Scrotum

Cliff and I whip out the scrotum song...

Peace.

Break Truck Burrito

My God I've finally done it. You've asked, and now you shall receive. Here, for the first time ever on the internet, is a shitty (recorded over the phone), punky version of Break Truck Burrito. Right click the link below and choose "Open Link in New Window" to sing along. Enjoy...

I was at the site one day
When break time rolled around
I undid my buckle
And I laid my tool pouch down
Went to the break truck
To see what I could see
A break truck burrito
Was staring back at me

Chorus:
It was a break truck burrito
They always give me gas
A break truck burrito
It'll tear out your ass
If you have one I hope you don't
Have your good drawers on
Tell the foreman I'll be back in a while
I'm going to the Porta-Jon

I snached up that greasy burrito
And chowed that fucker down
Not ten minutes later
My gut made an awful sound
I could feel the loose stool brewing
Deep inside of me
Thought it was gas but I learned my lesson
When I filled up my BVD's

(Chorus)

Now you may think this story
Really isn't true
But if you did my laundry
You'd believe it too
Those break truck burritos
Aren't made with meat and beans
They fill them up with colon cleanse
To make you shit your jeans

(Chorus)

Tell the foreman I'll be back in a while
I'm going to the Porta-Jon
Tell the foreman I'll be back in a while
I'm going to the Porta-Jon

-Written, composed, and performed by AT
(© copyright 1997)

Peace.

Crack Whore

A few years ago, I was working in Palm Beach when a few buddies of mine showed up in town. My work schedule was extremely hectic and I hadn't had any time to party at all, so I jumped at the chance to toss back a few when they called me and asked if I'd like to hit some bars in downtown West Palm.

Later that night, Doug picked me up and we headed out to meet the rest of the crew at a little Irish pub five miles or so from my hotel. As is usually the case when some friends and I get a few drinks down, someone made a comment about my scrotum ring and peaked the interest of all who had yet see it. Some of you know that it only takes one "Lemme see" and two Crown and Cokes for me to drop my zipper and BLAM... you've got an eyeful of nutsac. So is the case here. The girls were giggling, the guys were wincing, and I was beginning to get really fuck'n drunk.

After that, I don't remember much of what happened in the bar (no surprise there) except that I couldn't find anyone I knew, including my ride. So using my sound judgment (right), I decided that walking five miles back to the hotel at 2:30 in the morning was my best option. I'd hoofed nearly halfway when the sparkling neon sign of a convenient store drew me like a barracuda to a gold watch. I was in luck too... Cheesy Poofs were buy one get one free.

With a bag under each arm and a bottle of Gatorade I stepped out the door and headed for the sidewalk, when a hunk-of-shit car pulls up next to me. "You need a ride?" a woman's voice called from inside. God knows why, but I said, "Sure," and hopped into the passenger seat.

As we hit the asphalt, the chick pulls a single cigarette and a lighter out of her pocket and attempts to hold the smoke and drive with one hand, and light the thing with the other. Now, I was drunk mind you, but she was sure having trouble lighting that thing because she was just holding the flame there like it wouldn't light. After a few long seconds of wondering what the hell was taking so long, I concentrated on focusing my bleary eyes and came to the startling realization that what she was holding was not a cigarette. Nope. Definitely a glass pipe in the same shape as one. Stunned, I asked, "IS THAT CRACK?" "Yeah," she answered nonchalantly. "Wow. I've just never seen anyone smoke crack before." Here I am, in a car traveling 55 mph, with a woman that's steering a stick shift with one finger, AND smoking a crack pipe. It's at this point that I realize, this was not a very good idea.

Luckily for me, I made it back to the hotel in one piece (she was obviously a pro). In exchange for the ride, I gave her an entire bag of Cheesy Poofs. I figured that she'd need them, although I don't really know whether or not crack gives you the munchies.

Moral of the story: Take a Taxi. I have only taken a ride from a stranger twice, and I was drunk both times (imagine that), but the other story... well, I'll post it later but suffice to say that it was much more scary.

Peace.

Nolan's T-shirt (see Thoughts? below) 

T-shirts available soon...

Black or white... reserve yours today! 

Peace.

As you can see...

I can post pictures now (sweet!)... cool, huh?

New Year's Eve in South Beach... (man that flash is bright!) 

Peace.

The Swamp

Ahhhh, college football. There's no better time of year. The smell of beer and charcoal exaggerate the excitement in the air surrounding college stadiums across the nation every Saturday morning.

A couple of years ago, at the Florida/Aurburn game in The Swamp, some of my buddies and I made the trek to Gainesville for a couple days of football and parting. We arrived in Gainesville well before the game started and began to drink heavily. Very heavily. In fact, if I remember correctly, before the game even started I was doing genital origami for everyone tailgating around us. You know, The Turkey Leg, The Flying Squirrel, and The Plum. Anyway, after the game we made our way across University Blvd. to a bar called The Swamp (not to be confused with the stadium). For some odd reason, we all decided that hanging our nuts out in the bar was a great idea. I, to this day, don't remember how it all came about, but I will admit that it was probably my idea. So there we are, all five of us standing by the front door hanging brain, when a midget walks by. No shit. What are the chances of that?! It just so happens, THIS midget works for the bar we are in. So she comes around the corner and what is the first thing to hit her at eye level? A whole covey of cojones. Five guys in their late 20's with genitalia hanging out of their zippers. So she is obviously horrified. Maybe if there was a 15 inch... naw, she would still have been horrified. Anyway, Shorty runs over and tells the manager that she's going to sue the bar or something because he comes over all pissed off, and says that we can't hang our dicks out in the bar. I quickly point out to him that nary a one of us is hanging a penis out in his bar, and that we would all put our boys up and be good for the rest of the evening. "Get out!!" he screamed. So we all headed for the door, struggling to tuck our jewels back into their respective places and zip up, when manager Stalin says, "You guys come back tomorrow." "OHHHHHHH! TOMORROW is hang your nuts out night!!" I said sarcastically. This did not sit well with Stalin, although my buddies did get a good chuckle out of it. "Get out!!" he yelled for the second time. Oh well, next door to the Purple Porpoise we go.

Moral of the story: If your going to hang your balls out in a crowded bar, be certain there are no midgets nearby.

Peace.