Well, it's been a couple weeks since I last posted, and quite a bit has happened, including my attempts to work things out with my ex-girlfriend, which ultimately ended in an unpleasant New Years Day, and an eventual decision that we are no longer getting along and that we certainly wouldn't be able to last through another 2 years of long distance relationship. At least it was a breakup on good terms, and we had said that we would keep in touch and be friendly...if that is really possible.
You all know me. I laugh, I joke, and I try to fill my life with silly adventures like the one in my last post. But the truth is, no matter how much I keep my feelings to myself and shrug off these bumpy roads life has left for me, I'm still human and not having someone with you that you've had for over a year is tough. I keep going down this same road again, and with it, you always get crappy days like today...well, I guess it was yesterday since it's 1 AM and I can't sleep.
You see, while the internet has always been helpful to me, giving me this blog as a place to vent what I would usually keep to myself, giving me fantasy sports, and of course giving me porn, the internet has also given me, and everyone, a much easier way to keep track of all your friends. And that's where today's downfall begins. On the glorious website known as Facebook. Much like myspace, which I've blogged about before, Facebook allows you to see what past high school friends are up to, reconnect with lost college fraternity brothers, and unfortunately see when your ex-girlfriend of 10 days decides to put up an update that she's going to a "Dirty Doctors and Naughty Nurses" party.
And you don't even have to look on their page to find this information out, thanks to the "home" page which gives you recently changed info from your "friends" regardless of whether you wanted to know. And trust me, I didn't want to know. And I wonder if Jaclyn knew this when she posted it? Because she didn't use to change this feature very often. And I also wonder if the same was true when 5 pictures from this splendid gathering were posted this morning, and of these five, one includes a guy hugging her and playfully kissing her on the cheek?
Now perhaps I'm the crazy ex-boyfriend, and I'm over-reacting to an innocent picture of fun partying, and technically it's not my place to have any opinion what she does or doesn't do now, but why post this picture? And why do it 10 days after a one year relationship has ended? For all my readers who have had a relationship end in the past, I'm sure you, like me, don't want to know...and certainly don't want to see...if your ex is with some guy right after you breakup...especially when you supposedly ended on good terms. I know if I had a picture like this, I certainly wouldn't post it. I have tons of pictures on my computer from events that I don't post on Facebook. But I disgress.
So while today should have been an upbeat day watching the beloved Cowboys get their asses kicked, all I have been able to do is ask myself these questions over and over again, while that picture sits in my memories. I removed Jaclyn as one of my friends on facebook, because I just can't have these kinds of surprises popping up again. I wrote her an email to let her know why, but I haven't heard back from her. I doubt I will, and I now doubt a lot of things.
Like I said before, it's a path I've been down before, and I've made it through in the past. Ironically, I've got a large scratch from football in the middle chest that looks like I had open heart surgery. Time will heal both of these wounds, but for now, they both sting and make it hard to sleep.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Back at it
Well, here I am again. I turn 30 in two weeks, I'm barely working because it's the Winter, and I got dumped by my girlfriend on Friday night, leaving me single once again. With the increase in age and now free time, I guess it's back to doing what I seem to do best. Coming across random adventures of stupidity.
And I didn't waste much time, as I went out with some friends on Saturday to try and clear my head, as sitting around at home alone was getting very depressing.
So, the crowd wanted to head down to a place called Marvin in the U Street corrider, so my brother, his girlfriend and I grabbed the metro down to Dupont and hailed a cab in the pouring rain over to U Street to check this place out. It was OK, though very crowded, but most of the people in the group wanted to bail on it after a short while, and head over to a place called Bar Nun, where a guy we play football with bartends. My buddies Brian and Mike showed up right as the crowd was moving, so I told them I'd pass on Bar Nun (which upon further commentary didn't seem like my kind of place) and meet up with them if it was a good scene.
After another round of just the three of us, having not heard from my brother about Bar Nun, we decide to head over to St. Ex, where another friend of ours, Chad, said it was pretty fun. We get there, it's OK, and I proceed to suck down some Captains and a shot of Jamieson (not my call). It's getting late and I still haven't heard from Kevin.
Brian and Mike decide to bail, leaving me and Chad to finish our drinks, all the while being acosted by a fat chick that Chad did an improv class with. Fat chick doing improv...relying on her wit...who would have guessed?
Seeing no redeeming virtue in anything further at this place, we decide to just head over to Bar Nun to see what's going on. We walk over there but are shockingly unable to get in since we are two single dudes, even though it is like 2 AM. We assume this is kind of gay, so Chad takes off and I call my brother to tell him to come leave, since we were ready to go anyway. He and his girlfriend comes out and tell me all about the place. And here is actually why they wouldn't let two dudes in:
IT WAS FUCKING SWINGERS NIGHT!!!
Yep, Kev said they were only letting couples and single girls in and the place was for people to meet up for group sex. To encourage the mood, there were Asian women walking around in thongs, short school girl skirts and no tops. Kevin was approached by the owner (female) about having a three way. And I am so glad we decided against even following them there.
So on to the metro. After wandering for about 10 minutes trying to get a cab, we walked over to the U St metro completely soaked and had to get on there...randomly getting a cameo from Chad departing from McDonalds to give us directions. Unfortunately, the U St Metro is on the green line, which meant we had to take it to Gallery Place, then switch, before heading out to Grosvenor...and I had to pee.
I make it all the way to Tenleytown before I am literally in physical pain I have to go so bad. Everyone with me (we ended up meeting up with two girls that we knew that got on at Dupont) is saying we're only a short way away, and to hold it. And then the worst thing possible happens...they stop midway between Tenleytown and Friendship Heights because of track work. At this point, I get up and start combing the train for a bottle (yeah, it was that bad), but all I find is a grocery bag with a bag of sub rolls and some deli meat in it. Luckily, the train starts moving again, so I think I'll be OK. We pull into Friendship Heights and then we stop...and sit. Kevin's telling me to run out and pee in the trash can, I'm debating just getting off and running to the street to go somewhere, but both don't really seem like good ideas. And then I make the executive decision.
Yep, I grabbed the grocery bag, pulled out the bag of rolls, took all the rolls out, kneeled down in the corner seat of the metro hidden by the wall, and pissed into a clear plastic bag. When it was filled (I really fucking filled that bag), it was slightly dripping, so I double wrapped it with a second grocery bag that was also inside, sprinted from the train to the trash can on the terminal and made my deposit. A new first for me...peeing in a bag. Good times.
And I didn't waste much time, as I went out with some friends on Saturday to try and clear my head, as sitting around at home alone was getting very depressing.
So, the crowd wanted to head down to a place called Marvin in the U Street corrider, so my brother, his girlfriend and I grabbed the metro down to Dupont and hailed a cab in the pouring rain over to U Street to check this place out. It was OK, though very crowded, but most of the people in the group wanted to bail on it after a short while, and head over to a place called Bar Nun, where a guy we play football with bartends. My buddies Brian and Mike showed up right as the crowd was moving, so I told them I'd pass on Bar Nun (which upon further commentary didn't seem like my kind of place) and meet up with them if it was a good scene.
After another round of just the three of us, having not heard from my brother about Bar Nun, we decide to head over to St. Ex, where another friend of ours, Chad, said it was pretty fun. We get there, it's OK, and I proceed to suck down some Captains and a shot of Jamieson (not my call). It's getting late and I still haven't heard from Kevin.
Brian and Mike decide to bail, leaving me and Chad to finish our drinks, all the while being acosted by a fat chick that Chad did an improv class with. Fat chick doing improv...relying on her wit...who would have guessed?
Seeing no redeeming virtue in anything further at this place, we decide to just head over to Bar Nun to see what's going on. We walk over there but are shockingly unable to get in since we are two single dudes, even though it is like 2 AM. We assume this is kind of gay, so Chad takes off and I call my brother to tell him to come leave, since we were ready to go anyway. He and his girlfriend comes out and tell me all about the place. And here is actually why they wouldn't let two dudes in:
IT WAS FUCKING SWINGERS NIGHT!!!
Yep, Kev said they were only letting couples and single girls in and the place was for people to meet up for group sex. To encourage the mood, there were Asian women walking around in thongs, short school girl skirts and no tops. Kevin was approached by the owner (female) about having a three way. And I am so glad we decided against even following them there.
So on to the metro. After wandering for about 10 minutes trying to get a cab, we walked over to the U St metro completely soaked and had to get on there...randomly getting a cameo from Chad departing from McDonalds to give us directions. Unfortunately, the U St Metro is on the green line, which meant we had to take it to Gallery Place, then switch, before heading out to Grosvenor...and I had to pee.
I make it all the way to Tenleytown before I am literally in physical pain I have to go so bad. Everyone with me (we ended up meeting up with two girls that we knew that got on at Dupont) is saying we're only a short way away, and to hold it. And then the worst thing possible happens...they stop midway between Tenleytown and Friendship Heights because of track work. At this point, I get up and start combing the train for a bottle (yeah, it was that bad), but all I find is a grocery bag with a bag of sub rolls and some deli meat in it. Luckily, the train starts moving again, so I think I'll be OK. We pull into Friendship Heights and then we stop...and sit. Kevin's telling me to run out and pee in the trash can, I'm debating just getting off and running to the street to go somewhere, but both don't really seem like good ideas. And then I make the executive decision.
