IN WHICH WE KILL THE METAPHORICAL SQUIRREL/TAKE ON OUR FAMILY

O joyous day! We have returned, with our spirits more free and unbroken than ever before. We heralded our return to the front country by calling out triumphant bear calls through the airport . For weeks after, some of us (ahem) could only pee outside. Some of us (AHEM) were cited for public nudity. Our legs were so hairy that someone asked L-Nasty if she was wearing tights. R-Nasty was oft found wandering aimlessly through Millenium Park, gazing longingly at the Bean and the mountains it scarcely resembled, whilst sadly muttering Simon and Garfunkel lyrics. The ostracism we felt finally drove us back to our newly-adopted homeland, Alaska. We spent three joyful months trying to emulate Timothy Treadwell, also known as the Grizzly Man, and live among the massive and majestic grizzlys. We lead a joyful existence, until R-Nasty lost a toe to Cecil, bear numero uno, and L-Nasty got a little too comfortable with Orange Julius, bear numero dos. We also learned Spanish during our time in Alaska among the bears. Sadly, our non-bear family summoned us back for the Thanksgiving festivities. We are being called to eat the eggs of a chicken mixed with "mayonnaise", and must depart. The attached video was a result of our being roofied by our human granny when we refused to rejoin our "real" family. Stay tuned for a family photo! 

IN WHICH WE APOLOGIZE FOR OUR SHAMEFUL LACK OF POSTAGE

You've all been so patiently waiting.  The Great Unknown was fantabulous (despite a near whale capsize and too many four person poop walks) that we have been taken aback by the life we all so thoughtlessly lead here in society.  Our Alaska post has been in the planning stages since we reached solid ground over a month ago, and we apologize for any inconveniences we may have caused our eager audience.  But the duzcuzzes have returned, more or less for the better (debatable), with pretty much (sort of) the same quantity of limbs and mental health, and we hope to provide you with many more laughs to come.  For now, we'll leave you with a preview of our next post, whose idea was born in the deepest of oceans and the tallest of mountains in the untouchable wilderness of Alaska.  Relieving ourselves in the wilderness became a joyous and celebrated occasion, and we vowed to photograph these moments whenever we could.  Stay tuned, because once R-Nasty and L-Nasty escape this unfortunate posting drought, duzcuz will, once again, take the world by storm.

ALSO, PLEASE LIKE US ON FACEBOOK:  https://www.facebook.com/DozensOfCousinsWithWhaleSharks

IN WHICH THE TONE BECOMES SLIGHTLY MORE SERIOUS

ANDORRA "DIDDY A SNIPER" JOHNSON
February 14, 2010- June 17, 2012
Beloved Fish, Beloved Friend, Beloved Lover

My fish of over two years unfortunately took a turn for the worst today.  It was the most heartbreaking loss I (R-Nasty) have ever had to deal with.  My "coping with the death of a loved one" advice packet was, to everyone's surprise, absolutely no help.  After a stressful week of avoiding L-Nasty's incessant calls and voicemails, having intense discussions about my day with an empty fish tank, and finally talking to one of my hate-mail senders via telephone, this was the last thing I needed.  But even so, as I took my first step into my room, which desperately needs redecorating (as of now it is baby blue with brown paw prints), there lay Andorra, slightly more grayish and rotting than his/her usual vibrant orange, and almost folded in half where that luscious, flowing fin of his/hers meets his/her spine.  The grief was too much, and I fell to the floor in heart wrenching sobs.  Our long talks into the night were no more.  I always knew I could come home from a long day of being ostracized because of my family's black-irish heritage and my determination to make a blog about Whale Sharks go viral, and all I would want was to talk it out with my one and only Oranda goldfish, Andorra.  It was a mere two years ago when I walked into that rundown Petco with L-Nasty and Stalin (aka mom).  The slightly antisocial saleswoman described all the different fish in a timid voice, but I knew exactly which one I wanted.  The moment our eyes met, I knew.  I never believed in love at first sight until this moment in aisle 3 at my local pet store, surrounded by the faint smell of gerbil urine and the sound of the parrot mocking every word the schizophrenic customer to my left said.  Andorra's black, beady eyes bore into my soul, and a fire ignited inside of me.  It was a feeling like no other.  After I named him/her after a small country that has very few virtues or things of note, I knew our life together would be one of laughter and joy.  I will miss our bonding sessions that consisted of cheese/seaweed fondue, romantic comedies into the wee hours of the night, and some not appropriate for duzcuz times that left both me and him/her exhausted for the next week.  I love you and miss you, and I am sorry that this was your fate.  I will no longer be able to sleep without the faint sound of you bullying the other fish and aggressively moving rocks around your aquarium.  I now understand the importance of Feng-Shui, even to the smallest of creatures.  Rest in peace, my dear gender confused fish, rest in peace.

