Our Good Friend Travis America

Travis America had been working on some possible ablum covers for his upcoming Musical Masterpiece. What do you think? Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
1)2)

3)

I apologize in advance. Not for the music obviously as it rocks. I apologize for the filth that I posted. Please do not let your children read our post for atleast 2 weeks until this filth clears. The album will obviously have the appropriate warning stickers if any of this lovely cover art is chosen. Alef! Alef!

I can read Chapter Books! You Can't Read No Chapter Books!

Don't rush into thought. Take a moment and just ease into it. Put your hands on your hips, cock your head back 5 degrees and gaze deeply into the sunset. It will come. Deep Thought. I know most of you out there have not had a deep thought in probably the last.........birth. Seriously, do you remember the last time you were lost in your deepest Thought Chambers? I hadn't visited in quite some time until recently. That is why you have not seen any handsome post's lately, as this most certainly isn't a venue for deep thought. But here are some great venue's for deep thought and meditation that I found over the past 2 weeks:

1) Williamsburg Waterfront - Errr....warehouse space......errrr hipster cracktown......errrr hidden gem. I took my first hike through the barren Paradise of Perfect last Sunday. Start your trip out to this Graffitti Cementarium (pronounced Cem-ment-airy-um) by cruising down Delancey and over the Williamsburg Bridge. It provides some fantastic view's of the city and assorted Brooklynites making deep heartfelt documentaries for our times. I met Bob Worthienstein who was making a documentary of the FDR for his pet hamster. Great Guy. Anyhow, the Waterfront, especially along Kent Street, is one of the last untoched bastians for deep thought in this city. I am not sure what it is but there is some serious Feel to the place. You feel like you are totally alone and possibly the last person on the planet. Until you look up into what looks like a deserted warehouse and there you see a retarded nice apartment. Or turn a corner to find a skate shop with a dope ass half pipe... where you realize that there is actually life out here. I recommend the floral couch located in the overflowing dumpster on 11th street for the deepest of thoughts.
Deep thought rating: 3 Joints!

2) 99 Miles to Philly - Welllllllll what the hell. I decided that on my 2nd ever trip to this East Village (3rd Ave. Between 12th and 13th st) Cheesesteak Haven I would go for a Zen Experience. I enjoyed my first trip there but didn't feel like the complete fat, fuck, lazy, shit waste after eating my steak sandwich like I do after a Karl's Cheesesteak. Sooooo I, readers please don't judge, decided to eat 2 cheesesteaks. Hmm, how do I describe this...... sitting in a rickity little cheesesteak shop with my belt unbuttoned and unable to walk for 25 minutes after finishing my meal........and do it justice. Hmmm. Ah Ha! I was in deep thought!
Deep thought Rating: 1 Blunt

3) Barker Lounger - You know, chillin in the living room with no job. That shit gets deep! Deep Thought Rating: Argyle!

Sooooo I just got word that the BDC "Brooklyn Drinkers Club" is challenging the HBCC to a drink off. Can you believe this? To me this is the equivelant to the Japanese Bombing Pearl Harbor. HBCC of course being the honorable sleeping beast known world wide as AMERICA! Remember what happened when such audacity reared its head in the past. Did someone say Nagasaki. Stay tuned for updates on this breaking story!

if i'm too simple then ya'll don't get the basics

Happy Holidays from the HBCC, or HHFTHBCC!

1.) Visit our friends (aka people we envy) over the break and get to know why we think they’re the best:

You Look Really Great

Passion of the Weiss

The Gay Beach

NYC Balderdash

Velvet Sea

Wachs This Way

Misguided Misadventures in NYC

Low Concept

R2K

Down With Detroit

Bohemian Playboy

the simple mission

Joshua Wildman

Curbed

Eater

Slam X Hype

Pick Your Shoes

YAY Sports

LeBlog

FreeDarko

2.) I asked for some help earlier this week and I’m still hoping a few people out there can throw down that ulta-obscure recommendation that’s going to throw my 12 year middle school reunion into a frenzy. Weigh in with whatcha got.

3.) Yesterday I was chatting with a hot sexy babe online. I mean like really hot and sexy and baby (huh?) Anyways, she says to me:

Dateline15fnaked: hey big boy
HBCC: me?
Dateline15fnaked: ;) yeah you
HBCC: uh huh, ohhhhhh yeah
Dateline15fnaked: i'm wearing orange undies today
HBCC: that sounds sweet
like an orange
or a cumquatt
Dateline15fnaked: ewww, you’re gross, I’m gone. But I’ll leave the backdoor open and a camera crew on hand in case you want to come over. And there’s gonna be lemonade and cookies also…
I totally thought I was gonna score, but, alas, my private school > state university education failed me. Something about the cumquatt comment totally blew it for me.

