Monday, October 30, 2006

Et tu Halloween?

Well, 2006 continues to be one of the worst years thusfar and I hoped that old faithful, Halloween, would not let me down and would once again provide me with a hilarious weekend of excessive drinking, elaborate costuming, and general debauchery.

My costume idea did not come to fruition until last Wednesday, but my hopes were high after I decided on... '70s High School gym teacher. You would think this is an obscure costume and really couldn't be pulled off, but let me just explain that I will go to great lengths to complete a perfect Halloween costume. And this one required a complete transformation.

I started with the black afro and 70s porn star-esque mustache. Then I picked up some red, white and blue head and wrist bands, and a coaches whistle, and we're on our for clothing. The shirt would be easy, a simple gray t-shirt (extra tight, of course) and what to wear for pants???? Oh yeah, the bootiest of booty shorts, complete with high cuts on the side of the thigh to show off my manly legs. Sadly, they don't sell such things for men, so after a long laughing session with the guys from Finish Line at Montgomery Mall, I decided that women's large would definitely work. But we're not done yet. You gotta have the high socks with the colored stripes, and old school generic shoes, courtesy of my brother.

To ensure that everything is good to go, I do a quick trial run wearing of the costume on Friday, only to discover two problems. One, I'm gonna freeze in this outfit. And two, I have no underwear that is going to protect you (my readers and friends) from seeing more of me than you really ever wanted to. So there I am, on Saturday afternoon, in the mens bikini underwear section of Macy's awkwardly pulling the trunks out of a box to see if the elastic seems adequate to hold "everything" in place. After finding a good pair, I swing over to the athletic wear section and pick up some retro warmup pants, that I assumed I would wear to and from parties and the bars, only to tuck into my shirt as a gut once I arrive. Hell yeah, a transforming costume that never leaves me out of gotta love it. Expectations are high.

First older brother's place for his gathering at 7. We stroll up there, it's pretty low key, especially with my parents and grandmother in attendance, but it's a good starting point. Sadly, we have to excuse ourselves rather promptly at 8:30 to move on to our next gathering at my younger brother's place. Yeah, good brotherly planning, I know??!!

So we walk up into there, but the lighting is much brighter and everyone is immediately appauled by my pasty white upper thighs and generally sleazy look. Oh yeah, this is gonna be a good evening. Shots are flowing now, an entire bottle of Jager is killed, I'm snapping pictures left and right and we're anticipating a 10:30 departure to M Street for a bar crawl.

And that's when things take a turn for the worst. I did not pre-sign up for the bar crawl, having never done it before. Typically I just visit my usual haunts (hey, double meaning) in Adam's Morgan and just enjoy the added horniness and outgoing feeling that Halloween brings. But, when in Rome, my friends. So it's off to Front Page. Kevin and his crew get a head start as I'm waiting to meet up with someone in Rockville when they depart. We're about 15 minutes behind them, sitting on the metro when I realize that one of the worst things has just occurred. I have lost my cell. phone.

Yeah, for those of you that have lost your cell. phone before, you know my pain. I am too shit-faced to know exactly where I lost it, and no one is answering it when I call my number. This is not good. I'm out of touch with everyone, but thankfully I actually know my younger brother's cell phone number, and they're inside Front Page when we get off the metro and discover the longest line this side of Chipotle at lunch hour.

We wade through the people to get to the ATM, since it's cash only, then push our way to the last stand that still has wrist bands, pay $15 for a wrist band and wait in yet another line to get into the bar. Now, I've been to Front Page before and this bar ain't all that...especially for this kind of line. But, remember, when in Rome. We finally make it to the front of the line, when what do you know? The rest of the group is starting to leave. What!!??? Yeah, they're moving on to the next bar. You're kidding me??!!! We're outnumbered, and the Caesar has made his call, we're moving on.

So we walk outside and over to Madhatter...and the longest line this side of the Fedex Field bathrooms at halftime. And it ain't moving. I am now losing my buzz, growing increasingly angrier with the loss of my cell. phone and there is no end in sight. So, I make the executive decision that we're ditching this bar crawl bullshit and finding a bar without a line. Is this a Roman uprising?? Yes, indeed.

