Oh babies and bubbas it is a mere morning after the NBA trade deadline and the key word is dead. That is if you happen to be like me……….. a Boston Celtic fan. Last night my team parted ways with a vital piece of chemistry. That gentleman was Kendrick Perkins. A rough and tough batch of Texan that played center for the squad when they took home the banner in 2008. One of the few pieces that was kept after GM Danny Ainge traded for KG and Ray Allen ( the others were PAul Pierce and Rajon Rando). Traded with Nate Robinson to the Thunder for Jeff Green and Kristic (I have no intrest in trying to write Kristic’s first name. Look it up yourselves if you don’t know it. I can’t do everything around here!!!!!!

Sorry the trade has made me cranky. I’ll try and keep it together for the rest of this piece) For years Ainge was building a team of young assets and then he traded them away (Delonte West, Al Jefferson, Gerald Green) for the formation of the big three. Well Rondo and Perk were the one’s he kept. And Celtic fans prayed that our former 2 guard turned front office leader kept the right big man and point guard. He did. 2008 says it all. WORLD CHAMPS!!!!! Paul was the cpt. KG was the feild general, Ray was the dagger, Rondo was the spark and Perk was the anchor.

The protector, the one who handled the dirty work which is the paint in the NBA. he wasn’t the best player but we knew that with him anything was possible. And without him in game 7 of the 2010 Finals winning was impossible. Paul Gasol grabbed so many bricks from the rim you’d think he was gonna build a house. If Perk was there the story could have ended another way. He would of bullied that LLama looking Spainard like Byron Willie bullied me around in 7th grade ( he was a mean sod). Perk was a lovable chunk of a brute. And now “he’s gone and there is nothing we can do about it.” That is a quote from my favorite film of all time “Goodfellas.” It was right after Tommy (Joe Pesci) got whacked.

The turning point in the movie. The fun and games was over. Paranoia was about to kick in. Same with the Celts. PAranoia has kicked in. And not the Kind Henry (Ray Liotta) felt at the end of the film. This is no coke haze. The paronoia belongs to Danny Ainge. And it’s the same paronoia that Jimmy Conway (Bobby De Niro) had at the end of the film. Conway had just pulled off the impossible ( the luftansa heist) and now he was eliminating pieces of the puzzle. Whacking all the guys that helped him pull off the heist. Well bucko’s Ainge is eliminating pieces of the puzzle that helped him do the impossible ( win the 2008 crown). He’s not scared of getting caught. he’s petrified of not winning again. So scared that Poor perk got clipped like Maurey did. From behind. No clue it was happening. Probably on his way to buy his girl a danish. And now the movie continues in a haze of paranoia. The team just like the film I’m comparing it to is on a downward spiral.

The charming chemistry is gone. The good times are done. No more front row at the Copa or championships. Without the lovable lummox the Celts need to rely on both O’neals being healthy in the playoffs. That’s like relying on your stripper girlfriend to stay faithful. It might happen and if it does you better appreciatte the miracle bubbas!!!! And now this NBA season resembles the 1992 oscars for best picture. The Celts represent “GOOdfellas” outstanding but panicked at the end. The Heat represent “The Godfather part 3″ good in theory but very flawed. And in the end knowone beats “Dances with Wolves” ( The Spurs). Even though we were all bored watching them. And so it goes…………………………..

Ahhh, the animals are out tonight. A basehead that looks like Quest Love with a beard that hasn’t touched soap since Bush was in his first term is searching for rocks on third avenue. His eyes are menacing like Pennywise’s in “IT.”A mugging would be a good score for him but he can’t. The law is around. He walks by four cops in a huddle on fifth who aren’t protecting. They are hunting. For each other. Two males. Two females. A thousand hormones. The males want to bang the females so they can have something to brag about to the “boys.” The females want to bang the males so they can feel like they are apart of the “boys.”
At the corner of sixth several cabs desperately slow down and beg me to jump in. When I say no they call me a tease and tell me where to stick it. Where are they when I am waving and need them? On seventh walks a transvestite with face full of make up that would make Tammy Fae Baker jealous. There’s enough ectasy in her/him that she/he doesn’t remeber that there is a penis between those two stumbling legs. A few steps later the bridge and tunnel posse are dressed like classy losers in a Lady Gaga look-a-like contest. They are looking for food and someone to yell at after leaving a hot spot in the meatpacking district. Soon these two Cinderellas will realize it’s past midnight and that there pumpkin chariot will only take them to work somewhere down the shore. Thugs are all over. They are only pea cocking tonight. It’s too nice out to actually work.

The weather is fantastic. Depending on who you ask it’s a warm winter or a cool spring. And depending on who you ask it’s a late Sunday evening or a way too early Monday morn. It doesn’t matter. It’s perfect. No matter who you ask it’s 14th street in Manhattan. And babies walking it right now sure beats a kick in the ass.

