I had procrastinated long enough. I have been shrugging off others comments and suggestions for months. I found every reason to not move forward with it and debated my friends over and over again. The cost was too high. I haven't got the time. But then, I finally crumbled and went along with the rest of the crowd.
Yes, I bought "The DaVinci Code" by Dan Brown now that it is available in paperback, and have begun reading what others have been raving about and encouraging me to read for months. And you know what, this book is pretty damned good.
What's that?!
Well, what did you think I was talking about??
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Show me the money
Last night, my mom gives me a call because she was looking through the Gazette and saw my name along with my old address in Germantown on an advertisement for unclaimed property. At first, I'm thinking this is some sort of scam, but the list has like 100,000 names on it, so this would be a very elaborate scam.
So, this morning, I call the number that was listed with all the info. and ask the lady I speak with what it is that I have unclaimed. After verifying my identity, she informs me that it is likely a refund on an overpayment of my property taxes back when I lived in Germantown...and that the amount is OVER $1000!!!!!
HELL YEAH!!!
So, I went online and printed out the forms that I have to send to the government to claim this money. And within a few short weeks (or months...this is the government we're talking about) I'll be getting a fatty check for this money I never knew I was owed. What a solid find!
If you wanna see if you're owed money by the state of Maryland, you can go search for yourself at www.marylandtaxes.com under the unclaimed property section.
So, this morning, I call the number that was listed with all the info. and ask the lady I speak with what it is that I have unclaimed. After verifying my identity, she informs me that it is likely a refund on an overpayment of my property taxes back when I lived in Germantown...and that the amount is OVER $1000!!!!!
HELL YEAH!!!
So, I went online and printed out the forms that I have to send to the government to claim this money. And within a few short weeks (or months...this is the government we're talking about) I'll be getting a fatty check for this money I never knew I was owed. What a solid find!
If you wanna see if you're owed money by the state of Maryland, you can go search for yourself at www.marylandtaxes.com under the unclaimed property section.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Why is everyone so drunk?
I was back in DC this weekend and it seemed only fitting that I make a trip out to the bars since the area had been without the J-Man for two straight weekends. I mean, who's going to sit in the corner of Millie & Al's, ogle the underage chicks, and get loaded on cheap beer and jello shots?!
So, there I am, sitting in the corner of Millie & Al's with Catheter Man and Ike, ogling the bachelorette parties (it was one of those nights), and getting loaded on cheap beer and jello shots, when the night got real ugly, real fast.
We sent Ike to get a round of beers and after a few minutes, I turned around to see what was taking Ike so long. He turns back at me, only to reveal that he was talking with an ugly bachelorette, and he explains that he is taking so long because this girl finds it spectacular that she and Ike are getting married on the same day...and she's also peddling her taped-on candies.
Bachelorette parties are weird. They always have candy nipples and penises and all sorts of edible shit taped to them. Then they grab random guys and have them eat one or even worse, pay to eat one off of them. Is this supposed to be funny? On my bachelor party, I'm gonna tape a bunch of hot dogs to my pants and walk around with my dick out too. Let's see how many chicks wanna deal with that kind of Russian roulette.
Now, back to the freak show. Ike returns to the table and after a few more rounds I decide to take a trip to the bathroom. This is usually a disaster at Millie & Al's as the line is normally down the stairwell (which it was later in the night) and there's only two pissers. At this moment, there are no guys in line, but there is a guy in front of me walking up the stairs. And then he promptly fell down the stairs. Seriously, he fell face first right near the top and slid like 6 stairs down until he was right in front of me. Then, he stood up, made no joke or cover up and continued right up the stairs again and into the bathroom. I wonder if he even realized something was wrong?
Back at the table, it's gotten really crowded and a second bachelorette party has stumbled in. It's the most bizarre occurrence when two bachelorettes see each other. Normally, women seem to hate each other at the bar, but throw a crown and a white vale on them, and all of a sudden they're like old high school buddies who haven't seen each other in 10 years. These two almost went at it right there...and perhaps our encouragement (along with the guy sitting next to us) might have had something to do with that. "Last chance to be a lesbian, and this is the place to do it" seemed like a decent exclamation at the time. It drew no harsh looks.
