he or she would have no idea who the hell the people in the pictures were.

One of our crew had a penchant for pilfering women’s nightgowns and dresses from their closets and wore them on Sundays as we watched football. He would always say, “They just feel right.”

This is the same guy who was hauled into the back of a paddy wagon during the busting up of a party.

You see, one night we were at a party that evidently drew noise complaints from the neighbors. When the cops arrived, our cohort in question was standing on the front porch with a good buzz going on.

He stated quite loudly, “Holy Crap, look at all the pigs!!” Just then, an officer emerged from the bushes and grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to escort him to the van.

Although drunk, our friend kept his quick wits about himself, and said, “C’mon occifer, I was talking about the women.”

He was ticketed for public drunkenness, and dropped off at Doyt L. Perry Stadium, better known in Bowling Green circles as “BFE”.

Now, allow me to get back to the semester ending blow out that Hair Care and I had. Joe seemed to be stressed of late, so I decided to ease his anxiety by showing him a Friday night of fun.

I asked him if he wanted to tie one on, and after threatening to mess his hair up, he graciously acquiesced.

We started by drinking some beer and Champagne Velvet in our room, while we listened to a Flock of Seagulls crank out “Space Age Love Song” through my crappy stereo.

Our buddies Paul and Webb stopped by to imbibe with us. Good Times…Good Times.

With a nice state of inebriation developing, we proceeded to McDonald’s to prepare our stomachs for the forthcoming assault upon their linings.

After Joe ordered his food, I said to him, “Your money is no good tonight. I’m buying.”

I paid. We ate. We then rambled down to the bar district.

We hit every stinkin’ bar in the city. We drank pitchers here, pitchers there, with shots of 151 everywhere. Good Lord, Nero would have been proud of the way we debauched ourselves and an entire community.

Neither of us remembered how or when we got back to our dorm room, but it was evident the next morning that we had made it.

After shaking the grain fed fog from our heads, Joe said to me, “Man, that was a great time Matt. Thanks a lot.”

I said, "Aw Joe, you don’t have to thank me.”

With a look of appreciation upon his face, he replied, “I sure as hell do have to thank you. You bought the beer, bought my Big Mac, and paid for all of the drinks at the bar. Hell, you never have money. How did you manage that?”

I smiled, grabbed my towel, and as I walked by him on my way to the shower, I told him, “I sold your textbooks.”

Happy Birthday Joe!!

And to those of you who shall be nameless, who yesterday were excited to find that Schmoop would be seen more during my illness? Here's a picture of the uber-lovely Schmoop that demonstrates her flexibility...


I hope you enjoy the picture...and then I hope you choke on it, you traitorous bastards, you!!

Cheers!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: Matt-Man Bites The Dust

Happy Sabbath Bitches!! This is Schmoop coming to you almost live over the internets.

In case you don’t know, I’m Matt-Man’s occasional sex partner (although not this week, if you know what I mean ladies) and BFF, LOL…

I’m typing this today because, well Matt-Man can’t. He seems to have developed some sort of lung fungus, swine flu, debilitating pleurisy type of thing in his right side.

This “thing” will not allow him to sit down for extended periods of time, and thus he is unable to type a post. So yea me!!

I’d like to call him a pussy, but knowing how much tolerance he has for pain, if he’s wasn’t truly hurting, I wouldn’t hear a peep out of him. In fact…

Let’s say if someone were to cut his left arm off; instead of moaning, whining, and crying, he would say…

“Well that’s unfortunate, and a little uncomfortable.”

So basically, he’s using me again. Seriously, it is kind of a big thing, and he doesn’t know how long he’ll be out of commission. I could be here all week!! Oh dear God, aren’t we all so lucky?

He will continue to go to work, like he is today, because the pain is not as bad when he’s standing up, and well there’s that whole child support thing.

However…

I don’t know when he’ll be able to sit down, and type again. I hope it’s soon, as I’m basically one lazy mother fucker, and like to lay around like a slug.

Especially when my basement is flooding, and I honestly don’t care if anyone gets hit by a bus.

In fact, I may get off the couch, and push you! Oh wait….too much effort, never mind.

So, to recap…Matt-Man is broken; he can’t sit to type, and my uterus hates me.

Amen, and Amen.

Although I hate to say this, because I find it annoying as fuck, I will end this post with what he does every time…

Cheers!! (Oh, how I loathe that!!)

It Ain't Easy Feelin' Green

Happy Saturday to everyone.

Well, to everyone but me. Ol’ Matty-Boy is sick.

At about 3:15 P.M. yesterday, I got dizzy…every sweat gland in my body opened up, and then…it happened.

Projectile vomiting on a scale not seen since Karen Carpenter stuck her finger down her throat after eating turkey, mashed potatoes, and stuffing on Thanksgiving night back in 1981.

The headliner of my vomitous vaudeville show was a fried egg sandwich that Schmoop had made for me at around noon yesterday.

I got most of it in the toilet but I did ruin the rug that sits in front of the shower, and some found its way to my lower legs.

It was NOT good. Needless to say I had to call in sick to work, which is a financial bummer. It was a last minute call too, so I felt bad about that, but Holy Cow, I was dying.

My head still hurts. My stomach still feels funky. I still feel clammy and my body is one big ache.

The only reason I am typing this is because after lying on the couch for nearly 15 hours, I had to get up for a little bit.

So, I will be spending my Saturday recovering so I can work my usual 11-7 shift on Sunday. I want to thank Little Bill for filling in for me at the last minute. Thanks, dude!!

