First Ever Roy Medal of Awesome.

This first ever, honorary, medal of awesomeness is being given to a man of great character and mind. Ignoring the weight brought on from his job title, this mad scientist is only looking out for the community. Of course I am talking about the one and only, Bill Nye 'The Science Guy'.

Perhaps the smartest man on the face of the earth (it was once stated he knew half of everything). His television program was myth busters before adam savage was dumping in his special effects diapers. Bill Nye was out in the world, repping volcanoes, checkin mad tornadoes, and swimming with dolphins. All of this for the kids. Bill Nye was a master of the speech, and really knew how to drive a point home. The shit he deposited into my prepubescent mind still rings true to this day. I could name the different layers of the earth because of some rap made up by Bill Nye. He wasn't afraid to flex nerd nuts on America. Chicks to this day still hunt his dick.

Bringing me to the question, What is Bill Nye doing these days. My hypothesis is that he is teaching at some assbutt college somewhere. These kids go to class and get their collective brains jizzed on with the creamiest of curriculum. Think about it. Yeah I have biology 101 with... professor Nye? Nye? is that asian? Then the look on their faces when they get to class. Oh fuck BILL Nye! Damn those lucky anal drips....

So here's to a man so soaked in awesomeness if he got pulled over, he'd get a DUA. So I present the first Roy award to the one and only, Bill Nye.

Weekly Power Rankings: Week 1

Since my fantasy team is in dumpsville, I have to focus the stat crunching side of my brain to something else. Thusly, I have decided to write a new weekly article. I present, for the first time, the Bryan Roy Weekly Power Ranking!

10) Writing (I had to write 35 pages of collective screenplays for Wednesday. It was madness. Literally all the humor had been sapped from my body. It was like a comedy hangover. I could only talk in puns, and witty comebacks. A fart would send me over the edge. It was bad, like I was George Castanza or something. I blame writing for that. It falls to the ten hole.)
9) Rock Band (I wanna play the drums so bad. It's scary how I can be motivated to play a fake instrument, but I'm too lazy to learn a real instrument. However its sithly pricetag force blasts me away. 170 for a video game. Lame.)
8) People Losing Gameshows (such an awkward moment for anybody. Watching the contestants try not to swear or cry and the bumbling host trying to act like a middle school counselor and be their best friend. A feel like game show hosts are like Krusty the Klown. Just jerks in real life who would shit on their fans. That's what makes them great.)
7) Movies (Shit's good. I have been on a self induced bad movie stretch and its treating me like heroin. I want it so badly then I take it and end up feeling sick anyway, but then I want more again. I believe its called 'le vicious cycle'? Here are a few of my faves: "Trucks", "Leprechaun 5: Leprechaun in da Hood", Slaughter High, Victory, etc.)
6) Beer (Beer has had to reinvent itself after a long and busy summer in the top slots. Now with winter brews on their way, and the winter break drink fest on the horizon, beer is looking ready for another climb.)
5) Music (My I-pod has come in through with some clutch time. A must have while waiting for the fucking T. I hate seeing 5 govt center and 3 North Station trains come by before a single Lechemere. Weak. But music lets me zone out, and look at people while listening to Dethklok and Catch 22.)
4) Food (Food just came off a stellar Holiday week. And although it tumble a bit post Thanksgiving, the leftovers are still giving it a good boost.)
3) Internet (I can has Internetz?)
2) Chicks (Chicks are not number one? How can this be?! Speaketh he the word of the gay? NAY I say! Unless a chick lets me bang her doggy style in the living room so I can watch Tom Brady, then maybe that would change)
1) Patriots (Tom Brady to Randy Moss! There it is! Its like watching you older cousin punk your entire family at Tecmo Bowl, then proceed to talk about it for the rest of the day, Thanksgiving 1993. Watching the close game with Philly, and them digging in in the fourth, only made me love them more.)

Where We're Going, We Won't Need Roads

The following is an open letter to the scientific community of the world:

Dear Scientists and Scientesses,

Why are you all a bunch of squares? For centuries you've been hiding behind your beakers and graduated cylinders pretending like you are above bigotry. Yet you continuously put down and degrade a sect of your very own. Of course I am talking about those you so thoughtlessly refer to as, 'Mad' Scientists. For years those labeled as mad have suffered from countless setbacks and put downs simply because they choose to dive deeper into the realm of science.