Disappointed, I headed over to the answer for everything, Wikipedia, to find out just what the fuck went wrong. I searched for cumquatt, and there it was, my glaring error revealed: spelling. Kumquat. Shit. Fuck shit balls. (earmuffs kids).

So I click on the link and there it is, the Kumquat, in all its glory. My interest piqued, I read on about this strange fruit of Earth passion:

“Kumquat- Kumquats are small orange fruits harvested from the crevices of dwarves arses, predominantly in the north west united states. The name is derived from the latin coom, meaning taste, and quat, meaning like foecal matter”

Well then, now I know what grossed out my little hottie: tastes like foecal matter? Gross. Fuck you Kumuat, fuck you in your stupid ass.

4.) Finally, thanks to all you who keep checking in from time to time. Happy Holidays to you and yours, safe travels and visit our friends over at GBEHH.com to hook up a little holiday cheer, email style

the sweet smell of victory, go head and breathe it in like anti-histamine

i tried racking my brain yesterday for something to post on today, something that would sum up my weekend in the fly-over state of O-H-I-O, something that would give you readers an accurate picture of what it's like to experience ground zero during the game of the century, what its like to eat at the flying pizza, what its like to do a bunch of stuff that you totally forget, what its like to drink four red bulls during one football game, what its like to see the bobsled commando eat a bunch of mushrooms and then run around like a chicken with its head cut off right after it ate a bunch of mushrooms....i mean, i tried really really hard to think of something: when i was puking in my friend's bathroom, when i was puking on the airplane, when i was near death at my sisters bathroom in philly, while i was riding the train through PA and into NJ and then into Penn Station, when i got blasted in the face with the stench of the subways again - i really really thought something would come to me.

alas, it wasn't until i emerged from the subway to my beloved LES once again that i was presented with the following photo and a post was formed and i had no problem at all coming up with it...

(man law: american apparel should run advertising for everyone)

wah-wah-wahhhahahahahahaha

for all you buckeye fans

HAPPY WEEKEND HBCC!!
GO BUCKS, BEAT MICHIGAN!!
STAY HANDSOME!!
ALLEZ BOBSLED!!
CHICKEN NOODLES SOUP WITH A SODA ON THE SIDE!!
FREESTYLE!!
THE WORLD FAMOUS JUICE BROS!!
FLYING PIZZA!!

mixtape of the people, for the people, by the HBCC

(Emmitt Smith is Handsome. Boobs McGee is Handsome too)

First off, congratulations to Emmit Smith who won last night’s dancing with the stars. Wow! Is this guy handsome or what?! Besides, beating AC Slater at anything is pretty much phenomenal. Sup now, Zach?

Second, parties.

Okay, so we started talking about this earlier this week, but I passed over one of the quint-e-fucking-ssential aspects of a good party: the music. Yeah, I said it, the music. Namely, the mixtape. Because unless you’re going to hire a DJ (lame) you don’t want to be hunched over your Apple iBook all night changing tracks at randome. It’s usually better (in this case) to get an iTunes playlist all lined up before people come over so you can DJ a little and then put it on automatic at other times.

Really though, good music I think can make or break a party. It’s like working in PR: when things are going right, no one says shit. When things are going wrong, everybody’s got something to say and no one’s having a good time.

Now, this will forever be up for debate: what makes a great mix tape? Sure, there are a ton of other factors to consider (genre, years, party theme, etc. etc. etc.) Well, readers, I’m gonna need your help and I’m going to try to be as specific as possible.

I’m going to take on the DJ duties at my 12 year middle school reunion (I know, a little untraditional, but that’s just how we roll at Our Lady of Sorrows in Farmington Hills, MI) So, I’m trying to put together the ultimate mix tape that’s just gonna throw everybody straight back to 1994 and earlier, when we used to go lace up our roller skates at Bonaventure skate rink or hit the arcade and watch all the Caldeans go crazy on Mortal Kombat or listening to 96.3FM on the radio.