So, we stroll past Sign of the Whale...packed. Lucky Bar...mobbed. 1223...even worse. And I give up. We're standing in line outside of Five. I am beaten, bruised, and almost completely sober. Kupe ends up bailing at this point, feeling the same anger. And it is only a few minutes later when I am stabbed by the mob of people around me and forced to retire to the metro in disgust.
Yes, even Halloween has turned against me this year. But I am not done...I will regroup for an even better 2007. Thankfully, I now have these booty shorts and bikini drawers to prepare me for next year's costume which I have already begun planning for...Jack Tripper. So, who wants to be Janet and Crissy? Oh yeah, and I did find this guy:

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

A Solo Wedding

This past weekend, as I mentioned, I headed up to Long Island for my buddy's wedding. It was a momentous wedding in that the two had been dating for 7 years (yeah, even they joked about it in their vows) and that it marked the first wedding that I have ever attended alone.

When you're just out of college and someone has a wedding, being alone may not be that much of a big deal, since most of the people at the wedding are not married or in long-term relationships, justifying bringing a date along with them. In those cases, it's just a great big party, where everyone has a hotel room and the liquor is free-flowing.

However, when you're close to 30, being alone means that you are like the "new kid" in school. You're trying to be outgoing and fit in, but everyone else already has their cliques set up and when push comes to shove, you're eating lunch with the smelly guy and the guy that eats his boogers.

So, there I am at 11 PM on Saturday, drinking Capt. & Coke number eight; sitting alone at our table with an old buddy from high school, who I really haven't spoken with in several years, barely able to hold a conversation from lack of mutual knowledge of each other and because the speakers for the band are positioned right behind me. Meanwhile, everyone else is out on the dance floor dancing about. All I needed was for the fat bass player in the band to come over and take my lunch money and we've got our perfect scenario.

Don't get me wrong, it was a good time. The food was good (Chinese food at the cocktail hour...hell yeah) and knowing most of the people there made it definitely easier to deal with the change. But hopefully, by May, I'll have a date for my next scheduled wedding. Or maybe I'll just join the chess club.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

J-Man: Smooth as Gravel

So, it's been a little while since I brought up the whole experiment, and my attempts to find a few dates without leaving the comfort of my desk to do so. Anyway, things were looking pretty positive on that front...getting tons of girls looking at my profile, and about 3-4 a day either emailing me or "winking" at me, so I definitely have a lot to choose from. I've picked a few here and there that I liked what I read, so I sent them a quick email. Winking is gay, so I refrain from doing that, but that's just my opinion.

After these four weeks, I've set up for different blind first dates. It's a bit of a process to get to that point however. First, I have to send them my initial email, where I try to crack a joke or relate to one of their interests that I have in common with them. If I'm lucky (and trust me, not all of them write back, go figure?), I'll get an email back to me. If I'm really lucky, it'll be more than a quick note that gives me no feeling whatsoever as to what to do next.

You see, unlike a real conversation, an email conversation with a complete stranger, becomes very difficult when you have nothing to work with. At least in person, you have the same environment around with which to talk. But you know me, I'm not a talker...I'm not a talker. So, you make it through a few emails, a few new topics come up and a bond seems to be forming. Now it's time for the next conversation.

Yep, enough of the 24 hour delayed responses, it's time for instant feedback... or awkward silences. So, I've made these calls, cracked a few jokes, dealt with my dog howling in the background (more on her later...that little bitch), and eventually set up for a real date. Did I really say this was gonna be easier than picking up women in a bar????

So, I'm sitting pretty. Got these dates lined up. Ready to put on my 'A' game. But where to go? The first girl let me choose. She lived in Bethesda, so I chose a bar that has billiards for some drinks and possibly pool. This was a two-fold move. One, by having a game of pool to keep us occupied, awkward silences could merely be perceived as deep thought on the next shot. And two, even if the date sucked, if I continue doing this for all of my dates, I will eventually get better at pool. So, it seems like a win-win for me.

All goes well on the first date, we have a few drinks, play some pool, and eventually call it a night with the thoughts of a second date. But I get distracted with other things, lose track of the days, and the next thing you know, it's been two weeks and I haven't called her. And she hasn't called me that's dead.

Date #2 was the debacle at Baileys with the Sox fan I mentioned before. After pulling teeth for the first hour, things loosened up a bit, but she was "tired" and despite saying that she was actually having a good time and wanted to go out again, I decided a quick email note to her a couple days later just to see what she was up to would be the end of my attempts...and it seems the feeling was mutual.

