Pint Pub (1547 N Milwaukee Ave., Bucktown)

So, bros, I needed some new kicks because this winter has left my gear all tore up. So I heard you could get some good deals….in Wicker Park.

Now, as you know, I usually don’t go farther south then Belmont for anything, but it’s a down economy, bros. Condos don’t pay for themselves. The hard part was gonna be walking around all those hipsters. You know the type, dudes with sweater vests and arts degrees. At least the vests keep you warm. (Up top, bros.) I got a communication degree, but at least I can dress myself and shave. Guess what, dudes. You can’t get a decent car or Cubs season tickets working at the record store.

So anyway, I find a decent deal on a couple pairs of shoes (just wish my man would throw some money into the joint. Gross, bruh. I gotta take my shoes off to be in here. Clean it up!)

So I get done, and I’m thinking beer. But where do I go where I don’t have to listen to emo or pick which organic food I want. So I find a safe spot: Pint, a bar that is home away from home.

Pint is an Irish style sports bar on Milwaukee just west of Honore. I walk in and the first thing I see is the hot cocktailer. She says hi as she’s picking up menus someone dropped on the floor, and I’m in love, not only for the view but her accent! She’s British! Nice first impression.

I grab a seat at the bar, and the tender is this nice girl. She’s cute, but not hot like a model, so you know she got the job cuz she’s knows what she’s doing. I look to see what’s on tap, and this place loves beer! They got 15 beers on tap, including Bud Light, Old Style and PBR. That makes me feel like I’m at the ballpark. It’s a good idea to have those, too, because cheap beer means more money for Jaeger Bombs. They got other stuff, too, like Bell’s, Blue Moon, Stella, and Newcastle, and Point, for the Packer fans. Whatever.

They got a cool menu, too, everything from quesadilla to grilled cheese. They got salads (for the chicks) and decent burgers. I went on a Saturday, and the special was $5 Guinness and $3 shot of Beam. Not bad. I don’t usually dig on dark beers. I prefer chewing my lunch. They got a website, www.pintpub.com, bro.

So I hang out, checking out basketball on their big screen. Each table had its own TV, which I thought was a plus. The place has got tables on the main floor, and then a second floor that looks over the place. Great area to hook up. Right, bros? I also dig the bar itself. It has these huge mirrors that are inside these brick arches. Classy. And against the mirrors, they’ve got every kind of booze you could think of.

And the best part: NO Hipsters! I guess tickets for Death Cab or whatever went on sale that day or something. You can’t tear them away from their Macs. Seriously, bros. The crowd was a nice mix of decent looking chicks, and dudes with actual jobs. I also didn’t spend a lot of money. She got me a beer on the house. I didn’t even have to tell her who I was!

So, overall, decent joint. Check it out sometime, if you’re in the neighborhood, if your lady wants to, I don’t know, look at old dresses and jewelry and cowboy boots and junk.

A

-Josh Vaughn

New Years Eve Parties (Josh Vaughn)

Whaddup, Bros!? That’s right! Josh Vaughn is Back!

It’s been a busy fall and winter, ya’ll. Beer pong tournaments, fantasy football, Bears, Hawks, and a promotion at work. You are now in the presence of the assistant VP of development of Branch Network Communication. Executive bathroom keys, yo.

So Eric and Andy have been missing me. (I knew they rolled like that.) So I’m back to give you the lowdown on what I have become an expert on: New Year’s Eve. NYE is one of the best times to party, hook up, get drunk, crash in the hotel, or somehow get home (wherever that is that night), and then brunch it up on Bowl Game New Year’s Day.

As a member of the scene, I can tell you that NYE in Chicago is the shit! And it’s EVEN better this year because it lands on a Friday, which means you’ve got an extra day to recover.

Things get crazy in this town. It’s like Halloween without the slutty costumes. Everyone knows the deal, and shit gets real. Everybody is out til sunrise, in the streets, the clubs, the trains, the party wagons, and the stretch Hummers. They are out in Viagra Triangle, Wrigleyville, River North, and Downtown. In the hotel lobby, or up in the room.

So let me give ten things to remember when you plan out the best way to hang on NYE. Keep these in mind, because they come from experience, bruh. You gotta be smart, bros. It’s like in my favorite movie, “Boiler Room,” you know, with Vin Diesel, and Affleck. Plan well, and you can get away with a lot.

