Bobby Brown's Bucket List

In recent times a lot has been made about achieving one's goals before death. While I'm pretty sure I'll never die unlike that rip off artist Michael Jackson the notion of leading a more achievement based existence intrigues this biologically longamonious scientist. I will be the first to admit that in past I've had quite the exigence with achieving list based goals (12 steps, parole requirements). So the other evening (actually it might have been a week ago, time tends to well... disappear for me.) I was relaxing and decided to compile such a list. Now I have trouble recalling my exact intent on many of the entries I will post them all for posterity in hopes they may trigger my mental constitution to reconstitute.

Pee on micheal jackson’s grave, mother fucker’s been ripp’n me off since before I was born.

Have a real bar mitzvah, I know I’m not Jewish, I just want the Jews to put me in a chair and lift me up over their heads.

Convince them to rename all the Martin Luther King Jr. blvd’s “Bobby Brown Blvd”, same with all streets named “Main st.”

Beat up a dolphin, smug fuckers.

Try crack cocaine. …. Just fuck’n with you guys, I’m high as fuck on this delicious shit right now!

Set Whitney’s Mansion on fire… on purpose, for a third time.

Adopt some underprivileged kids.. and make them fight each other.

Invent peel and eat shrimp, also put my cock in the cocktail sauce.

Cryogenically freeze my head

Have a family sitcom where I play a Bill Cosby like dad who gives really bad advice while high. (actually tried this before but nobody wants to ask you for advice and call you “dad” when they’re tied up and being robbed)

Change my name to Theo Huxtable and go on welfare.

Addressing My Quantum Sobriety On Celebrity Fit Club

Though I do not usually use this blog to talk about my personal problems or address public media speculation today I have been levied to do so. I feel that I owe my Bobby Brown Loyalists an explanation for the recent events on show “Celebrity Fit Club: Boot Camp”. I understand that the presence of such an esteemed figure as myself on a VH1 reality show is bound to seem sordid or as novelty at the very least, like a desperate pathetic move to get attention under the guise of physical aesthetic prowess.

It may seem like Bobby Brown may have simply been looking to vainly experience such former luxuries as sleeping on an actual mattress or being trusted around a house full of easily stolen light bulbs. Well it may come as quite the bewilderment but I have proven many the hayseed with my latest venture.

Suspense must always drop its suspenders under the force of gravity so it is time for me to put the laws of gravity back in effect. I desperately wanted to keep my true reasons for being on the show clandestine but I feel that I owe my loyalists an explanation. I was conducting field experiments…

Yep, field experiments. I saw this opportunity as a chance to finally perform some long overdue field experiments like “what would not sleeping at the bus station be like?” or “entering a house through a front door instead of a broken window”. The main source of yellow tinted scuttlebutt has been the allegations that I broke my sobriety. Lies! All lies! I was merely testing a new method of sobriety I was inventing called “quantum sobriety”. See like quantum physics as opposed the regular physics the rules of quantum sobriety are much more different and complex than boring old normal sobriety but are also exceedingly tough for the un-savvy to understand.

In quantum sobriety one can drink several drinks and champagne glasses filled with vodka and GHB while still remaining sober, see the high getting substances flow past me quantumly. Though I may have appeared drunk I was merely expressing quantum sobriety decompression which makes one appear dizzy and sloppy.

However this sort of quantum experimenting and altered state can cause embarrassment and a contract with VH1 to do celebrity rehab followed by sober house and one show to be announced (Real Chance of Crack is the working title). I from now on will only get drunk, smoke weed, smoke crack, do meth, and will no longer lick toads (unless it’s for science), huff glue (intentionally, I do use a lot of glue when I‘m sciencing), or hold my breath to get a space monkey. From now on I am completely sober, that’s right sober S-O-B-R, sober.

But Can They Regrow The Gold Teeth I Pawned?

A mere two decades ago talk of regrowing missing teeth would have been derided as pachyglossal foolhardiness but with the recent amelioration of cellular research it appears to have entered the domain of reality. According to this it is now possible to implant a ball of cells in the area and in a couple months a new tooth is fully formed. If most people are anything like me and lose several teeth each month than this will revolutionize the way we see orthodontic care.

The only problem I see is that so far they’ve only been able regrow conventional teeth not more malleable advanced constructs such as the teeth I became accustomed to. During the 1990’s I was ahead of the curb and jumped on the orthodontic bullet train known as gold teeth. Not only was my smile shinier and brighter than that of the averaged toothed individual but they’re cavity proof and are assets that can be randomly accessed if need be. The only problem with gold teeth is that they have a very low shelf life. It seems that every time Bobby Brown needs to pay the crack bill out come the pliers and Bobby Brown DDS is mining for gold.

If scientists could somehow either….. Pay my crack dealer…. Or make it so every 4-5 days if wake up with a mouth full of homegrown gold teeth this advancement would seem more worthwhile. While we’re on the subject of regrowing things I would like let Whitney know, if she’s reading this (Yeah that’s right bitch the miracle of the internet allows our love to stay in blossom even from 500 feet away at all times.) that you need to “regrow” some credit because I maxed out your Mastercard and nobody is taking that piece of crap Discover card.