Date #3 went really well, or so I thought. Again, I chose to go to play pool (perhaps that's my problem...but hey, I'm getting better) and she and I had a few drinks and had a lot in common. We made plans to possibly do something the next day and I told her I'd give her a call to set that up. Learning from my earlier mistakes, I actually did call her the next day, but only got a voicemail. Three days later, I got an email. The night after our date (we did something in the day because it was her friend's birthday that night) she ran into her ex-boyfriend and decided they would give it another try. She insisted that I was one of the greatest guys she's met and would definitely have been interested in dating me, but "they had history." And I am history. Nobody can drive a girl back to her ex-boyfriend like the J-Man. What can I say?

I think I may start selling my services: Just had a breakup? Want to get her back? Give her one date with me and she'll come crawling back. Sweet.

So on to Date #4. This one actually seemed the most positive of the bunch so my expectations were high, and I was not let down. We grabbed some dinner (her call...and maybe better than pool) at a place by her house, and had a few drinks while just shooting the shit. Now, I'm a story teller (if the blog didn't tell you) but this girl had stories upon stories, and I'm loving it. All seems well, (but didn't the others??) and we make plans to see each other again this week before I head out of town. Surprisingly, she called me to see about doing something the next day!! Unfortunately, I was busy, but said I would be free the rest of the week if she wanted.

And she actually did. She called yesterday, while just down the road in Bethesda, and wanted to see what I was up to. After mulling over few options and realizing that I had just gotten home, and she had mentioned being exhausted, I asked her to come over to my place to watch a movie. J-Man, finally laying some smooth down.

She came over, and that's when I realized that I already had a girlfriend. A jealous one. A short, furry, jealous one. Chloe is having no part of me being anywhere near this girl, nipping at my hands while I'm on the couch and trying to sit between us. I'm sure Amy taught her this just in case of a breakup...clever indeed. So, finally, I take Chloe upstairs and lock her in my room, where she proceeds to howl for the next 20-30 minutes. What a cock-block.

Needless to say, Chloe alone could not stop me from being anti-smooth, and making no moves towards improving my 5-month drought.

And now I am packing for a weekend wedding for my boy, Zack, up in Long Island. Hell yeah, you say? Just like Wedding Crashers...the women will be ripe for the picking? Think again...I've already been informed by the bride that there will be no single women in attendence. Are you kidding me?!!

So, this weekend, you can picture me, chillin at the wedding bar, drinking Iced Teas, because I hear they make em pretty good up there, not getting any and awaiting my next anti-smooth adventure.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

J-Man: Teen Heart Throb

Is it a good thing when the majority of your "celebrity look-alikes" have been on the cover of Tiger Beat magazine? I am especially psyched to have Jason Priestly as a strong 2nd place...yeah, that's Brandon Walsh, bitches.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Who Let This Guy Out?

Man, have I been slacking on writing new posts. Well, soon work will get a bit lighter and I won't be completely exhausted when I get home, so maybe I'll post more consistently then. As for now, you'll just have to deal with the spattering of incoherent babble. And what's more incoherent babble than a story that involves me playing beer pong.

So, last Saturday, just over a week since I had my final jaw wires removed allowing me to eat, talk and smile without pain, I decided to throw a barbeque at my place. I picked up some burgers, dogs, chicken, beer, crackers and dips, and mixed up some pasta salad, anticipating a crew of about 10-15 people. Knowing that the crew would also be a bit guy-heavy, I made the move that would determine the evening for several unlucky visitors to my house. Yes, I pulled out a table, twelve solo cups, and two ping pong balls. Not much more needs to be said about that.

Hours pass, over 100 cans of Miller Lite disappear (yeah, I ain't shittin you) and it is merely 10 PM. The burgers were amazing, or at least that's what I remember. The dog is going ape shit. People are playing 'Sorry' on my basement floor...WTF??? And Langley and I are running the beer pong table like Tiger Woods on a PGA tour.

So, where should a crew like this head? Well, out on the town of course...and we're off to DC and Madhatter's. The ride's a bit hazy down to Langley's place, where I think we only were for a few minutes before grabbing a cab over to the bar. We're the first to arrive, and a whole second crew is also planning to meet us, but I'm in a zone of stupidity that can't wait until others arrive.

I don't know how it happened, but the next thing you know, I'm talking with this chick and telling her about breaking my jaw. She's telling me about how she broke her nose and then decided to have it completely redone, since she was having a surgery anyway, and all I'm thinking about is how hot her friend is and wondering why her friend is bitterly sitting down in the midst of this crazy bar.