1. Spend AT LEAST 10 hours looking for an outfit this week You have one opportunity to make a statement to all the tail out there: I am starting this year with you. Find something that fits you well, preferably a darker color in order to keep the spills from passing Jaeger Bombs from showing up. Money is no object on this. It’s an investment in your sex life.
2. Drink water every day I can’t tell you enough how much this has affected my staying power. Once you’re in the club, the club takes over, so have your body prepared. It’s also not a bad idea to hit the gym a little harder this week. You feel better about hitting up the open bar more often than usual.
3. Day of: Pregame like a mother#%&* It will save you time and money, when you have a few shots before you leave the house, like when you’re getting dressed. If you’re going to dinner, you won’t be gulping down wine or whatever. And around 1, when you’re hitting that ATM, it will be for $100 instead of $200
4. Have a decent dinner I’m not saying steak and lobster, but something substantial. Something that will keep you til around 3am. You know you’re going to the Golden Apple to rally a little bit, but you want to start up strong. You’re gonna dance, high five, and get out of cabs a lot, so be prepared. Speaking of…
5. Be prepared, Last Boy Scout Bro’s, you know what I mean. Condoms, gum, lighter, cigs, cash for a cab, charged cell, toothpicks, and whatever specialty items I can’t mention here. (Yeah, boyyeee.)
6. Pick a destination. Where do you wanna be for midnight? Around your bros, or a bunch of chicks? In the club or at someone’s condo? You don’t wanna end up in a line outside English, freezing. So plan ahead.
7. Have an escape plan. You also don’t want to get trapped there, either. Head to another club, someone’s crib, whatever. You got places to be, bruh.
8. Be cool to the hotdog guy…..nuff said.
9. Help your neighbor The girl you help find her shoes is the girl you get to show that one thing you do. Or the guy that has a fight with his lady, gets to be relived of his duty when you save her.
10. Vitamins and Aspirin Take 2 of each, and call it a night.

Have a good one, bros, and I’ll be at RiNo, Level, and Mcfaddens. Cheers!

-Josh Vaughn

"The Year Without a Santa Claus" or What is Your Problem THIS time, Fat Ass?!

Happy Holidays Gentle Reader –

I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas (Love to my Jew Friends!) and that Santa brought you all sorts of wonderful and magical things. But I doubt it. Because if there is one thing Santa loves more than delivering presents, it’s finding some random ass thing that will PREVENT him from delivering presents.

In this Installment of Santa Claus: Douchebag we turn our focus to The Year Without a Santa Claus. Original Air Date –December 10^th 1974.

Santa starts complaining about some aches and pains and says he has a “cold.” So they decide to call in a Doctor. Now this doctor is an elf. So unless Santa is running some sort Diplomas for Cash Third-World Med School, I have serious doubts about his qualifications.

In the entirety of ALL the North Pole – one Elf – PRECISELY ONE - says that no one cares about Xmas anymore. And even though every other living creature within sight is busily working away on toys - Dr. House says that no one believes Christmas matters any more. Santa IMMEDIATELY says – you know, you are right, and decides that it’s time he takes a holiday.

It should go without saying that the man works precisely ONE DAY A YEAR. I have never ever seen Santa actually build a toy. And yes you can see that maybe he is exhausted from sitting around all day WATCHING YOU TAKE A SHOWER, but if that is the case then HE KNOWS the majority of the world is absolutely EXCITED about Christmas. If that doesn’t sound like someone who is trying to get out of a job, I don’t know what does.

Since it seems Santa only needs the amount of evidence provided to a Tea Bagger, he crawls immediately into bed and calls off Christmas. Somehow the press catches wind of it (Santa calls them directly) and they go nuts.

The Headlines read: “Santa Says – Too Tired!” That’s a good message for the kiddies. Clean your room. Can’t. Too tired. If you don’t clean your room, Santa won’t bring you any presents. He’s not bringing them anyway, you know why? TOO TIRED.

And “Not Coming”! Says Claus. Which sounds more like a prostate problem.

The first song is The Year Without a Santa Claus and in the lyrics they say “The children they cried, they thought Santa had died!” So you know Fox News got their hands in there somewhere.

Mrs. Claus (no longer the Hot Ginger she was, in fact she looks a lot more like Tanta Kringle than anyone else. Hmmmm.)

Mrs. Claus Pre Wedding:

Tanta Kringle



Mrs. Claus Today

Now – at best, Santa has a mother fixation and forces his wife to dress up like his adopted mother. At worst, he murdered his Hot Ginger Wife and is now shacked up in a godless semi-incestuous relationship with his adopted mother. At the very very worst – he is banging Barbara Bush.

Gross.

But anyway – “Mrs. Claus” at first lights on the idea that all she needs to do is dress up like Santa and deliver the presents herself. In fact she says ANYONE could be Santa Claus. She engages in some cosplay and contemplates taking over the job.

Mrs. Claus contemplates smothering Santa and taking over the whole works.

She is interrupted in her reverie by Jingle and Jangle, the two most special needs elves in the North Pole. It makes sense seeing as how they only started out with only one “family” of elves and now there are hundreds of them running around. That inbreeding is a bitch.

The two believe her to actually be Santa until she turns around and they realize it is her. At which point she promptly folds like a cheap suit and gives up her plan to murder Santa. She decides she needs to get rid of the witnesses and send Jingle and Jangle on a fool’s errand to find people who still believe in Santa and to a lesser extent, Christmas. All they have to do is find proof that ONE PERSON cares.

Santa eventually wakes up and ‘Mrs. Claus’ (BTW he calls her Ma, even though they have no children. Just saying) and she immediately lays in with the passive aggressive behavior, letting it “slip” what Jingle and Jangle are up to, even though they just left five minutes ago.

Santa’s response? “You sent those retards out to die? On a baby reindeer?”

