Bruschetta, a Grease Fire and a Siesta – How Was Your Weekend?


June 6 was our ten-year wedding anniversary. As you know, we were a little busy. June 7 marked our sixteenth year of our first date. So we still managed to celebrate on an anniversary date.

Before you roll your eyes and think we missed a big year, let me explain that we’re going to Chicago in July to celebrate appropriately. In the meantime, we enjoyed a terrific meal at Fullerton’s Roman Cucina. If you haven’t been, go. It’s a quaint, dark Italian restaurant with white lights, leather booths and a good-looking staff (for men and women). Start with the bruschetta. It’s ridiculously good.

We considered catching The Internship but I pictured the old head nod move in a dark theater, so we settled on Yogurtland back at the house.


My mother-in-law took the twins to her house as my wife was scheduled to work and I had a “play date,” as my wife likes to tease, with some buddies.

As I came upon the 91 freeway I saw a sea of cars and brake lights. I looked at my phone and noticed an accident near an off ramp, so I attempted to get up to Green River by taking side streets. I hit a cul-de-sac and a parking lot for a business with an iron fence that separated about 20 gathered people from a white SUV that had gone down an embankment, a helicopter parked near an accident scene and at least five fire engines. As I drove upon the scene I saw maybe one hundred people out of their cars walking along the 91 freeway. Some had cameras, some were talking with others and all were trying to figure out what happened.

As did I. I got out of my car with every intention to ask the others among me. As I approached I got shy. Some seemed genuinely upset. I shamefully snapped a pic as well. A woman in front of me answered her phone and a few seconds later began to cry hysterically. She bent at the waist crying “No, no, no” repeatedly. I knew someone had died in the accident, and my guess was she knew the person(s). I got back in my car determined to take another freeway to my friend’s.

Later that night I found an article which explained that white SUV somehow veered off the freeway and struck a sedan parked on the shoulder with a 19-year-old male in the back seat with his seat belt on. That young man died.

I left the scene feeling somber, and I couldn’t kick that feeling the rest of the night. Typically car accidents don’t bother me. I have a job because of car accidents. But this was different. Maybe because I saw that woman crying on the phone, or I was so close to the scene, or because I see death in a different light now – whatever the reason – it shook me up.

My friend Munky is becoming a culinary creator, sparked with mentoring from his mom. We went to the Meat House in Brea which markets itself as a neighborhood butcher. The staff was super friendly and helpful and they had a big choice of meats. I settled for some steak tips and carne asada. Munky picked up some peppered bacon to chop up for his red potatoes, ranch and cheese side dish, which was so frickin’ good.

Munky calmly burns everything down.

Munky calmly burns everything down.

While grilling, he almost burned down the neighborhood. Pro tip: make sure to remove the bacon grease that catches in the aluminum foil before closing the lid.

We threw down some beers, caught up and watched both the Angels lose to the Boston Red Sox in the night-cap of a double-header and the Los Angeles Kings lose to the Chicago Blackhawks (it’s hockey, people) in the conference finals.


My wife and I met my mother-in-law at Super Mex in Fullerton to pick up the twins. The joy of seeing them again is so pure and satisfying to the soul. They were excited to see us and in a great mood. But it quickly vanished when Gray started yelling in the restaurant and not listening.

After some shopping we made it home and the four of us managed a three-plus hour nap. It was divine.

I watched the Game of Thrones finale, which was uneventful compared to last week’s shocker. Until April of 2014, GoT (my guess). I bid ye farewell.

Jax Remembrance, June 24

Jax's last Angel game.

Jax’s last Angel game.

On June 24 we will be gathering at Mountain Gate Park in Corona for a casual time of remembrance to share memories, socialize and just be together. When it gets dark (roughly 8:30 or a little later) we will show a short film of pictures and home movies under the stars, so bring a blanket or some chairs. It will be very informal.

Mountain Gate Park’s Field 1 is where Jax excelled in his year of tee-ball. We think this is a perfect place to remember him. However, there is a chance that we can’t secure the place due to prior reservations. If the location does change, we will do our best to let everyone know ahead of time.

We would love to have everyone come and celebrate with us what were the best four years of our lives. All are welcome so please pass this along and share with others. If you have any questions you can reach me at, or leave a comment.

Jax Remembrance

7:30 p.m – 10 p.m.

Field 1 at Mountain Gate Park

3100 S. Main St, in Corona, 92881

Shattered Faith, Part II

This is going to be weird. I’m going to open up about some stuff that will make you judge my faith, my strength, my mental/emotional stability and question whether you will keep reading this site, or even talk to me without looking at me differently. I just ask that you read with an open mind, without judgement and with love.


