Time to donate, sleepyface.

As we are hopefully approaching the zenith of our fund drive, why not take a closer look at what got us here. And what better way to observe than looking at some hard data. We all like numbers, right? For example:

NUMBER OF TIMES NOAH HAS BEEN ARRESTED: 9
NUMBER OF OUR FRIENDS WHO ACTUALLY LIKE NOAH: 0
NUMBER OF TIMES MITCH HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM A PLANE FOR HIS PUNGENT ODOR: 1
NUMBER OF TIMES MITCH HAS BEEN LET BACK ON A PLANE AFTER BEING SPRAYED DOWN  WITH DEODERIZER: 1
NUMBER OF MIKE’S SISTERS WHO HATE MIKE: 3
NUMBER OF CHILDREN BUCK BAKER WILL NAME BUCK: MORE THAN 1
NUMBER OF TIMES ALEX HAS MASTURBATED: 3,432,234,567
NUMBER OF TIMES ALEX HAS MASTURBATED INTO A DIRTY SOCK: 3,432,234,567
NUMBER OF TIMES A MINUTE TIM THINKS OF NUDE FEMALE BODYBUILDERS: 63
NUMBER OF PEOPLE WHO WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT ALEX SCRATCHING HIS DINGLEBERRIED GRUNDLE, NOT WASHING HIS HANDS AND THEN MAKING AND SELLING MEAT PIES: THE ENTIRE BEND HEALTH DEPARTMENT
NUMBER OF AFRICAN-AMERICAN ATHLETES WHO RESEMBLE MAHLER: 3

 
Separated at birth?

But I digress. What we’re really here for is to analyze who has come to our site, and how the fuck they found us. These are all real stats found using our website tracker. To begin:

UNIQUE VISITORS TO WISHWEWERENTFRIENDS.COM: 14,239
Let’s not get carried away here, folks. This many people have not really been to our website. For example, I already know that SK not only logged in at 7:30am, but also at 7:55 from his parents house in New Jersey this morning between morning homoerotic crank sessions. This counts as two unique hits. Still, an impressive number nonetheless. That gives us an average of 21 visitors to the website per day, ranking us as the 112,432,389,997th most popular website on the interweb.

MOST VISITED DAY OF THE WEEK: MONDAY (16.98% of all visits)
MOST VISITED HOUR OF THE DAY: 2-3pm (7.01%)
There is really no rhyme or reason to either of these stats, because we rarely post on this site, so there is nothing special to check for on Monday, as opposed to Tuesday or Thursday. Also, most of us lack any sort of "job" so 2pm is not any more important than any other time. It’s not surprising that Saturday and Sunday are our least viewed days of the week, since most of our friends are usually binge drinking to blackout status with our other loser friends.

HIGHEST MONTH: MARCH (1,194)
I’m guessing there is a hirsute reason for this one. I will say that January was our biggest month since last March. Judging by our recent hits and fund drive, I think we’ll probably go public and be millionaires by about 2092.

MOST POPULAR COUNTRY: USA (12,864 visits)
4th MOST POPULAR COUNTRY: CHILE (150 visits) - Obviously Mike has very little to do, or he is trying to show his girlfriend how cool he is back in America. Oh wait.
5th MOST POPULAR COUNTRY: AUSTRALIA (133 visits) - SK
6th MOST POPULAR COUNTRY: SENEGAL (114 visits) - SK’s a loser.
7th MOST POPULAR COUNTRY: KOREA, REPUBLIC OF (101 visits) - This was about the time SK’s girlfriend realized she could find a far bigger penis on an Asian baby.
NOTABLE OTHER COUNTRIES WHO HAVE VISITED WISHWEWERENTFRIENDS.COM:
SWEDEN (13), NORWAY (9), FINLAND (8)  - Scandinavian girls love ugly guys who are losers and talk shit about each other constantly.
IRAN (7) - The only representative from the Axis of Evil.
LAO PEOPLE’S DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC (1) - Obviously.

MAIRK! This photo has nothing to do with the post.

