Saturday, December 30, 2006

The Roast

A while back my friend EZ thought that it would be a good idea to have a roast in order to celebrate the fact that Blugstuff crossed the 50,000 hit mark. I agreed that it sounded like a great idea. I have never been one to take myself to seriously. Just look at the crap that I post. How could I take that seriously at all. Thanks to all that have submitted something for the Roast and go ahead and raise a little hell in the comment section. I can take it. I hope.


Catch: Fuzz was in line at the Super Market when he notices a hot blonde behind him has just raised her hand and smiled hello to him.
He is stunned that such a hottie would be waving to him, and although familiar he can't place where he might know her from, so he says "sorry do you know me?"
She replies "I maybe mistaken, but I thought you might be the father of one of my children!"
His mind shoots back to the one and only time he has been unfaithful,
"Hey" he says "are you that stripper at my bachelor party that I had on the pool table in front of all my friends, while your partner whipped me with some wet celery and stuck a cucumber up my ass?"
"No" she replies, "I'm your son's English Teacher"

You guys all remember when Fuzz went on the school trip with the kids....I bet he dont go next year!!!

I have to raise my glass in a personal toast to my friend Fuzz. Your a good guy Fuzz...Im glad to have you for a friend. I love your sense of humor!!!
Now lets drink up so I can get to bed!!! Huggs to you Fuzz!..Your friend ~ Catch

Michael: I wondered what I could possibly say about the man, myth and legend. Not knowing what the twisted bastard does for a living gave me a different idea.
This might not even be what he's looking for but fuck him, he asked for it.

Maybe Fuzz was a 911 operator?
Fuzz: 911. What's your emergency?
Woman: Please dear God, help me! My husband is choking on a chicken bone and I don't know what to do!
Fuzz: (provocatively) hmm, what are you wearing?
Nope. Definitely not a 911 operator.

Maybe he's a grade school teacher?
Prof. Fuzz: Alright class, settle down, settle down, sett - Shut up! You little fuckbubbles! (pause) That's better.
Now, I don't feel much like reading or writing or any of that algebra shit because I'm a bit pissed off. Some grey-haired shitball cut me off as I was pulling into the school parking lot. I don't know about you kids but boy, oh boy, it really frosted my ass.
I want to find out what frosts your stones so from now on Thursdays will be FOAD days, ok?
Susie Bumcakes: What does FOAD mean, Mr. Fuzz?
Prof. Fuzz: Oh, come on, Susie, you little 15 year old, tramp, it means Fuck Off And Die! Everyone knows that!
A school teacher? Ahhh, I don't think so.

How about a sculptor?
Fuzzangelo is working feverishly in his studio on the latest of his great works of art, works highly coveted by people all over the world. His beautiful and curvaceous wife walks in and takes in his latest creation.
"What do you think, my dear?" He asks.
"It looks like everything else you sculpt, Fuzzy," she answers.
"And what does that look like, my dear?"
"It's my ass, Fuzzy. And a very nice facsimile thereof. Looks like you're up to your eyeballs in ass and loving every minute of it."
Sculpting? Maybe not.

I decided to just accept the fact that a world without Fuzz just wouldn't be any damn fun at all. Actually, it would be quite boring. He is an original cowboy that marches to the beat of a very different drummer (though sometimes the drummer likes to drop multiple tabs of acid).
Whenever I visit Blugstuff I keep in mind that old boy scout motto: Be Prepared.
You never know what Fuzz has up his sleeve.
He's also one of my favorite bloggers and though we've never met, I almost consider him a brother.
Keep on rockin' in the free world, Fuzz.
The blogosphere would be lost without you.



Fuzz is a wiz
He is a wiz because
Because because
Of all the blunderful things he does.

The young vixens flock
The old ladies stalk
For the stimulating talk
And occasional gawk

The guys come for the hunt of the turd
The pictures, the music, the word
The purvs show up to read the dirty bird

Guess what I just heard
Fuzz is the word
and he is my favorite turd

Pure Evyl: Here is a little top five list.

The Top Five Reasons that Fuzz is a +50,000 hit blogger.

5. Search Terms: Does anyone think that you are going to get a lot of hits from subjects like babbling babies, cute puppies, or world fucking peace. If you do then you are sadly mistaken. No search terms that get the hits are on subjects of sickness and perversion. And with subjects ranging from transvestite strippers, geriatric sexplay, and on any other sick twisted deviant crap that one can dig from a polluted mind, Fuzz is a sick search term destination deluxe.

4. Diversity: Have you looked at the Blogroll. There are doctors, lawyers, sex therapists in training, business people, strippers, ex-strip club deejays, stay at home moms, and just about every profession around. The blogroll is comprised of just about every religion, ethnicity, geographical area, and even many people from around the world.