“Who here lost a young boy that drowned?” Theresa asked as she stood at the front of the stage with her platinum blone hair and flashy disco ball-like high heels, which now function for me similarly to the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock for Gatsby.

No one answered, so she inquired again. My heart pounded. My face felt sort of numb.

“In this section, right here. Someone lost a young boy that drowned.” With her arms extended straight and parallel, she pointed at our section.

Holy shit, this is happening. Everything I wished for is happening. My wife and I raised our hands in unison. But we were five levels up from the stage, sitting in the second to last row of the theater.



Towards the end of last summer, with encouragement from a friend and a thirst for something, anything that would help me believe in heaven again, I watched an episode of Long Island Medium on the cable channel TLC. For those that don’t know, the show follows a medium from Long Island, Theresa Caputo, as she helps the living communicate with loved ones that have crossed over (died).

I recorded any episode I could find on my DVR and watched alone. Whereas I was okay sobbing while soaking up some gut-wrenching episodes, my wife wasn’t ready to watch. My skepticism reminded me that this was a TV show. It’s cool to believe Caputo could really communicate with the dead and bring comfort and closure to the living, but what if it’s just all for show?

I continued to watch with an open mind, and Caputo continued to blow me away with her episodes. Her ability to bring up specific details she could never know with love and positivity while at the same time giving honor to God hooked me. A practicing Catholic, Caputo walks a curved line of traditional Christian beliefs and alternative spiritual theorem. She mixes in a typical Italian New Yorker stereotype and a charming naivety that warms the soul.

What if is this is true? Then I will see Jax again. He is walking with me. He knows my sorrow, my guilt and how much I miss him.

This show brought me peace. It gave me hope at a time when I had nothing.

The Show

About six weeks ago our friend, who is a big fan of the show and wrote in to TLC to get us on the show for a reading, text me that Theresa Caputo was coming to the west coast. She found available tickets at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts. I asked my reluctant wife if she wanted to go on June 6, our tenth wedding anniversary. Romantic, huh? A few hours later I bought tickets at the back of the theater, the only ones left.

My seat at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts. AKA BFE.

My seat at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts. AKA BFE.

The theater seats 1,700 people spread across five floors with box seating that flanks the main stage. Our seats were on that fifth level, to the right of the stage if facing it and in the second to last row. Binoculars would’ve been appropriate.

The night before I spoke to Jax for about 10 minutes. Typically I cry when I talk to him, but that night I felt calm. I matter-of-factly explained what we were doing and that this woman Theresa could speak with him. I advised that there were going to be a lot of people there that wanted to speak with their passed loved ones, and that he needed to push his way to the front to reach Theresa. I asked him to be strong, because his mom and I ache to hear from him.

Last night my wife and I picked up our friend and met my mother-in-law in Cerritos for the show. The venue, a beautiful site which I highly recommend checking out an event,  was packed with middle age women, which shot my blood pressure up and required soothing deep breaths to keep from elbowing the ones that couldn’t seem to figure out that I was standing against a wall so that they wouldn’t walk in to me.

Caputo started the show praising God for her gift, explaining how she operates and curbing our expectations for the night. She told us Spirit was ready to work earlier than she expected so she got right to it.

My Experience

“Who here lost a young boy that drowned?” That’s how she opened the whole freaking thing. There’s 1,697 other people in here, I’m sure she’s not just speaking to us, I thought. Then she asked that second time. What the shit? I’m stuck up here in the boonies. Short of jumping off the balcony she wasn’t going to see us waving our hands.

Caputo moved on to other spirits communicating to her. About 45 minutes later, after moving around the lower level of the theater followed by a camera man and microphones, Spirit led her to ask who had a necklace with a thumb print. I didn’t think much of it until no one raised their hand, that I saw at least. I looked to my left and saw my mother-in-law tugging the chain around her neck. At the end was a flat charm with Jax’s thumb print. I totally forgot she had that keepsake.

What the hell is happening? Is my little boy, the first loved one to step forward, trying for a second time? Is he fighting for us? I felt helpless.

“Does anyone have an anniversary of some kind today?” Caputo inquired. Oh c’mon! My wife raised her hands, both of them. Just before the show I snacked on a sandwich in the parking lot and our friend snapped a photo of my wife and I sharing our “anniversary dinner” and posted it on Facebook. Again, no one else said it was their anniversary.