Yep, I grabbed the grocery bag, pulled out the bag of rolls, took all the rolls out, kneeled down in the corner seat of the metro hidden by the wall, and pissed into a clear plastic bag. When it was filled (I really fucking filled that bag), it was slightly dripping, so I double wrapped it with a second grocery bag that was also inside, sprinted from the train to the trash can on the terminal and made my deposit. A new first for me...peeing in a bag. Good times.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Things That Suck 2
Once again, I think I'll rant about something that really sucks.
Has anyone been to the Burger King at Montgomery Mall recently? Or perhaps it is just Burger Kings, in general? This place is located in the corner down by Sears and right next to a giant children's play area (don't even get me started on how much that sucks) and I swear this part of the mall is where people come to die. The rest of the mall seems bright and cheerful, especially with all of the Christmas decorations up now. However, when you venture closer to this corner, partially hidden by the escalators and Ice Cream of the Future stand, all that is good seems to be sapped from your soul.
And the main source of this horror is that stinking Burger King. I used to go here back in high school and always remember it being somewhat on the dirty side, but now it's just gotten comical. Homeless people sit randomly around the seats, an odd hispanic woman wanders the soda machine and condiments area, as I walk up to the register to order.
And then I wait.
And then I wait some more.
And then I here some guy flirting in Spanish with two women behind the large metallic wall of grills and other Burger making bullshit. And then I wait some more.
Sweet Jesus...finally the guy comes around the corner, obviously surprised to have any business. I place my order, get my ticket stub and move down to fill my soda, dodging the Spanish lady, who I assume has some mental illness because she's talking to herself and shaking slightly.
My chicken sandwich comes shooting down the metallic serving slide a few minutes later (like she couldn't just hand it to the guy?) and he starts bagging it up. Then he reaches for the fries in the bin and starts trying to scoop them up. HUH? I just waited for 5 minutes for the sandwich after waiting another 5 or more minutes to even place my order, and he's trying to give me fries that were sitting there the whole time. The King would not be proud. After I explained that this is not how it's going to go down, I'm waiting for another 5 minutes for fresh fries, before rapidly exiting the premises, every ounce of joy, hope, and love sucked from my being.
Perhaps these people sitting randomly around were not homeless people after all, but had just sat in this dungeon for too long that they had no will left to go on with their normal lives. Needless to say, I must avoid this area of the mall from now on. Hell, it even sucked the life out of Sam Goody, a once flourishing store that sat just across the way. Man, does that place suck.
Has anyone been to the Burger King at Montgomery Mall recently? Or perhaps it is just Burger Kings, in general? This place is located in the corner down by Sears and right next to a giant children's play area (don't even get me started on how much that sucks) and I swear this part of the mall is where people come to die. The rest of the mall seems bright and cheerful, especially with all of the Christmas decorations up now. However, when you venture closer to this corner, partially hidden by the escalators and Ice Cream of the Future stand, all that is good seems to be sapped from your soul.
And the main source of this horror is that stinking Burger King. I used to go here back in high school and always remember it being somewhat on the dirty side, but now it's just gotten comical. Homeless people sit randomly around the seats, an odd hispanic woman wanders the soda machine and condiments area, as I walk up to the register to order.
And then I wait.
And then I wait some more.
And then I here some guy flirting in Spanish with two women behind the large metallic wall of grills and other Burger making bullshit. And then I wait some more.
Sweet Jesus...finally the guy comes around the corner, obviously surprised to have any business. I place my order, get my ticket stub and move down to fill my soda, dodging the Spanish lady, who I assume has some mental illness because she's talking to herself and shaking slightly.
My chicken sandwich comes shooting down the metallic serving slide a few minutes later (like she couldn't just hand it to the guy?) and he starts bagging it up. Then he reaches for the fries in the bin and starts trying to scoop them up. HUH? I just waited for 5 minutes for the sandwich after waiting another 5 or more minutes to even place my order, and he's trying to give me fries that were sitting there the whole time. The King would not be proud. After I explained that this is not how it's going to go down, I'm waiting for another 5 minutes for fresh fries, before rapidly exiting the premises, every ounce of joy, hope, and love sucked from my being.
Perhaps these people sitting randomly around were not homeless people after all, but had just sat in this dungeon for too long that they had no will left to go on with their normal lives. Needless to say, I must avoid this area of the mall from now on. Hell, it even sucked the life out of Sam Goody, a once flourishing store that sat just across the way. Man, does that place suck.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Things that Suck
Since it has now been almost 4 months since my last post, you can sort of see that I am not really sticking with this blogging thing like I did before. In an attempt, however, to rekindle my creative juices, I'm starting a new recurring theme, much like my old Top 10 Lists and Brain Farts. This is along the lines of my Brain Farts, but will give me greater pleasure to spout off about. So, I hope to add regularly to my new topic "Things that Suck."
In these posts, I will post all things that piss me off, irritate me, seem exceptionally stupid, or in any way suck. Feel free to add your own suck moments, as I'm sure it will be quite cathartic for us all. And now, my first rant:
Why in the hell do they insist on playing the same three commercials during an entire 3 hour football game on TV? By halftime, I am so sick of seeing that same shit, I really want to change the channel, but am fearful I might miss game action, so I'm forced to sit through it. And the worst of these is that damned TV commerical that shows Chad Pennington throwing a TD pass in the corner of the end zone, but by the "magic of the quality of the TV, we don't have to wait around for the replay" to see this jackass at the end dance around like a country hillbilly in front of his screen. Who dances like that during a football game? And why aren't his friends kicking his ass for being such a douche? I'm pretty sure there's a black guy in the room. How is he just letting him get away with dancing like that? And how, if I hate this commercial so much, do I know all these vivid details? Because I have to suffer through this every 10 minutes for three straight hours. Man, does that piss me off.
In these posts, I will post all things that piss me off, irritate me, seem exceptionally stupid, or in any way suck. Feel free to add your own suck moments, as I'm sure it will be quite cathartic for us all. And now, my first rant:
Why in the hell do they insist on playing the same three commercials during an entire 3 hour football game on TV? By halftime, I am so sick of seeing that same shit, I really want to change the channel, but am fearful I might miss game action, so I'm forced to sit through it. And the worst of these is that damned TV commerical that shows Chad Pennington throwing a TD pass in the corner of the end zone, but by the "magic of the quality of the TV, we don't have to wait around for the replay" to see this jackass at the end dance around like a country hillbilly in front of his screen. Who dances like that during a football game? And why aren't his friends kicking his ass for being such a douche? I'm pretty sure there's a black guy in the room. How is he just letting him get away with dancing like that? And how, if I hate this commercial so much, do I know all these vivid details? Because I have to suffer through this every 10 minutes for three straight hours. Man, does that piss me off.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Express?
So tonight, I finish up with work and as usual, I'm not in the mood for cooking. I've got a football game later, so I figure eating something of higher quality might be the best way to go, so I head over to Balducci's to pick up one of their meal combos. I roll in there and make my selection (seared tuna with sesame crust...quite good, I've had it before) and two side items, head over to grab myself a Dr. Brown's Cream Soda (haven't had that in a long time) and saunter on up to the register. Yes, I saunter...it's Balducci's god damn it.
Anyway, most of the aisles are pretty crowded, but then I see a sign on the last register: Express. Hell, yeah. I've only got two things...this makes sense. So I stand in the line, not really paying attention, but then I notice things are moving a little slow. And that's when I realize...the checker is retarded. Yes, legitimately suffering from Down's Syndrome. Not me joking and saying they're "retarded," full on clinically diagnosed with a mild case of Down's Syndrome.
So, let's recap. Express Lane. Down's Syndrome checker. Uh...does this make sense to you? Express...I don't think so. This has got to be some sick joke played by the manager. Like calling a three-legged dog Speedy or your fat friend Tiny. There is gonna be nothing express about this exchange. And 15 minutes and two people in front of me later (yeah, I couldn't give up on my line at this point) I finally got out of there and got home to enjoy my tuna steak. Ha ha, very funny Mr. Balducci's manager. See you in hell.
Anyway, most of the aisles are pretty crowded, but then I see a sign on the last register: Express. Hell, yeah. I've only got two things...this makes sense. So I stand in the line, not really paying attention, but then I notice things are moving a little slow. And that's when I realize...the checker is retarded. Yes, legitimately suffering from Down's Syndrome. Not me joking and saying they're "retarded," full on clinically diagnosed with a mild case of Down's Syndrome.
