It honestly hurts me to do these.  Running with that thought, it’s possible this might be the 1st step that leads me to a life of S&M, of whips and chains, of eye sores and an even sorer bum.  Yeah probably not.  Here’s the newest installment of America’s Shittiest Podcast.  Good luck and Godspeed.

And without further ado, Holley Mangold… your Beast of the Week:

What else can she lift?

Currently Listening To:

“Maybe This Christmas”

Disgusting and only mildly entertaining.  There’s no reason for these to continue, but we’re back like that herp you just can’t get rid of (and absolutely never will).  The Dil-Do Factor’s newest episode features the return of that anal bead of a man, Dennis “Doggy” Dowd.  Enjoy.

Currently Listening To:

Deas Vail

“White Lights”

Well well well.  It appeared to many (many=me) that the Dil-Do Factor might be a strange-yet-ineffective spin-off of the once unpopular Blogjammin’ blog.  It appeared to many (many once again = me) that the powers of CJ “The Big C Dilly” Aquilino and Dennis “Doggy” Dowd would only team up once, or at most twice for this explosion of spoken-word disease.  While, yes, the Dil-Do Factor has been strange and ineffective and unpopular, Dilly and Doggy are here to stay.  And we intend to make the world a far worse place because of it.  Here we have the longest (and quite possibly HARDEST…. to listen to) Dil-Do Factor of all time.  After hitting rock-bottom with Episode 3, we know for a fact we can only go up.  And yes, that is a penis joke.

Exciting addition: Please Please Please play a drinking game to the # of times I said “100%.”  It’s shocking, upsetting, and will get you hammered drunk.  I st0pped counting at 17…a quarter of the way through.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you your Beast of the Week:

Lori Beth Denberg

Currently Listening To:

Circa Survive

“Blue Sky Noise”

Howdy folks,

Hopefully, you didn’t spend your whole Memorial Day Weekend indoors mourning the loss of the Dil-Do Factor.  No need to fret, Dilly and Doggy had a plan all along (like The Manhattan Project).  Knowing there would be no sense in disturbing the festivities of the weekend, Doggy and I put together this fine collection of audio embarrassments the week before, thus giving us (at least) 3 glorious days to celebrate American fine brews and American easy women.  Finally prepped and rarin’ for action, this podcast is a little bigger, a little funnier, and at least 59% drunker (thank you 4 Loko).  There’s a brief section that was determined to be too hot for TV and thus has been edited (see if you can hear where) to keep wonderful folks from developing malaria of the ears.  The brass tax is this — Dilly and Doggy are here to stay.  Welcome to the movement.

Oh and by the way, here’s Cheryl:

Doggy's Girl

Currently Listening to:

Band of Horses

“Infinite Arms”

What’s up everyone, it’s been awhile since I’ve done anything remotely productive for this blog.  And while we all know that this has probably (definitely) made the world a better place, Dilly is back and better than ever — breaking hearts and taking painful shits.  Armed with his equally-retarded counterpart Dennis “Doggy” Dowd (creator of the sweet-as-hell Call It In The Air blog — http://callitintheair1.wordpress.com), Dilly has recorded the 1st ever “Dil-Do Factor” podcast (DIL-ly + DO-ggy = DIL-DO…shut it, it’s a working title).  It’s about a half-hour long and includes discussion topics such as the Doris Burke Bombshell, the NBA playoffs, 4 Loko, and the overall creepiness of the Gorton’s Fishstick fisherman guy (he makes me uncomfortable).  If you like/hate what you hear or have any suggestions for future podcasts (we’re tryin to do these bitches weekly), please please please let us know via comment on this or Den’s blog, comment on facebook, or our respective Twatters (www.twitter.com/thebigcdilly and www.twitter.com/denniscdowd).  We repreciate it.  Ya fucks.

And if you were wondering, apparently this is a picture of Andy:

Currently Listening To:

(Nothing, I lost my effing iPod.  The Worst.)

