Monday Morning Podcast - Monday Morning Podcast 3-19-12

Episode Date: March 19, 2012

Posted in PodcastPlay AudioBill rambles about jolly people, jerking off in public and college basketball.

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This is a broadcast from Monday, March 19th, 2012. In like a lamb, I'm like a lion. Um, it's fucking cold out. Here in Los Angeles, if you're wondering about the weather report yesterday. Um, cold does not bug me. Unless I'm in Los Angeles, then it bugs me. You know, if I'm in Cleveland, if I'm in Boston, if I'm in New York, if I'm in Philly. I don't give a fuck if it's cold.

I'll put on a pocket, right? But when I'm out here in LA, it really bothers me. There's just something annoying about being cold while looking at a palm tree. It just fucking bugs the shit out of me. It just doesn't make any sense, you know? It's like seeing a skinny Santa Claus. It's like, what are you doing? I thought you were supposed to be a tub of shit. How can you be jolly if you're in shape?

Have you ever met a jolly skinny person? You know, there's a certain level of being fat where you just find, you just, I don't know. I don't know if you're just psyched because you're eating cookies and you don't give a shit, but you can still tie your shoes. Like that's that level of fat you want to be at where you're eating pizza and you're eating cookies. And yeah, you're fat, but you know, you put on a sweater and you go, oh, you got rosy cheeks and nobody cares. Nobody's looking at you. Nobody's judging you. And then when you go beyond it, when you go beyond it is when your stomach comes out from underneath that sweater

and everybody can see it, you know, but you can't see it, right? Because you're so fat. And even when the wind blows, you don't notice it because you're all warm with all that blubber. You know, there's a fucking, I don't know, there's a sweet spot of being fat where it, when no one's making fun of you being fat and you're eating all shit food, but nobody's trashing you. So I guess that that's what makes you jolly. You know, oh, I get to eat all this shit food and nobody's judging me.

Then once you go beyond it, then you start fucking crying. You know, I'm one of those reality shows. I don't know what I'm talking about. I don't even want to be doing this podcast right now. I'm not even lying. I'm not even gonna lie to you. I can't even spit it out. I'm fucking exhausted, but I got a bunch of shit to do tomorrow, which is today by the time you're listening to it.

You know, I really don't feel like doing this shit, so it's going to be quick. I'm getting right to the fucking point. All right. I already solved why certain levels of fat people are jolly. You know, right there, if you guys weren't so selfish, that could take up your whole fucking week. You know, but not you guys. Oh, keep it coming. You like how I'm blaming you guys for this thing that I started?

I just realized I haven't even looked at a half of this fucking crap here. So what happened this week? Bill, what'd you do this week? Willie, I, um, I didn't do any fucking stand. I think maybe I did stand up this week. I'm on vacation people. I'm still on vacation. Still on vacation.

You guys sit there and you work putting in an honest day work, making somebody else's dream come true. And that dream evidently was to stick everybody in these little fucking cubicles. Everything, what a fire hazard a cubicle is. What if there's a fire in your little doorway? You know, there's no other way to get out. What are you going to do? Shouldn't there be another doorway to the cubicle next to you? Do you have a little ladder on the front of it where you climb up and over your terminal?

Why are you still sitting in that fucking thing surrounded by plastic? They can't give you anything. How about like, can they make your mouse made out of like wood or maybe some sort of precious metal to somehow act like they give a fuck about you on any level? Do you know I have a, uh, I live in this old house now. This old house is fucking old. This old house has old wiring. This old house has fucked up plumbing. And Billy's got to pay for it.

This old house has got a little garage. And I got a big fat truck and every time I back it in, I start saying goddamn and fuck. I can't fucking get it in the garage. So you know what I did the other day? I said, hey, hey, who knows how to make garage doors wider? And I found somebody. I found somebody on makemygaragedoorswider.com and the person came over and they made my garage doors wider. And I backed my fucking truck in there.

You know, fucking like butter. So you guys don't have to listen to me bitch about that again. So now I'm sitting there going, this is fucking great. You know, I can put my truck in there. I don't have to worry about it. You know, and there's no problems. So what do I do? I fucking jump in the Prius the other day, you know, the ying and the yank.

I got the gas guzzler and I got the, oh my God, that's like a tree kind of car. So I'm going to go down and watch some final four fucking action or whatever. March madness, whatever you call it. And, uh, you know, as you guys know, I'm not a big fan of basketball. I love the first 97% of it. It's that last 3% with the 58 timeouts and the fouls and the commercials. You know, I watched the game today. It was one of the worst sporting experiences I've ever had.

I watched St. Louis, uh, the St. Louis fairies or something like that. There was some sort of, uh, the gremlins versus the, the Michigan state spot. Okay. 20 minutes, first half, 20 minutes, second half. Okay. The first, I don't know, 38 minutes of the game or not even 37 minutes of the game. I don't know. It took, it seemed like it took 90 minutes to play. It's flying. And I'm like, this is why I love college basketball as opposed to the excruciating 48 minutes of NBA hoop. And then what happens to final fucking three minutes?

I swear to God, it took 50 minutes to play. Jesus Christ, they're up by seven. It's over. Foul, foul, foul. That took 0.8 seconds off the clock goes to the line for a one and one. Fucking guy misses the ball. He throws it down. Foul! Fucking fouls another guy, right? Timeout, timeout!

Fucking, I had my shoes on. I'm trying to leave because I got to give my buddy a ride because I got shit to do, but we want to see the end of the fucking game. And I swear to God, the final 45 seconds, it took like six minutes to play 45 seconds. And I know every once in a while, somebody can hit that big shot and everybody goes, oh shit, in a Buffalo Wild Wings, right? And then your slutty waitress comes over with a ref shirt tied off, you know, just under the titties, cleavage showing.

Hey guys, how are you? You want some more wings? Did we win? Yay! Stick the legal tender in my orifice please, right? I know every once in a while you have one of those things, right? But you know what, 99% of the time in basketball, that doesn't happen. And you're just sitting there letting six minutes of your life go by to watch 45 seconds of action. You know, I don't know. So anyway, so I go to a buddy's house, a buddy's house, a buddy of mine's house, there we go.

