Dec 6, 2013


This is a list of my favorite Teen Party movies. Each film on this list is a gem. They are the best, the assiest, the horniest, the most hilarious movies ever made. These movies are important. We need them. We need them to remind us that we were young once.
They were a major influence on my new book, THE PARTY LORDS.


Take out the cheesy romance between Molly Ringwald and that other douche, and Sixteen Candles is just a hilarious and sleazy party comedy. The foreign exchange student gets all drunk and hooks up with a female weight lifter. A nerd drives around drunk and hooks up with the prom queen. A house gets thrashed. The movies just a good time.


I saw this little disaster in the theatre and all I could think was like, fuck, teenagers are Goddamn terrifying. I felt so old. So out of touch. This generation of teenagers party so hard. Or at least the kids in this movie do. This is the wildest party movie ever made. This movies like Saved By the Bell  got dry humped by Gummo. Dry humped hard as fuck.


Jonah Hill is so good at playing a teenager. I wish he was still down with playing a seventeen year old in movies.


Well, Jonah Hill doesn’t play a teenager in this movie. He plays a cop going undercover in a high school. Good enough. Strangely, it’s not Jonah hill who carries this movie though. It’s his co-star, Channing Tatum. God damn, Channing Tatum is so God damn handsome and charismatic. I have such a crush on him. I mean my wife has such a crush on him. Anyway, this movie is hilarious. Much better than the TV show. The TV show sucked. It’s was like Saved By The Bell meets Law And Order. (I have a weird love hate thing with Saved By The Bell).


Part of what makes this movie so great is the soundtrack. It’s done by Tangering Dream and its dreamy as hell. I also love how morally ambiguous the movie is. It’s about the love between a teenage boy and high scale prostitute. And the movie makes no direct stand on the issue of prostitution and I love that.


I should hate this movie. It’s basically about a bunch of rich kids fucking with poor people. It’s like the movie The Outsiders turned inside out. Its like Saved By The Bell beating up on the cast from Roseanne. Still, it’s so funny and written with so much heart. I love this film. No matter how pro rich kid it is.


This movie barely has a plot. What plot exists, is just plain dumb. But the movie is hilarious and the actors seem like they are having the best time ever making it. It’s a gem. I prefer this movie to the original American Pie movies. It’s one of the most ridiculous, most over the top movies ever made. And there is so much nudity. You see full frontal dangly labia in like the first ten minutes. I love dangly labia.


Cavemen are awesome at partying. Pauly Shore is awesome at partying. THIS MOVIE IS AWSOME AT PARTYING!


I love the creepy old dude in this movie. He’s such a chill master. And he’s really not that creepy. The movie doesn’t focus on him needing to move on or not being a molester. It kinda glorifies his creepy older dude status. And I really appreciate that.


This movie has so much partying in it. It’s about a young  man’s brief, but awesome term as Czar. This young lad loves to party. Warning: There are some really disturbing scenes in this movie. But, for the most part, it’s just a good old time. Being a teenage much have been fun back in the day. At least it was if you were a Czar. 

Sep 24, 2013

Celebrate Partying.

Send your best party pics. Whoever sends the best, most raunchy, most scandalous, most assy party pic will win a free copy of THE PARTY LORDS, By Justin Grimbol(coming out this November).
Send pics to
or my facebook.
Here are some of the party pics that have been sent to me so far. 
Author Gabino Iglesias gets drunk with some buddies and a sea cucumber. 

Metal heads like to party. Look at that dudes party chin.

Only the assiest.

I love naps.

Eileen Shepard giving R Crumb a piggy back ride. This one will be hard to top.

That dude in the cape magically pulled that other dudes pants down. That spell exhausted him. He needs a party nap.


