Tag: humor

Boho Chick Festival Packing List

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-17 beaded hemp headbands
-Bikini bottoms
-25 hula-hoops
-Heart-shaped Ray Bans
-Backup heart-shaped Ray Bans
-9 asymmetrical gemstone rings (per hand)
-Hella coconut water
-Bubbles
-Moonstones
-Shorts that look like belts
-Your mom’s Woodstock sarong
-Chihuahua rescue
-Boastful yet #grateful hash tags
-Friend to sneak you into VIP
-Dude who’s crushing you to save spot at the front
-Ring pops (for hunger)

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Photo credit: echoroo via Foter.com / CC BY.

The Bluegrass Zodiac: June Horoscopes

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Banjo: Paradox abounds this month when stepping back from your free, late-night banjo solo shows in the courtyard results in your neighbors talking to you again.

Mandolin: The new moon in Gemini will give you the false sense that the ambitious half of your brain will rear its sleepy head and do literally anything to improve your current train wreck of a life.

Bass: You’ll find it easier to purge and cleanse your soul this week after you stumble home drunk and eat some questionable leftovers.

Fiddle: Your quest for total internal and external freedom from responsibility this month will result in the tragic demise of your roommate’s cat.

Ukulele: If your Summer festival vendor sales are any indication of the general public’s reaction to your artisan instruments, you might as well go ahead and fill those boxes back up with cigars.

Guitar: Re-evaluate your plans to go electric. You still need to get a few more gigs before you can afford to get it turned back on.

Dobro: The stars advise you that, even though it’s almost summertime, there is never a justifiable reason to wear Chacos on stage.

Drummer: The transcendent universal energy that inspires you to give away all the band comps to a bachelorette party that never shows up will be just one of many unwanted side effects of this month’s meth bender.

Accordion: Relying on your intuition will prove fruitful this week when you correctly identify a gelatinous blob in your van seat as three melted grape Gushers from the band’s stoner candy binge last week.

Singer: During the full moon, you’ll realize it’s festival season, frantically send emails to organizers, receive replies explaining that they book years in advance, and return to crying alone in your room.

Pedal Steel: When your high school invites you to give a talk next month as the featured musician, you’ll graciously accept without knowing you were selected for the “Poor Life Choices” segment.

Harmonica: The stars don’t care how light your instrument is, you still have to help the band unload the rest of the gear.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

8 Easy No-Fuss Meals for the Road

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1. Use a piece of chewed gum to gather snacks from the crevices of the van like peanuts, French fries, raisins, and the last few bites of your 3 AM Crunchwrap Supreme.
 
2. Hot dogs don’t need to be refrigerated, so throw a pack in your gig bag for a little boost of sodium and snout before taking the stage.
 
3. Take driving breaks at local parks with ponds. While everyone else uses the restroom, stroll over to the pond and refill your water bottle with duck blood.
 
4. Margarine is cholesterol-free, so mix with kale and water for a healthy mid-morning smoothie.
 
5. Many people enjoy veal and lamb, which tastes just like the kittens you’ll find for free in boxes at many roadside stops.
 
6. The five-second rule applies to animals you hit driving at night, so stay alert next time you hit a deer to make sure it’s venison you’re eating and not road kill.
 
7. Wait until a full tray of samples is set out at Whole Foods and calmly consume as many as you can before you get strange looks from the staff.
 
8. Complain that there were toenails in your band meal at the venue; chances are they will give you another one. If not, bonus toothpicks!
 

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Photo credit: londondesigner.com via Foter.com / CC BY.

5 Places to Put Your Awkward Hands on Stage

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1. Behind Your Back

This is the most common way to pretend you don’t feel naked, terrified, and alone without your axe. Distract yourself by fixing your wedgie, playing the finger-circle-punch-in-the-shoulder game with the drummer, or imagining your life without arms. See? Now it’s not so bad.

2. In Your Pockets

You didn’t realize you wouldn’t have an instrument for this tune and now the song has started and you’re center stage with your hands in your pockets. You try to portray it as a cool, casual way of saying you sing without protection all the time and it doesn’t bother you. See how you switch it up and sometimes just hook your thumbs on the outsides of your pockets? Pro moves, buddy. Pro moves.

3. Hooked Together Like the Von Trapp Children

Don’t do this, you pretentious asshole. Unless you’re performing in front of an Austrian baroness, in which case you’ve got much bigger problems on your … ugh, never mind. Reserved for children and yodelers.

4. At Your Sides

Tough to pull off and still look natural. When you’re singing and the spirit moves you, do you raise your hands in wax-on-wax-off formation? For how long? How do you return them to your sides without too much distraction? This is intermediate/expert level and practitioners should proceed with caution.