This can’t be coincidence, can it? I mean, it can, I guess. We’re showing up despearately hoping to hear from Jax. I could turn around a lot of things Caputo said that night to relate to us so that I felt better. But these three things were too specific. And NO ONE ELSE affirmed her messages.

I believe it was Jax. I have to. That’s what faith is, right? Belief that isn’t based on proof.

As far as Caputo goes, I utterly believe everything she did that night is true, real and a gift from God. It’s impossible to know much of the stuff she asked the audience as their loved ones communicated with her. She nailed the dead’s personality to a tee, knew about tattoos hidden behind clothing and detailed some horrific ways that loved ones died.

A Real Account

In late summer or early fall I told my mom about the comfort I found with the Long Island Medium. In November she emailed me a story she found posted by a woman on a message board at the MISS Foundation. The woman explained how she attended a Caputo show and her daugther came through and communicated to her.

My mom emailed the woman and formed a common bond. Her daughter also drowned.

“I questioned heaven every day, wanting to believe but also thinking why, why why?” wrote Jill Ritts to my mom. “Now I can honestly say that I have ZERO doubt that my daughter is really really with me, everyday. It is such a sense of relief.”

With Jill’s permission I’ve included her story, which she wrote three days after her Caputo experience. Because of her post, and my mom emailing to let me know about it, my faith took its first step towards restoration.


The showroom at the Tropicana showroom’s 2000 seats was sold out. We were seated on the mezzanine level closer to the back. We luckily had the first four seats in our aisle and the Duffy’s let me have the aisle seat. The stage had a table and chair and large screen projector. I was so nervous and kept telling myself that Madison didn’t stand a chance of coming through when there were so many other people here. I convinced myself that I didn’t care; I would be just as happy to watch other people get read.

When Theresa came on stage she explained that she didn’t like sitting on the stage and would be walking around and listening for messages, and would go to the person whose spirit on the other side was taking to her. No calling out or standing up, she would come to you. She told us that she could not possibly read everyone in the audience.

She started in the front row and proceeded to read about 3 people, one of which was a very distraught mother who had lost her daughter and now her daughter would have been 5. I knew at that moment that I was supposed to be comforted by that reading and that my Madison couldn’t get through!

Theresa then walked up to the middle aisle, about 20 rows down from where I was sitting and said “there is someone here with a very specific tattoo of their child, like a portrait of their face”

Liz hit me and told me to raise my hand and I did so tentatively but a man down close to where Theresa was standing actually stop up and said he had his son’s face tattooed on him, I dropped my arm and Theresa proceeded to read him but then got interrupted and looked up into my direction, Still 20 rows away and said:

“No, there is a little girl here and she is showing me a very specific tattoo.” Theresa was holding her left wrist and looking toward me.

I raised my hand and said “I have a tattoo on my wrist but it is not a portrait.” She said “But it is something specific to your child.” I said “It is her name on my wrist.” She said “Well you can’t get more specific than that! And what’s up with the butterfly? Do you communicate with her through butterflies?” I had long sleeves on and she could not see my tattoo of Madison’s name and a butterfly on my left wrist.

I was handed a microphone from an unseen woman but was shaking so bad, I could not stand up. Theresa walked a little closer and said to anyone, “who is Madeline?” Me and another woman both raised our hands. She asked “And she is showing me the number 3?” I said “That’s me; my daughter was 3 when she died.” Theresa walked right up to me, camera man trailing and said “and the necklace you wear, she is showing me something on the necklace.”
It was under my shirt and I pulled it out and said it is a butterfly also.” Theresa said there is something more specific on the necklace” I said “Yes her initials are engraved on the back.”

Then Theresa said “what about her hair? She is showing me her hair”
I said “It was dark?”
She said “No she is showing me a locket of her hair. Do you have a locket of her hair?” Yes in a shadow box on my mantle.

Next, Theresa was rubbing her stomach, chest area and said “She’s showing me an infection, in her stomach? Lungs?” I said lungs.

Theresa said “She is showing me that she is swinging on a swing set, playing. She was unable to move for some time and now she wants you to know she is playing.” I said she was in a coma for 11 days.

“She is showing me a manmade body of water.” At this point Theresa got very flustered and on the verge of tears. She was pacing back and forth and kept repeating “It was crazy, there was no current. It was almost like drowning in a bucket, something as senseless as that?”

I said “It was a pool and they don’t have currents either”

Theresa slapped her head, like duh.

Next she blurted out “What’s with the book? There is a book memorializing her life?” I almost died at this point and said “Yes. I am writing a book about her!” Theresa said well she is acknowledging your work.