Now let’s get to some exciting stuff. The google "keywords" that brought outside visitors to our website. Some notable ones over the past few days that brought people here: "FUCKING SENIOR CITIZENS," "SEYMOUR BUTTS NAKED" and "SPEEDO HIS BUTTOCKS."

ASSORTED GOOGLE KEYWORDS:
GAY (65 visits)
HAIRY (23)
FAT, LELCHUK (BOTH 17)
MEN, YOUNG, TIM, SEX, PORNO (ALL 16)
BODY, PENIS, TRAINING (14)
COCK, BEARD (12)
MAHLER, LIP, DICKS, COLLA (8)
FUMANCHU, HOMOEROTIC, CARING, GOATEE, PAPPAS (7)
HIS, CUM, HANOVER (6)
HOMO, MASTURBATION, PATCHES (5)
SCROTUM (4)
KOREAN CUPID, HAVE, EJACULATED, SELLECKS (3)
FUCKING, LEBANON (3)
NUTSACK, REPUBRIC (1)

From all of these various way that internetters have found WWWF, it’s clear that this site has to continue. If you have not yet, please donate to keep the dream alive. But don’t give too much because Tim and Alex will certainly never tell us once we get past $250.

Love,
Gabe

P.S. And for anyone who would like to actually play Number Munchers: http://www.virtualapple.org/numbermunchersdisk.html   Note: This might fuck up your computer as it did mine.  Mike, watch out for the TROGGLES!

    With our massively successful website now in its second year, I thought it would be a good moment to look back at some of our favorite posts of all-time. As SK has apparently ceased communication with all of his (non)friends, what a better way to start WWWF Classics than to remember his famous, and only, entry from February 26, 2007.  Not only does it remind us of how bald SK has become (which has probably gotten exponentially worse since this picture was taken), but by looking at the fascinatingly horrendous picture below, it also selfishly makes me feel a hell of a lot better about my deteriorating hair situation. So, read on, and remember SK. Maybe this will get him to pipe up and give us an update on his Southeast Asian So-Called Sexcapades.

Baring it All: Ruminations on the Balding Process

By SK

I recently spent a romantic weekend with an older woman at a plush tropical resort on an idyllic island.  It was a weekend, of course, filled with all of the accoutrements we would hope for and expect from a member of our challenged crew - feelings of inadequacy, awkward Freudian slips, ejaculations so premature they should have landed in an incubator at Dartmouth-Hitchcock, followed by blowjobs so endless and unsatisfying that I could only guess at the irritation and anger roiling through this woman’s much more sexually-experienced medulla.  I sheepishly made my way off by boat on Sunday afternoon, my top-heavy pack nearly toppling me into Gulf of Thailand, weighted down with all sorts of needless gear which I had so gleefully bought only months before from various establishments in West Lebanon, New Hampshire, and had sweetly organized in Glad bags on the floor of my bedroom.

Having escaped back to Bangkok for a week of holing up in my guest house before flying out of this shame-inducing country, I felt safe and comforted for one of the few times since leaving the womb in Lyme and venturing out on the "journey of my life," for which, I have since learned, I am desperately unprepared.
 
Perched on a stool in a brightly lit internet-cafe, I happily commiserated with my comrades on WWWF and felt a little bit less lonely in my pathetic relationship to the female species.  Then I checked my email and was once again plunged into the morasse of deep, spirit-raping depression when I saw the photo pictured here.  Taken by my lady-lover, and apparently sent to me in some fit of cruel revenge for having so boyishly occupied her vagina over the past days, I retired to the bathroom where I managed to do the only thing I’m good at - clogging toilets the world over.
 
Yes, world, I am a rapidly balding 24 year-old.  I make no bones about it.  Actually, fuck that I make multiple bones about it - Why God?  Why have I been thus cursed??  Why the fuck am I going bald???
 
