Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Vegas Kicked My Ass...Again

I have returned, I have recovered from my two day hangover, then my mini-cold, and now I can grace you all with yet another disasterous escapade in the land of sin. I rolled out on Thursday night and after the painfully long set of flights, I finally arrived in Vegas at 10:30 PM (or 1:30 AM, my time). Do hot women not take plane rides? I mean, has anyone ever had an attractive woman sit next to them on a flight? I don't travel all that much, but I would have imagined at some point a remotely attractive woman would have sat next to me or at least in my row. Instead, I got a smelly Indian on the first flight and a guy who really thought the arm rest was his exclusively on the second flight. Thankfully, Vegas and the women in the Hard Rock would make up for this.

After locating my two buddies who also came in one day early, we grabbed a cab, headed to the Hard Rock, and proceeded to gamble until our eyes bled. The highlight of this night was calling my brother after I had lost $500 and finally decided to get some sleep, to remind him of a job that needed to be done that day back at work. Oh yeah, it was 8:30 AM Eastern Time when I made this call. Vegas.

On Friday, we headed down to the pool, truly the crowning jewel of the Hard Rock hotel, and grabbed a few chairs in prime view of the northern pool. The scenery was especially nice, as was expected, but what wasn't completely expected was this exchange which occurred across the pool from me.

An attractive and "fake" woman had been walking around trying to strike up conversation before finally sitting down by herself and revealing the tiny bikini and thong she was wearing beneath. She danced in her seat for about 20 minutes before the large group of guys to her left (another bachelor party, I assume) began talking with her. About 10 minutes later, she was gone. I wasn't sure where she'd gone, but after she left a second, not as attractive girl showed up and sat in her seat. She too began talking with the guys, and it was not for another 15-20 minutes that I got a complete understanding of what was going on.

It was at that moment when the first girl, and one of the guys, came walking back to the seats together. She sat down next to the new girl, while the guy walked over to his buddies. And then we have our moment of Zen. One of the other guys hands the second girl some money, we'll refer to her as the "Madam", which she places in her purse. While reaching into her purse, she pulls out a small bottle which she hands to the first girl, we'll refer to her as the "Ho". Apparently, the madam handed her a bottle of hand santizer which the ho used to clean herself from what likely just occurred. Ah, Vegas.

So, the day moves into night and soon the remainder of the crew has shown up and we're heading to do what bachelor parties do...go to a strip club. Unfortunately, the strip club across the street is standing room only and we've got a large crew. The owner tells us to come back on Saturday, a bit earlier, and he'll hook us up with table. So, we leave, saddened by our inability to see naked women that don't require the use of any sort of word savvy to get them to take their clothes off. But wait...this is Vegas.

It is at this moment that a Hummer limo pulls up (or nearly hits us as we cross, not sure exactly) and offers us a winning deal: A ride to another strip club, a table at that strip club, and a bottle of liquor at the table...$20 per person. Are you kidding me? There is a god and he wants us to see titties. We jump into the limo, Eminem and Xhibit are blasting, and the night just got a whole lot better. Ah, Vegas.

On to Saturday. Ha, you were expecting more?? Anyway, we returned to the pool but saw no obvious Ho-John transactions, which was a bit of a let down. The quality of women was also a bit lower, but it's all relative, as plastic and silicone are pretty standard stuff. I bail from the pool a bit early because I'm exhausted, and unfortunately miss out on two of our crew getting loaded and pretending to be bouncers for the VIP dance area around the pool. How did they get away with this, you ask? Well, one of them is a 6'2", 280 lb. black man that resembles Mike Tyson. He apparently gets away with a lot...and he's only just begun.

We try to clean things up a bit and head over to the Bellagio to grab some dinner buffet. After waiting in line for more than an hour (yeah, I ain't shitting you), we finally get in and I am sorely let down that there is not gold sprinkled on the food after a line like that. Eating a buffet after two days of heavy drinking and minimal sleep is tough, so the buffet, like the table games, kicks my ass...even though I went heavy on the sushi. That's not all bad, as the madness is about to begin and to be completely full of food would have been a buzz kill.