It seems as if there are two beings known as the Miser Brothers. Like, well known. Like, REALLY well known. And Mrs. Claus sent Jingle and Jangle out there without warning them because it slipped her mind. Now if I knew for a fact that two murderous brothers lived on the end of my street and I happened to send some special needs kids to the convenience store to get me some smokes, I would have to be somewhat culpable in whatever grisly fate they fell to. I mean, fool me once…

This motivates Santa to put on his everyday traveling ware (which highly resembles that of your upscale pimp) hops on another reindeer, Dasher, and goes off in search of Jingle and Jangle who have all of a ten minute head start. So now “Mrs. Claus” has sent Santa, two elves and two reindeer off to die.

There is the Snow Miser who controls the Northern Part of the world keeping everything cold and the Heat Miser who keeps the Southern Part warm and free of snow.

Couple things. I was unaware that the world lacked a Southern Hemisphere and was just hanging in space like an overturned grapefruit thrown to the floor in a drunken rage. And the Claus’s talk about Heat Miser like he is a right bastard for keeping the snow out of the south. Tell that to the retirees in Florida.

Jingle and Jangle manage to get by them and where do they choose to go? Southtown USA. They are immediately accosted by the local constabulary who;

a.) Has apparently never seen a deer before and

b.) cites them for wearing funny looking clothes on a Sunday.

Ah the South; the last bastion for Reasonable Thought in America.

Of course – Jingle and Jangle fit right in since after getting a ticket for going the wrong way on a one way street and wearing funny clothes, they decide that Southtown must hate Reindeers. You know. The same way terrorists hate our freedom. They immediately decide to disguise Vixen as a dog. By putting their sock on her antlers. She is immediately attacked by an old lady’s cat.

Santa – who is now only about two minutes behind them runs into the cop who gave them the ticket and asks after them. The cop tells Santa that they broke the law, they got a ticket and they have to face the Judge. Santa’s response is typical of his entire career of flagrantly disobeying the law, “well not much Christmas spirit there.”

Sure I cut off that dude’s head and I’m keeping it in my freezer. But it’s Christmas. WHERE IS YOUR CHRISTMAS SPIRIT?!?!

Jingle, Jangle and Vixen now treed by the cat, contemplate giving up, which seems to be the mainstay of the Clause Organization. Too hard? Fucking quit. They eventually figure out maybe accosting random ADULTS may not be the best course so maybe they should talk to some CHILDREN. You know. The ones that SANTA ACTUALLY DELIVERS THE TOYS TO.

Oh by the way, Vixen is totally dying from the heat. Now if reindeers are susceptible to DEATH by WARMTH after only several hours of exposure, I think there is a flaw in the system.

So Jingle and Jangle decide to talk to a group of MIDDLE SCHOOL CHILDREN THAT ARE TALLER THAN THEM and ask how they feel about Santa.

Their response – Santa is not coming. All the papers say so. Besides believing in him is for little children.

Ok. Back the fuck up. That kind of logic is the shit you tell robots to make their head explode on Star Trek.

Santa – whom all the papers SAY IS REAL is not coming this year. We believe he is not coming because the papers say so. But believing in him is for kids.

All children between twelve and eighteen are assholes.

At this point, a Ginger (evil) boy lets Vixen get taken by the dog catcher before he says anything. This boy, Ignatius Thistlewhite, bears more than a passing resemblance to Santa.

Ignatius

Young Santa

So it’s no surprise when he comes home and Santa is waiting outside his house. I get the feeling Santa has been here plenty of times before. I would be surprised if Mrs. Thistlewhite received a check every month from KK Inc. for hush money.

Santa approaches the boy, under a fake name, the cleverly chosen “Klaus” and enlists his help. But not before Mrs. Thistlewhite invites Santa in to “give him something for that cold.”

By the way, Mr. Thistlewhite has jet black hair and looks nothing like his son.

Upon seeing that Mr. Thistlewhite is home, Santa starts stammering and sweating like a whore in church.

Ignatius once again says he doesn’t believe in Santa and asks his father if he does. Mr. Thistlewhite holds Santa in his icy stare and says, “Why yes I believe I do.”

Ignatius then turns to Santa and asks the same question. To which Santa takes a moment to answer in the affirmative and sing a song about himself. What a dick. It’s like he wanted to be the first rap star who only can sing about how badass he is. The main difference is that THERE ARE ALREADY 8,000 SONGS ABOUT HIM ALREADY. And he still has to sing about himself. NOT CHRISTMAS. Himself. Jag Bag.

Then in response Mr. Thistlewhite takes his own verse.

I believe in Santa Claus
But there was a time
I thought I had grown too old
For such a childish rhyme
He became a dream to me
Till one Christmas night
Someone stood beside my bed
With a beard of white
"So you're too old for Santa Claus"?
He said with a smile
Then you're too old for all the things
That make a life worth while
For what is happiness but dreams
and do they all come true
Look at me and tell me, son
What is real to you?

Obviously spoken as Santa had Mrs. Thistlewhite bent over the bed, impregnating her with his bastard spawn. Shaking with rage, Mr. Thistlewhite finishes the song with a newly invigorated Santa.

Ignatius finally spills about Vixen and the elves. And Santa – no longer giving a fuck – hops on Dasher and takes off into the sky in broad daylight. After several minutes of deliberating, Ignatius finally pieces together the Klaus/Claus riddle and figures out that it was actually Santa. Yep. Ignatius sure sounds like a Claus to me.

