Where Everybody Knows My Name (Whether I Want Them To Or Not)
by Baby Huey

So Michele asked us where we wanted to live, if we lived in TV land. After thinking, I came up with 3 ideas.

- Sarah Chalke (Dr. Reed from Scrubs)'s pants. Oh my god, if I lived there I'd never leave the house. But it was a copout and kinda lame. Not to mention the fact that there's no way I'd get a full post out of it.

- In the world where Dethklok is king of all metal bands. However, I'm not actually *in* the band, so my life expectancy would be approximately 12 minutes. That's no good.

- The bar from Cheers. That's IT.

Let me tell you why. First things first: I don't mean I want to live in Boston and frequent Cheers. I mean, I want to live in the bar. My liver is evil and must be punished. Don't get me wrong. I don't want to live there because it's where everyone knows my name. Fuck that. If I'm in a bar, if I want to talk to you, I'll start. I really don't want to you to start talking to me out of the blue. Unless you've got some sweet tits. Anyone who shouted "Jooooooosh" as I walked into the bar would be getting a punch in the crotch. Goddammit, I know my own name, and I'm home now! Let me get somethin to eat! Let me get somethin to drink! Let me take a shit! Go in the kitchen and get me my big piece of chicken! (apologies to Chris Rock)

I would want to live at Cheers because there are some pretty cool folk that work/drink there. Let's break down what they'd be in my world:

Oh, Norm. My mentor. You fat, drunk fuck. I have so much to learn about being drunk and fat from you. Your one liners are second to none, and I'd imagine that none of your jokes were longer because you'd be out of breath.

I like a bartender who knows how to pour a beer and I could probably beat up. Seriously, Sam's a wuss. Unless he tried to bludgeon me with his fivehead. That would suck.

Ooooh, my Diane. You would so be my concubine. I would violate that innocent body in so many ways. So pure, so beautiful. I love you Diane. So much better than that fat cow Rebecca (more on her later).

Carla would be security. Sure, she's small, but that crusty old bitch is wiry. Seriously, would you fuck with a pre-menstrual Carla? I'm 275 lbs, and I wouldn't go near her if she told me to back off.

Dude. He'd be my mailman, and he'd drink in my house. How cool would that be? He'd always have my mail on time, and I could totally threaten to shank him if he ever brought me junk mail. That shit would be sorted on the quick, I tell you what.

Seriously, fuck that patchouli stink hippie.

She'd be in charge of keeping the place clean, and occasionally getting Sam's dick wet so he wouldn't be so irritating. So, basically what she did on the show. God I hate her. Maybe she can go on Jenny Craig and lose all her weight and die.

Isn't it obvious that I need some psychiatric help? However, the fact that a doctor frequented that shithole of a bar really made me skeptical towards the veracity of his medical credentials. That doesn't matter. Barroom psychiatrists are the best in the universe, MD or no. And he'd make housecalls! How cool is that?

So, there it is. My burgeoning drinking problem would be full-fledged alcoholism in a few short episodes. I'd have people to sex, people to knife, and people significantly more pathetic than I am. How could it be better?

Baby Huey once bombed a patchouli factory


This is a conversation Michele and I had today over greasy eggs and nachos, discussing our editors' picks and our moods writing it:

Michele: for some reason I was feeling angry when I wrote it
Michele: you seem to have been in the same mood I'm in
Michele: I feel...fiesty
Josh: I had 2 fingers of scotch in me
Josh: and if you ask "who's scotch" I'll fucking knife you
Michele: haaaaaaahahahaha
Michele: I thought it
Josh: I know you did


Seriously, would you fuck with a pre-menstrual Carla

I thought that said....



Yeah. Um, Rhea Perlman is cool and all, but I wouldn't fuck her with Bea Arthur's dick.


You weave words like a weaver weaves stuff.


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