Growing up I was friends with a couple of brothers whose father owned a couple of car garages. And they had a huge car barn where we built hot rods and worked on our own cars. The coolest part about building these hot rods was that we got to drive them from time to time. You want to talk about feeling like a bad ass, be in high school and roll up to the school in a blown 23 T-Bucket or a 32 Ford Coupe with a chopped top and suicide doors, shaved door handles and exhaust loud enough to set off ever alarm in the parking lot.
A little before spring break one year, one of the brothers and I was talking about going to Panama City Beach for spring break. Of course moolah was the biggest concern. We were in high school after all. My friend mentioned that his parents were going down and that we could stay with them. This guys parents where cool as hell, what time we came and went was absolutely no concern, knowing his parents they were going to stay in a nice place (bonus). Then he laid the deal maker down on me, if I went we got to take the T-Bucket and the 32. Can we leave now!
Think about it, a young guy with sweet hot rods at the biggest spring break spot, I was in heaven. Spring break couldn’t get there fast enough.
The day of the trip comes and we are both smiling like a couple of rats eating cheese, even though it was a bit cool (probably in the 50’s). In typical fashion we make a quick check to make sure that we have everything before we head out and then go to fill up before we head out. Since these where hand made cars we stopped every now and then just to make sure that they were running fine and so on. At one point my friends dad had decided that the cars where fine and that we didn’t have to stop any more.
There we are heading down the highway being the center of attention to everyone going in both directions. My friend’s parents in the lead in the 32 with my friend and I following in the Bucket. For those of you who might not know what a 23 T-Bucket looks like mash here and if you don’t know what a 32 Ford coupe looks like mash here. Damn we were cool …and cold, but we were cool. Damn it was cold. Very shortly after the trip started we both opted for leather jackets. Not long after that we looked like freaking bank robbers, ski masks, gloves, two jackets, sun glasses and scarves. But we were cool. Shivering like a Chihuahua trying to shit out a peach seed, but we were cool.
Smelling that salt air when we finally got there made it all worth while. The girls in bikinis didn’t hurt either. It was awesome, we were damn near famous. We check in and couldn’t wait to get out and cruise. But we had to play it cool and not geek out. So we went and got something to eat with the parental units and put our plan together. We hopped in the 23 and scoped out the area, made sure to cruise by the beach to make our very loud presence know and so on. That night we decided to cruise the strip and look for tail… I mean see how everyone was doing. It didn’t take us long to realize that this car, which had about the same horsepower as the space shuttle, was not made to cruise in barely moving strip traffic. It was so powerful and geared so low that when we were stopping I had to pull up on the steering wheel to hold the brake pedal down. It didn’t take long to decide that when we were not moving to put it in park. Oh, one thing about that, this car had a slap shifter in it, but was put in backwards on purpose (long story, don’t ask), so instead of park being at the top of the column it was at the bottom. It can be a little confusing. So there we are with the car in park being too cool for everyone around us when traffic finally starts to move, I put the car in what I thought was drive but apparently it was reverse. I figured this out when I pushed down the gas pedal and we went backwards. You know that saying “frozen in fear”, that was the girl behind us in the little Honda Civic that we damn near plowed into. Fortunately I was able to stop the car from changing the aerodynamics of her Civic. I get it in drive and off we go, in the right direction this time.
Ironically I had just told my friend that I bet that car would cause a wreck that week because of people not paying attention, I know, I am good!
After cruising for a bit we needed some petrol and pulled into a gas station. Just as an FYI, if you accidentally put diesel into a blown 23 T-Bucket because you were looking at chicks, when the diesel gets to the cylinders and ignites it will shoot a big ass flame out of the blower. So we had to call the dad and he had to get a bucket from the maintenance guy at the condos so that we could drain the 8 gallons of diesel that some brainchild put into this car. Even as we were sitting there with draining the diesel out we were still cool. After making us feel like complete dumbasses his dad went back to the condo and we went back to cruising the strip for a bit. Remember how I was telling you about how powerful this car was and how it was not built for all of the cruising, well there is another reason this is true. The engine on this car gets hot, damn hot. It didn’t take us long to realize that we needed to get some air blowing over the radiator or we were going to have a problem. So we pull off of the strip to go hit some of the back roads for a bit. No sooner had we pulled off had I decided that to get air blowing on the radiator that we had to get moving so I punched it. If you looked at the pictures in the links above you realize that there isn’t much to this car, so the simple math of light weight car + extremely strong motor + dumbass standing on the gas pedal = the front wheels launching off the ground and two idiots screaming (literally) down a side road while doing a wheelie in a car. Thankfully my cat like reflexes told me to get off the gas pretty quickly. After repeating “holy shit” about 50,000 times each we both did a quick “are we dead” check and decided that we survived.
But we still had to get the car cooled off and we didn’t want to wait on it to cool on its own. As we are making our way to one of the back roads so we can haul ass and get the temps down some jackass in a mustang is trying to race us, yeah we smoked his ass and he suddenly decided that he had to turn, pussy. So we get the car cooled off and head back to the strip. After another hour or so of bumper to bumper, barely moving traffic the temps go up again. But this time we were at a prime place to actually pull over and let the car cool off, right in the middle of the strip. We pull off the road right by the beach (nice breeze blowing, I am a smart cookie) and proceed to hang out on the car watching the traffic. It was great, we were getting cat calls and invited to parties like it was going out of style. It was like the girls where coming out of the sand they were everywhere, life was great. A couple of girls pulled over behind us and where chatting with us for a bit when I noticed that there was no more traffic on the road in the direction that we were facing. The last car was right beside where we pulled over and then nothing as far as we could see. It was weird. Right after I noticed that I kept hearing this noise, this sort of winding noise. I checked and the fan on the car wasn’t running, the fuel pump wasn’t running but I could not figure out what this little noise was and it was getting louder. About this time I see a little light flickering in the distance. It was some guy on a scooter and he was hauling ass (for a scooter). As he got closer we could tell that he was not paying attention to the traffic but was looking at us. Then BAM he slammed at full speed into the car that was beside our car. He flew over their car and crashed face first into the back windshield car in front of them. His little red scooter literally broke into pieces. But it was like something from the circus, the guy rockets himself head first into the back glass of this car, lands on his feet does a 360 looking around and then collapses on the street. A complete WTF moment. Out of instinct we start to pick up the pieces of his scooter and someone went to go call the medics. When we realized that this guy was going to probably be ok was the exact same time that we realized that we had been drinking and that we need to bounce! We were out of there, slinging sand all along the way. Sorry, but I am not going to jail because of the human crash test dummy.
Some time later we were back on the strip and happened to be in the area where the human spitwad tried to carpool at 50 MPH when a cop motions us over. F’ing great, we are going to jail and there are so many reasons why: no seat belts; I have no idea if this car is street legal; the tail lights had this blue piece on them that made them light up purple which I heard was illegal; minor intox; no catalytic converter; being loud as fuck; DUI; oh and that hauling ass after that dude went X-games with that scooter. We pull over and shut the car off and I start to go for my wallet when the cop starts to ask me all of these questions, none of which were can I see your licenses. He says that he has seen us around and then proceeds to ask if the blower is really hooked up to which my friend interjected “You damn right it is!” Thanks jackass. So the cop just keeps asking questions like how many horses does it have, what size is the motor, this and that. Which I am sure is going to be used against us in a court of law. And then he ask us if we can fire it up and let him hear it. Sure, why not, if I’m going to the pokey might as well make it a good one right. So I crank the car and the cop says “rev it up” and I give it this little baby rev. The cops says “no man, get on it” and grabs the fucking throttle and opens that bitch up. People all around jumped, car alarms are going off, people are coming out of their hotel rooms to see what was going on. Turns out he is just a gear head too. So now we are playing this to our advantage we got a cop buddy. Man we let him sit in it, rev it like a drunken hells angel, take pictures and anything else he wanted. After about 20 minutes or smoozing with local law enforcement he ask us if it would spin the tires (33 inch Mickey Thompsons) we told him no because there is just too much traction and not enough weight. He doesn’t believe us and says he wants us to get on it to see. So he stops traffic and lets the traffic on the road get a good ways down the road. Then he tells us to “get on it but don’t half ass it”. So we pull out onto the road, I tell my friend to hang on and we punch it again. We pulled the wheels off the ground about two to three feet or so and got off of it long enough for the tires to touch the ground again and kept on keeping on. When we circled back around this cop was waving and giving us a big thumbs up. I just knew we were going to jail. It was getting late and we had enough fun for one night so we decided to head back to the condo.
I don’t know what we did but for some reason my friend’s dad was really happy the next day and let us carry the 32 out that night. We loved that car. It was totally pimp with a TV, cell phone (this was almost 20 years ago) and the most important thing heat/ac.
After the 8,372,623 time we heard “hey, ZZ Top” it started to get a bit annoying and people started seeing the back of our middle fingers. The car was red just like the car on the cover of “Eliminator” but we also realized that it looked like that car, even way back when we made it. So we didn’t need every geek on the strip to remind us. That car was sweet and so much fun to drive and you would be surprised how many girls you can cram into a car like that. After scoring some brew we wanted to head to a place where we wouldn’t get so much attention so we headed to this steak house and parked out back to drink for a bit. One of the kitchen staff guys came out to have a smoke and saw the car, we thought we were busted but he was cool and wanted to check out the car. Then he went and got some of his buddies and they will all kinds of excited and wanted to take pictures with the car and so on. Being the jackass that I am, I told them if they could score me and my friend a couple steak dinners we would let them take all the pictures that they wanted and I will be damned if they didn’t hook us up. Snap away fellas. Even the manager came out to get his picture taken with it. We just wanted to drink beer without getting busted by the cops, like I said we were still in high school.
After the free meal we decided to see just how lucky we were, off to the bars Batman! We roll into the parking lot of one of the biggest clubs on the beach, La Vela, and just ask the door guy if there was a place we could park where no one would mess with the car. The guy moves some cones so that we could park right by the door and he welcomes us in. We realized that something about those cars made door guys forget to id us. Advantage us! And since those were the only two cars we had with us we had to take one of them every time we went somewhere. Not getting carded makes up for all of the other hi-jinks.
Don’t get dead
Showing posts with label party. Show all posts
Showing posts with label party. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
86 Rules of boozing
1. If you owe someone money, always pay them back in a bar. Preferably during happy hour.
2. Always toast before doing a shot.
3. Whoever buys the shot gets the first chance to offer a toast.
4. Change your toast at least once a month.
5. Buying someone a drink is five times better than a handshake.
6. Buying a strange woman a drink is still cool. Buying all her drinks is dumb.
7. Never borrow more than one cigarette from the same person in one night.
8. When the bartender is slammed, resist the powerful urge to order a slightly-dirty, very-dry, in-and-out, super-chilled half-and-half martini with a lemon twist. Limit orders to beer, straight shots and two-part cocktails.
9. Get the bartender's attention with eye contact and a smile.
10. Do not make eye contact with the bartender if you do not want a drink.
11. Unacceptable things to say after doing a shot: Great, now I’m going to get drunk. I hate shots. It’s coming back up.
12. Never, ever tell a bartender he made your drink too strong.
13. If he makes it too weak, order a double next time. He'll get the message.
14. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she refuses, she does not like you.
15. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she accepts, she still might not like you.
16. If she buys you a drink, she likes you.
17. If someone offers to buy you a drink, do not upgrade your liquor preference.
18. Always have a corkscrew in your house.
19. If you don't have a corkscrew, push the cork down into the bottle with a pen.
20. Drink one girly drink in public and you will forever be known as the guy who drinks girly drinks.
21. Our parents were better drinkers than we are.
22. Never talk to someone in the restroom unless you're doing the same thing—urinating, waiting in line or washing your hands.
23. Girls hang out, apply make-up, and have long talks in the bathroom. Men do not.
24. After your sixth drink, do not look at yourself in the mirror. It will shake your confidence.
25. It is only permissible to shout 'woo-hoo!' if you are doing a shot with four or more people.
26. If there is a d.j., you can request a song only once per night. If he doesn't play it within half an hour, do not approach him again. If he does play it, do not approach him again.
27. Learn how to make a rose out of a bar napkin. You'll be surprised how well it works.
28. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to drink in a bar. Go to the liquor store.
29. If you owe someone twenty dollars or less, you may pay them back in beer.
30. Never complain about the quality or brand of a free drink.
31. If you have been roommates with someone more than six months, you may drink all their beer, even if it's hidden, as long as you leave them one.
32. You can have a shot of their hard liquor only if the cap has been cracked and the bottle goes for less than $25.
33. The only thing that tastes better than free liquor is stolen liquor.
34. If you bring Old Milwaukee to a party, you must drink at least two cans before you start drinking the imported beer in the fridge.
35. Learn to appreciate hangovers. If it was all good times every jackass would be doing it.
36. If you ever feel depressed, get out a bartender’s guide and browse through all the drinks you’ve never tried.
37. Try one new drink each week.
38. If you are the bar's sole customer, you are obliged to make small talk with the bartender until he stops acknowledging you. Then you're off the hook. The same goes for him.
39. Never tip with coins that have touched you. If your change is $1.50, you can tell the barmaid to keep the change, but once she has handed it to you, you cannot give it back. To a bartender or cocktail waitress, small change has no value.
40. If you have ever told a bartender, “Hey, it all spends the same,” then you are a cheap ass.
41. Anyone on stage or behind a bar is fifty percent better looking.
42. You can tell how hard a drinker someone is by how close they keep their drink to their mouth.
43. A bar is a college, not a nursery. If you spill a beer, clean it up. If you break a glass, wait for a staff member to clean it up, then blame it on someone else.
