About the Creators

Jack "Porcelain Crusher" Berg
When he is not destroying bathrooms elsewhere, Jack resides at the University of Miami. Once considered to be a hindrance, Jack has embraced his lactose intolerance with open arms, and lots of baby wipes. He is going to be a pilot in the greatest Air Force in the world, his only concern pooping at 36,000 Feet. He won Mr. Universe and the Nathans hot dog eating contest in the same year. He is known as a mountain guide in the wildernerness of West Milford where he fought off a drunk naked teenager with a pillow and a cot. He has won the prestigious "rookie of the year" two years in a row at Club Weems. He regularly dines with Sean Connery and Bruce Willis.

G "That doesn't smell like mud" Money
Coming from a long line of destructive doodie makers, Gary is a legacy learner. He has inherited skills through DNA that most would kill for, posers have trained for years to try and duplicate his poo prowess and failed. They don't teach what he knows. He is currently a coach at a northeast college and when he isn't blowing up bathrooms he builds houses for the homeless, finds cures for constipation, and visits the nations capital, because he is that patriotic. Some of his notable achievements include being the 12-time World Champion of the annual Lavalette Bocce Tournament. He is also considered to be a Crabs Claw alcohol connoisseur and an asamble in the wine world. He once kicked Arnold Shwartzenegger in the balls for eating his cannolli.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Return to NJ

Men,

It has been months, maybe years, since my last post and I apologize for my absence. The art of the smartphone has opened us up to blogging on the go, in particular on the throne.

I am going to return with a few notes about my return to NJ this weekend. Dinner with the family last night consisted of fried calamari, stuffed peppers, and clams for appetizers. Followed by a pork chop stuffed with mozzarella and broccoli rabe. All while throwing back some homemade vino. At this point in the meal I reached a serious decision. Full...yes. However, I almost felt like if I didn't have a dessert and coffee that I wouldn't be able to shit. So I went for it. A tartufo or "bomba" as it's called in Italy and a cup of coffee. Well Men, the decision was a good one.

This morning I woke up, walked the dog, and within 10 minutes I was ready to explode. As I sat on the throne I couldn't help but remember my clutch dessert decision and be thankful.

Moral of the story, know your own stomach. Don't question it, don't fight it, listen to your stomach.

G
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