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babies in bars

My new poem about my hatred that is white-hot and unrelenting for babies in bars.

I love babies in bars.
smoking cigars.
picking at umbilical scars.
strumming little guitars.
going for jugulars.
trying to pay with dinars.
stalking their favorite reality stars.
talking about their trips to Myanmar.
shamefacedly reading Harper's Bazzar.
waiting for the valet to come around with the car.

wishing her biological clock would tick faster,

akw

Why We Haven't Blogged in So Long

Hi there everyone,

I'm writing to update you as to why we haven't blogged since August, seeing how it's now November. Well, Made of Babies lost a very good friend to Entitilitus. It was a very sad occasion, but Randy the Intern is in a better place now. Actually, it's probably a worse place because Randy was a 45 year-old Star Wars freak who spent 10 years at Sing-Sing for making a small child dress up as an Ewok and pleasure him. Not many people saw the side of Randy we did, though. And it was touching. Very touching. Here's Randy at a sporting event last month:


He's the hefty guy. It says "Fail" because this picture has been circulating the internet as a reminder that Entitilitus kills. We failed to help Randy. God help us all.

Peace on Earth,

-Michael

guatemalan-ness

Armand, why don't you let me be in the show? Are you afraid of my Guatemalan-ness?
Your what?
My Guatemalan-ness, my natural heat. You're afraid I'm too primitive to be on the stage with your little estrogen rockettes, right?
You're right. I'm afraid of your heat.


Sigh. I am TOTALLY watching The Birdcage tonight. It has been too long.

How I met James Holland

Hey there Made of Babies followers! Mike here with another thrilling story. You know, I met Amy and Emily through an old theater company but there is a special story about how I met the Hollandaise: James Holland. I call him Hollandaise because he's so damn sweet. James used to work for Publisher's Clearing House and I entered the sweepstakes. We've taped this re-enactment for your viewing pleasure, of how we met. Please note the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Enjoy!

-Michael

Mario and Luigi: Behind the Video Game

I salvaged this little short cleaning out an old PC.

GoodBurger: 9 to 5 or Much Earlier.

GoodBurger poured himself a cup of coffee but instead of coffee he filled it with cream. I told him I know you are just lapping cream out of that cup but he denied it.
I told him, "I smell it. There's only cream in there."
He denied it again.
I asked him, "Why, are you here anyways?"
He said, "I wanted to see where you work."
His accent was thick and pleased my boss.
He started doing an imitation of the gay guy that sits behind me.
It was very funny.
Only I laughed.
during it he knocked over the cup of cream. It spilled on my keyboard and we were both sent home early.
needless to say, we aren't speaking to each other...again.

GoodBurger's redition of "Starry Night" entitled "Goodnight"

What happens when other cats see Goodburger

THIS happens:

death to roommate.

This weekend, I was in the car with my roommate on my way to a friend's house in Philly for her birthday party. My roommate starts singing the song featured in the below video. It gets stuck in your head for hours and you cannot escape it. There are only nine different words in the song. Fair warning.

See below for the unofficial video for Das Racist (apparently, they are German).

facebook

Alright, you jackals. You win. I am now on the Facebook.

akw

San Diego Comic Con 2009

Hey there everyone!
It's me, Mike! Some of you may have heard that Emily has a pinched nerve in her back (it's really bad), so I will be filling in for her the best I can for the first part of this blog. If you see her, give her a big ol' pat on the back and shake her as hard as you can! She loves it! That said, let me give it a whirl. Ahem...
"OMG there was so much stuff going on today. I did my hair and exercised and hung out with my totally hot boyfriend and then we went to get Smoothies. Sometimes I babysit, but today I just left the TV turned on to Spongebob, gave the kids a few Tylenol PM, and took off! I gotta be back by 5. I left Joey in the tub! LOL! So Mike and I went to the Carnival and he tried to win me a big stuffed elephant but couldn't! LMFAO! But then, he uncovered that the whole game was a scam and the guy got run out of the park! 2G2BT! K peeps, BRB! Gots to check on Joey!"