While you, presumably non-mad scientists, receive plenty of government funding to research things such as "Cancer" and "Obesity", Mad Scientists receive no such funding. The main problem with mad science is the overhead. Plutonium, adamantium, star saffires, and most other materials that are necessary for mad science are extremely rare and therefore expensive. This has caused many scientists to turn to crime, or even to hire thugs to steal these materials for them.

Many point fingers at those in the mad science community as diabolical and unstable
, while this is wholly not true. While mad scientists Doctor Doom, The Nutty Professor, and Wayne Szalinski cast a dark shadow on the community, many more work tirelessly to produce items we take for granted. Without mad science the world would not have things such as dildos, the internet, or canned air (seriously, how to the get that shit in there?). This very day, the few mad scientist that still remain are working on life changing invention like the shrink ray, the ultimate nullifier, invisibility lotions for ugly lovers, and the internet 2.

So next time you look down on those in the mad science community, stop and think for a moment. Because in the end, aren't we just a little 'mad'?

-Professor Bryan 'Hacksaw' Roy

Creamed Jeans

Thanks to Pat for this gem. More on this later, but for now I couldn't help but post this pic. Consider this nerd stoked!

Lesbians vs Bryan Roy: Take 1

This will be the first of many entries I write about women who like other women (as more then just friends). Why you ask? Well, like most men out there I am fascinated by a woman who will deny me not because of my hideous looks or lukewarm personality, but because she just plain out doesn't like penis. So this idea I've been kicking around for a while, and I'll admit some times I may sound like a bit of an asshole but a) this is science and b) I am an asshole. So if your offended by me talking about lesbians, then whatever.

So as I sat in class today I was thinking about boobs. Really a nice set of hooters is a good thing to think about, much like a walk-off home run or a real lightsaber (time out, my hands feel dirty, nothing to do with this blog or the internet, they just feel dirty and need to be washed. alright sorry about that OCD interlude). So boobs right? Nice. Well what do lesbians think about boobs? Are they like guys? Do they really like boobs? Or is their love of women strictly... emotional? For some reason I have a hard time seeing a group of lesbians talking about how nice a chick's rack is. I mean, this is something dudes do all the time. In fact, 90% of dude's conversations are based around the mammary gland. Thats true shit, Google that shit. But dudes also like baseball, watching people kick the shit out of each other, and battles. Lesbians... not so much.

In conclusi
on, I have come up with the following equation:
if, Dudes like Boobs
and, Dikes like different things then Dudes
then, Dikes do not like boobs.

I know this goes against everything that porn has taught me, but let's face it, those aren't real lesbians anyway.



figure 1a: A Bull Dike in her natural habitat

Manchester Day 3 &4

Day 3: Drunk

Day 4: Christmas lights

Manchester Day 2: Thanksgiving

I'm a day behind in my day by day blog of home. Whatever, it's the internet I can do what I want.

So Thanksgiving is a great holiday, really spectacular stuff. However, it isn't without its shit stains. SO, I give you the pros and cons of Thanksgiving:

PROS:
-Food: This is something that great increases in value the second you leave for college. No matter what, Thanksgiving will always be a massive bright spot for your taste buds that have been drenched by beer and easy mac for the past few months.

-Football: Football? On a Thursday? Yes please!

-Family: Its good to see some family sometimes. Some of them have some valuable things to say.

CONS:
-Family: But many of them have garbage things to say. I swear some of my relatives say things just to sound really ignorant. Here are a few examples. After I mentioned the writers strike I received the following comments. "They just want a vacation". Of course uncle Einstein, because writers are making so much fucking cash that they can just stop working. "No one really cares about TV anyway, I can always watch reruns.". Thanks aunt. Call me when Gilligan's Island gets old. I went on to explain why the writers were striking. Like usual they just smiled at me with that "Oh, how cute, the youngest in the family has an opinion" look. Fuck. I'm 20 years old dammit, but to them I'm perpetually 12. Then there was some other shit about how global warming is a hoax and how California should be banned from the union for being 'treehuggers'. I bit my tongue knowing that unleashing knowledge on these poor souls could possibly harm them.

