Enough about my cock, seriously.

Last night God descended upon me in my sleep and told me I was being vulgar and misusing something very sacred (hint: its in usually in my pants, and it hangs between my legs, unless I'm in an intimate situation with a lady, or massaging it) for entertainment purposes.

One band that needs to get called out on their shit is Coldplay. For some reason this band is respected. I can understand why they are liked.....by a shit-ton of people, but I can't understand why they are respected by anyone. They are liked because, close your eyes now, say I'm your typical frat boy. I've got a backwards hat on, like my beer cheap and in copious amounts (this is true about non-frat Phil, though he also likes good beer...on occasion....which would mean when he isn't trying to get drunk....which is rarely), my hobbies include watching sports, playing amateur sports, not thinking, and slipping ruffies into girls drinks. I hear a band on the radio and behold what is this? A band I can listen to while I'm sexing a lady....when she's conscious? What more? I can play this when I visit mom and pops. Fuckin sweet bro! Coldplay is this band.

So literally in my dreams, kind of that half awake half asleep mode where you're thinking, but it feels like your sleeping I got the idea to post about funny stories from a little adventure I had. I think it was the summer of 2003 when I went on tour with the band I was in at the time (myspace.com/conductingfromthegrave) around the country for five weeks. (Since leaving this band they have gone downhill. One of the members admitted to me that they 'simplified' their sound to be more appealing to the bread and butter of bands of this type, the pack of insecure high school kids whose disposable income greases the wheels of not only the majority of the hardcore and metal scenes, but every single subscene between these two genres.) I digress. So we decided to do a tour with a band called Light This City from the Bay area. All in all it was fun, it also made me realize that I wouldn't want to be in a band full time. Some quick little stories I can recall, I'll try and add pictures to this when I get home.

- The van we took belonged to one of the guitar players. It was a total piece of shit, and he was a fucking idiot when it came to any sort of vehicle maintenance. Hence after driving thousands of miles we take it in to get the oil changed and inspected, and the service man says "good thing you came in when you did she only had a few drops of oil left in her." The owner of the van at that point says, "oh yeah I forgot to check that before we left."

- The day before we leave for tour we have a going away party (which I showed up late to, because I was seeing Undying play with Embrace the End, yeah if you live in Sacramento, where the fuck were you?). When I finally do show up everyone is already quite drunk. I'm getting hugs from people who have never hugged me. Ugly bitches are swarming. Uglier men are swarming the uglier bitches. Its chaos. I vaguely remember singing happy birthday to someone. I digress. This proceeds into one of those all night parties; its 5AM and I'm in a hot tub still drinking with the three or four other people that are awake. We leave the hot tub and behold someone is asleep on the couch. I do what any drunk person would do at 5AM and don't tea bag him, but actually rather place my dick on his lips (Fuck I can't go one blog entry without mentioning it). We fail to get the camera phone picture of the actual event, but that is hardly the end of this story. We leave for tour and we drive five or six days to the first show (Yes we are VERY FUCKING retarded) where we are to meet up with Light This City. During this time everyone other than the victim of this prank is informed of its occurrence. As this point numerous references start being made about "Man if a dude put his dick on my lips I would fucking kill them. Would you (insert victim's name here)?" You get the picture. Come about the fourth day of the tour we are parked in a parking lot we are planning on spending the night in. We are drinking a beverage that blew our mind: Milwaukees best. It blew our mind because it was something like $3.50 for a twelve pack. Beat that costco. The victim of the prank we think is out of ear-range and someone says something along "the best part of the jokes we've been saying for the last three days is that he doesn't know he got dick on his lips." Well the victim hears this and stews in anger for about half an hour. We realize he knows and he is pissed, someone makes yet another reference to dick being placed on the victim's lips and this provokes one of the strangest reactions to a practical joke ever. It needs to be said that we are standing around the trailer hitch between the van and the trailer. The victim comes out of seemingly nowhere, quite batmanish with his pants down and his dick out shouting "You think its so funny?! How 'bout I put my dick on your lips?!" Now, navigating around a trailer hitch requires serious highstepping, like you see in videos of military or football training. With the victim straddling the trailer hitch, cock in his hand, confronting another member of the band (always seemed strange that he didn't choose to target me), the other member of the band, known for his short temper says "Don't wag your fucking dick at me asshole." and pushes him, causing him to trip over the trailer hitch and fall to the asphalt dick in hand. Talk about utter defeat. So sometime later, we play a show with a cool band called The Concubine and we are chilling in a Burger King parking lot, because that is where we are going to spend the night. I proceed down the path of getting too drunk too early. This results in accusations that I peed on the back of The Concubines trailer, which I swear I peed to the side of. Regardless, I ended up passing out in the driver seat while the party raged on. Needless to say, that night revenge was had. A dick was placed on my lips, though not the original victims. Worse it belonged to a particularly slutty member of Light this City, I think he gave me beard crabs.