It was actually an apartment. Why do you have to exaggerate, Bill? You know, why are you trying to enhance your life? And I go fuck yourself. Alright, so I drive over to his apartment, right? And he lives in this part of the city where there's no fucking parking. And I'm really trying not to lose my shit. I'm trying to control my temper. Because I don't want to be this guy. I really don't.

I'd like to be jolly. I like to eat some pizzas, some cookies and have my stomach hanging underneath my sweater and nobody gives me shit about it, right? Oh, oh, oh. So, whatever. So I get my fucking Prius and I drive down the road and I can't find the parking, so I say fuck it. You know, I'm going to park at a meter. So I park at the meter and I reach into my little fucking console to get out my little baggie of quarters.

And I forgot they're not there because that cunt broke my fucking window in my driveway, broke the window in my fucking car and stole the bag of quarters. At least I got this douche, right? And then I have to pay for the fucking window. So I pull up to the meter and I don't have a goddamn, I don't have any quarters. I don't have any quarters. So I go, I, evidently, I have to use my credit card, something I don't like doing. I don't like using my credit card on, you know, in a parking meter, on a parking meter.

I don't like doing that because there's a record that I was there. Okay, now I stick that thing in and that takes a lot of stuff off the table for me. Okay, I can't like get into a fight with somebody and he pulls a knife, we wrestle for it and he falls on it and dies. But I have no connection to him and, you know, and I can't just fucking leave without getting caught, right? I can't call somebody a cunt. I mean, I can do all that stuff, but there's that, the paper trail. He was there. No, I wasn't. Yes, you were. We got your credit card. Well, I didn't call her a cunt. Why'd you lie about being there?

All right, listen, am I being charged with anything? Because if I am, I want a lawyer. If not, I'm fucking leaving. All right, remember that first 48. That's what you say. So anyways, so I got to use the fucking credit card. So I use a credit card. All right, all I can get is two hours of time. There's an hour and something on the meter, so I'm trying to pay for 20 minutes. It's all fucking confusing. I gave them two hours of time for 20 minutes. So I go and I walk in this guy's fucking apartment.

I watch the goddamn game, right? I'm thinking two hours is going to be enough. Time out, time out, file, file, file, file, time out all that fucking bullshit, right? By the time I figure out what's going on. It's three and a half hours later and I'm like, God, Jesus Christ, you're an idiot, Bill. You forgot you've parked at a fucking meter. You're going to have a ticket, right? And I come walking down the street and I'm walking up to my car.

What do I see? The fucking meter maid who's a guy pulls up. I still call them meter maids, even if it's a guy, you know, what kind of a fucking man does that job? I don't give a shit if it is a recession. Go break into somebody's Prius. Be a man about it, right? I see the fucking meter maid, man, pulls up right as I'm there and I'm laughing my ass off going, you got to be fucking kidding me. I got away with it and I jump in my Prius and I drive away laughing my ass off.

Call up my buddy, yeah, he wouldn't believe it. I got there right as a fucking blah, blah, blah. Yeah, you had to be there, right? I'm all thinking this is the fucking greatest story ever. All right, put my car in the fucking driveway. I don't know what I did after that. Came inside at a couple of whiskeys and I yelled at everyone in the house that I love. You know, typical evening for me.

So the next morning I wake up and I look at the side of my car and evidently somebody had hit my fucking car. I'm driving away last night, you know. I'm driving away thinking, oh, look at me, I got away from the fucking meter maid and somebody caved in the entire side of my fucking car. You know, I don't know what it is about my Prius. It's just fucking every fucking three days somebody smashes into it. I just can't keep the dents out of it.

You know, I'm not one of these douchebags who gets a fucking car and when something breaks you just say fuck it and you leave it that way. The next thing you know you look like Lamont driving over to Fred Sanford's house. I'm not going out like that. Even if it is a Prius, I'm keeping it nice. All right, I get the fucking thing detailed. I don't give a shit. I get the fucking interior shampooed.

I keep it nice. Not riving around some, you know, it's already bad enough. I'm just riding around on something that has bicycle tires on top of that. I'm going to have fucking dents in it. All right, I got an image here, people. I'm trying to keep up. Christ, I'm so fucking tired right now. I don't want to do this goddamn play.

I didn't know what the fuck I'm talking. What am I talking about? Did I tell you guys I saw Sandra Bernhardt this weekend? I didn't do any stand-up. I went down and with Nia and her mom, we went down and we saw Sandra Bernhardt down at the La Jolla Playhouse or something like that. And she was fucking awesome. Goddamn rock star.

You know, it's kind of a cabaret thing where she would sing songs and that type of stuff, you know? And I think I was the only straight guy there under the age of 45. But I loved it. I actually wish that she would do more stand-up. She was fucking hilarious. And I don't know, she was just, I don't know, that perfect kind of just not giving a fuck. Just an absolute beast.

I've always been a huge fan of hers. And so if you get a chance to see her, I definitely fucking recommend it. What the fuck was she going on? She went off on, she did like fucking 10 minutes on Gwyneth Paltrow, just trashing her. It's phenomenal. And all her shit about, you know, watching TV and making fun of Cindy Crawford's stupid Cindy Serum, all that shit. It was a phenomenal night. I actually got to sit and watch somebody else do stand-up for once.

You know, stood in line, bought a DVD for Nia, right? And then stick out my hand. Ah, I'm a comedian too. Right? Did that, took a picture, you know? I had a little fanboy night. It was nice. Then some asshole asked to cave in the side of my fucking car.

Oh, Jesus, what the hell am I talking about? I don't know where I'm talking about anymore. You know, you know what? I think it's time for people. I think it's time for a fucking commercial. New this week, blow pops. Remember those things that the ice cream man used to sell those red, white and blue rockets? Teaches the girls how to suck dick nice, right?