So, let's recap. Express Lane. Down's Syndrome checker. Uh...does this make sense to you? Express...I don't think so. This has got to be some sick joke played by the manager. Like calling a three-legged dog Speedy or your fat friend Tiny. There is gonna be nothing express about this exchange. And 15 minutes and two people in front of me later (yeah, I couldn't give up on my line at this point) I finally got out of there and got home to enjoy my tuna steak. Ha ha, very funny Mr. Balducci's manager. See you in hell.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
The Anniversary
Well, for those who weren't counting, yesterday was the one year anniversary of the day that I broke my jaw. Thankfully, I have completely healed (though my mouth still doesn't close right and that bugs me some times) and I am also back to the weight I was prior to the injury.
Needless to say, I was worried of some sort of jinx associated with the day, so I was happy to learn that there was no football game scheduled this weekend (yes, I'm back to playing...ain't nobody making me stop on their terms). So, yesterday, my day goes by uneventfully taking a trip to the Outlet Mall in Woodbridge and buying a bunch of cheap shit to wear. After that I met up with some friends to celebrate Ike's 30th birthday with some dinner and then headed out to Union Jack's for some drinks with Jaclyn, her sister and some other people.
The night is going along fine, I'm getting drunk, Jaclyn and her sister are dancing on the speakers as usual, and I am still without incident for the evening. But I wouldn't be writing this if I got off completely unscathed.
So, technically the day has passed, it's about 1 AM on Sunday and we're still at the bar...and Jaclyn's sister is shitfaced. I'm talking the dancing with random dudes and throwing your head up in the air and spinning around even though you're not on the dance floor kind of shitfaced. And it's that second part that does us in. I'm chillin by the beer girl, having just met back up with everyone, when I realize that her sister is plowed.
I suggest that it might be time to go, before she starts a fight, and wouldn't you know it. Yep, she has spun into a 5'9" black guy with dread locks and knocked his beer to the ground. This kind of shit happens all the time at a bar, I've had it happen to me, and I've bumped into someone before myself. It happens, you either get a beer for the guy or all is just left as it is, and everyone goes their merry way.
Well, not on my jaw-breaking anniversary, of course. So Ziggy Marley over here is quick to start mouthing off at her sister, and I'm still over by the wall, assuming everything will clear itself up. I send Jaclyn over to clear things up, assuming a normal guy isn't gonna start shit with girls and perhaps her sister is not in the best mindset to talk this one out.
Well, apparently, neither is Lenny Kravitz, because when Jaclyn gets over to him, he decides to start in on her, calls her and her sister bitches (among other things) and then he grabs Jaclyn by the arm. Now, I'll be the first one to admit that I'm not looking for a fight, nor do I consider myself a fighter. And on this particular night, I'm especially not looking for trouble...but there are certain things you just don't do, and putting your hands on a women while mouthing off like that is one of them.
So, apparently, my right mind shuts off at this point and I jump in ready to throwdown like a jackass (I've been watching too many Segal movies) and I grab old Man-Ram's arm off of Jaclyn and put myself between him and the two girls. Now this is where things get kinda cool for me, and I will deem this my "movie hero" moment of my life thusfar, as all ladies in earshot were probably dreaming of me while they slept with their loser boyfriends last night (hey, this is my story...write your own if you don't like it)
Anyway, our drunken banter goes down like this:
Me: Whoa, whoa, whoa. You just don't do that.
Him: Fuck you man. I ain't got no problem with you.
Me: Uh, yes you do. Because if you have a problem with them, then you have a problem with me. (I'm totally not shitting you. I really did say this...so badass) And I'm pretty sure you have a problem with most of the guys in here if you're gonna grab a woman like that. (yep, actually said this too...not making this part up)
Him: Fuck that bitch. She fucking spilled my beer and doesn't even fucking apologize.
Me: Well, if she spilled your beer, I'm sorry. We'll get you another one.
Him: Fuck you.
The next couple minutes are your standard meathead bullshit, with him calling Jaclyn and her sister names as they try to chime in and me declining his nice invitation to step outside with him. Perhaps, that's because I said something along the lines of "what kind of fucking pussy goes and puts his hands on a woman over a beer?" I think he knew what fucking pussy I was talking about. Probably wasn't the best way to diffuse the problem, but if you had heard this guy, I doubt you would have been any nicer. Anyway, he says some shit that I kinda blacked out, but it must have been bad because Jaclyn and her sister said that I leaned in at him and looked like I was gonna swing. I don't remember exactly, as I had a lot of beer and by this time adrenaline has likely taken over.
Anyway, I guess this is what sparked his friend to jump in and apologize and ask me to be the bigger man and walk away, because Wyclef's just drunk and doesn't know what he's doing. Pretty much your standard bar fight scenario. I back down, the bouncers come over by this time, and look to escort him out. The beer girl saw the whole thing so they didn't even hassle me, which is nice since I was probably too drunk to talk to the cops hanging around outside.
And thankfully, I write to you this Sunday evening having not spent the night in jail or in a hospital, and I enjoyed solid foods on July 1 for the first time in two years. Happy 4th of July.
Needless to say, I was worried of some sort of jinx associated with the day, so I was happy to learn that there was no football game scheduled this weekend (yes, I'm back to playing...ain't nobody making me stop on their terms). So, yesterday, my day goes by uneventfully taking a trip to the Outlet Mall in Woodbridge and buying a bunch of cheap shit to wear. After that I met up with some friends to celebrate Ike's 30th birthday with some dinner and then headed out to Union Jack's for some drinks with Jaclyn, her sister and some other people.
The night is going along fine, I'm getting drunk, Jaclyn and her sister are dancing on the speakers as usual, and I am still without incident for the evening. But I wouldn't be writing this if I got off completely unscathed.
So, technically the day has passed, it's about 1 AM on Sunday and we're still at the bar...and Jaclyn's sister is shitfaced. I'm talking the dancing with random dudes and throwing your head up in the air and spinning around even though you're not on the dance floor kind of shitfaced. And it's that second part that does us in. I'm chillin by the beer girl, having just met back up with everyone, when I realize that her sister is plowed.
I suggest that it might be time to go, before she starts a fight, and wouldn't you know it. Yep, she has spun into a 5'9" black guy with dread locks and knocked his beer to the ground. This kind of shit happens all the time at a bar, I've had it happen to me, and I've bumped into someone before myself. It happens, you either get a beer for the guy or all is just left as it is, and everyone goes their merry way.
Well, not on my jaw-breaking anniversary, of course. So Ziggy Marley over here is quick to start mouthing off at her sister, and I'm still over by the wall, assuming everything will clear itself up. I send Jaclyn over to clear things up, assuming a normal guy isn't gonna start shit with girls and perhaps her sister is not in the best mindset to talk this one out.
Well, apparently, neither is Lenny Kravitz, because when Jaclyn gets over to him, he decides to start in on her, calls her and her sister bitches (among other things) and then he grabs Jaclyn by the arm. Now, I'll be the first one to admit that I'm not looking for a fight, nor do I consider myself a fighter. And on this particular night, I'm especially not looking for trouble...but there are certain things you just don't do, and putting your hands on a women while mouthing off like that is one of them.
So, apparently, my right mind shuts off at this point and I jump in ready to throwdown like a jackass (I've been watching too many Segal movies) and I grab old Man-Ram's arm off of Jaclyn and put myself between him and the two girls. Now this is where things get kinda cool for me, and I will deem this my "movie hero" moment of my life thusfar, as all ladies in earshot were probably dreaming of me while they slept with their loser boyfriends last night (hey, this is my story...write your own if you don't like it)
Anyway, our drunken banter goes down like this:
Me: Whoa, whoa, whoa. You just don't do that.
Him: Fuck you man. I ain't got no problem with you.
Me: Uh, yes you do. Because if you have a problem with them, then you have a problem with me. (I'm totally not shitting you. I really did say this...so badass) And I'm pretty sure you have a problem with most of the guys in here if you're gonna grab a woman like that. (yep, actually said this too...not making this part up)
Him: Fuck that bitch. She fucking spilled my beer and doesn't even fucking apologize.
Me: Well, if she spilled your beer, I'm sorry. We'll get you another one.
Him: Fuck you.
The next couple minutes are your standard meathead bullshit, with him calling Jaclyn and her sister names as they try to chime in and me declining his nice invitation to step outside with him. Perhaps, that's because I said something along the lines of "what kind of fucking pussy goes and puts his hands on a woman over a beer?" I think he knew what fucking pussy I was talking about. Probably wasn't the best way to diffuse the problem, but if you had heard this guy, I doubt you would have been any nicer. Anyway, he says some shit that I kinda blacked out, but it must have been bad because Jaclyn and her sister said that I leaned in at him and looked like I was gonna swing. I don't remember exactly, as I had a lot of beer and by this time adrenaline has likely taken over.
Anyway, I guess this is what sparked his friend to jump in and apologize and ask me to be the bigger man and walk away, because Wyclef's just drunk and doesn't know what he's doing. Pretty much your standard bar fight scenario. I back down, the bouncers come over by this time, and look to escort him out. The beer girl saw the whole thing so they didn't even hassle me, which is nice since I was probably too drunk to talk to the cops hanging around outside.