But these two weren't the worst of the PDA. About 15 minutes later, a couple starts going at it right behind me. This guy is groping her ass, her tits, and ramming his tongue down her throat. I think if Catheter Man hadn't pulled out the camera and taken an awkward shot of them to draw an end to this display, I definitely would have syphillis right now.
So, we wrap it up at Millie's, and move on to a quick empanada (you can read Catheter Man's take on this debacle), and then Ike and I jump in a cab up towards Van Ness, where I hop on the metro toward home.
Is the night of oddity over?...not even close. The puking hasn't even begun. But this time it's not me.
I'm sitting on the metro and these two chicks are sitting at the end facing towards me. One of them is looking in two different directions, and I don't think she has a lazy eye, so bad times are on the way. Her friend miraculously produces a plastic grocery bag and let the games begin. At this point, we're only at Tenley Town, and this chick continues to fill the bag, all the way til Bethesda, at which time she changes seats with her friend, perhaps because I'm giving her the most horrified look in the world. What did she eat? That's about the grossest thing I've ever seen. And that's because I didn't see this.
What I have failed to mention in this whole story is that my buddy Zack started the evening with us at 8 PM by driving over to my place and taking the metro down to Kupe's with me. After 3 hours of pre-gaming, he headed off to meet some others and when I tried to call him at 1:30 AM when I finally left Millie's, he didn't answer. Well, sure enough, as I exit the metro, my cell. rings and it's Zack. He's just been "escorted" out of a relatively nice bar, after having had several shots. And if you've ever drank with Zack, several shots is not a good thing...and neither is Zack's final recollection of his evening:
"So, I start feeling real sick and I don't know where the bathroom is, so I just puke into a glass and put it on the bar. And the bartender and all are like, you need to leave. And I'm like, 'I justed puked in a glass. I definitely need to leave.'"
The best part of the story is that in all three times that he told it to me during that conversation, as well as the one more time he told it to me after I went back to get him from the metro, he never really seemed to know for sure whether or not this event really happened.
I can hardly believe any of this really happened.
So, there I am, sitting in the corner of Millie & Al's with Catheter Man and Ike, ogling the bachelorette parties (it was one of those nights), and getting loaded on cheap beer and jello shots, when the night got real ugly, real fast.
We sent Ike to get a round of beers and after a few minutes, I turned around to see what was taking Ike so long. He turns back at me, only to reveal that he was talking with an ugly bachelorette, and he explains that he is taking so long because this girl finds it spectacular that she and Ike are getting married on the same day...and she's also peddling her taped-on candies.
Bachelorette parties are weird. They always have candy nipples and penises and all sorts of edible shit taped to them. Then they grab random guys and have them eat one or even worse, pay to eat one off of them. Is this supposed to be funny? On my bachelor party, I'm gonna tape a bunch of hot dogs to my pants and walk around with my dick out too. Let's see how many chicks wanna deal with that kind of Russian roulette.
Now, back to the freak show. Ike returns to the table and after a few more rounds I decide to take a trip to the bathroom. This is usually a disaster at Millie & Al's as the line is normally down the stairwell (which it was later in the night) and there's only two pissers. At this moment, there are no guys in line, but there is a guy in front of me walking up the stairs. And then he promptly fell down the stairs. Seriously, he fell face first right near the top and slid like 6 stairs down until he was right in front of me. Then, he stood up, made no joke or cover up and continued right up the stairs again and into the bathroom. I wonder if he even realized something was wrong?
Back at the table, it's gotten really crowded and a second bachelorette party has stumbled in. It's the most bizarre occurrence when two bachelorettes see each other. Normally, women seem to hate each other at the bar, but throw a crown and a white vale on them, and all of a sudden they're like old high school buddies who haven't seen each other in 10 years. These two almost went at it right there...and perhaps our encouragement (along with the guy sitting next to us) might have had something to do with that. "Last chance to be a lesbian, and this is the place to do it" seemed like a decent exclamation at the time. It drew no harsh looks.
But these two weren't the worst of the PDA. About 15 minutes later, a couple starts going at it right behind me. This guy is groping her ass, her tits, and ramming his tongue down her throat. I think if Catheter Man hadn't pulled out the camera and taken an awkward shot of them to draw an end to this display, I definitely would have syphillis right now.