IN WHICH WE GAIN FAME AND STALKERS

hey luvrs! ;)

So we reached 1000 hits the other day. We've noticed that when we tell this to old people, they look at us like we're almost better than All-Bran and analgesic suppositories, but when we tell people our own age, it doesn't have quite the same effect. Anyways, after doing skype shots to our success and dancing a couple congratulatory macarenas, R-Nasty checked facebook and discovered that we had received our first hate message. R-Nasty's been receiving boxes filled with poop for a while now (like from before we started our blog; it has nothing to do with this), but this was particularly savage. We asked permission from our special hatemailer to use him as an example of what we'd like you guys to send us.

Shmickyshmares to RoryJ:

Northside College Preparatory High School..
bet you think you're alllllllll that huh

 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJ0sA2uLvXg)
everything is so prim and proper, crisp and clean in your nice little preppy life. Oh you're well off alright, and everything has just been handed to you on a silver fucking platter. You with all your fucking cairn terriers. Don't you know terriers are for rich bitches only? And 15 gerbils? Who do you think you are, stealing all the gerbils from the rest of us. You capitalist bitch. Share the wealth, you prostitute to a senator Lucky for you, capitalist bitches turn me on. So call me 202-295-4859

IN WHICH WE SADLY SAY ADIEU TO VLOGGING

Vlogging. It's been a sexy, good time. However, L-Nasty and I had a good long talk about it, and unfortunately the trend has to end. We're leaving you with the creepiest one ever. Enjoy? (hahahaha you won't...) Also if you don't want to watch 5 minutes of a girl in a closet (but we know you do) just skip to the second bit...

PFEFFERNUSSE=BOWEL MOVEMENTS

To follow up on R-nasty's incredible retelling of BM's hidden around the house, we would like to supply you with a visual.

WARNING:  EXTREME RESEMBLANCE TO BOWEL MOVEMENTS (but we promise, they are fake, we would never go so low as to poop on a cutting board, in a microwave, or in the refrigerator. We only do that outdoors.)

IN WHICH R-NASTY ACCEPTS THE DISCOMFORT OF VLOGGING AND DOESN'T DELETE HER 6:10 VIDEO

L-NASTY MADE ME DO IT...AND YES, AFTER THE FIRST ONE, I WAS SITTING IN A POOL OF MY OWN SWEAT.  I HOPE IT MAKES YOU HAPPY TO KNOW YOUR COUSIN SUFFERS FOR YOU.

FIRST:

FOLLOW-UP:  

IN WHICH L-NASTY DRUMS ABOUT OUR GRANDMOTHER'S CAT

We both just watched this and were both uncomfortable yet titillated. Such is the power of my sensual voice and superb drum skills. Thanks to our grandma Grace (FAMILY MEMBERS READING DO NOT SHOW HER ANY OF THIS WE WILL BE DISINHERITED AND LOCKED OUT), our dedicated Slovenian viewer, and L-Nasty's AP drumming tutor.
UP NEXT:
R-Nasty vlogs. But actually, Rory, if you don't do it today, I will skip school, fly out to Chicago, buy 15 gerbils, break into your room, and make sure they shit all over your futon. That's the L-Nasty guarantee.

IN WHICH R-NASTY MAKES A SWEEPING RECOVERY

Thanks, Liv.  We love ya.


EDIT:  6 MINUTES AND 10 SECONDS PLUS 1 MINUTE AND 5 SECONDS OF DISCOMFORT.  OUR SINCERE CONDOLENCES. 

