Deep Thoughts By Kris Bryan

First things first: Due to the release of "Magic Mike" nationwide, I will be avoiding movie theaters at all costs for the next month because I do not like the scent of moist tuna.

Second things second: My Fitness Consigliere Michelle told me there were rumblings that the Colorado wildfires were possibly a terrorist plot.  Unless said terrorizers have been actively increasing the pine beetle population to an epidemic level in the Rocky Mountains for the past few decades, magically begun controlling weather patterns, manifested record setting heat with some kind of Ancient Jihadi Mind Meld, and have nothing but contempt for Colorado's world famous micro brews, I consider this theory officially debunked.

Here are a few terrorists plots that seem way more feasible to me.

-Parkour Guys Are Really State-Side Insurgents: Hello, have you ever seen a Taliban training camp photograph?  The obstacle courses look very similar to parkour urban obstacles, maybe a little too similar.  I'll let you be the judge.

-The Pussification Of Young American Males:  The United State's next generation of possible freedom fighters is on track to be the biggest bunch of wimp-bitches in our country's rich history.  I've never seen so many sickly, whiney Fem-Bots in my 32 years on Planet Earth. I blame it on three factors:
    
     1. Organic Food: The OBL a.k.a. Organic Buyers Lobby (weird, OBL also is the initials of Osama bin Laden... coincidence?) not only funds terrorist organizations but is actively killing off childrens' immune systems and antibodies one gluten free organic kale and kumquat wrap at a time.  From my experience as a healthy grown-up, I conclude that kids need exposure to germs, processed foods, mud pies/sandwiches, MSG, pesticides, corn syrup, salmonella, Hepatitis A thru C, etc. in order to properly man the fuck up.  Remember moms and dads, every time you buy a box of whole-grain certified organic Froot Loops, the terrorists win.

     2.  Skinny Jeans:  Young Men buying jeans in the "Young Miss" section of Mervyn's is the leading cause of Gender Dysphoria.  This trend ultimately will lead to our country not being able to protect itself from enemies foreign and domestic due to an extreme decline in military enlistments, as these hybrid Ladyboys won't want to get their fancy little vaginas all dirty.  Plus, those testie suffocating dungarees will lower the Ladyboy's sperm count to the point of "Breading Impossible" status.  At least Tom Cruise will have another "Impossible" movie to star in...

     3.  Justin Bieber and that Lady Gaga guy:  What a pair of Mary's.  I just want to get that out there.

Third things third: The televised US Olympic Trials have been awesome, and while I like the current roster of events, I feel these additions would be beneficial to the Games.  Here's my top ten new events:

US Synchronised Sissy Kicking Team

10. Freestyle Bitching and Moaning
9. Water Polio
8. Hippie Darts
7. Elderly Rascal Scooter Bumper Cars
6. Shot Put. With Babies.
5. Ping Pong. Again, With Babies.
4. Spousal Crop Dusting
3. White Trash Mumble Translating
2. Synchronized Sissy Kicking
1. Skeet Skeet Skeet Shooting

Fourth things fourth:  Enough with the fucking eCards on social networking sites.  We get it.  You're not Jerry Sienfeld and aren't clever enough to come up with your own wacky observations of everyday life.  Just know that every time you post an eCard, your greasy granny catches VD.

Song stuck in my head while writing this:


With that, I'm finished.  I've been out in the sun and 100 degree weather for almost two straight hours and am totally heat stroking right now.  That's what she said.  Kris Bryan Is Nuts.

An Update Concerning the Tooth Fairy's Downward Spiral

A few days ago, I wrote on Facebook that I woke up with some mystery cake by my side.  Here was the exact post in case you didn't see it:

"I woke up this morning hugging a piece of cake. I have no idea how it got there, so I hypothesize this is what happened:

In order to keep up with her ever growing addiction to mainlining tooth enamel, the Tooth Fairy was trying to speed up the tooth harvesting process by delivering tooth-rotting sweets during the night.