Since I’m not too crazy about the Thanksgiving myth we’ve been throwing around (the Pilgrims sound too much like Sam Rockwell’s character in “Matchstick Men”), the Dilly has taken on full ownership of the most GBA-licious of holidays.  From now on, it was Dilly who feasted with some hipsters (the Pilgrims of our time), and then banished them to Brooklyn to smoke cigarettes and drink PBR.  (And while we’re officially amending history (as in making it better), let’s work on that Mayflower deal.  Can we not have our early mainlanders rollin’ up to Plymouth Rock in a water-whip that sounds like the name of a gay bar?  Come on folks, we can fix this.)

Despite it’s questionable beginnings, Thanksgiving provides us all with a real chance to reflect on where the hell we’ve come from, and how the hell we got here.  I’ve always seen Thanksgiving as my almost-end-of-the-year checkpoint — if I haven’t done the things I’ve wanted to do or been the guy I’ve wanted to be, I at least have another six jolly weeks to make some power moves during the holiday season. And in the end, if that doesn’t work out, I can just blackout on New Year’s and pretend that the year never happened.  Couple that with the Tryptophan Gorge-Nap-Loaf Combo (brought to you by Miller Lite) and National Eat-Your-Face-Off Day is officially a great time to be an American.

It also means the sort-of beginning to Christmas TV specials (so good).  For a complete listing, hit this link.

In my first venture into the Dilly Days of Christmas (I’m tryna hit every Christmas movie, song, and show possible — all because I feel that I didn’t hit “my quota” last year… I am not well.), the Dilly took the ladyfriend out to see Robert Zemeckis’ — of “Polar Express” and “Beowulf” creepy digital fame — “A Christmas Carol” in 3D.  Hay-zeus cristo, 3D is the shit.  Flying through the streets of London, with snow falling delicately around (I tried to reach out and touch it — like an asshole — the ladyfriend was not impressed), you are legitimately warped inside the very real (and kinda creepy) HAUNTING of Ebenezer Scrooge.  If Jim Carrey’s computer-generated mug wasn’t disturbing enough,

Morning Mr. Carrey....

Jacob Marley’s fettered ghost and all 3 Christmas spirits feel a little too close to the dome at times.  For “A Christmas Carol,” with a story we already know so well, it takes something spectacular to bring it back to life.  Judging from the mist I was peering through (and not from those new 3D emo-glasses they give out) when muh boy Ebby learned to keep Christmas in his heart all year long, “A Christmas Carol” proved worth its $14 price of admission.  Please go see it in person (or in robot) (or whatever).

(Also, while leaving the theater, I was struck (in a moment of clarity) with the following epiphany:  I am a theater room and a lubriderm pump away from 3D porn.  God bless us, every one.)

For last licks (and that is supposed to sound dirty), I caught Brand New last night live (AND IN PERSON!!!) at the Nassau Coliseum.  Not only were all of the opening bands legit-as-hell (Kevin Devine and the Goddamn Band, Manchester Orchestra, Thrice, and Glassjaw), but B-Nizzle did not disappoint.  With a set almost completely comprised of “Daisy” and “The Devil and God…” songs, my boys from Long Island suddenly sounded hard as hell.  If you’re a BN fan, and you’ve hit that new album, lemme tell ya — that scream is real, and it is fan-fucking-tastic.  And just when you thought all that hollerin’ and carryin’ on would mess with Jesse’s singing voice, think again.  The man (and his band) filled up the room, from the GA sea to all those 80′s Islanders Stanley Cup banners hanging from the rafters.  Highlight of the night:  a hauntingly epic “Limousine (MS Rebridge)” — described by Jesse as a “Long Island song,” but still a sad one:

In a final side note, as I’m sitting here writing this ish, I’m watching the Steelers-Ravens game on NBC’s Sunday Night Football.  Dennis Dixon, the former U of Oregon star who’s been chillin at the #3 QB spot on the Steeler’s depth chart since being drafted, just threw the 1st touchdown pass of his career.  As Santonio Holmes, the Steelers receiver who caught the pass dove into the endzone, Dixon fixed his eyes skyward and blew a kiss.  It was to his mother who passed away from breast cancer in 2004, at the age of 46. Thanks DD for giving those of us watching a truly honest moment — just a guy playing the game he loves, giving thanks to the woman that raised him — because I’m not gonna lie, sometimes moments like those can be a little hard to come by.