5. On Your Hips

Look at you, sassafras! You’re purty, flirty, and a little bit dirty. Bump out that hip and give it a little bounce, girl! No one will notice your hands on your hips because they’ll be too busy judging your looks and your outfit, subconsciously deciding if you’re attractive enough to put yourself out there that much. WIN!

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Photo credit: ^JAN^ via Foter.com / CC BY-ND

Methjaw County Gazette: Special Mule Days Edition

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It’s that time of year again, folks! People from all over headed down to celebrate at the 91st Annual Methjaw County Mule Days Festivities and Triathlon held in our home town of Bitter End, Tennessee.

Smuggling — or “mulein,” as we say around here — has been a long-standing tradition in Methjaw County ever since Bitter End founder, Paddy O’Methjaw, came over from Ireland with nothing but the clothes on his back and the bottle of whiskey up his keister. He made the long journey across the Atlantic Ocean, then walked from Ellis Island down to East Tennessee. That’s when he found himself in what was then known as the "Valley of the Kmart." He took that bottle of cheap Irish whiskey that he had waddled all the way down from New York City and traded it to the Chief of the Kmartian Tribe for a double-wide teepee and the 250,000 acres that make up present-day Methjaw County.

Mayor Crabtree kicked off the weekend’s events by presenting Your’s Truly, the Darrell Brothers, with the prestigious Slim Jim to the City. He said we was the biggest thing that’s ever come out of Methjaw County, then gave us two commemorative ankle bracelets. One for each of us.

After everyone got through telling us how great we are, it was time to start the Mule Days Triathlon. All the participants lined up outside of Clive Willingham’s old place and took to triathlonin as soon as Harry Merkin fired his sawed-off shotgun. The race route retraces the steps of Paddy O’Methjaw’s very last whiskey run up through Kneecap Mountain and around Stankyleg Lake. Participants must compete in all the three different legs of the event, unless they can figure out a way to fool the umpires and sneak around a checkpoint or two.

Last year's winner, Myra Stanley, was leading through the Mountain Four Wheeler Race and Grow House Assembly legs, but wound up being disqualified after she got caught draining some of the liquor out of the jugs she was supposed to carry to the finish line, and Roger Stevens was declared the winner.

The race finished up in the town square just in time for the Traditional Irish Magic Show and Homemade Fireworks Display put on by local magician "Tyrell the Terrific" and his good-looking assistant, Miss Rhonda. This was Tyrell’s first time back since the 87th Annual Mule Days when he got drunk and tried to pull a top hat out of a rabbit. Good to have you back, Tyrell!

In an effort to preserve our culture with the local youth, the Methjaw Historical Foundation put on the third annual Youth Mule-a-Thon down at the strip mall. There was three age categories ranging from 4-8, 8-12, and 13+ in the competition with a prize being awarded for highest dollar value of items lifted while staying out of sight of the security cameras. In the 13+ "Grandmaster's Division," Kathun McDowell won the $500 Grand Prize with his haul of camouflage, insulated Yeti tumblers that he had filled up with five-blade razor refills and organic cigarettes. Little Eddie Calicut finished second and was awarded a suspended sentence.

We closed out the festival Saturday night by hosting a $10 entry Elephant Drop Bingo then having an old-fashioned square dance and concert right on the town square.

Thankfully this year, only 27 arrests were made, down from a high of 173 in 2012. So a good time was had by all!

We'd like to thank the Methjaw County Tourism Board for putting on the events, and the Methjaw County Tent Preachers and Medicine Men Union Local 705 for coordinating the clean up on Sunday.

Please make plans to join us in Methjaw County next year for Mule Days, and remember to keep up with the Darrell Brothers on Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube!

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Lede photo credit: Skley via Foter.com / CC BY-ND

The Bluegrass Zodiac: May Horoscopes

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Dobro: A carnal fantasy will come true next week; unfortunately, it’s with an old clown behind the ring toss game because the gods thought you meant carnival.

Bass: This Thursday, no one will understand why you show up to the party with five jars of mayonnaise.

Guitar: You will develop a violent allergy to banjo solos this month, so keep an Epiphone on you at all times.

Singer: Going out for 2-4-1 rail drinks at your local bar this weekend isn’t what the cosmos had in mind when you wanted to celebrate a pub deal.

Drums: You’ll burst into tears when your neighbors tell you they cut back your weeds because that’s what your girlfriend made you do last month.

Mandolin: Resolve this month to keep following your dreams even it if means you don’t get out of bed until dinnertime.

Fiddle: Take heart in knowing it’s not how much you practice the fiddle; it’s knowing you’re just never going to be any good at it.

Ukulele: The stars advise you not to give up after you find out how exhausting and expensive it is to look like a hobo onstage.

Banjo: After three days of baking in the festival sun, trading your Silvertone for a full bottle of Coppertone doesn’t seem like a terrible deal at all.