Little does the Tooth Fairy know that I use Crest, the ultimate defense against the Cavity Creeps. Bitch."

Toothina Tooth, circa 1986

Well, apparently my hypothesis was spot on and once word spread globally, the Expedited Tooth Loss Market dried up, and the Tooth Fairy was cut off from her main source of enamel-based smack.  Desperate for her next fix, she concocted a plan to start a business similar to the "Cash 4 Gold" enterprises.  Here's a quick sketch I made as I drove past her yesterday.  As you can tell, she has completely let herself go... Since she's cash deprived, I suppose this was the best thing she could think of for potential customer compensation:

That's just fucking embarrassing, sad, and as hard to look at as Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercials.  The Fairy we knew and loved for decades is completely wrecked.  As tempting as it may be, I urge you to not take her up on her offer for your molars.  Lets unite as one, help the TF when she bottoms out, and with a little luck she'll get off the 'Namel.  Yes we can!

Song stuck in my head while writing this:





My next blog is going to be a massive post about all my friends and family... Stay tuned for that and see if I immortalized you in the form of prose...  Smell ya later; Kris Bryan Is Nuts.

The Adventures of Captain Beardo

Beards: Fully badass, or completely assbad?

A month and a half ago, I decided that in an effort to further support a friend during her pregnancy I'd grow what I coined a "Sympathy Beard."  I figured that since she was so uncomfortable, I would also be uncomfortable... follicly.  If you didn't know, [in their infancy] beards are uncomfortably itchy, they keep you awake all night by poking your face relentlessly whenever you adjust your sleepy head, and they give your face the appearance of being puffier than usual. To me, those ailments sounded like metaphorical gold; sure to be greeted with nothing but praise.

Upon walking through her front door, I proudly explained my symbolic gesture of sympathetic unity, and was promptly put in my place.  You could say that I got thoroughly lambasted with the force of a thousand pregnant women.  To put it politely, she dismissed my "Sympathy Beard" as anything that even came close to the pain of having a tiny person feng shui your guts every three to five minutes.

Still, I valiantly continued to grow my majestic beard hair amongst all the nay saying.  At the time, I was completely naive to the ramifications a beardy growth would have on present-day Kris Bryan, both positively and negatively.  Good or bad though, this guy has been changed forever.

Positive Changes:

1. I never get carded anymore in situations when age verification is required.  I like to believe it's because I look more distinguished and gentlemanly, where in reality I probably don't get carded by an Age Verifying Professional because in their mind they've decided I've totally let myself go, a tell-tale sign of being an old shithead.

2. When thinking about something, I get to utilize the "Deep Thinking Beard Maneuver."  For the unbearded, that's when you put your thumb and index finger on opposite cheeks and slowly stroke downwards until said fingers meet at the bottom center of your chin.  I've noticed that the more times I repeat this maneuver during a group pondering session, the more my friends assume I'm getting deeper and deeper into thought; giving the illusion that I'm a professor from some higher education learning house or something.  Checkmate.

3. It has afforded my Brother-In-Law (a fellow Beard Face) and I to ditch all forms of conventional, vanilla, hand-based greetings and create a next level, cutting edge "Beard Shake."  To properly pull off a textbook "Beard Shake," follow these quick and easy steps:
     a. Find another bearded companion and stand uncomfortably close, face to face, slightly askew.
     b. In one fluid motion, position your heads cheek to cheek creating a "Beard Bond."
     c. In unison, move your heads back and forth against each other, repeating as many times as possible until the awkwardness of the situation ends the "Beard Shake."
     d. Carry on with your day.