So, 10:30 rolls around, we're all cleaned, showered, and pimped out for our trip to Body English, Hard Rock's dance club. But we're not just going to the club, we're going VIP. Two tables, four bottles of liquor and an overhead view of the dance floor...plus no waiting in line, we cruise on in and start hitting the liqs. But there is one thing that must be done. The bachelor must be made to feel like an ass...it's only appropriate since he is about to say goodbye to single life. So out comes a bright yellow T-shirt, covered in flashing buttons courtesy of our buddy who works at a promotions company.

Words can't really do the shirt justice, but imagine a giant walking Christmas tree in a classier, somewhat exclusive dance club, and you're heading in the right direction. But what could have been a classic disaster, turned into the greatest social move in the history of bachelor parties. Women are flocking to the lights like it's a homing beacon for vagina, and soon we've got a full blown party going on with the liquor flowing and people dancing in every direction. But just like a good gangster movie, the high times lead to the terrible lows. And nothing leads to a terrible low like a 6'2", 280 black man that resembles Mike Tyson, taking off his shirt and jumping on the couches of the VIP room. He is left to his own accord for about 10 minutes, before someone tells him to put his shirt back on, which he proceeds to do...backwards. Oh, boy.

It is around this time that a second disaster hits...we're out of booze. Yep, four bottles doesn't go very far when you're mixing for yourself and about 30 random girls. It's still early, so I take the plunge and hand my credit card to the waitress to order us up another three bottles. What I wasn't expecting was for her to bring me back the three bottles and a slip of paper saying they were $1100!!!! Ah, Vegas.

It is at this point, that I become the Vodka nazi and scowl at all random women approaching the booze. This will likely lead to me not getting any ass, but I'm still graced with sharp wires across my jaw and enough liquor to make my dick non-functional, so I'm not too concerned. A haze covers the rest of the night for me, but Tyson got tossed and then paid to get back in, all but about 20 buttons were handed out making the bachelor's shirt less flashy, and Vegas has once again kicked my ass.

Vegas, a nice place to visit. Thank god I only do it every once in a while.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Full Circle, Part Duece

Just over 6 months ago, a bout of bad luck began for me that included people hitting my car, damage to my work vehicles, an unexpected cell. phone outage, the need for all new car tires, and a terrible outing to Vegas that saw me end up down $1400...and of course, you know what happened after that.

So here we are, the jaw is healing, I survived a three day weekend without injury, my car is apparently working fine (please god), and I am a mere 4 hours away from a plane trip taking me to none other than Sin City, Las Vegas, Nevada.

I have come full circle. The bad luck is now behind me. I believe the town of Las Vegas owes me $1400 and this Jew is starting his new year (Tova Rosh Hashannah) off right. A new beginning is upon us. Viva Las Vegas, bitches.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Full Circle

Well, it was only a matter of time and a matter of stupidity before I would make my way back to the location of my injury...the Rockville Sportsplex. Last Friday, after 11 weeks of surgery, rehab, medical bills (oh yeah, I never touched on this disaster), and learning to chew food again, I pulled my blue jersey over my head and got in my car, returning to the field for the first time since the accident.

As I drove, a combination of excitement and fear filled my stomach, as I got the uneasy feeling like someone rising up the initial slope of a roller coaster. Should I be going back to play this soon? Should I be going back to play at all?

The doctor had informed me that my bone had not completely healed at this point, and was merely reconnected by a callous, one that does not have the strength that my original bone had. He suggested I not even consider playing any contact sports until February, if ever again, and explained that repairing a second break would not be as "easy" of a process. It would be a process that required grafting bone from my hip. YIKES.

So, why do I continue to drive? Why am I putting myself in a position where I could be forced to go through this unbearable process again?

It's hard to explain the force that was driving me, and I can only assume that someone who has had something stolen from them or maybe even lost a loved one could relate in some small way. This was something I loved doing. Something I looked forward to each and every week. Something I was good at, and getting better each and every week. And then I stopped doing it. Not because I wanted to, but because someone forced me to.

So, as I parked my car, and grabbed my gym back, I knew what physical danger stood in front of me. And I also knew what mental danger stood behind me. I needed to go back, prove to myself that no one could stop me from doing what I wanted but me. Not a doctor, not my family, and certainly not the guy who sent me to the hospital.