After passing through this initial phase of despair, I once again take refuge here with you, my undesirable yet unshakeable group of "friends."  For there are those among you, yes it’s true, who share my dark fate.  Let’s see…well I guess I’ll start closest to home.  Smalls, I fear that your receding hairline has not yet quenched its thirst for smooth, babylike hairlessness.  Good Saul, who is editing this post and who hopefully has enough integrity in journalistic freedom not to strike this sentence, yes Saul, you are thinning faster than Alex wishes that he were.  And TColla, as I no longer fear physical retribution due to our being separated by thousands of miles of ocean, I feel that I must reiterate David Spade’s age-old wisdom, as told to Michael Bolton - no matter how long it gets in the back, we all know what’s happening on top.  And Noah, sad, sad Noah, whose pride is so blinding that he just can’t for the life of him admit that he doesn’t wear a hat 23 hours a day just because he’s got a misshaped head - no, no, you do it because you’re going fucking bald.  I suppose that, as a fellow victim of early onset hair loss, I should let you in on the little secret that wearing a hat accelerates the process.  Accept who you are man!  Free yourself!  There are others among you…Draper, I sense some latent baldness inside of you; and for some reason (maybe I had some inside info) I really sense that Michael Ashley will be horribly, frighteningly bald in the near future. Of course, every group of men has to have its king among them, and it goes without any deliberation to crown that man on top of his malnourished peach locks - William Kitzmiller, we bow our heads in thanks and praise to you for making us all feel a little bit better about ourselves (and so you can put some sunblock on our bald spots, it’s real hard to see on top like that).
 
Some of you have the privilege of laughing at this story of mine.  But there are those of us who live this hell everyday, and we hate you very, very much.  To all of you, but especially to those of the group who don’t have to be careful in the shower not to rub the volume-enhancing shampoo in too hard lest it wrench a few more sprigs from their nests, honestly and truly, I wish we weren’t friends. 

mous·tache [muhs-tach, muh-stash]

1. the hair growing on the upper lip
2. such hair on men, allowed to grow without shaving, and often trimmed in any of various shapes.
3. hairs or bristles growing near the mouth of an animal.

Lack of mous·tache [lak of muhs-tach, lak of muh-stash]

1. possessing a vagina
2. A huge pussy
3. sadly, Gabe (me)

Standing naked in front of the mirror, post-shower, can be a vulnerable and humbling experience.  Usually I check out a potentially expanding love-handle, or a sprout/many sprouts of hair appearing in places where they just should not be. But today was different. Today, I stared not at my bare torso, but instead at my naked and uncovered upper-lip.
 
You see, I pussed out. I’m in the doghouse. When growing moustaches was the coolest thing since sliced bread, I was a giant uncut loaf. 

Back in February it was all “moustache this” or “moustache that” or “hey, I can’t wait until I have my MOUSTACHE.” Now, in March, it’s all “hey, nice moustache” or “check out my sick moustache” or “my name’s Tim and my name’s Alex and we are going to make a movie about our moustaches to country music” or “that hot girl at worked really liked my moustache even though I have no chance of hooking up with her. Still, she really liked my moustache.” Call me selfish, but bare-lipped Gabe can’t help but feel a little left out.

Ok, I know what’s coming: a multitude of comments from people like Noah telling me how much of a pussy I am. (Don’t worry, Noah, I’ve saved all of your homophobic comments on WWWF in a dossier and will present them to your next employer. And to your parents, Scott and Laurie: (603) 643-6493). 

So what’s the solution, you may ask?  The only logical move is to do the one thing any good Jew would do: paint a Hitler moustache on my upper lip and post it on our website for gazillions of people to see! (When I say gazillons of people, I mean a google plex minus a google plex +12).

If you, like me, are not man enough to have a non-digital moustache, please send your nude-lipped photo to admin@wishwewerentfriends.com. If you’re lucky, you might get a special moustache painted on as well! Hurry up!!

So Mairk turned 24 yesterday. Whoop-dee-doo happy b-day Mairk, I’ve got something to tell you: NO ONE CARES! That’s because of a much more important birthday that didn’t occur: BRIAN MAHLER TURNED 5^3/4!  As he was born on February 29, 1984, a leap year, Mr. Mahler only gets to celebrate but once every four years. Sadly, 2007 was not one, but we can still honor Brian because of the fact that he truly does still act like a five-year-old—an incredibly immature, deflowered and alcoholic five-year-old.  So take five candles and put them in a cake. Then take another candle and cut off a quarter so but only three-quarters remain.  Then add one for good luck. Then light all 6^3/4 candles and give three cheers and a non-happy birthday to our young friend Brian. At this rate, he’ll be dead by age seven.