-Emily *

So anyhow, I was in San Diego a while back at the Comic Con! It was tons of fun, but now the costumes aren't making any sense at all. Look:

I mean, I get the Princess Leia thing, but why is she hanging out with Elvis? Elvis also had a light saber. You can see my blog at my company's website for more pics.

For a good laugh, here's how tired I was after flying in on the red-eye hours after the Comic Con closed. I look charming.


Thanks for stopping by! New MOB news coming soon!

*Blogger's note: Emily sounds nothing like this at all. This is not Emily, but Mike Petranek. He is a jerkface.

Our heroes are human

This video will change your life. Don't drink and film, everybody!

Mike's in the comicbooks!

Hey guys,

You should all totally pick up TALES FROM THE CRYPT comicbook #13 "Diary of a Stinky Dead Kid" today, not just because I'm the assistant to the editor, but because my artist friend Rick Parker paid homage to me in the art. Check it, check it, out!





Yup. That be me name on them arcade machines. Cool, eh? I just got back from San Diego Comic Con and will have photos to upload later. I was interviewed for an online TV show about Tales from the Crypt and I'll share that once it's broadcast. Later!

-Mike

literally

I know it's been around for a while, but I just was introduced to this for the first time last night. It works so well because this is such a tough song to rework, but the singing is pretty impeccable.

mmm pie

It is nearly the weekend. I am not ashamed to say it. I need pie.



Sadly, that is not going to happen. But what will happen soon is fortification for the weekend.


Have a great weekend, gentle readers.

smooches,
MoB

p.s. is it just me, or would "Mmm Pie" make a great band name?

ch-ch-check it out

Our lovely emcees and friends (the exceptionally talented Anna and Nathan) from our Evening with "Bruce Campbell" are in a wicked new adaptation of Shakespeare's Measure for Measure. We at Made of Babies will be in attendance. You all should come too. Details are below, or you can contact MoB for more information.

Dollar beers. In addition to seeing theater. And supporting two stellar individuals.

DOLLAR BEERS. Jump on it.

Goodburger At Rest

This is from before he had gastric bypass.

meow

Here is an old joke to help cleanse the palate.

A sadist, a masochist, a murderer, a necrophile, a zoophile and a pyromaniac
are all sitting on a bench in a mental institution.

"Let's have sex with a cat?" asked the zoophile.
"Let's have sex with the cat and then torture it," says the sadist.
"Let's have sex with the cat, torture it and then kill it,"
shouted the murderer.

"Let's have sex with the cat, torture it, kill it and then have
sex with it again," said the necrophile.
"Let's have sex with the cat, torture it, kill it, have sex with
it again and then burn it," said the pyromaniac.


There was silence. . . . . . . . . . . .and then the masochist said: "Meow."

New photo from Saturday.  Us with the Sparkle Ham:



Enjoy you jackals.

train denizens

There is this gentleman that rides my train most mornings and I saw him again today. He makes his entrance on the F train at West 4th Street, in one of the last three cars at about 8:12 a.m. He then takes the train all the way up to my stop, West 57th Street, where we both depart. I have been determined to follow the fellow to see where he goes at about 8:23 in the morning on the west side of midtown, but have yet to do so for various factors (i.e. running late, pop in to the bank, stop at the Duane). The reason why my roommate and I have become besotted by him is his attire. He wears spiked-to-maim motorcycle boots; torn, acid-wash, well worn jeans; a black, voluminous cape; a submissive collar with an elephantine, fist-sized leash ring in the front and is always sans shirt. He has long, dark hair that he wears either tied back in a low ponytail or just simply lets it hang. When he exits the train, he removes his cape and prepares to light a cigarette. He also wears bookish glasses, similar to those of John List. He looks like all of the furniture in his apartment would be outfitted in Nacho Carbonell's Skin line:




Bangarang. I still cannot fathom where he is going on the west side of midtown that early in the a.m., dressed to submit. Mayhap an early morning stroll in the park.

It's martini night. Hunker down.