Late 80’s, early 90’s is what I’m thinking here people. (yes, I ‘graduated’ middle school in ’94) But think about it: what a difficult time period to fit into one mixtape. I mean, shit, in just the first four years of the 90’s alone you’ve got two major genres exploding: gangster rap and grunge. Those two alone put you at opposite ends of the spectrum with regard to audiences. Then throw in the waning hair rock thing, the teen idols (Debbie Gibson, anyone?), the emerging boy bands (when did NKOTB hit it?), the R&B groups (boys to men), and some emo in there somewhere (that has never really been my forte).So, okay, enough rambling. Please help me out here. Below is a list that the HBCC has come up with. Your help is greatly appreciated. Feel free to leave artist and song suggestions in the comments section, because I have the feeling that for the people who frequent the HBCC, this kind of thing is right in their wheelhouse. THANKS! (I’ll post the final playlist in like two weeks time once I’m done compiling and building and sculpting and painting my masterpiece. click on the list to enlarge and then click again to magnify)

party time. excellent

(The Castle, The Colonel, The Captain, The Commando)

sometimes you throw a party and take what could be considered the best picture of your 26 year existence on this planet. this was not the case here, but I'll be damned if we weren't on the right track.

first off, props to NYCB for writing some of the truest shit this side of the Hudson River.

second off, yeah, we had a party over the weekend. sorry if you didn't get invited, but its the start of something beautiful and we wanted to try out our skils (scott skiles?) on our closest friends first before we just opened up the whole kitten kaboodle to our blogosphere friends. (its not that we weren't thinking of all you beautiful people who come here and read this from time to time, its just that we still suck at coordiantion and communication and that kind of stuff)

not blow myself here (still saving for the operation to have that last rib removed), but we threw a pretty good party this weekend. considering that we're amatures at doing so, i was moderately impressed. never have there been so many people smushed in an LES tenement building. and you can imagine that the smell of trans-fatty acids from a bucket of fried chicken and a crave case probably contributed to the overall, frenzied level that people reached.

surprisingly, no one threw up. but no one hooked up either, so, okay, i know what you're going to say already senor sexy - it wasn't fucking sexy. whatever. s'all good. i figure in like a month's time when we throw our christmas party, it will be an all-out orgy and we'll have to stock a case of magnum condoms instead of burgers. (speaking of which, free condoms for all you big-footed dudes out there. i ain't lookin, i'm just sayin: come to my friend's party and re-up on your supply:anyways, that whole party thing was well and good and my friends got to meet other friends of mine and it was a nice little collision of friendly worlds short of sitting around a campfire singing koom-by-ya-my-lord. and next time, we'll invite ya'll along, it's just that maybe it won't be in my apartment but at some place a little more conducive to movin and groovin...like my pants for instance. OH SCHAP, schnigggidy SCHNAP, no you di'int...what what, whuh, yeah, tikka tikka WHOHOOOO oohh oohh chheeppyyy meow meow

late breaking LES music alert

Monday night music people, here is my recommendation: get thee to pianos by 8pm to catch my insanely talented friends zach and sami perform with their band gold and gunmetal. pianos is at:

158 Ludlow St (Cross Street: Between Rivington Street and Stanton Street)
New York, NY 10002
(212) 505-3733
Directions: F, V at 2nd Ave

Hope everyone had a handsome weekend. We have some (maybe only one?) photo from our HBCC fall gala, but its a gem nonetheless. Hopefully we'll get that posted up some time in the next willenium.

i give em something to remember like the alamo

So, yeah, it's true: I ran in the ING New York City Marathon yesterday. (and yes, I am going to hell now for posting that picture. but, fuckit, its funny. besides, that woman looks like she's having the time of her life, and its not too far from how I felt when I finished) Thank you for your post, Handsome. Touching. Really. Oh, and Busta Rhymes called. Well actually his lawyers called. They want us to take his name off our website. Know what I say to that? gimme some mo

Right, Hmmmm, anyways. Marathon. THE Marathon. Lots of shit leading up this weekend to reflect on. First would be how to reference the marathon. I know its the ING New York City Marathon, but it's THE marathon, like THE Ohio State University. Cause when you say the marathon, and you're from New York, its not the Boston or the Chicago or the London marathons...Its THE motherfucking marathon. People kept asking me, "Oh you're running a marathon? Which one?" In the time it took you to ask that question, your purse just got stolen on the Broadway Junction platform so wake the fuck up.

Next question: "Oh, you're running the marathon? That's great! Are you training for it?" Okay, I don't know how many people actually sign up for a marathon and then just sit around eating Funyons for a whole summer or whatever, but here's what Lance Armstrong, a real American hero said about it, "I can tell you, 20 years of pro sports, endurance sports, from triathlons to cycling, all of the Tours, even the worst days on the Tours, nothing was as hard as that..." So, I mean, I don't know, who really does sign up for the marathon and not train, cause those people were still finishing while I was eating my first Epsteins burger in like two weeks and having what was like the most enjoyable cigarette since I first smoked one back in high school (rebel).