And thankfully, I write to you this Sunday evening having not spent the night in jail or in a hospital, and I enjoyed solid foods on July 1 for the first time in two years. Happy 4th of July.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Disaster on Tuckerman
So I'm driving back to my house today at around 2 PM, so I can meet a guy about adding stairs to my deck and to let my dog out. It's like any other day, it's nice outside, and I'm frazzled from the craziness that the early-Spring brings the poolman.
I make the turn from Old Georgetown down Tuckerman Lane and I'm in the right lane getting ready to turn into my neighborhood (OK, stalkers...now you know where I live) when I see the two cars in front of me slam on their brakes and come to a jolted stop. Great...they just got into an accident. I switch over to the left lane behind a UPS truck, but then things start getting weird.
The UPS truck pulls to the left and stops in the middle of the street, cars coming the other way all stop and people are getting out of their cars. I slow down, figuring these cars might be pretty messed up, when I realize what just went down.
I come to a stop right next to the first car of the two, an SUV...and there in front of that car lay a girl on the ground. She's not moving. This fucking intersection!! I've lived here for over 2 years now, and frequently walk my dog across Tuckerman to get to the park on the other side. And almost every time I try to cross, people come tearing down the street, completely oblivious to the reality that a car should yield to pedestrians in the crosswalk. Pulling out of my street in my car is just as difficult and I've always wondered why we don't have a light here.
Sadly, it takes shit like this before the county will consider doing something like that. And there lay this girl, finally moving her leg ever so slowly. A man with no shirt is standing over her, a frantic look in his face. Women have congregated on the sidewalk, crying and making calls...assumedly for an ambulance, and the UPS guy has gotten over to the scene. I'm not a doctor and there's really no point in me getting involved, so I sit there in my car, rattled by yet another surreal experience going on around me.
As blood begins to stain the asphalt around her, I can only hope that an ambulance will get here soon and that she will be alright. She is likely one of my neighbors...though one I don't recognize, and as the UPS guy begins acting like a traffic cop directing me and the row of cars behind me past this scene, I am left to wonder.
I make the turn from Old Georgetown down Tuckerman Lane and I'm in the right lane getting ready to turn into my neighborhood (OK, stalkers...now you know where I live) when I see the two cars in front of me slam on their brakes and come to a jolted stop. Great...they just got into an accident. I switch over to the left lane behind a UPS truck, but then things start getting weird.
The UPS truck pulls to the left and stops in the middle of the street, cars coming the other way all stop and people are getting out of their cars. I slow down, figuring these cars might be pretty messed up, when I realize what just went down.
I come to a stop right next to the first car of the two, an SUV...and there in front of that car lay a girl on the ground. She's not moving. This fucking intersection!! I've lived here for over 2 years now, and frequently walk my dog across Tuckerman to get to the park on the other side. And almost every time I try to cross, people come tearing down the street, completely oblivious to the reality that a car should yield to pedestrians in the crosswalk. Pulling out of my street in my car is just as difficult and I've always wondered why we don't have a light here.
Sadly, it takes shit like this before the county will consider doing something like that. And there lay this girl, finally moving her leg ever so slowly. A man with no shirt is standing over her, a frantic look in his face. Women have congregated on the sidewalk, crying and making calls...assumedly for an ambulance, and the UPS guy has gotten over to the scene. I'm not a doctor and there's really no point in me getting involved, so I sit there in my car, rattled by yet another surreal experience going on around me.
As blood begins to stain the asphalt around her, I can only hope that an ambulance will get here soon and that she will be alright. She is likely one of my neighbors...though one I don't recognize, and as the UPS guy begins acting like a traffic cop directing me and the row of cars behind me past this scene, I am left to wonder.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Bienvenido a Miami
It's been a long time, but I have finally returned after experiencing some pretty crazy shit this past weekend, which had to be written about and saved for posterity. I hope you enjoy:
For those of you that weren't aware, this past weekend I made a trip down to Miami with some buddies to celebrate my friend, Kupe's bachelor party. In the past, we have hit up the likes of Las Vegas and New York City for bachelor parties and I've seen some pretty crazy shit during these escapades, as seen in some of the slide shows I have on this blog. However, nothing could have prepared me for the most surreal 2 hours of my life on Friday night.
After checking into the Fountaine Bleu hotel and seeing that my buddy Ike had hooked us up with a ridiculously large suite, we decided to get things started by heading to a dog track to watch the NCAA games and bet blindly on dogs running in circles. The track is out in the middle of nowhere and the clientele patronizing this establishment are reminiscent of a mid-week, mid-day Atlantic City outing. Nonetheless, we settle down at a table, order a round of $1 Rolling Rocks, several plates of chicken fingers and fries, and begin throwing money at random dogs such as Mo's High Steppen, who coincidentally won me no money. We knew it was going to be a long night when the waitress brought us our 4th round short one beer, informing us that they ran out and that we could have another, but it would be hot. Yes, hot.
We headed out of there, I was up about $20 by dumb luck, and we walked out to the parking lot to see absolutely no cabbies. Figuring we'd have better luck on the main road, we trecked out to the corner where a McDonald's sat and within a few minutes a cab showed up. Now this is when things start to get a little weird.
So, we tell the cab where we're heading (back to South Beach) and he proceeds to scratch the side of his car on the curb, before jumping it as he pulls into the McDonald's parking lot. Perhaps this should have warned us to reconsider using this guy, but hell, we're in Miami.
Within moments of driving, we've struck up a conversation with Jorge (don't call me Hor-hey) Sanchez, a Cuban-born, 60-something who drives his cab because it's fun, not to make money. In fact, he reset our meter after driving about 2 miles, laughing that he doesn't give a shit. Is he drunk??
So, we keep driving, he's telling us that he hates Cubans and hopes Castro dies so that "some of these assholes" will go back, and then we start talking about women. The converstaion takes a turn for the worst when he starts telling us stories about his ex-wife and how much of a whore she was, and that leads us to the most bizarre of all cabbies moments.
Old Jorge decides that he's gonna show us a picture of his new girlfriend. She's a crackhead, and she's in rehab now, and she used to be a hooker, but she's all his...and he usually doesn't like showing anyone pictures of her because then they want to date her..but hell, we're like family now. So he reaches for his cell. phone and is having trouble getting to the pictures, so all attention is on the phone, not the road, as illustrated by the three lanes we're swerving in. Again, we were suprisingly not upset by this. But we were upset by the series of pictures that ended up developing.
There before our eyes, on this old Cuban's grainy cell. phone sat a picture of a relatively fat black woman seated in his passenger seat. He instructed Kupe to push the button on the phone to continue to cycle through the pictures, which went from bad to worse. Now she's sitting there topless. Now she's got her legs up. Whoa...where did her underwear go? Oh my god, is that his wang? And her mouth? Yeah, I would have to say the last thing I would want to do is want to date this girl. Dear god, what is wrong with this city??
So, we eventually make it to our destination...The Clevelander, where upon our exit, Jorge once again lowers our $24.00 fare to an even $20...I mean he really doesn't give a shit...and he lives in his cab...he told us.
Happy to be out of that surreal experience I walk towards the bouncer for Clevelander only to have a couple walk right in front of my path. And they both have pythons drapped across their shoulders??!!! What is in the water around here?
We walk into the bar, house music is pumping, so you all know I'm super thrilled. I mean, get me a glow stick and a couple of small Asians and my night would be made. But instead, all I got was a guy dancing on a stage wearing a costume like the Last Samurai, with some sort of animals horns on his helmet, and his swinging a flaming whip to the beat. Uh yeah...normally all of this would be shocking to me, but I did just see a picture of a 60 year old man getting his dick sucked by a crack whore. And perhaps it's better I saw all of this, because it destracted from the $280 bar tab we ran up over the next 4 hours of drinking.
Bienvenido a Miami...and that's only our first night.
For those of you that weren't aware, this past weekend I made a trip down to Miami with some buddies to celebrate my friend, Kupe's bachelor party. In the past, we have hit up the likes of Las Vegas and New York City for bachelor parties and I've seen some pretty crazy shit during these escapades, as seen in some of the slide shows I have on this blog. However, nothing could have prepared me for the most surreal 2 hours of my life on Friday night.
After checking into the Fountaine Bleu hotel and seeing that my buddy Ike had hooked us up with a ridiculously large suite, we decided to get things started by heading to a dog track to watch the NCAA games and bet blindly on dogs running in circles. The track is out in the middle of nowhere and the clientele patronizing this establishment are reminiscent of a mid-week, mid-day Atlantic City outing. Nonetheless, we settle down at a table, order a round of $1 Rolling Rocks, several plates of chicken fingers and fries, and begin throwing money at random dogs such as Mo's High Steppen, who coincidentally won me no money. We knew it was going to be a long night when the waitress brought us our 4th round short one beer, informing us that they ran out and that we could have another, but it would be hot. Yes, hot.
We headed out of there, I was up about $20 by dumb luck, and we walked out to the parking lot to see absolutely no cabbies. Figuring we'd have better luck on the main road, we trecked out to the corner where a McDonald's sat and within a few minutes a cab showed up. Now this is when things start to get a little weird.