Sep 4, 2013


Man, this book  nuts. I mean, really, really nuts. This book is like a piƱata filled with mutations, sex, torture, and grime. Gabino  is an ass kicker. He writes like someone who has written a lot and who has read even more. It’s an easy read. This is part of what makes the ass kicking levels on this book so high. It’s like getting your ass kicked by a master ninja.
He focuses on landscape and world building and lets that tell much of the story. I like that. It makes the story feel like a really offensive mural. There is a lot of stuff going on here. But it never gets confusing. As a reader, you never feel like you are on information overload.   
And I have to confess. I’ve always wanted a mouth on my belly. Belly buttons always seemed like such half assed little things. I’ve always wanted a big slobbering mouth on my belly and reading this book got me close to experiencing that. Of course the mouth on this dudes gut is a jerk.  It’s not very likeable.
  Gabinos gutmouth is good stuff. Go get some.

In the meantime here are Gabinos thoughts on series of troubling topics.


Gore is awesome. I'm a gorehound. I grew up on gore and now I keep my craving satisfied by reviewing a bunch of horror books for HorrorTalk. I know a lot of ridiculously talented horror writers and their work is the perfect place to go to when I need of a good fix. I love to read and write gory stuff. Does that mean I'm sick and twisted? Probably, but I don't really care.


Boobs is a term commonly used to name breasts, which are roundish, often pendulous bags of chicken fat that protrude, to varying degrees, from the left and right sides of the upper ventral region of the torso of female humans. The importance of boobs stems from the fact that they contain the mammary glands, which give little babies the sweet nectar of life. Many people know all this, but they ignore the magical side of boobs. Boobs are like talking unicorns with lightsabers. Everyone likes boobs: men, women, and babies. You can find love, comfort, lust, warmth, and art in boobs. I've seen cleavages that have their own gravitational pull. I've messed up because of boobs and I have risen above insurmountable odds simply because the promise of boobs dangled (no pun intended) in the horizon. Boobs are poetry in motion. were talking about the birds, weren't you? 


Man, Texas is a funky place. This state is run by a bunch of white old men who think women should have the same rights as rats and everyone with an accent should be kept out. It's a big place and fits a whole bunch of racists and homophobes. However, I've met some of the coolest people in the world while living here. Also, Austin is not Texas. Austin's a different dimension, a place full of music, books, art, people from all over the world, and tacos. Sure, there are too many hipsters, everyone and their dog comes to every single music and film festival, and there's always someone telling you how they're the best thing to happen to acting since Marlon Brando when you only asked them for a coffee, but the cool, mellow, and weird far outweigh all that crap.

I've been all over the state and can tell you it has something for everyone. San Antonio's really brown, just like I like it. It's full of music, history, and good food. Houston is too damn big, dirty, and full. I've been to Houston's wards. I've seen the poor, the broken, the deracinated. I've seen the violence, the illegal immigrants living in houses with no electricity or running water from which the blacks were evicted in the name of gentrification. Dallas is artsy and nasty. It's fun and fast and fucking dangerous. They like to kill presidents there and have a history of racism and dirty politics that makes KKK members shake their head in shame, but it also has great museums, night life, and restaurants. Is that enough? I've been in Austin five years and I'm sticking around a while longer.


Trying to beat the crap out of gravity keeps me mellow. As long as I get to go to the gym, keeping the murderous intentions at bay is a lot easier. Going to the gym is the cheapest form of anger management you can find. I became a certified personal trainer back in 2002 or so. I paid the bills doing that for about a year. Best racket ever created. Anyway, I'm short, wear glasses, and love books: the only way to evade a daily ass kicking in school was to be wider than everyone else. I'm still working on that.  


Fuck sequels. And fuck remakes while we're at it. Oh, and fuck the plethora of authors who can't write one good book and insist on putting out a trilogy. Movie sequels have gotten so ridiculous that it's gone from funny to depressing. The Last Exorcism Part II? Are you kidding me? The previous one had "last" in the title, you assholes! Sequels are to originality what root canals are to fun times. They're all about repeating a formula to make money. They're the reason we have awful things like a Blues Brothers movie without Belushi, Dumb and Dumberer, and Carrie 2. I could go on, but I'd end up stabbing someone. Sequels can suck it.  


