I am tired

I will be giving these photos an accompanying story in a bit…just a preview to let yall know we have you viewers in mind. I need about five naps after all of this shit.

Sorry for the lapse everybody. Here we go.
This is Cat/Griz eve. Granted this Friday was busier than the average night, but the ladies room is always near this level of pure disorder. Kyle and I have a little mime act as to what may happen to leave things in this condition…it involves throwing toilet paper in the air and yelling “woo.” It is sort of funny at two thirty in the morning.

Here are D, Griff, and I stocking the cooler after close. Two of the three recall this picture being taken. Good work Gackle.

On to some actual Cat/Griz photos. Dave gets the party started with some Champagne far too early, and things just sort of play out from there. Auto-pilot as my homey Eve would say.

Lets follow it up with a series of weird beard photos…

…and then with Waldo’s drunk ass grabbing some zzz’s

All right. Nobody really knows how exactly Dave ended up with the stamp pad from the doormen at the ticket entrance. It happened, however, resulting in a few dozen of our buddies and their buddies buddies cousins getting free passes into the Brawl of the Wild. Can you imagine the look on those guy’s faces when they realized that they botched the one simple task that was their charge?

And then Voy invented a restroom.

My photo journalism was lacking from this point on. I ended up on the field with a goal post, but for some reason the post is quite elusive in photography. I have some pics from Specs and from the field that I will toss in the gallery.

The weekend in a photo? Right here. A big pork rind & beer thumbs up.

Greetings from WalMart

This afternoon found me once again at the local WalMart killing time whilst a team of half-assed mechanics swapped out the oil in my Yukon. I have been dropping approximately 1/2 pint of power steering fluid onto various area parking lots for a few months now…keep this in mind.

Well, soon after entering the store from the auto service area, I came across this gem. Have you ever wondered how much it would cost a guy or gal to promptly indicate to his/her house guests of his amazing lack of class?

Fifty eight bucks.

Another sure shot way to indicate your udder classlessness would be to take the rug rats out to the old shopping center dressed like this…in mid-November.


So my story is really not that interesting. I did however play a few demo games on the Xbox 360, which was pleasant. Upon my return to the auto center check out area, the fella working the counter told me that he thinks I may have a slight fluid leak somewhere. Excellent sleuthing. Whoever made the decision to swap this guy out of housewares and into automotive deserves a promotion.


I for one am looking forward to Monday. This birthday stuff is a whole load of bullshit…I don’t thrive on undeserved attention. I do however always end up overdoing things during this period every single year; ’05 was no exception. I have been dog-sitting for my boss, and doing so with tremendous headaches each morning; Friday was no exception. In addition to this, my ear was a bit sore, due to the presence of Hat Shop’s diamond earring in it. At least Biddy put the thing in my left ear. Neither of us can really recall why this came about, but we all agree that it looks surprisingly decent considering.

I worked for a handful of hours on Friday before going it to tend bar. My big plan was to keep the big day under the radar for alcohol purposes, which worked quite well for a time. The last hour or so consisted of much too much Jim Beam, resulting in another of those aforementioned headaches on Saturday. The shift at the bar was going well, until a methed-up John Travolta fella showed up and started pitching about the dance floor. Upon my asking the patron to knock his intensity level down a few notches, he became less like John Travolta, and somewhat more like a more backwoods Chuck Norris. (Note: trying to drop some names for search engine reasons. Bubba Keg Bubba Keg) Well, Daryl and I get him drug out back, he attacks Daryl, we drop him, we let him go, he again attacks Daryl, we again drop him. We had to restrain him until the policia showed up, due to the cut on his forehead. Last night was the first time in 364 days that I had thrown a fist, and likely the first time in as long as Daryl had pinged a fella’s head off of a wall.

Oh yeah, as this clown was carrying on in the back seat of the cruiser regarding getting jumped by Daryl’s friends (all 160 pounds of them) he told the police that the altercation was the result of him being a better dancer than the two of us. I doubt that, sir. I have polished some serious floor in my day.

I decided to throw in the towel for the Dreamiest Slegion Employee poll. New votes have become sparse…and I was still getting my ass kicked. Final results: Katie over Hat Shop, %39 to %34, respectively. Congratulations to both of you good looking kids…I have a feeling that two of my five votes were from my mom and little sister. Enjoy the newest installment; note the fact that you creative bloggers can add your own input this time.