Damnit bubbas life used to be easy. You do something fun like play a sport. You get real good at it. You make some bosh (money) and marry a model. You know like a MGMT song. But alas Mr. Dylan was right times are changing. I was in a hotel after a gig watching tennis ( that’s right I’m classy). The match was between the beast Roger Federer and this Russian Davydanko. It was a shocker bucko. Not the match itself. Federer beat him like a jr high boy beats his meat. The real action was in the stands. Davydanko had a smoking fox of a girlfriend. This broad was the oppositte of Dante’s Inferno. 12 levels of heaven babies woooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now that should be expected, tennis player get hot chicks. But here’s the thriller babies. Federer’s wife was criminally mediocre. Average Jane. Can you believe that? In this day and age an average looking broad from damned Sweden? But more importantly, Federer is probably the greatest tennis player ever. And the 8th ranked player has a fox compared to his chipmunk. Up is down babies and down is sideways.
Here’s the thing. Old school wisdom would have that Federer would have a broad so hot that the Goddess Aphrodite would hang her head in shame around her. But no. He’s above the superficial. Most of us think we wouldn’t. I’ve been telling anyone who’ll listen that in my forties I plan on banging 18-yr old supermodels on a bed of cash while eating lobster for breakfast. That seems to be the dream. But it’s not.

She's not 18 and that's not American money, but you get the picture!

Andre and Brooke

Andre and Steffi

OK. I wrote a blog about vegetables. I liked it. But I know people want scandal from me. So I promised at the end of that piece I would go out drinking and try and hook up. Well damn, kid I is a man of my word. Snippity snappitity!! 

Sunday night Brooklyn. It’s colder than a penguin’s vagina. It takes me 4 trains and over 2 hours to get to this gig. The crowd is colder than the weather outside. They are a swiss cheese crowd. Spread out and not filling. Hard to get anything going. After a couple minutes comics would look at the crowd and freak out. I closed the show. I felt like a kamikaze pilot waiting to crash my plane and die. There was a guy in the front with an Asian girlfriend who didn’t say a damn thing. He was a statue. More stoic than Brutus in “Julius Caesar.” My set starts good. Energy up. F U attitude in full effect.

Next thing you know a girl from the crowd recognizes another girl in the crowd in the middle of a rant. I repeat bubbas…….MIDDLE OF THE RANT!!! They were at the gig the whole time. They recognize each other in a lightly populated room two hours into the show. Momentum was lost. I dream of a piano falling on my head “Looney Tunes” style. Gig ends. All the comics want to drink cyannide. I drink wine. Decide to take ride from friend.

Before I walk out this girl I’ve messed with a couple times gives me a vibe. I contemplate staying and letting out my frustrations with a massive hookup. I leave instead. She is nuttier than Chinese chicken salad. I didn’t need her nutso talk to make me feel worse. On the way to my friend’s car I realize I need something to write about.

Glutton that I am I go back. She’s already talking to another kid. He looks like he works in the music department at K MArt. I sit by myself now committed to drinking like the scourge I have become. The girl who killed momentum shakes my hand and tells me how great I was. Nobody likes a liar bubbas. Her friend akwardly starts a conversation with me. She’s a beautiful blonde with a big chest and Buddy Holly glasses. She tells me she is an English major. Game on player. Or so I thought babies. The conversation starts weak. We are like two fighters trying to figure the other one out in the early rounds of a boxing match. Jab, step back. JAb, guard up. Jab, Hold. I switch to vodka soda, hoping it will make me feel like Don Johnson in the 80′s. I still feel this is going nowhere. I want to hang myself. Bombed onstage.

Now I feel I am bombing with my blonde salvation. Some how I feel like I had this coming. I start embracing the lack of connection with her. Every missed one liner, and every time she looks away from me, I start feeling an eerie calm. Bombing builds character. Onstage and in real life. Failure is what makes us who we is babies. Falling off the bike leads to being able to riding the bastard like Evol Kneiviel. I text my roomate this message. “I am totally bombing with this girl. And I’m ok with it.” I take a leek. Come back and………… To Be Continued

Written by Maddog Mattern

Look, I’ve changed my life. I eat healthy now. I’m no hippie but eating well makes me feel better. Which also makes me perform better on stage. It also has helped me score more chicas, hollllllllerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!! That’s all that matters babies. I owe it all to vegetables. <!–more–>That’s right. Them mostly green bastards have kept me trim and in shape for the girlies. They also are a great conversation piece. Most girls love veggies and will talk your ear off about which one’s they like. Let’s get you prepared for that talk with my rankings of the vegetables. ( Sorry but I can’t write about getting groped in taxi cabs every week bubbas. Maybe next time).

1) Asparagus: These dudes took me awhile to get on board with, but babies they got more character than a method actor. When I throw down some asparagus not only do I feel fit as a fiddle. I feel as fit as Charlie Daniels fiddle ( I don’t know if you know this but the devil did go down to Georgia and Charlie’s fiddle was there to report on it. GET SOME!!!) And by the way, I don’t think it makes your pee smell funny. Enough with this hack nonsense!!!! How do you notice? Do people put there shnazzin the toliet after a leak and then take notes? Pee doesn’t smell good. PERIOD!!! It’s leaving your body for a reason. And that reason: it is waste now!!!! It doesn’t matter if it is from Asparagus or from fresh orange juice squeezed by angels. So get over it dude.