So, we tell the cab where we're heading (back to South Beach) and he proceeds to scratch the side of his car on the curb, before jumping it as he pulls into the McDonald's parking lot. Perhaps this should have warned us to reconsider using this guy, but hell, we're in Miami.
Within moments of driving, we've struck up a conversation with Jorge (don't call me Hor-hey) Sanchez, a Cuban-born, 60-something who drives his cab because it's fun, not to make money. In fact, he reset our meter after driving about 2 miles, laughing that he doesn't give a shit. Is he drunk??
So, we keep driving, he's telling us that he hates Cubans and hopes Castro dies so that "some of these assholes" will go back, and then we start talking about women. The converstaion takes a turn for the worst when he starts telling us stories about his ex-wife and how much of a whore she was, and that leads us to the most bizarre of all cabbies moments.
Old Jorge decides that he's gonna show us a picture of his new girlfriend. She's a crackhead, and she's in rehab now, and she used to be a hooker, but she's all his...and he usually doesn't like showing anyone pictures of her because then they want to date her..but hell, we're like family now. So he reaches for his cell. phone and is having trouble getting to the pictures, so all attention is on the phone, not the road, as illustrated by the three lanes we're swerving in. Again, we were suprisingly not upset by this. But we were upset by the series of pictures that ended up developing.
There before our eyes, on this old Cuban's grainy cell. phone sat a picture of a relatively fat black woman seated in his passenger seat. He instructed Kupe to push the button on the phone to continue to cycle through the pictures, which went from bad to worse. Now she's sitting there topless. Now she's got her legs up. Whoa...where did her underwear go? Oh my god, is that his wang? And her mouth? Yeah, I would have to say the last thing I would want to do is want to date this girl. Dear god, what is wrong with this city??
So, we eventually make it to our destination...The Clevelander, where upon our exit, Jorge once again lowers our $24.00 fare to an even $20...I mean he really doesn't give a shit...and he lives in his cab...he told us.
Happy to be out of that surreal experience I walk towards the bouncer for Clevelander only to have a couple walk right in front of my path. And they both have pythons drapped across their shoulders??!!! What is in the water around here?
We walk into the bar, house music is pumping, so you all know I'm super thrilled. I mean, get me a glow stick and a couple of small Asians and my night would be made. But instead, all I got was a guy dancing on a stage wearing a costume like the Last Samurai, with some sort of animals horns on his helmet, and his swinging a flaming whip to the beat. Uh yeah...normally all of this would be shocking to me, but I did just see a picture of a 60 year old man getting his dick sucked by a crack whore. And perhaps it's better I saw all of this, because it destracted from the $280 bar tab we ran up over the next 4 hours of drinking.
Bienvenido a Miami...and that's only our first night.
Monday, January 29, 2007
J-Man: Imaginary Ninja
So, today I finally decided to use my gift certificates that I got for Christmas and my birthday on some clothes at the mall. I was bored...it's slow at work...so I headed over there around 2 PM, and after an hour or so of shopping (way more than my norm, but what else do I have to do) I walked out with six shirts, and two pairs of cargo khakis. Man, do I love those cargo khakis, and my old ones have a tear in the crotch, so this was perfect timing.
Anyway, as you can picture this scene, it involves me wandering around the mall and dropping into Old Navy, JC Penney, Nordstroms, Express (yeah, they have men's stuff...and it's nice), Gap, J.Crew, Banana Republic and even Guess. And I'm doing all of this alone. Well, after a few minutes of wandering in and out of stores by myself, I realize I need the input of someone else in buying clothes. I'm color blind to begin with and I suck at picking out clothes. Usually, if I shop alone, I buy a bunch of stuff, hate all but one of the things I bought, and sit with the other clothes in my closet for several years because I'm too lazy to return them and too proud to give them away to Salvation Army.
So, rather than burden other people in the store with my problems, I begin talking and discussing the clothing options with myself. Yes, this might be construed as insane, but I had some really good insights about which clothes looked best on me, and since I wasn't acting alone, I felt more confident with my choices.
After an hour of this, my mind is running like mad, coming up with wild ideas since I'm talking to myself. I'm done with my shopping and start walking outside. I'm parked over by Old Navy, which is near the bus stop, so lots of people are heading out this way as well. Anyway, as I make my way outside, I take a few steps when a kid, maybe about 16 or so, comes running up behind me and bumps into my bag.
Now usually, I'd just shrug this off as he continues running along towards the bus, but since I'm bordering on insanity after having been talking and shopping with myself for the past hour, the idea crosses my mind that he was attempting to steal my bag.
It is at this point, when my imagination takes over and thankfully none of this truly went down...but in my alternate world, he grabbed my bag and started running. So I started chasing after him. Luckily, he's shorter than me so I start catching up to him and lunge for him. I'm able to tackle him to the ground, but I don't know if I can merely grab the bag from him and asume I'll be able to walk away...so I begin punching him in and about the head. I yell for someone to call the police as I continue to beat down on him, fearful that if I stop smacking him in the head, (and now I've moved on to kneeing him in the chest,) that he'll have a chance to return the favor or pull out a weapon. I slowly make my way to standing, as he lies on the ground. I've gotten my bag back and I order him to stay down. He keeps trying to get up, so now I'm forced to stomp him on the back and kick him in the chest and stomach with my Timberland boots. A scene is developing around us, but I'm not letting this guy up.
Finally, the police show up, but they're wondering if they should arrest me, as the kid is a bloody mess. They start questioning me and ask me what happened, and I tell them:
This is why men shouldn't go shopping.
Anyway, as you can picture this scene, it involves me wandering around the mall and dropping into Old Navy, JC Penney, Nordstroms, Express (yeah, they have men's stuff...and it's nice), Gap, J.Crew, Banana Republic and even Guess. And I'm doing all of this alone. Well, after a few minutes of wandering in and out of stores by myself, I realize I need the input of someone else in buying clothes. I'm color blind to begin with and I suck at picking out clothes. Usually, if I shop alone, I buy a bunch of stuff, hate all but one of the things I bought, and sit with the other clothes in my closet for several years because I'm too lazy to return them and too proud to give them away to Salvation Army.
So, rather than burden other people in the store with my problems, I begin talking and discussing the clothing options with myself. Yes, this might be construed as insane, but I had some really good insights about which clothes looked best on me, and since I wasn't acting alone, I felt more confident with my choices.
After an hour of this, my mind is running like mad, coming up with wild ideas since I'm talking to myself. I'm done with my shopping and start walking outside. I'm parked over by Old Navy, which is near the bus stop, so lots of people are heading out this way as well. Anyway, as I make my way outside, I take a few steps when a kid, maybe about 16 or so, comes running up behind me and bumps into my bag.
Now usually, I'd just shrug this off as he continues running along towards the bus, but since I'm bordering on insanity after having been talking and shopping with myself for the past hour, the idea crosses my mind that he was attempting to steal my bag.
It is at this point, when my imagination takes over and thankfully none of this truly went down...but in my alternate world, he grabbed my bag and started running. So I started chasing after him. Luckily, he's shorter than me so I start catching up to him and lunge for him. I'm able to tackle him to the ground, but I don't know if I can merely grab the bag from him and asume I'll be able to walk away...so I begin punching him in and about the head. I yell for someone to call the police as I continue to beat down on him, fearful that if I stop smacking him in the head, (and now I've moved on to kneeing him in the chest,) that he'll have a chance to return the favor or pull out a weapon. I slowly make my way to standing, as he lies on the ground. I've gotten my bag back and I order him to stay down. He keeps trying to get up, so now I'm forced to stomp him on the back and kick him in the chest and stomach with my Timberland boots. A scene is developing around us, but I'm not letting this guy up.
Finally, the police show up, but they're wondering if they should arrest me, as the kid is a bloody mess. They start questioning me and ask me what happened, and I tell them:
This is why men shouldn't go shopping.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Expired
So, I've got a football game in an hour and I just decided that I want to grab something quick and light so I have energy but I'm not weighed down. I walk into my pantry and see my boxes of cereal, and I'm like...perfect. I know I just bought some milk a couple weeks ago when I went to the grocery store, so I grab a box of Berry Blast Cheerios (which are great, by the way). It's a little light, so I notice I have a second one, so I grab it as well, in case I don't have enough in the first one. The second box has a little bit more in it, but it's also less than half full. Wonder why I opened a second...oh well.
So I open up the box and pour some Cheerios into a bowl. The Berry Blast variety has some dried fruit in it as well, and as I gaze upon the dried fruits, I'm thinking something doesn't look quite right. I don't now how to better explain it, but it looks like the dried fruit...is dried out. Moreso than usual?? The raspberries are downright scary so I take a gander at the box and try to locate the expiration date. JUNE 06. Well, that ain't good, these are over seven month expired. So I dump the bowl and check the other box. Even worse: NOV 05. Yeah, I ain't kidding you. 2005!!!! I didn't even bother to open up the packaging. I walked back into the pantry and saw some Fruit Harvest...DEC 05. Some other odd granola and fruit thing...MAY 06. Ok, I have a serious problem with eating cereal on a timely basis here.
