Happy New Year!

Charlie Wrigley wrote this just before lunchtime:

Enjoy your New Years Eve Boston!

Though most of you go to much cooler places like NYC, or Vegas for the unimaginative sensory overload addicts.

If you didn’t go away, or home for the college break, enjoy yourselves! If you still don’t have plans, don’t fret! I’ve got some great ideas for you…

-Stay home and watch the ball drop with Regis! He’s an entertaining guy and the new face of eternal youth, because as much as people say Dick Clark hasn’t aged over the years he caught up with himself quick. He looks old. And old people are depressing because captain obvious says that they remind us of what we have to look forward to.

-Egg the drunks. Pretty self explanatory. Aim for their faces.

-The T is open all night my friends and renting out a cart is so cheap that it’s free. Ring in the New Year on the Train! Remember it’s BYOB, and bring a little bail money with ya.

-Pay the cover at a bar, and once you’re inside, fuckin’ rob it! They’ve been robbing you since you turned 21 and even before at some places (we drank at the littlest bar when we were 16) take back what’s yours. The mark-up on booze is about 300% so whatever your take is, it’s completely justifiable. Oh, and bring a lot of bail money in case something goes wrong.

Have a safe and Happy New Year!

The Phat Phree top 50 of 2005

Charlie Wrigley wrote this around lunchtime:

My favorite website, (for many reasons but mostly because I’m a staff writer there) has their top 50 articles of 2005. All of them, hilarious. Check out the comics of the year too. Monster load! - Yeah right.

www.thephatphree.com

y’all come back now y’hear.

Sick Day

Charlie Wrigley wrote this in the early morning:

You know what? I don’t feel like going in to work today! Maybe I’m sick. Maybe I have a hangover. Maybe I don’t feel like sitting in traffic on I93 for half the day. Maybe the thought of going in to that office today makes me feel sick and hung over. That’s it… I’m calling my boss Rick to tell him he won’t be seeing my sexy face in the office today. I advise you to do the same. Maybe we can hit up the Plazahhh together and grab a banana smoothie with an energy boost shot; I don’t know, we’ll play it by ear. On that rather thin premise here is a list of 25 original ways to call in sick and throw that asshole boss of yours a curveball in the process.

25. Call-in singing the immortal words of Foreigner with a falsetto voice: “I’m hot blooded, check it and see, I’ve got a fever of a hundred and three.”

24. Hey Rick I’ve got a nasty cold. Say, is your wife sick? Huh, that’s weird she is the only one that I exchanged bodily fluids with this past weekend… No, no nothing like that, we just kissed a little and she gave me a handy for like two minutes. No big deal.

23. Sorry Rick I can’t make it in today, my car is in the shop. Yeah, I’m getting sick rims put on. They’re sick Rick, sick.

22. No way Rick not today. The office cleaning girls and I were up all night and most of the morning pounding tequila and eating Quaaludes. Guadalupe and I are gonna take a little siesta now, know what I mean Rick?

21. I’m so embarrassed Rick. I shit the bed last night. I’m telling you this because you’re my best friend. I feel like I could tell you anything. Now tell me a secret Rick. Tell me.

20. I’m cataloging all of my VHS cassettes of Meredith Baxter Birney’s movies of the week. She is so sexy Rick, agreed?

19. I can’t find my pager… Well what if someone wants to buy some of my hashish Rick? No, no, I better stay close to home in case someone is looking to score.

18. Not today Rick, I’m playing Frisbee with the neighbors kids. K thru 5 has a half day.

17. Rick, my pet llama took a huge dump all over the carpet, furniture and ceiling. It’s going to take me all day, maybe most of tomorrow to clean this mess up. Rick, you knew I had a pet llama when you hired me! It’s said “have a pet Llama” right on my resume.

16. I’m training my voice for my American Idol audition. Fuck you Rick! I have talent, you’ll see. The whole world will see.

15. The wife says I gotta lay down some new mulch in the yard. If you want to tell we don’t need new mulch Rick, be my guest, be my guest.

14. Sorry Rick, I’ve had a hard-on all morning and I can’t get rid of it. I think it might have something to do with that new Pope. He has been in my dreams all month Rick. All month. Stupid sexy Benedict.

13. The Blue Collar Comedy Tour has an all day marathon on Comedy Central, Rick. All fucking day! Hilarity is spelled F-O-X-W-O-R-T-H-Y git ‘r done!

12. I have to drive my mom to get a colonoscopy. I know this is the fourth one this month Rick, what can I say? She loves them.

11. I’m taking a bus full of retards to “make your own pizza day” at Papa Gino’s.

10. I have to stay home and finish this fiber optic lighting system. Yeah, it’s gonna be great, I’m doing a whole constellation thing, wait ’til you see it Rick!

