So this evening, I was doing the raddest of things and working at my place of employment, helping people find videogames they'll fall in love with. They will tout the artistic integrity of our favorite past-time to their friends, loved ones, and acquaintances, based on my recommendations and labor. By that, I mean, I was selling tons of copies of NCAA Football 2012. That meant that I wasn't present for the Beardcast recording this evening, which sort of bummed me out.
I get home this evening, awaiting an mp3 file in my inbox, and mentally prepared to do my post-production rituals (which may or may not include pants, peanut butter, and various lotions). Instead of jovial banter from my friends, I receive this, a poem by Nitrobeard's own Tyler Ohlew:
Sometimes life gets in the way,
And prevents us talking about games we play.
Mark got lost in the Big Apple,
While Imran fell ill to a spoiled Snapple.
Wes had a house party on his wife’s command,
And Brian parkoured off bike’s kick stand.
And me? My nose is stuffed to the brim,
And I was force to write this on a whim.
There was also this, and God knows what in the f$(*%ng world it means
I'm pretty sure that's a butt and dong combo at the bottom, with the word 'CENSORED' on it. Mario seems content with this. Related? FIND OUT NEXT TIME, ON THE BEARDCAST (sometime this weekend).
But seriously though, I think this is the internet version of walking in on your townhouse, seeing your roommates in their underwear asleep on the counter, booze on the floor, little dessert entries laying in various spots, and KY Jelly strown about the premises.