i just want to conquer people and their souls

My wife has shouted me out on her fabulous blog which has the bonus of being both blessedly gunt and ranga-free, and much better written. For those of you who live in a cabin in the woods, one's "wife" or "wifey" is, in the parlance of today's youth, simply one's close female friend. Clearly, I have a husband (the venerable Manimal ) for home. Anyhoo, my wife makes life bearable for me on the regular, and for that I salute her. In her own post , my wife likened our relationship to that of Mickey Dolenz and Mike Nesmith of The Monkees fame. I could get on board with this, if my mother had not harbored a wicked Davy Jones crush which effectively rendered me unable to look at them without an involuntary shudder. I, being far more predictable and low-brow, (wow, that's probably the first time The Monkeys have been considered high-brow) will offer my own virtual sketch of our bond. This picture represents us quite well. Always getting up to misc...

Howdy, readers. School holidays are coming up, so I thought it might be prudent to return to a little feature here at ijustwanttoconquerpeopleandtheirsouls that I like to call Travel Tips. This is a place for me to pass on the hidden gems that I have discovered throughout my voyages. Loyal readers will remember that the inaugural Travel Tips post was a guide to the wonder that is the Paris Sewer System . As a nod to the Financial Crisis, I thought I'd keep it domestic this time. Just because you don't have any dinero doesn't mean you can't have a good time . With that, I present to you Veronica Montebellucci's guide to Austin, Texas! Now, I will just put this out there: Austin is no Big D, little a, double L, A, S. Unfortunately, there aren't so many women who look like this: Instead, there seem to be more girls that look like this*: Really, Austin? I know you like to keep it "weird" but I can see this kind of shit in Williamsburg and that ...

This post is dedicated to my newest follower, the distinguished and mighty Gunt Hunter. www.guntpatrol.com defines a gunt as: "A protruding sack of fat which extends from the lower abdomen to the upper genital area." Ah, the Gunt (or it's male equivalent, the genis), this inspiring anatomical phenomenon is the Australian cousin of the FUPA . Just like how Brits call pants "trousers", Aussies have christened this condition with a far more charming alias. FUPA just sounds like some sort of sporting league, while gunt perfectly describes the exact two body parts which have fused together. Gunts are like the Benetton of corporeal appendages: they don't discriminate. There are gunts of every color, creed, shape and size - whatever tickles your fancy, really. Click below to see some glorious gunts. Achtung! Some are very not work place friendly.

  Happy 6th Anniversary to the Manimal and I.  Contraria contrariis curantur

By now, readers, you will be quite acutely aware that I am a special breed. My many rants and raves should have alerted you to the fact that it takes a unique man to play house with someone like me. Enter the Resident Manimal (RM). This delightful young man (whose moniker reflects his half man, half fearsome beast genetic makeup) has, for the past 10+ years, deemed me worthy of shacking up with. This photo series proves exactly why we are perfect for each other: This is how we behave when left alone near a display of viking helmets. The Manimal: Me: Obviously, in order for anyone to find living with me feasible, they must have some strange quirks themselves. The Manimal does perform strange old-man stretches in the shower, he also wears ladies slippers and loves nothing more than wrestling men with fungal infections in his free time. Aside from these foibles, however, the RM is a doyen of respectability and glamour. He has an eye for the finer things in life. Our palatia...

Hey guys! In less than 8 hours I'll be on winter vacation for one sweet week. You know what that means....

I hate winter. Fucking hate it. I hate people who say winter is their "favorite season". I HATE YOU. GO AWAY - NEVER COME BACK! They're just giant liars. They are deriving pleasure from being contrary, that's all it is. No-one likes winter. I try and go to my happy place when people start their, "Oh isn't it great to feel the changing seasons! I love the "crisp" feeling of a winter's day. I'm going to take my girl/boyfriend to the park to sled and drink hot chocolate" spiels. Screw. You. No-one can possibly enjoy feeling their skin peeling off from their lips and faces for at least 4 months of the year. No-one thinks that having to wear protective long johns and the sartorial equivalent of a sleeping bag every day is awesome. No-one likes the feeling of stepping off the curb and realizing that what you thought was the road is actually an ankle deep ice puddle (also known as urban quicksand). Nature knows what's up; ev...

Hello readers. Residing year round at Montebellucci headquarters (otherwise known as the sodden cardboard box beneath the BQE overpass), makes a girl yearn to get away. Although, my digs are coming along quite nicely. I've been lucky over the course of my "life" to have spent a lot of time "abroad". How? You may ask. Well, I took a substantial amount of time "finding myself" before ultimately realizing that my ideal life involved living in the world's most expensive and unforgiving city, while attempting to shape the minds of today's youth (pictured below). It's going pretty well. Anyway, when I'm down in the proverbial dumps, or my abode is leaking acid rain, I like to cast my mind back and remember the good times I've had elsewhere. When the resident Manimal and I travel, we like to go beyond the standard tourist fare. We aim to venture past the Mona Lisas and Lady Liberties of this world, to experience a town by e...

 Well, I think we've all known each other long enough for me to reveal my absolute biggest rave. This is a noble pursuit which i have been engaging in for quite some time now. I thought I'd put these out there because I've seen many imposters on the intertubes, and I've been doing jumping photos ever since I was a lower-case G. My wedding didn't stop me from jumping. No, sir.