-Football: Cowboys? Lions?... weak

-Food: Naw, just kidding. Shit is delicious!

So there you have it. Just one of the many holidays we celebrate over something that didn't happen in the first place (also Christmas, Easter, and Columbus Day).

Manchester: Day 1

Back home in Manchester aka the Queen City (like royal queen not fag queen). I felt a day by day blog on this little break from the bright light of East Cambridge would be appropriate. So, here goes:

Got home. Cats stared at me. Crappy one walked away, cool one chilled. Cool Cat and I made a sandwich. I discovered a note from my mom telling me about soup in the refrigerator. Cool Cat and I had some soup. Found another note from my mom about visiting her and my other high school teachers today at Memorial. Cool Cat and I decided to fall asleep on the couch watching English League Soccer (Liverpool v Fulham) instead.

Woke up and decided to go to Double Midnight. I got into the car started to drive away and discovered two things:
1) The windshield was covered in snow, a substance I had forgotten about.
2) One of the tires sounded flat.
I pulled over next to a new no parking sign in my neighborhood (seriously, a no parking sign, its a fucking neighborhood), and wiped off the snow and checked the tires. All was good.

Picked up some Invincible and Walking Dead. Said hey to the nerds. Went back home to miss the ending of the Soccer match... blast. My mom got home from work around this time. We went to the mall and I got new shoes. The mall really gets my goat sometimes. Some really dumb people there. Then there's the jail bait floozies who strut around, make me feel like Chris Hansen is waiting around the corner ready to pop out with my chatlogs (why don't you have a seat). I see high school kids that I can't recognize and I realize I've been phased out of the ecosphere of Manchester. This kind of makes me happy. Also makes me realize how stupid Manchester looks on the grand scale of things. But that's what I like about this place.

My friends who were 21 went to the bahs tonight. Lame.


Thanksgiving tomorrow. Tasty shit.

A Beaner Wakeup

I woke up three times today.

1) Woke up at 845 for class. Sick. Rain. Wasn't going.
2) Woke up at 1045 for second class. Sick. Rain. I'll pass

So after two epic failures to launch I was sitting pretty cruising on the laze track to Thanksgiving Break. In fact, I guess I'm on break as of right now. w00t. Around 100pm I was awoken by the following.

*knock knock*

...Fuck I hope Matt gets it...

*KNOCK KNOCK*

...seriously Matt... you're room is closer to the door...

*KNOCK KNOCK RASP KNOCK CLANG*

"Ello? Alpha Management?"

...shit... maybe they'll give up....

*jingle, key in door, door opening*

...damn...

*clap clap clap*

"Ello?"

...great a random Mexican is wandering around my place...



So I awoke to find said Mexican man wandering around the basement. Its sweet that random people have keys to our place. Conversation was rough. I was half awake, and he was Spanish. Where was Hyde... After a series of hand gestures and failed conversations, the man started cleaning the rugs! Success! Had I not been such a lazy ass, no one would have been here to initiate said carpet cleaning! Laziness FTW!

The Hangover Scale

As mentioned in an earlier post, I classify hangovers on a scale. This scale is completely scientific and takes into account years of research and thousands of beers. So without further ado, I present to you The Hangover Scale:

Category 1: Pussy shit. I imagine this is the kind of hangover girls get, then complain. To most prolific drinkers, this might not even appear to be a hangover. Possibly a mild headache and dry mouth are possible symptoms. If someone tells you they have a category 1 HO, then they have a vagina, hands down.

Category 2: Not quite baby shit. This is when you wake up and go straight to the shitter to take a massive dump. Solid dump here, nothing messy. After said satisfying beer poop, a headache my linger. After sufficient water and eggs, these symptoms should dissipate. Typical after a solid night of drinking. If anyone complains about having a category 2 HO, then they just have a small dick.

Category 3: Being in the middle of the scale, this is neither excruciating nor an easy ordeal. Headache is borderline severe, and lingers. The solid poops of the cat 2 are gone and are replaced by their ugly half-cousin, the spin art poop. This is the kind of poop that sneaks up on your guts, grabs them, and steers you to the nearest poop receptacle. This is NOT a satisfying event. Once said demon has been expelled, water should be consumed. Slight nausea may also accompany the headache. Cat 3 HOs, are excusable to complain about, but only if you have no external genitalia.