So, we wrap it up at Millie's, and move on to a quick empanada (you can read Catheter Man's take on this debacle), and then Ike and I jump in a cab up towards Van Ness, where I hop on the metro toward home.
Is the night of oddity over?...not even close. The puking hasn't even begun. But this time it's not me.
I'm sitting on the metro and these two chicks are sitting at the end facing towards me. One of them is looking in two different directions, and I don't think she has a lazy eye, so bad times are on the way. Her friend miraculously produces a plastic grocery bag and let the games begin. At this point, we're only at Tenley Town, and this chick continues to fill the bag, all the way til Bethesda, at which time she changes seats with her friend, perhaps because I'm giving her the most horrified look in the world. What did she eat? That's about the grossest thing I've ever seen. And that's because I didn't see this.
What I have failed to mention in this whole story is that my buddy Zack started the evening with us at 8 PM by driving over to my place and taking the metro down to Kupe's with me. After 3 hours of pre-gaming, he headed off to meet some others and when I tried to call him at 1:30 AM when I finally left Millie's, he didn't answer. Well, sure enough, as I exit the metro, my cell. rings and it's Zack. He's just been "escorted" out of a relatively nice bar, after having had several shots. And if you've ever drank with Zack, several shots is not a good thing...and neither is Zack's final recollection of his evening:
"So, I start feeling real sick and I don't know where the bathroom is, so I just puke into a glass and put it on the bar. And the bartender and all are like, you need to leave. And I'm like, 'I justed puked in a glass. I definitely need to leave.'"
The best part of the story is that in all three times that he told it to me during that conversation, as well as the one more time he told it to me after I went back to get him from the metro, he never really seemed to know for sure whether or not this event really happened.
I can hardly believe any of this really happened.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Me and NYC
Sorry to take so long on posting something new, but two weeks of travelling and the whole time change bullshit have taken their toll on the J-Man and have left me completely lazy. A return to my routine for a week should get me back into form and with the start of the pool season, I'm sure the jackass stories will soon flow like urine down a special kid's leg.
So, as I mentioned, I took a trip to NYC for the weekend to celebrate my buddy Scott's bachelorhood. For those of you hoping for stories of strippers, hookers, excessive testosterone displays and the like, you should stop reading now and go directly to scatlovers.com you filthy degenerates.
Now, here's the rundown:
We started things off right, heading right to the bar at National airport for a quick round of beers before our 45 minute flight. Good times are in the air, as a younger MILF with huge boobs starts talking to Dave and informs him that she is heading to "Hot-lanta." No, I'm not making that up. No, seriously, that's what she said. I swear.
So, after we finish that round, it's off to the plane and on to the realization that the Delta Shuttle is the greatest airline in the world. We've just taken off when the steward (yeah, he was gay) offers me a snack package. As a seasoned flyer of two weekends, I immediately shoot back with, "Is it free?" (classy, I know) Well, guess what...it was free. Two chicken fingers on a bed of lettuce with white carrot pieces, honey mustard dressing, a Kit Kat and a mint...for free. And it's only a 40 minute flight? And then Catheter Man got a beer...and it was free!!! So, he doubled up...no questions asked!!! What the hell kinda flight is this?!!! I just went to Vegas where I was in the air for like 5 hours and I had to illegally mix my own drinks when the flight attendants weren't looking, and these guys are handing out free beer. God bless whoever came up with this. I am never going anywhere by plane other than Boston or New York, so I can take the Delta Shuttle. In these times of struggling airlines, it's nice to see that someone is not afraid to serve cold chicken tenders and give away 8 oz. of Bud Light's finest. Marvelous. Simply marvelous.
And we're in NYC.
We check into the Hilton Millenium, right by the site of 9/11, and we immediately notice that the double beds are not much more than a glorified twin bed. It's an awkward moment as Catheter Man and I look at each other and then 230 lb. Smitty, and rapidly decide that we're best served sleeping with each other and leaving Zack, who hasn't arrived yet, with the privelage of spooning with Dave. It is only at 7 AM the next morning when Catheter Man rolls over and tries to cuddle me that I realize that I may have made a mistake. "I thought you were Takoma (his dog)." Is that any better???