Food is great! I like to have some every day. Good food is also something you can do with others, so it can turn into an nice little event. I once had dinner with you. It was the day before your wedding. We had Mexican food. Remember that? Remember how we ended up at a strip club a few blocks down from the Mexican joint? Remember how you managed to find the only shemale in there and pick a fight? Remember how I bailed your ass so you could go and marry Heather? You owe, Grimboli. You owe me big time.


If you threw gore, boobs, and food in a blender, you'd get something as awesome and tasty as bizarro. Bizarro is a genre with no boundaries, no fears, no rules, no limitations. This is where some of the most exciting and unique voices in contemporary fiction are working. Bizarro allows me to grab noir, horror, humor, surrealism, and whatever else I want and blend it all together to create something different and, hopefully, exciting. Bizarro is also a community. Everyone involved is great. We're a tribe. My Bizarro Family is a bunch of wonderfully talented, caring, soulful, unique, funny, and amazing individuals. Bizarro is weird. Weird and wonderful. Gotta love it!  

Aug 20, 2013


I’ve gotten really into MP Johnsons work. His debut novel, THE AFTER-LIFE STORY OF PORK KNUCKLES MALONE, is the slimiest, raddest, heartfelt, mindfuckingest, book I have ever read. Then I saw him perform. He had me in hysterics. So I contacted him and got him discuss some the most important topics of our century.

When asked about what I write, I used to say, “Stories about monsters.” A friend with an uncanny ability to unabashedly self-promote told me that I needed to do a better job of explaining my writing to people. I tried to come up with something fancier. But when I gave a more elaborate answer, I became acutely aware of the number of people who shut off and stopped listening, as if they didn’t care and they only asked in the first place out of some sort of reflex. That kind of hurts, especially since I consider my writing, as goofy as it is, not to be something I do, but a part of who I am, and when people express disinterest in it, I read it as disinterest in me, and I have trouble handling that emotionally. So I’m back to telling people that I write stories about monsters.

I understand all of the criticisms of porn. I understand that the people making porn can get hurt and the people using porn can get hurt. The same is true of knives. But knives can also be used to make a mean salad. That is a terrible analogy. What freaks me out is people who are only into vanilla porn and are upset by porn that expresses unique variations of gender, sexuality and the experience of sex. Maybe you don’t end up getting off to trans porn or fisting porn or that porn where people inflate their scrotes with some sort of saline solution, but doesn’t it make sense to explore it all virtually to see how it makes you feel?

I really want to tip them over.

In college, I wrote a series of poems about rats eating people and things like that. They were pretty much terrible. However, this one kid absolutely loved them. He would go on ten-minute rants about the social and political implications and the metaphors buried deep within my work. One time he actually applauded a poem about cannibalism because of how well it reflected the economic climate of the time or something like that. I never had the heart to tell him I was just writing about rats and cannibals and monsters and shit and really had no underlying message.

 Slime is extremely important to me. It plays a huge role in my first book, The After-Life Story of Pork Knuckles Malone, and will also pop up in my next book, Dungeons and Drag Queens. I trace my slime obsession back to my childhood. For a brief period of time, every toy line began incorporating slime. It would be sold in these little tubs. I got a tub of the He-Man slime and the slime pit, which was this contraption that featured a giant monster skull that you put the slime in and then the slime poured out of the thing’s mouth and onto a He-Man action figure. I would spend hours sliming guys and just holding the slime in my hands, feeling its viscosity as it slipped between my fingers. Then tragedy! My little brother spilled some slime on the living room carpet. It dried up. The carpet got stained and my mom went crazy. She confiscated all the slime in the house and threw it away. I was never allowed to have slime again. RAP I got to see the Geto Boys last week and it blew my mind. These guys know how to put on a fucking show. They were flying around the stage, throwing punches, hitting every rhyme while everyone in the crowd shouted along. Everyone in the crowd! It was intense. In the middle of “Chucky,” Bushwick Bill faked having some sort of fit. Scarface and Willie D were all like, “Someone call 911!” Then Bill jumped up and kept right on rhyming. Shit got really weird when Scarface broke out an acoustic guitar and belted out a Pink Floyd tune. Any other band pulled that shit and I would have fled, but somehow it worked for these dudes. GOD There’s a big element of playing god in writing. I have control over the world and the characters I’m creating, and if I want them to die at the hands of a slime-spewing, psychic ham, then that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

