Hating on hipsters has been a trend for a while now, a trend I avoided as I do with any other. Maybe I just had an exceptional tolerance after surviving a highly contaminated urban arts college, but I never understood why people got so mad about the music they’ve seemed to hijack, or their popularization of some cheap piss water beer. Sure, they may have soiled the reputation of flannel for a minute, but reconnecting to one’s butch dyke roots can calm those nerves. I’ve even looked past their robbery of a classic accessory – Garth glasses. But then, those tight jeaned, ironic wolf sweater wearing motherfuckers got their hands on something holy and I’m putting my big, black, crusty Doc Marten’s down right the fuck now.

Everyone knows the very basic requirements to get in my pants include a high BMI and a face full of hair. When somewhat inebriated, I can even look past one’s stupidity, bad jokes, and all around lame personality as long as there’s just a fucking beard to rest my throbbing lady boner upon. So it was no surprise when this luscious head of scruff caught my eye while driving through town one day. It was my favorite kind of face – chubby cheeks nestled beneath a nice full, dark beard and ‘stache. My boner drooled at the site until my friend pointed out a major fucking detail. I don’t know if I missed it due to the fuck ton of joints I had smoked before our outing, or the fact that the only beard The Duchess has come into contact lately is her own, but somehow I missed the bent up messenger hat, Ray-Bans, and dirty t-shirt that was supposed to look thrifted but actually cost thirty bucks. When I verbalized my impulse to tackle that beard with my pussy, my friend questioned me with horror in his eyes – “You mean that fucking hipster?”

It couldn’t be. My boner was shattered and I was left contemplating this tragedy for days. No amount of THC has hindered my perception before, but somehow my holy expectations were deceived. How could I ever be attracted to a hipster? There is only one conclusion:

The hipsters have not only stolen the beard, but have manipulated it from a once sacred and beautiful, boner-inducing gift from the gods of testosterone, into a devious weapon in their schemes for world domination. They are now camouflaging themselves beneath the most beautiful tufts of facial hair, making The Hipster harder to detect and their rapid reproduction and infestation less noticeable. They are going undercover as innocent, good-looking, perfectly sculpted beards, earning fast respect and wetting many panties, promoting easy access to the World Bank of Boners. Once the WBB comes under control of The Hipsters, we’re fucking fucked, for extensive reasons and with tremendous consequences.

I refuse to ignore their regime any longer. No one fucks with my boner, and no one fucks with the beard. This is motherfucking war. I’m officially calling for the reinstatement of the Bearded Army of Bad Asses, who must rise to the streets to end this epidemic once and for all. We must scope dive bars and bike paths high and low for these culprits. I’ve dedicated many hours and minutes to configuring scientific procedures for taking down The Hipster.

First off, take extreme caution when cumming under the influence of a beard. Some Hipsters may be easier to spot if they’ve curled their moustache. In fact, these are high-risk Hipsters that must be taken out immediately, regardless of the vicinity of women and children (though kittens still require the utmost caution.) Look for messenger bikes, Moleskine journals, and irony. Hot spots include record stores and organic grocery chains.

When The Hipster is spotted, engage in Operation Fuck Shit Up. Causing a scene will disorient The Hipster. Try knocking off his fake glasses so he has to pretend to look for them on the ground, forcing him into a vulnerable position. This makes their capture easier, giving you more time to fashion some sweet Boy Scout knots into handcuffs out of your extensive collection of beard hairs. You must then risk contamination by getting close enough to their face for the power of The Beard to hypnotize The Hipster. Tickling him with your tufts will ensure hypnosis, as no one can avoid succumbing to the sensation of soft scruff. Once detained, you can dispose of The Hipster as you wish.

We must protect the sanctity of the lady boner. Ensuring that none are wasted upon Hipster beards is of utmost importance – for if we cross breed with these monsters, we’re only helping to further their infestation.



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Zach Galifianakis… again

It’s been way too fucking long since I’ve updated this shit. I could make up a whole bunch of excuses about how I was too busy moving to LA or too busy graduating college or too busy like, surviving and shit but, uh, fuck it, whatever, I got blue balls from the lack of busted loads this blog usually relieves me of so let’s get this shit back on track!

