Dear BNB, Cleared For Landing

Legal Disclaimer: HDD staff members do not condone or endorse the use of narcotics of a psychedelic nature or otherwise. Nor do any members of the HDD staff admit to ever using narcotics of a psychedelic nature or otherwise. The answer to the following Dear BNB is purely speculation, at best.

Dear BNB,

Had kind of a rough weekend with hallucinogens and way too much Special Export. It got me thinking, being the old-timey know-it-all that you are, that I should ask you this question.

What’s the best way to come down from an acid trip?
Millennial In Need Of Gen X Advice


Well, my young Net Gen friend, I can tell you this much: it most certainly is not sitting in a vinyl booth at a truck stop at 8am, staring at a plate of breakfast sausage, after splitting a tab of fire with your gf at a rave that you just left 30 minutes ago. And I can tell you that it is most certainly not laying face down on Easter morning at your buddies college house, watching the dirty brown shag carpet “making waves,” while a PBS cooking show plays in the background and you have to meet up with your family in a couple hours. And I can tell you that it is most certainly not inside a blazing hot tent in a field full of literally thousands of people in your very same predicament, outside of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. Oh, wait, that last one might have been mushrooms.

It most certainly IS watching the sun come up, with the birds chirping and either The New York Loft Sessions or Satta Massagana playing on the stereo. It’s like being in a Spike Lee movie, except without all the yelling.

First of all, if you’re not between the ages of 19 and 25, then you shouldn’t be fucking with psychedelic stuff. Your mind is either not ready for it, or can’t handle it anymore. If you fall within these parameters, read on. If not, good bye.

The key to a good LSD come-down is preparation. And the key to a good LSD come-down preparation is also preparation. IOW-don’t drop and then and then start setting up for the come-down or you stand a very real chance of ruining your trip. All come-down preparation is to be completed prior to take-off. Now, on with the preparation, shall we?

The first step is pretty simple: score some bud. The same dude that’s hooking you up with blotter has the weed too. Of course you already know this, as old Mary Jane is who led you to here. You didn’t just all of sudden decide “Hey, I want to lose my mind on some micro dots.” You spent 3+ years religiously puffing the herb and now you’re ready to step it up a notch. When you’re coming down, ganja is the familiar comfort you need to curb those uneasy feelings that come from spending the previous 5-8 hours being a drug-taking asshole.

CleanWhen you’re coming down, everything around you is going to seem gross and dirty. (Truth is it’s you, manifesting into your surroundings, how bad you feel about yourself for being a drug-taking asshole.) Make sure that wherever you are coming down is clean. And make sure that the bathroom, especially, is immaculate. A shitter is already a horrible place, and it gets even worse while tripping. When you’re coming down, a stray pube can make your toilet look like a gaping asshole with a beard. You’re already going to have a hard enough time pissing from your acid-shrunken dick; trying to make it happen into Jerry Garcia’s mouth will only make it worse. Take some time to clean.

No PlansRecovery takes awhile. Clear your calendar for the entire next day. You may not know it but you’re still coming down. Under no circumstances should you plan to do anything that requires any brain power whatsoever. Pick out some comedies or a season of Gossip Girl and fill the freezer with ice cream treats. Also, hopefully you still have some of that smoke left. It’s you time!

Thanks for writing in.


Send your questions for BNB to bnb@hotdogdayz.com, Attn: Dear BNB.


Event Reminder: WMBs @ BAG 2nite!

Wondrous Mystical Beasts
A Group Exhibition
Opening Reception 7-10pm tonight

Back Alley Gallery
262 E 4th St. #LL2
Lowertown-St. Paul, MN

Bring the kids, bring the pets, or bring the party people.

There will no doubt be lots of unicorns, some rainbows, maybe a sasquatch, and this wacky skull-face robot thingy that my buddy Nathan did will somehow be incorporated...

Casual Fridays: Hoop (Pipe) Dreams

Please, Saint Cloud Tech HS, myself and the entire state of Minnesota are begging you, BEAT HOPKINS!

Shoutout to Henry Sibley HS for a valiant effort last night. Chin up!


One pint for breakfast aint that bad...

...trust me, I tried it. Just Kidding, I didn't. But you should.

May St. Patrick guard you wherever you go,
and guide you in whatever you do,
and may his loving protection be a blessing to you always.


Cougars are like so racist.

Last night I was thinking again about how I totally missed the boat on cougars. But then I came to a conclusion that makes me feel a little better: cougars are racist.

Stick with me; I'll get there in a minute.

A couple months back I met up with a female friend of mine for some overpriced beer and appetizers at one of those places that's trying to mask it's obvious sports barness behind a disguise of wine lists and gourmet burger menus. You know the place: hockey jersey'd normies pretending they like espresso Mai Bock and sweet potato fries. (JC, just order the jalapeno poppers and a Miller Lite already! You're not fooling anyone.) Anyway, my friend had brought me to this ghastly atrocity of a bar to tell me something very important.

On a recent trip to Las Vegas she ended up partaking in an activity, "sort of by accident," that landed her smack-dab in the middle Cougarville. After a night of Patron and nose candy (that would be the accident,) she rode the cock of a man boy, 14 years her junior (She's 35.) As a result, her life's ambition has now been realized.

"I'm a cougar!"

Over several glasses of microbrewed yeast infections and an order of Blooming Coconut Milk Cauliflower Bites, she told me about all the young poles she gets to smoke now and illustrated exactly why she is fully embracing an early acclivity into the world of cougardom.

"A-Their shit is all new: nice abs, no love handles, smooth skin, amazingly sleek penises...and big...and HARD. B-They can go all night; even if they cum right away, they can get hard again and fuck within' a matter of minutes. C-They usually have cocaine. And D-did I mention their penises?"