3. He's full of shit: If you comment on a post then it is a virtual guarentee that he will say something back. He might be nice but chances are he will have something smartass to say. And who doesn't like to hear a smartass when he is on top of his game.

2. The Ultimate Blogwhore: There is not an ass that he won't kiss for a hit.

1. One Word. Chupacabra!!!!

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Breakfast At The Pole

Trudging home Christmas morning worn out and weary.
Santa was expecting a home warm and cheery.
But he got more than expected for there in his bed
Were three little elves cavorting with Mrs. Santa butt naked.

He shouted and fumed as he he broke out his gun.
You should have seen how those three shorties run.
Then he turned to Mrs. Clause and started to curse
Calling her names quite perverse.

Then he sank to the floor with his head on his chin
And calmly asked her how with elves, she could commit such a sin.
She slipped on her robe and sat down beside him
And explained how she came to be with them.

'So many nights I have sat bored and lonely as cold as a bone
As you delivered toys to the good boys and girls all alone.
So I invited some elves to play some Twister and I just couldn't stop.
It might have been the snap, or the crackle, but most likely it was the pop.'

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Merry Whatever

Here at Blugstuff, there is absolutely no discrimination towards any race, creed, color, cult, national origin, religion, gender, sexual orientation, shoe size, eye color, or geograghical region. So here is a pic that I lifted off a fellow blogger, that just about covers it all.So from me to you whether you be Wiccan or Wiseass, whether you be Saint or Sinner, and no matter where you are from or whatever you call youself, I wish you a happy Christmas, Kwanzai, Hanakkuh, Bodha Day, Ramadan, Winter Solstice, and Festivus.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Checking The E-Mail

It has been awhile since I have done a Friday post but I have received an e-mail from a reader and I am sure that many readers might have had a similar problem.

Dear Fuzz,

I am writing to you in order to ask for your advice. Laying in bed spooning with my wife on a cold winters morning, she rattled a fart off of my leg. I called her a nasty bitch but now I am wondering if that was the proper response or if I should do something else.

Still Sickened

Dear Sickened,

A simple calling of a name and such an unoriginal curse is bound to leave you wanting a little payback. So give her the dutch oven treatment, elephant stamp her, and then sleep secure in the knowledge that you have responded correctly to such a crass affront to your dignity. But you might want to check all foodstuffs for poisons. Might I suggest a small dog and feed him from your plate before every meal to check for ill effects for a week or so.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Shitty TV

The other night I was having a hard time going to sleep and so I trudged into the living room at three in the morning and flipped on the tube. Since Angry Joyce was the last one watching the tube it was on a channel that invariably turns into paid programming in the wee hours of the morn.

I haven't seen any new infomercials in a while so I sat there and preceeded to learn about some fascinating new product. A good infomercial can make a person really desire to buy the most crappy product imaginable. The last one I watched that actually made me want to buy it was for a barbeque grill that ran off used newspaper. I didn't want to buy the product that I saw on this weeks insomniafest but it was a fucking trainwreck and I could not quit watching it.

The infomercial was for a product called Double Cleanse and it told the sorted story about how toxins, herbicides, pesticides, and hormones in today's food supply has clogged our innards and the path to better health, stamina, and vitality runs straight through the shitter. The infomercial went on to state that the average person walks around with 22 pounds of shit stacked in their intestines. Damn, that's like walking around with a small child in your guts packed up to your ass.

One of the inventors signature methods for describing how we can tell if we need cleansed was to ask if your bowel movements were the same in relation in size as an infants or small child. Now I am a father and changed a few diapers in my day and if I shit like my son in relation to my size, I would have a pile of dung that no industrial size toilet could ever flush in three tries. I am sorry but if that is what's needed, then no thanks. I will keep walking around full of shit. First of all it suits me and no one would ever recognize me otherwise and secondly if I had such an elephantine shit my bunghole would be sore for weeks.

So no Double Cleanse for me. I am keeping my shit to myself.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Santa's Favorite Elf

In a corner office in Santa's workshop
Works Santa's favorite elf non-stop.
From dawn to dusk making the toys
For the naughty girls and the happy boys.

She doesn't make cars, boats, or kites.
She doesn't make Barbies, Slinkies, or Lite-Brites.
She makes the toys that make the winter nights warm
With a sly little grin and a world of charm.