We all know that my biggest boners are caused by Zach Galifianakis so I think it only makes sense to reboot this blog with a nice big post about the perfect man. I’ve come across a ton of other shit by him since Hangover came out so let’s evaluate the beard in each piece:

Zach Galifianakis: Live at the Purple Onion (2007)

This is the only taping of his stand up I’ve found and I watch this shit at least once a month. It’s on Netflix instant so get the fuck on it if you haven’t seen it already. It’s definitely my favorite thing of his because you get to really see his brand of comedy, not just some character in a movie, ya dig? This has also got to be my favorite beard. Unkempt, foul mouthed, and drunk… mmm, let me stop myself before I get a chubby. I’d give it a rating of 10 fucks.

Visioneers (2008)

Visioneers is a dark comedy about a guy who is on the brink of exploding (yes – literally exploding) due to stress. His co-workers have been exploding a lot lately and it’s only a matter of time before he does. (I’m sure I could relieve that stress with a different kind of explosion.. eh? eh? Sorry, it was too easy..) This was definitely the most unexpected performance I’ve seen from Zach and I fucking loved it. It’s bizarre and dark and, well, everyone greets each other with a middle finger so it’s gotta be good! His beard isn’t as burly as usual, though, so I’m afraid I’d only rate it 7 fucks.

Bored to Death (2009 – )

If you haven’t seen Bored to Death yet then you might as well be fucking shot. This show is fucking hilarious and can be seen on HBO. Alongside the love of my life, it stars Jason Schwartzman and Ted Danson in a ton of pot ridden escapades while Jonathan (Schwartzman) attempts life as an unlicensed Craigslist detective. Zach plays Jonathan’s best friend Ray, a sad comic book artist with a fucking phenomenal beard. He’s got some crazy, neurotic girlfriend in the show and I’d just like to say that that bitch needs to chill the fuck out before I break her and sit on that luscious, bearded face for her. Though the beard isn’t as big as the Purple Onion beard, Ray is just so sad and cute that I’d pity fuck the shit out of him regardless. Rating: 8 fucks

It’s Kind of a Funny Story (2010)

It bothers me that this movie wasn’t a wide release because this is my all time favorite role of his. It’s an adaptation of a novel that follows a 16-year-old suicidal kid who checks himself into a mental hospital where he meets Bobby, played by Zach. Bobby’s a rule-bending guy who sneaks around the hospital all the time looking for adventure – at one point he steals a doctor’s scrubs and jacket, wandering aimlessly around the hospital. He never wants to admit why he’s there, saying he’s just there for vacation. What I love so much about this performance is his balance between humor and drama. There’s one super fucking powerful moment where Bobby just sorta loses it and I was on the verge of fucking tears. I really hope Zach Galifianakis takes some more serious roles because there’s way more to him than the fucking Hangover. Anyway, I’m all about crazy motherfuckers and this beard is one of his best. Rating: 9 fucks

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Emergency message from your moderator

I apologize for the lack of updates lately – but we here at BGMB have been struggling through a horrific drought. Americans everywhere have been grappling with this disaster and it’s important that we take a moment to discuss this publicly. We, as productive citizens of America, must educate ourselves in order to stir up discussion and contemplate what we can do to help.

This realization smacked me in the face recently like a tripple whopper with bacon and extra cheese. In only a few years it seems we’ve lost everything – well, lost weight. Our chubby stars are losing weight quicker than ever, and the epidemic doesn’t seem to be slowing any time soon.

I was first hit with the effects of the outbreak in 2005 when Jack Osbourne began his weight loss in order to climb El Capitan for his Travel Channel show, Jack Osbourne: Adrenaline Junkie. This came as a shock to my hormone-engraged teenage self, for my boner had been growing for Jack for years. And with the news of this loss, a boner that had been festering for three years went limp almost immediately.

The epidemic suppressed itself for a few years, silently bubbling beneath the surface of Hollywood. We thought it was over – just a one time hit. And then, in 2009, it was reignited with fury when Seth Rogen dropped his luscious pounds for, yet another, “career move” – for his role in The Green Hornet. Another boner lost.