Well, they're on sale, people. They're on sale this week. If they're an ice cream truck comes by, you just mention this podcast and you just yell out, hey, my sister's already sucking dick and they'll give you 10% off a blow pop. Right? Nah, what the fuck am I talking about? Sorry, I don't have the copy in front of me. What the hell is it?

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why wouldn't I have any of this? Oh, there it is, the advertising schedule here. What do we got? Stamps.com again? Do I really need to go through this again? Stamps.com, everybody? You know, you know the deal.

How would you like to have the post office in your own apartment? But Bill, I don't think it'll fit. Relax. I don't mean literally. Stamps.com, everybody. Have you ever been sitting around rubbing your balls at one in the morning going, God, I wish I could put a stamp on a letter. Well, with stamps.com, that dream is now a reality.

Okay, so why don't you call Oprah and start crying about it because your dreams have come true. All right. Look, no one wants to go down to the post office. It's a dangerous place to go. Okay, every six weeks, somebody's down there doing something crazy. Right. There's always some homeless guy, you know, holding the door for you as you walk in and then expects, you know, that you're going to pay him on the way out.

Like that's how life is. Like that's how quickly you get a return investment. You know, like I couldn't open that door myself. You filthy son of a bitch. Why do you want to deal with that? Forget about when you go in there and there's some old lady trying to mail her dentures to Cincinnati. You don't want to stand behind that.

How do I weigh it? It would be nice if you had a scale in your own apartment, a house, a dwelling, or even your cubicle. All you got to do people's go to stamps.com. You can buy and print official US postage on your own computer and you can print out those stamps. Everybody, what'd you think you were just going to stare at them on the screen? They got it all figured out.

All right. Stamps.com will also give you a digital scale to weigh your packages. You type in the zip code. It's very easy. I've been spending all my DVDs. It's, it's amazing. It is amazing right now. Stamps.com is a special offender for my listeners.

All 17 of them. If you use my last name, Burr, B, U, R, R, all capital letters, you get a no risk trial plus $110 bonus offer that includes a digital scale and $55 in free postage. Okay. I don't know what else you need. Go to stamps.com before you do anything else. Click on the microphone, the radio microphone at the top of the homepage. You type in Burr.

That's stamps.com. Everybody enter Burr. How is that? Was that a nice read? I think it was. I think there was just enough comedy in there while I got the information out too. Um, oh Jesus. So anyways, I live in this old ass house.

All right. And, uh, whoever lived here before, I don't think it's the people right before the people for them before them. This is a great old house. And the great thing about having an old house is they have these old fixtures, door handles, hinges, other handles, you know, wood covens, all that type of stuff that makes the thing unique. You know what the worst is?

Is when somebody lives in the house before you and they don't fucking appreciate it. And what they do is they take all those wonderful features. They take them out and they go down to Home Depot and they buy some plastic hunk of shit and use that as a goddamn door handle. Well, you know what? That's not how I roll. Am I really going to talk about brass door handles at this point? Is that how far the fucking podcast has come?

I got a fucking door handle. It's made out of brass and it has 90 years of schmutz on it. Okay. Fatty Arbuckle banged a whore up against it probably sometime in the early thirties. And that schmutz from that whore's twat is still on the door handle. Okay. And I went out and bought myself a little fucking kit and I'm trying to polish that thing today. And I realized how annoying it must have been to work for rich people back in the day.

We had to polish up their candelabras and their fucking spoons and their tea cups. Oh my God. I would fucking rub my balls on all their fucking forks and everything before I put them in the drawer. And there's no way these people didn't do that. There is nothing more annoying. And I know these people back in the day had no idea what an iPad was. You know, they had no idea what it would be like to have live streaming porn on some little fucking plastic box right on that table

where they could rub one out whenever they wanted to. I realized it was a simple time. You know, back in the day like an apple was a dessert. At least according to my research it was. Remember that back in the day you'd watch those Tom Sawyer movies and they'd be, Hey, whitewash my fence and I'll give you an apple. Boy, oh boy, a fucking apple. The kid couldn't believe it.

I don't understand. You figured then there was a whole bunch of apple trees all around. Why don't you go climb one up, you dumb fuck. You wouldn't have to paint the fence to really thought about it. But then again, he was an orphan. Wasn't Tom Sawyer an orphan? Or was it Huck Finn? I don't fucking know.

What am I talking about? Anyways, to be back in the day, just have to sit there and shine up all these fucking rich people's bullshit. You know, I bought this that you can't afford. Make it even shinier and you got to sit there doing that. You know, the same motion over and over again. The fucking, your knuckles swelling up, right? Just sitting there, you know, going,

I always want to, I always want to drive a stage coach and that dream just never happened for you. And there you are, your whole fucking life. You got to sit there and shine spoons, not wash them. You got to wash them and then you got to fucking shine them up. Let me tell you something. I fucked with this brass door handle for about 20 minutes and I was like, you know what?

Fuck this. No, I didn't. I went on YouTube and actually looked up how to shine a brass fucking door. So now I'm going down to the fucking hardware store tomorrow and I'm going to get some fucking low grade or high grade fucking SOS pad and I'm going to do that with a little toothbrush tomorrow. Shine this son of a bitch up. And somehow I feel like it's going to fill the void.

Oh God, can you guys feel me slowly going crazy? Well, if you can, I don't give a fuck. Hey, if you've been wondering, you know, I've realized that forever, I haven't even told you guys how to email me. It's bill at the mmpodcast.com. All right, bill at, that's the A with the circle around it, like Walt Disney drew it, right? Bill at the mmpodcast.com.

Okay, I said it three times. If you can't figure it out, go fuck yourself. I'm starting to say go fuck yourself because if you're trying to email me to tell me I gave you the wrong email, I'm not going to get it. You can either go there or go or go to billbird.com slash contact. And contact is spelt the American way. C-O-N-T-A-C-T. Okay, not the Hungarian way.

Is that a fucking moth? You goddamn cunts. I need a... Oh my god, motherfucker. Buy an old house that has such character. Hang on a second, I'm going to kill that fucking thing and risk losing all my PETA listeners. Hang on.