24 lbs. lighter...two rows of braces still on my jaws...11 weeks without practice or lifting...and terrified inside like a base jumper on the edge of a bridge, I threw myself into the game. I had come full circle, a slight detour, but I had made it back.

And wouldn't you know it...two sore quads prevented me from doing much of anything. God works in mysterious ways. I didn't even think about my jaw for most of the game, because I was too concerned with how to relieve the tightness in my legs. It forced me to run slower and limit the amount I could play. Apparently, whether I wanted them or not...I was given training wheels. Who cares, it's good to be back.

Monday, September 11, 2006

NFL Predictions

Unfortunately, I forgot to post this prior to the start of the season, but I was getting a bit burnt out on sports talk with 3 Fantasy Baseball teams all competing for a championship and 3 Fantasy Football teams starting off the season, plus an NFL Pick 'em League to boot. But coming out 3-0 after the first weekend of the play and winning a Pick 'em League with over 100 people in it by only missing one game, has fired me up again. So, you too can benefit from my apparent NFL picking prowess. And here's where I think the boys are gonna finish this year.

NFC East
1. NY Giants - Too much talent for even an inexperienced Eli to botch things up
2. Washington - Preseasons mean absolutely nothing...look at what the Steelers did last year. They'll start off slow but the easy schedule early on will help them cruise into a Wild Card spot.
3. Dallas - Their QBs will be their downfall. They may have better arms than Mark Brunell, but they don't have better heads.
4. Philadelphia - They're just not as good as they used to be.

NFC North
1. Chicago - This division is crap. They'll coast to the division win and may even get home field as a result.
2. Minnesota - Brad Johnson is underrated, but there is nothing to work with at the skill positions
3. Detroit - Roy Williams is the only bright spot on this miserable bunch.
4. Green Bay - I'm not sure they'll win more than one game, if that.

NFC South
1. Atlanta - The defense took a big step forward and Michael Vick is going to regain the aura he once had
2. Carolina - A great offensive and defensive line, but I'm not sold on the running backs.
3. New Orleans - Reggie Bush and Drew Brees have brought new hope to the Saints
4. Tampa Bay - They really aren't as good as last year would make you think.

NFC West
1. Seattle - Defending NFC Champs didn't really lose much from last year's squad
2. St. Louis - Moving away from Mike Martz was a good call
3. Arizona - The offensive weapons are explosive, but the defense is not so good.
4. San Francisco - They're still too young to be considered even a .500 team

AFC East
1. New England - Brady and Belichik just know how to win
2. Miami - Daunte Culpepper is definitely a step up from Jay Fiedler, but why did Minnesota let him go in the first place?
3. NY Jets - Chad Pennington is a really good quarterback, when he can actually use his arm.
4. Buffalo - JP Losman is not a good quarterback, and he shouldn't use his arm.

AFC North
1. Baltimore - The defense is always one of the best and Steve McNair still has some fire left in him.
2. Pittsburgh - Defending champs only lost the Bus, but their schedule is pretty tough this year.
3. Cincinnati - Another victim of a tough schedule, their team benefitted from a lot of takeaways last year...they won't have the same luxury this year.
4. Cleveland - Doo doo brown.

AFC South
1. Indianapolis - Losing the Edge will keep them out of the Super Bowl again, but they're easily good enough to take the division
2. Jacksonville - They have a strong defense and a growing offense, but I just can't trust Leftwich and Taylor to be healthy all year.
3. Houston - I really didn't think they were as bad as their record indicated last year, so they should bounce back.
4. Tennessee - If they win more than 2 games, I'd be shocked.

AFC West
1. Denver - Mike Shanahan always seems to assemble a good squad, regardless of whose running the ball.
2. Kansas City - I actually had them winning the division in my first draft, but after losing Trent Green yesterday, I'm dropping them down.
3. San Diego - Phillip Rivers and Marty Schottenheimer in the news will ruin the chemistry of this otherwise competitive team.
4. Oakland - Their offensive line is crap.