Pedal Steel: When asked about your new look, tell the rest of the band a coonskin cap isn’t a fashion accessory; it’s a piece of Americana.

Harmonica: Go ahead and tell yourself that Mercury Retrograde won’t affect that 25-date tour you’re advancing right now. The cosmic trickster is definitely not pointing and laughing.

Accordion: While other bands are boycotting North Carolina venues, now is a great time to pitch your 90-minute solo polka set.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Band Wife Unaware She’s in an Open Relationship

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Asheville, NC — Devoted wife Erin Stanton remained unaware of her open relationship status on Monday night as she awaited the return of her husband from a two-week run of dates with his band.

“I know the band isn’t dropping Ben off until nine-ish, but I’m sure he’ll be hungry, so I’m keeping the lasagna warm in the oven. I’ll reheat it at 8:45.” She tilted her head and considered, “Maybe they stopped for fast food along the way? But I’ll have something waiting, just in case. Excuse me, I have to run downstairs to see if we still have some of that scotch he likes.”

Ben Stanton, bass player in local band Little Sizzle, had indeed already eaten dinner, spending half of his band split with his side dish Katie Kenwood at an upscale restaurant just outside of town. When Kenwood inquired nervously whether his wife would worry why he wasn’t home yet, Ben brushed it off.

“Erin’s so progressive, man. She knows I’m with you and she’s not expecting me back until after nine. I can always call and tell her I’m staying at your place tonight, if it gets late. I love this open marriage thing.” Ben stopped short, trying to remember if he still had any condoms left in his Dopp kit after weeks on the road telling women he was free to sleep with whomever he wanted. Sure the box was empty, he made a mental note to pick some up next time he stopped for smokes.

“I wonder if he’ll want to watch a movie and relax or just go straight to bed,” Erin wondered aloud, changing into lingerie and a robe and readjusting the candles on the bedside tables. “Probably bed … two weeks is a long time for both of us to go without sex. I have my romance novels, but he’s stuck with his stinky band mates, the poor guy.”

Meanwhile, Ben, who was getting humped in the backseat by Kenwood in a cul-de-sac a few streets over, checked his watch and finished quickly. “I’ll see you this weekend, babe,” he said as she dropped him at the end of the Stantons' driveway. “Erin’s going over to her sister’s house and said it was cool to hang with you.”

The back door swung open just as the oven timer was going off and Erin was deciding whether to strike a sexy wall pose or rush with abandon to greet her road-weary husband. Feigning a full-body yawn, Ben dropped his gear, pecked his wife on the head, and headed to the bedroom.

“Can I get one of your famous foot rubs, baby? I missed our home so much.” Her husband began snoring after a few minutes, so Erin tucked his feet under the covers, smiling to herself about the small joys of a committed relationship.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Photo credit: Jeff Belmonte via Foter.com / CC BY.

Dear Chris Stapleton

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From: Patrick Haynes
To: Chris Stapleton
Date: Monday, April 4, 2016 at 11:44 AM
Subject: write?

Hey man!

How’s it going, Chris? I’m in Nashville for a few weeks visiting from L.A. to see if I want to pursue songwriting full-time. I’ve been busking outside the bars on Division trying to meet some fellow troubadours, earn a few bucks, and score pub deals. I got some weird looks for setting up my iPad and Square inside my guitar case, even though that’s how most of us West Coast songwriters and bums get paid nowadays.

Anyway, I’ve been asking around town to see who’s hot these days and your name keeps coming up. You’re definitely at the top of my list of people I want to connect with while I’m in town, so I wanted to see how your schedule looks the next couple weeks. I bet if we got together in a room for an afternoon, we could knock out a huge hit.

A little about me: My style is a bit Sheena Easton meets Skrillex, with a dash of New Jack Swing for good measure. My mom sang at church and my dad was always playing the radio in the car, so I come from a very rich musical background. I definitely want to get into country music — Kid Rock and Hootie were formative influences on my songwriting.

Oh, and I have a beard and a hat that’s never been washed, too! Great minds, right? 

And, hey, Chris, if you don’t have time this week to schedule a co-write with me, maybe we can just grab a beer with Dave. Would love an intro. What’s your cell?

All warms,
p.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Photo courtesy of Chris Stapleton

The Bluegrass Zodiac: April Horoscopes

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Singer: Someday your “Southern glass harp” solo will be a huge hit at your neighbor’s annual pickin' party, so keep splashing your way into the middle of that circle with your folding table and memaw’s spittoon collection.

Bass: Gear up for festival season by eating wild mushrooms from your yard and discreetly vomiting into anything within arm’s reach.

Banjo: Clouds will obscure the moon this weekend when the forecast calls for April showers, you dirty hippie.