Next she said “You called her Maddie didn’t you?” and I said yes and Theresa looked right at me and said well she just climbed up on your lap and gave you a hug and said “I’m my Mommy’s Maddie!” Again I almost died as I had a chill run from my toes to my head.

Then Theresa said “and she just jumped up and gave me a hug to thank me for talking to you. She is showing me on that swing set again. She really wants to let you know she is playing and having a ball.”

“She is showing me some drawings or writings now. Did you find something she drew after she passed and put it in a box?” I told her yes I found some papers that Shannon made Madison write her scribble; Shannon was trying to teach Madison how to write. When I found the papers I couldn’t look at them and put them in a box. I still don’t know where the box is.

“Now she is showing me a pretty dress and turning around so I see dirt on the back of the dress. Like she was a girlie, girl and a tomboy. She would put on pretty dresses and then go outside and play in the dirt.” Yes this is her.

“She is showing me a park. Like you have a tribute to her in a park, and her name is somewhere in park??” I said yes. We have a Miles for Madison walk in Tyler park each year, and just, just, just received information to have her name engraved on a bench there. The info is on my fridge at home.

Next she said “She is showing me a princess bathing suit.” I said “That is what she died in.” Theresa said no she is showing me that couldn’t find it. After Madison died I wanted to see the Ariel bathing suit and my mom admitted to throwing it out and I was a little upset.
Theresa said, “She wants to acknowledge that you were upset about the bathing suit, but it doesn’t matter. There she is on those swings again.”

Theresa stood quietly for a minute and said “Who is Lila? Libby? Liddy?”
I said “Linny”
She said “Who is she?”
I said “the babysitter”

Everyone in the audience, including Theresa got very flustered and loud and Theresa kept pacing back and forth. So I said “No. No they loved each other.” Theresa stayed quiet a minute and then came over to me and gave me a hug before moving on to someone else.

I’d say the whole night she read about 20 people and Madison’s was by far the longest. It felt like it went on for 15 minutes but I’m not sure.

Jill prayed for my wife and I last night. A lot of you did. I asked God yesterday that if this was of Him, that is will be done.

I believe it was Jax last night. I believe he made it through all of those other loved ones passed on and up to Caputo first. He knows what it means for my wife and I to hear from him. He knows how much we need it.

I have to believe. Without belief there’s no hope, and that green light at the end of Daisy’s dock fades to darkness. I lived in darkness enough over the past year. I need that light.


Shattered Faith, Part I

This is going to be weird. I’m going to open up about some stuff that will make you judge my faith, my strength, my mental/emotional stability and question whether you will keep reading this site, or even talk to me without looking at me differently. I just ask that you read with an open mind, without judgement and with love.

Faith, shattered.

Faith, shattered.

When Jax died everything changed. I used to pray every morning in the shower. Almost every single day I’d end by asking for God’s protection for my wife and kids. I prayed the same thing on June 24 when Jax died. On June 25 I stopped praying.

What’s the point? I was just wasting my breath. You know when your spouse gets so mad at you that they ignore you for a couple of days? That was me towards God. Except it lasted months. He was around, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I know, we live in a broken world, yadda yadda yadda. Shit happens. I didn’t care. I was beyond pissed. Now, I know there’s human element involved with life and death, and consequences occur, and it’s not all on God. I’m not discounting any of that. But if He can’t protect my kid, then what’s the point of any of this?

A few days after he died, or after the memorial service – I don’t remember which – I started to question heaven’s existence. What if there is no heaven? Will I ever see my boy again? I grew up in a Christian family and attended a non-demotional Christian church all of my life. I was raised to believe that you died and went to heaven if you accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior. What if the Bible is just a book of mythological stories, and when we die, nothing happens? I felt alone. Everything I believed in before 6/24 shattered like a glass bowl on the kitchen tile. Tiny shards shot every which way and I’m walking barefoot trying to pick up the pieces. But it hurts. I keep stepping on the shards. I’m bleeding. And I’m overwhelmed.

Thirst for Knowledge

I started to read Heaven Is for Real in which an evangelical pastor writes about his 4-year-old son’s encounter with heaven while undergoing emergency surgery for a ruptured appendix. It didn’t help. Call me skeptical, but it’s written by a pastor. As much as I wanted to believe it’s all true, he has too much to gain from a great story that sells.