I should have left sleeping dogs lie once her friend told me that she just broke up with her boyfriend, but the challenge draws me in (like a girl refusing to laugh when I do the Roger Rabbit in front of her). So I proceed to ask her her name. She tells it to me, but I'm too shit-faced and it's too loud to hear anything. So I ask again. Again, I've got nothing. So I ask again..saying what I think she said. Not a smart idea J-Man. She tried one more time to answer before storming off in disgust at my obvious incoherence. And yes, ladies and gentlemen, it appears as if Johnny Smooth is back.

The next couple hours is even more of a blur, though the other crew rolled in from a birthday party and I remember being handed a truly unnecessary SoCo-Lime shot and a couple more beers, before I am now magically talking to yet another girl that goes to UVA. I'm baffled when she says she lives in Charlottesville, not fully comprehending that cars can travel long distances to allow girls to go out in DC even when they don't live here...and then we're dancing. Yeah, your guess is as good as mine. I'm surprised I was even forming complete sentences let alone convincing a girl to dance with me??? All appears to be going well, until a buddy of mine, that I actually grew up with but don't see all that often, decides to 'playfully' head butt me right in the temple.

Owwww. Why would you do that? In a bar?? While someone is dancing??? What in god's name is going on here???? Why would you do that?????? (He's laughing. Having a good time.)

Well, this makes me dizzier and now I realize that I have to take a piss, so I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Did I say I'd be coming back?? Who knows. Because after suffering through the second worst bathroom this side of Dan's Cafe, the girl has mysteriously disappeared and is now dancing with another one of my buddies. In a drunken state, I am now transformed into bitter J-Man and lack of sleep and 10 hours of hard drinking are catching up to me. And Langley just pulled an Irish goodbye.

Thankfully, the lights go on in the bar, and it's time to head for the metro. The rest of my crew heads out with me and we're cruising back to sitting all alone, stewing about that fact and the impending 1 mile uphill walk from the metro to my house. Somehow I managed to muster the energy to make it home, and thankfully my football game was cancelled in the morning, because even a noon wakeup seemed early.

God bless being able to eat and drink normally again. Man, have I missed these retarded outings.

Monday, October 02, 2006

Brain Farts 6

Well, there's a lot of little things that I've seen over the last couple days that I really couldn't put all of them into one real post. So, as I've done in the past, I'll just throw them all together in a big jumble and call it a Brain Fart....not quite as fulfilling as the full shit, but still funny.

  • So, after being on for two weeks and finally getting my braces taken off from the jaw injury last week, I decided it was time to see about setting up to meet one or two of these girls. One girl in particular mentioned her love of the Red Sox on her profile and even goes so far as to say that she has slept in her hat for luck in the past. Those of you that know me, know that I am a Yankee fan and crazed Red Sox fans are always amusing to a kid brother who wants to be like the big kids but isn't quite old enough yet. Anyway, despite the obvious conflict which may ensue if she is, in fact, a Red Sox fanatic and discovers I'm a Yankee fan, I decide to write to her and eventually end up meeting up with her last week. She lives in Arlington and since I don't get out in that area all that often, I let her decide where we should go. And where does she decide? A sports bar in Ballston that I've only been to once see the Yankees beat the Red Sox in the 2003 ALCS Game 7 on an extra-innings Aaron Boone homerun, putting them in the World Series. You can't write these kind of coincidences.
  • My brother had a party at his place last weekend, so I decided to head over and hang out with his crew. We end up heading out to Bethesda late night and these two girls that he knows end up coming with us. They're both shitfaced from drinking and watching Notre Dame earlier in the day, so it's a big gong show as we roll into Caddies. At one point, one of the girls has been surrounded by some Indian guys that she's talking to, so her friend decides to grab her and pull her grabbing the back of her pants. She ends up reaching far down the girl's pants and almost gives herself a stink palm, which leads to this winning line from the girl that got pulled. "Holy Crap, I think I just got a colonoscopy. I'm pretty sure I owe somebody a co-pay." I almost pissed my pants.
  • Finally, yesterday, my buddies and I headed to the Redskins-Jaguars game as our annual Redskins game trip. The game itself was amazing, but what made it even more amazing is that when I bought my first beer, the guy who sold it to me told me to keep the cup and bring it back to him, and he'd keep filling it. Unsure as to what he meant, I said, "for free?" to which he gave me a grin and head nod. Ike and Catheter Man encountered the same exchange when they separately bought their own beers, and Catheter Man made the first refill attempt. Cup filled...cost: $0. Needless to say, nothing makes me more excited than free beer (well, ass dimples do) so it's open season on pounding beers. 5 beers for $13 (I tipped him, of course) at a football game?? God bless that man.