Fucking motherfucker. And... Where do you live, bitch? Yeah, that's it. That's what happened. That's how that ended. All right, I'm back. One less moth in the house.

Trying to eat my fucking sweaters. The mothballs work or that's like ice cubes in the drink of moths. Because I swear to God, I got mothballs all over the fucking place and these guys, I think they're throwing them in a highball glass as they fucking chow down my turtlenecks. I dress like Dick Cavett now. Did I tell you guys that? Anyways, the contact link at the top of billbird.com

is bill at themmpodcast.com or billbird.com slash contact. Send me an email, you know. Let me know you're listening. Do it, don't do it. Who gives a fuck? Do you even give a fuck at this point? I think a lot of my listeners right now are just sitting with their hands,

their head on their hand just staring off into space. And I got to be honest with you, that's exactly how I feel. I just don't have time to do this tomorrow morning, so I'm doing it right now. You know what I mean? It's kind of like when you're building a toy for your kid and you don't really want to do it. You know, you're just plowing through it.

You're not even thinking about the joy he's going to have. You're just trying to get to step eight where you can just finish this whole fucking thing. You know, last week I brought up the different types of cock blocks. Last week I brought up the announcer, that guy who can cock block you from across the room. Second he sees something, you know, happen in between. Hey, what's going on over here?

Look out for that guy. All right, that guy. You know, then you got to slowly slide your hand back down and thigh back from underneath the dress. You know, you just probably have a good time. So here's another type of cock block. Evidently this person named the 007s. This is the friend of the girl you're trying to hook up with

or who acts like she's indifferent and acts like she's indifferent about heading back to your... or what? The friend of the girl you're trying to hook up with who acts like she's indifferent about heading back to your place or staying at the party but is secretly texting 1,000 reasons to her friend

as to why they should get the fuck out of there. Oh, that's the worst. That's right. Why don't you just man up and say, I don't want to bang you. I'm leaving. So anyways, just because she's not getting any attention, she's always got some stupid passive aggressive look on her face as she's texting and going on about why they got to get to Mickey's because everyone's there.

Mikey's because everyone's there. Yeah, it's always, you know, is there anything worse? You know what's something... What do you think is worse? The guy, your buddy cock blocking you or the ugly friend of the hot girl, you know? Marissa, let's go. You know what I wish I did back in the day?

Because I always tried to ignore that person and just keep working on the other girl even though I wanted to tell the fucking ugly one to go fuck herself. It's always killed me that I never did because it never worked out. Once that girl's Marissa, I have to get out of here. Come on, let's go. Marissa, you've had too much to drink.

Like that one, like I just wished just one time. I just said, I'm sorry no one wants to fuck you. Sorry you're ugly. Work on your personality. Right? I might as well have done that because once that fucking goddamn... I don't know what, something big and hairy,

abominable snowman, bigfoot, I don't know what, if I was fucking not so sleepy I would have had something funny there. You know, once she starts fucking yelling, the Marissa girl's not gonna bang you. You know, I mean, she ain't just not gonna bang you. Or maybe you should just lean into Marissa and just be like, hey, let me ask you a question. Why do you hang out with such ugly women?

You know, what's your deal? What, are you insecure or something? No, you can't say what are you insecure. You gotta keep it about the other one. Do you have any good looking friends? Just something, just something so you can go down and swing it. I have no idea. Why am I excited about the baseball season start?

I haven't watched baseball since David Ortiz flunked some tests and I was like, you know what, fuck this. For some reason I'm excited about baseball. I don't know why that is. Well, Bill, we don't know either. Can you figure it out? Can you say something funny about it? Or are you just gonna just leave it out there?

All right, this guy wants money advice. Jesus Christ, there's no way I'm making an hour. This is 27 minutes in and I'm flailing. Absolutely flailing. Throw the damp towel. Which Rocky was that? Throw the damp towel. Throw the damp towel.

What one was that? That was the one where Apollo Creed got fucking killed by the Russian. I must break you, right? Those cheap bastards. Money advice. Bill, I'm an OTR truck driver. What the fuck is that? Off track.

Betting. What is that? OTR. I don't know what that is. All right, I'll take your word for it. I'm an OTR truck driver and have a problem with blowing fucking money like a politician. I have a wonderful fiance with a great head on her shoulders and she is great with money. Every time I see the bank statements, the balance is more and more.

So I know she's doing a bang up job with our finances. Well, let me tell you something, sir. You are one perceptive son of a bitch. He's seeing another bigger and I know that that must be a good thing. So what's the fucking problem you say? Well, like I said, I'm terrible with money. So I got one of them. I got one of them prepaid debit cards.

He literally wrote one of them. I like this guy. He talks like Elvis. And every Tuesday, payday, my girl puts $50 on there so I can get groceries. That way I don't turn into one of these fat shits that eats every meal out out of the Wendy's. Out of the Wendy's. Oh, God, this guy's great. He's spouting down, loaded up ant trucking.

We're going to do what they say can't be done. We're going to get some hookers at the next truck stop. We can wear condoms and shoot some drugs and we'll all get fucking AIDS and pass it all around. Well, $50 is good for one week of groceries. But it's like pulling fucking teeth for extra money, like say for drinks or some rubbers. No, like for drinks or some extracurriculars. Am I an asshole for thinking I deserve a few extra bucks or what the fuck, Bill? By the way, Naya has a sexy fucking voice and go fuck yourself.

Are you an asshole for thinking you deserve a few extra bucks? Absolutely. The fact that that poor woman is legally bound to you and you have no concept of how to hold on to money. That would be like, I mean, you're a guy, like you're supposed to fucking earn a living to support a family, right? If you have no concept of that, that would be like if she had no concept of like how to have a baby or how to blow somebody. You know what I mean? Because that's what their job is. Sucking dick and making babies.

Such an idiot. Oh God. Imagine if I had the balls to run for president after doing this podcast for five years. How easy would it be to take me down? Dude, why don't you learn about money? Do you really just want to float around like with your fucking eyes wide open just not getting it? Don't you want to understand money? She's giving you 50 bucks a week.