IN WHICH WE COUNT HOW MANY TIMES L-NASTY SAYS UM

Hey lovers! So there was an original version which L-Nasty refers to in our excellent vlog, but we cut it out because it was 6 minutes of one of us umming and being uncomfortable. This is still uncomfortable, but doesn't give you the sympathy sweats or make you feel oddly violated (two complaints we've received). To recap what was covered in the atrocity some of you saw: A friend (hcushman shoutout!) and I were on a long bus ride, so i brought what i remembered to be one of my children's books along with me to read to her on the bus. My mom used to read it to me, and now that i see it, it was definitely written for someone other than a five-year-old whose favorite book was Everybody Poops (i mean, it still is). There is a lot of strange nudity (nipples in weird places?) and the main character is a woman named Pierre who is gender fluid. So I read it at the top of my lungs in an indeterminate accent for half an hour until the bus driver stopped the bus, got out, and made a personal phone call for 15 minutes. I feel that the only reason for this was because he was extremely close to bitch-slapping me and needed to take a personal moment. Mr. Bus Driver, i gotcha.

WEEKLY PHOTO #3

Tuesdays in Boulder Junction, Wisconsin (if you're not familiar, please see below) comprise of all the hicks and hippies coming together to sell 25-packs of socks and assorted nuts at the flea market.  It has been known to get out of hand- the locals have ended up on the ground in panic position over numerous occasions (sometimes it's the poisoned nut-apple-berry-mayonnaise butter, or getting bulldozed by the stampede of middle-aged woman fighting over a hummingbird/pinecone/musky emblazoned sweatshirt, with floor length tassels on the arm that reach the floor and trail glitter everywhere they go, that reads "Welcome to the Northwoods, care for some smoked musky?)  In the two weeks we spend Up North, Tuesdays are the only day when we briefly consider washing our hair, but never do, and put on acceptable clothing (normally consisting of our great-grandmother's old yellow-checkered hats and grandfather's wellies), but all the while still wearing our eternally moist swim suit tops and bottoms.  This weekly photo is to illustrate some of the items we like to buy at the Flea Market, and some of the personalities we take on whilst wearing these items.  R-Nasty assumes a deaf/mute man who has only been trained in the art of uncomfortably smiling and takes selfies to sell to help pay for the sardines and pickle relish he buys weekly.  L-Nasty likes to dress provocatively in a hand-crocheted bikini that R-Nasty's 80-year-old Polish neighbor Stella made for her, and shake her goodies for those sexy Boulder Junction boyz. She one day hopes to get a ride in a pickup truck, and maybe even get invited to go deer hunting.
When these two Flea-Market-personalities come together, alert the authorities and pray to the God of Whale Sharkers (GWS).

L-NASTY'S COMMENTS
First off, I would like to congratulate R-Nasty for her uncanny ability to find such blatantly sexual pictures of us as 12-year-olds. I seem to have made that face quite a bit in middle school. I thought all evidence was destroyed, but you clearly have a series of collages of my exquisite face hidden in a slightly worn shoebox hidden under your pillow. This blog is basically built-in birth control. I would just like to add a little detail to the descriptors of the sweatshirts. My personal favorites are the children's hoodies that have "Grandma's Lil Cupcakes" emblazoned across the chest. Our own (least) favorite elderly lady/Grandma once tried to buy us a pair, but it was  clearly meant to be ironic, as her distaste for us is matched only by her deeply rooted hatred for small animals and children. Another great love of mine are the pale blue sweaters that have small bears on them. These pint-sized teddies are almost always waving their petite paws at an even daintier moon, and there is usually some kind of super cool glow-in-the-dark feature and maybe even some bric-a-brac applique. My collection has grown significantly in the past years, to the point that I have had to stop sleeping in my bedroom, as it has become so full, and move to the tiny space under the basement stairs. My sweaters deserve only the best. While my therapist has misguidedly brought up the possibility that I am searching for human affection and motherly love, I just think I have mild hoarding tendencies.

Contrabassoons and PHOTO MONTAGES

So we just unearthed a song that we wrote about Peach, the giant loon. When you spend three weeks in the woods of Wisco, your options get pretty limited. We worked really hard at developing our casual dance skills. Our dream was to just walk into a room and start grooving til all chatter ceases. GOAL ACCOMPLISHED. Wait! Similiar story...we were in the Bahamas and felt pretty mistreated by our parents, and also pretty sugar high from the three bags of wine gums we had downed. So we dressed in muumuus and caftans and put some boxers on our heads and went out to the living room to jive to some opera for a while. Unfortunately, neighbours stopped by at the same time, and saw us dressed in our finest dancewear. L-Nasty was trying to booty pop, and R-Nasty was just tryna get by in a gangsta's world. We now have to take the alternate beach route because they think that we are just a bunch of godless sexpots (especially in those highly titillating muumuus. One of us an effort to see them only whilst wearing tie-dyed underpants (GOAL COMPLETED TWICE). Wait, so the original story was about the loons. We were on our routine two mile swims where R-Nasty starts backstroking and just goes in circles and L-Nasty doesn't tell her (AND R-NASTAY STILL HASN'T LEARNED). While we were swimming, we saw two loons ten feet away from us GET INTO A HUGE ASS KERFLUFFLE AND THEN ONE DISAPPEARED UNDERWATER. So we sat there waiting, and it never reappeared. We were half an hour away from any land and one of us cried the entire way back. After we had gotten a hold of ourselves and googled PTSD symptoms, we decided to heal the pain and fear through song. This song is dedicated to Peach, you silly bitch.