Before I go, something on a lighter note. We just received the new 2009-2010 Clark County Yellowbook.

I always peruse the new phone book when it comes out, because, well, I’m a dork that way. Anyhoo, this edition contains a comedic gem in one of its advertisements in the Physician section.

What is it, you ask? Take a look below…

Ha. Sometimes one's name determines one's future career, no?

Cheers!!

Help Me Kelly, I'm Feelin' Green

Hi Kids…

See that picture on the right there?

That is our couch/my bed. That is where I sleep, eat, and watch TV.

I call her, “Kelly”…I love Kelly.

She comforts me while I slumber or enjoy a cup of hot coffee while watching the morning news.

She’s a good, good, woman. Today, I need her more than usual.

After managing to escape this past winter and spring without the flu or even much of a cold, I have been stricken by a virulent cold virus.

I think I picked it up while hanging out Saturday with an incredibly adorable 13 year old boy. My son, you perverts, my son!! Jeez.

Little did I know that while we laughed, tossed the football, and sat together watching ESPN, he was also conducting a full-frontal germ warfare attack upon me.

He’s fine now…I feel like crap. And not just any kind of crap…

The kind of crap one might experience after a night of consuming Vienna Sausages, corned beef hash, jalapeno poppers, and cheap Tequila…

Served together in a bowl full of Dick Cheney’s man juices gleaned from his Vice-Presidential prick as he watched Apocalypse Now.

Yeah, that’s exactly the type of crap that I feel like. Not good.

So, have a good day, and I will respond and cruise the internets as best I can, but for the most part I will be laying on top of Kelly...

At least until, I go to pick up my adorable virus factory from school. After that, I am going to drag my ass to work tonight.

If you feel compelled to do so, and you have even the slightest concern for my well-being, send me some soup; soup would be nice. Or, a nice, cozy tit shot of yourself. I like tits.

Until, well…um, until whenever…

Cheers!!

Excuse Me While I Dehydrate...

I am under the weather to day with a wide variety of flu-like symptoms...a plugged up head, a hacky cough, nausea, and some loose yet colorful discharges from all orifices. So today I am re-posting a Haircare Joe post. Ladies and Gentlemen, from September 7, 2006 I give you the following...See you tomorrow, I hope!!


Hair Care Joe and I were near the end of the semester at BGSU. For most, the end of the semester is a time for focus, forethought, and finals. For me…not so much. I worked very hard at enjoying the ENTIRE college experience, not just the drudgery of academia. It was, in my opinion, time to party.

Sure, there had been partying throughout the semester. The best outings were when we would go to a party off-campus at someone’s house or apartment, and the host had no clue who the hell we were. We, of course had a right to be there, because of the obligatory, “Friend of a Friend of a Friend Party Law”.

Beer Bongs were big back then, and I became quite good at handling the receiving end of one. After a few of those, the fun would get underway. We found it hilarious to pick up the host’s camera that was sitting on the kitchen table and proceed to take pictures of ourselves. When said host had the film developed, he or she would have no idea who the hell the people in the pictures were. One of our crew had a penchant for pilfering women’s nightgowns and dresses from their closets and wore them on Sundays as we watched football. He would always say, “They just feel right.” This is the same guy who was hauled into the back of a paddy wagon during the busting up of a party.

You see, one night we were at a party that evidently drew noise complaints from the neighbors. When the cops arrived, our cohort in question was standing on the front porch with a good buzz going on. He stated quite loudly, “Holy Crap, look at all the pigs!!” Just then, an officer emerged from the bushes and grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to escort him to the van. Although drunk, our friend kept his quick wits about himself, and said, “C’mon occifer, I was talking about the women.” He was ticketed for public drunkenness, and dropped off at Doyt L. Perry Stadium, better known in Bowling Green circles as “BFE”.

Now, allow me to get back to the semester ending blow out that Hair Care and I had. Joe seemed to be stressed of late, so I decided to ease his anxiety by showing him a Friday night of fun. I asked him if he wanted to tie one on, and after threatening to mess his hair up, he graciously acquiesced.

We started by drinking some beer and Champagne Velvet in our room, while we listened to a Flock of Seagulls crank out “Space Age Love Song” through my crappy stereo. Our buddies Paul and Webb stopped by to imbibe with us. Good Times…Good Times.

With a nice state of inebriation developing, we proceeded to McDonald’s to prepare our stomachs for the forthcoming assault upon their linings. After Joe ordered his food, I said to him, “Your money is no good tonight. I’m buying.” I paid. We ate. We then rambled down to the bar district.We hit every stinkin’ bar in the city. We drank pitchers here, pitchers there, with shots of 151 everywhere. Good Lord, Nero would have been proud of the way we debauched ourselves and an entire community. Neither of us remembered how or when we got back to our dorm room, but it was evident the next morning that we had made it.

After shaking the grain fed fog from our heads, Joe said to me, “Man, that was a great time Matt. Thanks a lot.” I said, "Aw Joe, you don’t have to thank me.” With a look of appreciation upon his face, he replied, “I sure as hell do have to thank you. You bought the beer, bought my Big Mac, and paid for all of the drinks at the bar. Hell, you never have money. How did you manage that?”

I smiled, grabbed my towel, and as I walked by him on my way to the shower, I told him, “I sold your textbooks.”

I’ll see you all Monday. Have a great weekend…Go Notre Dame, and as always…Cheers!!

And Now Our Moment of Hinn…

“I've known moments when I've not only felt the presence of God, I've smelled the presence of God.”

--Benny Hinn