Thankfully, I had seen some Boo Berry on the shelves at Target back around Halloween and decided to grab a box for old time sakes. I mean, these are like the caviar of monster cereals. You can find Count Chocula all the time...Franken Berry here and there...but Boo Berry was the thing of legends when I was 8. Kids would claim they'd eaten them, but there was never any solid proof. Anyway, I checked the box: MAY 07. Hell yeah. But then that got me thinking about two things:
1) If this expiration date is MAY 07 and I remember buying it in October, how old must those other boxes have been????!!!!
2) I just ate a bowl of super sweet blueberry flavored cereal with purple colored milk and I'm about to go play football now.
This might not have been the best idea after all.
So I open up the box and pour some Cheerios into a bowl. The Berry Blast variety has some dried fruit in it as well, and as I gaze upon the dried fruits, I'm thinking something doesn't look quite right. I don't now how to better explain it, but it looks like the dried fruit...is dried out. Moreso than usual?? The raspberries are downright scary so I take a gander at the box and try to locate the expiration date. JUNE 06. Well, that ain't good, these are over seven month expired. So I dump the bowl and check the other box. Even worse: NOV 05. Yeah, I ain't kidding you. 2005!!!! I didn't even bother to open up the packaging. I walked back into the pantry and saw some Fruit Harvest...DEC 05. Some other odd granola and fruit thing...MAY 06. Ok, I have a serious problem with eating cereal on a timely basis here.
Thankfully, I had seen some Boo Berry on the shelves at Target back around Halloween and decided to grab a box for old time sakes. I mean, these are like the caviar of monster cereals. You can find Count Chocula all the time...Franken Berry here and there...but Boo Berry was the thing of legends when I was 8. Kids would claim they'd eaten them, but there was never any solid proof. Anyway, I checked the box: MAY 07. Hell yeah. But then that got me thinking about two things:
1) If this expiration date is MAY 07 and I remember buying it in October, how old must those other boxes have been????!!!!
2) I just ate a bowl of super sweet blueberry flavored cereal with purple colored milk and I'm about to go play football now.
This might not have been the best idea after all.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Brain Farts 8
Well, been a long time once again and I blame the Holidays, excessive drinking, and illness for the latest delays. Rather than dwell on the past and retell stories of the past couple weeks at this time, I'm gonna throw out a bunch of things that I've been thinking about or seeing lately, in yet another installment of Brain Farts: Not quite the full shit, but still entertaining:
- So with the recent head cold I've gotten, I've been forced to stay inside and kill most of my afternoons (I don't work full days this time of year) watching TV or movies while lying in bed. This, sadly, gets very old very fast. That is why yesterday, I decided to give myself something new to waste my time with. And this is where things got ugly. I went to White Flint, into the video game store, and picked myself up a copy of Final Fantasy XII. Yes, I know...but it gets worse. I then took my new treasure home and headed into my basement, where my PS2 is located. The configuration of the couches was not condusive to the amount of playing that would be necessary, so I grabbed the loveseat and rotated it so that it is facing directly at the television, about 7 feet from the big screen. I then brought down my comforter from my bed, a pitcher of water and gatorade, lit a fake log in my fireplace and settled into my new Nerd Fort for the next 7 hours. Yes, 7 hours. Hell, at least it's not World of Warcraft.
- So I was just reading that Dodger stadium is going to be introducing a new "all-you-can-eat" seating section in right field. You pay $35 (as opposed to $10 for standard left field) and you can eat all the hot dogs, peanuts, popcorn, nachos and soda you want. This could arguably be the greatest and sickest idea I've ever heard of. I feel sick after two hot dogs...if I'm challenged by the words "all-you-can-eat", it's gonna be a bad scene in the bathroom by the 7th inning stretch. If RFK adds this to the repertoire, look out.
- You ever buy something at a store and when you go to pay for it, you feel like the checker is judging you? Since I'm not feeling well, I went to Giant to get some drugs. Well, Sudafed was on sale for 2 for $6. Being the thrifty Jew I am, I grabbed four boxes and took them to the checkout. The lady gave me this look like I was doing something illegal. Or maybe she didn't, and I'm just paranoid from all the drugs?
- I guess that's better than when I went to the Target a couple weeks ago and bought a 36 pack of condoms and 6 gatorades. Awkward.
- Why are dogs afraid of helium balloons? Regardless of whether I show them to be non-threatening, Chloe refuses to walk by a helium balloon. She got trapped upstairs the other day after one that had floated up to the skylights finally fell down onto the stairs. Naturally, I didn't want my dog to be afraid in her own house, so I grabbed a knife and stabbed all 20 balloons that were left in my house from my birthday.
Alright, that's it for now. I promise I'll write an entry summing up the cruise from last month as well as my birthday fiasco, which is a new J-Man classic. Until then...
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Top 10 Christmas Gifts She Won't Want
I'll totally get around to writing a recap of the cruise as well as some other fun recent activities, including a trip to AC last Saturday, but I felt inspired to write another Top 10 List, and this one is topical, so I couldn't delay. Following along the same lines as my Top 10 Things No Woman Wants to Hear, I give you:
Top 10 Things No Woman Wants for Christmas
10. A gift pack from Bath & Body Works (This is obviously a cop out gift, and every woman knows it)
9. Another lame excuse why you won't give her a wedding ring (Trust me, I've given this gift before and she didn't like it)
8. Anything electronic (She's gonna know you bought it for yourself and that you actually had fun buying it, and that's gonna piss her off)
7. Anything that isn't wrapped (You could wrap a box of cereal from the pantry and it would be better than handing her the gift still in the original bag)
6. Jewelry with diamonds (OK, I totally was just testing to see if you were actually reading. Joking about giving her diamonds and not giving them is especially bad)
5. A year's supply of Nutri-system (Yeah, you better duck when she opens this one)
4. Jackie Chan blow-up doll with actual-sized Asian penis
3. Driving lessons
2. A menage a trois (the 2-girl variety) (But wouldn't it be great if she did?)
1. K-Fed
Top 10 Things No Woman Wants for Christmas
10. A gift pack from Bath & Body Works (This is obviously a cop out gift, and every woman knows it)
9. Another lame excuse why you won't give her a wedding ring (Trust me, I've given this gift before and she didn't like it)
8. Anything electronic (She's gonna know you bought it for yourself and that you actually had fun buying it, and that's gonna piss her off)
7. Anything that isn't wrapped (You could wrap a box of cereal from the pantry and it would be better than handing her the gift still in the original bag)
6. Jewelry with diamonds (OK, I totally was just testing to see if you were actually reading. Joking about giving her diamonds and not giving them is especially bad)
5. A year's supply of Nutri-system (Yeah, you better duck when she opens this one)
4. Jackie Chan blow-up doll with actual-sized Asian penis
3. Driving lessons
2. A menage a trois (the 2-girl variety) (But wouldn't it be great if she did?)
1. K-Fed
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Top 10: Cruise No-No's
As some of you may already be aware, I am heading out of town on Friday en route to Miami and ultimately a weekend cruise to the Bahamas. This will be my second cruise, and I am somewhat excited to see how this cruise compares to my last one, which was really fun. In anticipation of this trip, I thought I would bring back another of my old favorites, The Top 10 List. So, I hope you all enjoy:
The Top 10 Things You Shouldn't Do On A Cruise
10. Repeatedly ask people where the poop deck is
9. Smuggle weed you bought on the island back onto the boat inside your own poop deck
8. Attempt to pick up women by offering to let them join the boating equivalent of the Mile High Club
7. Run around in a red rugby shirt and floppy white hat, yelling "SKIPPER!!"
6. Challenge old women to card games and then flip the table in disgust after they beat you
5. Inform complete strangers that your plans at the next island are to "plunder."
4. Grow an afro and mustache, wear a white suit and offer love advice to anyone that will listen
3. Naked wrestle a fat foreign guy and then chase him around the boat
2. Jump in the hot tub...no joke needed. No, I'm serious, don't jump in that hot tub. Have you seen the other people on this boat with you???
1. Grab small children and their mothers and throw them off the boat, proclaiming, "Women and children first!"
Bon Voyage, bitches. I'll post some stories and pics when I return.
The Top 10 Things You Shouldn't Do On A Cruise
10. Repeatedly ask people where the poop deck is
9. Smuggle weed you bought on the island back onto the boat inside your own poop deck
8. Attempt to pick up women by offering to let them join the boating equivalent of the Mile High Club
7. Run around in a red rugby shirt and floppy white hat, yelling "SKIPPER!!"
6. Challenge old women to card games and then flip the table in disgust after they beat you
5. Inform complete strangers that your plans at the next island are to "plunder."
4. Grow an afro and mustache, wear a white suit and offer love advice to anyone that will listen
3. Naked wrestle a fat foreign guy and then chase him around the boat
2. Jump in the hot tub...no joke needed. No, I'm serious, don't jump in that hot tub. Have you seen the other people on this boat with you???