Peach's Demise

While swimming through the lagoon

on a fancy shmancy night,

we heard a big "SHABOON!"

our hearts skipped a beat

as we shrieked like baboons.

it was not an octopus,

nor a racoon,

nor a nectarine,

but a loon.

The loon was very scary.

His eyes glowed like a meteorological balloon.

We watched as he opened his beak,

and out came a sinister tune/

He began swirling around us,

creating a water typhoon.

At that exact moment,

we wished we were in Picayune (Mississippi)

The loon looked unquestionably masculine,

especially with his bull tattoon.

"I'm going to make you into cheese falafels,

for i am the Big Loon" he boomed.

We cowered in scaredness,

but then we remembered our harpoons

that we always in our butt pockets.

They were always boon.

We pulled out our weapons,

and aimed at him contrabassoon.

His musical instrument shouted,

"Peach, oh Big Loon, help me before I turn into a prune!"

We erupted into fits of laughter,

for now we were immune,

to this dangerous creature,

known as "Peach, the Big Loon."

Peach's face turned a delightful cherry-bomb red

"I am as embarrassed as Daniel Boone.

because my name Peach does not match my obvious virility!"

Now we hatched from our cocoons

and killed Peach with a dozen plantains.

This song/poem really helped us deal with the stress of becoming superstars in the Netherlands.

PHOTO MONTAGE TIME!!!!

L-Nasty, V-Nasty, and R-Nasty reciting Peach's Demise. Those really sexual matching sweaters we have on say "Northwoods Musky Hunters". Don't rush all at once, boiz!

R-Nasty and one of our favorite cheerleaders in the background. He really supported us through all the problems we had accepting our oozing sexuality.

THE BEST TOWN IN THE WORLD, BOULDER JUNCTION!!!!! ON FRIDAY NIGHTS, YOU CAN GO TO THE DUMP AND WATCH THE BEARS!

Before we got creepy.

IN WHICH WE MARCH TO THE 49TH STATE

L-Nasty here! The dynamic duo will be reunited next weekend, but till then just picture the two of us in matching jim jams (L-Nasty's probably has old waffle bits stuck to it) twitching to Sex by Garrison Keillor (it features a boy who never saw full-frontal nudity until he was seventeen years old and a feature film about naked people jumping up and down). Crusty food items and nude hopping aside, the POLLS ARE IN! We don't really understand it, but apparently you guys feel that a whale shark can be summarized as voluptuous. We weren't aware that sharks had breasticles, but now we kinda see it! If R-Nasty were here, she would be busy compulsively photoshopping boobs onto sharks (in a really non-creepy manner).

So, we have some exhilarating news. Besides the fact the WE ARE HIT SENSATIONS IN RUSSIA WHAT THE SHMUCK CAN YOU BELIEVE IT! I'M TRYING TO PHOTOSHOP A TALL POOFY HAT ONTO A SHARK FOR ALL YOU RUSSIANS OUT THERE! but actually, besides that, DUZCUZ IS HEADIN TO ALASKA! yessir, this july we will be spending a month backpacking and sea kayaking. Some haturz have asked us questions like "What will you eat?!?" and "Where will you do the poop?". WE WILL SURVIVE UPON MAMMA NATURE'S SWEET SWEET SOIL. R-Nasty will spend her days collecting small to mid-sized shrubs and cooking them over a low flame until crispy, while L-Nasty will spend her hours working on becoming a man of the mountain and growing a luxurious beard. And to all the naysayers who think we need a toilet: READ OUR EARLIER POSTS. We strongly enjoy going where the wind blows us. If that is in front of someone's tent, then SO BE IT.
We gotta run and hit that haystack (?), but we'll leave you with a weekly photo...