- The previously mentioned slutty member of LTC had a chick from Myspace meet him after our show in NYC (Worst show of the tour. period. fuck you NYC.). What was interesting about this was that her parents were driving her around. So this series of events takes place:
1. Chick doesn't come to our show
2. Chick and her family show up afterwards, and he gets a rid back to their house with her parents, with us following them.
3. We go party on the shore of Long Island while he eats dinner with her family. While at the shore we run into some very stereotypical New Jersey residents who, upon learning we're from California say "ehhh theres a buncha fags out there isn't there?" (Fuck you as well New Jersey) Also, a cop rolls up on us with a considerable pill of beer cans on the ground by our van, asks us if we're all 21, which we say yes to despite it not being the truth. He simply says "Pick up those cans and get the fuck outta here."
4. We sleep in the van outside of this chicks house while dude proceeds to get a blow job from this chick, WHILE HER YOUNGER SISTER IS SLEEPING IN THE SAME ROOM.
5. In the morning her family cut up some watermelon for us and it was delicious. We also realized that the previously mentioned victim of the dick on the lips (the original victim, not yours truely) looks a hell of a lot like Steven Seigal when his hair is in a pony tail. Resulting in this picture of him breaking someone's neck, just like Seigal would.

This is all quite a bit of writing. Carpal tunnel is definitely setting in right now. I'll write more some other time.

More Penis Madam??? Yes Please.

This will be a quick one. I have about ten minutes left of work and thought I would tell this story.

On the music end, one very wise thing a reviewer said was that the Beatles are the most important band because they essentially started off as the Backstreet Boys, took drugs, and then turned into Radiohead. I thought that was quite profound, and goes very much against the title of this blog. Stop. Penis time.

So I'm gonna guess this story takes place sometime around seventh or eighth grade, which would have made me 12 or 13 at the time. Me and my friend, at the time (I'm partially able to date this story because this particular bag of dicks stopped being my friend freshman year) Colin are playing at my house. Just your typical boyhood games baseball, kickball, tag, ookie on the cookie, you get the picture. All of a sudden I notice a burning in my loins. And I'm not kidding you this is very much a BURNING in my LOINS. I go inside, glance down my pants and I'll be goddamned if my balls have not grown by probably 75%. Now I'm a young man, I'm going through puberty, I expect some growing pains, but this seems a bit over the top. Alarmed, while admittedly kind of self-impressed with my much larger balls, and in consider pain, I decide to tell my parents about this situation. Colin must have been sent home or something (maybe thats why he stopped being my friend) because we went to the hospital. Turns out I was experiencing a testicular teasion.

Below would be what a normal pair of testicles in a scrotum would look like:

When one experiences a testicular teasion, your testicles look more like this:

What this MS Paint masterpiece fails to convey is that the intertwining of the strings that carry blood to the testicles, is tight, tight enough to cut off said blood flow. This is where my pain came from. Good times. Mind you I’m still a virgin at this point, I’m not even sure I’ve learned to masturbate at this time, so at this point the score is:

ME: 0

BALLS: 1

And what a vicious one that is.

