I Want To Blog You Like An Animal

“I know you got it but you gotta go
I’m gonna get into the batter so the mix might glow
I hate to do it, but I did it though
I’m gonna bite into the body like the risk is no risk
I got the souped up car and what you call
Tripping on the boom bap etymological
I ride the fader and I ride it low
I’m gonna slip into the field like Han Solo.”
~~ Soul Coughing, ‘Rolling’




“When you are a lawyer, your job is to clean up the messes of others, to rubber stamp and make legal someone else’s real work, to essentially be a paper custodian for the people who actually do important things. The people at Yahoo and Cisco and Network Solutions (all our clients) actually did something; what did I do? Stupid, mindless, and ultimately irrelevant bullshit. I was a junior paper-monkey, and I hated every second of it.”
~~ Tucker Max




The quotes really have nothing to do with the rest of my blog. I just thought they were awesome. And besides, the arbitrary use of the quotes is perfect, because today is Random Blog Day! Wooo! Pop the champagne and lather your dog with expensive shampoo (if you don't have a dog, your roommate will do) because today’s blog is a celebration of sheer random sentiments I thought I’d share with you. Enjoy.




Sara and I saw Frisbee dogs perform at the baseball game the other day. The Frisbee dogs were way better athletes than the baseball players. I’d like to see a baseball player jump off a teammate’s back and catch a ball in the air. And Frisbee dogs sure as hell wouldn't lose to a team from Michigan.




I think I have a rash.
Because I’m itching to KICK SOME ASS.




So, after facing tremendous musical abuse from past women, I have devised a new method for picking up girls. I plan on walking into a bar, strutting up to a girl that looks approximately my type and isn’t wearing a wedding ring, and blurting out the title to any White Stripes song. A typical conversation might go like this:

Sketch: You’re Pretty Good Looking (For A Girl).

Girl: Excuse me?

Sketch: Your Southern Can Is Mine.

*girl slaps Sketch*


Now, at this point, I might resort to one of my old stand-by lines:

Sketch: Baby do you have some Tums, because you just gave me heartburn.


Okay, I’ve never used that line. In fact, I just made it up. But it would be hysterical. At least to the outside observer. Anyway, other possible conversation starters, as borrowed from The White Stripes:

“I’m Finding It Harder To Be A Gentleman.”

“Sister, Do You Know My Name?”

“Girl, You Have No Faith In Medicine.”

“We’re Going To Be Friends.”

“There’s No Home For You Here.”

“I Can Learn.”

“I Think I Smell A Rat.”

“Why Can’t You Be Nicer To Me?”


Now, most or all of these will likely result in me getting slapped. But one day, the conversation will go like this:

Sketch: I Want To Be The Boy To Warm Your Mother’s Heart.

Girl: Isn’t that a White Stripes song?

Sketch: Yes! Will you marry me?

Girl: It’s True That We Love One Another.

*sound of wedding bells*




I feel like my earlier declaration about having a rash would be funnier if said by Mo. Or Jack Black.




April is National Donate Life month, promoting organ donation nationwide. I’m thinking of giving up my thumbs.




As an addendum to that last sentence, I’ve made that joke a few times this week, but stopped after every single person responded with, “Thumbs aren’t organs.”

I don’t have time to explain the concept of a ‘joke’ to literalists, so I just put it aside until I had a chance to randomly insert it here. Besides, sometimes the response is funnier than the joke itself.




Speaking of donations, I am happy to donate my sperm to any hot babe on birth control. Or as I like to call them, “human sperm banks.”




Frisbee dogs are sort of like ninjas. They’re all about stealth.




Is it weird that, even though I am not feeling melancholy at all as of late, I find myself listening to Ben Folds’ “Brick” a lot recently? I’m not even a huge fan of the song. But the imagery is amazing, so I listen anyway. I guess that’s weird.




George Michael and his cousin Maeby finally kissed on the season finale of Arrested Development. Televised cousin lovin’! It gives me hope that someday I might be able to celebrate my West Virginia heritage publicly.




Do you think if I changed the prior statement to, “my Appalachian American heritage” I could qualify as a minority? I could really use the scholarships and tax breaks.




From the U.S. Census Bureau: “Women in the United States outnumber men, but they are hampered by higher poverty rates and lower earnings.” Who says minorities can’t live the American dream?




One time I was at my friend’s house and his little sister ran into the room and jumped on the couch screaming, “Pay attention to me! Pay attention to me! Pay attention to me!”

“Dude,” I said. “This is just like on Oprah. I think this is a cry for attention.”

“Nah,” he replied. “She does that all the time. Just ignore her.”




Wouldn’t it be sweet if I changed my sign off named to, ‘T. Diddy’? Is that more ghetto-fabulous than Nas-T?




Well, that’s it kids. Someday I’m sure I’ll have more random crap to share with you.




Peace and love,

Sketch E.