So Mr. Thistlewhite sends his son – a douchey teenager - to talk to the Mayor about letting Vixen go rather than go himself – an actual tax paying adult who can obviously pay the fine. He obviously hates the boy as much as he does Santa and will take every opportunity to set him up to fail.

Jingle and Jangle had the same stupid idea and are having the appropriate amount of luck when the Mayor throws out his terms. Snow in Southtown. Or the Reindeer dies.

He also says that if they can accomplish this, they will also give Santa an official National Holiday this year. You know. The guy who works ONE DAY A YEAR.

Then the Mayor – WHO DIDN’T BELIEVE THEY WERE ELVES IN THE FIRST PLACE – sings a song about how it is going to snow in Dixie. So if he believes that this is a certainty, then he must believe they are REALLY ELVES – so why doesn’t he let the DYING BABY REINDEER GO. Ah, The South.

At this point – Santa has bailed Vixen out of the pound and is taking her back to the North Pole. Done. That simple.

Why he didn’t just break her out of jail like he normally does is one of the continuity errors that drive me nuts. Like R2-D2. In the prequels – he can fly. I can think of HUNDREDS OF TIMES that would have come in useful in the original trilogy. Listen fuckers – when you are telling a story you got to stick to the rules. Otherwise you are just pissing all over your material. Fuck you too George Lucas.

Of course Santa doesn’t bother to tell Jingle and Jangle about this latest development. So they are still locked into their Faustian bargain with the Mayor of Southtown. So they call “Mrs. Claus” and she, the elves and Ignatius go to visit the murderous bastard Snow Miser.

Who actually turns out to like Santa quite a bit. Read into that what you will. They ask him to snow in Southtown and he says no can do because Southtown is in Heat Miser’s territory. Which they knew. And now they are just wasting time. Once again – IT’S THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS when Santa pulled this shit.

So it’s off to the Heat Miser who looks like Jack Weston and naturally hates Santa and his natural association with winter. He agrees to allow it to snow in Southtown if they let it be warm in the North Pole. Which leads to global warming and melting of the ice caps. And thousands and thousands of deaths.

At this point it wouldn’t surprise me if Santa held stock in BP as well.

So now we have the need for North and South to come to a reasonable and meaningful compromise which of course they are completely unable to do.

‘Mrs. Claus’ decides to drag Mother Nature into it. It’s sort of like that Simpsons where they have to keep bringing in new predators to catch the old ones. How will we get rid of the snakes? That’s what the Gorillas are for. She lays the smack down HURLING LIGHTNING BOLTS and forces them both to compromise.

Santa meanwhile has brought Vixen back to the North Pole and even though he has been gallivanting all over the world, he decides HE STILL CAN’T DO HIS FUCKING JOB.

The snow falls in Southtown and Santa is given a DAY OFF, which he decides to USE ON THE ONE DAY HE WORKS ALL YEAR. So the children of the world decide to make their own gifts and SEND THEM TO SANTA.

REALLY!?!?

So apparently Santa felt the need to push is idolatry into actual TRIBUTE AND SACRIFICE.

Santa then finds a letter saying “I’ll have a blue Christmas without you.” Precisely one letter. That has no connection to any of the other bargains, deals and sacrifices made to please his whiny selfish ass.

Santa’s ego finally stroked to his satisfaction – he starts yelling at all the inbred elves to start working again. He sheds his veil of secrecy in a move akin to whipping his cock out and banging it on the dining room table – and lands in the middle of Southtown. What an ass.

Mr. Thistlewhite takes his own life.

A+ for teaching children if you whine loud enough, you too can be a self indulgent ass and be rewarded for it.

TRY NOT TO BELIEVE IN ME NOW, FUCK NOZZLES!!! SEE YOU NEXT YEAR! UNLESS IT GETS FOGGY OR SOME SHIT LIKE THAT!!!

-Chris Hainsworth

Santa Claus: Douchebag (Guest Reviewer Chris Hainsworth)

Happy Holidays Gentle Readers.

As December crushes us with sub-zero temperatures and the media blitzes us with constant reminders of the inadequacies of our lives, it’s time we reflect on what the season is really about.

Santa. And what a terrible example he sets for all of us by being a giant Douchebag.

As evidence, I present his various portrayals throughout the Rankin-Bass oeuvre.

Maybe it’s not all his fault. Let’s take a look back at his Origin Story –

Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town – Original Air Date 12/14/70. That’s 40 years ago bitches.

The Beginning –

First of all – Santa was an orphan that appeared mysteriously out of nowhere. And worse – a Ginger. All Ginger Males are evil. Fact. Just as all Ginger Females are Hot. The only thing identifying him – A TAG – with the word Claus on it.

Abandoned on the steps of the Sombertown’s Ruler, Burgermeister Meisterburger, much as Damien was foisted of on American Diplomat Gregory Peck – Burgermeister Meisterburger rejects Satan’s Plan (Satan – Santa, so obvious) and sends the deadly Ginger off to the Orphan Asylum.

En Route – the sled is “magically” (read Satanically) blown away and found by the animals of the forest. His pagan minions deliver him to a “family” of elves. No one bothers to explain the nature of this family or how they are related to each other. There are five male elves that all look to be about 1,000 years old and one female elf that goes by the name Tanta Kringle that is twice their size who lives with them.