 I think the concept of sequels gets a bum rap because people think about sequels to movies, the majority of which are money-grabbing rehashes of the first film. In reality, sequels can allow for unique explorations of worlds and characters that wouldn’t have meshed plot-wise with the first. Sequels do not necessarily have to be continuations. I’m working on a sequel to one of my earliest published stories, “After Birth,” which appeared in an issue of Cthulhu Sex. The original was my usual thing: evil one-eyed drag queen gets a blowjob from a bearded dude and leaves some sperm in his beard, which then grows to be a crazy monster. The sequel is more of a dramatic exploration of the drag queen and what brought her to this point.

My primary motivation for writing is fun. I really am bad at the business end of things. I’ve never thought about what I do as writing books, but as writing stories. Stories turn into books if they’re lucky. In the back of my head, I thought that I could just keep writing short stories and getting them published and one day some fairy prince publisher would whisk them away and turn them into a book. I realized that wasn’t how it actually worked, so I set about putting together some book-length pieces and trying to get them out there. I wrote a few novels that I hated. I’m just not a long-form writer. Then I noticed that more and more publishers were putting out novellas. So I got to work, and after a few tries, came up with some that I’m really proud of. Some cool publishers were into them too, and now they’re starting to get into peoples’ hands and people are digging them. It’s kind of a weird feeling being a book guy and seeing how differently people react to the fact that I have a book out, even though I’ve been publishing short stories for years. It’s kind of cool. My goal at this point is to release a book or two a year, putting out short stories in the interim.

I am really proud of my butt.

Aug 2, 2013


By Justin Grimbol

Jenny found Grimey sprawled out in dirt next to an old truck. He was posing like a Play Boy centerfold, only much dirtier.
“Jesus Grimey, what the fuck? Don’t do that. All that dirt on your skin makes for perfect camouflage when you are on the ground? I can barely see you.”
“I know. I’m like Arnold Schwarzenegger  in the movie Predator. If killer aliens came to earth, they wouldn’t  find me either.”
Jenny helped him up. She looked him over. Man, he was so dirty. And she had gotten used to it. How could she let herself get used to something like that? It made her mad?
“Why are you so gross?” she asked him.
“I’m not gross. I’m dirty? It’s different.”
“You need to shower more,” she said. “Look more presentable.”
“I don’t want to look like that.”
“You should. We will be in High School next year. Your dicks going to get bigger. You’re going to want to fall in love.”
“Maybe I’ll meet someone as dirty as I am,” he said.
“That’s actually kinda a sweet thought.”
They walked across the street to a small playground. Little kids didn’t play there much anymore. The equipment was made of metal that was rusty. Parents liked big plastic playgrounds.  
Jenny and Grimey got on the swings. They swung up high and then jenny jumped off and landed on her ass. She pretended to be more hurt than she actually felt. Grimey jumped off the swing. He pretended to be hurt too. They rolled on the ground together, acting like they were in pain.

The sky got dark. They wondered if it was going to rain. The dirt on baldies skin was allergic to rain. So they walked down Franklin Street to the creek and hid under the bridge and watched water move by. They shared a cigarette. It rained a little. Not much. Just a little.