Dobro: You will be invited to Sundance to showcase the hours of captivating cell phone videos you captured at concerts last year.

Accordion: Unfortunately, most fans will never see the band video you posted on Facebook; fortunately, they also won’t see you drinking alone.

Guitar: You will find a way to navigate through the tricky terrain of saying no to anyone who wants to borrow your capo during the entire tour.

Fiddle: The haunting energy you are experiencing this month is the tote full of merch you forgot at the venue two nights ago which is now screaming from inside a dumpster set on fire by a hobo.

Harmonica: Jupiter in your sector of equality this month will bring satisfaction knowing that every time you roll a joint, a douchebag loses their vape pen.

Mandolin: Next month, you will humble brag about the high critical acclaim and 10/10 review of your next record by relying on the population’s general laziness not to trace the source to your retired dad’s Tumblr page.

Ukulele: Use April Fools' Day to meditate on what you thought you’d be doing with your college education.

Drummer: Fend off skeptics who say you can’t make records and feed your family anymore by getting a back-alley vasectomy under the full moon light.

Pedal Steel: Most musicians are kind and gentle souls. Avoid the stereotype by employing abrasive Drumpf-style yelling at every turn.

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Illustration by Abby McMillen

Methjaw County Gazette: March 16

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Easter Time Leads to Communion Shortage Emergency 
It was big doins at the Everbody’s Goin' to Hell ‘Cept Us Reformed Independent Pentecostal Holiness Bible Church of the USA in downtown Bitter End on Sunday for Easter. Deacons Claude Littlefinger and José Escambia Victor Herrera Rico Gomez, Jr. led a beautiful service in the place of Preacher Grundy, who is still laid up recovering from the Monday Thursday Snake Toss. Ms. Grundy told us that the Preacher's injuries occurred after the service when he was charmin them little boogers back to his parsonage across the road at the Krystyl Kamelot Trailer House Park. Preacher Grundy is up at the Methjaw County Medical Duplex in room, 1B if you want to send well wishes. The family is asking that Skoal Cherry Long Cut may be sent in loo of flowers.

The Ladies Auxillary was all dolled up in their beautiful long skirt Easter dresses and hats, and made sure the church was all cleaned up before the service. Auxillary President Shasta Hangnail recently lost her pet Peach-Faced Lovebird "Hoohoo" to a horrible vacuum cleaner accident, but her Hoohoo was with us in spirit and in person, as his torso adorned the top of Ms. Hangnail's beautiful Easter Hat. It was a sight to behold.

One little hitch did occur when we realized that the ladies had been so busy with their dresses and hats to remember to bake more communion bread to dunk in the Mountain Dew that Preacher Grundy blessed last week. Luckily, little Kandler Conway's mama Kathy had brought some of his Cinnamon Toast Crunch in her purse, and had enough for everybody to have one piece. Everyone agreed that this was much easier than baking and cutting them little pieces of bread anyway and it will be a new Easter tradition here in Methjaw County.

Easter Baby Miracle
After church, we all went down to the Waffle Hut to settle down with the traditional Appalachian Easter dinner of Fried Livermush, Fried Squash, Fried Snoutmeat, Boiled Peanuts, Fried Pickled Eggs, Fried Snickers, and fresh Kale and Goat Cheese Quiche Lorraine Tart ala mode.

Nobody was there long before Sheila Snodgrass hollered out that she had found a hyperdormant needle in her Livermush. Well, all the excitement of all the people rushing over to look at her plate threw Sheila into a fit and she acted like she was about to fall out from her high sugar. Turns out, Sheila has been pregnant for the last eight months but nobody knew about it (including Shelia) and she was a goin into labor!

As luck would have it, county nurse Cindy Shopvack was there eating and helped deliver a beautiful baby girl right there on a Waffle Hut booth table. Sheila ain't married and says she has no idea how the little baby got in her, so we reckon it must be a miracle Easter baby just like in the Good Book. Both mama and the baby she's named Easter Dinner Snodgrass are healthy and doing well and they're also down there at the Methjaw Memorial Medical Duplex in room 2B.

Coming Attractions
Melvin Rickards is hosting his annual possum shoot down at Rickards Farm this Thursday. $300 in cash prizes will be awarded, as well as a free qualifying spot at the Possum Shoot Festival and National Championships over in Dingleberry Ridge, West Virginia, next month. Melvin told us that there would be no repeat of last year, and he's fixed his mechanical sling shot up real good. Rickards said, "There should be no problem getting them possums up at least 50 feet in the air as required by International Possum Shooting Federation guidelines."

 

Keep follerin us on the Facebooks and on Twitters, and right here at the Bluegrass Situation for more news from back home in Methjaw County!

The above is a work of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental … although entirely likely.

Lede photo credit: Skley via Foter.com / CC BY-ND