This bizarre sex cult seems to have a toy fetish as all they do all day is make toys and then throw them into a pile out back. It seems once they were Toy Makers to the King and seem incapable of letting it go. They could just give the toys away but they seem physically incapable of delivering the toys after all the sex and there is a Winter Warlock between them and they place where they were presumably once employed. Oh and TOYS ARE FUCKING ILLEGAL IN SOMBERTOWN.

So this sexual fetishist contraband manufacturing cult names him Kris and raises him to be one of them; including giving him one of their sex slave uniforms and roping him into their contraband manufacturing.

Upon coming of age, “Kris” announces “Time to take the toys to Sombertown.” Coincidentally, this is a euphemism for sex my wife does not appreciate.

As he trespasses across the land of the Winter Warlock he comes across a penguin that is in entirely the wrong hemisphere. He names his new familiar ‘Topper’ and befriends it as people do with creatures who are obviously too stupid to live. The Warlock shows up and through a clever plot of RUNNING AWAY, “Kris” and Topper escape and finally make it to Sombertown.

Upon arriving he runs into a couple of kids and has the following exchange –

SC – What you doing?

Kids – Laundry

SC – That’s fucking stupid. Why aren’t you playing?

Kids – Nothing to play with.

SC – Listen up, you whiny little cunts. I don’t want to hear anymore of your fucking bitching. I was raised by a fetishist sex cult – so shut the fuck up or I won’t give you any of this high grade stash I’m transporting illegally.

Or something to that effect. As he starts handing out his contraband (first one is for free) the local (hot Ginger female) school teacher Jessica, steps in to try and SAVE THE CHILDREN FROM FUCKING JAIL only to be felled by Kris as he gives her a “China Doll,” (read Heroin), and seduces her over to his illegal ways.

So since all the children know toys are illegal, they do the only sensible thing and start playing with them IMMEDIATELY in the FUCKING STREET.

Naturally Johnny Law shows up for the smack down and Kris does the only honorable thing to date by taking the heat for it. But first he tries to get Meisterburger hooked as well by giving him a Yo-Yo but fails and is run out of town.

As he is going back to the sex cult, along the exact same route he took to Sombertown, the one where he was originally hassled by the Winter Warlock, and surprise surprise – he gets captured by – wait for it – the Winter Warlock.

Ah – but this time, much like with the hot Ginger female school teacher, Kris pushes a toy Choo-Choo on Winter Warlock (that’s his name it turns out, not a title) and Warlock is immediately powerless and addicted.

In fact, Warlock or “Winter” as he wished to now be called – shows Kris how to do some Magic by using his Crystal (i.e. Meth) Snowball to spy on people. Kris sees that Jessica is looking for him and she tells him the stupid children of Sombertown got all of their cleverly concealed (i.e. NOT AT ALL) contraband confiscated and destroyed so of course the only option is to bring more toys.

So the Kringles relocate their production facility and stash house on to the now completely weakened Winter’s land to ease the delivery route. And Kris has his newly minted HO (HO HO) Jessica tell all the children that if they want a special “present,” they should leave their doors open that night, so that he can GIVE it to them.

Once again – the MENSA candidates that make up the township begin the day by PLAYING WITH THEM ON THE FUCKING STREET. And shock – they are all confiscated and burned again.

So now Burgermeister is not fucking around. ANYONE FOUND WITH A TOY ANYWHERE IN THEIR HOME WILL BE IMPRISONED. Kris gets around this by turning the citizenry’s children into mules and having them hide the toys in their stockings. So they can then take them out into THE FUCKING STREET AND PLAY WITH THEM IN PUBLIC AGAIN.

I MEAN COME ON!!!!

Finally – due to the near constant pants shitting stupidity of the folks of Sombertown – Kris is finally arrested, along with the sex cult, the Winter junky and the Penguin. They manage to make their escape by feeding “magic seed corn” to some unsuspecting reindeer that are then able to “fly.”

Now officially on the lam, Kris finally decides it’s time to wear a disguise. How does he accomplish this? By growing a fucking beard. You’re the only 6’4” Ginger in this part of the world. How you going to disguise yourself? BY GROWING MORE RED HAIR.

You gonna change your outfit? Nope. Just growing the beard. Oh and I’ll change my name to Claus. That ought to throw them off.

Hey – are you that 6’4” red head who goes around delivering illegal presents named Kringle? Nope. My name is Claus. And I have a beard.

They also decide to relocate their base of operations. TO THE NORTH FRICKING POLE. The same group of people who couldn’t push a full sleigh down a mountain are now relocating to the NORTH POLE.

How does the war against toys finally finish up? Eventually – GENERATIONS LATER – the Burgermeister’s finally die out – without apparently having learned neither the meaning of Christmas nor having been overthrown.

And Kris aka Santa Claus eventually is unable to keep up with demand, and tells all those bitches that that he ain’t coming but once a year and then proceeds to try and get out of that obligation every single Christmas after that. But that is another story.