Justin Grimbol is the author of DRINKING UNTIL MORNING, THE CRUD MASTERS and THE CREEK. Find his shit on amazon.

Jul 29, 2013


By Grimbol

The Dogs name was Maximus and he was the biggest, sloppiest dog in town. He belonged to a boy named Grimey. His parents were actually going to name it Grimey Part 2, but Grimey demanded he get a proper name. A powerful name. Like Maximus.
For years, Maximus was the only dog in the neighborhood. Then a family moved in down the street. Maximus heard barking at night.
 So, one day, when his family was preoccupied, he went to check it out.  At the end of their street he found a small house with a large fence around it. Inside the fence was a little Pug. The dog snarled and jumped at the chain link fence. It was a viscous little beast. Maximus started to fall in love with it a bit. Sure, the thing was way too small for him. But he wanted to hump it. Maximus was a determined old dog. It had once run in a circle a thousand times in one day. There was still a dirt track in the back yard to prove it.
Maximus watched the little Pug act crazy, then it went home, all hot, and droopy tongued with love.
He found his owner, Grimey, playing video games. He seemed focused.
The dog went up and tackled him and started humping him passionately.
The boy pushed him off.
“Leave me alone!” he said.
The dog was confused. He did understand the boys mouth sounds. He thought he was flirting with him. He jumped on him and humped even harder than before.
“Mom help!” Baldy yelled.
His mom came, grabbed Maximus by the collar and put him outside. He looked around. It was late. It was getting cold. Everything seemed hard and pointy and unhumpable. The whole world seemed unhumpable.

He decided to lie down and lick himself.

Jul 28, 2013


By Grimbol
It was one of those rare days when Jenny didn’t mind being the tallest girl in the seventh grade. It made her feel powerful. She had a boy named Grimey sitting on her lap. She liked that. He was cuddly.
They were in the park. Parents pushed their kids on the swings and gave them dirty looks. Teenagers made parents suspicious. Especially when they were cuddling. Especially when they saw a boy sitting on some giant girls lap.
“Grimey, why are you so dirty?” Jenny asked. “It’s not that I mind it. I actually like the smell of dirty hair. But I feel bad for you cause all the kids call you Grimey.”
“But that’s my name,” he said.
“No it’s your nickname,” she said.
“No, it’s what my parents named me.”
“Really. My dad was a comedian before he died.”
She laughed. “That’s really messed up, but also sorta prophetic.”
“I thinks it’s funny. I don’t know what prophetic means.”
“Don’t you think it would be even funnier if your name was Grimey but you were actually really clean?”
“No. That would make no sense.”
She laughed even harder than before. He liked that. He used it as an excuse to wrestle her. They grappled on the ground. Jenny won. She pinned him and straddled him. All he could do was smile.
“You’re such a weird little boy. You’re a weird and little and dirty and, well, really little. Do you even have pubic hair?” she said.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
She looked shocked, but only for a moment.
She reached her hands down his pants and he screamed.
“What the fuck did you do that for?”
Jenny held his pubic hair in the air.
“He’s a boy!” she yelled. “A real boy!”
They looked around. All the parents and all the little kids in the playground were staring at them.
“They’re onto us,” she said. “Run.”

They got up and stumbled out of the park laughing. As they walked, Grimey tried to get his pubic hair back. But jenny held it way high over his head.