In other news, our favorite photo submitter, Chuck Dizzle, recently informed me that his model has been alerted of her presence in our gallery. Apparently her attitude towards said pictures was less than pleased. Shouting ensued…the police were mentioned…the pics are no longer posted. We regret any hard feelings. I personally feel that the TermiNater’s guy-boobs were more offensive.

Here we go again

Last night found me tired of people and tired in general at work. I find that tailgating will do that to a guy. After having my drunken homeboy Eric relate a pointless and long-winded story about a guy not being from Townsend, I decided to entertain myself by compiling some serious Hot or Not action. Enjoy. I was throwing around the idea of tossing Albert Charles “A.C.” Slater’s and Samuel “Screech” Powers’ photos up in place of the usual Hot or Not format…maybe next time.

On to the weekend in photos…Friday night was not all too exciting for Grif, Tony Toni Tone, and me. Not a ton of drama, which is nice for a change. The Montana Department of Fish and Game had better watch out. They just issued this dude a uniform.

Daryl was having more fun than most on Friday. He rolls into the bar with a head of steam after closing time and starts throwing out the MadTV Stewart poses. You had better start growing your goatee brother.

Saturday finds me in charge of the food/drink portion of the Morrison Design and Landscaping/bouncerblog.com tailgate. Dave found himself in Helena at the Seinfeld stand-up show. Dave’s stomach found itself brimming with wine…a reported three bottles. By the time he rolls up, this is his condition.

Note: this photo must have been taken during the forty five minute span of Kyle and Steph’s tailgate tenure. Also, that hot rod in the backdrop was running the entire time. Good work.

Pre-nap time at Spectators is always a shit show. Some drink conservatively, some drink like Shuga Shane.

Better work. Shane wasted no time in hitting the dance floor at the Sleeg upon his arrival. Now that’s what I’m talking about.


This will be a quick one…I am to meet the Zigginator for a beer on his way through town shortly. Just a thought:

Cody Janes–> I give you a 90% chance of waking up on Sunday and recalling that all you consumed on Saturday were some of these lil’ smokies. For that, my friend, you get a big thumbs up.

Hot or Not

Hey peeps. I am trying to give you all a weekly installment of my new Hot or Not section. Check it out; keep in mind that I am still not comfortable with the layout. Whatever. I know that the Grifmeister and I have built a small group of loyals, and the thought of said patrons calling up bouncerblog.com to find stale content makes me sick. I love you guys.

Also, I am somewhat surprised at the lack of activity regarding the past weekend’s antics. I feel that some of this was due to my business and Paige’s party…aka the reason for a ton of retardedness. Kyle was too inebriated to recall his Canadian cigarette box sized camera in his pocket. Dave (my boss/homie) was too jungle juice-fruit-drunk to realize that calling a guy a “fucking fagot” may result in a fat lip. In short, this guy is not too upset that he had to be tending bar before the alliterative shit hit the colloquial fan. Word to your mother Owen.


Foremost…check out the new hot or not section. It is linkable to your right. Enjoy and realize this is gen one of this bad boy; I will hammer out the format one of these days.

Now, here is the good stuff. Zig and I have collected in the past week some nice examples of the crazy things a guy or gal can get a laugh out of if he or she keeps his or her eyes open. Ziggy, who is, at present, affiliated with the Whitefish bar scene, mentioned his run in with the largest apple perhaps ever.

Gage the size of the apple in comparison with the hand basket…that is a big apple. Not a day later I run into this dandy in the McDonald’s parking lot.

Yes, those are both Ford Fiestas. I am a mathematician, but my skills are not sufficient enough to calculate the odds of two Fiestas side by side in a parking lot in 2005. I do have a suspicion that my chances of winning the Montana Cash jackpot are better than my odds of seeing that shit again though.

Next, I go grocery shopping.

Plain creepy.

Off to WalMart (aside–I am not a classy gent) Maybe I was just worked up from the grocery store…but product packaging was on the mind. Perhaps the two most blatantly obvious examples of complacency in marketing lesser quality products jumped out at me. Examine:

We have here a mullet-head table tennis player and this lady. I can only imagine how excited she was telling her husband that she was doing some modeling.