But back to Friday night. We head out to an Irish bar that is actually owned by Scott's fiance's dad. He's not there, but we settle in anyways and order a round of beers and some food, since the chicken finger salad alone can not fill me for the whole night. Before the food can come, I decide it's time for Scott's first round of shots, and I inform our 100% pure-bred Irish waitress that we need a round of shots. I give her the liberty of choosing the shot...which leads me to my first bit of advice to anyone who cares to listen. If you are at an Irish bar and want to get a round of shots, don't ask an Irish person to choose it for you. "All I shoot is Jamieson and so that's what you'll be havin' since I'll be havin' one wit' ya." Nice start to an evening, that's for sure. I took control of the shots from that point on and it seemed only fitting that Scott drink Red Headed Sluts from that point on since his future bride is a red head. (no insult intended)
We relocate the party to a place called Fiddle Sticks a few hours and a $200 bar tab later. (Apparently on the house doesn't apply to the bachelor until the ring is on the finger). Oh well.
Fiddle Sticks is packed and it's "Golf Pros and Tennis Hos" night, which makes for some nice scenary. We're all pretty trashed, I end up making fun of some joker who's trying to impress some ladies by playing with his balls...tennis balls, that is, and Catheter Man's buddy Colediggy, after completely appaulling all of us with his knowledge of scatlovers.com and ratemypoo.com gets his come upance as he is accosted by some gay dudes. A good time is had by all and we close the place down at 4 AM.
On Saturday, we start things off real slow but eventually end up meeting up with everyone at Chelsea Piers for a couple rounds of bowling before heading off to Ruth's Chris for steak dinner. I have to say this was the greatest steak dinner I have ever had in my entire life, and what made it even sweeter is that Scott's dad met us for dinner and picked up the whole tab. Yeah, the whole tab. For Ruth's Chris. In NYC. With like 12 of us there. And we weren't drinking water either. Hell with toasting the bachelor, here's to his dad.
We wrap up there and head to a comedy club where Darrell Hammond is the headliner. He's remotely funny, though if you've watched Saturday Night Live, you've seen most of his best bits. The opening act was solid however, and the continuous drinking always makes a comedy club more enjoyable. It's about midnight when the show ends and we're all pretty full and drunk, but no one is willing to admit they want to call it a night.
We fight on and head to another Irish bar where a round of Jager bombs (I think we had some?) brings us back to our senses. The place is kinda dead so we only stay for a bit, then move on to our final destination. Not sure where we went, but the place had a juke box and the night closed out with my request, in honor of Scotty, "Sweet Caroline." It is truly an homage to Scotty's single life, because the last time I heard it when he was around, he had just pulled his undershirt over his head at Millie & Al's and a random girl was rubbing his nipples. Ugh. I think I just threw up in my mouth. And I think I did at the bar too, so we called it a night, and a weekend.
A solid performance and a definite improvment from my last trip to New York, when I was punched in the chest and robbed by a large black man who was claiming to sell my buddy a fake ID, and when I was charged $60 at Runway 69 for buying a stripper a rum and coke and then telling her to get the hell away from me. Actually, I guess anything would have been an improvment from that, and I did get a banana at the airport as we were departing.
It'll have to do since we never saw the Unhappy Gorilla.
So, as I mentioned, I took a trip to NYC for the weekend to celebrate my buddy Scott's bachelorhood. For those of you hoping for stories of strippers, hookers, excessive testosterone displays and the like, you should stop reading now and go directly to scatlovers.com you filthy degenerates.
Now, here's the rundown:
We started things off right, heading right to the bar at National airport for a quick round of beers before our 45 minute flight. Good times are in the air, as a younger MILF with huge boobs starts talking to Dave and informs him that she is heading to "Hot-lanta." No, I'm not making that up. No, seriously, that's what she said. I swear.
So, after we finish that round, it's off to the plane and on to the realization that the Delta Shuttle is the greatest airline in the world. We've just taken off when the steward (yeah, he was gay) offers me a snack package. As a seasoned flyer of two weekends, I immediately shoot back with, "Is it free?" (classy, I know) Well, guess what...it was free. Two chicken fingers on a bed of lettuce with white carrot pieces, honey mustard dressing, a Kit Kat and a mint...for free. And it's only a 40 minute flight? And then Catheter Man got a beer...and it was free!!! So, he doubled up...no questions asked!!! What the hell kinda flight is this?!!! I just went to Vegas where I was in the air for like 5 hours and I had to illegally mix my own drinks when the flight attendants weren't looking, and these guys are handing out free beer. God bless whoever came up with this. I am never going anywhere by plane other than Boston or New York, so I can take the Delta Shuttle. In these times of struggling airlines, it's nice to see that someone is not afraid to serve cold chicken tenders and give away 8 oz. of Bud Light's finest. Marvelous. Simply marvelous.