Jul 24, 2013


Steve Lowe is a great writer. And handsome. Just look at that jaw line. Look at that hair. Look at those eyes. So blue, so thoughtful. Look at his powerful mustache(or, womb broom, as my buddy Jon's dad used to call them).
I remember when I first heard the name STEVE LOWE. I was lying in bed, butt naked. Sweaty. I hadn't read I good book in over a month and I was feeling hopeless. Then I bought this kindle book for super cheap. It was called... MUSCLE MEMORY.
It made me laugh and roll around and feel happy again.
Muscle Memory is one of those body switch stories, like freaky Friday, buts in a million times more hilarious and a million times more heartbreaking. The characters are great. The dialogue feels authentic. I still consider this book to be one of the best Bizarro books ever written. 
Then he came out with KING OF THE PERVERTS. I made the mistake of reading the last chapter of that one while eating dinner. KING OF THE PERVERTS is not as sexy as off the wall gross out, but I like that. The book is hilarious.
His third book, SAMURIA VS ROBO DICK, had me even more floored. This is Steve Lowe's most suspenseful work. Its about a slacker trying to survive a dystopian future. I relate to any slacker character. This book is really fucking fun.
And now his newest book, YOU ARE SLOTH, is out. I just ordered the thing and I can’t wait to read it.
I decided to interview him in the meantime. Pick his brain a little.

Then I’m going to read that book. review that book. And do another interview.  Whether he likes it or not.
Buy Steve's books here.


What were your favorite movies when you were twelve years old?
That would have been 1987, so from around that time period, my list would have included: Critters, Platoon, The Hitcher, Predator, RoboCop, Raw (Eddie Murphy standup), Lethal Weapon, Planes Trains and Automobiles, probably a few others I can’t think of right now. We also watched tons of movies over and over, like Dirty Harry and Red Dawn and Star Wars. To the point that I could recite the entire movie line for line. Some of those 80s movies are so deeply engrained in my mind I don’t think I’ll ever forget them. We also had HBO very briefly around that time, so I remember watching stuff like Short Circuit and Space Camp and Soul Man and Teen Wolf about a million times, but I never really cared for those movies. I was just bored.
What were your first short stories like?
Bad. I really can’t put it any other way. Derivative of what I was reading at the time, so most of them sounded like shitty Stephen King rip-offs. I wanted to be a best-selling horror novelist so much that I tried to ape his stuff all the time and it was pretty terrible crap.
Do you try and write every day?
I would be lying if I said yes. I wish I could do that, but I’m just not in a place where I have the time or head space to write fiction every day. I’m usually writing something, but not fiction as often as I wish I could. I admire the writers who can pump words out every day like that. It's not always easy for me. I have to be immersed into what I'm working on, and I can get easily distracted. I usually know what I'm writing is going to work when I can fight through the distractions and get it written. When a project can win the battle for my attention and command all of my focus, that's when I really love writing fiction. That's when it gets exciting for me. The story takes over.
What is your process like?
That's really hard for me to answer because it's not a set thing. I don't have a static place to write, like an office. I usually set up shop at our kitchen table, with my back to the rest of the house, and listen to music to help drown out what's going on behind me. So that's just the act of trying to write. The actual nuts and bolts of how I write depends on what I'm working on. Lately, it's been almost exclusively books - novella length projects ranging around 30,000 to 40,000 words. I usually work off an outline for those. I took some of John Skipp's process for outlining and made it work for me. He has tons of notecards with all his chapters and scenes laid out, but I prefer a more compact outline, printed out and easily portable to wherever I might be trying to work. I hand write the outline first, then go back and type the whole thing up. That's when I add lots of things, make changes to the plot, get new or better ideas, and figure out how it all fits together. It's cleaner that way, because the more I go over the story before I actually write it, the more I can see what areas need attention and where I can cut or combine or clarify. By the time I get to the actual line-by-line writing, I've already got the plot pretty much down, so I can focus on fleshing it out and bringing the characters to life. 
What is the most annoying part of writing a book?
Getting started. That’s usually the hardest part for me. Some stories, I have the voice or tone down right away and it’s easy. Some books, I’ve had to fight for every inch, and that’s always the hardest for me near the beginning. Once I get into the flow of the story, when it is a living, breathing thing inside my head, then it gets pretty easy. But at the outset of a new project, getting into that flow can sometimes be very difficult. I have small windows of time between my two jobs and kids and regular life when I can sit down and write, so I hate to waste that time. If I don’t have that voice in my head telling me what comes next, I end up wasting time and that’s very frustrating and annoying for me. So until I get into the flow of a story, I can be a pretty irritable person. And also when I'm in the middle of that flow and get interrupted. Pretty much, I'm often an irritable person.
If you could rewrite a Stephen king novel what one would you chose and how would you change it? 
MISERY: I would change the ending and have Annie smash Paul’s head in with an iron door stop, then put a pseudonym on his new book and self-publish it as thinly veiled fanfic. She makes millions of dollars off the book and subsequent movie and marries her pig. I would also read that novel first, because it’s one of the few King books from that era that I never actually got to.