1. Grab small children and their mothers and throw them off the boat, proclaiming, "Women and children first!"
Bon Voyage, bitches. I'll post some stories and pics when I return.
Happy Holidays to Me
Last week, we decided to send an extra Holiday gift to those clients of ours that had purchased some very large items or projects this year. This was sort of an extra 'Thank you' to these particular clients, above the standard Christmas card that we send to all of our regulars. Having just received some Mrs. See's chocolates from one of our main vendors, I knew I wasn't going to send these out. You see, unlike Russell Stovers (my chocolate candy maker of choice) Mrs. See's does not label the chocolates in their boxes. And if you're anything like me, this usually results in the consumption of several absolutely disgusting chocolates due to sheer ignorance as to what is inside. I swear one was filled with mud.
So with this disaster in mind, I decided you can't go wrong with cookies. I had eaten Cheryl & Co.'s cookies in the past and knew that my favorites that they made (Sugar, Snickerdoodle, Oatmeal Raisin, and Cherry Chocolate Chip) were all really good. So we visited their site, found a nice Holiday box gift pack and shipped a few assorted cookies out to these lucky clients.
Of course, the package would include a short note, wishing them a Happy Holidays and thanking them for using our company this year, signed by me and the company as a whole. Ah yes, a perfect little touch to end the year.
But now I'm starting to think about those delicious cookies. Heck, I want some of those delicious cookies too! But nobody knows the ones that I like...except me.
So, I ordered myself the same gift pack, but specifically chose an assortment of just my favorite cookies. And of course, I included a card...I mean it is the Holidays:
Dear J-Man,
Enjoy these delicious cookies.
Love, You
Man, was I pleasantly greeted on Monday afternoon, when I found a package sitting at my front door...full of these great cookies. I really outdid myself this time...and it was sent with love. Love of cookies. Happy Holidays to me.
So with this disaster in mind, I decided you can't go wrong with cookies. I had eaten Cheryl & Co.'s cookies in the past and knew that my favorites that they made (Sugar, Snickerdoodle, Oatmeal Raisin, and Cherry Chocolate Chip) were all really good. So we visited their site, found a nice Holiday box gift pack and shipped a few assorted cookies out to these lucky clients.
Of course, the package would include a short note, wishing them a Happy Holidays and thanking them for using our company this year, signed by me and the company as a whole. Ah yes, a perfect little touch to end the year.
But now I'm starting to think about those delicious cookies. Heck, I want some of those delicious cookies too! But nobody knows the ones that I like...except me.
So, I ordered myself the same gift pack, but specifically chose an assortment of just my favorite cookies. And of course, I included a card...I mean it is the Holidays:
Dear J-Man,
Enjoy these delicious cookies.
Love, You
Man, was I pleasantly greeted on Monday afternoon, when I found a package sitting at my front door...full of these great cookies. I really outdid myself this time...and it was sent with love. Love of cookies. Happy Holidays to me.
Monday, December 11, 2006
BLOG DISCLAIMER
Given some concerns and complaints by past readers of my blog, I feel it is only appropriate that I post this new entry which I will have a permanent link to should you ever again feel uneasy with anything you have read:
- J-Man is a fictional character. The fact that I (the writer of this blog) refer to him in the first person is merely a literary device to help pull you in and identify with the characters.
- Some of the events described in this blog may be construed by many to be "illegal." It is in these instances that you must remember that the events, much like J-Man, are fictional. They may be loosely based on real events and locations, but once again...fictional.
- All of my blogs are intended for the sole purpose of entertainment. The actions described in this blog should not be attempted without proper supervision or not attempted at all.
- If you are a midget, retarded, physically handicapped, black, Asian, fat, ugly, female, Indian (Crazy Horse or Crazy Cabbie variety), Muslim, Jewish, non-Jewish, Irish, infected with an STD, an alcoholic, or other such grouping that I have mocked or made fun of at one point or another, please understand that my blog entries are to be taken as humor (regardless of whether they're actually funny).
Again, thank you for reading my blog. I feel now that we have established some of the rules of the blog, it is a happier environment for everyone to read and enjoy. God bless.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Brain Farts 7
Wow, no posts for two weeks and then I'm gonna drop two on you in one day! The other one I actually had started a little while ago and just completed today, so I feel it's acceptable that I throw out a new one going over some of the finer snippets I have come across over the last few weeks. As always, I bring you Brain Farts: Not quite as satisfying as the full shit, but still entertaining:
- So, ever since Britney Spears burst onto the scene back when I was in college, I have wanted to see her naked. I am a man, she is a hot woman...it's only natural. Well, now, here we are a mere 7 years later, and finally my prayers were answered. She drank it up with Paris Hilton and decided to go commando in a short skirt and a low car. But now she is fatter, trashier, a smoker, and a mother of two. Ugh. What a huge letdown. I am thoroughly upset by the quality of the pictures. That didn't stop me from saving them to my computer though. Come on, seriously?
- As I mentioned in the last post, I have found a new addiction in MySpace. And thank god I did. Because just last week, I received a new email and friend request from a random girl that I didn't recognize at first...and actually assumed was just another ad for porn (yeah, myspace mail has it too) until I read her profile. It is after that, and reading her message, that I realized it is a girl I actually had met only twice before and thought was ridiculously hot (thus the assuming it was porn). Because you see, this girl is not the normal kind of hot, she's the kind of hot where your guy friends wanna shake your hand and your girl friends demand to know why you're hanging out with "a whore." Well, not only did she locate me even though I had know idea she even knew my last name, she's now emailing me regularly and has now even begun texting me. God has obviously seen the pain I have endured this year, and is finally giving me something good. The possibility of hooking up with a girl like this is an inbred dream of all men since they first discover that the penis is used for more than just pissing, and I pray that I am somehow strong and funny enough to pull that off.
- Last night, I'm out at Dave & Busters with Jax and my buddy Dave, pounding a few drinks, playing the horse racing game (you know you love it) and grabbing some grub towards the end of the night, when Jax brings a friend of hers, that she ran into on her way from the bathroom, over to the table where we're sitting. This would normally not be an issue, except that this guy is a uniformed cop. So there we are, shooting the shit with this guy, me sucking back on my 5th Captain & Coke, when the bar announces that it is closing down. So, then he asks "Who's driving?" And it's me. And I'm pissing my pants (in the bad way), so I throw out this line: "Whoever's sober enough to find the car." Ha, ha, ha. A good laugh is had by all, we walk out of the place, he even walks halfway through the parking lot with us, before wishing us a good night. And then I got home and changed my underwear.
New Distractions
As you have probably noticed, the amount of posting I have done on this site has decreased tremendously over the last couple weeks. It's not that I don't care about you, my readers, it's that I have found so many new distracting things that seem to be taking up alot of my time. The first, and most distracting, is myspace.
For those of you that aren't familiar with myspace, why don't you come out of your hole real quick and let me explain to you this completely pointless addiction. Myspace is basically like setting up your own personal ad, much like match.com, except it is considered acceptable for even people in relationships to do so. The main purpose of Myspace is so that you can locate all of your old high school and college friends and ex-girlfriends and see how fat, bald, and/or whorish they have gotten. Much like a high school reunion, laughs are had at the expense of the few unfortunate shlubs, but without the whole awkward "what are you doing now? blah blah blah" conversations.
But there's more than just old acquaintances to be found. There is also a giant library of songs, music videos and television show clips that can honestly take up several hours of mindless clicking. I believe I have now seen every Sportscenter commercial since 1995, some several times, as well as every Saturday Night Live sketch that ever featured Will Ferrell. But not only can you watch them yourself, you can save them and bring them to your own page, so that your friends and old acquaintances can waste hours watching them too. You're welcome.
In addition, you can add pointless surveys/questionnaires that tell you things such as "what type of beer are you?" and "what color are you?" For those of you that have never seen such things, yes, it is as stupid as it sounds. And yes, I am Corona Light and the color Green...like you didn't already know.
But nothing is more popular on Myspace than plastering your own pictures and those of your friends on your main page so that they, and the whole world, can see how shitfaced you all got last weekend or how much little Jimmy has grown. But why stop at pictures...you can upload movies if you want.
And that leads me to my newest distraction...a digital camcorder. Yes, I know digital camcorders are for people with families or up and coming pornographers, and I don't have the former, but I have greater plans than being the next John Stagliano. Aside from promoting my dog as a future TV pet star, I plan to turn my blogging from merely the written word to the visual concept. It's called growth, assholes, and I'm trying to enlighten you with some visual humor to go along with my wity banter. Give it some time, as I asked for the editing software for Christmas/Hannukah/Birthday so I'll get it by the 28th at the latest. In the meantime, I'm brainstorming ideas of things that make me wanna pee my pants (in the good way) and taking raw footage of comical things (people falling, retards, Asian people driving, etc.) that I can somehow edit into several overall concepts later.
And lastly, in addition to strengthening my mind, I am once again returning to trying to strengthen my body, having returned to the gym after my injury and post-injury waiting period. Gold's has obviously missed me, but I haven't missed naked 70-year old men hanging out in the locker room.