I'll Be In Jail For Christmas/I Hit Whitney For Kissing Santa Claus

Tis the season to be merry, a season of miracle. Not Jesus, walking on water is no feat if you understand that water has a solid state known as “ice”. I am talking about miracle of physics and thermodynamics that is Santa Claus. A sleigh that travels around the globe making millions of deliveries within a 24 hour period? An obese gentleman who can defy spacial dimensions on Earth and fit down chimneys? A man who can beat a breaking and entering rap simply by reputation alone? Yes Santa is quite the amazing character.

A long fascination of mine was the gadgetry of Dr. Chris Cringle and this year I was hoping to recreate some of Santa’s research. First of course is the sleigh, a miracle of time and space. At first I was under the impression that the sleigh could travel such long distances in a short time by opening wormholes but quickly realized a wormhole on Earth large enough for a sleigh, Santa, and 8 tiny reindeer (not to mention a cargo of presents) would cause quite the atmospheric disturbance (especially since we’re not entirely sure how a wormhole would react in an actual planetary atmosphere, but theories suggest not good.) There is the possibility that Santa’s sleigh has quantum properties that allow it exist in many different spaces at the same time while keeping a fixed central location and allowing the globe to move around the sleigh as it projects “gateway sleighs” to many locations on a delay. Sort of like tossing a quantum rope ladder that has enough adjustable slack to allow the ship to move without pulling away the ladder. After enjoying some holiday snow and smoking a couple “Yule Rocks” the answer came to me… Santa’s sleigh is able to move so fast because… It’s the color red. I’m not sure how I came upon this result but I’m sure it was sound logic. I mean red does look like a fast color and it is one of the longest wavelengths. I had recalled that there were red vehicles being kept at the fire station down the street. Realizing that these vehicles were paid for by public tax dollars and me being the public I figured that borrowing one of them would be cogent, if I do in future begin to pay taxes.

The next obstacle I faced in understanding Clausian physics was his seemingly mercurial mass dampening habiliments. What plausible materials could be used for such miracle garments? Not to be hauteur I realized that clothing and fashion are not my most adroit studies so I decided to consult Whitney’s closet. After a slight scuffle with security and a brisk but invigorating climb through her second story bedroom window I was ready to do some field research. After testing several of her fine gowns on I realized her gowns, particularly the ones with horizontal stripes made my mass appear to grow when consulting the mirror. I stumbled upon an old box of spandex leotards. It appeared to streamline my figure so I absconded with a pair.

I was off to test my theory, searching for houses with chimneys and flat screen televisions (at the time I knew flat screen televisions and other high end electronic equipment were important but I fail to remember my reasoning currently). As I was searching for temporarily unoccupied houses with chimney access I faced another dilemma I had not accounted for. I had begun shaking which I assumed was from the cold. I had to take action quick to stop the shaking. Recalling my thermodynamic training I realized that if I could trap a heated layer of liquid between myself and the spandex it would act similar to that of a wet suit. I hastily expelled the heated liquid from my bladder into my makeshift wetsuit. Unfortunately the spandex was not water tight so I needed something more substantial. Luckily I had a perfect biodegradable, natural insulant nestled within my own colon. I released my bowels into the suit and attempted to distribute it evenly about my person.

I soon found an appropriate house to test my theories. As I approached the house I ran into my second dilemma. I had forgotten that chimneys are usually roof adjacent making them inaccessible from the ground despite how many times I jumped up and down or told my legs to “grow now mutherfucker, I want to be ten more feet like that other time.”. Huzzah! A stroke of luck, as I was wishing my legs grow I realized my vehicle was equipped with a ladder! I pulled the vehicle up to the house and climbed the ladder to the roof and struggled my way down the chimney. As I was doing so the soot and ash filled my lungs. Some men would have buckled and come back with a breathing apparatus but I simply put away my crack pipe and continued down the chimney.

Getting down the chimney was easy but getting up… while carrying a flat screen television… Not as easy. Luckily while backing up my vehicle to get the ladder close to the house I accidentally demolished the front wall. I figured the residents wouldn’t mind as missing the front of the house added an open spacious flow to the house. Now that my theories had been tested I was off to Whitney’s to return the borrowed spandex and analyze my findings (my landlord has expressly stated no volatile experiments in the apartment).

Whitney greeted me at the door at which point I gave her a deep kiss. As I was kissing her I noticed in the mirror that a man was kissing Whitney. He was in a Santa hat so I assumed that bastard St. Nick was making moves on my woman. I stopped kissing Whitney and man in the mirror appeared to have stopped kissing her too. It seemed that Whitney was a cheating whore so gave her a slight scolding… Repeatedly.. Just enough to bruise my knuckles. Security had the police come and bring me to jail.

That was several months ago, mid July I believe but the trial was three days ago and they gave me several months for domestic abuse and a Santa size list of other charges. I was unable to post this blog on Christmas because I was stuck in a local holding cell as opposed to my usual cell.

Note: After posting this blog Disney threatened to sue good ol’Bobby Brown for copyright infringement, apparently my story is the exact plot of their movie “The Santa Claus” and it’s sequels with Tim Allen (without the scientific prowess of course).