ALL THE DUZ CUZZES ASSEMBLE. check out the innate sensuality of those fuzzy turtles in the back... (they're second cousins...we don't talk about the accident)

Our Top Five Favorite Songs (and why they are our favorite)

1.  Call Me Maybe (Carly Rae Jepsen) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWNaR-rxAic&ob=av3e]-  We like this song because its catchy hook leaves us a lil manic and foaming at the mouth.  There's nothing we enjoy more than jamming to some Carly Rae with while big bois P-Menace and F-Dilly maniacally gouge our legs.  Also, this is why we have to clear our internet history before lending our computers to others.
2.  Gucci Gucci (Kreayshawn) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WJFjXtHcy4]-  We like to believe that we are the equivalent of Kreayshawn and V-Nasty, hence our blog nicknames.  We're also both jealous of the classiness of the string hanging out of her nose that connects to her ear. One of us literally has dreams where she becomes Kreyshawn and holding back soft, soft sobs, struck by the pain of never being that gucci  And finally, remember, Gucci Gucci, Louis Louis, Fendi Fendi, Prada.
3.  Sounds of Silence (Simon and Garfunkel) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zLfCnGVeL4&feature=fvst]-  We use this song as our power tool for shutting down a conversation.  It's not a slow termination, it's immediate.  We last sang this in the trunk of a car on New Year's Eve.  There was a casual banter happening in the front from which we felt discluded.  One low mutter of "the souuuuuuuunds of sileeeeeence," and the car broke into a deafening silence and uncomfortably nervous glances.  This song is to be used for emergencies only.
4.  Hair (Gavin Creel) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFy-yzj02FE]-  We often find ourselves in situations in the trunks of cars.  Here begins another one of the those stories.  Whilst attempting to cause another uncomfortable silence, L-Nasty (equipped with all the lyrics) initiated Hair.  Unfortunately, R-Nasty did not know any of the song.  So L-Nasty was forced to whisper the lyrics to her before each line.  This in fact became an even stronger asset as everyone in the car began to fear us.
5.  Person of Interest (Rebecca Black) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljbZKQIUZvM]-  Finally, we come to Rebecca Black.  "When she sings, we listen, and we like that."  While some may say that Friday was the peak of her career, we beg to differ.  Justin Bieber is not child-like enough, so the boy in this video really gets us going, yeah.  We also admire her lack of shame in ending every sentence with yeah.  Yeah.  Yeah.

Lil Jon ft. Diesel Playa and Verbose Loaf

Our Little Nuggets

These are our little chunks of lovin': Potash (Po!) and Furgeson!

P-Menace aka Diesel Playa

F-Dilly aka Verbose Loaf

(Music video to come!)

Fun activities you should try (maybe)

1.  Dress yourselves in paper bags for a photo shoot.

2.  Nickname all your close relatives after dictators.  Examples we have used include Kim Jong-il I, Mao Zedong, and Joseph Stalin.

3.  Make a blog.  Write about all about feces and post it on facebook.

4.  Wait until your grandpa refurbishes the rubber bumpers on the dock, then proceed to saw them off with butter knives.

5.  Tell the above story at your grandfather's funeral while people look at you as though you are mutants.

6.  Make collages from tampax and skinny cow advertisements.

7.  Decide to go for an enjoyable bike ride in the Northwoods.  Make sure your bike chain falls off.  Stop passersby.  Make sure they are dressed in only Harley Davidson clothing and have large, grey beards.  Use their phone to call for help while peeing yourself.

8.  Dress up as forced laborers in mumus and caftans and eat dinner off the floor.  Try to flinch every time someone talks to you.

9.  Sleep on a raft all night long.  Make sure it's freezing and that coyotes are howling in the (not so far off) distance.  It is imperative that you lose your blanket to the lake whilst urinating all over yourself.
10.  Poop in the ocean.  See if it floats!

Weekly photo #1

Size of whale shark compared to bus.

Whale shark facts you must know before reading on

Whale sharks are the largest fish in the sea; the largest ever reported ranging around 65 feet (the length of 65-foot long #2 pencil).

Though many debates have arisen around this issue, the whale shark is thought to live up to 60 years.

It has a white belly, like the cream of an Oreo as you sensuously separate it from its brown counterparts.  Or, like the soft tip of a blister after you have spent the day getting jiggy with it.

These tender giants have no predators, and will allow the occasional human rider.  So get up close and personal.