2) Beets: By the time you’re done eating them it looks like you were in the shower scene in “Carrie.” Gotta love any food that leaves your plate looking like a crime scene. I like to eat them with a rare steak then leave the plate in the kitchen and hear the screams of my roomates as they think they have walked into an episode of “Dexter.”

3) Cauliflower. Underated. Has been losing a lifetime battle to fellow afro’ed veggie broccolli. Well that’s horsepiss!!!! Every restaurant in America has been shoveling broccolli down our throats as it’s seasonal vegetable for years. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!! Now, I got nothing against the hulk of veggies. But babies, not only does cauliflower taste good, it looks like something a polar bear would take a nap under ( that is if the polar bear was two inches tall. Maybe a Gummi Polar Bear). And it tastes so gangsta raw.

4) Green Squash: Bad name. Sounds like an indoor lacrosse team name. “We are the Santa Clara Green Squash yeahhhh!!!” But, does it taste good? Y’ damn right it does. Plus it makes you poop less than yellow squash. ( I’m just talking here. Don’t shoot the messenger)
5) Carrots: When you bite down on them it sounds like the hit LT made on Joe Theisman. Plus they make your eyesight better. I ate a whole bag of baby carrots on New Years day between gigs. While on stage the second show I swear I could see through a girl’s top. TOUCHDOWN!!!!

6) Green bean caserole: Alters my life every Christmas. My aunt makes this baller dish. It’s full of cheese and some crunchy stuff. It looks like “Swamp Thing.” but tastes like eternal sunshine ( tha’ts right I’m running out of things to say, but I’m trying damn it!!! Stop judgeing me. I’m just as God MADE ME!!!!)

7) Lettuce: Does it’s job.

8)Corn: When it’s sweet I’m in. On the cob, it is a bit of work. If it’s creamed, I know my belly will have more bubbles than a spa.

9)Celery:Tastes all right. But It looks like it’s strung out on H. If it looked better I feel it would be more popular.

10)Brussel Sprouts: Can kiss my ass!!!!!! I will ban them if I ever get in office. That office might only be commissioner of a little League. Well, I promise you that my little baseballers won’t be eating these nasty buggers. UGHHHHHH!!!!! Pops forced me to eat 10 in one seating once. It’s had more of a negative effect on me then the time I watched a snuff film. NO GOOD,BUBBAS. NO GOOD. The horror, the horror.

This was fun. I’m sure I lost most of you in the first paragragh. For those who stayed untill then end. Nice. Don’t worry I’m going to drink tonight so I can get in some scandal. Hopefully I say something unappropiate to a girl and then she smacks me. Luckily, it won’t hurt because I am strong as an ox from these gott damn veggies I eat. Now that will be a blog!! Live the dream babies. Life is just a fantasy, can you live this fantasy life? You damn right I can. WOOOOOOO!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is the buzz.

Look, I shave every two days. I know you were losing sleep over that issue but now you can rest. WOOOOO!!!! Friday and Saturday I shave both days. Why? Those are usually the biggest gigs of the week, and after years of looking like a homeless cop I want to look cooler than a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce. Also I am in my 30′s baby. My window for getting girls in the WB demographic (18-24) is closing like a GM factory. I have to look smooth bubbas mcgubbas. I thought it was on Saturday. Shaved clean as a whistle. Rocking a vintage Motely Crue “Too FAst For Love” shirt. Designer jeans. Fresh two week old haircut ( that’s when they really kick ass). Fedora on head that made me look like De Niro in “Meanstreets.” I was ready to go out and catch it …….or so I thought. Under my lip I found two intruders to the hunt for skirt. That’s right COLD SORES. Anti-wooooooo!!!! Bubbas anti-woooooo!!!!! No bueno, carnal.

I think of cold sores as karma’s scarlett letter for being a tramp. You might be able to rock the stage. But those little fellas under the lip will keep you from scoring like they were the ’85′ Bears defense. Your charm might say to the girl “Let’s go !!!” But the sores scream “Hell no!!!!”

The Sneaky Little Culprites

Saturday I enjoyed my gigs more than usual. Because I couldn’t worry about man-whoring. I worried about the craft. YES!! That’s what I needed to remember. And all it took to remember was a couple of nasty herps on the lip. That’s all it took to balance me out brutha. I wasn’t supposse to hook up that night. But I was supossed to have a fun night entertaining snow scared people in New York. I must accept that. And I do bubbas. I’ll go beyond that. I accept it and embrace it. That was a dope night and I’m proud of it. They’ll be skirt some other night. And if there isn’t? Well it was a hellava ride. That’s the buzz!!!!!!! That’s the gott damn life babies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOWOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I have to go put make up on so I can try and catch some friendly fire in Brooklyn tonight. Snippitty snappity!!…!!