What is the worst movie you have ever loved?

Probably CLOAK & DAGGER with Dabney Coleman and Henry Thomas. I know it would be awful to watch it now as an adult, but it was a great example of a 1980s kids movie. It was PG and cheesy stuff for the most part, but it was better than the kid movies now. I recall some intense chase scenes, there’s murder and the child lead actually blows away one of the bad guy near the end. When I was 9, that movie was awesome. A close runner-up would be The Karate Kid II. It was the first movie that I went to all by myself. I walked to the theater, paid with money I earned through my paper route, bought my own popcorn, and reveled in the glow of Ralph Macchio for two hours.

May 30, 2013

Hippity Hip Hop WTF part 1

At one point MC Hammer tried to become Gangster. He stopped wearing parachute pants and changed his named to Hammer. Just hammer. His next video had him at a massive pool party. He wore a zebra striped man-thong. His big dangus flapped around wildly. His butt muscles were shiny and muscular. Even with all the sexy women in the video, all people could see was his man thong and package. There was way too much Hammer time.

They came up with a second video shortly afterward. This video was more gangster, but not gangster enough. He had worn parachute pants for too many years. That, combined with the zebra thong, made continuing his career as a ganster rapper…impossible.

That being said, I think the first video, the raunchy one, is awesome. It makes me want to party and go swimming.----Grimbol

May 22, 2013


Tarzan that shit: To swing on a dick like a vine while howling like a wild beast.
That shit jetsons: Meaning a dudes stuff is tall and clean like the houses in the Jetsons.
Slime Castle: Sex.

Here is a picture of college kids. 

Gorcoff Slang.
My buddy, Gorcoff, is a slang master. He was raised in Shelter Island, NY. Its an evil place. I think it might be run by a heartless, gold obsessed Fish God. But the kids there come up with really good slang. Gorcoff has evaded the grasp of the Fish Gods and has brought his beautiful slang to the rest of the world.
Here are some Gorcoff classics:

Little Big Horned: To be hungover, or tired, or bored. "I'm so Little Big Horned right now."

Glove: To be stoned. Since being stoned is awesome, this word can be used as and verb, noun and adjective. Example: "That thing is so glove, cause I'm so gloved right now. Man, Glove can be intense."

Nair Action: When a song is so good it makes you want to play air guitar and go "Nah nah nah nah!"

Squirt Wagon: A hot girl. Etymology. I used to go to hippy college. The common term for hot girl was Smoke Show. Gorcoff liked that. Over time the term changed. It went from Smoke Show, to Smoke Wagon, to Wagon, to Squirt Wagon.

Get Swilled:  Getting drunk.

Dellied: Getting drunk.

Get Swoll: to get big muscles when working out.

Dump Em Out: Show your breasts. This evolved to being slang for just having fun. Its like a battle cry.

Charley: A Hot girl. Etymology  Gorcoff went to college with an old guy named Charley. Charley had a staring problem. When ever a girl passed by he would stare at her ass and legs and boobs super obviously. Charleying then became the term for staring a chicks. When I first heard it I thought it was a Vietnam reference. 

Going Hog: Making passionate love.

Yield: Lots of food and or money or anything really. "Look at all this yield."

Here's a picture of Gorcoff and I drinking when we were young and dirty(well, younger and dirtier).