And we're in NYC.
We check into the Hilton Millenium, right by the site of 9/11, and we immediately notice that the double beds are not much more than a glorified twin bed. It's an awkward moment as Catheter Man and I look at each other and then 230 lb. Smitty, and rapidly decide that we're best served sleeping with each other and leaving Zack, who hasn't arrived yet, with the privelage of spooning with Dave. It is only at 7 AM the next morning when Catheter Man rolls over and tries to cuddle me that I realize that I may have made a mistake. "I thought you were Takoma (his dog)." Is that any better???
But back to Friday night. We head out to an Irish bar that is actually owned by Scott's fiance's dad. He's not there, but we settle in anyways and order a round of beers and some food, since the chicken finger salad alone can not fill me for the whole night. Before the food can come, I decide it's time for Scott's first round of shots, and I inform our 100% pure-bred Irish waitress that we need a round of shots. I give her the liberty of choosing the shot...which leads me to my first bit of advice to anyone who cares to listen. If you are at an Irish bar and want to get a round of shots, don't ask an Irish person to choose it for you. "All I shoot is Jamieson and so that's what you'll be havin' since I'll be havin' one wit' ya." Nice start to an evening, that's for sure. I took control of the shots from that point on and it seemed only fitting that Scott drink Red Headed Sluts from that point on since his future bride is a red head. (no insult intended)
We relocate the party to a place called Fiddle Sticks a few hours and a $200 bar tab later. (Apparently on the house doesn't apply to the bachelor until the ring is on the finger). Oh well.
Fiddle Sticks is packed and it's "Golf Pros and Tennis Hos" night, which makes for some nice scenary. We're all pretty trashed, I end up making fun of some joker who's trying to impress some ladies by playing with his balls...tennis balls, that is, and Catheter Man's buddy Colediggy, after completely appaulling all of us with his knowledge of scatlovers.com and ratemypoo.com gets his come upance as he is accosted by some gay dudes. A good time is had by all and we close the place down at 4 AM.
On Saturday, we start things off real slow but eventually end up meeting up with everyone at Chelsea Piers for a couple rounds of bowling before heading off to Ruth's Chris for steak dinner. I have to say this was the greatest steak dinner I have ever had in my entire life, and what made it even sweeter is that Scott's dad met us for dinner and picked up the whole tab. Yeah, the whole tab. For Ruth's Chris. In NYC. With like 12 of us there. And we weren't drinking water either. Hell with toasting the bachelor, here's to his dad.
We wrap up there and head to a comedy club where Darrell Hammond is the headliner. He's remotely funny, though if you've watched Saturday Night Live, you've seen most of his best bits. The opening act was solid however, and the continuous drinking always makes a comedy club more enjoyable. It's about midnight when the show ends and we're all pretty full and drunk, but no one is willing to admit they want to call it a night.
We fight on and head to another Irish bar where a round of Jager bombs (I think we had some?) brings us back to our senses. The place is kinda dead so we only stay for a bit, then move on to our final destination. Not sure where we went, but the place had a juke box and the night closed out with my request, in honor of Scotty, "Sweet Caroline." It is truly an homage to Scotty's single life, because the last time I heard it when he was around, he had just pulled his undershirt over his head at Millie & Al's and a random girl was rubbing his nipples. Ugh. I think I just threw up in my mouth. And I think I did at the bar too, so we called it a night, and a weekend.
A solid performance and a definite improvment from my last trip to New York, when I was punched in the chest and robbed by a large black man who was claiming to sell my buddy a fake ID, and when I was charged $60 at Runway 69 for buying a stripper a rum and coke and then telling her to get the hell away from me. Actually, I guess anything would have been an improvment from that, and I did get a banana at the airport as we were departing.
It'll have to do since we never saw the Unhappy Gorilla.
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