44. Being drunk is feeling sophisticated without being able to say it.
45. It's okay to drink alone.
46. After three drinks, you will forget a woman's name two seconds after she tells you. The rest of the night you will call her “baby” or “darling”.
47. Nothing screams 'nancy boy' louder than swirling an oversized brandy snifter.
48. Men don't drink from straws. Unless you're doing a Mind or Face Eraser.
49. If you do a shot, finish it. If you don't plan to finish it, don't accept it.
50. Never brood in a dance bar. Never dance in a dive bar.
51. Never play more than three songs by the same artist in a row.
52. Your songs will come on as you're leaving the bar.
53. Never yell out jukebox selections to someone you don't know.
54. Never lie in a bar. You may, however, grossly exaggerate and lean.
55. If you think you might be slurring a little, then you are slurring a lot. If you think you are slurring a lot, then you are not speaking English.
56. Screaming, “Someone buy me a drink!” has never worked.
57. For every drink, there is a five percent better chance you will get in a fight. There is also a three percent better chance you will lose the fight.
58. Fighting an extremely drunk person when you are sober is hilarious.
59. If you are broke and a friend is “sporting you”, you must laugh at all his jokes and play wingman when he makes his move.
60. If you are broke and a friend is “making sport of you”, you may steal any drink he leaves unattended.
61. Never rest your head on a table or bar top. It is the equivalent of voluntarily putting your head on a chopping block.
62. If you are trading rounds with a friend and he asks if you're ready for another, always say yes. Once you fall out of sync you will end up buying more drinks than him.
63. If you're going to hit on a member of the bar staff, make sure you tip well before and after, regardless of her response.
64. The people with the most money are rarely the best tippers.
65. Before you die, single-handedly make one decent martini.
66. Asking a bartender what beers are on tap when the handles are right in front of you is the equivalent of saying, “I'm an idiot.”
67. Never ask a bartender “what's good tonight?” They do not fly in the scotch fresh from the coast every morning.
68. If there is a line for drinks, get your goddamn drink and step the hell away from the bar.
69. If there is ever any confusion, the fuller beer is yours.
70. The patrons at your local bar are your extended family, your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters. Except you get to sleep with these sisters. And if you're really drunk, the mothers.
71. It's acceptable, traditional in fact, to disappear during a night of hard drinking. You will appear mysterious and your friends will understand. If they even notice.
72. Never argue your tab at the end of the night. Remember, you're hammered and they’re sober. It's akin to a precocious five-year-old arguing the super-string theory with a physicist. 99.9% of the time you're wrong and either way you're going to come off as a jackass.
73. If you bring booze to a party, you must drink it or leave it.
74. If you hesitate more than three seconds after the bartender looks at you, you do not deserve a drink.
75. Beer makes you mellow, champagne makes you silly, wine makes you dramatic, tequila makes you felonious.
76. The greatest thing a drunkard can do is buy a round of drinks for a packed bar.
77. Never preface a conversation with a bartender with “I know this is going to be a hassle, but . . .”
78. When you’re in a bar and drunk, your boss is just another guy begging for a fat lip. Unless he’s buying.
79. If you are 86’d, do not return for at least three months. To come back sooner makes it appear no other bar wants you.
80. Anyone with three or more drinks in his hands has the right of way.
81. If you’re going to drink on the job, drink vodka. It’s the no-tell liquor.
82. There’s nothing wrong with drinking before noon. Especially if you’re supposed to be at work.
83. The bar clock moves twice as fast from midnight to last call.
84. A flask engraved with a personal message is one of the best gifts you can ever give. And make sure there’s something in it.
85. On the intimacy scale, sharing a quiet drink is between a handshake and a kiss.
86. You will forget every one of these rules by your fifth drink.
2. Always toast before doing a shot.
3. Whoever buys the shot gets the first chance to offer a toast.
4. Change your toast at least once a month.
5. Buying someone a drink is five times better than a handshake.
6. Buying a strange woman a drink is still cool. Buying all her drinks is dumb.
7. Never borrow more than one cigarette from the same person in one night.
8. When the bartender is slammed, resist the powerful urge to order a slightly-dirty, very-dry, in-and-out, super-chilled half-and-half martini with a lemon twist. Limit orders to beer, straight shots and two-part cocktails.
9. Get the bartender's attention with eye contact and a smile.
10. Do not make eye contact with the bartender if you do not want a drink.
11. Unacceptable things to say after doing a shot: Great, now I’m going to get drunk. I hate shots. It’s coming back up.
12. Never, ever tell a bartender he made your drink too strong.
13. If he makes it too weak, order a double next time. He'll get the message.
14. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she refuses, she does not like you.
15. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she accepts, she still might not like you.
16. If she buys you a drink, she likes you.
17. If someone offers to buy you a drink, do not upgrade your liquor preference.
18. Always have a corkscrew in your house.
19. If you don't have a corkscrew, push the cork down into the bottle with a pen.
20. Drink one girly drink in public and you will forever be known as the guy who drinks girly drinks.
21. Our parents were better drinkers than we are.
22. Never talk to someone in the restroom unless you're doing the same thing—urinating, waiting in line or washing your hands.
23. Girls hang out, apply make-up, and have long talks in the bathroom. Men do not.
24. After your sixth drink, do not look at yourself in the mirror. It will shake your confidence.
25. It is only permissible to shout 'woo-hoo!' if you are doing a shot with four or more people.
26. If there is a d.j., you can request a song only once per night. If he doesn't play it within half an hour, do not approach him again. If he does play it, do not approach him again.
27. Learn how to make a rose out of a bar napkin. You'll be surprised how well it works.
28. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to drink in a bar. Go to the liquor store.
29. If you owe someone twenty dollars or less, you may pay them back in beer.
30. Never complain about the quality or brand of a free drink.
31. If you have been roommates with someone more than six months, you may drink all their beer, even if it's hidden, as long as you leave them one.
32. You can have a shot of their hard liquor only if the cap has been cracked and the bottle goes for less than $25.
33. The only thing that tastes better than free liquor is stolen liquor.
34. If you bring Old Milwaukee to a party, you must drink at least two cans before you start drinking the imported beer in the fridge.
35. Learn to appreciate hangovers. If it was all good times every jackass would be doing it.
36. If you ever feel depressed, get out a bartender’s guide and browse through all the drinks you’ve never tried.
37. Try one new drink each week.
38. If you are the bar's sole customer, you are obliged to make small talk with the bartender until he stops acknowledging you. Then you're off the hook. The same goes for him.
39. Never tip with coins that have touched you. If your change is $1.50, you can tell the barmaid to keep the change, but once she has handed it to you, you cannot give it back. To a bartender or cocktail waitress, small change has no value.
40. If you have ever told a bartender, “Hey, it all spends the same,” then you are a cheap ass.
41. Anyone on stage or behind a bar is fifty percent better looking.
42. You can tell how hard a drinker someone is by how close they keep their drink to their mouth.
43. A bar is a college, not a nursery. If you spill a beer, clean it up. If you break a glass, wait for a staff member to clean it up, then blame it on someone else.
44. Being drunk is feeling sophisticated without being able to say it.
45. It's okay to drink alone.
46. After three drinks, you will forget a woman's name two seconds after she tells you. The rest of the night you will call her “baby” or “darling”.
47. Nothing screams 'nancy boy' louder than swirling an oversized brandy snifter.
48. Men don't drink from straws. Unless you're doing a Mind or Face Eraser.
49. If you do a shot, finish it. If you don't plan to finish it, don't accept it.
50. Never brood in a dance bar. Never dance in a dive bar.
51. Never play more than three songs by the same artist in a row.
52. Your songs will come on as you're leaving the bar.
53. Never yell out jukebox selections to someone you don't know.
54. Never lie in a bar. You may, however, grossly exaggerate and lean.
55. If you think you might be slurring a little, then you are slurring a lot. If you think you are slurring a lot, then you are not speaking English.
56. Screaming, “Someone buy me a drink!” has never worked.
57. For every drink, there is a five percent better chance you will get in a fight. There is also a three percent better chance you will lose the fight.
58. Fighting an extremely drunk person when you are sober is hilarious.
59. If you are broke and a friend is “sporting you”, you must laugh at all his jokes and play wingman when he makes his move.
60. If you are broke and a friend is “making sport of you”, you may steal any drink he leaves unattended.
61. Never rest your head on a table or bar top. It is the equivalent of voluntarily putting your head on a chopping block.
62. If you are trading rounds with a friend and he asks if you're ready for another, always say yes. Once you fall out of sync you will end up buying more drinks than him.
63. If you're going to hit on a member of the bar staff, make sure you tip well before and after, regardless of her response.
64. The people with the most money are rarely the best tippers.
65. Before you die, single-handedly make one decent martini.
66. Asking a bartender what beers are on tap when the handles are right in front of you is the equivalent of saying, “I'm an idiot.”
67. Never ask a bartender “what's good tonight?” They do not fly in the scotch fresh from the coast every morning.
68. If there is a line for drinks, get your goddamn drink and step the hell away from the bar.
69. If there is ever any confusion, the fuller beer is yours.
70. The patrons at your local bar are your extended family, your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters. Except you get to sleep with these sisters. And if you're really drunk, the mothers.
71. It's acceptable, traditional in fact, to disappear during a night of hard drinking. You will appear mysterious and your friends will understand. If they even notice.
72. Never argue your tab at the end of the night. Remember, you're hammered and they’re sober. It's akin to a precocious five-year-old arguing the super-string theory with a physicist. 99.9% of the time you're wrong and either way you're going to come off as a jackass.
73. If you bring booze to a party, you must drink it or leave it.
74. If you hesitate more than three seconds after the bartender looks at you, you do not deserve a drink.
75. Beer makes you mellow, champagne makes you silly, wine makes you dramatic, tequila makes you felonious.
76. The greatest thing a drunkard can do is buy a round of drinks for a packed bar.
77. Never preface a conversation with a bartender with “I know this is going to be a hassle, but . . .”
78. When you’re in a bar and drunk, your boss is just another guy begging for a fat lip. Unless he’s buying.
79. If you are 86’d, do not return for at least three months. To come back sooner makes it appear no other bar wants you.
80. Anyone with three or more drinks in his hands has the right of way.
81. If you’re going to drink on the job, drink vodka. It’s the no-tell liquor.
82. There’s nothing wrong with drinking before noon. Especially if you’re supposed to be at work.
83. The bar clock moves twice as fast from midnight to last call.
84. A flask engraved with a personal message is one of the best gifts you can ever give. And make sure there’s something in it.
85. On the intimacy scale, sharing a quiet drink is between a handshake and a kiss.
86. You will forget every one of these rules by your fifth drink.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Guys rules for going to a club
Guys, this one is for you. With “Singles Awareness Day” or as some call it “Valentines Day” being tomorrow I thought that I would share with you some rules to help you find that lovely lady.
First off, women don’t want to be with some push over smuck. So be confident. Nice is for pussies, be a man. Jesus son, grow a pair! So if you ask a chick to dance and she brushes you off, tell her that you didn’t ask her for head just to dance and that she shouldn’t be such a cunt and to lighten up. They love that, drives them crazy.
Another thing that would help you is if you are so inclined to actually “dance” (god help you) remember these few rules for being a man while dancing (shiver).
• NEVER let your arms get above your shoulders. What are you some kind of queen? You’re not bringing sexy back if you look like it’s raining men, get it?
• Don’t ever ever ever ever ever sing along with the song. I don’t care how great of a song it is, never sing along with it.
• For the love of everything holy, don’t do the running man, the lawnmower, the sprinkler or the shaking dice thing. You only make yourself look like a bigger goober.
• Remember that dames think of dancing like vertical sex, so turn her around, bend her over at the waist and pound away!
• Never dance to more than one song at a time. Trust me, if you are a guy, you don’t dance well. Don’t make a huge ass out of yourself. And if you do actually have decent moves, leave them wanting more.
• No fucking techno, EVER!
Let’s move along to drinking. Beer is fine but is gives off a certain financial limit vibe. Drink mixed drinks. And not some fruity crap either. No drinks with umbrellas or fruit in them. What are you, Fabio? And for the sake of men everywhere, no bright colored drinks! Ever! Drinks should be dark in color. Come on you pansy, man up! And another thing, don’t drink out of a fucking staw, you are not in kindergarten. You got fuzz on your peaches right? Show it!
Make sure that you don’t dress like a dildo too. You’re going to a club to try to get laid, not an interview. No starch in anything you are wearing. And more than two buttons (starting at the very top of your shirt) unbuttoned is completely unacceptable. Come on dude, not t-shirts or anything with a hole in it. And don’t wear sneakers or tennis shoes, if you don’t have normal shoes you are not ready for a woman anyway. Wear a belt but don’t clip ANYTHING to it. And make sure that the belt and the shoes match. And no loud colors! Ever! If you are so inclined as to wear cologne pay very important attention to this part, JUST A FUCKING LITTLE BIT OF IT. Don’t bath in the shit. Let me give you some help here, go to the mall and look at the price tags of the colognes in the case. Find one that is more than you would pay for a bottle of cologne and find that tester bottle. Two sprays of it, no more. And if your hair looks like you just got out of a wind tunnel, well you are on your own, I can’t help you. Oh and no sunglasses. The more accessories that you have, the more you look … well just sad. Drawing attention to yourself = got nothing going for yourself.
Talking to chicks is crucial. Keep saying this handy little phrase to yourself “shut the fuck up”. And remember it. If you are talking, you are fucking up. Well if you are talking too much. Talking to women is sort of a moving target. Too little talking and you look like the guy who jerks off to Disney movies. Too much talking and you look like the guy who lives with his mom. Work on it, but never ever practice in a mirror. Two sentences at the most and no more than say eight words in a sentence. You want to look smooth, not spastic.
