[Fiction] Another Quiet Evening At Home, Part II


Knock, Knock

Five beers later the cops are finally at the door. I say nothing, open the door and they walk in. There are two of them, wearing blue uniforms with guns and mustaches. They’re cops. The slightly taller one says something about this being the fourth time this month they have been to my place. I correct him and let him know that if he’s counting tonight, that would make it five. Both sit down and stare at the pair of pants on the floor. I’m about to explain when the shorter of the two asks if I’ve got anything to drink. We all laugh as I walk to the kitchen and make a couple of whiskeys.

I bring back the drinks; they are good drinkers, taking them down in two pulls. I explain the chicken dance guy and they know him, something about a rock star that played too many ballads. I get another round and when I return the taller cop is on the table doing the chicken dance while the shorter one is swinging his holster in the air. Well, if someone else gets shot at least they won’t have to call the cops.

Knock, Knock

Colin is at the door and walks in, pausing when he sees the cops and then continues. He has come back for the pants. Colin is still not wearing a shirt and grabs a seat on the couch, in between the cops. I go to the kitchen and get them all another round of whiskeys, grabbing myself another beer. When I return they are discussing the Hamptons, but judging from their stories I don’t think any of them have been; instead, rehashing the plotline of Weekend at Bernie’s.  This continues for a while…

Knock, Knock

Sherri is a girl that lived with me for two months. I haven’t seen her for three months. “Where the fuck is she!” she screams over and over, while she moves from room to room, tossing my apartment. Clearly intoxicated there is little I can do other than follow her and hope she doesn’t burn the place down. I step out back into the living room and the taller cop tells me I’d better cooperate, that works best in these situations. Also, don’t give her a gun. Good advice. Eventually she leaves. When I return to the living room all my guests are gone. The pants are still on the floor.

Through the shades I can see the morning light start to shine through. I notice the unfinished glass of red wine next to my chair. I head back to the refrigerator, might as well have one more beer. There’s a good chance someone is coming back for the pants.

[Fiction] Another Quiet Evening At Home


I was 45 years old when I learned to throw a punch. It was a bar, I was drunk and someone said something about something and I really laid into him, an uppercut that caught his chin just right. This is what I’m thinking about as I ease into my recliner. A glass of red sits on the table next to a Bukowski novel; it’s going to be a nice quiet evening at home.

Knock, Knock

The door isn’t even fully open when Collin busts in. I haven’t seen him for months. He’s holding a magnum size bottle of red wine and says something about his band breaking up. He sits down on the couch, same old crazy hair, sticking out from the sides and it’s clear by the way he’s cradling his bottle that this is all he has left. Still, I’ve got shit to do and I’m about to ask him to leave…

Knock, Knock

Two more guys, with even crazier hair bust in. Before I can ask Collin says they are with him. They also sit on the couch and pass the bottle of wine back and forth. I go to the fridge and grab a beer because this is no longer a glass of red night. When I return one of the new crazy guys is standing on a table and has removed his pants. I motion for him to put his pants back on, house rules and all, but he doesn’t hear me and starts to do the chicken dance. Collin looks up; he’s holding the bottle, takes a pull and nods to a song no one can hear. I’m about to kick them all out when the other new crazy guy pulls out a gun and starts waving it around. Predictably it goes off, shooting the guy not wearing pants in the leg. Finally he stops dancing and gets off my table. Apparently he didn’t know the gun was loaded, but that doesn’t matter now. Our ears are ringing and sirens in the distance appear to be getting closer.

Collin puts down the bottle, takes off his shirt and ties it around the leg of the guy that just got shot. The guy is still not wearing pants, just a tattered pair of tighty-whities that are more grey than white. Collin looks at the pants on the floor, then over to me and says I can keep the pants. All three head for the door and then just like that silence. One minute later…

Knock, Knock

It’s Collin again, he forgot his bottle, I hand it to him and he grabs it with two hands, continuing to nod to the song in his head and then leaves. I sit down on my chair and look over at my untouched glass of red and book waiting for me. No, this isn’t going to work for me tonight. I get up, grab a beer from the fridge and wait for the cops to arrive.

Guys I Hate: Winking Guy

Welcome to Guys I Hate, it’s pretty self-explanatory. Got a guy you hate? Drop me a comment – we probably hate a lot of the same guys.


First let me set the record straight, I’m not against all winking. However, I do believe you should be allowed only three winks in your lifetime. Wink a fourth time and your eye sticks shut – just like Mom said it would! This guy, the guy I hate, winks daily, just to let me know what he just said is clever. Guess what? If you have to wink, it’s not! Save your winks for when you really need them: confessing to your priest or attorney after you murdered someone…

Guys I Hate: Gym Grunting Guy

Welcome to Guys I Hate, it’s pretty self-explanatory. Got a guy you hate? Drop me a comment – we probably hate a lot of the same guys.


Just to be clear, I am not a gym guy. I run on the treadmill and that’s pretty much the extent of my gym time. Three to five miles with some very obnoxious rock music blasting into my head and I’m out! It works (I think) for me. Question: How can I have Metallica turned up to 10 and still hear some guy doing squats in the corner? Answer: Unless he’s playing fullback for the Giants I shouldn’t. It’s distracting to me, I always turn, hoping he’s going to be one of those guys you see on YouTube that breaks his back and drops like a bag of potatoes. Hey, a train wreck comes in many shapes and sizes and I’m human, I admittedly can’t look away.

P.S. Okay, it’s not always Metallica, sometimes it’s Poison…please don’t judge.

Review: The Departure “Gateways”


The Departure, a band from Salt Lake City labeled as punk/crossover have released an EP titled Gateways. The band has already flirted with early success, securing opening spots for Cold War Kids as well as playing at several festivals.

The album mixes a lot of genres, not sticking to any one formula; instead, putting their full talents on display. The lead song, “For The Best” should be a staple for your pop-punk playlist.

Check out my full review at MancavePlaybabes.com


  1. For The Best
  2. Incompetence
  3. Gateways
  4. Forget Everything
  5. The Sea, Pt. II
  6. Lonely Eyes
  7. Thoughts


Band Website: http://thedeparturemusic.com/

Facebook: www.facebook.com/thedepartureband
Twitter: www.twitter.com/thedeparturerok
Instagram: @thedeparturerok

Guys I Hate: Guy Who Refuses To Pay For Apps

Welcome to Guys I Hate, it’s pretty self-explanatory. Got a guy you hate? Drop me a comment – we probably hate a lot of the same guys.


We all have that one person, the one that refuses to pay 99 cents for an app you have recommended because they “don’t pay for apps.” Fuck this guy, this is the same guy that spends 14 dollars a day on coffee. God forbid you recommend an app that costs 2 dollars, he will lose it! Actually, I highly recommend doing this on a daily basis to this guy because he’s probably a dick and deserves the harassment.

Review: Everlost US Learns To Let Go

Everlost US Album Cover


Everlost US is an alternative rock project by Jared Kay. Live and Let Go is Kay’s second release, the first an EP that debuted September 2014 received praise from Absolute Punk and AXS Magazine. Listening to this album its clear Kay is both a talented musician and song writer with a knack for communicating pain and experience though both sound and lyric.

The album is a clinic in songwriting and storytelling. From “Breathe” through “These Terrible Hands” you will enjoy the melody and easy going rock as well as feel the pain…

Read the full review at MancavePlaybabes.com


Live and Let Go
Wait For You
What You Wanted
Tell Them They’re Wrong
I’m Doing My Best
These Terrible Hands



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