So, now you need not wonder if the J-Man had died. I'm still kicking, and wasting more time than ever doing basically useless things along the same lines as blogging. I'll keep the posting coming though, and hopefully in 2007 will start to incorporate some video footage. I know, you can't wait.
For those of you that aren't familiar with myspace, why don't you come out of your hole real quick and let me explain to you this completely pointless addiction. Myspace is basically like setting up your own personal ad, much like match.com, except it is considered acceptable for even people in relationships to do so. The main purpose of Myspace is so that you can locate all of your old high school and college friends and ex-girlfriends and see how fat, bald, and/or whorish they have gotten. Much like a high school reunion, laughs are had at the expense of the few unfortunate shlubs, but without the whole awkward "what are you doing now? blah blah blah" conversations.
But there's more than just old acquaintances to be found. There is also a giant library of songs, music videos and television show clips that can honestly take up several hours of mindless clicking. I believe I have now seen every Sportscenter commercial since 1995, some several times, as well as every Saturday Night Live sketch that ever featured Will Ferrell. But not only can you watch them yourself, you can save them and bring them to your own page, so that your friends and old acquaintances can waste hours watching them too. You're welcome.
In addition, you can add pointless surveys/questionnaires that tell you things such as "what type of beer are you?" and "what color are you?" For those of you that have never seen such things, yes, it is as stupid as it sounds. And yes, I am Corona Light and the color Green...like you didn't already know.
But nothing is more popular on Myspace than plastering your own pictures and those of your friends on your main page so that they, and the whole world, can see how shitfaced you all got last weekend or how much little Jimmy has grown. But why stop at pictures...you can upload movies if you want.
And that leads me to my newest distraction...a digital camcorder. Yes, I know digital camcorders are for people with families or up and coming pornographers, and I don't have the former, but I have greater plans than being the next John Stagliano. Aside from promoting my dog as a future TV pet star, I plan to turn my blogging from merely the written word to the visual concept. It's called growth, assholes, and I'm trying to enlighten you with some visual humor to go along with my wity banter. Give it some time, as I asked for the editing software for Christmas/Hannukah/Birthday so I'll get it by the 28th at the latest. In the meantime, I'm brainstorming ideas of things that make me wanna pee my pants (in the good way) and taking raw footage of comical things (people falling, retards, Asian people driving, etc.) that I can somehow edit into several overall concepts later.
And lastly, in addition to strengthening my mind, I am once again returning to trying to strengthen my body, having returned to the gym after my injury and post-injury waiting period. Gold's has obviously missed me, but I haven't missed naked 70-year old men hanging out in the locker room.
So, now you need not wonder if the J-Man had died. I'm still kicking, and wasting more time than ever doing basically useless things along the same lines as blogging. I'll keep the posting coming though, and hopefully in 2007 will start to incorporate some video footage. I know, you can't wait.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Black Friday
Well, I really can't write too much right now because I'm about to head out to Tyson's Corner to see what this whole Black Friday thing is about. I'm sure I'll have some great stories and perhaps some scary ones since Black Friday sounds creepy. Maybe it'll be as creepy as that time when my cat watched this video and then the phone rang and all we heard was meowing...and then I took a picture of her and this is how it turned out.
Even the dog was scared.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Go Socks
Is there anything more satisfying than finishing up with the folding of your laundry and finding a match for every single sock? I mean, I swear I'd have to compare it to the feeling of hitting a homerun, with the walk from my bed to the sock drawer being the last few steps before you cross home plate. I'm gonna have to start wearing a helmet when I fold clothes, just so I can pull a Big Papi and throw it in the air right before I drop the socks in the drawer. Man, it's great. Woo.
Yeah, that's it. That's all I've got for today. Were you expecting something better?? Well, perhaps you should go do some laundry yourself and enjoy the experience. Then come back to me and tell me if you'd want to write about anything else. Jerk!
Yeah, that's it. That's all I've got for today. Were you expecting something better?? Well, perhaps you should go do some laundry yourself and enjoy the experience. Then come back to me and tell me if you'd want to write about anything else. Jerk!
Monday, November 13, 2006
Waiting too Long
A public outcry from my friends after my long hiatus has drawn me back to posting again. Not sure why I haven't posted as I've had some pretty funny stuff happening over the last couple weeks including getting selected for jury duty, seeing Ricky Paugh perform comedy once again, and of course, my continued efforts to locate a J-Woman through any means possible.
Sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long, but I imagine most of you in DC, and those that know me, are used to waiting longer than usual for something new. Perhaps it's something in the water here that keeps the population content with living with the status quo. Days pass, problems develop that don't get resolved, things are left unsaid or questions are avoided, relationships get strained, and yet nothing is done until far beyond the point that it should have been.
Well, this year, things have started to change. Back in 2005, the status quo was in full force. I was one of several of my friends in a long term relationship, longer than typically acceptable by female standards. In addition, republicans ruled congress and George Bush was in the early stages of his second Presidency despite being considered a complete moron and not doing much to endear himself to the overwhelming majority during his first term. And one Mark Brunell was showing week-in and week-out that his arm strength and control of the Redskins' offense left much to be desired.
But there we all sat, watching the days pass, turning our collective heads...Me, My Friends, America, and Joe Gibbs. And then it happened. The event that will long go down as a turning point in the world. An event that sparked the nation to change. Yes, my buddy Zack, after over 7 years of dating, finally proposed to his girlfriend.
The status quo had been broken. Things could be changed?? We can do something different?? And like a bully knocking over that first domino that the Asian kids had been setting up all recess, the chain reaction had begun. Within months, I had decided to separate from my girlfriend, my buddies Langley and Catheter Man had put an expensive "property of" sticker on their respective girlfriend's fingers, Ike's making a baby, the Democrats have retaken the house, and Mark Brunell...is still the god damned quarterback of the Redskins!!!!
Damn it Joe Gibbs, get with the stinking program. This guy can't complete a pass beyond ten yards on a consistent basis. Yesterday's game was a downright disaster...constantly throwing to the flats and 4-yard slants when we needed 8-12 yards??!! We have three relatively fast and shifty receivers, all of which seem to make pretty nifty catches when needed and you're telling me we can't hit them 15-25 yards down the field??!!! We can't even try to when we're already down by 20???!!! I know you guys have history, and that a breakup is always hard, and it might be a bit awkward since you work in the same place, but this is 2006 damn it. Zack is no longer still dating.
Jason Campbell may not be the guy you wanna take home to meet your parents yet, but take him out for some drinks, maybe a nice dinner, play some pool (I hear that's big now), and see where it takes you. It's obvious you're not going to the Super Bowl with what you currently have, and isn't the reason you play the game so that you can win a Super Bowl??
Could I have found a more round about way to bitch about the Redskins???
Sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long, but I imagine most of you in DC, and those that know me, are used to waiting longer than usual for something new. Perhaps it's something in the water here that keeps the population content with living with the status quo. Days pass, problems develop that don't get resolved, things are left unsaid or questions are avoided, relationships get strained, and yet nothing is done until far beyond the point that it should have been.
Well, this year, things have started to change. Back in 2005, the status quo was in full force. I was one of several of my friends in a long term relationship, longer than typically acceptable by female standards. In addition, republicans ruled congress and George Bush was in the early stages of his second Presidency despite being considered a complete moron and not doing much to endear himself to the overwhelming majority during his first term. And one Mark Brunell was showing week-in and week-out that his arm strength and control of the Redskins' offense left much to be desired.
But there we all sat, watching the days pass, turning our collective heads...Me, My Friends, America, and Joe Gibbs. And then it happened. The event that will long go down as a turning point in the world. An event that sparked the nation to change. Yes, my buddy Zack, after over 7 years of dating, finally proposed to his girlfriend.
The status quo had been broken. Things could be changed?? We can do something different?? And like a bully knocking over that first domino that the Asian kids had been setting up all recess, the chain reaction had begun. Within months, I had decided to separate from my girlfriend, my buddies Langley and Catheter Man had put an expensive "property of" sticker on their respective girlfriend's fingers, Ike's making a baby, the Democrats have retaken the house, and Mark Brunell...is still the god damned quarterback of the Redskins!!!!
Damn it Joe Gibbs, get with the stinking program. This guy can't complete a pass beyond ten yards on a consistent basis. Yesterday's game was a downright disaster...constantly throwing to the flats and 4-yard slants when we needed 8-12 yards??!! We have three relatively fast and shifty receivers, all of which seem to make pretty nifty catches when needed and you're telling me we can't hit them 15-25 yards down the field??!!! We can't even try to when we're already down by 20???!!! I know you guys have history, and that a breakup is always hard, and it might be a bit awkward since you work in the same place, but this is 2006 damn it. Zack is no longer still dating.
Jason Campbell may not be the guy you wanna take home to meet your parents yet, but take him out for some drinks, maybe a nice dinner, play some pool (I hear that's big now), and see where it takes you. It's obvious you're not going to the Super Bowl with what you currently have, and isn't the reason you play the game so that you can win a Super Bowl??
Could I have found a more round about way to bitch about the Redskins???
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