You know why? Because you're too fucking stupid to get 60. And I'm sure you can crawl under a truck and modify it. I'm not saying you're straight across the board, dumb. But to not to not to understand money is I swear to God, dude, is one of the dumbest things that you honestly this is for everybody. It's one of the dumbest things you could ever do in life is I understand not understanding money up to about 1819. But once you're to the point where you can go to a library, we can go on the internet and you can just just read up on it. Okay.

You don't understand money. You're going to be behind the eight ball for your entire fucking life. And you're basically going to be an indentured servant to credit card companies and banks and your life is going to suck way more than it needs to. Okay. I'm not saying that just because you understand money, one of your kidneys isn't going to shit the bed. Bad shit's already going to happen. You don't need to compound it with not understanding money. All right.

This woman is the best thing that ever fucking happened to you. You don't understand money and you want money for drinks and some extracurriculars. What does that mean an eight ball? If you start with drinks and then you say I like how safe for drinks or some extracurriculars like boozing to you isn't even an extracurricular activity. That's just, you know, let's like nourishment for you. So I'm assuming that extracurriculars is at least a bag of weed or maybe some condoms to bang some truck or whore truck stop whore. You know, listen, sir, you got a great fucking woman, but she's only going to put up with you not understanding money for so long because at some point she's going to want a god damn man. Okay.

Especially once you have a couple of kids, she doesn't need you being some adult kids. So I would say read up on money and you'd understand what a favor she's doing for you. If your bank balance is going up, you're doing better than 90% of the people out there. All right. So here's a good thing. You got a fucking angel and she's smart and just read up on money. All right. She's also keeping in shape.

Go buy groceries. Don't become a tub of shit. You know, she's basically without you even realizing or possibly even her. She's laying down the gauntlet here. She's basically saying in her own cute way, I don't want to be married to some fat broke trucker. All right. So read up on money. Keep eating your fucking pears and fruit out there and, uh, and you'll be fine.

Alrighty. There you go. All right. Hyphenating name. Hey, Bill, my girl was thinking about hype of hyphenating. Did I say hyperventilating earlier? I can't even remember five seconds ago. I'm just sleepy.

My girl was thinking of hyphenating her name when we get married. I'm not some archaic patriarchal nutcase, but I think the whole concept is absolutely ridiculous for one reason. First of all, I love that if you, if you even disagree with some fucking horseshit, a woman's going to do at this point, you always have to say, no, I'm not some cave man. Um, so anyways goes, I think it's absolutely ridiculous for one reason. Say we have a daughter and our daughter wants to be like mommy and get her name hyphenated, then she will have three names.

If she has a daughter who does the same thing, she will have four names. Absolutely ridiculous. Your thoughts. Yeah, I would say that women hyphenating their last names is basically the same as that's like their prenup, you know, so they can just drop you off. You know, if you get divorced, they can just sort of chop you off. Like an appendix, you know, like you're this thing that isn't really necessary, but for some reason it's still there, but you can live without it, you know, um, look, she's

either marrying you or she isn't. Okay. Cause I gotta be honest with you when I'm on the road and some married woman with a hyphenated name comes up to me, I think I'm 50% in the game. Hey, I'm not fucking Sarah and Russell. I'm just trying to fuck Sarah and why don't you drop the Russell to not baby? No, I'm just fucking with you. What do I think about that?

Um, I don't know. A woman with a hyphenated last name to me, that's a red flag. That's a red flag. That says to me that she doesn't want a husband. She wants a wife. Uh, she's going to be a terrible mother and she's going to focus on her career. That's what I think. But then again, I'm ignorant.

You know, what are you going to be? Ephraim Zimbalist, Jr. What is a good fucking hyphenated name? Doesn't that check who, uh, that Raven haired beauty who married Michael Douglas? Isn't her name like, uh, Ephraim Zeta Jones, Catherine Zeta, Zeta Jones, Douglas. Is that how she is? Or she just kept her last name? Look, if me and Nia ever get fucking married and she goes, I don't want to take your last name or I want to hyphenate it.

I'd be like, you know, it just, you know, don't fucking, you know, don't, don't, don't pander to me here. All right. I just either you're fucking taking my name or you're not. You're not doing this fucking hyphenated shit. Keep your own last name. I don't give a fuck, but our kids are going to have my last name because I'm the goddamn man and I'm stronger than you. That's how it's going down. I'm going to be honest with you.

I don't, that hyphenating name thing is fucking weird to me. I think you should either just be like, look, I'm not taking your, your last name and just be done with it. Or the hyphenating name is, uh, you know, I noticed that a lot of chicks, uh, on, on Facebook do that so they can get in touch with guys. They used to bang back in high school and college so they can still be found. You know, that's what I think. So there you go. I think she's got a wild streak in her. I don't think she's ready to settle down.

She doesn't want that barn door to close. She'll go into the bar, but don't close that door. She's going to start kicking. Um, advice. Hey Bill, I need some advice. Oh, I didn't give you any. What do you think about it? Yeah, I think it is fucking ridiculous.

All right. Just say, look, if I'm going to pay for your fucking life, who's kidding? Who? That's what's going to happen. You're going to pay for it one way or another. You are going to pay for it. You're going to pay for it. You're going to have most of the fucking financial responsibilities and you're going to die before

she does. That's basically how it goes. You know, can you at least just take my fucking last name and act like you're with me? Fucking unappreciative son of a bitch. Advice. Hey Bill, I need some advice badly. Uh, I've got a fucking delicate situation I'm working with and I'm not sure how to handle it.

I swear to God, this is how this guy's running. I like it. It's very conversational. Uh, a little pertinent. Uh, first, I'm 20, I'm a 20 year old living with my parents. My 21st is the 20th. It's like a math problem. The train leaves at 20 and the 21st is on the 20th.

Um, mid April, I plan on getting a vasectomy. I do not want advice about this. Well, you're going to get judged. What do you owe you with those population people? I haven't gotten laid in about a year and a half. Story. Last Friday the 9th, there was a party at a friend's house. Kelly's.

