No, Not Bobby Badtimes! Not today!

Sorry to disappoint. I’m sure all you hosebags thought that with all this press that this week was just gonna be one big Johnny Goodtimes Lovefest. Well bad news, suckers. Badtimes is here to rain on the old parade. First of all, Johnny, the scavenger hunt was a great idea. Everybody in this city just loves running around on 103 degree days trying to get pressed pennies from the Seaport Museum. You blockhead. And gee whiz, why not schedule it on a busier vacation week? Nevermind. THAT WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE!

Was I the only one who just couldn’t get enough of this sentence in Johnny’s write up on Rubin’s blog: “To afford the vanity slot, he waited tables in period costume at City Tavern”. At least Johnny finally came out and admitted that he once took a job where he dressed up like an 18th century fairytale pirate. Have you been to that place, the City Tavern? I recommend it, but only if you get your hands on some really great acid first.

A quick message to GOD: I’ll say my prayers every night for the rest of my life if you strike down Pat Robertson with lighting. I’ll become a priest if you also strike down Celine Dion.

Hey Terrell Owens: They don’t come any smaller than that.

Went to the Jersey Shore for the first time this summer. It was so relaxing: the sand, the surf, the greasy hair, the $7 cover to crappy bars, the girls whose lifelong dream is to be the next Nicole Richie, the enormous collection of Dorito bags and Gatorade bottles washing up on the beach. What a state! Can’t wait to go back!

Click here to see what I think Johnny Goodtimes is doing with his whole “me against Larry Platt” thing.

Hey washer and dryer: why are you still in my house? You haven’t worked in over a year. And yet you sit there, giving me an excuse to set down on top of you a variety of trinkets that i would otherwise have to store in a more organized fashion. You are making my house a mess! I am disgusted by your actions!

Hey Johnny, I love how your photos always show you with a martini in your hand when you probably drink about 2 martinis a year. Poser!

Hey Dunkin’ Donuts, your understanding of the english language is an embarrasment to yourself and to your dunkinG doUGHnuts.

My name is Bobby Badtimes. Beware My Wrath!