Redskins over Giants
Atlanta over Carolina
Denver over Miami
Baltimore over Pittsburgh

Redskins over Bears
Atlanta over Seattle
Baltimore over Indianapolis
New England over Denver

Atlanta over Redskins
Baltimore over New England

Baltimore over Atlanta

Yes, an unorthodox pairing but the AFC representative and Super Bowl champion will once again come out of the AFC North.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

J-Man: Internet Gigolo

As I've mentioned in past posts, I broke up with my girlfriend of 6 years back in May and then subsequently broke my jaw a few weeks later, taking me out of the dating game...hell, the eating game...for the last 3 months. With my mouth now unwired and my jaw braces a mere two weeks away from removal, I will soon be back to 100%. But then what?

This is a dilemma that likely troubles all single men. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, I've never had to deal with being single all that much. I had two girlfriends throughout most of college, then started dating Amy about 6 months after my last college relationship ended. Relationships are nice because I find it much easier to beg for sex than to actually have to go out and find it. (You guys in long-term relationships know what I'm talking about...don't even try and deny it). Perhaps it has always been laziness that has driven me to getting into relationships, because I'm just too damned lazy to keep going out and meeting new women.

With that in mind, I thought I'd be a bit proactive in my laziness. And what is the mecca for laziness? Why, the internet, of course. I don't even have to leave my house to meet women. Yes, ladies, the J-Man is now available for your dating pleasures through Match.com. (Yeah, I know J-Date would have been funnier on several different levels, but I'm not trying to discriminate against the goyim)

So, having seen a friend of mine use it before, I decided to make up a fancy profile (I think after writing a blog for a year and a half about my life, I can take a few moments to write two paragraphs), throw up a few classic pics of me in action, and see what happens. Now, you're probably all sitting there thinking to yourselves...J-Man, I think you could very easily find yourself a girl or two to go out with on your own, you don't need to be a loser and post on the internet.

Why, thanks. Yes, you're probably right. (Did I just have a conversation with myself?) But where is the fun of that? Plus, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this whole internet dating thing anyway, so I'm imagining there's gonna be some pretty funny stories to come out of this. I mean, the usual combination of me on my computer with pictures of women on the screen usually ends in masturbation, so we can only go up from here.

And these women wasted no time moving to action. I just got approved and had my profile end up online on Friday and 8 girls have already written or "winked" at me (Yeah, I know...the whole winking thing seems a bit weird) and a couple of them are actually pretty good looking. I'm more or less clueless with what to do next, but I guess determining that they're not 60 year old men would be a step in the right direction...then we'll see what happens.

Get ready my friends, this blog could start to get even more entertaining, because J-Man: Internet Gigolo is ready for action.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

OC's Finest

As I mentioned in the last post, I made it to Ocean City just after 1 AM on Saturday morning after a disasterously long drive. Given the time, and the fact that I worked outside in the pouring rain that day, we didn't really do much of anything that night, aside from shoot the shit and have a few drinks. Not what you'd consider a crazy night at the beach, but hey, I'm out of practice. On to the real Saturday.

I roll out of bed mid-morning and after a quick breakfast, we head out to grab some booze. It's still pouring rain, so the beach is out of the question. Looks like it's gonna be a day of getting tanked inside while playing board games. When in Rome, my friends...when in Rome. We didn't bring any games, so we headed to a thrift store called Roses to hopefully find some. Unfortunately, all we found was a store that looked like it was going out of business, clothes strewn about on shelves, and about 40 cases of head lice. Of course, they didn't have any more games in stock...so we bolted out of there and thankfully found a toy store at a mall a couple blocks away.

Being at the beach, I decided to go with the oh so festive Margarita on the Rocks and proceeded to pound those for much of the afternoon as we played Yahtzee, Scrabble, and a card game Rick's girlfriend taught us. You ever notice how when someone "teaches" you a new card game, they magically end up winning at that game. I mean, she pulled some backwards rules out of her ass right from the get go. "Yeah, I just cut the deck perfectly to deal out all the cards, so I get -50 points to start." Uh...what??!!! Uh...whatever...I'm at the beach, and I'm drinking. (I know some of my readers are shocked because I take board games very seriously...apparently I have been reconditioned once again)

The afternoon flies by, a couple of girls that work with Rick and were also around came by for a bit, and then we decided it was time to leave the confines of the room and head out for dinner and bar scenery. This is where things get ugly.