Her parents were out of town and she was a senior and uh, what did I say her name? Does she have age? Everyone was drinking a lot of fun. Party's winding down and we go upstairs. Saturday morning I woke up in her bed. We go to breakfast, had a real nice time. Saturday night I go over and no party, just great sex. I suggest a new position.

She loses her mind. Says it was the best sex of her life. It's a great story so far. What could go wrong? As we're cuddling, falling asleep Saturday into Sunday, I casually suggest that we should never date. And she completely agrees. Oh my God, this girl's a fucking angel. What could go wrong, right?

Backstep a little bit. I broke up with my very unserious girlfriend and also a senior at the same high school about two or three weeks ago. Saying I want a more serious relationship. Completely true. The fucking challenge is should I try and keep this thing going or quit while I'm ahead? The only potential downside is if word gets out, it would put a lot of strain on the relationship with one of my extremely good friends. Also, my ex-best friend. Alright, so you're banging your ex-best friend's girlfriend.

Do I need to read the rest of this? Yeah, quit while you're ahead dude. Unless you don't give a shit about your best friend. Yeah, that's what I would do. I would get the fuck out of it. Let me re-read that again in case I messed it up. Sorry, I'm fucking half asleep here. The only potential downside is if word gets out, it would put a lot of strain on the relationship with one of my extremely good friends.

Also, my ex-best friend. Dude, I can't do the math on that. I'm too fucking tired. Obviously, you're basically, as far as I can tell, there's a cocktail party right around the corner and you're on just the other side of the world banging the boss's girl. There's something going on here. Yeah dude, get the fuck out. Pull the ripcord. You banged her.

It was great. You're young. It's gonna be another... There's gonna be others. Don't worry about it. Alright? All I can tell you is don't get a vasectomy so you don't have to wear a condom. Wear a condom.

Alright? Definitely do that. You don't need that shit. Alright? You don't need any of that shit that comes along with that fucking... What are we up to? Guys, can I tap out early? You guys ever go sick early on a Friday?

You go home? Tell me, I want to go home, right? Then you go down to the local bar and you start fucking drinking, right? Then all of a sudden, some girl in a jean fucking skirt starts dancing a little provocatively. The next thing you know, you yell, college boy, you're next, right? God, Lord, was that an accused? Yes, it was. Bon Jovi car, everybody.

I'm blown. Hey, you know what? I think it's time for advertising. Oh, great timing on this one. Oh, Amazon.com, everybody. If you're thinking about buying any... Let me just get through all the fucking ads so we can get back to the unbelievably mediocre level of funny that I'm bringing this week. Amazon.com, everybody.

Alright? If you're thinking about buying something, not saying you got it, but if you're thinking of buying something. Alright? On Amazon.com. And you'd like to contribute to my podcast without it costing you one more dime. Just go to Amazon.com. Go back up. Go to billbird.com.

Click on the podcast page. You look on the right-hand side, you'll see an Amazon.com banner. Alright? One for America, one for UK, and one for Canada. Click on whatever country you're in. And the second you go there, whatever you buy, they give me a little kickback. And I take 10% of the kickback and I give it to the Wounded Warriors Project. There you go.

Bing, bang, boom. All done. You donated to the podcast and you helped out the Wounded Warriors. And I just realized, you know what'd be fucked up is what if I got a AfghanistanAmazon.com and 10% of it went to the Wounded Warriors, you know? I don't think I'd sell anything over there. Gamefly.com, everybody. It's the best way to rent video games.

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Would you look at that? Because of me. You have the post office in your house. Okay? You're doing that while you're hitting pause on 8,000 games. Incredible. And then if you go to buy a fucking beanie on Amazon.com, you can help out the Wounded Warriors. You know?

And help me make my garage doors wider. Everybody's winning. Here's something that's really been doing well. The Skate Fenders. People are buying them. People are sending me emails telling me they're loving them. Tell them they're taking pucks in their foot. They barely even feel it.

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SkateFender.com. All right. There you go. That's it for those. That's it for those. Oh, hey, did you see this shit? Did you see this shit about that fucking guy who's got that, you know, he went over to, he went over to Uganda.

That guy, Coney, Coney 2012. You see that? You see how quickly they brought that guy down? This guy shines a light on the, on himself first and foremost and how he and his child are dealing with it, which was really bizarre. I mean, I don't know about you guys, but it was enough for me to see the boy soldier crying because he saw his brother have his neck sliced right in front of him. You know, and he goes from that to be a, now I'm going to sit my son down and tell him

about this. I didn't even get it. All right. So anyways, this guy shines a light on this bullshit that's going on over there and all of a sudden everybody's in an uproar. All of a sudden everybody gives a fuck about Uganda and these boys soldiers, you know, and then all of a sudden the United States government is going, dude, we're fighting two wars.

We can't even afford to fight one. Now this guy's bringing this shit up. Gee, wouldn't it be nice if something fucking happened that would discredit him next thing? You know, a couple of days later, hey, this guy connected with the film from that Coney 2012 gets caught jerking off in public. Was I the only guy who found that unbelievably fucking convenient? I didn't buy it for a second. In fact, I tweeted, you know, back in the day they used to assassinate you.

Now they just do this. You know what I mean? If they can make it look like we landed on the moon in 1969, you don't think that they can make you, anybody they want, make it look like you're rubbing one out in the fucking parking lot. I don't buy it. What that fucking douchebag was doing, not douchebag, that fucking self-serving cunt. There we go.

That's what I was trying to say. What he was doing with that film was he was putting pressure on the United States to go over there and fucking somehow insert themselves into that situation, which would have cost a ton of fucking money. You know? But there's no way to be like, hey, fuck those boys, soldiers. You know, because of the way, because of what it says in our pamphlet. You know, give us your week, give us your pour, and we'll exploit the shit out of them

and let them die of tuberculosis in a damp apartment. And then years later, whoever made the most amount of money gets a statue made out of them. That's all in our thing. So we can't look the other way with these fucking boy soldiers. So what's the easiest thing to do? Just make that guy look like a freak show. First of all, who hasn't jerked off in a parking lot, honestly?