My therapist recommended 90 Minutes in Heaven, a book written by a man who displayed no signs of life to EMTs for 90 minutes following a brutal car wreck. Some of his accounts of heaven were completely different from the kid’s in Heaven Is for Real. But I guess a grown man won’t see a rainbow-colored horse in heaven or a pink-jeweled crown on Jesus’ head.

I bought a third book, To Heaven and Back, which chronicles an orthopaedic surgeon who nearly drowned following a kayak accident and her experience in heaven. I don’t even know where it is.

Found Peace

And then I found comfort in an unexpected place. I felt peace for the first time in months. Peace that I would see Jax soon and that he was still with me. Peace that he is okay and in God’s hands. I’ll explain more about that unexpected place soon.

The “Christiany” thing is to seek God’s comfort and know that Jax is with Him, he’s safe and the Bible tells us I’ll see him again. But remember, I’m still picking up those sharp pieces of faith on my kitchen floor. I’m pissed at God that this happened. Or perhaps my faith was never strong enough to begin with?

Rebuilding Faith

I’m back to speaking with God. Not as often as I used to, but those lines of communication, at least on my end, are open again. The line on his end was always free. I’m sure of it. This morning I prayed that if this unexpected source of comfort is of His will, that I may have peace with it. I still doubt whether it is, because really, it’s weird to me, too.

Tomorrow (hopefully) I’ll explain WTF I’m talking about. In the meantime, if you pray, pray for my wife and I tonight, even though you don’t know what you’re praying for. Things will get weirder tomorrow. I promise.



We’re Doing Something, I Just Don’t Know What



For those of you interested in joining us, we are planning to get together in memory of Jaxson on the evening of June 24. We are still figuring out the details, but aim to meet around 7:30-8 pm.

We wanted to let you know so that you could save the date. We will be finalizing the details soon and will let you know. All are welcome so feel free to share this information with others.

More info to come.


Pulp Duo, Mohrrior and a Red Wedding – How Was Your Weekend?


Yeah. I’ve got nothing.


Saturday! Now Saturday I actually did some shit. In an effort to expand my capabilities at Bugs & Cranks I learned how to create an animated GIF, which is a digital image that moves. For example, this is a GIF (I pronounce it gif, like gift, but other weirdos say jif. Freaks). It is also how I felt after accomplishing my feat.

Courtesy of

Courtesy of

Seriously, I was that excited. You can find that post here.

As I previewed on Thursday, Orange County artist Sam Carter’s DUOS pop art gallery opened. My wife and I met Sam, his bride and a few friends at the Velvet Lounge (VLVT) in the Santa Ana Arts District. It’s a gay bar/lounge and night club with some damn fine food and a kick-ass happy hour. I threw down three $3 whiskey/Cokes. As my first gay bar experience, I can say that the only noticeable difference was that the number of glory hole jokes spiked drastically.

DUOS at F+ Gallery

DUOS at F+ Gallery

Over at F+ Gallery a food truck parked outside what looked like a condo or loft with an open garage stuffed with Sam’s DUOS art, a crowd and some more booze. Dos Equis in the green bottle for just a tip? Don’t mind if I have three. The pop art collection adorned the walls and I picked up this piece, from my favorite movie Pulp Fiction.

Jules and Vincent, DUOS by Sam Carter.

Jules and Vincent, DUOS by Sam Carter.

From there we met friends at the Irvine Improv to catch Jay Mohr’s 9 p.m. comedy show. He killed it. I love it when comedians go up there without a plan, and just let the crowd drive them. My lame-ass started nodding off in the middle of a long bit about how Mohr hates musicians talking during concerts. WHO DOES THAT? IT’S A LIVE COMEDY SHOW, AND IT’S FUNNY, AND I CAN’T KEEP MY EYES OPEN. F me.

Jay Mohr too close to my wife.

Jay Mohr too close to my wife.

Our friends and my wife grabbed some pictures with Mohr while I secured a patio table at the Yard House. Naturally I was wide awake to split a pastrami sandwich. I hate me.


Mark Trumbo homered. Angels lost. Photo by Matt Brown/Angels Baseball LP.

Mark Trumbo homered. Angels lost. Photo by Matt Brown/Angels Baseball LP.

My buddy Ian and I sat through the Angels’ third straight loss to the Houston Astros. For those of you that don’t realize that magnitude of shittiness this means, let me spell it out. The Astros are the worst team in the American League. The only other team in baseball worse than the Astros is the Miami Marlins. And the only reason they’re worse is because they have the worst owner in baseball, traded all but one of their good players to the Toronto Blue Jays and pretty much field a Triple-A minor league team.

