My gay, homewrecking SIM

My Sim found out she was gay when she was trying to piss off a girl named Kia by kissing her while surrounded by visible green stink clouds. Since that life changing moment, a lot more has progressed.

It was the Sim weekend, and I had only $85 dollars to my name because I'd quit my job, bought a new couch and accidentally burned a bunch of ham and eggs. Basically, all I could do was spend my time making out with people and trying to "woo hoo," because that was free. I was looking through my Sim's contacts and I noticed she had a budding romance with Jill. I called up Jill and invited her over. We watched TV together and made out a lot, but then she started to get crabby. Her husband, Jack, is down lately and she wanted me to make him laugh. Why on earth her solution to her husband's depression was getting her lesbian affair girlfriend to tell him a joke, I don't know. Or maybe Jill wanted us all to have a three-way from the get go and Jack's depression was due to a lack of sexual adventure in their hum-drum marriage. But I decided I would help her out and see if I could break up their marriage along the way. I decided to forgive them for taking advantage of me in this vulnerable moment of just finding out I was gay/having problems with body odor.

So I walked over there and I had Jack hooting and hollering with all my jokes/flirty jokes/faces made, and then Jill got home and saw me there and looked crabby. I was just about to explain to her that I'd made Jack laugh so we could start our three-way/their divorce but then my game shut off and I didn't save my project.
What a great game.

Return of the Mad Dogs

Listen closely, children, and I'll tell you a tale. Once upon a time there were two nefarious souls, psuedo-glitterati hellbent on taking over the world by tyrannical, jewel-encrusted force and subjecting the masses to their sinister chicdom. The lunar calendar was in the proper cycle; cats began walking on their hind legs and wearing top hats; horses began going insane and galloping off cliffs to their doom. The diabolical plans of this dastardly duo, better known as the singular entity Kohn Sandvig, nearly came to fruition. The seven Ferragamo demons came on their seven gangrenous swans, carrying the severed head of Marc Jacobs and the freshly unearthed remains of Guccio Gucci to be used as a sacrifice toward Kohn Sandvig's success. All seemed lost.

Then a bright line shown from the East, and a pack of glorious black dogs came sprinting from the ether, their beautiful coats shining like holy fire in the moonlight. The pack of savage beasts ripped through Kohn Sandvig's soldiers, their skinny, cocaine-chic bodies open to attack after Kohn mandated that the infantry's armored uniforms be replaced with low-cut v-neck T's and D&G jeans. The massacre was swift and the black dogs retained the majority of their strength, thirsting for the blood of Kohn Sandvig.

They crossed the threshold of the castle gate, past the walls littered with portraits of Queen Harry, Madame Spears, and Lady Gaga, climbed the innumerable steps to the top of the highest tower and leapt through the door of his/her chamber.

"What is this treachery!" It hissed in a high-pitched squeal.

The mad dogs circled their prey, bearing their yellowed teeth and growling with the timbre of an enraged Michael Madsen or a horny Miss Piggy. Kohn attempted to keep the monsters at bay, throwing NARS lipstick by the fistful and twirling like a drunken sailor on shore leave, but then their came a dancing dip, and Kohn's very being was abruptly ripped in twain. They were undone by their own manicured hand. The one called Kara fell to the floor, her outrageously curled hair softening the blow, while the one known as John, his frilly shirt the thing of a "Seinfeld" episode, clutched his lumbar vertebrae and yelled,

"My back!"