After a pretty good Italian dinner, we roll up into Fager's Island bar (yeah, I know) and proceed to get things rolling with a round of shots. Had we not been drinking all day, this might have been a good idea.

Let the onslaught of stupidity begin:

Within moments, we have found what can only be described as a stripper pole in the corner, and Rick's girlfriend, and the other two random girls from before (who magically appeared amidst my blackout) begin dancing around it. It doesn't take long for other random girls to pick up on this and we've got an overpacked dancing area on our hands. A few minutes later, we have our first casualty as a girl looks over at me, smiles, and then proceeds to fall flat on her back next to me. I help her up, and then proceed to do the classy thing...whip out my digital camera and take a picture of her as she stumbles away. I'm all class.

With that comedy behind us, enter a "larger" girl to the dancing area. Her and the rest of her herd begin pushing Rick's girlfriend off the stage, and that can't be good news for them given the amount of alcohol we've had thusfar today. Within seconds, Rick is informing them that there is a specific height and weight limit for the stage and they have exceeded both. They storm off in disgust and proceed to give Rick the finger during their departure and for several minutes after that. Apparently, classiness runs in my circle of friends.

But what about Rick's buddy...he hasn't offended anyone yet? Oh, just you wait. Moments later, we take a walk around the bar and pass by a large bachelorette party, doing what all bachelorette parties do...selling stupid candies and no chance of scoring. Rick's girlfriend tries to help the cause for us single guys by pulling one of the girls over to talk with us, and that conversation lasts about this long.

Her: Hi

Rick's Buddy: Did you have a ham and egg biscuit for breakfast? (apparently a reference to how short her skirt was, but bizarrely funny even if you don't understand it)

Her: (blank look...running away quickly)

We're all class...gonna be a good night. But what more could happen?

Rick ends up buying 5 lollipops from the bachelorette and starting a giant party for everyone within pointing distance as he's handing out orders (which were written on cards you got with the lollipop and that members of the party must do) including giving Mr. Ham and Egg a shot to drink with a fatty, and me a girl writing her name on my chest in lipstick. Wouldn't you guess her name was AMY? I whipped out the camera regardless and continued documenting what would soon be forgotten anyway. Now, on to the dance floor.

Decent music is playing and I'm in my own little world at this point, until a girl who I think looked sort of like Selma Blair, and was even more shitfaced than me stumbled my way. I don't know how or why, but the next thing you know, I'm dancing with this girl....well, carrying her and avoiding falling would be the best description. I think I'm getting dirty looks from people around me because I'm with the "drunk chick," but when a random girl rolls up to you after you've been 'without' for your longest spell since high school, and she's trying to kiss you and grab your wang right there, and you've been drinking all day...you tell me what you'd do.

What I did...was pass her off to someone else. Yeah. I know. But hey, I don't have herpes as I'm writing this (well...I don't think I do??) and I'm not sure I could say that if I had dragged her home. I mean, this is Ocean City we're talking about.

Things get really hazy at this point, but we regroup at the front of a concert stage as a cover band begins playing. The music is pretty good, though all I remember is 'Enter Sandman' playing while strobes went off and confetti fell from the sky. They finished their set, and the crowd cleared as the hip-hop music began pumping again. I'm not sure how what happened next got started, but apparently the stupidity meter had one more setting it could be raised to...and here's my best description of how this went down.

Like a scene from the Wild West, the prairie is clear as the crowd disperses leaving just Rick's girlfriend and myself standing there amidst the blowing tumbleweed (confetti...what's the difference) and a little Justin Timberlake pumping. Oh yeah, it's on. Yes, my friends...a dance off. Several minutes and maybe three songs later, and this bout is over. She just got served. I told you I was bringing sexy back. And that's a good way to end an evening.

You can't really follow up a night like that with any sort of story, so I feel my trip to the actual beach on Sunday would best be described by these two pictures of what surrounded us.