Yet the Angels are off losing three in a row to the FUCCCKKKINNNNGG Astros. It’s the Astros. I will put it in perspective for those of you that watched Dancing With the Stars. The Angels are like gold-medal winning Olympic gymnast Alexandra Raisman. She had all the tools to win but couldn’t put it together. And she’s a sexy competitor. But she finished fourth. The Astros are like Wynonna Judd. Pure country, completely boring and no skill. Now, imagine Wynonna beating Ali head-to-head in a ballroom dancing competition. Okay, expand that brain-cramping exercise to three-straight wins. STAY WITH ME. Don’t fall out of your chair. This is the domain I live in. And the Astros will likely win tonight to make it four in a row.

Gold member, baby.

Gold member, baby.

We walked around Angel Stadium to grab some sandwiches and came across the season seat holder wall (unofficial title). We are now gold members. Which has absolutely zero perks. In 2032 we’ll be promoted to the next level. Hopefully one with a wheelchair ramp.

mother hell

I’m typing this on Sunday night. My wife from an alternate universe just Tweeted this:


Fifteen minutes later my buddy Brandon IM’d me that it was the greatest Game of Thrones episode of all time.

SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!! If you haven’t watched Sunday’s episode, don’t read beyond this GIF. Stop here, enjoy the dragons, watch the episode and then come back and read the rest.

Courtesy of

Courtesy of

Game of Thrones Shiznit

  • I’ve never played chess, but bring me those awesome pieces the Starks used to strategize and I will Bobby Fischer your shit, sir.
  • I really need a bigger TV. This 32-incher ain’t cutting it (that’s what she said…if she was a blue whale).
  • I also want my own wolf.
  • Oh shit John Snow left his ginger.
  • Ever feel like watching this show is like watching a hockey game? Petyr Baelish (Little Finger, the shady guy that counsels the King and runs a brothel) might as well be a defensemen for the Toronto Maple Leafs. And when they start fighting, it’s as hard as tracking a puck. Who’s who? Let’s mix it up, shirts and skins, or green vs hot pink?
  • That Stark relative (again, no idea on a name) forced to marry won the medieval Powerball compared to his bride’s sisters.
  • A sword needs a sheath. Best euphemism.
  • And wtfffffff is with the bedding ceremony custom? Really? Congrats on getting married, now have sex with everyone at the party? YES, IT IS STRANGE, ROB STARK! Make a new tradition. OF NOT DOING THAT.
  • Holyyyyyyyyyy ambush ohhhhhhh shiittttttt that just happened?? OHHHH SHITTTTTT.

I jumped online immediately after the episode to discuss with Brandon.

Seth: finished watching it
Brandon: Nice day…for a red wedding?
Seth: fucking brutal
Brandon: Surprised my wife didn’t get all butt hurt
Brandon: I thought it was awesome. What made The Wire awesome.
Brandon: No one…safe…ever.
Brandon: No matter how central they seemed
Seth: yes
Brandon: Pretty bummed we never got to see Jeyne naked but once.
Brandon: I enjoyed it the only time!
Seth: I’m so bad with the names. Which is Jeyne?
Brandon: Robb Stark’s wife
Seth: I thought we did
Brandon: Only one time
Brandon: I wanted more
Seth: greedy bastard
Seth: stop shaving so you can end up looking like that wildling with the big red beard
Brandon: Unfortunately
Brandon: I am clean shaven
Brandon: I shaved a couple weeks ago
Seth: That’s what I’m saying
Seth: I told you to stop shaving.
Brandon: 9.5 years
Brandon: Clean shaven now

Actress Emilia Clarke plays Daenerys Targaryen.

Actress Emilia Clarke plays Daenerys Targaryen.

Brandon: Also

Brandon: Emilia Clarke
Brandon: Should be naked each and every episode
Brandon: And I will do my best to not be bitter that Seth McFarlane bangs her
Seth: yeah it’s bullshit when she’s not
Seth: And I have a fair offer: dragons or nekkid. I’ll take one or the other.
Brandon: That is my ONLY gripe of the show
Brandon: Is that we go 2-3 episodes
Seth: At least some Seth is getting her.
Brandon: Without seeing characters
Seth: My only gripe is not enough draggons.
Seth: and going one episode without b00bz
Brandon: My wife downloaded the books tonight
Brandon: So she will be a spoiler nerd now
Brandon: Yeah I think this is the 2nd episode this season without boobs
Seth: way too many
Brandon: Last time the next episode had lots of boobage though

You get the gist. Remember…men are pigs.