You know? Who hasn't done that? You know, your fucking girl goes in to exchange something. You're sitting there. You're bored. You can't get any radio reception because, you know, it's back in the day. You just say, I'm bored, right? You got a girl in your life.

So, you know, there's going to be some sort of napkins in the car. What are you going to do, right? You got the captain's chairs. No one can see you. This is taking forever. What if I rub one out, right? Yeah. But now everybody's got a fucking camera.

You know, you know what's amazing is that everybody hasn't got caught jerking off in public at this point. Everybody's got a camera in their cell phone. What I'm trying to say to people is I don't buy it. And it doesn't matter. I don't give a fuck whether the guy from Coney was jerking off in a parking lot or not. That doesn't change whether or not there's boy soldiers in Uganda.

But what's great is, is then the conversation switches from what's going on over there to whoa, what's this guy doing? He's rubbing his dick like we all do. And then everybody would be like, yeah, but we don't do it in public. Oh, so what? That makes you better. It doesn't make you better. It just makes you more considerate.

Doesn't it? I mean, if you had two people and they were both shooting heroin and one person had the licensee to do it in their house and the other person does it out in public. At the end of the day, you're both drug addicts. So if you're really going to sit there and shit on this guy for jerking off, then you would have to basically be not jerking off at all. Right? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I'm asking you to look into your hearts.

If you have not rubbed one out, let he who has not rubbed one out. In some sort of pub, no, you never jerked off at work. God, I'm fucking bored. Excuse me. Let me go to the bathroom. Maybe they think I'm taking a shit standing up. Right? Come on.

If you're a guy and your arms are long enough at some point, you've jerked off in some place where you shouldn't have. You're jerked off to somebody you shouldn't have. You've done it. We've all been there. Who gives a fuck? There's still boys fighting in wars over there. So, you know, if you want to help out, help out.

If you don't, don't, but don't let some guy rubbing one out in a parking lot. Change your mind either way. You know what they're doing right now? They're doing what women do when they argue, when they start to lose is they bring up other shit and they spin it into a different room. The next thing you know, you're arguing a whole different argument, an argument that they wanted you to fucking argue so they knew that they could win rather than keeping the argument on fucking track of saying, listen sweetheart, I don't like the way you fucking

been dressing lately. Okay? I got in this relationship to treat you like a piece of fucking meat. All right? And lately, you've been slacking off. Ugh, God. Let me adjust my weight. Maybe the funny's on this side of the couch.

Um, what else? What do we got here? Come on, Bill, you got another 11 minutes. Huh? You know, I feel like right now, like if I was in the Tour de France, I would actually, I would be in the Pyrenees right now. All right. And my podcast is that one bald motherfucker with the bracelet and he just looked back at

me to see how I'm doing. He's seeing my fucking mouth hanging open and now he's going into fucking second gear and I'm going to lose his stage. Okay. Except the Lance Armstrong is my fucking podcast this week. If you didn't get the metaphor, was that a metaphor? It wasn't a simile. Simile is like her as right.

My podcast is like, I always want to say Greg LeMond. What a douche that guy is Greg LeMond. I still can't get over how he talks trash about Lance fucking, uh, all worth whatever the fuck his name is. What is it? Lance what? Lance Whitaker. You only won seven bike races, Bill.

What the fuck have you ever done? Did I even win a bike race in my childhood? You know, I tried to beat my brother one time in a bike race and that motherfucker always beat me because he had big legs, you know, and I had little legs, little bitchy legs. And our driveway was a hill and so we don't, we lived on those busy streets. So we'd always have to fucking stop and then, you know, look both ways and then cross the fucking street. So from a dead stop, I can never, I can never beat this son of a bitch. So one day we're racing home and I come up with a brilliant fucking idea.

I'm like in second grade. I don't know what I'll cross while we're racing. When he goes to stop, I'll be already going up the driveway and I'll get to beat him in his fucking bojaks and thighs right up the goddamn driveway. And I swear to God, I turned around and I looked evidently. I didn't look well enough and I fucking pulled out right in front of a Jeep. And all I heard was boom, right? Next thing you know, I'm fucking upside down.

And I vaguely remember seeing the bumper and feeling the heat of the engine. And, and then like, I don't know, like two seconds later, I was open my eyes and I was laying across the yellow double line on the road. I was out for like literally like fucking five seconds long, like, because by the time I stood up to get out of the street, the guy in the Jeep had already got out this big son of a bitch and he was crying going, oh my God, I hit him, I hit him, I hit him. And he came up, he's like, I'll buy you a new bike. My bike was all mangled. And all I was thinking was my dad's going to fucking kill me for fucking up my bike because that's how it was in the 70s. All right.

I know if that happened to a kid nowadays, my parents would have sued the guy in the Jeep for everything he was fucking worth and then bought me a bicycle made out of gold and that guy's 401k plan, right? But this was the 70s. People didn't sue. People yelled at kids for being dumb when they did dumb shit. So I was like, oh my God, they're going to fucking kill me. My bike's all fucking mangled. And then I went to the hospital and taxi cab. All right.

I told this story before. Remember that? I told you, I hit right on the side of the fucking head. It happened on a Wednesday. I remember it happened on a Wednesday because I didn't have to go to school. The guy said he has to go to school for the rest of the week. So I got Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday off. And all that was fucked up about me was on the side of my head.

Put your fingers on the side of your temples right now, right? And bite down on your molars. You doing that right now? You feel that little thing that goes in and out? That's right where I got hit. So it hurt to chew. So for four days I ate with a little spoon. I didn't know.

I was just such, it was fucking awesome. I didn't have to fake sick. I didn't have to pretend that I was sick. And for four days, which is a goddamn eternity, I got to fucking chill out. 54 minutes. Oh, God, Jesus Christ. I don't know how you fucking people do this.

