Jubilee of Fuck You's

I'm actually in a good mood. I got off work early today because of the snow-slush storm, and by the time I got home I still had time for an hour of drinking that was technically on the clock. But it did suck carrying a case of Guinness and box of wine a half of a block through the snow. Anyway, this post is so titled for all of the drama and bullshit that goes on in the blogosphere. Overall, I like blogging... I started it because I figured my life and rantings were interesting enough to keep people entertained. I had friends on myspace tell me they liked hearing about my drunken shenanigans, and then I would write these crazy rantings on craigslist. The problem with this outlet was that myspace was private, thus unavailable to the unwashed masses. However with craigslist, I didnt get to quite take full credit for my posts and eventually they expired so I couldnt share my gems of awesomeness in a long term sense. I finally took everyone's advice and started a blog and I'm glad I did.

I'm not even quite sure where I was going with that. I've made an applicable post not too terribly long ago, and I'll finish this tangent by saying, dont forget why you started blogging or neglect your real life for the crazyness that happens on the intrawebs.

Now speaking of real lives, lets take a look at my dresser contents to figure out the real Tequila Mockingbird. I just noticed what a random mismatch it was, and thought since everyone else took artsy pics that illustrate their lives in some facet, so here's my attempt at it. In case you cant tell for sure what everything is, there is obviously my keys, my ipod, a guinness bottle cap, bracelets that one of Landon's bar chicks left here (hey, I'd prefer if they leave stuff as opposed to taking it!), handjob pink nailpolish I have on right now, Angel Innocent by Thierry Mugler (it's one of my fave perfumes, and what an ironic name!), some lipgloss, my flask, hair barrettes, my oriental rug bookmark, and pearls that I've had since I was 15 (I'll solidly stop wearing them when I hit 40, because then it just makes you look older). Not really sure what all this says about me. What would the top of your dresser say about you?

Ass Darts, Electric Fetus, & Mongolian Stir Fry

Ohhhh, good times were afoot this weekend! I could've been out drinking at the bartenders' ball tonight (some deal where only bartenders get tickets, and there's free leinenkugals and appetizers... a friend of mine had extra tickets), but tonight I needed some time to chill out and stay in (despite my affection for Leinies, and the shenanigans that would've probably ensued), since I hadn't since the wednesday before last. Even I can't manage to go 24/7.

Anyway, Friday Landon, Hart, his brother Jayson( HAPPY 27TH BIRTHDAY!) and I drank on top of their roof, and discussed physics and Marky Mark. Now, let me explain it wasnt an apartment building, this was the third story of their house. Anywhere else but Uptown, this wouldve been weird to see (and there was a decent amount of foot traffic). In Uptown, it seemed ordinary almost. From there we went to Williams, where Hart helped me with my darts. Why wouldnt a game involving drinking and something that can put an eye out be a good idea? They aren't as awesome when someone stabs you in the ass cheek with them either (seriously, WTF Landon?! I think my response of a kick answered any questions you had about whether that was a good idea or not). Calvin Crustitron who joined up with us later, was drunk enough to be chatting with a chubby who had a boyfriend. That unnegotiably = a double fail.

Saturday delicious Ghenghis Grill followed up by The Other Boelyn Girl, and a slushie(enhanced by my flask full of vodka). The movie was mediocre. I think part of my problem was that I went in expecting to see Natalie Portmans boobs. I'm not quite sure how I got the impression that's what would be in the movie, but I did. And when this didn't happen, combined with the weird rabbit trails the plot went off on, my experience was only salvaged by the quality of my company.

Today I went to the Electric Fetus, a sweet indie store that's full of records, incense, blasphemous products (like the nun chucks), Pirate bandaids, smoking paraphanlia, weird books, and this awesome car air freshner I picked up.

I had someone recently see me parallel park, and being from the suburbs was like: "YOU JUST HIT THAT CAR", and I was like "no, I nudged them to make sure my car was nice and snug in there. " when you live in the city, as long as you aren't blocking a driveway or a fire hydrant, it's time to be creative, whether that means parking on a snow drift, or moving the dumpster up a few inches.

Double the Happy Hours, Double the Fun

I didn’t really feel like working out this morning. Actually, I felt like vomiting, so much so I kept the trash can by the elliptical. But if you can make it through the first 150 calories, you’re usually good to go. I cant really say I’m surprised, two happy hours can lead to some unpleasantness in the morning. The first happy hour was with my office, which wasn’t bad at all. We all get along well when we are drinking and not being dicks to each other. It was like motherfucking magic!

From there I managed to have a whole hour and a half to myself (it’s actually a lot harder than you think to manage that sometimes) where I hit the bong, Guinness, and the elliptical to work off my beloved beer that’s so thick it’s like you need to chew it. Also, it is handy that my beer bottle fits in the cup holder of the elliptical… it’s like they were meant to be! Then my friend picked me up and we went to the Herkimer on the other side of Uptown. It’s not quite as awesome and trendy as the part that I live in (I blame the goddamn hippies that make it so bohemian filth-chic; go smoke your hookahs filled with flavored tobacco somewhere else).