It was a normal night at 125 Ainslie St in Brooklyn. Tim, Anya and I were sitting around the TV, and of course ALEX was there. Sweet. He had invited himself over again (he has his own keys now…a scary thought, I know) and had initiated some sort of fart or poop discussion. Here’s how it went down (all 100% true):

Alex: When I poop I’ve been wiping blood a lot

Tim: Awesome!

Gabe: I have a huge penis.

Anya (apparently a hemorrhoids expert): That means you have hemorrhoids!

Alex: It usually comes on my 21st-27th wipe of the day.

Gabe: That’s disgusting. I have a huge penis.

Tim: I’m really bad at contributing to this website.

Anya (a definite hemorrhoids expert): It comes from straining. You have hemorrhoids, Alex.

Alex: Shit.

Gabe: That sucks. I have a huge penis.

So there you have it folks. Make your own conclusions, but it seems our friend Aldo is taking a little ride on the Hemorrhoids Express. Here’s to a long voyage!

Welcome to the first edition of Googly Gabe’s giggly links of the week!

The first installment will focus on where our friends appear prominently across the World Wide Web (Click on everyone’s names to take a peek into their internet persona)!

ENJOY WEBSURFERS!

CHRIS: Our friend Chris is a prominent part of the Jets offense, starting fourteen games at tight end last year. He even had four touchdowns! Way to go, CHRIS!

NOAH: No joking around here. This article is actually by Noah. And it’s about women’s crew. Look closer and you’ll see that he even got credit for taking that picture. Noah, is that your girlfriend in the middle? Oh wait, she wouldn’t touch you with a 27-foot pole.

ALEX: Take a look at what our friend Alex is up to. Apparently he is an advocate of traditional French cuisine, and he’s even written a book! He also has this movie trailer.

ROB: A little internet investigation led me to track down our webmaster’s first attempt at a site. Not bad. But take a look at his picture. He looks to be pretty not not high.

TOM AND GABE: A little known fact is that these two former college roommates actually co-starred in an award-winning short film! Ok, it didn’t actually win any awards but it’s worth a gander. And while we’re on YouTube, you can check out when I get kicked in the head with a soccer ball.

SAUL: Here’s our friend Saul at his best: defending damage that he inflicted on his dorm. Way to stick it to the man!

DAVE: Mr. Slutton’s got a great MySpace page to view, including some disturbing pictures of young children.

MAX: This is incredible. Apparently this woman, Katherine, has her own personal shrine to Max. It even contains this quote: “Okay, yes, I am obsessed with him, I admit that.”

MAIRK: Five years at Northeastern and you don’t know about the spiritual center?! There’s more than religion there, Mairk.

VENTI: In case we all forgot, Brian had an inner ass disorder.

MIKE, PAPPAS, TIM, SMALLS, DRAPER, DICK, MAHLER, RORY, WILLY, SAMSON, GCRS, GERBER, NOAH’S TWO BROTHERS, RYAN VAN ZANDT AND KYLE MORIN: Sorry you didn’t grace the first links post (I’m sure Noah will send me an angry email), but here is a special link for all of you.

That’s all I got for now. If you have any more good links (not tubgirl.com), send them our way.

After a long deliberation concerning the future well-being of his upper lip, Opeation Iraqi Freedom vet, Corporal Max Rifkin Sterling, 2nd Recon Batallion (Retired), has made the bold decision to join a new platoon—Team Moustache March! The announcement came as most might expect—Sterling left a blackout message on my phone at 4:31am while “taking a number 3” in the bathroom.

The message can be heard by conveniently clicking above. Who said we weren’t technologically savvy (we, of course, meaning Webmaster Rob)? So knock yourself out with Max’s wise words, and stay tuned in the coming days (or weeks or months) for a fancy new voicemail section on WishWeWerentFriends.com!