4. I get to feel like I'm in an extremely exclusive facial hair secret society I imagine is named "The Fraternal Order Of The Beard".  Every time I see another beardo in my general vicinity, they either give me a bro head nod, the dual pistol fingers and mouth the word "Shoota!", or a wink that says "Hey, we both have beards... we throw caution to the wind."  In lieu of this, I decided to create a new, sleek, modern gesture that I could flash triumphantly.  All I do is perform the aforementioned "Deep Thinking Beard Maneuver"... with a twist.  After stroking my cheeks and start heading towards the southern region of my face, instead of having my digits meet at the middle of my chin, I switch it up by locking my thumb into my dimple and sweeping my index finger all the way back into my balled up fist, creating a thumbs up!  So intuitive, so profoundly genius.

5. I automatically join the ranks of other famously bearded all-stars like Santa Claus, Billy "OxiClean" Mays, Ernest Hemingway, Teen Wolf, Chuck Norris, Papa Smurf, Confucius, ZZ Top, Post-Presidential-Campaign Al Gore, Jesus, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and "Macho Man" Randy Savage.  OH YEEEEAH!

6. I get to create new nicknames for me and my beard face!  Here's my top 10 thus far:

10) Red Beard's Delight

9) The Cro Magnon Manscape
8) Ulysses S. Grant Jr.
7) Beard Al Yankovich
6) The Lorax
5) Al Qaeda Camouflage
4) Helen Keller Facial Recognition Device
3) ManBeardPig
2) Facial Hair-iet Tubman
1) The Jessica Tandy

As good as that sounds, there are some drawbacks to me being a Beard Face.  In no particular order, here are some negatives:

-Direct sunlight on my beard can create an undesired gingerish luster.

-When I eat corn on the cob, my face looks like a Civil War battlefield, if the Civil War was fought by corn in lil' suits.

-For some reason the portion of beard around my mouth hole is blond. It looks like I have been giving CPR to a dairy cow's teat, lacking any mouth-to-udder suckling training, resulting in a milk mouthstache. Because of this, I now have an irrational fear of going to dairy confiscation compounds, as I'm sure I'd hear an employee say "I remember my first teat suckling..." when they saw me and the white mouth area of my beard sauntering off their property.

-I have really dark facial hair and naturally light blond cranial hair so if I'm not wearing a hat, it looks like I purposely frost my tips, which I'm sure gives the impression that I'm a huge Guy Fieri Superfan. That's some weak shit.

-It's a construction debris magnet.  Asking your Best Friend to Shop-Vac your face after a long day on the job site doing Pre-Savior Jesus work is not only the most ridiculous request to just throw out there, but could lead to a series of Liam Neeson throat punches for even asking.

-The beard face leads to seedy, shifty-eyed glances laced with panic from uptight suburbanized white folks when boarding an airplane.

-Accidentally being mistaken for a Tazo Tea sipping, skinny jeans wearing, non-prescription thick-rimmed glasses sporting, indie music rocking, summertime beanie reppin' Hipster cock bag is the worst feeling ever.


-It's a requirement to wear beard nets when working with/serving food.  What "The Man" doesn't realize is that those damned facial hair nets have set proud, independent, strong, brawny Beard Faces back 12 years, when Metrosexuals were the cock of the walk and androgyny was king.  Prepare for the rise of Crab People, America. Assholes.

At any rate, even if the bad cancels out the good, I'm going to continue to grow this shining beacon of shaving freedom and see where it takes me.  What can I say?  I've become attached to it.  Ba-Zing!

Song stuck in my head while writing this:

Adios.  Kris Bryan Is Nuts.

Introducing: The Habitual Line Stepper

***A QUICK WARNING BEFORE WE KICK THIS OFF***

I have a habit of not acknowledging where the line exists between acceptable conversation topics and going too far when I rattle off my thoughts with wreckless abandon. DO NOT read this blog if you're a little kid, easily offended, stupid, or say Italian like EYE-talian. That shit pisses me off.  Other than that, sit back, relax, and and prepare to think to yourself "What the fuck? Kris Bryan is nuts."