Santa’s Crimes – Possession of a controlled substance, Distribution of a controlled substance, Trespassing, Escaping From Prison, Breaking and Entering, Contributing to the delinquency of minors, Sedition, Obstruction of Justice, Resisting Arrest, Evading Prosecution, Illegal Surveillance, Animal Endangerment, and quite possibly Pedophilia – this is the song he sings to the Girls and Boys of Sombertown –

Oh, what a good girl
Oh, what a good boy
Oh what a big smile
All because of a toy!

If you sit on my lap today
A kiss a toy is the price you'll pay
When you tell what you wish for --
In a whisper
Be prepared to pay.

If you sit on my lap today
A kiss a toy is the price you'll pay
When you sit on my left knee
Don't be stingy
Be prepared to pay.

If whenever you take
You give a little back
Then whoever you love
Will give a little love back
So give a little love
Get a little love back
Don't you have a little love
That you want to get back

If you sit on his lap today
A kiss a toy is the price you'll pay
When you sit on his left knee
Don't be stingy
Be prepared to pay.

Now if you sit on my lap today
A kiss a toy is the price you'll pay!

Douchebag Rating –

A+ if you are really into being a douchebag

-Chris Hainsworth

Josh Vaughn's Birthday Party this Sunday at F.O. Mahoney's (EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW)

This Sunday is a very important day. It marks the birthday of "Reviews You Can Iews" restaurant critic and Wrigleyville hero, Josh Vaughn. I had a chance to chat with Josh about his plans for the future and what to expect from his upcoming birthday party this Sunday at F.O. Mahoney's. 3701 N. Broadway in Chicago.

Andy

Yo Josh!

Josh

WHADUUUUUPP BRO!

Andy

How's your summer been going?

Josh

HIGH FIVE HIGH FIVE HIGH FVIE1

HIGH FIVE !

Fuckin great, bruh! Other than the Cubs, bro.

Andy

What happened to the Cubs?

Josh

Bro, seriously. Bro...Bro

Andy

What?

Josh

In the shitter, man. Tanked mid season.

Lou's gone. D Lee's gone.

Whatever bro. So whassup Andy?

Andy

Just enjoying the summer, myself. I hear your birthday is coming up soon?

Josh

FUCK YEEAAAAHHHH! GONNA BE OFF THE HOOK, SON!

Andy

How old are you going to be?

Josh

Having shots at F.O. Mahoneys, this Sunday night, the 5th.

Turning 32, bruh. one more year til my Jesus birthday.

Andy

Are you doing anything special?

Josh

Got my buddy Mike Collins, who's the owner, cuz bro, I've got peeps, bro, to hook us up.

Andy

Are you gonna be drinking shots?

Josh

Yeah, man. Got my boys Travis, Trent, and Tyler hanging out

Andy

Any chicks?

Josh

Fuck yeah, bruh! Jaeger bombs, O-bombs, whatever. J-mo. Bring it

bro.

bro.

bro.

Seriously?

Who the fuck you think you're talking to?

Andy

Ummm... Josh Vaughn?

Josh

This is Josh Vaughn, school career assists leader in lacrosse at Southwest Missouri State.

Thats right!!!

Will there be chicks!?

Andy

My b, Josh.

So, when everybody gets there, are you going to make them sing a song or something?

Josh

only Trista, Terra, Taylor, Tiffany, Tressa, and whoever else can't resist the Vaugh-a-thon!

Oh yeah, the shots song that Little John raps

Andy

Fuck yeah, bro.

Josh

Vaughn-a-thon

Oh, bro, I got a whole mix from my I pod set to go

Andy

Josh, what do you want to change about your life during this next year?

Josh

Got Dre, Tupac, NWA

Change? Hmm, thats a good question.

Andy

I know.

Josh

Probably sewttle down, find a nice girl to start a family with in the burbs.

Psych!!!

Gotcha Andy!

I aint changing nothing, bro!

Living Life a quarter mile at a time, bruh!

Andy

That's the way that life was meant to be lived for you, my Bro.

You are one in a million.

Josh

Bruh, I am the center of the Wrigleyville universe.

If I go, it would be like the sun disappearing or something.

Andy

A Prince of Wrigleyville. Josh, tell me a story about your birthday last year, and maybe it will entice people to come this year.

Josh

Well, around 4 in the morning, I was mackin on this chick at Nick's Uptown, and her boyfriend shows up. Some hipster dude, with glasses and a mustache. You know, the kind of dude without a job. Fuckin loser.

Andy

and?

Josh

so he's all, excuse me, but you're in my seat, and I'm all like, no dude, I'm just awesome. And he's all like, Death Cab, or this and that, so Me and Travis drag his ass out, cuz I know the bouncer, he's cool with me, and we throw him out.

Cuz, bro...it's my birthday.

Andy

Woah dude. This seems like an awesome party!

Josh

so Travis and I do some more shots

and the girl...leaves!

I was all, we did you a favor!

So we go back out, the dude is still there. Waiting for her. So we both punch him in the face.

Andy

Josh. Did this really happen?

Josh

I think so, I got the police report around here somewhere.

Andy

Ok, ok. Sorry to doubt you.

So give me a brief rundown of what is happening this Sunday.

Josh

Its ok. Lots of people can't believe the awesome

Well, I'll be there around 6, the bros may be coming a little later after volleyball.

I'm gonna get some food, cuz they got a pretty decent menu, bruh.