So if Santa brings something that makes your cheeks turn red
With a warm glow and a blush from your toes to your head.
It might not have came from an Adult Stores shelf,
You might want to thank Santa's Sex Toy Elf.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Ohh Shit Am I Supposed To Be Jolly

For the past 11 years I have realized just why the Grinch hated Christmas for the NOISE, NOISE, NOISE. He, like me, was forced to attend the annual School Christmas Concert. This year, the school has a new band director. I hate to be disparaging, but after the concert, I wouldn't mind too terribly seeing this man shot in the face with a fucking bazooka. I can tolerate most Christmas Carols, no matter how badly mangled. But a Christmas rap tune and a Negro Spiritual song sang by a bunch of junior crackers that have not an ounce of damned rhythm and lasts longer than a damned Led Zep tune? Give me a fucking break!!! And of course I had to sit through the whole freakin' thing since my boy is in the 5th grade beginning band. They have only been practicing since mid-September. Yeh, it was music to my ears just like the sounds of a couple of cats getting busy. The kicker to it all. The douchebag director decided to split the concert in two by doing the elementary kids one night and the Jr. High and High School bands later this week. Gee Thanks asshole, I hope no one goes postal and starts another school shooting and blasts that goofy Christmas tie off your fucking neck.

Does every commercial have to have a Christmas theme? Any day now, I expect to see a commercial for Yuletide Fresh Feminine Hygiene Spray with the tagline, ' Get your jollies with a coochie snorcher that smells like holly.'


Just a little note: I am now taking e-mails for a roast of your's truly. Send all disparaging remarks, parodies, poems, and trash talk of all kinds to

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

The Hits

Come and gone 50,000 hits.
I never thought so many would click to see this shit.
Pin-ups, models, and risque pics reign
Useless drivel from my twisted brain.

I thank you all for coming to view
This site that exposes my thoughts askew.
For sharing some laughter and some rather gross jokes
For putting up with my rhymes that might go better with a quick toke.

Thanks for coming and the thoughts that you share.
Don't think for a minute that I do not care.
So come on back, I will be right here.
With a dollop of sickness and a dash of good cheer.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

My Kind Of Joint

In Arizona an establishment that is reminiscent of the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup commercial has caught my attention. The Heart Attack Grill features real food fried in real lard with such favorites as the Quadruple Bypass Burger; a four patty mound of nutritional mayhem. But what really sets the place apart is the waitresses. Dressed as naughty nurses in cleavage bearing tops, high heels, and thigh high stockings some prudish nurses are complaining of the uniforms as an affront to their dignity. Personally I see not a thing wrong with the uniforms and there may be other professions that could be spotlighted to add a little zip to an eatery.

The Crazee Tastee Cafeteria - Dressed in Skin Tight uniforms, hair nets, and orthopedic shoes. The lunch ladies will cater to those with fantasies from their grade school past.

The Garage Grill - An eatery for the ladies, with greased up grease monkeys catering to their lubed up fantasies. It would probably work much better than a plumbers themed restaurant featuring food entrees to keep your pipes cleaned out and served by guys with the obligatory plumbers crack.

The Border Crossing Taqueria - Where if a waiter or waitress messes up, they are chased out by security guards dressed as Immigration agents. But make sure and take a shot of Pepto before going or you might get the runs.

Click here for the News Story of the Heart Attack Grill.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Old Mrs. Murphy

The Medic-Alert Dispatcher received the call.
'Mrs. Murphy, are you hurt? Did you fall.'
'Ohh God, Ohh Jesus, Ohh Yes,' was the only reply.
So the dispatcher called the ambulance and told them to fly.

The ambulance drivers called through the door.
'Are you hurt, can you get off the floor.'
With the screams and the moans of a woman in pain,
The drivers busted the door for entrance to gain.

What they saw there made them gasp and groan
Old Man Withers had Mrs. Murphy bent over and was driving his bone.
Her ass in the air as she give it a wiggle.
Even her moles were giving a jiggle.

Her in stockings and garter.
Him with an oversized goiter.
To the drivers it seemed like the ultimate folly,
But the old timers seemed to be getting their jollies.

Their hearing aids out they heard not a peep.
So the drivers backed out at the quietest creep.
This tale could have been different on a different tack,
The surprise could have given the seniors a heart attack.

So for safety's sake, here's a word to your granny.
Before getting jiggy, with your naked ass fanny.
Keep your Medic-Alert bracelet on the bed post and handy.
Not on your wrist, things get wild when the old folks get randy.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

Merry Christmastime Damnit

I have always loved Christmastime. In fact, I find myself singing Christmas tunes all your long ( much to the disgust of Angry Joyce). But now that we recieved our first significant snowfall in the past two years, it really feels like Christmas. The cactus in my parents front yard makes for a great looking Christmas tree and the Christmas cactus in my bedroom is blooming wonderfully. This weekend the halls will be decked and the tree will be trimmed. Soon Christmas will be in full swing.

So Merry Christmas Damnit to all and to all safe shopping. And if you find yourself Out And About In West Texas look for me. I will be easy to spot, with a goofy grin on my face, a Santa hat perched on my noggin, singing Feliz Navidad, and stalking under some mistletoe. Gotta luv the season.