Just trying to help.
Don’t get dead
First off, women don’t want to be with some push over smuck. So be confident. Nice is for pussies, be a man. Jesus son, grow a pair! So if you ask a chick to dance and she brushes you off, tell her that you didn’t ask her for head just to dance and that she shouldn’t be such a cunt and to lighten up. They love that, drives them crazy.
Another thing that would help you is if you are so inclined to actually “dance” (god help you) remember these few rules for being a man while dancing (shiver).
• NEVER let your arms get above your shoulders. What are you some kind of queen? You’re not bringing sexy back if you look like it’s raining men, get it?
• Don’t ever ever ever ever ever sing along with the song. I don’t care how great of a song it is, never sing along with it.
• For the love of everything holy, don’t do the running man, the lawnmower, the sprinkler or the shaking dice thing. You only make yourself look like a bigger goober.
• Remember that dames think of dancing like vertical sex, so turn her around, bend her over at the waist and pound away!
• Never dance to more than one song at a time. Trust me, if you are a guy, you don’t dance well. Don’t make a huge ass out of yourself. And if you do actually have decent moves, leave them wanting more.
• No fucking techno, EVER!
Let’s move along to drinking. Beer is fine but is gives off a certain financial limit vibe. Drink mixed drinks. And not some fruity crap either. No drinks with umbrellas or fruit in them. What are you, Fabio? And for the sake of men everywhere, no bright colored drinks! Ever! Drinks should be dark in color. Come on you pansy, man up! And another thing, don’t drink out of a fucking staw, you are not in kindergarten. You got fuzz on your peaches right? Show it!
Make sure that you don’t dress like a dildo too. You’re going to a club to try to get laid, not an interview. No starch in anything you are wearing. And more than two buttons (starting at the very top of your shirt) unbuttoned is completely unacceptable. Come on dude, not t-shirts or anything with a hole in it. And don’t wear sneakers or tennis shoes, if you don’t have normal shoes you are not ready for a woman anyway. Wear a belt but don’t clip ANYTHING to it. And make sure that the belt and the shoes match. And no loud colors! Ever! If you are so inclined as to wear cologne pay very important attention to this part, JUST A FUCKING LITTLE BIT OF IT. Don’t bath in the shit. Let me give you some help here, go to the mall and look at the price tags of the colognes in the case. Find one that is more than you would pay for a bottle of cologne and find that tester bottle. Two sprays of it, no more. And if your hair looks like you just got out of a wind tunnel, well you are on your own, I can’t help you. Oh and no sunglasses. The more accessories that you have, the more you look … well just sad. Drawing attention to yourself = got nothing going for yourself.
Talking to chicks is crucial. Keep saying this handy little phrase to yourself “shut the fuck up”. And remember it. If you are talking, you are fucking up. Well if you are talking too much. Talking to women is sort of a moving target. Too little talking and you look like the guy who jerks off to Disney movies. Too much talking and you look like the guy who lives with his mom. Work on it, but never ever practice in a mirror. Two sentences at the most and no more than say eight words in a sentence. You want to look smooth, not spastic.
Just trying to help.
Don’t get dead
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Trippin
I am by no means a saint. I know this may come as a shock to some of you, but sadly it is true. The reason that I am no saint is because I had one hell of a good time growing up. And by good time I mean we did a lot of bad shit. If this is news to you, you must be new to my blog. Trust me, go read my older post you will love them. And that’s one thing about my blog, the old post are still gold! But this post isn’t about my older post it is about one particular night while in high school. Let’s all pile into the way-back machine shall we!
One cool Saturday night in the winter of my senior year of high school I was on my way to a bonfire party. When I got to this party it was no surprise to see about 40 of my friends who I used to run with already at the party. Since I was a wee lad of only 17 years on this earth it should come to no ones surprise that the majority of us were consuming beverages that may contain a percentage of alcohol. Who am I kidding we would drink Scope if we couldn’t get someone to buy us booze. So anyway we were on our way to Shitfacedville, population all of us. Like I said, it was a Saturday night. Now this group that I used to run with liked to get a little wild and sometimes we might get a little loud and we might raise just a little hell every now and then. Shock, I know.
For what ever reason someone slipped a hit of acid or something into one of my buddies beers that night. Of course at the time we didn’t know this. Now this particular friend was a small guy, kind of quiet and didn’t really look for trouble but it always seemed to find him. Another little tid bit about this guy is that he is HORRIFIED by grave yards, funeral homes and hospitals. Anything to do to with death and dying freaks him out royally. Not to worry, I got a story about that too, but that is for later. So anyway this guy, whose mom was a nurse ironically, would just geek out being around funeral homes, grave yards and hospitals. I mean this guy could spot an ambulance a mile way. I have no idea where this comes from but it has always freaked him out ever since we were little.
Back to this particular night, we are at this party and he is acting a bit odd but hell I just thought his sack dropped and he finally hit puberty. But as the course of the night went on he keeps finding me and telling me that he feels weird and that we need to go. So I tell him to haul ass, he didn’t need my permission to take off, which was always followed by calling him a light weight or something like that. Yeah, I am a dick. So after a couple of hours of this he finds me again and tells me that we need to go. Of course I can’t be nice and concerned about my friend so I ask him, “what’s this “we” you speak of white man?” and tell him that I was fine just where I was. Around this time he pulls me away from who ever I was talking to and hands me his keys and says, “Take me to the hospital, I am freaking out”. Now he has my attention for two reasons. One, as I mentioned the whole freaking out about hospitals thing and two, he NEVER lets anyone drive his car.
As we are walking towards his car this girl that he has been sort of seeing yells for us to wait up and ask where we are going. My friend, not wanting to make himself look like a major pussy, says that we were just going to go for a ride and that he wanted to show me something that he did to his car. Nice job McFly, thinking fast on your feet. *BOOM* did you hear that? Yeah, that was the sound of his plan backfiring. She wants to go with us. You have heard of non-verbal communication before right? Well his face screamed “oh fuck” if there ever was an “oh fuck” face. I tried to interject and tell her that we would be right back but she still wanted to go. Sorry fuckface, I tried. So he quietly ask for his keys back and sort of shuffles to his car. Now I am torn, while I am a bit concerned about my fried and his safety/health, the thought of watching him suffer through trying to not geek out in front of some chick he was trying to nail was going to be to much to pass up. “Shotgun” I called but was rejected because of that damn Y chromosome. Fine with me, the cooler is in the back anyway. So we are on our little trip down a very dark country road when all of the sudden in one swooping move lasting about a split second, my buddy throws the car into neutral, jerks up the parking brake, opens the door and bails out like a fucking paratrooper while the car is still moving. HOLY SHIT! What the fuck was that all about? Where the hell did he go?! All of that went though my mind in about one millisecond. Oh the chick, she was just screaming her ass off. So there I am steering this car from the back seat wedged between the front seats with this bitch piercing my ear drums with one long continues note.
Finally after what seemed like 20 miles the car stops and I figure out how to let myself out of this two door car from the backseat, oh and the girl, still screaming. About the time that I finally get out of the car, my buddy comes walking up like it was nothing. So I ask the fall guy, “dude, what the fuck was that all about” and he calmly replies, “oh nothing, I thought that I felt a bug on my arm”. You go airborne ranger out of a car on me while doing 40 miles an hour when I am in the back seat and it’s “nothing”. If ole Janet Leigh back there hadn’t given me a migraine I would kick the crap out of you here and now. Get you monkey ass back in that car now. No sooner had he got back in the car and started turn the key had he flinched and jumped out again. Come to fine out, it was the air conditioning blowing the hair on his arm that he was feeling. Ok numbnuts, time for a new driver. Of course instead of his buddy who he had known for almost his entire life, he ask this squish to drive. Fine, the cooler is still back here even if the beer is a bit shaken up after that little Robbie Knievel stunt back there, plus it’s your interior so what do I care if I spill a little beer.
During the course of this little road trip he cleverly gives her directions back towards town. What he also did was start to relax a little bit which in turn caused him to fuck up his cool. You see, since he started to relax, he forgot that the girl didn’t know he was freaking out.
As we are getting closer to the hospital I notice that every so often my friend would spastically change the radio station. We would be listening to one station and then as one song would end he would franticly start hitting the seek button, finally settling on a station. Then he leans back, exhales a big breath and I see him start to tap his foot. After this series of events happened a couple of times I asked him, “Dude!” (giving the WTF look) and he looks back at me with this crazy face. “What’s with you freaking out on the radio” and he says, “I have to keep finding a station that has a song playing”. To which I asked, “Why?” and he tells me that he has to tap his foot to the beat of the music to keep his heart beating and that every time that the DJ would talk or if they played a commercial he would loose the rhythm and he might die.
This would be the exact moment when the girl looks over at him, much like Stiffler from the “American Pie” movies, and says, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I almost flooded his car with urine as I was laughing so hard.
Now he has to explain the whole thing to her and somehow save face with her. Not only did he pull this off, he managed to talk her into circling the hospital for at least a half hour. I finally told them that I had had enough of this bullshit and that they needed to take me back to my car or find someone to buy us more beer. Fortunately, the girl felt the same way, well about the having enough of this bullshit part and decides to drive back to the party, have her girlfriend follow her to his house so that she could drop him off and then they would go home too. Good times!
Don’t get dead
One cool Saturday night in the winter of my senior year of high school I was on my way to a bonfire party. When I got to this party it was no surprise to see about 40 of my friends who I used to run with already at the party. Since I was a wee lad of only 17 years on this earth it should come to no ones surprise that the majority of us were consuming beverages that may contain a percentage of alcohol. Who am I kidding we would drink Scope if we couldn’t get someone to buy us booze. So anyway we were on our way to Shitfacedville, population all of us. Like I said, it was a Saturday night. Now this group that I used to run with liked to get a little wild and sometimes we might get a little loud and we might raise just a little hell every now and then. Shock, I know.
For what ever reason someone slipped a hit of acid or something into one of my buddies beers that night. Of course at the time we didn’t know this. Now this particular friend was a small guy, kind of quiet and didn’t really look for trouble but it always seemed to find him. Another little tid bit about this guy is that he is HORRIFIED by grave yards, funeral homes and hospitals. Anything to do to with death and dying freaks him out royally. Not to worry, I got a story about that too, but that is for later. So anyway this guy, whose mom was a nurse ironically, would just geek out being around funeral homes, grave yards and hospitals. I mean this guy could spot an ambulance a mile way. I have no idea where this comes from but it has always freaked him out ever since we were little.
Back to this particular night, we are at this party and he is acting a bit odd but hell I just thought his sack dropped and he finally hit puberty. But as the course of the night went on he keeps finding me and telling me that he feels weird and that we need to go. So I tell him to haul ass, he didn’t need my permission to take off, which was always followed by calling him a light weight or something like that. Yeah, I am a dick. So after a couple of hours of this he finds me again and tells me that we need to go. Of course I can’t be nice and concerned about my friend so I ask him, “what’s this “we” you speak of white man?” and tell him that I was fine just where I was. Around this time he pulls me away from who ever I was talking to and hands me his keys and says, “Take me to the hospital, I am freaking out”. Now he has my attention for two reasons. One, as I mentioned the whole freaking out about hospitals thing and two, he NEVER lets anyone drive his car.
As we are walking towards his car this girl that he has been sort of seeing yells for us to wait up and ask where we are going. My friend, not wanting to make himself look like a major pussy, says that we were just going to go for a ride and that he wanted to show me something that he did to his car. Nice job McFly, thinking fast on your feet. *BOOM* did you hear that? Yeah, that was the sound of his plan backfiring. She wants to go with us. You have heard of non-verbal communication before right? Well his face screamed “oh fuck” if there ever was an “oh fuck” face. I tried to interject and tell her that we would be right back but she still wanted to go. Sorry fuckface, I tried. So he quietly ask for his keys back and sort of shuffles to his car. Now I am torn, while I am a bit concerned about my fried and his safety/health, the thought of watching him suffer through trying to not geek out in front of some chick he was trying to nail was going to be to much to pass up. “Shotgun” I called but was rejected because of that damn Y chromosome. Fine with me, the cooler is in the back anyway. So we are on our little trip down a very dark country road when all of the sudden in one swooping move lasting about a split second, my buddy throws the car into neutral, jerks up the parking brake, opens the door and bails out like a fucking paratrooper while the car is still moving. HOLY SHIT! What the fuck was that all about? Where the hell did he go?! All of that went though my mind in about one millisecond. Oh the chick, she was just screaming her ass off. So there I am steering this car from the back seat wedged between the front seats with this bitch piercing my ear drums with one long continues note.
Finally after what seemed like 20 miles the car stops and I figure out how to let myself out of this two door car from the backseat, oh and the girl, still screaming. About the time that I finally get out of the car, my buddy comes walking up like it was nothing. So I ask the fall guy, “dude, what the fuck was that all about” and he calmly replies, “oh nothing, I thought that I felt a bug on my arm”. You go airborne ranger out of a car on me while doing 40 miles an hour when I am in the back seat and it’s “nothing”. If ole Janet Leigh back there hadn’t given me a migraine I would kick the crap out of you here and now. Get you monkey ass back in that car now. No sooner had he got back in the car and started turn the key had he flinched and jumped out again. Come to fine out, it was the air conditioning blowing the hair on his arm that he was feeling. Ok numbnuts, time for a new driver. Of course instead of his buddy who he had known for almost his entire life, he ask this squish to drive. Fine, the cooler is still back here even if the beer is a bit shaken up after that little Robbie Knievel stunt back there, plus it’s your interior so what do I care if I spill a little beer.