Thanks so much for reading kids.  I’ll catch ya’ll next week.

www.twitter.com/thebigcdilly

Currently Listening To:

Various Artists

“Maybe This Christmas”

Like Andy Dick (thank God) and a post-”Mighty Ducks” Emilo Estevez, it was no secret to those true-blue Americans that Dilly had disappeared.  One minute the Dillites (my faithful followers — ie. my mother) were filling their plates with a smorgasbord of Dillyisms — seeing the world with wide eyes and shit-eating grins, never letting their jolly drunk become a grumpy drunk — and the next thing they know, they’re left wondering the following:

-Was that creepo movie trailer his idea of a new post?

-Does he think watching 3 minutes of Crispin Glover in stretchy pants and high-heel shoes is gonna ease the deep longing in my soul for a Dilly post?

-Is all that porn I’ve been watching the real reason that my parent’s computer stopped working? (For me, during the Erin Andrews affair, that answer was yes).

Well here I am, so suck it up and deal.  And then take a moment to celebrate this true American hero:

That felt good.  Now on to real-life issues.

The first semi-deal that I wanted to ever-so-gently touch upon (just the tip) is no longer newsworthy — I mean, nobody really cares about Steve Phillips slammin a beat ass ESPN employee (Brooke Hundley the Destroyer) anymore.  But Dilly does.  And he’ll tell you why.  Fuck Steve Phillips.  Because of his clear-and-present sex addiction (exhibit A), I was forced to use and hear the phrase “good-looking older guy” more times than I ever wanted to.  Every time a bro or a dude came up to me on the streets (cause that’s what bros and dudes do), there was a brief discussion, first) about Butch’s triple busted status, and then) immediately followed by some straight male’s admission (usually mine) that Steve Phillips is both, in fact, a silver fox and a total babe all wrapped into one.  I do not feel good about any of these encounters, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t slept since.  Fuck Steve Phillips.  For being so fucking handsome.

Next up, I wanted to open some doors (and gosh darnit, while I’m at it, maybe open some minds).  If you haven’t been watching “The League,” you are really ruining your own life.  I hate to be the bearer of bad news… but you suck.  Even if you aren’t into Fantasy Football (I do understand that the internet reaches some folks outside of the U.S.), “The League” is raunchy humor done right (and conveniently ran right after “It’s Always Sunny…,” Thursday nights on FX).  Last week’s episode had an extensive discussion about how one of the characters’ sensitive teeth was definitively caused by his affinity for sucking off d-spots.   This really doesn’t sound funny in writing (and I am officially feeling uncomfortable), but I swear this show is legit as hell.  If you and your friends spend most of your time ripping each other to shreds (and isn’t that really what friends are for?), then make yourself a fan of “The League” (see what I did there… that’s wordplay mofos… learn it).

The last little bit I wanted to mention is that I have finally caved and got my ass involved in Twatter (yeah that’s right, I said it, and it will only be referred to as “Twatter” on this blog.  Deal with it).  It’s actually not the worst thing ever (except if you’re the kind of person who’s using it to let me know that you just had a great lunch and can’t wait to brush your teeth today — www.twitter.com/jenna_burpee) (just kidding Jenna).  If you’re at least a little bit witty (or if you just think you are), get yourself going and friend or follow or whatever the hell Twatters do — do that to me, and hit me with something to laugh at while  I’m pretending to do work.  In case you were wondering, my job sucks. And yes, it is in a cubicle.

If you’re looking to follow a motherfucker, my shit www.twitter.com/thebigcdilly.  Tell your friends.

Alright kids, that’s all I got for now.  If I’m not too lazy (and we don’t see a rehashing of the couch years), you’ll be gettin’ weekly posts from here on out.  I promise this last little gap was a fluke.  Well, I hope so at least.  Thanks for reading.  GBA.