After I fill up, gonna order some grape bombs to start, you know, for vitamins. Then they got pitchers, bro!

Like the only Wrigley bar that does without paying $20!

Andy

Do they have chicken wings?

Josh

Fuck yeah they do!

Fuckin awesome ones!

Then, when the time's right, we're going either to Uptown Lounge or the Admiral. Get some lap dances

Hottest dancers in the city there.

Andy

Yeah?

My sister works there.

Josh

Yeah, I know

Andy

Ok, well I can't wait to see you on Sunday night!

Happy birthday!

Josh

Me too, bro! Drink alot of water this week!

Andy

Any last thoughts for the public?

Josh

Yeah,

Life isn't a race. It's a Vaughn-a-thon.

Andy

Thanks Josh!

Josh

Fuck yeah, dude.

Nick's On Wilson- Restaurant (GUEST REVIEWER JOSH VAUGHN)

Whaddup botches! Josh Vaughn back with another Bar review you can eiws! This time, I checked out Nick’s on Wilson. This one is important cuz normally, I don’t go farther north than Irving Park (unless I’m gonna get some. I’m not a dunce, yo.)

I mean, Wrigley Ville is my set. Every door guy knows me. I got mad cred. That, and, let’s face it, Uptown ain’t exactly Naperville, bro. I heard some dude got a Columbian necktie up there once.

Normally, Nick’s Uptown is my cutoff, but lately, it’s a meat market, total butcher’s sausage shop. Wall to wall dude. And that bitch behind the bar charged me for shots, AGAIN, so I’m boycotting that shit.

It was late on a Tuesday, and this totally hot chick that I worked with (and who totally wants me, she just don’t wanna admit it, I’ve-got-a-boyfriend crap) was in town getting work done at Tattoo Factory. So she’s all “Let’s go to Nick’s, but I’m not drinking.” And I’m all like, “oh, sure thing, doll. Whatever you want.” Meanwhile, I’m fishing in my pocket for that extra GHB (Always be prepared, fellas).

So we got to the place on Wilson and Racine and I’m like, bro. Yikes. It’s like a good night in South Detroit. (Fuckin JOURNEY!!!!). We get to the place, and it ain’t bad. Got a nice layout, like a speakeasy or something. Cool old school bar. They got these weird porno paintings on the wall. The best part, though, is they got one of those mini shuffle board games in the back! Hey man, best way to score some beer money is to school some dumbass on this thing.

But, man, the bartender, first off, was a DUDE! Some fuckin’ heavy metal guy who kept playing Cannibal Corpse or whatever on his I-pod. I mean, would it kill you to play some Kings of Leon, or Three Doors Down!? Those guys rock! And he was all too cool for school, and I’m like, fuck you, bro! Go get your roadie job for Slipknot back!

And the place was empty, which is another reason you need some hotness behind the bar, like Coyote Ugly, or Duffy’s. I mean, I barbacked, bro. I know the business.

So they got a decent selection on tap. I rocked the PBR, so I could get some Jaeger Bombs (always budget, dudes. That way the girl thinks you give a fuck.) They got other weird stuff, too, like Shiner Bock, and that Revolution Brewery place. They got decent specials depending on the night ($4 Blue moon, $4 Jameson shots). And they’re open till 4am, which is the main attraction.

I totally ran into some buddies, we hung out, got some shots, but it was my girl that took priority. But she’s all, I gotta drive home to Champaign or wherever, and I’m all like, Fine! I get you ginger ale, and tell you you’re beautiful, and I ain’t getting any play!?! So the bouncer threw me out, but it was close to closing anyway.

So, wrap up. Nick’s on Wilson, it’s all right, but it should be called Uptown Cock Block. Next time I’m going to Big Shitty.



C+

Restaurant Review- Beckett's (RESTAURANT REVIEWER JOSH VAUGHN)

Whats up, bros?!



Josh “ Don't Call me J. V.” Vaughn here. I'm writing a new column for Eric and Andy! I'm a graduate of Southwest Missouri State, where I am career assists leader for Bears Lacrosse! Go Bears! I graduated (“D” is for diploma) with a degree in communications, and now I'm in personal banking for Morgan Stanley downtown.



But I love to party, bro. Cubs games, frat reunions, St. Patty's day, whatever. So I'll be reviewing bars from all over ----wait, hold up...getting a text.................dude.



Alright anyway, I'm going all over town, cuz, you know, that's what I do, bruh. I'll give you the scoop on all the places I go. If they rule. If they suck. Specials. Throw some bags. Brunch it up with some bloodies. Whatever, bro---hold up, getting a call......Trent!....Trent!.........yeah, bro, I got the tickets......I got the tickets!!.......third baseline...yeah, by Ram, dude.....fuck you, dude!......yeah....yeah.....lates.



So my first review is some English place called Beckett's, on Lincoln and Belmont.



So I walk in there, bro, and I'm like, bro. I mean, its huge. Got like seats for 800 people. And I guess for people who like to read, cuz there were books on all of the walls. And like really nice, too. Like wood, everywhere.

I guess the place is named after Samuel Beckett, some queer bait writer like in Shakespeer time. I learned that in English Survey class. GO BEARS! Lacrosse rules!!!