9. I volunteered to observe a hysterectomy, I’ve had this marked on the calendar for months Rick.

8. I can’t make it in today Rick, I am avenging my step-brother Angelo’s murder. Wish me luck!

7. The old lady cut up all of my ties. What a bitch! And all because she found out I love that sit-com Joey. Either that or the fact that she caught me in our bed with a hooker. Who can really tell what sets ‘em off huh Rick?

6. Emeril is doing a show on lasagna Wouldn’t miss it if you paid me. Yeah Rick I know I have Tivo, but what if some asshole talks about it before I get to watch it? Then what? The whole experience is ruined.

5. I have my book of the month club tonight, and I haven’t even gotten past the first seven pages of my Barely Legal that we are all going to discuss. Do you know how embarrassing it is if you haven’t read the whole thing? Of course you do, you have only one testicle.

4. I have to get all of my hubcaps rotated Rick - Mechanics orders! I know, I should have just got those sick rims I wanted.

3. I have decided to finally get that circumcision that I have had my eye on and I’ve finally saved enough to have it done. I love pain and suffering Rick, that’s why I am always so happy in our three hour Monday morning meetings that start at eight a.m.!

2. Fuck you Rick that’s why!

1. My magic eight ball said that the outlook for me coming in today, “did not look good” - and I don’t mess with the eight ball.

Return Dash!

Charlie Wrigley wrote this in the early afternoon:

Get tons of shitty presents?

Get on down to fi-LENE’S.

Short or cash? Return that shit Jack! Why fill up your closet with sweaters that will never see the light of day?

If your feeling charitable, give those ugly digs to a homeless person. They don’t care about fashion, and neither does your aunt, apparantly.

Did you get a frankinsence and mur scented Yankee candle? I did! That is an automatic re-gift or re-turn. Jesus Christ was the last person to get mur as a gift and if you ever pull that shit again, I whip out my hammer, nails and a cross fool.

Christmas is a season of returning. Get into the spirit! You also get to see how cheap your loved ones really are. You get to find out exactly what you are worth to them, to the cent.

If I have to go to T.J. Max to return your gift, we may never speak again.

Of course, if T.J. Max ever decides to advertise here… then I should be so lucky to get a gift from such a fine establishment.

STOLEN

Charlie Wrigley wrote this mid-afternoon:

Found this on Craigs List. It’s kind of funny. But, I’m not sure who is worse the college kids or the uptightie-whitie’s.

welcome to beacon hill! congratulations on living in one of the oldest, most beautiful neighborhoods in america!
as someone planning to live here year-round on a more-or-less permanent basis and as someone who was dumb enough to actually BUY my apartment, i would like to share some of my accumulated neighborhood wisdom with you all.
but before i get to the tips, there is something you should all know. all homeowners on beacon hill REALLY HATE YOU. (i, personally, dont hate all of you: that girl who was in the bh market the other weekend - low low sweatpants, sweet belly ring, sleepy eyes and tangled hair - you i like.)
the good news is, we don’t hate JUST you. naw, that’d be mean. we hate, in descending order, YOU, YOUR PARENTS (those peabrains who are so fucking soft in the head and apparently thick in the wallet that they are willing to pay good money for you to infest this neighborhood), and lastly, YOUR LANDLORDS (who bought your place in 1966 for like $5,000 and have since put $0 into its upkeep and are willing to rent to pretty much anyone; DIE SOON, PEOPLE, WOULDJA? let junior sell the place, c’mon).

on to the tips:

1) TRASH. trash days are MONDAY, WEDNESDAY, and FRIDAY. notice i have excluded some days. ask your teacher which ones if this is unclear. it is NOT acceptable to place your trash outside on these OTHER DAYS. also, please place your trash in ACTUAL TRASH BAGS (you know, those big black plastic things your Dad used; you can BUY these with MONEY at the hardware store on charles street). little fucking handle shopping bags from generica places like pottery barn or banana fucking republic or wherever are not a substitute. we don’t want to look at all your shit flying all over the neighborhood, nor do we want all your bud light cans rolling down the street. also, permit me to point out that it is also unacceptable to DROP YOUR TRASH FROM YOUR APARTMENT WINDOW to the curb. [sigh] i REALLY shouldn’t have to point out the obvious, but this advice is based on things i’ve actually witnessed.

2) PETS. ask yourself: have i ever shouted “WOOHOO” at the top of my lungs past midnight on a thursday evening in an otherwise perfectly quiet neighborhood? did i feel cool afterward? did my friends think i was cool, too? then you may not have a pet. if you insist on having a pet, at least pick a cat and keep it inside. “but i’m like, mature, n stuff. cant i, like, git a dog?” No. You may not. OK, so you got a dog. [sigh] when you walk it is NOT OK for it to go on the sidewalk. we’re talking EITHER #1 OR #2 here people. and for fucks sake, please PICK UP THE #2 and TAKE IT AWAY. this ain’t Paris, folks. “but i luvs them flag-wavin’ surrender monkeys. cain’t this be Paris?” No. it cannot. and if i see some of you pulling the ol’ Dump N Run, believe me i am not above picking it up and flinging it at you from close range like a real monkey. seriously. grow the fuck up.