Logophiles: The Black Eye on the Scripps Family Empire



This morning when I woke up, I thought to myself "Self, you need to learn a new word." Upon agreement with my inner monologue's idea, I vigorously swiped my finger across my phone's touch screen keyboard until my autocorrect kicked in and made a word. As fate would have it, my word to learn was 'Logophiles'.

After dedicating myself to researching the meaning of the word "Logophiles" for a full 45 seconds, I found this:


Main Entry: Logophile

Definition: A word lover

Etymology: [Greek] Logos 'speech' + -Phile 'friend, lover'


Immediately after reading the definition, I thought "Is that supposed to be taken literally? Really... A Word Lover? Is a Logophile someone that love loves words, like in a biblical sense?" After further contemplation and a great deal of studying, my mind took it a step further and came to a conclusion that shook me to the core... ESPN's annual broadcast of the Scripps National Spelling Bee Finals must totally be like porn for Logophiles. I shall explain my findings:

First off, as hard as it is to believe, I'm not a perv and don't watch adult movies (exploiting oneself carnally in an effort to afford baby formula and/or blow is not hot), but know enough about the cliché plot lines that I was able to invision that in the mind of a Logophile, this is what goes down when they watch The Bee:

When the judge announces/defines a word, that's kinda like the part of the movie where the Pizza Dude arrives. Then, when the judge reveals the word's country of origin, a Logophilic sees that like the striptease scene since the layers of the word's mystery slowly peel themselves away, revealing the root words that are hiding underneath. At this point, the action progresses rapidly when the judge exposes the word's etymology, the metaphorical full-frontal heavy petting to Logophiles. Proceeding this, it's business time as the contestant's attempt at spelling the word begins and lasts for about two sweaty minutes of deep and hard concentration.  At the climax of their turn, the contestant blows up with excitement if they came correctly and don't hear the sound of bells reverberating off of the walls behind the stage.  Actually, silence is not the desired end result if you find yourself in the postion of putting your poking sessions on film, but I digress...

As a personal rule of thumb, I always try to respect other people's quirks and do my best not to judge, but sorry Logophiles; when a Spelling Bee judge announces alternate pronunciations for a word, it does nothing for me in the groinal region.  As a public service I'd like to share three warning signs that you or someone you know may be a Logophile:

1. You're a Serial Cereal Fucker:
No matter how many times your starving loved ones beg, you cannot stop yourself from humping away at the family's entire weekly ration of Cheerios. What your family sees as whole grain circular O's meant for nourishment, you see as Evil Temptresses of the Night that purposely float side by side, seductively spelling "OOO! OOO! OOO!" until their sultry, moaning siren song has you once again under it's spell; steady pumping your breakfast cereal bowl, Cheerios rhythmically flying everywhere, ruining breakfast with your Grandparents.

2. You're the child of former Scripps Spelling Bee Champions:

An official study conducted by me a minute ago shows that children of parents who had once tasted the sweet nectar of Spelling Bee fame and are now three decades older, washed up, and unable to land even the smallest double word score in a game of Scrabble, are 98% likely to adopt a Logophilic lifestyle; doomed to live a life of alphabet fetishes and ultimate shame.  It's a scientific fact.

3. You have deep seeded Dictionary Issues: 
At one point in a potential Logophiles life, they have been victimized mentally and/or physically at the hands of a deadbeat dictionary.  Ask yourself this:  Did your dictionary leave home for a gallon of milk and never come back? Did it burn you with cigarettes in a jealous rage when it caught you reading an encyclopedia? Yes to any/all of the above? Then it's time to get some help and heal the paper cuts on your soul.

At any rate, that's where my mind has been for the last six hours. I don't know why my thoughts unfold like that, but you're welcome for the glimpse into my brain. I hope you understand a little better why I'm a crazy person.


Song stuck in my head while writing this:




Yep, Christmas music in June.  Kris Bryan Is Nuts.