Yeah, you gotta love OC.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Disasters Avoided

So, as you can tell by the fact that I have written this post, I did not suffer a terrible accident over the Labor Day weekend, putting an end to my fear that I should avoid all three day weekends. But I wasn't too sure that was going to be the case as I started out on my voyage to OC on Friday night.

Having just written my last post, I decided it was probably best that I avoid eating my leftover Chinese food, and instead went with a bowl of Campbell's soup, before jumping into my car (without any injury) for my trip. Since I was going to be in my car a bit, I decided it would be smart to clean it up first, so I threw away like 10 empty Gatorade bottles that had piling up, along with some miscellaneous papers and such, and everything is feeling good as I pull out of my driveway.

I've got my iPod all prepped and pumping through the radio as I jump onto 495 on this rainy Friday evening at about 7:30. I figure I'm behind the rush hour traffic, and Rick, his girlfriend and his buddy have left around this time as well, so we should all arrive about the same time.

We did end up arriving about the same time, but that time was 1:15 AM. Yep, 6 hours to drive 150 miles...you do the math. On the other hand, don't do the math...let me give you a recap of this new Holiday weekend horror story.

As anyone who lives in the DC area will tell you, any precipitation falling from the sky causes the local drivers to downgrade their driving abilities from abnormally bad to Dustin Hoffman in 'Rain Man' status. Sure enough, the rain has all the 'tards going about 25 MPH around the beltway, even at this late hour. Luckily, the traffic breaks for me at around the split off for 95 North and I'm cruising again, all the way to Route 50 and past Bowie.

Everything seems good as I'm making back some of the time I lost from the Beltway debacle, and then I see the sign. 'Delays at the Bay Bridge: 9 Mile Backup.' Holy crap. This just went from bad to worse, and then I came to a screeching stop just short of Annapolis at around 8:45. And then I sat...and sat...and sat.

Normally, I would be fuming mad, getting very impatient, and contemplating just getting off at the next exit and turning around for the night amidst several expletives, but for some reason I am exceptionally calm and at ease. No, I wasn't high. I think the jaw rehabilitation and my concerns over some bizarre psychological side effects have finally shown the first sign of a change. I was forced to be patient, trapped inside the wires that bound my mouth for 7 weeks. Unable to get frustrated and rip them off, I became content...I became reconditioned. Well, whatta ya know?

So there I sat, completely fine with my situation. My first problem is not much of a problem after all. Crank up the tunes, drink another can of Pepsi (I brought two so I wouldn't have to stop) and watch the other drivers as we cruise on ever so slowly.

8 Miles and 2 hours later (I ain't shittin' you) and a new problem has developed. As delicious as those Pepsi's were a little while ago, I am regretting the obvious outcome which occurs when you drink 24 ounces of soda after a liquid dinner. My bladder is aching. And of course, I just threw away 10 perfectly good urinals a few hours earlier. Talk about dumb luck. There's no exit in sight, and it's gonna be at least another hour til I get to the toll plaza, just to try and cross the bridge. And then I stare down at them...the only containers left in my perfectly clean car, the empty Pepsi cans.

There is no way I'm gonna be able to pee in that small hole and to even attempt to put my dick near that sharp metal sends shivers down my back...plus it's still Friday, and I'm awaiting a horrible injury. I'd have to say cutting my dick off while trying to piss in a can in my car would definitely be classified as 'horrible.' But what other choice do I have? I must do something. So I take my thumb and smash it down into the top of the can...and the metal tears!!! Perhaps things won't be so bad after all. I'm able to push down the metal from the top of the can enough to make a large enough hole to minimize my fears (yeah, yeah, make with the small penis jokes...jackasses).

I am almost shaking with pain and have been pushing on my groin area for the last 5 minutes to try and hold back my pee as I whip my wang out and try to position myself to pee in the can. This would likely not be as awkward if the people in the other cars were not more or less at a complete stop around me, in an area flooded by headlights, but I tredge on...and oh, is it good. The can couldn't hold much, requiring me to do two pinch offs (ouch) and pour outs on the highway (like no one knew what I was doing) and I spilled a bit on myself (small price to pay), but I made it through another possible disaster unscathed. Now we're back on track.