During the course of this little road trip he cleverly gives her directions back towards town. What he also did was start to relax a little bit which in turn caused him to fuck up his cool. You see, since he started to relax, he forgot that the girl didn’t know he was freaking out.
As we are getting closer to the hospital I notice that every so often my friend would spastically change the radio station. We would be listening to one station and then as one song would end he would franticly start hitting the seek button, finally settling on a station. Then he leans back, exhales a big breath and I see him start to tap his foot. After this series of events happened a couple of times I asked him, “Dude!” (giving the WTF look) and he looks back at me with this crazy face. “What’s with you freaking out on the radio” and he says, “I have to keep finding a station that has a song playing”. To which I asked, “Why?” and he tells me that he has to tap his foot to the beat of the music to keep his heart beating and that every time that the DJ would talk or if they played a commercial he would loose the rhythm and he might die.
This would be the exact moment when the girl looks over at him, much like Stiffler from the “American Pie” movies, and says, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I almost flooded his car with urine as I was laughing so hard.
Now he has to explain the whole thing to her and somehow save face with her. Not only did he pull this off, he managed to talk her into circling the hospital for at least a half hour. I finally told them that I had had enough of this bullshit and that they needed to take me back to my car or find someone to buy us more beer. Fortunately, the girl felt the same way, well about the having enough of this bullshit part and decides to drive back to the party, have her girlfriend follow her to his house so that she could drop him off and then they would go home too. Good times!
Don’t get dead
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Last Night
I did something bad last night, really bad.
When I came home from work yesterday I went and cut the lawn and did a couple of things that needed to be taken care of outside. So after the lawn work was done and I got to a point on my outdoor projects that I was satisfied that I was at an acceptable stopping place so I went and sat on the back porch to relax and enjoy the fruits of my labor.
For some reason, I felt the need to start a fire.
Don’t worry it was in my fire table. In case you don’t know, a fire table is an outdoor coffee table with a pit (for the lack of a better word) that you can light a fire in.
So there I am in the back yard with all of the exterior lights out, a fire burning and enjoying a nice drink.
And that’s when it happened.
I started to daydream just a little bit and decided to enjoy some music. I went to get my iPod and had this uncontrollable urge to listen to a mix of classic rock and southern rock. As I am gazing into the flames with a nice gentle breeze blowing I started to reminisce. I am sure that the memory inducing sounds of Boston, Bad Company, The Black Crows, Y&T, Autograph 38 Special, The Eagles & The Allman Brothers didn’t contribute to this preverbal trip down memory lane. But it was the first handful of notes and the words “Turn it up” of Lynard Skynard’s “Sweet Home Alabama” that kicked this trip into overdrive.
So there I am thinking back to bonfire parties at Jason Jones’ house, Chad (whose last name escapes me right now) land, the old Barn, the clay pits, Hollywood or any of the other places that we used to hang out at back home.
My mind couldn’t help but to think back to a multitude of Friday or Saturday fall nights with 30 – 50 of my best friends circling some form of burning wood, be it pallets, a tree that someone cut down or God knows what, with someone’s car stereo playing The Eagles’ “Seven Bridges Road” with almost everyone singing along. Of if I only had a tailgate to sit on at that time…
As this stroll through the outer banks of my memory continued, I can clearly remember talks of either the next day’s or that day’s SEC game and the friendly bickering back and forth between fans of rival teams. And I can remember knowing that if you saw this person, that person was either at the party or would be there shortly. So I guess I was getting a bit home sick.
That’s when it happened. As I looked back to the people in those memories I would this about this person or that person or this couple and then I would remember, oh they aren’t together and this person isn’t alive any more oh and I haven’t seen this guy in …. wow 15 years, I wonder what they are doing now and so many other things went through my mind.
And as I was looking back at some of the best memories of my life, I realized that life has moved on. And not that people have changed necessarily but that life has changed. And even though I am happy for everyone, I got a little sad for a moment thinking about how those are just memories now. Those times are no more. Not that the people are gone, but the situations are gone. No more will we be able to rally the troops for those great parties that we used to have. Of course I should be one to talk considering that I live half way across the country now. But what I would give for one more.
One more time where all of those faces would be there again. Once more, where we could all enjoy those laughs one more time. Just one more time to just see everyone, as we were, living the greatest lives known to man.
I know that they are just memories now, but I cherish them.
Don’t get dead
When I came home from work yesterday I went and cut the lawn and did a couple of things that needed to be taken care of outside. So after the lawn work was done and I got to a point on my outdoor projects that I was satisfied that I was at an acceptable stopping place so I went and sat on the back porch to relax and enjoy the fruits of my labor.
For some reason, I felt the need to start a fire.
Don’t worry it was in my fire table. In case you don’t know, a fire table is an outdoor coffee table with a pit (for the lack of a better word) that you can light a fire in.
So there I am in the back yard with all of the exterior lights out, a fire burning and enjoying a nice drink.
And that’s when it happened.
I started to daydream just a little bit and decided to enjoy some music. I went to get my iPod and had this uncontrollable urge to listen to a mix of classic rock and southern rock. As I am gazing into the flames with a nice gentle breeze blowing I started to reminisce. I am sure that the memory inducing sounds of Boston, Bad Company, The Black Crows, Y&T, Autograph 38 Special, The Eagles & The Allman Brothers didn’t contribute to this preverbal trip down memory lane. But it was the first handful of notes and the words “Turn it up” of Lynard Skynard’s “Sweet Home Alabama” that kicked this trip into overdrive.
So there I am thinking back to bonfire parties at Jason Jones’ house, Chad (whose last name escapes me right now) land, the old Barn, the clay pits, Hollywood or any of the other places that we used to hang out at back home.
My mind couldn’t help but to think back to a multitude of Friday or Saturday fall nights with 30 – 50 of my best friends circling some form of burning wood, be it pallets, a tree that someone cut down or God knows what, with someone’s car stereo playing The Eagles’ “Seven Bridges Road” with almost everyone singing along. Of if I only had a tailgate to sit on at that time…
As this stroll through the outer banks of my memory continued, I can clearly remember talks of either the next day’s or that day’s SEC game and the friendly bickering back and forth between fans of rival teams. And I can remember knowing that if you saw this person, that person was either at the party or would be there shortly. So I guess I was getting a bit home sick.
That’s when it happened. As I looked back to the people in those memories I would this about this person or that person or this couple and then I would remember, oh they aren’t together and this person isn’t alive any more oh and I haven’t seen this guy in …. wow 15 years, I wonder what they are doing now and so many other things went through my mind.
And as I was looking back at some of the best memories of my life, I realized that life has moved on. And not that people have changed necessarily but that life has changed. And even though I am happy for everyone, I got a little sad for a moment thinking about how those are just memories now. Those times are no more. Not that the people are gone, but the situations are gone. No more will we be able to rally the troops for those great parties that we used to have. Of course I should be one to talk considering that I live half way across the country now. But what I would give for one more.
One more time where all of those faces would be there again. Once more, where we could all enjoy those laughs one more time. Just one more time to just see everyone, as we were, living the greatest lives known to man.
I know that they are just memories now, but I cherish them.
Don’t get dead
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Shrooms!
Over the Labor Day weekend we have a shrimp boil and one of the things that I like to add to my shrimp boil is mushrooms. During the course of the day there was some conversation over mushrooms and of course it reminded me of a story or two.
While living in Virginia I went to see Pink Floyd in concert (F’ING AWESOME show, RFK stadium in D.C. sold out for three nights in a row, yeah, it was killer). While we are tailgating and prepping for the show this guy walks by the group of us who were going to the show together and says to this one guy in our group, “Hey big man… shroooooooommms”. My friend looks at me and gives me this WTF look. I said to him, “You can eat them and trip and some people make tea out of them to drink and trip”. He turns to the door-to-door fungus salesman and says, “You better get the fuck away from me man” to which the toadstool trader replied with his hands out in front of him, “it’s cool man, it’s cool!” and walked away.
So my friend asked me, people really eat mushrooms and hallucinate? I told him yeah and that they have to be special one’s which grow out of cow manure. The look on his face and the response was classic. And I quote “You mean to tell me people eat mushrooms out of cow patties?!” After I wiped up the beer that I shot out of my nose I told him yeah, those are the ones. I went on to tell him about how you can make tea with them and get the same effect and so on.
After talking about this people usually ask me the same question, “How do you know about this?” To which I tell them that I am a junkie. Of course I’m not, I am a saint! My halo should be here in 6 to 8 weeks :). Back to how do I know, which is another story.
Back home, while in high school I was at some party that God only know who was throwing out in some double-wide in the middle of nowhere. How I got there, why I was there and what possessed me to go to said function are irrelevant to the story. But I am there and as fate would have it there are chicks there, chicks who I have not met yet so they have no idea how big of an asshole I am yet, sweeeet!
So I see this guy that I know sitting on this washer (or dryer, not sure which one and didn’t really care) in this hallway of sorts in the middle of this double-wide doing what appears to be talking to two girls. Upon site of this I knew that I must put a stop to this right away. Oh yeah, the intentional cock-block, the very worst kind.
But as I got closer I realized that he wasn’t talking to them and it looked like his head was looking back and forth down the hallway, but just once. He would look to his left and then to his right and then mumble something.
Just in case he was about to strike up a conversation with these girls, I decided to nip it. So I stroll over and start to chit-chat with these girls, purposely putting myself between the Maytag man and the girls. After a few minutes I look over and see this dude sweating like he wrote bad checks and looking down the hallway to his right and then down to his left and ask him what he is saying, to which he mumbles something about not talking to me. Oookay. Back to talking to these chicks. A few minutes later I notice his head turn to the left and then to the right which was followed by something that was in inaudible. So I ask this guy what he said again and again I get some form of an answer stating that he is not talking to me. Ok, and again back to talking to these girls. The third time that I notice this slow head turn one direction and then the other followed by some mumbling, I look over and say “what?” and he says “I am not talking to you!” So I had to ask “Who the F are you talking to then?!”.
You know, in all of my years on this planet, I have only heard this response one time. And if I gave you 1,000 guesses, you probably wouldn’t guess what his response was.
His response was “Kermit the Frog”. Which was followed up with, “the S.O.B. walked by me three times before he ever said anything to me”.
All I could muster was “Ho…Wha... HUH?” “What do you mean Kermit the Frog, are you a fucking idiot?!” Now these girls don’t know to be scared or laugh and I am embarrassed that I know this fool. He then continues by pointing at a spot of the floor which is where he assumed Kermit was and then I guess he snapped out of it because he looked puzzled and couldn’t find Kermit, or Miss Piggy or Gonzo or even Animal for that matter. So this tool has my full attention now. I mean you got to right. How do you pass up something like that? And I asked him out right, “Are you retarded or something?” And he gets pissed at me, like I am the one who is talking to puppets that aren’t there. PUPPETS!! Not a dog or a fictional character from a movie or a dead person, no he thought he was having a conversation with cloth and foam! But I am the a-hole for questioning him on this.
After talking to him for a bit we find out that he has sucked down almost a half gallon of mushroom tea. This is when I found out all that is shroom tea and of its magical powers.
Of course the rest of the night we told him that Snuffaluffagus was looking for him and that he was going to kick the crap out of him. Why not pick a puppet that only Bigbird could see right?
Don’t get dead
While living in Virginia I went to see Pink Floyd in concert (F’ING AWESOME show, RFK stadium in D.C. sold out for three nights in a row, yeah, it was killer). While we are tailgating and prepping for the show this guy walks by the group of us who were going to the show together and says to this one guy in our group, “Hey big man… shroooooooommms”. My friend looks at me and gives me this WTF look. I said to him, “You can eat them and trip and some people make tea out of them to drink and trip”. He turns to the door-to-door fungus salesman and says, “You better get the fuck away from me man” to which the toadstool trader replied with his hands out in front of him, “it’s cool man, it’s cool!” and walked away.
So my friend asked me, people really eat mushrooms and hallucinate? I told him yeah and that they have to be special one’s which grow out of cow manure. The look on his face and the response was classic. And I quote “You mean to tell me people eat mushrooms out of cow patties?!” After I wiped up the beer that I shot out of my nose I told him yeah, those are the ones. I went on to tell him about how you can make tea with them and get the same effect and so on.
After talking about this people usually ask me the same question, “How do you know about this?” To which I tell them that I am a junkie. Of course I’m not, I am a saint! My halo should be here in 6 to 8 weeks :). Back to how do I know, which is another story.
Back home, while in high school I was at some party that God only know who was throwing out in some double-wide in the middle of nowhere. How I got there, why I was there and what possessed me to go to said function are irrelevant to the story. But I am there and as fate would have it there are chicks there, chicks who I have not met yet so they have no idea how big of an asshole I am yet, sweeeet!
So I see this guy that I know sitting on this washer (or dryer, not sure which one and didn’t really care) in this hallway of sorts in the middle of this double-wide doing what appears to be talking to two girls. Upon site of this I knew that I must put a stop to this right away. Oh yeah, the intentional cock-block, the very worst kind.
But as I got closer I realized that he wasn’t talking to them and it looked like his head was looking back and forth down the hallway, but just once. He would look to his left and then to his right and then mumble something.