The dogs laughed their grizzled laugh. They licked their chops and prepared for the perfumed feast. But then the one called John had an idea. True, his body was frail and decrepit like an octogenarian, but his wits were sharp like... like a... like an octogenarian with a samurai sword. He reached in a nearby cupboard for a bottle of whisky and hurled it at the pack. Their thirst for the pair's blood was strong, but their love of sweet mother liquor was insatiable; it numbed their better judgment, especially that of the alpha male. They lapped at the drink covering the chamber floor while Kara lifted the skinny man-boy into her arms and carried his weeping mass down the castle steps, out into the street where they escaped in a Buick Century. The dogs, having licked the floors clean of whisky, told a few anecdotes about the last time they were inebriated, smashed some shit up, and ate six whole pizzas before they came back to their senses. Sound reasoing restored, they were disappointed that they hadn't destroyed Kohn once and for all. Still, they had driven the evil being from the castle and that was a small victory. The heroic dogs took their guard at the castle walls, readied themselves for the battle that would one day surely come, and bared their fangs into smiles. There would be another sunrise.

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Kara and John have begun blogging again. In response, we here at Da Dawg House have decided, nay, we've been forced by the powers that be, and by the moral responsibility that comes with being this awesome, to restart our blog and combat the evils of karajohn.com. The road is long with many a winding turn. But, as we did in the days of yore, we will expel Kohn Sandvig from this land, and milk and honey will rain from the heavens. This we swear.

Stealing March's First Post

So I figured I'd snatch March's first blog post, and seeing as how I have only posted one note so far, it's about time for me to make another.

I had almost planned from the start to make a post dedicated to my most important addiction, which is my addiction to tobacco.

I'll start with an introduction. I've never habitually smoked cigarettes, but I can reasonably say that I've been addicted to nicotine for a while now. I don't recollect the first time I smoked shisha, but I'd venture a guess that it was sometime in my senior year, or possibly freshman year of college.

After I had my initial taste of the delights that hookahs bring, it wasn't long until I had to have one myself. I started off with a minimal setup of a no-name $40 glass based hookah from The Hideaway in Dinkytown. That lasted me quite a few months, primarily smoking Pharaoh's tobacco. One thing you should know about me, though, is that once I delve into something, whether it be keeping aquariums, printmaking, or in this case, owning and enjoying hookahs, I try to learn as much about the subject as possible. Aided by the internet, I have learned a whole lot about hookahs.

I quickly discovered that not only are the brand of coals that you use and the varieties of shisha that you smoke important, but also your hose, and general setup. Due to this discovery, I went out and bought another hookah, dubbed affectionately 'The Amber Spyglass', and purchased a Razan hose. The importance of a quality hose is often overlooked, and it can lead to greater splendor through the smoking of your hookah. Razan hoses are often considered the best hoses around, and retail for about $20-25.

Key points about Razan hoses are as follows:
Washable plastic hose material, comparable to a garden hose, which makes it easy to clean without fear of rusting (non washable hoses are wound with wire which will rust if washed),
Large handle. This is a personal preference, but I feel that it's a worthwhile plus to mention.

Wider hose. This is the kicker of the hose argument, if there is one. Razan hoses are quite a bit wider all along the length of the hose, which makes it easier to draw, and facilitates larger quantities of smoke for those big clouds you often dream of. (Or maybe I'm the only one who dreams about that).

Now, hoses aside, the quality of your hookah is essential for a quality smoke. I currently have a Mya Vortex (retail for about $100, pictured above), which has not let me down as of yet. The biggest benefit of buying a high quality hookah, in my opinion, is how long it lasts. Repeated draws on a hookah lead to water vapor getting in the stem, which often times ends up in corrosion of the threads that screw it into the base. A higher quality hookah will have at least some preventative measures, such as being made of stainless steel, which will prevent this from occurring too quickly, but I don't think any hookah is immune to this.

Aside from the quality of your hookah and hose, the other important things are coals and shisha.
I personally prefer Tangiers shisha. It's an American company (Yeah, America! Right?) that uses all US grown tobacco. They have multiple types of shisha that they sell, Tangiers Premium, Tangiers Lucid, and Tangiers F-Line.
Premium is their standard, and has the most flavors to choose from. It's unwashed tobacco, which makes it different from garden variety head shop brands like Pharaoh's etc. This means that the tobacco has a higher nicotine content, and this is very noticable if you smoke it after only smoking washed tobacco. F-Line is their goofy offshoot line that has caffeine. I've tried this, and I didn't think it was anything to shout about, I didn't really notice anything different. Plus, it's probably just bad news bears for your body, but fuck that anyways. Lastly, the Lucid line is their washed tobacco, and thus has less nicotine content, for those bitches who can't handle a little heat. Overall, I've smoked a lot of brands of shisha, but Tangiers is always my number one when it comes to shisha. If you use natural coals, one bowl of Tangiers can last for 3 hours+ with full flavor.