After a quick stop at a Wawa to meet up with Rick and the crew, and we're both still west of the Bay Bridge at 11 PM. Rick made the executive decision to take the fine and drive through the EZ Pass lanes, saving us a good hour more of waiting, and we're up on the bridge cruising at 30 MPH (which is like NASCAR at this point). The wind is ridiculously strong, causing my car to sway up and down as I drive by trucks, but the ordeal is over shortly, the speed picks up, and all is good as we cruise into OC on a Saturday morning...the Holiday Weekend Horrible Friday has come and gone, and I am not in the hospital.

Disasters avoided...now on to the greatness of a weekend in Ocean City. Unfortunately for you, I'm tired right now so the stories...and some classic pictures will have to wait til tomorrow.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Labor Day Weekend

The last time a holiday weekend rolled around, I viciously had my face destroyed on the Friday night, thus eliminating any chance for fun the remainder of the action-packed extended weekend. So, here we are two months later, Labor Day weekend is upon us, and I have a somewhat full palette on tap for the entire weekend.

With that said, I'd like to thank everyone of you for reading my blog and our friendship over the years, as I am probably about to have another brutal accident occur within the next 8 hours...possibly life threatening. With that in mind, here's a few possibilities of what may happen, and the odds I'm putting with them.

Eat leftover Chinese food and contract internal parasite: 8-1
Fall down the stairs and crack a vertebrae: 10-1
Slam my hand in my car door, breaking several fingers: 12-1
Tragic victim of road rage: 7-1
Drive off the Bay Bridge en route to Ocean City: 50-1
Kidnapped by hillbillies at a gas station stop: 60-1
Eaten by wild dogs at the same gas station stop: 90-1
Alcoholic baffoonery turns tragic as I fall in the bay and drown: 4-1
The "old Ricky Paugh" returns and punches me in the jaw, rebreaking it: 25-1
Develop gangreen on my right testicle (Ike, this is the most disgusting ailment I have ever heard by the way): 100,000,000-1

If I was you, though, I'd assume the following: I'm gonna eat my Chinese food for dinner and give myself some serious stomach pain, which will force me to puke it up, but no parasites. The pain is gonna linger and cause me to flinch as I'm carrying my bags down the stairs to my car, and fall down a few. Luckily, I'll only bang up my arm as the weight of the bag will pull me down sideways. Unfortunately, just moments later, I'll end up slamming three fingers in my trunk after throwing my bags in the back. I'm still OK enough to head to OC, but when a crazed driver on the Bay Bridge mistakes my mangled fingers for me giving him the finger, he's gonna slam his car into me, forcing me to swerve into the edge of the bridge and bust up my car. After waiting with this douchebag for almost an hour in pouring rain on the Bay Bridge, some hillbilly in a tow truck will pull up and take me to some backwoods service station to fix up my car. Like most rednecks, he's gonna have a bunch of dogs, and they all smell Chloe and will therefore try to bite at me. After fighting off the dogs for 2 hours, the hillbilly will have completed a quick repair to make my car drivable and I'll continue on to OC. I'll arrive to an already drunk group of people because I've been so delayed, so I'll decide to take shots to catch up. This is a bad idea since I'm only tipping the scale at 162 lbs. now and the only food I ate, I threw up almost 6 hours prior to this. Obviously, I'll be shitfaced quickly and in an unknown environment, so it seems only natural that I would do something stupid, like fall in the bay. This will sober me up alot, but is hilarious to all the other people who are still drunk, including ol' Rick, who will decide to playfully jab me in the arm for this monumentally classic, stupid move. Unfortunately, it's the same arm I injured when I fell down the stairs earlier, and now I can barely move it. What's even more unfortunate is that it is my jerking off arm and with the overall craziness and pain I've endured already this day, jerking off seemed like a good idea. Not wanting to ruin the opportunity, I'll decide to use my right hand instead. Well, with three busted fingers and a lack of practice with the off-hand, I'll do something terribly wrong, causing me exceptional pain, and the eventual gangreen formation on my right nut.

Yep, I love these holiday weekends. Enjoy yours everyone.