Just in case he was about to strike up a conversation with these girls, I decided to nip it. So I stroll over and start to chit-chat with these girls, purposely putting myself between the Maytag man and the girls. After a few minutes I look over and see this dude sweating like he wrote bad checks and looking down the hallway to his right and then down to his left and ask him what he is saying, to which he mumbles something about not talking to me. Oookay. Back to talking to these chicks. A few minutes later I notice his head turn to the left and then to the right which was followed by something that was in inaudible. So I ask this guy what he said again and again I get some form of an answer stating that he is not talking to me. Ok, and again back to talking to these girls. The third time that I notice this slow head turn one direction and then the other followed by some mumbling, I look over and say “what?” and he says “I am not talking to you!” So I had to ask “Who the F are you talking to then?!”.
You know, in all of my years on this planet, I have only heard this response one time. And if I gave you 1,000 guesses, you probably wouldn’t guess what his response was.
His response was “Kermit the Frog”. Which was followed up with, “the S.O.B. walked by me three times before he ever said anything to me”.
All I could muster was “Ho…Wha... HUH?” “What do you mean Kermit the Frog, are you a fucking idiot?!” Now these girls don’t know to be scared or laugh and I am embarrassed that I know this fool. He then continues by pointing at a spot of the floor which is where he assumed Kermit was and then I guess he snapped out of it because he looked puzzled and couldn’t find Kermit, or Miss Piggy or Gonzo or even Animal for that matter. So this tool has my full attention now. I mean you got to right. How do you pass up something like that? And I asked him out right, “Are you retarded or something?” And he gets pissed at me, like I am the one who is talking to puppets that aren’t there. PUPPETS!! Not a dog or a fictional character from a movie or a dead person, no he thought he was having a conversation with cloth and foam! But I am the a-hole for questioning him on this.
After talking to him for a bit we find out that he has sucked down almost a half gallon of mushroom tea. This is when I found out all that is shroom tea and of its magical powers.
Of course the rest of the night we told him that Snuffaluffagus was looking for him and that he was going to kick the crap out of him. Why not pick a puppet that only Bigbird could see right?
Don’t get dead
Monday, June 09, 2008
Summer Fun
Ahh yes, school is out and the youth of America have gone wild. All is right in the world. But isn’t that what you are supposed to do when you are out of school for the summer?
I remember one summer when I lived in Tampa that I am surprised I lived thorough it. Not that I did anything all that dangerous (well not that relates to this story) but that I just did stupid shit. If being a moron wasn’t going to kill me, the punishment from my parents or my friend’s parents should have!
It was one of those nights where everyone told their parents they were spending the night at someone else’s house and we went out to pretty much be a menace to society. We didn’t do anything “all that bad”, not that we went out and built homeless shelters either. I mean who does construction at 2 in the morning, right?
I remember this one Saturday night so clearly. Me, George, Jamie and Scott were going to go to this party. We heard that there were supposed to be some girls from a different school there and we wanted to go check them out… oh and something about massive amounts of booze.
So there we are getting ready to go out when a bomb was dropped on us like we were in Hiroshima. Jamie’s mom, who was supposed to be out of town, was home. She wasn’t felling well and canceled a trip, that bitch! We wanted to go out and be hoodlums and she’s going to make us be half-way decent kids. We will see about this!
You see since Jamie’s mom was home, Jamie had to be home by midnight. And since we were going to take her car without her knowing it, with her home this was going to be quite a feat. Seeing as how the oldest one of us was probably around 15 we had pretty much blown right by the paddle store and was about to put the canoe into shit creek.
This would be when George and Scott had an idea, which is ALWAYS (repeat ALWAYS) dangerous. Since Jamie’s mom was not feeling well she was probably going to take some medicine to get some sleep… oh hell, I see where he is going with this. He continues with “She’ll be out cold. All we will have to do is push the car into and out of the driveway and we cool!” Sounds like a great idea right, at least on the surface. The jury is still out on if they are geniuses or madmen.
Scott even goes as far as to off to go ride his bike to the store to pick up some medicine if she needed it.
About 9 o’clock we say that we are going to watch a movie in the living room, this should pretty much force Jamie’s mom to go to bed. Which is all part of the master plan. So she retires to her room and we are watching the clock like we are waiting on the Governor to call with our stay of execution.
About 10:30 Jamie goes to check on his mom and says that she is out cold with the TV on. This is perfect, background noise!
We rush into Jamie’s room and change clothes while Jamie goes and gets the car keys. Finally about 11:00 we are all ready to go and we have the car keys, the car in the driveway, Jamie’s mom is just short of a medicated coma and we have background noise, what could go wrong?!
Out the window we go, Scott gets behind the wheel turns the key and puts the car in neutral. We push it out of the driveway. At this point we decided that this was too close to the house and that we needed to push it down the street just a bit, then we decided it was still to close and we push it a little farther. Jamie thinks we are still to close, Jamie’s ass got out voted this time. Hell, we might as well have pushed the car to the party if we kept going. So we fire up the car and off we go to this party.
It was a good party, lots of people there, music cranked up nice and loud and the cops came twice. Not to bad at all.
Now the party has wound down and it’s evident that it is time to go home. It’s not evident because people are leaving or because the cops told us to go home, it is evident because Jamie is pacing by the door like a puppy who needs to go outside and pee. He keeps on doing the head flinch then motioning to the door as if to say “Let’s get the hell out of here”. I am not sure, but I think he might have been nervous. Of course being the kind, passionate, caring people that we were we would hold up the keys to the car, jingle them, hold up a beer with our other hand, point to the beer and then point to girls. Jamie was PISSED! It was quite funny.
We finally give in and head home around 2:30 in the morning. The closer we got to Jamie’s neighborhood the more freaked out Jamie was getting. We wanted to give him a valium enema just so he would chill out.
So we get to the neighborhood and turned off the car to push it down the street and into the driveway. You know those neighborhoods where every third or fourth house looks alike? Well this was one of those neighborhoods. So we are pushing the car down the street just before 3 in the morning and with a bit of a buzz. If you have ever had to push a car before, you know that when you are tired it’s always easier to push it with your ass while you walk backwards, which is exactly what we are doing while Scott (who was the smallest of us) is steering the car. So Scott pulls into a driveway and we proceed to make our way back into the window of Jamie’s bedroom, me first. So I take the screen off and start to make my way into the house. At this point I stop and turn back to George and say “I think we are busted” which George answers with “Why?” and I said because Jamie’s mom put a lamp here. Jamie says “WHAT!?”
This is where the story gets interesting. Right after Jamie’s oh so nonchalant outburst I hear something in the room moving and it says “DADDY!” actually it yelled “DADDY!” It was a young, maybe 8 years old, African-American girl. Right after that, I see hallway lights coming on and this mountain of a man, who must have played on the offensive line for the Buccaneers, comes FLYING into the bedroom wielding a Louisville Slugger. So there I am pushing back against the window frame yelling “LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!!” while Jamie, George and Scott are pushing me in yelling “GET IN!! GET IN!!” You know how people say if you are in certain situations that your adrenaline kicks in and you have super strength? Like a mom can pick up a car if her baby is trapped under it. That must have been what happened because I so how ended up falling out of the window and Canseco swung for the fences barely missing me and making confetti out of that lamp. I swear I could feel the breeze from that bat.
So yeah, we screamed like little girls. And then just hauled ass. At first, I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew that I was getting the hell out of there and hoping that I could outrun just one of them. Fortunately Kimbo Slice decided not to pursue us. Somehow we all ended up on the side of Jamie’s house out of breath and crouching down for some reason. Feverishly looking over our shoulders. George says “Damn that was close, but we are home now. Everything is cool” I hate to break it to ya there Einstein but Jamie’s moms car is parking down the street at Andre the Giants house and I will be dammed if I am going back for it tonight. To which George replied with “Oh, yeah, forgot about that” and Jamie let out a round of “OH SHIT!” over and over again, about 30 times in a row. Well nothing we can do about it now and we are damn sure busted so I am going to hop my happy ass into the right window and get some sleep, later fellas! Did I mention that Jamie is still freaking out and telling everyone how it was a bad idea? Yeah, he does that from all the time to all the time.
Bright and early the next morning Mr Giant comes pounding on the door and we all collectively answer the door. Our asses were puckered up so tight that we could have been a diamond factory. But we explained what happened to both Jamie’s mom and the Jolly Brown Giant and prepared ourselves for punishment like had never been seen before. I think I am still on restriction.
Lessons learned from this are Jamie is NEVER to be part of any secret or Governmental affairs, The game Password, Surprise Birthday parties, Charades or anything which requires someone to remain calm. Scott can’t tell the difference between shit and shinola. And George and I drink too much.
Don’t get dead
I remember one summer when I lived in Tampa that I am surprised I lived thorough it. Not that I did anything all that dangerous (well not that relates to this story) but that I just did stupid shit. If being a moron wasn’t going to kill me, the punishment from my parents or my friend’s parents should have!
It was one of those nights where everyone told their parents they were spending the night at someone else’s house and we went out to pretty much be a menace to society. We didn’t do anything “all that bad”, not that we went out and built homeless shelters either. I mean who does construction at 2 in the morning, right?
I remember this one Saturday night so clearly. Me, George, Jamie and Scott were going to go to this party. We heard that there were supposed to be some girls from a different school there and we wanted to go check them out… oh and something about massive amounts of booze.
So there we are getting ready to go out when a bomb was dropped on us like we were in Hiroshima. Jamie’s mom, who was supposed to be out of town, was home. She wasn’t felling well and canceled a trip, that bitch! We wanted to go out and be hoodlums and she’s going to make us be half-way decent kids. We will see about this!
You see since Jamie’s mom was home, Jamie had to be home by midnight. And since we were going to take her car without her knowing it, with her home this was going to be quite a feat. Seeing as how the oldest one of us was probably around 15 we had pretty much blown right by the paddle store and was about to put the canoe into shit creek.
This would be when George and Scott had an idea, which is ALWAYS (repeat ALWAYS) dangerous. Since Jamie’s mom was not feeling well she was probably going to take some medicine to get some sleep… oh hell, I see where he is going with this. He continues with “She’ll be out cold. All we will have to do is push the car into and out of the driveway and we cool!” Sounds like a great idea right, at least on the surface. The jury is still out on if they are geniuses or madmen.
Scott even goes as far as to off to go ride his bike to the store to pick up some medicine if she needed it.
About 9 o’clock we say that we are going to watch a movie in the living room, this should pretty much force Jamie’s mom to go to bed. Which is all part of the master plan. So she retires to her room and we are watching the clock like we are waiting on the Governor to call with our stay of execution.
About 10:30 Jamie goes to check on his mom and says that she is out cold with the TV on. This is perfect, background noise!
We rush into Jamie’s room and change clothes while Jamie goes and gets the car keys. Finally about 11:00 we are all ready to go and we have the car keys, the car in the driveway, Jamie’s mom is just short of a medicated coma and we have background noise, what could go wrong?!
Out the window we go, Scott gets behind the wheel turns the key and puts the car in neutral. We push it out of the driveway. At this point we decided that this was too close to the house and that we needed to push it down the street just a bit, then we decided it was still to close and we push it a little farther. Jamie thinks we are still to close, Jamie’s ass got out voted this time. Hell, we might as well have pushed the car to the party if we kept going. So we fire up the car and off we go to this party.
It was a good party, lots of people there, music cranked up nice and loud and the cops came twice. Not to bad at all.
Now the party has wound down and it’s evident that it is time to go home. It’s not evident because people are leaving or because the cops told us to go home, it is evident because Jamie is pacing by the door like a puppy who needs to go outside and pee. He keeps on doing the head flinch then motioning to the door as if to say “Let’s get the hell out of here”. I am not sure, but I think he might have been nervous. Of course being the kind, passionate, caring people that we were we would hold up the keys to the car, jingle them, hold up a beer with our other hand, point to the beer and then point to girls. Jamie was PISSED! It was quite funny.
We finally give in and head home around 2:30 in the morning. The closer we got to Jamie’s neighborhood the more freaked out Jamie was getting. We wanted to give him a valium enema just so he would chill out.
So we get to the neighborhood and turned off the car to push it down the street and into the driveway. You know those neighborhoods where every third or fourth house looks alike? Well this was one of those neighborhoods. So we are pushing the car down the street just before 3 in the morning and with a bit of a buzz. If you have ever had to push a car before, you know that when you are tired it’s always easier to push it with your ass while you walk backwards, which is exactly what we are doing while Scott (who was the smallest of us) is steering the car. So Scott pulls into a driveway and we proceed to make our way back into the window of Jamie’s bedroom, me first. So I take the screen off and start to make my way into the house. At this point I stop and turn back to George and say “I think we are busted” which George answers with “Why?” and I said because Jamie’s mom put a lamp here. Jamie says “WHAT!?”
This is where the story gets interesting. Right after Jamie’s oh so nonchalant outburst I hear something in the room moving and it says “DADDY!” actually it yelled “DADDY!” It was a young, maybe 8 years old, African-American girl. Right after that, I see hallway lights coming on and this mountain of a man, who must have played on the offensive line for the Buccaneers, comes FLYING into the bedroom wielding a Louisville Slugger. So there I am pushing back against the window frame yelling “LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!!” while Jamie, George and Scott are pushing me in yelling “GET IN!! GET IN!!” You know how people say if you are in certain situations that your adrenaline kicks in and you have super strength? Like a mom can pick up a car if her baby is trapped under it. That must have been what happened because I so how ended up falling out of the window and Canseco swung for the fences barely missing me and making confetti out of that lamp. I swear I could feel the breeze from that bat.