Surgery was quickly done and now, though I’ve never seen it, I apparently have something along the lines of a splint in my scrotum so that my two boys can’t get intertwined again. I should have just asked for a vasectomy while they were in there, cause I support adoption, but I don’t think I even knew what one was at the time. Oh to be young and dumb, with enormous swollen balls.

One of the best parts of this story though is my first time back to soccer practice when the coach told all the kids that I had surgery on my arm. I never knew if my parents told him that, or if they told him the truth and he covered for me, but I was soooooo relieved. I think I’ll ask my Mom if she remembers. Till next time, keep yo head up shawty, and guys, keep your balls separated.

THE SECOND HALF OF THIS ENTRY IS A CONTINUATION OF A STORY STARTED IN THE FIRST POST.
All right, so it is time for an update to this personal crisis. Of course, given the title of this heap of turds, it wouldn’t be appropriate to make a comment on music. That said, this rant isn’t directed against music critics, but to all the people that say that As I Lay Dying is a shitty band for newjack metal fans. I contest this based on two things:
1. The band is named after a William Faulkner book, which doesn’t sound metal at all. But Faulkner took the name from a line in The Odyssey in which Agamemnon says “"As I lay dying, the woman with the dog's eyes would not close my eyes as I descended into Hades." We all know that anything that references Hades is pretty metal. (1.5. Faulkner also wrote The Sound and the Fury, which was a pretty intense book, often considered one of the most difficult books in modern literature to read, difficulty reading is hella metal).
2. As I Lay Dying is in fact not a band in the conventional sense. They are in fact the product of advanced music analysis software, and powerful musical executives. While the band claims to be Christian, make no mistake about it, they were spawned from nowhere other than Satan’s loins. Music execs somewhere (I guess at Metal Blade), decided they wanted to cash in on the metal scene. They employed the most powerful music analysis software available to that scanned the history of popular music to understand what song structures people enjoy. The software then looked at the history of metal, to determine which key everything should be in (the answer is C# minor of course). The software then created songs based on this formula, the music execs hired some douche bags to play them and thus As I Lay Dying. But there is more, Frail Words Collapse was very simple, straightforward, and was well received. The previous mentioned computer software noticed the trend of the shitty, concept sophomore cd, thus Shadows are Security was produced, and resultantly sucked. In the historical trend of a return to form, the third full length An Ocean Between Us was a simple, straightforward, but more beefed up version of Frail Words Collapse.
Such is why As I Lay Dying isn’t a bad band, cause they aren’t a band….they are a computer.

Enough about that matter though; if you are actually reading this there is probably one thing on your mind, the state of my penis. If you are a foxy young lady who is d.t.f. holla at cha boi. So after days of suffering from a painful, swollen penis, growing more convinced with each passing hour that I was the proud new owner of the clap or herpes or whatever the fuck else, I thought it might now be a bad idea to actually investigate my dick a little bit. I’m immediately wished I had done this a lot earlier, because my problem became abundantly clear. Below is what a typical uncircumcised penis looks like flaccid.







It was entirely unnecessary for me to show you that, I was just trying to showcase my amazing postmodern rendition of male sexuality as composed in ms paint. Below though is what is looks like erect, with the foreskin back.









Take note of the little black triangle on the bottom. That is actually a flap of skin that connects the inside of the foreskin to the head, it’s purpose? I don’t know, and I’m willing to bet, as we continue to evolve into what I’m really hoping is gargoyles, this will disappear. Anyways, probably about three years or so ago, while having sexual intercourse with a particularly inexperienced (see also: tight) girlfriend, this started to tear. As you can imagine, this was quite painful. Over time though it healed and I was able to continue knocking boots without problem for years to come. Well low and behold, upon closely examining my dong in the shower, this old problem had returned. This was undoubtedly brought on by a particularly bad hump session on New Years, during which, quite drunk, I proceeded to pound away on my partner for what I’m going to guess was 2 and a half hours, the entire time of which I’m thinking “This is bad, really, really bad,” using all my will power just to keep it up, and ultimately having one of the lamest orgasms ever. The next morning my partner turns and says something along the lines of “Oh you with the biggest cock I’ve ever had, we had really bad drunken sex last night didn’t we?” Indeed. Indeed.

