Fuck you, Real Housewives of South Boston! This project was born down on A Street and raised up on B street.
Okay, so another long-fought battle with the yuppies has been the concept of using trash to save parking spaces after a snow storm. Yuppies think they’re badasses because they move the space-savers to use the spot for themselves, but true South Bostonians win out in the end with a few swipes of their car key to that blue Prius. Anyway, the South Bostonians also won out on Menino, as we now have an excuse to get rid of all those broken TV’s the garbage men refused to pick up. Thanks Menino, you fucking douche!
But you don’t have to take my WORD for it! (Reading Rainbow reference) Billy Baker, from the Boston Globe, did some research in this article.
Yesterday, Fenway Bark founder Jane Fulton announced, amid several paragraphs of mean-spirited sarcasm and bullshittery, that the fancy kennel she is trying to open in Southie is changing prospective locations.
In case you’ve missed our commentary on Fenway Bark thus far, it’s first here and then here, and kind of here. Unfortunately, our disagreements with Ms Fulton et al, which recently resulted in Fenway Bark’s permanent Shit List-ification, have descended in tone to the level of ad hominem verbal aggression. So, with that in mind, I’d like to say that Fenway Bark is gay. Gay, gay, gay. Continue reading
Recently, the Staker’s critics have been engaging in somewhat of a feeding frenzy. I can call it that because we don’t get your standard, run-of-the-mill internet trolls on this blog. We only get people who actively dislike us specifically. And I love that! It means that I’m getting my point across.
To offer a little background, the Staker has garnered Shack heat for making the following two innocuous assertions:
As my hetero-life-mate, there are many reasons why I love Staker. I have known him for nearly 17 years, and I remember vividly the day we met in our little league coach’s apartment in the Old Colony Housing Projects. But of all the reasons why I would love this hairy little grease-ball, I would have to say that I love him most for his ability to piss people off, and attract more violent energy than a hillbilly wearing steel overhauls.
What can also be a tragic character flaw really pays off here on The Shack, and the amount of heat we’ve received for his March 11th post, Passing Judgment on Fenway Bark, has lead us to make new enemeies of Zeltsonic proportions (mainly because his post is number 6 when you Google “fenway bark.” That can’t be good for business. Oops!). Now we don’t really care if you take your dog to a spa, just like we don’t care if you go down to Bella Sante on Newbury Street for a botox and Brazillian. The point is that there are many more practical uses for the limited property here in South Boston.
If you live in Southie, or come here often for your refills of oxies and heroin, then you’ve come to know three names rather intimately: Patrick Brennan, Nick Collins, and Michael McGee. No, these men aren’t distillers of fine scotch and Irish whiskeys, they are candidates for State Representative in Suffolk County’s 4th District. Now you might ask me, “The Drizzle?! You’re in the toy department. You post about dead celebrities, specials, and alcohol(ic) related issues…not politics. What happened to that fuckthatitude?” Well I’ll tell you, children. I’m posting about politics because I now know what it feels like to be a pork loin at a Bar Mitzvah: Everyone wants a piece of you, but they don’t know how to feel right about it in the morning (“stripper at a bachelor party” and “underage twink at the Tony Awards” are also acceptable analogies).
Well, four days late and several hundreds of dollars short, we find ourselves on the other side of Bachus’ most important day, disguised as an innocent Catholic celebration of a wonderful man named Patrick. I think he drove child molesters out of Ireland in the 60’s or something.
Yuppies and yuppy hoverers,
Very disappointing St. Paddy’s Day. First of all, a couple of rain drops and no one shows up. I have to say it was great for us because no one showed up to our local, and we had it all to ourselves…and we had a great time. Second of all, you had to make up for your yuppy-douche-bagness on the real date (That would be the 17th of March) by making yourselves totally obnoxious. Bumping and pushing your way to the bar, asking my skinny friend to push over on his f%&*ing bar stool because you needed a seat. (I can’t make this shit up.)
We here at Sugar Shack Southie have collected a backlog of Police Blotters that we’ve been saving up since we bought this domain name. We also have an old police scanner handed down from Drizzle’s grandmother from her bussing days. So be prepared for unedited, hilarious audio clips. It probably causes testicular cancer, but its all part of the job. Here is what we have so far…