So yeah, we screamed like little girls. And then just hauled ass. At first, I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew that I was getting the hell out of there and hoping that I could outrun just one of them. Fortunately Kimbo Slice decided not to pursue us. Somehow we all ended up on the side of Jamie’s house out of breath and crouching down for some reason. Feverishly looking over our shoulders. George says “Damn that was close, but we are home now. Everything is cool” I hate to break it to ya there Einstein but Jamie’s moms car is parking down the street at Andre the Giants house and I will be dammed if I am going back for it tonight. To which George replied with “Oh, yeah, forgot about that” and Jamie let out a round of “OH SHIT!” over and over again, about 30 times in a row. Well nothing we can do about it now and we are damn sure busted so I am going to hop my happy ass into the right window and get some sleep, later fellas! Did I mention that Jamie is still freaking out and telling everyone how it was a bad idea? Yeah, he does that from all the time to all the time.
Bright and early the next morning Mr Giant comes pounding on the door and we all collectively answer the door. Our asses were puckered up so tight that we could have been a diamond factory. But we explained what happened to both Jamie’s mom and the Jolly Brown Giant and prepared ourselves for punishment like had never been seen before. I think I am still on restriction.
Lessons learned from this are Jamie is NEVER to be part of any secret or Governmental affairs, The game Password, Surprise Birthday parties, Charades or anything which requires someone to remain calm. Scott can’t tell the difference between shit and shinola. And George and I drink too much.
Don’t get dead
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Storms
For the last week or so the Dallas area has been getting hit with some pretty heavy storms. Which is great, I love storms. But last night was a doozy. Something woke me up about a quarter to 3 or so this morning and as I lay there trying to get back to sleep I could tell that the wind was really picking up and shortly after the severe weather sirens were going off. Since I had been asleep I turned on the television to see what was going on. Line of storms, rotating winds, hail, blah blah blah. So we go get the kids and put them in our bed and I went into the game room to watch the news and see what was going on as the kids were going back to sleep. About this time the electricity goes off. Well this sucks, I am up in the early hours of the morning, it’s storming out and I am wide awake. It is about this time that I felt the call of nature. So as I am making my way to the bathroom in the pitch black of night during a storm I started to chuckle. The following story is why.
Spring Break come hell or high water, almost literally.
Way back around the time that I was in high school a group of us decided that we were going to go to the beach together and all went in on a beach house. If memory serves, there were about 8 of us staying in this house. Most of the week was great, typical spring break stuff, being loud, drinking, hanging out on the beach by day and partying by night.
Then one day the skies got cloudy and kind of dark and the winds picked up. Guess we will be partying indoors this afternoon. Somehow about 30 people ended up in our beach house but who cares right? Someone crank up 97.7 FM – Pirate Radio! And that’s when I heard it, that annoying ass beeeeeeeeeeppppp tone. What is this crap, right in the middle of “Alive” by Pearl Jam, that’s just wrong. Oh, it’s some weather crap, oh wait what’s that they are saying, a tropical something-another is headed our way, it’s what? Like a small hurricane? Oh ok. And then boom, lights go out. Well shit! Fortunately the boom box we were listening too had good batteries in it, because Pirate Radio was rockin that afternoon. It was at about this point that someone made the announcement of “Do NOT open the refrigerator unless you KNOW that you are going to get a beer out”, got to keep the beer cold you know, priorities and all that.
So the wind seems like it is whipping up around 100 MPH, the rain is going sideways and it is pitch black outside at 3:30 in the afternoon with the occasional lightning strike that seemed like it was hitting the house. But the beer is still nice and cold, we are going to be ok.
Someone found some candles, god only knows where but they did. But we didn’t really need candles, the light from about 30 cigarettes all light at the same time actually put out a decent bit of light. Man the inside of that house looked like London.
So we got a miniscule amount of light, a few dozen “young adults”, beer o’plenty, enough smokes to go around and oh yeah, this weather thing going on outside. HURRICANE PARTY!!! Oh hell yeah.
In case you didn’t know, youth + alcohol + beach – parents + wicked weather – common sense = narrowly escaping death.
About this time I see this girl who we will call “Mandy” making these fidget motions. At first I thought she was dancing or something. I keep watching her and after a while I notice this grimace on her face. So I walk over to her and ask her if she’s ok. To which she replies “No”. So I asked her what was wrong and she gives me the brush off answer of “nothing, it will be okay”. Alrighty then, spaz on. As I go to walk back over to where I was she grabs my arm and ask me if I know when the power is coming back on. Well, I am good but I can’t really predict the future. So I just tell her that I am sure it will be soon and ask her why. She does this shimmy/shake/fidget move again and leans in and whispers to me “I got to pee”. Okay, what the hell does that have to do with the power coming back on, go pee. So then it hit me, she can’t see. So I offer to help her and tell her that I can hold a candle or something for her.
This is where it gets humorous to me.
She gives me a stupid look and says “No, that’s not it”. So now I have to ask because I have to know. I lean in towards her and say “well what is it then?”, she looks me dead in the face and says “Well the toilet wont flush if the power is out”.
Now I got to find a mop because I just spit out the beer I was trying to drink. I am guessing that my reaction might have tipped her off to the invalidity of her assumption and she follows that up with “will it?”
Oh yeah, that’s right, we got those new plug in toilets. Good point.
Please god let her be sterile.
Don't get dead
Spring Break come hell or high water, almost literally.
Way back around the time that I was in high school a group of us decided that we were going to go to the beach together and all went in on a beach house. If memory serves, there were about 8 of us staying in this house. Most of the week was great, typical spring break stuff, being loud, drinking, hanging out on the beach by day and partying by night.
Then one day the skies got cloudy and kind of dark and the winds picked up. Guess we will be partying indoors this afternoon. Somehow about 30 people ended up in our beach house but who cares right? Someone crank up 97.7 FM – Pirate Radio! And that’s when I heard it, that annoying ass beeeeeeeeeeppppp tone. What is this crap, right in the middle of “Alive” by Pearl Jam, that’s just wrong. Oh, it’s some weather crap, oh wait what’s that they are saying, a tropical something-another is headed our way, it’s what? Like a small hurricane? Oh ok. And then boom, lights go out. Well shit! Fortunately the boom box we were listening too had good batteries in it, because Pirate Radio was rockin that afternoon. It was at about this point that someone made the announcement of “Do NOT open the refrigerator unless you KNOW that you are going to get a beer out”, got to keep the beer cold you know, priorities and all that.
So the wind seems like it is whipping up around 100 MPH, the rain is going sideways and it is pitch black outside at 3:30 in the afternoon with the occasional lightning strike that seemed like it was hitting the house. But the beer is still nice and cold, we are going to be ok.
Someone found some candles, god only knows where but they did. But we didn’t really need candles, the light from about 30 cigarettes all light at the same time actually put out a decent bit of light. Man the inside of that house looked like London.
So we got a miniscule amount of light, a few dozen “young adults”, beer o’plenty, enough smokes to go around and oh yeah, this weather thing going on outside. HURRICANE PARTY!!! Oh hell yeah.
In case you didn’t know, youth + alcohol + beach – parents + wicked weather – common sense = narrowly escaping death.
About this time I see this girl who we will call “Mandy” making these fidget motions. At first I thought she was dancing or something. I keep watching her and after a while I notice this grimace on her face. So I walk over to her and ask her if she’s ok. To which she replies “No”. So I asked her what was wrong and she gives me the brush off answer of “nothing, it will be okay”. Alrighty then, spaz on. As I go to walk back over to where I was she grabs my arm and ask me if I know when the power is coming back on. Well, I am good but I can’t really predict the future. So I just tell her that I am sure it will be soon and ask her why. She does this shimmy/shake/fidget move again and leans in and whispers to me “I got to pee”. Okay, what the hell does that have to do with the power coming back on, go pee. So then it hit me, she can’t see. So I offer to help her and tell her that I can hold a candle or something for her.
This is where it gets humorous to me.
She gives me a stupid look and says “No, that’s not it”. So now I have to ask because I have to know. I lean in towards her and say “well what is it then?”, she looks me dead in the face and says “Well the toilet wont flush if the power is out”.
Now I got to find a mop because I just spit out the beer I was trying to drink. I am guessing that my reaction might have tipped her off to the invalidity of her assumption and she follows that up with “will it?”
Oh yeah, that’s right, we got those new plug in toilets. Good point.
Please god let her be sterile.
Don't get dead
Friday, January 11, 2008
Baseball
A little while back I was at a friend's party along with a bunch of my co-workers. Typical for the hell of it party, just hanging out, shooting the breeze, drinking, and what not. In typical party fashion, we start to share stories and have a few laughs. Some how this small group that I was part of got on the subject of baseball. We were telling stories when one of the guys busted out with this gem.
He said that he was playing on his high school baseball team when the starting third basemen got hurt and the coach decided to move him from the outfield to third base. So there he is at third base and the coach is running drills where the play was at first base.
It gets to be his turn, the coach intends to hit a burning grounder but actually hits a nice line drive right about crotch level.
POW!!! Right in the cods! Or as he put it with his arm fully extended and his hand balled up in a fist, right in his "little bald headed champ".
He said that it hurt so bad that he actually peed in his pants. His teammates, being the caring guys that they were, decided to kick dirt all over his crotch so that there would be no mistake that he had wet his pants.
What a great bunch of guys.
He said that he was playing on his high school baseball team when the starting third basemen got hurt and the coach decided to move him from the outfield to third base. So there he is at third base and the coach is running drills where the play was at first base.
It gets to be his turn, the coach intends to hit a burning grounder but actually hits a nice line drive right about crotch level.
POW!!! Right in the cods! Or as he put it with his arm fully extended and his hand balled up in a fist, right in his "little bald headed champ".
He said that it hurt so bad that he actually peed in his pants. His teammates, being the caring guys that they were, decided to kick dirt all over his crotch so that there would be no mistake that he had wet his pants.
What a great bunch of guys.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Ozarkizms
As we are in full swing of the holiday season and Christmas cards from loved ones start to roll in I take this opportunity to reflect back on the holidays. Which often leads me to thinking about family, in turn I begin to think about home.
Ozark is kind of like the TV show Cheers, on acid. Where everyone knows pretty much everyone else, even if they don't acknowledge each other. So after telling some of my stories I have a lot of people who want to go and visit the Land of Oz, I think simply in disbelief. But that is a different story. What I am doing here is a simple reference of Ozarkizms. Think of this as one of those Forbes travel books. These are sayings or phrases that may be heard while in Ozark.
Let's start with some of the social gathering locations.
"The Stop Sign" - Yes, we have more than one traffic control device in town, but there is one particular stop sign that is a bit more famous than the others. Pretty much anyone who grew up in Ozark can tell you how to get to "The Stop Sign" with their eyes closed. This is the location of MANY underage social gathers. Probably has been more beer/liquor consumed here than any bar that is or was ever in Ozark.
"The Old Barn" – Again famous underage drinking hang out. Much like "The Stop Sign" only it's a barn, and down the street.
"The Old House" – Does this really even need a description? Located conveniently between the historic "Stop Sign" and 'The Old Barn".
"The Clay Pits" – An area of town that is owned by the highway department where they would dig clay to be used for road construction. Want to venture a guess as to what we did here?
"Hollywood" – No, not the one in California, not even the one in Florida, this is a field out in the middle of nowhere Ozark.
"San Quentin" - I would love to know who named a place where minors would gather to gather to get wrecked out of their minds after a PRISON. Makes perfect sense to me.
Ok, so you now that you have the layout of some of the social gathering location of the land, we will now move on to other commonly heard phases and sayings.
"Krazo" – Most commonly used nick-name of Ozark, which is simply Ozark spelled backwards. We are a cleaver group that way.
"Man" – This is not a reference to ones gender. This is most often used to start pretty much every damn sentence. "Man, I am tired. Man, I could go for a pizza right about now. Man, where is the party at?" At times this is interchangeable with "Dude".
"The Mall" – Ozark does not have a mall, but there is a shopping center that has been adopted as a mall. This is pretty much a vacant property where local youth hang out and cruise on weekends.
"Martindale 500" – This is a weekly event where the car owning youth and some old losers drive around the parking lot of "The Mall" in a circular fashion much like a NASCAR event.
"Oh Hell No!" – This saying is usually uttered in disbelief of an action that has just happened. For example "Oh Hell No! You didn't just drink my last beer!"
"I'ma have ta f*$k you up!" - A shorten version of "I am going to have to f*k you up. This phrase is typically the predecessor to an "Oh Hell No!" phrase. This phrase is used to express the need for discipline for a previous unpleasant action. Also known as a can of whoop ass.
"Get the hell off of my property" – This saying loosely translated means that the person saying it is advising the recipient of the phrase to vacate the immediate area which is owned by the expresser. Most often used with an unpleasant tone. Often heard in the front lawn/front porch/driveway.
"You mess with me, you mess with my whole family!" – A declaration that I am not alone and if this matter were to turn to an unsettling fashion I will be forced to retaliate with members both in and out of my nuclear family. Most often stated in trailer parks and High School parking lots. Oh who am I kidding, it's the redneck battle cry.
"I'ma have ta call the law!" – Shortened version of "I am going to call the police". Most often used as a means to intimidate one in a manor that there could be pending legal actions taken if you do not correct your current behavior/remove yourself from this area.
"Where is the party at?" – Loosely translated, this means where are people gathering to consume massive amounts of alcohol for no other reason than it is Friday/Saturday night.
"The Beach" – Although there are thousands of miles of costal property, in Ozark there is only one beach, Panama City Beach. All other costal destinations shall be known by the name of the city. For example: Destin, Fort Walton, Miami, Daytona, Long Beach, San Diego and so on.
"The Law" – This can be interpreted as any form of law enforcement, not specifically any one agency. This has nothing to do with the written codes by which citizens must obey.
"Party" – Anywhere that there are more than two people who are drinking.