Category 4: This is when shit starts to get real. Nausea, headache, regret. All classic symptoms of a cat 4. This is when your body starts to revolt on you.

Category 5: This is the big one. The mack daddy. Upon waking up you immediatly ponder death. This is when you think you may have done permenant damage to your body. Symptoms include nausea, vomtting, headache, sensitivity to light, noise, and movement. Likely causes are vodka tequila, or Ecuadorian sugar cane rum. Cat 5 makes you swear to never drink again.

Diagnosis Doctor? Looks like a case of the Mondays.....

Our apartment smells. I thought I caught a whiff of something putrid this morning, but after Pat's nose turned up nothing, I figured I was catching some phantom smells. But alas, when I returned from class I was greeted by a wave of stench. Using my keen detective skills I am diagnosing the source of the odor as the basement. Who would of thought that when your toilet overflows, the resulting water will smell? Sucks for us, sucks more for Pat. Focusing first haduken of rage at Alpha Management. If they had fixed our porcelain throne two months ago when we first called, our dwelling wouldn't reek of foot and peepee.

Next haduken of rage is aimed at Emerson College. I wake up a whole five minutes early to register for classes today only to find that the system won't let me. I send a steaming e-mail (like shit steaming not sexy steaming) to the registrar office and peace to class. When I return I have a message saying their bad and that everything should be cool now. Sweet, thanks Emerson. But wait, now one of the classes I wanted was full. Fuck you Emerson. I go to sign up for writing the prime time drama (sweet), and wtf its for writing majors only? Same with writing comedy for tv? and the feature workshop? The hell? I can take basic tv writing and feature writing, but I can't take the next step? So, off goes another steamshot to Emerson courtesy of bryan_roy@emerson.edu. Fuck them...

Haduken the third is targeted at the cold. Not the temperature, the virus. Its shit. Seriously one of the most annoying things on the planet, rivaling the internet not working and the MBTA (an entry for a later date). Also a lesser haduken, possibly a Dragon Punch, towards Pat for bringing said virus into the house.

Alas, every shitty Monday has to be spawned from a Sunday, and today was no exception. Sunday meant a New England sports day, with the Revolution (soccer?) and the Pats both playing some ball. Truely a day for Mr. Kraft. I was too hung-over (class 5 hangover more on this at a later date) to catch the revs game. Whatever, a) its American soccer (see: garbage) and b) they lost. What a bunch of fucking tools. Can't they like channel the winning spirit of New England and just anihilate their opponents? Couldn't Bob Kraft have convinced Tom Brady to play? I mean he's good at everything (football, fucking chicks and not sticking around for the kid and not having said chick mind, cleft chins) he must be good at soccer. Plus, not like the Pats needed a full strength Brady for their game later that night.

Moving on to the Pats game... wow. It was like watching someone play Madden against their girlfriend. Fourth and one... up by 30... I'll go for it, bitch doesn't know what she's doing anyway. I could see the look in the Bills eyes, the same look as someone who is getting plastered in Madden. I swear I saw Losman mouth that using Moss was cheating. Part of me misses watching the Pats come through in the clutch, the larger part of me loves watching the madness of Coach Bill in full effect. Belichick reminds of Dr. Doom these days. Instead of Reed Richards fucking up Doom's experiment and scaring his face, the NFL called Bill a cheater. Now Belichick is unleashing his full force against the Fantastic Four that is the NFL. That switch in Belichick's brain that kept him from doing crazy things snapped off after spygate. Now his rage is running free. All must bow before Doom!

A Book Review

I started reading this Bible book today. It sucked, I couldn't get past the first chapter. Don't read this author's books

"Oh man what a great day, just truckin alon- HOLY SHIT! Look at that! Its a whole god damn grasshopper, just sitting here! Man I gotta tell the boys about this! Man this makes my life worth living. Wait, why the hell does my head hurt so much? Damn what a headache! What the fuck? Shit I think I'm dying... NO! Must... get... back... to.... colony! Fuck my brain!........................"

-The ant from Planet Earth who had a parasite grow out his brain, a true hero.