As far as the race itself went, nothing really funny happened along the way. NYC: you are the most beautiful city in the world and I wanted to cry man tears for like 26.2 miles yesterday as people lined the streets and were nice enough to yell my name that I had pinned to my tank top on a bootleg piece of cut-up t-shirt. In Bay Ridge it was the Italians saying, "Hey, theyre you go bobsled! That's a spicy meatball!" (okay, maybe not for real) And in Queens it was the hipsters saying, "HEY, who loves bobsled? Who loves bobsled?!" And in the Bronx they were like, "Uh, yeah, whatup crackas, welcome to the boogie down. Chicken Noodle Soup with a soda on the side!" (Youtube it.) And back in the 'Hattan? Um, well, going up 1st avenue through the heart of the UES, it was your usual fair of drunks and boisterous fans. Fun, but nothing too remarkable. As bland as you would expect the UES to be - no offense, and thanks for coming out. Then back down 5th Avenue - well, by that time I was 22 miles deep into what was seeming like a bad acid trip in the middle of an Also Sprach Zarasthusta (2001) jam at Alpine Valley, so people were talking, but I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Actually, I just kept my head down and tried not to make eye contact - again, kinda like a bad acid trip, but more fun! errrr

Next thing I know, I'm blazing down the path in Central Park, my thighs pretty much reaching Chernobyl meltdown proportions and Handsome's words were echoing in my head, "bobsled, BOBsled, BOBLSED!!!" And fuck if I didn't finish a fucking marathon. Me. Blogger. Binge drinker. Chronic smoker. And now...athlete. It was a great day indeed. Again, love you NYC, you da best.

I'll leave you with one observation: if you ever go to watch THE marathon, or any marathon for that matter, it is NOT, by no fucking stretch of the imagination, okay to stand at the first mile marker and yell, "Good job, keep it up, only 25 more miles to go!!" Motherfucker

26 Miles of Bobsled

Twenty Six Fucking Miles.........Bobsled. 4 fucking hours.......bobsled. Allow me to comment on the upcoming Apocalypse that is to be Bobsled. If you ever doubted, hit up the Verizano, Bklyn, Queens, or the Hattan and check out Bobsled prove why he is THE Commando. Sucka is running the ING. Yeah, the ING NYC Marathon. He is has been respectably discreet on the subject. Handsome isn't discrete. Bobsled is running the fucking Marathon.

Two days ago I went to St. Marks Church to some poetry party, celebration of the anniversary of the death of Allan Ginsberg. As I found, this guy was a pretty profound mother....He practically invented free speach beatnick style. An old hippy bastard told me that the Beatles spelled their name BEA....instead of Beetles because of a tribute to the beatnick movement. Not a bad thought, huh. Anyhow, this guy covered some serious lyrical ground. He invented the poem about nothing that filled 10 minutes of rediculous monologue of detail, distortion and retardation. I couldn't help but to think of Busta Rymes. No seriously. Have you listened to this guy's poetry. Fast, insane, specfic, graphic, American! I dare you to know what I am spillin' Let me give it a try:

Verizano with bobsled
steel iron pittsburgh
Kenya, Ethopia, Harlem
Muttled Death Sunset
Wheelchair Race Arms S
weat Hell Not Me
Bobsled Track to Bedsty
Hot Sunflower Whiskey
Asphalt Asics Endorphin
Twisted Colon of Hurt
Black Bosum of Nas
Scrotum of Peter
Open up While Folding
Bumper Pass Out
Miracle You made it Busta
HBCC Hustla........

Ok, so that was my tribute to Mr. Allen Ginsberg and the great running legend Bobsled Commando. Prefontaine can suck my back shorts!

and the music keeps on playing, on and on

The Handsome One and I have taken a brief high-ate-us (high-hate-us?).

Call it a marathon weekend taper, or call it just the new apartment move in and slow downs, or call it the one week till Veterans Day jitters, or call it the end of Daylight Savings Time sleepies, or call it the Rogan Josh on the toilet so I can't blogs, or call it gloat like a bloated eskimo on seal blubber cause we wrote 100 stupid posts, or call it a super bobsled run with no breaks...whatever. We'll be back Monday with thoughts on all sorts of stuff, but for now, in the infamous words of the black dude combing the desert in Space Balls,

"WE AIN'T GOT SHIT!"

wait, that's not even the line, is it? ahhhhhh, fuckit.