"Hangin Out" – One or more people, who are drinking.
"Going to the river Sundee" – Typically this could be a question "Going to the river Sunday?" or an answer "What are you doing this weekend? So and so is having a party Saturdee (Saturday) and going to the river Sundee (Sunday)." This even usually involves either owning or knowing someone who owns a four wheel drive truck and driving under bridges on various county and state highways where groups gather to stand in ankle deep water and drink beer.
"River Rat" – One who is "Going to the river Sundee". A regular participant of such events.
"The Block" – A place that you don't want to be, even in the daytime. Often referred to as Compton of the south.
"Yankee queer" – This lovely phrase is aimed at anyone who can be identified as not from Ozark and who has done something to upset a local.
... sigh
Ozark is kind of like the TV show Cheers, on acid. Where everyone knows pretty much everyone else, even if they don't acknowledge each other. So after telling some of my stories I have a lot of people who want to go and visit the Land of Oz, I think simply in disbelief. But that is a different story. What I am doing here is a simple reference of Ozarkizms. Think of this as one of those Forbes travel books. These are sayings or phrases that may be heard while in Ozark.
Let's start with some of the social gathering locations.
"The Stop Sign" - Yes, we have more than one traffic control device in town, but there is one particular stop sign that is a bit more famous than the others. Pretty much anyone who grew up in Ozark can tell you how to get to "The Stop Sign" with their eyes closed. This is the location of MANY underage social gathers. Probably has been more beer/liquor consumed here than any bar that is or was ever in Ozark.
"The Old Barn" – Again famous underage drinking hang out. Much like "The Stop Sign" only it's a barn, and down the street.
"The Old House" – Does this really even need a description? Located conveniently between the historic "Stop Sign" and 'The Old Barn".
"The Clay Pits" – An area of town that is owned by the highway department where they would dig clay to be used for road construction. Want to venture a guess as to what we did here?
"Hollywood" – No, not the one in California, not even the one in Florida, this is a field out in the middle of nowhere Ozark.
"San Quentin" - I would love to know who named a place where minors would gather to gather to get wrecked out of their minds after a PRISON. Makes perfect sense to me.
Ok, so you now that you have the layout of some of the social gathering location of the land, we will now move on to other commonly heard phases and sayings.
"Krazo" – Most commonly used nick-name of Ozark, which is simply Ozark spelled backwards. We are a cleaver group that way.
"Man" – This is not a reference to ones gender. This is most often used to start pretty much every damn sentence. "Man, I am tired. Man, I could go for a pizza right about now. Man, where is the party at?" At times this is interchangeable with "Dude".
"The Mall" – Ozark does not have a mall, but there is a shopping center that has been adopted as a mall. This is pretty much a vacant property where local youth hang out and cruise on weekends.
"Martindale 500" – This is a weekly event where the car owning youth and some old losers drive around the parking lot of "The Mall" in a circular fashion much like a NASCAR event.
"Oh Hell No!" – This saying is usually uttered in disbelief of an action that has just happened. For example "Oh Hell No! You didn't just drink my last beer!"
"I'ma have ta f*$k you up!" - A shorten version of "I am going to have to f*k you up. This phrase is typically the predecessor to an "Oh Hell No!" phrase. This phrase is used to express the need for discipline for a previous unpleasant action. Also known as a can of whoop ass.
"Get the hell off of my property" – This saying loosely translated means that the person saying it is advising the recipient of the phrase to vacate the immediate area which is owned by the expresser. Most often used with an unpleasant tone. Often heard in the front lawn/front porch/driveway.
"You mess with me, you mess with my whole family!" – A declaration that I am not alone and if this matter were to turn to an unsettling fashion I will be forced to retaliate with members both in and out of my nuclear family. Most often stated in trailer parks and High School parking lots. Oh who am I kidding, it's the redneck battle cry.
"I'ma have ta call the law!" – Shortened version of "I am going to call the police". Most often used as a means to intimidate one in a manor that there could be pending legal actions taken if you do not correct your current behavior/remove yourself from this area.
"Where is the party at?" – Loosely translated, this means where are people gathering to consume massive amounts of alcohol for no other reason than it is Friday/Saturday night.
"The Beach" – Although there are thousands of miles of costal property, in Ozark there is only one beach, Panama City Beach. All other costal destinations shall be known by the name of the city. For example: Destin, Fort Walton, Miami, Daytona, Long Beach, San Diego and so on.
"The Law" – This can be interpreted as any form of law enforcement, not specifically any one agency. This has nothing to do with the written codes by which citizens must obey.
"Party" – Anywhere that there are more than two people who are drinking.
"Hangin Out" – One or more people, who are drinking.
"Going to the river Sundee" – Typically this could be a question "Going to the river Sunday?" or an answer "What are you doing this weekend? So and so is having a party Saturdee (Saturday) and going to the river Sundee (Sunday)." This even usually involves either owning or knowing someone who owns a four wheel drive truck and driving under bridges on various county and state highways where groups gather to stand in ankle deep water and drink beer.
"River Rat" – One who is "Going to the river Sundee". A regular participant of such events.
"The Block" – A place that you don't want to be, even in the daytime. Often referred to as Compton of the south.
"Yankee queer" – This lovely phrase is aimed at anyone who can be identified as not from Ozark and who has done something to upset a local.
... sigh
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Vegas Baby!
Our little vacation group decided that we wanted to go to Vegas a few years back for our summer vacation. The week of the Fourth of July to be exact. So we go and book our rooms and rental car, buy plane tickets and all of that good stuff. When the trip finally got there we all somehow ended up in Dallas at the same time so we all went to the airport together and were on the same flight out. We go through the whole deal at the airport, check our bags and wait for our flight. So far so good. Damnit, I bet I just did it again. So the plane gets there and there is hardly anyone getting off so we get to board rather quickly. Everyone gets on and gets seated. The captain makes the usual announcements and the flight crew does their thing. At this point I go to turn on my vent to get a little air moving because it was getting a bit stuffy in the plane. Where is the vent? Hmm, not on the ceiling, not in my pocket, wonder where it is. Oh that’s right this ancient plane didn’t have vents. Not like they didn’t work, there were none. So it is July in Dallas, going to Nevada with no vent. I didn’t know we booked a flight on Stinky Airlines. Fortunately, since it was a morning flight it didn’t get too bad. But I am guessing that plane must get ripe about 4 in the afternoon.
So we land in Vegas, get our baggage and make our way to the car rental place. I notice about two or three people ahead of us is a lady with three single digit aged children. When it is her turn at the desk she gives them all of her information and after a reasonable amount of time she is done and they tell her that her car is being pulled up front for her. Right about the time we get to the desk the lady comes back in and politely ask if she can speak to the rental agent for a second. Since she was nice about it and had three young children with her, I had no problem letting her go ahead of me. She politely tells the desk agent that she is going to need another car and that there is something wrong with the back seat of the one she got. The desk agent got an attitude with her and says “all of these people want their cars too” and motions to the line with her hand. This would be when the lady spoke up and said “You don’t understand, there is a jagged piece of metal sticking through the seat and into my sons back. I suggest you get me a different car now or I can call your corporate office and let them know about you and your service, what do you think about that?!” I don’t even know that woman but she made a tear come to my eye, I am so proud of her. She gets her car and shortly afterwards we get our car and are on our way.
It is about ten in the morning on a Sunday morning and we are on the strip making our way to the hotels when this woman who is way past hammered falls INTO traffic in front of us. I knew there was a lot of magic in Vegas but I am so glad I didn’t see the trick where this woman’s head gets turned into a pancake.
We drop off our friends and make our way to our hotel where a bellhop grabs our bags out of the trunk and a valet parks the car. Man I love Vegas. We get to the desk to check in when the girl behind the counter lets us know that our room is not ready yet. I was a little pissed but it was not a big deal. I asked her how long did she think it would be and she told me that they were cleaning it now and it might be twenty to thirty minutes. She also mentions that we could go check out the shops or the casinos. I ask her what are we supposed to do with our bags and she tells us that we can keep them in their secure room until our room is ready. Well off to the casino we go! About forty-five minutes later we come back to the desk and find out that the room isn’t ready yet. Back to shopping and the casino we go. After about thirty more minutes we go back to the desk and find out that the damn room still isn’t ready. Ok, this is BS. We go exploring some more and get back to the desk about a half hour later and the room still isn’t ready. This is when I asked them how long does it take to clean a room. This is when they realized that I had been there about two hours trying to check in. Well our room wasn’t ready but one of the upgraded suites was. Free upgrade, nice.
We get into our room and I call my buddy to see if they wanted to hit the strip. When we met up with them my buddies wife asked how our room was and we told them our little story and then we asked about theirs. My buddies wife shoots him a look so I know this is going to be good. She tells us that when they got into their room that it smelled like body order. So she tells my friend to go tell the front desk and see what they can do about it. He goes to the front desk and tells them that their room stinks and then heads to the casino for a drink. While he is gone the wife decides to take a bath. During her nice relaxing bath she hears the door to the room open and close. After a couple of seconds she calls out her husbands name, a few seconds later she hears the door open and close again. Again she calls out her husbands name and gets no response. She tells us that then she gets out of the bath, puts on a robe and heads out into the room to find that there was no one there. But she did notice that the room now smelled like someone walked around in the room spraying a bottle of Dakar cologne. Shortly after this my buddy gets back to his hotel room. His wife ask him if he came in and left again, to which he answers no then she ask him what the desk clerk said and he said “nothing”. He told her that the desk clerk said that they would send someone up to check it out. Of course she is pissed because he didn’t say anything to her about it and he don’t get why she is pissed.
The next day we all branch off into our own little groups and do our own thing during the day and meet up for a nice diner at night. Since we were there in July it was hot, dry hot or not, it was freaking hot. I believe it was 115 that day. There was even a news report where people were passing out while waiting in line to get into the Hoover Dam. So as we are going from hotel to hotel we develop quite a thirst. J Since I was doing the driving I had no alcohol and since my then girlfriend (now wife) was on vacation and I was driving she was getting her drink on. Long story, short version, in the course of the afternoon she has four forty-eight ounce mixed drinks. We get to diner and she is still conscious, woohoo! After we finish our meal the wives decide to go back to their rooms but the fellas wanted to ramble. So we take off and the girls go back to their rooms. We are just going from casino to casino. While we are in one casino my buddy is looking around like he is looking for someone, well he was. A waitress. He spots one and moves over to a slot machine that appears to be in her path. He sits down just about the time she is near and ask if he wants anything to drink. Of course he replies with “Yes” and give her is order. No sooner had she walked away that he stands up. A couple of minutes later he sits back down and the waitress brings him his drink. He takes a sip and says “thirty-five cents”. To which I reply with “what?” again he says “thirty-five cents, that’s how much this drink cost me”. Dude you really should be ashamed.
Several hours later, around four in the morning, we all come strolling back to our rooms where I find my wife, asleep in bed, well half of her was. She tried to get a bath when the booze kicked in and she could no longer stand. So she crawls to the bed and gets most of her torso onto the bed.
The next day comes and we are all hanging out doing our own thing. Later that night we are going into downtown Vegas to the Golden Nugget to see the Amazing Jonathan. That show was awesome! Totally worth it, if you get a chance go see him.
Day four and it is the same routine, we go and check out different things in the city, went to the dessert, gamble, shop and so on. That night we were going to eat at Emeril’s NOLA Steakhouse. Fantastic meal and we were served by the captain of the restaurant. That really was a nice treat. After that meal we go over to see Siegfried and Roy. I was a bit let down because the show started out really gay. Not that kind of gay, cheesy gay. Like one of their tricks they put a tiger in a cage, cover the cage with a cloth and from the other end of the stage they point at the cage. When the cloth drops the tiger is gone. How much did I pay for this bullshit? Anyway, after a while the show gets better, but the funny thing was when you order a drink from the waitress, they bring you two at a time. I am sure this is to save time and to keep from disturbing everyone going up and down the isles and so on. During the show, one of my buddies and his wife are sitting across the table from us. When the house lights come up after the show I see a Corona, a full Corona with the lime still in the top of the bottle at that. I jokingly motion to my buddy and say “free beer”. He does this yawn/stretch move and snatches the beer off of the table. I give him credit for the move when he begins to drink it. I don’t know what came over me but I busted out with “Dude! That guy could have been rubbing his pecker on that bottle!” Without missing a beat he says “Pecker taste gooooood”. Yeah, it took him a while to live that down.
Later that night, the better half and I decided to catch a show at like three o’clock in the morning, simply because you can do that in Vegas. On a recommendation from my now Mother-In-Law we went to see a synchronized swimming show called “Splash”. So we go to check it out. Time to set the scene for you, there is my girlfriend and myself and about 200 asian men in overcoats, in Vegas, in July. No other women there, hmmm, should this strike me as odd? NAH! So we get seated in what appears to have been the orchestra pit at one time. You know like right up front where the band would sit kind of thing. WTF? How am I going to be able to see a swimming show from this close up? Since we are in the pit there is this walk-way around us. For us to get to our seats they have to open this drawbridge thing on the walkway. Well I hope I don’t have to pee or anything since I am locked in now. So after a few minutes of sitting there confused, they start the show. It starts like a variety show with jugglers, a contortionist, a comic, and so on. Even had ice skaters. Where is the pool? I don’t get it, are they going to bring out a tank or something? Then comes the announcer, “Ladies (ladies? like plural?) and gentlemen , Splash After Dark proudly presents the Splash After Dark dancers”. Ahhh, they call them dancers, ok. Surely we are about to see the swimming. I don’t know why but for some reason I am hell-bent on seeing this show. Then I notice right behind the curtain is a row of showgirls with the big headdresses on. How are they going to swim in those? Then I notice they are topless. My mother-in-law rocks! LOL I turned to my girlfriend and say “I think we are at the wrong show” and motion to the girls. Right about this time the first girl in line reaches up and give her nipples are real nice hard pinch. Well, at least we know we are getting a top quality show. At this point I can’t WAIT to tell my mother in law about the show that she recommended. After boobapoloosa as we were leaving the hotel I asked the lady at the box office about the swimming show and she tells me that after nine o’clock Splash is a completely different show. Ya think!?