Currently Listening to:

Cartel

“Cycles”

1.  Watching too many back-episodes of “The Big Bang Theory.” It’s no “It’s Always Sunny…” and it’s not even “Modern Family,” but dammit those witty nerd-shitbirds have got me hooked (“shitnerds?” — nope.).  The Kaley Cuoco Factor makes this not cool, but not completely embarrassing (I just decided she’s my Natty Light of biddies right now — maybe not the best in show, but tasty and cheap enough where I want to take her home and down a 12-pack. I might have fucked up that metaphor.) If I were Bill Simmons (and I wish I was), and I had a fantasy draft for celebrity chicks that I thought I might have a chance with if money, fame, and amount of body hair weren’t a factor, she just might be my #1 overall pick.  Also, I might have youtube-stalked her for at least half a workday last week.

Naturally Smooth

2.  Going to see “Paranormal Activity” and subsequently getting sick all over the movie theater.  I’m pretty pumped that movie magic has hit such a majestic pinnacle that directors are completely capable of making viewers throw up at will.  ”Paranormal Activity” is a clear sign that God has truly blessed America.

3. Developing a new marketing campaign for the Mohegan Sun casino.  I mean shit guys, I just can’t have you ruin another classic.

If you’d rather read my shit, then here we go.  ’Preciate you taking the time.

So let’s get it started with a little chat about America’s favorite reality-TV hopefuls: the Heene family of good ole Fort Collins, Colorado.  As many of you folks know, I am a pretty staunch supporter of America, with its purple mountain majesty and glorious domestic beer selections.  Shit, I mean I’m wearing a USA bandana as I write this with hopes that God will bless me by association.  I’m not gonna lie though, I get a little nervous about our whole reality-TV culture if it’s going to create these kind of crazies (see Octomom).  Yeah, the kid has a sick name (Falcon, so good) — and yeah maybe it makes me want to test his aeronautic capabilities — but c’mon, this does not warrant an attempt to sham America with a giant deflated beach ball and a really poor showing at hide-and-seek (a box in the attic? really?  my little sister in her prime would’ve found that brat before the 6 o’clock news). I’ve never been happier to have come from a home where pulling a disappearing act like that would’ve meant getting a wooden, tomato-sauce-stirring spoon broken over my ass.

In other notes, I just got a text from a friend that read “Thank God they found balloon boy.  I was afraid Michael Jackson was ordering take-out from heaven.”  Pretty awesome.

Next up, I wanted to shed a little light (check out Dilly, watch him shine) on a new band that a buddy of mine (Dan Vassallo of Lakeland High School Yazz Band fame) is playing drums for.  They’re a pop/rock outfit based out of Boston called View From An Airplane (www.myspace.com/viewfromanairplane), and they are pretty effing sweet.  If you’re into catchy rock tunes that aren’t cheesy but still stick to your head like adhesive band-aids, hit that shit.  Their singer, Nick Conway has got a pretty flawless voice (it soars like a bald eagle), and I had the pleasure of hearing him live this past weekend.  The motherfucker does not miss a note.  It’s kind of scary.  He might be a robot.  When their debut record (the “All The Right Words” ep) drops, I will 1) plug them again and 2) try and force them to let me post the track they did with John O of The Maine.  I’ve heard it, and that shit is catastrophically good.  In closing, please do yourself a favor and check them out (or check them out… and then do yourself a favor — wink, wink) (I hate myself).

To close, I did want to take a minute to pay my respects to the late Jasper Howard, a 20-year-old defensive back at the University of Connecticut who was stabbed to death in an altercation on-campus last weekend.  With the Angels in the ALCS this year, and with this weekend’s tragedy, it’s hard to not be reminded of the passing of  Nick Adenhart, the Angels’ budding star-pitcher who was killed in an accident with a drunk driver earlier this year. He was 22. My only request is that we please figure out a way that this kind of senseless loss of young lives can stop happening. Both of these instances, as I’m sure is true of many other tragedies of this nature, were completely irresponsible, and completely unnecessary.

With that being said, I hope you all enjoyed this week’s post.  As young people, we kind of owe it to ourselves, and to the world, to do some pretty stupid shit.  This blog is a great example of that.  Thanks a lot, and God bless.

Currently Listening to:

The Dangerous Summer

“Reach For The Sun”