The outbreak settled again, and though lightning did strike twice, we hoped that it was finally over. But then came the news, just this week, that Jonah Hill has shrunk as well. Why? A role in the upcoming remake of 21 Jump Street. Jonah lost over 30 pounds for the role, forcing a loss of possibly my biggest boner yet.

Don’t you see? Actors’ “careers” are interfering with our boners and it’s enraging! Who do they think they are, engaging in “physical activity” and “diet” in order to appease the eyes of mainstream America? What is this shit about “furthering one’s career”? Who do these actors think they are, robbing us of our boners and becoming physically fit and bettering their health? Something drastic needs to happen, and I’m going to be the bitch to pull the stunt:


What you can do:

Send care packages containing any of the following to your nearest dwindling fat actor:

-Coca-Cola, Pepsi, or any other fizzy, sugary drink.

-Gift cards to fast food chains such as Burger King, McDonalds, In-n-Out, etc (because the actual food may rot during transit). Gift cards to places like Cold Stone Creamery and Baskin Robbins will also suffice.

-Family packs of Doritos, Fritos, Cheetos, etc.

-Anything with high sugar contents – chocolate, Swedish Fish, powdered drinks like Kool-Aid or hot chocolate.

-Any type of carbohydrate – Tasty Kakes/Entenmann’s pastries, pastas, bagels, french baguettes.

Any size donation will further our cause.

Remember – if we want revolution, we need to bring it ourselves. RECLAIM YOUR BONERS!!

Thank you.

President of BGMB and victim of Fatty Drought 2011,

Sabrina Dropkick

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Jemaine Clement

I know, I know – sideburns aren’t exactly a beard, but I think I’ma let this one slide because everything about him is boner worthy. The sideburns are a give in, but then he’s got this adorable little gap between his front teeth: +1 boner inches. The New Zealand accent: +3 boner inches. Flight of the Conchords: +2 boner inches for music and +3 for humor. And the motherfucker is tall and thick: +3 boner inches. Add it up bitches – that’s a motherfucking foot long. UNF.

Dear Jemaine:

I can only imagine the massive horse dick you’ve got hidden beneath your pants. You are the complete package – music, comedy, looks. I wouldn’t be anything less than honored to be graced with the presence of your man meat. You can fill my girly parts any day.



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Charlie Day

Quite obviously the hottest piece of ass on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Charlie Day is also one of its writers (along with the other less attractive, lanky motherfuckers). Sure, his character doesn’t bathe. So what if he’s illiterate? And obsessive? Psssht, I’d let that fucker stalk me any day. Shit – I’d even pay him back with a quickie behind Paddy’s Pub. Point blank – with that scrumptious, scruffy face, you can get away with anything and just call it “charming”.

Dear Charlie,

DO ME. That is all.



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Kris Kringle

Kris Kringle (aka Santa Claus) may be the perfect man. The dude only drops in once a year, in the middle of the night so you don’t even gotta see or speak to the motherfucker, and leaves a bunch of awesome shit under your holiday tree. He asks for nothing in return but some cookies and milk, which I can totally handle because it’s a lot better than the usual (you know, having to put out for a dude in exchange for some Chinese take-out and a shitty movie.) Santa is the ultimate sugar daddy.

Dear Santa,

If cookies and milk can get me some clothes and dvds, then does that mean I can just sit on your face for an Ipod? How about a blowie for a new car? Your choice.



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Jack Black

Now this motherfucker knows what’s up. I’m going to completely dismiss everything in entertainment that he’s done because what I’m about to tell you has topped EVERYTHING.






Really. Okay, ready for this? Fucker’s combined two of my favorite things to produce one magical product.

Beards + sex = BEARD FUCKING LUBE.

Yeah I said it. BEARD LUBE!!!!!! Don’t believe me? SHAZAAM!!!

Dear Jack Black,

Your product is totally dope and all, but let me show you how wet I can get with just the stroke of your beard. Really, no lube necessary to acquire entrance to this hole.



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