During the day on day six we do our thing. That night we are off to see Wayne Newton. Oh yeah, old school Vegas baby! Too bad Tom Jones wasn’t in town or we would have had the trifecta. The show was good but he really drove home that he was native American. He just happened to have mentioned it about 18,374,296 times. Wayne, we got it buddy, ok, we got it. But the best part of the whole show was right before the show was over my buddy spills a full beer … right in his lap. I don’t know what was funnier, that he spilled it and was pissed because it was a full beer or because it look like he wet his pants. The greatest part is that there was no hiding it. So as we were leaving the theater, and being the smart ass that I am, I announce “Wow, you really enjoyed the show huh!” Which of course draws attention to him. Ahh, sweet payback for just a small portion of stuff he has done to me.
So we all go back to their hotel, let them change close and then to our hotel so that we could change clothes and hit our casino for a bit. Me and my boy get tired of waiting and just tell the girls that we will meet them downstairs in the casino and head to the elevators. As we are getting off of the elevator and making our way to the casino we see this woman walking towards the elevators. Right after we pass her my buddy says “dude, hooker”. No kidding monkey brains. What was your first clue? Was it the perfume that you could smell before we could see her, or was it crystal clear F me pumps, or quite possibly was it the wink she gave us, or maybe the see thru mini dress? Any of that stuff tip you off? Ray Charles could see that she was a hooker.
Some times I worry about that boy.
So we land in Vegas, get our baggage and make our way to the car rental place. I notice about two or three people ahead of us is a lady with three single digit aged children. When it is her turn at the desk she gives them all of her information and after a reasonable amount of time she is done and they tell her that her car is being pulled up front for her. Right about the time we get to the desk the lady comes back in and politely ask if she can speak to the rental agent for a second. Since she was nice about it and had three young children with her, I had no problem letting her go ahead of me. She politely tells the desk agent that she is going to need another car and that there is something wrong with the back seat of the one she got. The desk agent got an attitude with her and says “all of these people want their cars too” and motions to the line with her hand. This would be when the lady spoke up and said “You don’t understand, there is a jagged piece of metal sticking through the seat and into my sons back. I suggest you get me a different car now or I can call your corporate office and let them know about you and your service, what do you think about that?!” I don’t even know that woman but she made a tear come to my eye, I am so proud of her. She gets her car and shortly afterwards we get our car and are on our way.
It is about ten in the morning on a Sunday morning and we are on the strip making our way to the hotels when this woman who is way past hammered falls INTO traffic in front of us. I knew there was a lot of magic in Vegas but I am so glad I didn’t see the trick where this woman’s head gets turned into a pancake.
We drop off our friends and make our way to our hotel where a bellhop grabs our bags out of the trunk and a valet parks the car. Man I love Vegas. We get to the desk to check in when the girl behind the counter lets us know that our room is not ready yet. I was a little pissed but it was not a big deal. I asked her how long did she think it would be and she told me that they were cleaning it now and it might be twenty to thirty minutes. She also mentions that we could go check out the shops or the casinos. I ask her what are we supposed to do with our bags and she tells us that we can keep them in their secure room until our room is ready. Well off to the casino we go! About forty-five minutes later we come back to the desk and find out that the room isn’t ready yet. Back to shopping and the casino we go. After about thirty more minutes we go back to the desk and find out that the damn room still isn’t ready. Ok, this is BS. We go exploring some more and get back to the desk about a half hour later and the room still isn’t ready. This is when I asked them how long does it take to clean a room. This is when they realized that I had been there about two hours trying to check in. Well our room wasn’t ready but one of the upgraded suites was. Free upgrade, nice.
We get into our room and I call my buddy to see if they wanted to hit the strip. When we met up with them my buddies wife asked how our room was and we told them our little story and then we asked about theirs. My buddies wife shoots him a look so I know this is going to be good. She tells us that when they got into their room that it smelled like body order. So she tells my friend to go tell the front desk and see what they can do about it. He goes to the front desk and tells them that their room stinks and then heads to the casino for a drink. While he is gone the wife decides to take a bath. During her nice relaxing bath she hears the door to the room open and close. After a couple of seconds she calls out her husbands name, a few seconds later she hears the door open and close again. Again she calls out her husbands name and gets no response. She tells us that then she gets out of the bath, puts on a robe and heads out into the room to find that there was no one there. But she did notice that the room now smelled like someone walked around in the room spraying a bottle of Dakar cologne. Shortly after this my buddy gets back to his hotel room. His wife ask him if he came in and left again, to which he answers no then she ask him what the desk clerk said and he said “nothing”. He told her that the desk clerk said that they would send someone up to check it out. Of course she is pissed because he didn’t say anything to her about it and he don’t get why she is pissed.
The next day we all branch off into our own little groups and do our own thing during the day and meet up for a nice diner at night. Since we were there in July it was hot, dry hot or not, it was freaking hot. I believe it was 115 that day. There was even a news report where people were passing out while waiting in line to get into the Hoover Dam. So as we are going from hotel to hotel we develop quite a thirst. J Since I was doing the driving I had no alcohol and since my then girlfriend (now wife) was on vacation and I was driving she was getting her drink on. Long story, short version, in the course of the afternoon she has four forty-eight ounce mixed drinks. We get to diner and she is still conscious, woohoo! After we finish our meal the wives decide to go back to their rooms but the fellas wanted to ramble. So we take off and the girls go back to their rooms. We are just going from casino to casino. While we are in one casino my buddy is looking around like he is looking for someone, well he was. A waitress. He spots one and moves over to a slot machine that appears to be in her path. He sits down just about the time she is near and ask if he wants anything to drink. Of course he replies with “Yes” and give her is order. No sooner had she walked away that he stands up. A couple of minutes later he sits back down and the waitress brings him his drink. He takes a sip and says “thirty-five cents”. To which I reply with “what?” again he says “thirty-five cents, that’s how much this drink cost me”. Dude you really should be ashamed.
Several hours later, around four in the morning, we all come strolling back to our rooms where I find my wife, asleep in bed, well half of her was. She tried to get a bath when the booze kicked in and she could no longer stand. So she crawls to the bed and gets most of her torso onto the bed.
The next day comes and we are all hanging out doing our own thing. Later that night we are going into downtown Vegas to the Golden Nugget to see the Amazing Jonathan. That show was awesome! Totally worth it, if you get a chance go see him.
Day four and it is the same routine, we go and check out different things in the city, went to the dessert, gamble, shop and so on. That night we were going to eat at Emeril’s NOLA Steakhouse. Fantastic meal and we were served by the captain of the restaurant. That really was a nice treat. After that meal we go over to see Siegfried and Roy. I was a bit let down because the show started out really gay. Not that kind of gay, cheesy gay. Like one of their tricks they put a tiger in a cage, cover the cage with a cloth and from the other end of the stage they point at the cage. When the cloth drops the tiger is gone. How much did I pay for this bullshit? Anyway, after a while the show gets better, but the funny thing was when you order a drink from the waitress, they bring you two at a time. I am sure this is to save time and to keep from disturbing everyone going up and down the isles and so on. During the show, one of my buddies and his wife are sitting across the table from us. When the house lights come up after the show I see a Corona, a full Corona with the lime still in the top of the bottle at that. I jokingly motion to my buddy and say “free beer”. He does this yawn/stretch move and snatches the beer off of the table. I give him credit for the move when he begins to drink it. I don’t know what came over me but I busted out with “Dude! That guy could have been rubbing his pecker on that bottle!” Without missing a beat he says “Pecker taste gooooood”. Yeah, it took him a while to live that down.
Later that night, the better half and I decided to catch a show at like three o’clock in the morning, simply because you can do that in Vegas. On a recommendation from my now Mother-In-Law we went to see a synchronized swimming show called “Splash”. So we go to check it out. Time to set the scene for you, there is my girlfriend and myself and about 200 asian men in overcoats, in Vegas, in July. No other women there, hmmm, should this strike me as odd? NAH! So we get seated in what appears to have been the orchestra pit at one time. You know like right up front where the band would sit kind of thing. WTF? How am I going to be able to see a swimming show from this close up? Since we are in the pit there is this walk-way around us. For us to get to our seats they have to open this drawbridge thing on the walkway. Well I hope I don’t have to pee or anything since I am locked in now. So after a few minutes of sitting there confused, they start the show. It starts like a variety show with jugglers, a contortionist, a comic, and so on. Even had ice skaters. Where is the pool? I don’t get it, are they going to bring out a tank or something? Then comes the announcer, “Ladies (ladies? like plural?) and gentlemen , Splash After Dark proudly presents the Splash After Dark dancers”. Ahhh, they call them dancers, ok. Surely we are about to see the swimming. I don’t know why but for some reason I am hell-bent on seeing this show. Then I notice right behind the curtain is a row of showgirls with the big headdresses on. How are they going to swim in those? Then I notice they are topless. My mother-in-law rocks! LOL I turned to my girlfriend and say “I think we are at the wrong show” and motion to the girls. Right about this time the first girl in line reaches up and give her nipples are real nice hard pinch. Well, at least we know we are getting a top quality show. At this point I can’t WAIT to tell my mother in law about the show that she recommended. After boobapoloosa as we were leaving the hotel I asked the lady at the box office about the swimming show and she tells me that after nine o’clock Splash is a completely different show. Ya think!?
During the day on day six we do our thing. That night we are off to see Wayne Newton. Oh yeah, old school Vegas baby! Too bad Tom Jones wasn’t in town or we would have had the trifecta. The show was good but he really drove home that he was native American. He just happened to have mentioned it about 18,374,296 times. Wayne, we got it buddy, ok, we got it. But the best part of the whole show was right before the show was over my buddy spills a full beer … right in his lap. I don’t know what was funnier, that he spilled it and was pissed because it was a full beer or because it look like he wet his pants. The greatest part is that there was no hiding it. So as we were leaving the theater, and being the smart ass that I am, I announce “Wow, you really enjoyed the show huh!” Which of course draws attention to him. Ahh, sweet payback for just a small portion of stuff he has done to me.
So we all go back to their hotel, let them change close and then to our hotel so that we could change clothes and hit our casino for a bit. Me and my boy get tired of waiting and just tell the girls that we will meet them downstairs in the casino and head to the elevators. As we are getting off of the elevator and making our way to the casino we see this woman walking towards the elevators. Right after we pass her my buddy says “dude, hooker”. No kidding monkey brains. What was your first clue? Was it the perfume that you could smell before we could see her, or was it crystal clear F me pumps, or quite possibly was it the wink she gave us, or maybe the see thru mini dress? Any of that stuff tip you off? Ray Charles could see that she was a hooker.
Some times I worry about that boy.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Looking back, chapter 6
Remember getting a hotel room when you were in school and wanted to party but nobody was having one? And there were too many cops out? Oh like I am only one!
Yeah, those were good times. I can remember one time where this high class road side motel actually had a magic fingers bed. For some reason one of the guys with us REALLY wanted to lay on the bed while the magic fingers where on. I mean he was really adamant about it. So he drops a quarter in the box and nothing happens. He puts in another quarter and again nothing happens. Time to investigate why it is not working. Everyone knows that drinking and electricity mix oh so well. So here are eight to ten guys standing around a hotel room, drinking, with the lights and television on. Magic-fingers man finds the problem, the wires were cut and taped back together but has come apart again. So magic-fingers guy stands up and says "here is the problem" removes the tape and goes to reconnect the wires. It is at this time that there is this bright flash of light and a loud pop and everything in the room goes dark. From where I was standing I could see the silhouette of magic-fingers man. He says "oh shit" and hits the deck like we are being shot at. So this place is pitch black and we all start laughing and ask magic-fingers man why he dropped to the floor. A few minutes later the hotel manager knocks on the door and ask if everything is ok. Since we couldn't see the beer we weren't able to hide it. We tell him we are ok and he goes off to flip the breaker or something I guess. A couple of minutes later he comes back and ask us who all was staying in the room and so on. Then he asked us what happened. We told him that we wanted to see the magic fingers work then we noticed that the wires weren't connected. So he is going to fix it, apparently magic-fingers man had the wires crossed. The manager fixes it and the bed begins to work. He leaves and magic-fingers man gets his wish. So he is laying there and well, it got boring pretty quickly. But the bed just keeps going and going and going. It kept going so long that we got annoyed by it so we went to unplug it, but the plug was hot, real hot. Like to hot to touch hot. So we decided to just leave it alone. Magic-fingers man sits up and starts to rock back and forth like he is riding a mechanical bull. It is at this point that the bed breaks loose from the wall and begins to move around floor a bit. Kind of like the old electronic football games. Now this could be fun. A bunch of teenage boys drinking and riding a magic fingers bed around a hotel room. Oh man, that sounds real bad. Anyway we are all piled on the bed and shaking around a bit when it seems to be moving more than it has before. We are headed right for the TV. Haha, we are going to slowly crash into the TV. Hey, what is that burning smell? Oh shit! smoke is coming out from under the bed and the plastic on the plug cover is melting. Thankfully someone kicked the wires apart where they were taped together.
Looks like check out time is right about now!
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