Now, for coals. I'm pretty lazy, so I just use 3 Kings instant lights, which I consider to be the best of all the instant light coals, in the categories of price, flavor, and time to light. A box of 100 coals sells for about $13.

If you want to be more picky, and smoke the highest quality bowls, you'll go natural coals. The problem with these is that they take several minutes to light while being held over a burner. The ideal situation would be either having a personal burner or a stove near whever you smoke. Benefits from smoking natural coals are that you'll never taste the coal, due to the lack of added chemicals for the 'quick-light' aspect. I'd guess that they are considerably healthier for you, but that may not be true, and also who cares. Brands I've read to be good are Coco Nara and Exotica Japanese coals. Never tried them though, so you'll have to see for yourself.

Well this kind of turned into me basically jerking off Tangiers and Razan hoses for being so great, but rightfully so, because they both kick ass.

I'm not going to go into health issues here, because, to be honest, I don't care.


Keep enjoying tasty shisha, I am.


Forgot, one last thing. Prices listed are based on what I've paid before at www.mnhookah.com Tarik and the rest of the crew are some good guys, and they've got good deals and ship fast.

On the ten-thousandth day of internet, my web-search gave to me: endless, typing drunks!

Please forgive the use of "12 Days of Christmas" for the title. I plan to reference it about ten times in life and then let it go forever.

Anyway, today I was doing a routine Google search of my website (leckybang.com) and I found a couple entries, supposedly "by" Leckybang on a site called Drunksblog.com. Now, I know I haven't ever fathomed such a site, so it couldn't have been moi posting.

My first assumption was that it there was another Lecky Bang out there, some parallel universe quasi me, who was the opposite of me by, um, really liking alcohol. But no. Drunksblog had posted a Twitter I wrote about a drunk person in Josh's house. It is webcrawling for our drunken statements! It is a drunken RSS, I suppose. Anyway, it updates constantly, because the world is drunk.

Here are my recent favorites:
"drunk bitch is finally going to bed"
"half price wine @ crust. Drunk"
"to be drunk by clouds"
poetry.

Shhh, Please Not So Loud: One

I woke up this morning and immediately regretted it. The sun was brighter then usual, too bright and was slowly but surely killing me. My head ached in a way that only happens when you drink a bottle of champagne. I stood up from my bed and had to sit right back down. I was hungover. And for the first time part of me was glad.

Once I was able to get to my feet and withstand the weight of my own body I thought of this blog post and which cure I was going to try. I figured to start this off I would use my standard hangover remedy. I popped the Advil that resides on my nightstand for mornings just like this one and parted my unbearably dry mouth to pour water down. I always expect instant ease and comfort and therefore I am always disappointed. The next step of my cure involves a long shower. I brought my iPod speakers in to the water closet with me and put Rilo Kiley's "The Initial Friend and stayed in the shower until the album was complete, my hands were pruned and I had written most of this post in my head. By now the Advil had kicked in and I was left with only a dull ache in my head.

It's hours later and I can still feel the effects of last night on my body.
The Advil only lessened the pain, the shower, while nice, relaxing and cleansing, really did nothing. This is really no cure for a hang over.

So this concludes the first posting of Shhh, Please Not So Loud, I hope it was enjoyable. Please feel welcome to suggest hangover cures and I will attempt them and report and the success.

Perez + horrible news = surprisingly good revelation

Perez Hilton posts that a plane crashed into a house in New York. Zero commenters cry terrorism. America is officially out of the Bush era.