Moldy Bagels: Episode 2 (Part Three)

I'm trying to establish a format where each half-hour episode contains two cartoons: One Crapstick Doodle, and one new one. I'm only doing one Crapstick Doodle because I want to cash in on my old work enough to fill a few minutes, but I don't want to get lazy and completely recycle a full half hour of content, because then there'd be no fucking point in making this show in the first place. I want to do two cartoons per episode because I think it breaks up the action nicely. As you've probably figured out by now, I'm doing literally everything alone here because I don't have any friends or willing actors to help out, so 90% of the live action stuff is just me talking to a stationary camera, and 30 straight minutes of that is pretty unbearable to watch. Most people would tell you that 3 straight minutes would be unbearable to watch, but that's neither here nor there.

I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to go ahead with the Emo Rap Fury idea, but I ultimately went with it because I thought having "Emo" as a Youtube tag would draw viewers to this video like flies to so much warm shit. The whopping 31 views I've accumulated tells me that my blatant buzzword pandering might not have paid off.

The closing part of the video was fun to make. I filmed myself trying to drink beer and talk to nobody, and then I watched the video with a headset microphone on and talked to myself. I like how it turned out because this time it actually sounds like my off-camera voice is actually having a conversation with my on-camera self. This part also marks one of the few times it makes me happy that my girlfriend doesn't watch the show. Normally it hurts my feelings that the person I've been with for 3 and a half years doesn't seem to take any kind of interest in what I do, but this time it's good because she has no idea I spit a mouthful of Foster's on the living room carpet.

Moldy Bagels: Episode 2 (Part Two)

Hell yeah, bitch. If you've seen my cartoons you've already seen the first sketch in this segment so feel free to skip that one. I like the Movie Forgetter sketch in the middle because it's a fun idea, and I get a chance to rock out my two favorite accessories: my badass White Sox shirt and my pink Razor phone. It's pink because it used to belong to my sister and she gave it to me when my old phone stopped working. People keep telling me that my phone is gay and I need to either buy a new one or buy a new skin, and I say two things to that: Number one, the phone is metallic pink, which is badass. If it was hot pink you'd have a point, but metallic pink rules and is totally not gay. Number two, I firmly believe that being so fashion conscious that you'd spend money to change the color of your fucking phone is way more girly and gay than owning a pink hand-me-down.

When I filmed the Movie Forgetter sketch I was sure the cops were going to come to my house. During the part that I was wearing a hockey mask covered in fake blood while waving around a prop gun, one of my neighbors saw me through the glass kitchen door and just stared at me. I stared back at him, then put the gun down on the counter and waved at him. He backed away with kind of a scared look in his eye. In a stroke of incredible luck, the cops never showed up. I'd be able to easily explain the mask and gun, but the rape slaves in the basement would be a whole 'nother story.

Moldy Bagels: Episode 2 (Part One)

I go entire months without ever updating this blog because nobody reads it, and nobody reads it because I never regularly update. It's a vicious cycle. It also doesn't help that the blog is unfunny and boring. I'm in the process of writing the fourth episode of the public access show right now, so I'll take a minute to finally post the second and third episodes here. This is part one of the second episode:

Check out the intro. Do you like how our mini-fridge and microwave are both right next to the front door? I finally got around to giving that stuff to Goodwill, but I'll be damned if that wasn't the classiest home decorating decision ever made.

If neither of these sketches work, at least the shot of me belting out Wanted Dead or Alive in my boxers will dispel the grossly wrong myth that I'm really skinny. I asked three people at work how much they think I weigh. Two of them said 160 and another said 165, which are just a tad underweight for a 6'5" man and only off by 50 and 45, respectively. Then again, maybe people will be too blinded by my staggering paleness to even see accurately. The real kicker is one hour in the sun gives me a perfect tan, yet I haven't gone outdoors since 1998. God likes to give gifts to people who don't use or appreciate them because he's kind of a dick.