Although the String may be real time, the Monkey with a Gun blog certainly is not.  Time to catch up on some things we missed while Donald Trump was destroying America.  Glad to have Seadick back in the game, and looking forward to some quality drunken content from Irish Jesus.

As the resident expert on age appropriate smokes, it is my responsibility to drop this masterpiece in everyone’s eyeball.  If you turn the volume all the way down, this is just a great video.  Fergie and her hot mom friends basically just dance around and pour milk on themselves and tease the milkman with their Fergaliciousness.  Genius! Continue reading →

So here’s another daily entry for the award winning, internationally acclaimed feature that we call Blonde Tracks, because they are music tracks by blondes.  Deal with it.  We use this feature to get through the universally recognized worst time of the year, the time after the Super Bowl and before the ice on the sidewalk thaws out so you can go outside and throw a ball around without the risk of a slip and fall where you crack your head open on the pavement.  If you held a gun to my head and demanded that that I name a worse time of year, you better have the nutsack to pull the trigger, because I couldn’t name one. Continue reading →

Welcome back to the internationally acclaimed Monkey With a Gun daily feature called Blonde Tracks, and by daily feature I mean the days I post something.  The Blonde Tracks help us get through the worst time of the year after the Super Bowl and before Pi Day, which is 3-14 if you are a mathematical idiot.  You could deny me access to a bathroom until I named a worse time of year and I would end up in a situation not unlike Fergie in this picture: Continue reading →

Welcome back to the world famous daily blog we call Blonde Tracks, which used to be called Lost Tracks, but now is called Blonde Tracks.  These Blonde Tracks help us to get through what everyone recognizes is the absolute worst time of the year–that time of the year after the Super Bowl and before March Madness starts when there is no excuse whatsoever to drink, but you drink anyway, so you look like a damn alcoholic.  You could withhold the Bud Light and only allow me to drink warm cucumber beer until I named a worse time of year, and although I would certainly cite the Reinheitsgebot in protest, I’d be drinking cucumber beer, I guess. Continue reading →

Welcome back to our award winning new feature that I invented this week that used to be called “Lost Tracks” and had to be renamed “Blonde Tracks” because all of the lost tracks were about blondes.  I came up with this feature to get us through the worst time of the year, that time when post-NFL depression sets in and there are no sports to watch that don’t totally suck.  The time of the year when the temperature rarely gets above negative 40 degrees on either the Fahrenheit or Celsius scale, which is of course the same at negative 40 degrees.  I could lick a frozen flag pole and you could stand next to me with a pot of warm water offering to pour it on my tongue if I named a worse time of year, but I couldn’t do it because there isn’t a worse time of year and because you can’t really talk with your tongue frozen to a flag pole.  Continue reading →