Sitting there listening to her gush (metaphorically AND physically) over her newfound love of beautiful boners, I couldn't help but feel like I had missed out on something. Where were all these yogalate-bodied divorcees craving detached sex when I was 21?

So last night I was thinking about this and getting sort of pissed off. I mean, the whole premise of cougaring is based almost entirely on sexism and ageism. Almost. There is one other thing though that makes this the whole thing fucked: racism.

Cougars are racist.

If we've learned one thing about prejudice, it's that sexism and ageism is bad, but being a racist is the worst. And cougars are fucking racist. Think about it; have you ever seen a black cougar? No?

That's because black cougars are called panthers! And the Black Panthers, along with their pale-faced brothers in the Klu Klux Klan and Nazi Germany, wrote the fucking book on racism.

Now, I may have totally missed the boat on cougars but at least I'm not a racist.

Dear Cougars,
I don't care if the dudes you are banging have penises dipped in gorgeous sauce; you're a racist!

Thanks, I feel better.


I Found A Vagina (NSFW-ish)

"Is that a pussy?"

The pussy in question was unlike any coin purse I'd ever had the displeasure of encountering. And I've seen enough beef curtain in my day that, could you learn gynecology by way of osmosis, you'd be calling me Doctor. Yes, this hatchet wound was different. It wasn't so much it's soiled and dejected appearance or the malodorous emissions befouling my nostrils that seemed out of the ordinary (that's normal, right?) but rather the way in which this particular meat wallet was displayed; bare, vulnerable...detached. On an icy sidewalk, in the middle of a Minnesota winter, no less. Srsly, wtf?

Here, see for yourself. Go ahead, take a closer look. Pretty fucked up, amirite?

Subsequently, the question must be asked: "How the fuck did that pussy get there?" I do believe Eddie Murphy has the answer...

Casual Fridays: Oh Yeah Fashion Victim


HDD presents How to Build a Bicycle

Ever wanted to build your very own bike? Well, finally a fool-proof plan has been developed by the crack commando unit of all-stars here at HDD. It's easy; just follow these ten simple steps...

RIP Corey Haim

Another total bummer.


Dear BNB, Almost Famous

Dear BNB,
I believe it was you I was standing in front of at the Song Of Zarathustra show. Did I seriously here you saying to a glossy-eyed twenty something girl "You probably recognize me because I'm semi-famous around here."? Unbelievable! Did it work?
-Johnny P

Dear JP,
Yeah, that was, in fact, me! However, Mr. P., the "glossy-eyed twenty something" you're referring to is actually an acquaintance of mine. What you were overhearing, or perhaps more appropriately--eavesdropping in on, was a veritable joke-around. Maybe you didn't hear (not "here," btw) her sarcastic follow-up, "Oooh, it must be sooo hard for you; you probably can't go eiahnnnywhere in this town." So Johnny, I hate to kill your buzz but no, it didn't "work." But, dang, I must be semi-famous after all; I mean, you recognized me, now didn't you.

Casual Fridays: Markal B



The JUST KIDDING! opening reception last weekend was a pretty-sweet-ass-rad-as-hell-turning-out-better-than-one-would-have-thought kind of event. And as a result, some thank yous are in order...

To the Back Alley Gallery for hosting.

To Craig Drehmel and PBR for the beer sponsorship.

To Jason Austin for playing records.

To CokeWolf for killing our faces off.

To YOU all for coming out.


JUST KIDDING! will be up through the end of the Month. If you'd like to take a look at it, email me and we can set something up. A closing night reception may or may not be in the works as well...


I Hate Your Answering Machine

What, you're breaking up with me on the train?

The after to this before...

Eggs For Africa-Sat, Mar 13th

Pabst Blue Ribbon and Gastro Non Grata Present :
EGGS FOR AFRICA – Raisin’ some scratch for Mozambique
6 Bands, 6 Chefs and 600 eggs

Hexagon Bar, Saturday, March 13th Doors at 8 PM, $10 cover

This is a celebration of the most versatile food to ever be passed from an animal and we have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen. Will there be flan? I can’t tell you because I don’t know. Eggnog mayonnaise? Pork Belly soufflĂ©? I like the way you think, but we’re going to leave this one to the professionals.

Erik Anderson (Seachange), Philip Becht (Modern CafĂ©), Steven Brown, Alexander Dixon, Brian Crouch (D’amico) and Landon Schoenefeld (Haute Dish) will be taking turns slingin’ ouf all night long for much needed charitable donations. The night before the show each chef will receive 100 eggs courtesy of our friends at Bar 5 and and five pounds of butter and other goodies from Land O' Lakes. They will then turn an ear to their roguish inner voices and follow blindly.

Aping the egg, the night’s music comes in two parts, country will be the albumen to rock and roll’s vitellus. The Annandale Cardinals, Captain Clawthroat and Rope Trick will provide some good old, down home, sunny side up country music. While The Yoleus, Truckstops Across America and Total Fucking Blood will devil up some power chords and hard-boil some brains into an obnoxious rock and roll salad.

Screen Printers Tom and Burke from Overproof will be on hand with a portable screen printing machine ready to beautify any shirt you can bring them, 150 T Shirts will be provided on-site as well for donation.

All proceeds of the show will be used to support children in Mozambique, helping with their education and general well-being. If you can't make the show, we'd sure appreciate it if you'd go to this facebook page/website and show some support and donate a couple bucks to get us closer to our $5000 goal. It's for a good cause, so keep the loose change at home and bring the money that folds.
-Craig Drehmel