3) CARS. don’t bring one. as i mentioned, we already dont like you, so parking your fucking camaro or whatever for weeks at a stretch does nothing to further endear you to the community. have mommy drop your ass off. evidence shows your parents are not exactly overburdened in the brainbox anyway, so OK, naturally you brought your fucking car. i guess you had to get here from west bumbfuck somehow. OK. deep breath. LEARN TO FUCKING PARALLEL PARK. six inches from the curb is about the MOST you should be. practice. bang up your neighbors’ cars in west bumbfuck. also, MOVE YOUR FUCKING SHITBOX ON STREETCLEANING DAYS. i swear to god, the police should just bash everyones’ cars with a baseball bat instead of handing out those pussy tickets. the irony is, ITS YOUR FUCKING TRASH THEY’RE TRYING TO CLEAN UP. not only did you put it there, you’re keeping them from picking up after you. you think this is a fucking game, dont you.

let’s see. what other gems do i have for you.

4) BICYCLES/SCOOTERS. not much to say here, other than any guy with a scooter clearly has some masculinity issues and should seek therapy. oh, i know what i wanted to mention. those pretty wrought-iron fences around the trees we have here? and the quaint gas-burning streetlights? and the few living trees we have here? DONT LOCK YOUR FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT BIKE TO THEM. THEY ARE NOT BIKE RACKS, PLACED HERE FOR YOUR FUCKING SCHWINN, OKAY? i’m gonna get me one o them really big skilsaw things and go around the entire hill and free all the trees and fences and lampposts (i may have to practice an extra bit on the scooters i find - handlebars? what handlebars?)

so, to summarize:
trash: bags. monday. wednesday. friday. only.
pets: don’t.
cars: don’t.
bikes: inside.
scooters: don’t.
woohoo: don’t.

Take it easy buddy. Sell your place make a quick seventy grand and move to the burbs, where you clearly belong.

Merry Politcal Correctness!

Charlie Wrigley wrote this in the early morning:

I mean Happy Holidays.

I mean Merry Christmas.

Damnit, I’m really fucking this up!

Happy Jesus birthday, day!

Shit!

Happy Kwanzaa… Oh you’re not black? So you are Black? Wait, wait wait. So you are black and Christian? That doesn’t make any sense!

Hello Mr. Jewstein. How are you today? Right, hey excuse me I just say my buddy over there and I need to wish him a merry Christmas. Yo O’Brien…

Happy Holidays Boston. And by holidays I mean paid days off work.

Johnny Come Lately!

Charlie Wrigley wrote this just before lunchtime:

Can’t blame Damon, he’s greedy!

He left K.C. for the money.

Left Oakland for the money.

Left Boston for the money.

He said in a statement that he tried really hard to stay in Boston. That is was the “least” he could do. Whatever, you got your money, which you’re not worth. Best wishes in NY. It will good to see the old clean cut short haired Damon again. We’ll see if the old Samson adage rings true in ‘06.

Some players are loyal, some play close to their home and family. And some will go where the money is.

Johnny is just greedy, and you can’t blame him for that.

What Kind of Drunk are You #3

Charlie Wrigley wrote this just before lunchtime:

Maybe you’re a sloppy drunk? You guys are ok in my book…

Sloppy Drunks
This category is reserved mostly for the ladies. 8 appletini’s and they’re loose as a goose. Slurring and swaying. They will end up with a strange cock in their hand by the end of the night. Considered as fair game by their legless suitors. Ducks. Mud ducks if they aint very attractive. Pilots with their trusty wingmen circle these lassie’s with the hopes of having their strange penis’ in her hand before dawn. If she’s real sloppy maybe the wingman can swoop in for seconds. Unless, of course the fellas are-a-sufferin’ from whiskey dick.

Sloppy is ok, just don’t rely on me to get you home in one piece.

What Kind of Drunk are You #2

Charlie Wrigley wrote this mid-morning:

maybe you’re an aggressive drunk?

Aggressive Drunks
The fight starters. These guys are awesome, if only for entertainment value. They work out hard at the gym all week and are dying to kick someone’s fucking ass on the weekend. They may blame it on the Red Bull and Vodka or the steroids, but in the end, they have an agenda. The first chance they get to beat up on some pussy, they’ll jump on it. The shirt will come off tonight, because there will be blood shed, and there is no way any faggots are going to bleed all over his black Armani Exchange T-shirt. These guys travel in packs so watch out.

Is this you? You disgust me.

Exchange Rate

Charlie Wrigley wrote this in the early morning:

I just went on a bachelor party up in Montreal. I love going to Canada… The exchange rate is great up there… With the exchange rate my penis is like 81/2 inches long.

Back here it’s only 3.

It’s tiny.

I don’t know why I even mentioned it.

It’s not thick either it’s really thin.

And I don’t know how to use it.