This is like your work week, isn't it? Just staring at the fucking clock. Hey, you know, I always make fun of how Bon Jovi can somehow sell out giant stadiums in New Jersey, but for some reason can't sell out a fucking Denny's in Oregon. I don't even know if that's true. I just like shit on him. Somebody wrote and said, hey, Bill, I love the podcast. I know one of your vexing questions of our ages.

Why the fuck is Bon Jovi so popular in New Jersey? I get that they're from there by giant stadium. Anyways, he goes, I'm a U.S. service member stationed overseas in Germany. When I first moved here two years ago, I saw a Volkswagen in my town with a Bon Jovi sticker on the side of the car. I thought, holy shit, that is one dedicated fan. It wouldn't be funny if VW really made a Bon Jovi edition of the vehicle.

Well, I started seeing the car elsewhere in Germany and finally I Googled it. It's real. The attached photo is a picture I took on the base of a VW Bon Jovi. Yeah, and it's not a sticker. It's literally like the emblem, like on the side of your car, if it says Prius or Monte Carlo, right? Isn't that funny that Chevy named that car Monte Carlo? Have you ever seen Monte Carlo?

Monte Carlo, that's in France and it has like fucking, that's all the Illuminati money. In America, it's some shitty, actually not shitty. It's a good looking car. Back in the 80s it was. But come on, you know, there was a poor man's caddy. It's a poor man's Buick. Anyways, they actually, it's the, yeah, like whatever, it's the make,

not the make. Not the make. What the fuck is it? They say make type. I don't fucking know. I'm sleepy. It's on the side of the goddamn fucking car. We got a picture of it, everybody.

You know what I feel like right now? I feel like one of those guys who gives those double-decker tour, bus guys, you know, and I don't know shit about the city. I don't give a fuck and somebody hooked me up with the job. That's what I feel like. Anyways, that's the podcast for this week, everybody. I apologize. I take full responsibility of this.

I'm going to do this like when an athlete blows a game and he knows the press is going to trash him, so he just jumps on the fucking grenade before they throw it in his face. I take full responsibility for that loss. I didn't get it done. I didn't get it done. All right, shows I have coming up.

All right, you cunts. I'm going to be at the DuPont Theater in Wilmington, Delaware on March 30th. On March 35th, 31st, 35th, Jesus, wake up. March 31st, the Calvocate of Humor continues. When Bill Burr shows up to Massachusetts own, Bill Burr shows up to the music hall in Troy, New York on April 1st, albeit the Territown music hall

with Paul Verzi. Paul Verzi, New Jersey's own Paul Verzi, who's a, he's a Jets and a Giants fan. He's one of those guys. Whoever's winning, he becomes the fan of them. April 27th, I'm doing a college gig and this is open to the public. This is very rare.

This is a situation that does not occur a lot, hence a rare situation. I'm going to be at Concord College in Concord, New Hampshire. All right, on April 27th. And I have all the links here on billburr.com. You just click on shows and then you click on the go button next to the gig you want to go to. The next thing you know, you go into the fucking show

unless your girl gets sick and doesn't want to go. And then you got to eat the fucking tickets or you're going to resent her. Once she falls asleep, you give her paper cuts with the tickets between her toes. June 15th, 16th, and 17th. I'm going to be in San Jose, California. Vacationing?

No, I'm going to be at the improv. San Jose, California. June 15th through the 17th. And if that city isn't enticing enough, you could then, like the Grateful Dead, follow me to another luxurious city, a place called Ontario, California, part of the Inland Empire

that conquered the Middle Region of Southern California hundreds of years ago. I'm going to be at the Ontario improv on June 29th, 30th, and July 1st. Those are going to be great shows because I hate that city. So I will be extra cunty and probably a lot funnier than I am on this podcast.

And the last one I have for you, for all you white trash people, anybody out there got a mullet. I got back to back now. July 13th, 14th, and 15th, I'm at the improv in West Palm Beach. And if that isn't white trash enough for you, I'm going to be in Orlando, Florida,

home of Disney World, the Epcot Center, and the day after pill. The morning after, what do they call it? Orlando, Florida. I'm at the Orlando improv, September 7th, 8th, and 9th. And finally, I'll be at the Bray improv, September 21st, 22nd, and 23rd. And I know what you're thinking,

wow, Bill, those are a lot of club dates. Those are a lot of shows you're going to do there. You're kind of fucking old. What are you doing all those shows for? Well, I'll tell you why, everybody. I'm building up my new hour. All right, I'm building up my new hour. I was supposed to learn how to ride a fucking motorcycle today,

but it was supposed to rain, so everybody canceled it. So hopefully next week I'll have some stories about me trying to learn how to ride a motorcycle or something. Hopefully I'll have something remotely, remotely funny for you people. Okay, that's the podcast for this week, everybody. And I think it's very fitting for me to end

with the exact amount of energy I have right now in this tone of voice. All right. Oh, YouTube video of the week for drummers out there. Why don't you guys look up the Drew Groove applied to the modern drum set. We'll have all these videos up on the, I'm sorry, on billbird.com on the podcast page.

There we go. I'm actually doing this right now with my eyes closed. Okay. I'm trying to think of an artist who used to perform with his eyes closed, Mitch Hedberg, the great Mitch Hedberg. So that's sacrilegious, because I'm about 190th as funny as that son of a bitch. And speaking of funny, Patrice O'Neill, everybody,

I know I mentioned it a while back. I want to thank all you guys who went out and downloaded Mr. P. His CD was number one on iTunes and generated a lot of money for his mom. And if you're going to buy any comedy or anything like that, I'd appreciate if you do that, if you would buy Mr. P. I told you guys eventually I was going to tell some stories about him, but I'm still stunned by that whole situation.

And I don't want to talk about it. So at some point I will. But anyways, that's the podcast for this week. Please download Mr. P. Amazon.com, all that type of shit. And that's it. Go fuck yourselves. Have a good week. Don't take any shit.

Yeah, people are still boy soldiers in Uganda. Whether or not that guy's rubbing one out or opening his ass for the world to see. Don't ever forget that. Don't lose sight of what the real story is. Okay. That is all. Good night.

And God bless the United States of America.