Yeah, so, me and my buddy Travis sat at the bar. Decent beer selection, Miller Lite and Bud Lite. I didn't see if they had any Jaeger, but they got Red Bull in the can, which is so much better that that Banzai shit in the gun. When I was barbacking I 'd be doing bombs with that and it was nasty bro!



The bartender was a for real Irish guy, named Seamus or something. Travis couldn't remember his name so we were like, “Hey, Bro-ny Danza!” or “Hey, Bro Namath!” Pretty cool dude. Didn't give us free shots, though. I mean, bro, we dropped some cake! Hook a brother up!



The place was layed out kinda cool, though. Big tall booths along the back wall. Tables everywhere. Fireplace in the back. Chicks dig fireplaces, bro. Got one in my condo. South Loop, HOLLLAAA! And these paintings of old dudes on the walls. Fuckin creepy.



We were there during the day, so it was pretty much empty except for us, being awesome. The way I see it, the earlier you start, you can recover more quickly. Gotta maintain, bro, so you can get to Sound Bar or Rockitt when the chicks are out. Fuck yeah, bro. Fuckin PHD in Playernomics!



You gotta give yourself time to go home and change shirts. I just got this awesome Affliction tee, the one Chuck Liddell wears, fucking bad ass.



Decent menu, they got buffalo wings, burgers, and weird stuff, like Shepard's Pie and fish and chips. But the one thing they got going for them are the specials. We were there on a Tuesday and all the beer is half price!! We hooked it up bro! I asked Bro Piscopo if we could play beer pong, but like I said, he was Irish, so he didn't speak English. Fuckin dick. Get a green card, Bro Jackson!



On Thursday the draft beer is half price, and they got shot specials all week, and a cheap brunch all weekend.



So we got hammered. Travis was all like, dude, let's got to Wiener Circle, and I'm like, bro, that's not fun til closing time. They don't start swearing at you til then. So we paid our tab and went to Wrigleyville to watch the game at Cubby Bear.



So, overall...place is alright. They just need to hire some American chicks, dude. Oh, and get some girls in there hanging out, man. You ain't gonna stay in business long without some 'tang. But it's the right price and a cool place to go when you're recovering, or if you wanna like, read poetry or something.



Alright, bitches, gotta get back to work. Got a guy on the other line interested in a 401k. Peace. GO CUUUUUBBBBBBSSSSS!!!!!

Beckett's
Overall grade: B

HEALTH WATCH: Playing “Bags” will turn you into a Douche! (Guest Reviewer Anthony Tournis)

This A-GASM is for your own damn good(and just like Campbell’s soup…it’s good for you(I would like to welcome Campbell’s soup as my new sponsor(by sponsor I mean thing that I am eating out of a can because I don’t have bowls(poverty)))) . There is an epidemic sweeping across this country(are you scared yet?). It could be effecting you without you even knowing about it(DAMN! That is scary!), it effects men of every age (OH SHIT I’M SCARED!!!), and there is no cure (I just turned my pants into a FUDGE FACTORY!!!). What the hell is it? The epidemic is douchebaggery. Do not take being a douche lightly. There is no turning back when you set out down that road. Sure it starts off easily but you could be a full blown douche before you know it. Early warning signs include socks with sandals(just wear shoes, dumbass), wearing a baseball hat with the tags on it( you just look like an idiot who forgot to take the tags off of his shitty hat), being a Yankee’s fan (self explanatory) and listening to Coldplay( I thought you were a man…my mistake). One of the easiest ways to turn douche is by playing “bags”. First of all, it isn’t called “bags”. The correct term is cornholing (cornholing also means having butt sex(technical term(yep…I’m not making this up))). I guess they started calling it “bags” when guys would say things like “Bro! Me and like five dudes were in the alley last night until 3 a.m. drinking and cornholing. It was awesome! We are going to drink and cornhole all night tonight! Wanna come over? Cool! Bring that big sack of yours!” Cornholing (the game) is simple. You throw bags (which look like nutsacks) at a hole in piece of wood. The game was started by some disgruntled frat boys who were sick of manning the gloryholes in their frat house, and wanted to have some fun. They took the holey boards (not Jesus holy(holey so these frat boys could blow each other and remain anonymous)) and started throwing little nutsacks at them. Viola! Cornholing is invented! During spring and summer is the season for contracting douche via cornholing. It starts off simple: You go to your friends place for a barbeque, he has cornholing all set up in his back yard (y’know just in case the party goes south), you see a couple of “cool” (cool is in quotations because these guys are douches) guys tossing the nutsacks around, you start to think “that doesn’t look too difficult”, you walk over and declare you got next game (you start turning your hat around backwards (early douche signs), and the next thing you know you are talking to a bunch of guys about how awesome Jimmy Buffet is. BAM! You are a douche! You might as well highlight your hair, chew some dip, and tune up your acoustic guitar because you are tainted (taint). This A-GASM is a warning! Once you catch douche it is next to impossible to get rid of it (cornoling is a gateway drug to becoming a douche( might as well fake tan and end it all)) . Do not go down the cornholing road! It might look like fun, but after you walk down that path it’s nothing but Ed Hardy clothes and UFC magazines (no one wants that). Just say no to cornholing!