Meet Today’s Guest Blogger: Notsewfast

Babies be Bloggin'

2 years 7 months and one day ago, on the banks of a mighty catfish hatchery in Bryan, TX a child was born to a leather-skinned woman and a Turkish gentleman with a sexual proclivity for hairy feet. After an unusually brief 4 month gestation, the delivering veterinarian declared the child to be healthy and parvo-free.

Proud parents

On the day that I was brought home, I learned to speak. On the seventh day of my life I insulted my father’s fondness for the film ‘Elizabethtown’ and that afternoon I was abandoned on the side of highway 190 with $13, a 24 pack of Huggies, and a baby bottle full of RC Cola. Stranded on the side of an east Texas highway, I knew my only option was to hitchhike to the nearest big city and work to put milk in my bottle.

I Was Born a ramblin' baby

Hitchhiking was surprisingly easy for a 1 week old. I was quickly picked up by a 55 year old trucker named Carla, who by sheer coincidence had continued to lactate for years after having her last child 10 years earlier. With my cunning ability to steal baked good from convenience stores and her mammary glands, neither of us ever went hungry while traveling across the lone star state. On my first birthday, Carla ran dry and we took it as a sign to part ways. I had grown a healthy set of teeth and she longed to be as free as she once was in the days before we met. We divided the paltry resources we had acquired together: $97 in nickels which we’d found in payphone coin slots, 4 bottles of baby powder, and a 2 disk box set of Van Halen’s greatest hits. Carla dropped me off at a Wendy’s in Austin and I never saw her again.

The land of milk and honey dipping sauce

I proved to have an acumen for anything business/hamburger related and within 2 months I was the 2nd largest franchise owner of Wendy’s restaurants in the southwest.  This period of my life was magnificent. I was knee-deep in kid’s meal toys and Frosties and nobody could tell me when to go to bed.

3 months later I woke up next to a 45 year old prostitute in a haze of canola oil smoke, hungover from a night of freebasing chicken nuggets and drinking coca-cola straight from the syrup bag. I had passed out trying to fish a french fry out of the floor drain near the heat lamps. That place had become my prison, and it was time for me to check out. I sold my stake to a kindly old man, bought a top-of-the-line big wheel and pedaled myself to a place where the air was clearer: Colorado.

Easy Peddler

I found Videogum while I was reflecting on the events of my life that had led up to that moment. Trying to prove that my father was wrong and that Elizabethtown was not ‘Our generation’s Casablanca’, I stumbled upon Gabe’s WMOAT review of the film and I knew that I had finally found a home.

These days I spend most of my time learning to use the toilet and playing with buckets of sand, which has kept me SUPER busy. When Gabe offered to let me drive his blog for a day, I immediately accepted. Only later did I find out that we have to keep the blog moving above 55 mph if we want to survive. I didn’t know what I was in for when I signed up, but at least I’m really drunk. If you want to send me hate mail/tips to twitter you can do that in addition to [email protected]

Let’s Roll.