Meanwhile, in the present, with my initial compulsion to clean my penis for the first four/five days of pain, I was in fact making it worse, pulling the foreskin back numerous times a day, undoing progress in the healing process. After a couple days of minimal cleaning (not fully pulling back the foreskin) and patting the area dry after peeing, I’m proud to say my penis has returned to normal. I must be off now to slay a dragon with my mighty sword of fire and ice, light and shadow, Hall and Oates, and Turner and Hooch.

The big first one

So the name of this blog comes from the idea I had of sort of breaking myths of bands that were overrated, underrated etc. Case in point being Bob Dylan, you do not get away with the title of "Best Songwriter Ever" when your entire career was a few good early years followed by literally decades of musical shit. The same man that wrote "Tambourine Man" wrote "Man Gave Name To All the Animals." One great song, and one absolutely atrocious song nets you a very mediocre career; such is the case with Bob Dylan. But I transgress......

Now this blog is about bigger things. More personal things. Right now there is only one major personal issue I'm having. Well I suppose not one, but one that rises far and above all others. The question that is seriously haunting my mind is "Do I seriously have an std?"

To many this might be a very clear cut case, especially given the symptoms I'm having. Let's look at them:
1. My penis is incredibly sore and irritated and has been for the last three days.
2. There is very much some swelling going on.
3. It burns when I pee.

Returning to my second symptom though, and this is why I'm not exactly convinced I have an std is that the swelling is in my foreskin. That's right a fucking foreskin, cause for some retarded ass reason my parents decided to go against the teachings of the Hebrews, 95% of society, and even the very same decision they made twice for my two older brothers, and decided to not have me circumcised.

Now I know for many of you this takes you into a world you've never been in, that of the limited few who have a proverbial shield for their literal second head. So it obviously warrants some detailing.

Pros of not being circumcised:
Supposed higher levels of sexual excitement due to a lack of destimulation of the nerve-centric head of the penis from being exposed

Cons of not being circumcised:
Hoes think it looks strange.
Feelings of alienation when watching porn.
Feelings of alienation when changing in gym class.
Serious hesitancy to convert to Judaism as an adult.
Most importantly though is you get infections.

Now in all honesty, these are quite avoidable, all it requires is pulling the proverbial shield away from the literal second head a little bit in the shower to let the little guy drink up a some water, rinse himself down. It is for this reason I haven't had an infection on my snausage in about twenty years, leaving me in a position in which I can't really remember what they are like; but I know they are similar to what I'm experiencing now.

Logistically, one might quickly ask, "well if you haven't had one of these in forever, and you've coincidentally busted out four different chicks in the last three months, what in the world are the odds that this is just a lack of cleaning on your part?" Fair question I would respond, but I there is a culmination of factors to be considered.
1. I've started showering less frequently. Instead of everyday I've stepped back to every other day, namely because I like how my hair sits down after a day or two without shampoo.
2. The last two showers I took before this onset of unwelcome and very literally burning loins were very rushed ones. Bitches were on their way, and I either hadn't showered already for a day or two, or I had to get the scent of the first one off me.
3. Like I said, I can't remember what this self-brought-on infections due to uncleanliness are like. I do remember them being incredibly uncomfortable and lasting for a few days.

So all I can ask for at this point in time is for your prayers and sympathies. If there are any hoes out there down to suck some swollen, infected as dong, then holla at me.

My next entry won't be nearly as graphic, but will again pertain to my crotchal region, as will most of my enteries, cause as I imagine my great, great grandfather that I never met would say "the cock is where the heart is."