Hey Phillies, would you mind just playing the rest of your games on the road? CB Park is so nice, it seems like such a waste to have a team like you playing in it when we could have like kickball games and picnics and stuff there.

To the dumb chick who spilled red wine on me last night at McGillan’s: after you bumped me with your elbow for the third time and excused yourself (this all before before the wine incident), don’t you think it might have a decent idea to quit swinging your elbow onto my table? Good work.

Continue reading “Beware my wrath” →

Do you notice that I’m wearing my army fatigues? Do you want to know why? Because this is WAR! I got so pissed off at McGlinchey’s Wednesday night, I just had to write about it, and since that moron Goodtimes is the only person who will pay a talented writer like me what I deserve, I’m putting it right here on his hokie website. I know what you’re thinking, “Bobby, people are supposed to be pissed off at McGlincheys!” But you’re missing the point. I’m hanging with Moose and Edge after their performance at the Black Sheep last night (I’ve been hanging out with only black people since white people started flipping their collars up), and the owner of McGlinchey’s comes up to me and says, real mean-like, “Don’t you ever bring an outside drink into my bar again!”

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Well, I made my first descent into the disaster that is the annual Philly Film Festival last night. The collection of short films I saw was called “The Philadelphia Experimental”. I thought that perhaps a more apt title would have been “The Philadelphia Sucksperimental”. Apparently, by it’s very definition, an experimental film is one that is absolutely awful. There was one, called “Lovebirds in Hell”, that looked like something my sister might have done when she was 13, if she had possessed a smaller brain and absolutely no sense of creativity. It was these two girls smoking a cigarette, looking forlorn, and then one of them goes to a corner and begins pouting. “Yibadee, yibadee, yibadee, uh, That’s all Folks!” Then there was one in which a bike messenger rides on a carless street, and a sign comes up, saying “Imagine a world with no cars”. Yeah, well if there were no cars, there would be no road for the stupid bike messenger to ride on! I felt like I was watching a bad Mitsubishi commercial. Then, there was one in which a bunch of asian women are swimming in a pool. About halfway through this film, I found myself staring at the exit sign on the door, because it was infinitely more interesting than what was on the screen. Oh, and apparently this film was supposed to represent French colonialism. Could someone take the pseudo intellectual who came up with this bulls*** outside and beat the living s*** out of him? Thanks.

Continue reading ““You Just Got Pittsnogled” by Bobby Badtimes” →

Remember how I used to hate McGillan’s Olde Ale House, because they kicked me out on New Year’s Day? Well, now I got a new beef. I went to McGillan’s on Wednesday for karaoke. I had hoped to do “Flashdance…What a Feeling” because I rock that song. But a bum ankle made the accompanying dance number all but impossible. So I just watched. Ok, here’s the part where I start to get pissed. Some chick goes up there and does the Celine Dion song from Titanic. As if that wasn’t bad enough, a bunch of people in the crowd, instead of being disgusted and throwing silverware at her, starts singing along. EVEN A BLACK GUY! I don’t know about you, but I’ve kind of put black people up on a pedestal of koolness. Well, that all came crashing down. As did my opposition to the death penalty, because every single person who sings along to Celine Dion should be executed. It will greatly enhance the gene pool.

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First of all, I wanted to say hello to all twelve Pats fans who made it down to Philorida. And I wanted to congratulate Sportscenter for rounding up another twenty Floridians and paying them $20 apiece to pretend that they were Pats fans for their post game roundup, so the set wouldn’t be completely silent. You Bostonians support your team almost as much as Oakland supports the Golden State Warriors! Way to go!

Continue reading “Boston Blasted by Bitter Bobby Badtimes” →

Does anyone really give a s*** about Saturn’s moon? I mean, seriously. We can’t afford to lower class sizes, we can’t afford to adequately protect our troops in Iraq, but we can afford to help the Europeans send a spaceship to Saturn’s moon? And oooh, aren’t those pictures pretty! Almost like grey mud! I say, no more money for this stupid space exploration unless we go somewhere where we will definitely find aliens.

Continue reading “Beware My Wrath!!! by Bobby Badtimes” →

Alright, 2005 is here, and I’m already pissed off. First of all, Philadelphia Weakly has gotten so pathetic it hardly even seems worth mentioning. I mean, the cover story, the cover story is about a horny Asian kid with a video camera!!! That’s it!!! That’s the whole story! I just gave away the plot and the ending! I’m not kidding! There’s nothing else to it!!! There’s an asian kid who likes Italians and has a video camera, and he sometimes go to Delilah’s. If you read the entire story and can glean any more information than what I’ve just given you, I’ll buy you a beer. Un-freaking-believable. The only thing that the Weakly has going for it is Jessica Pressler, and she’s currently getting sued by some blueberry heir for a million dollars because she teased him in her article. What? You can’t sue somebody for hurting your feelings, jerk-off!!! In return for you being such an idiot, I’m calling on all Johnny Goodtimes fans to stop eating blueberries. The great Blueberry Boycott of 2005 has begun! Spread the word. Boy, those people in charge of college football sure know what they’re doing, don’t they? I mean, first this BCS system they come up with works like a charm, as only three teams finish the season undefeated, and then they think that football fans just can’t get enough Ashlee Simpson. What? How about a Wham! reunion at next year’s Orange Bowl? I’m sure football fans would love it. Oh, and here’s a piece of advice for everybody: If you’re sort of casually dating someone for a couple of months, don’t bother getting them a cheesy personalized gift as sort of a cute gag. Because that will be roughly the time they stop returning your calls and then you’re stuck with a crappy mug with this girl’s name on it serving as a reminder of what a hosebag you are every time you have a cup of coffee. At least that’s what I hear. My name is Bobby Badtimes, Beware my Wrath!!!

P.S. You don’t think that blueberry dude can sue me for calling him a jerk-off, do you?

Here’s a story in the Daily News about Johnny’s favorite hangout, Manyunk.