Anyway, so I’m usually a fan of the Herkimer, because it IS awesome that they brew their own beer, make the best sweet potato fries, AND you can play shuffleboard (hey, it’s about time I learn… I’m getting old; I turn 24 in a week). But last night they were not making my vodka cran’s very stiff, so I figured I’d get a beer (hard to fuck that one up), and then I remembered, HOLY SHITCOCKS! they only serve their beer there. Not cool, but I cowboyed up and tried one of their lagers. Not too shabby. My friend was not amused with the place because our waitress with the nice cans was ignoring him and hitting on me. In her defense, I was rockin’ some cleavage of win last night. I think we managed to come out even because I stole a Herkimer glass to add to Landon and my collection of pilfered bar glasses. Too bad it wasn’t all the way empty and my new nine west purse now smells of beer.

I AM Mrs. Chuck FUCKING Norris

I'm sure you are aware of the facts surrounding Chuck Norris; if you arent, you should not only be horribly ashamed of yourself, but you should rectify the situation before He (yes, I capitalized it, just as if I was writing about a diety) finds out and delivers a roundhouse kick to your taint. Anyway, this guy, Ian Spector illustrated some of the most awesome facts about him. Check it:

Trying to outweird the weirdo

Because my screen name on yahoo looks slutty, I get some random weirdos trying to cyber me up. This morning I got one that was more unusual than the rest, so I figured I would make it a game to see if I could outweird him. Hillarity did ensue. I left his real screen name in, so feel free to instant message him for a chat!


(9:16:04 AM) panty_hose95: Hi!! Care to chat...m/ct
(9:19:17 AM) ME: hmm right...i'm not a cybering person, sooooo if that's your brand of good times, you'll probably be dissapointed
(9:19:57 AM) panty_hose95: not into cyber either
(9:20:26 AM) ME: then what
(9:20:40 AM) panty_hose95: lol....pantyhose...lol
(9:20:47 AM) ME: wtf.. what about it?
(9:20:53 AM) ME: got some weird fetish?
(9:21:10 AM) panty_hose95: lol..yea..long time fetish I guess
(9:21:26 AM) ME: fun, so do tell, what do you do with this fetish?
(9:23:12 AM) panty_hose95: Check out pics of ppl in hosiery...chat with em...wear em at times...lol
(9:24:55 AM) ME: and youre a dude, right? do you wear any other lady clothes?
(9:25:35 AM) panty_hose95: yea...heels and panties at times too...lol
(9:26:11 AM) ME: do you have a wife that plays along?
(9:26:34 AM) panty_hose95: no...g/f..doesn't like it
(9:26:44 AM) ME: hahahahah, i imagine not
(9:26:57 AM) ME: does she get pissed if you steal her panty hose and put a runner in them? id be pissed
(9:27:11 AM) panty_hose95: lol...no...I have my own
(9:27:46 AM) ME: well that's respectful of you; disrespetful sexual deviants suck!
(9:30:42 AM) ME: so do you like women to jack you off with pantyhose feet?
(9:31:06 AM) panty_hose95: mmmm...yea that would be great!
(9:31:17 AM) ME: what if they have snaggly toenails? or their feet smell rancid
(9:31:45 AM) panty_hose95: lol....no then!
(9:32:05 AM) ME: hmm, probably a good call, chief! so do you ever have them toe fuck you in teh ass?
(9:32:44 AM) panty_hose95: no
(9:32:50 AM) ME: hmm, maybe you might like it; you seem to be openminded... and if they were wearing pantyhose......
(9:33:29 AM) panty_hose95: maybe....would love a pair of your panties to enjoy ttho!
(9:33:42 AM) ME: i bet. hey, i know what youd like even more..
(9:34:03 AM) panty_hose95: what?
(9:35:10 AM) ME: someone with panty hose on their head coming up behind you and taking you by force; youd get a reach around, but i'm pretty sure there woudl be some anal penetration
(9:35:34 AM) panty_hose95: lol
(9:35:40 AM) ME: so, that's a yes?
(9:36:03 AM) panty_hose95: maybe
(9:36:11 AM) ME: interesting; what if someone was jacking you off with their foot and htey had athletes foot?
(9:36:48 AM) panty_hose95: no
(9:38:11 AM) ME: why not? sometiems it can be stealth. you dont notice it until the skin starts yellowing and peeling and itching.. it would probably suck if that happened to your penis
(9:38:27 AM) panty_hose95: lol
(9:39:08 AM) ME: is it hard to fit your balls into a thong?
(9:39:44 AM) panty_hose95: yea..at times
(9:40:04 AM) ME: k. do your shave your nuts? id think the hair poking through would snag the pantyhose
(9:40:30 AM) panty_hose95: lol...no
(9:40:58 AM) ME: how do you feel about donkey punches?
(9:41:26 AM) panty_hose95: what?
(9:41:35 AM) ME: you know, donkey punches. like if i was fucking you in the ass with a strap on and punched you in the face as you were about to cum
(9:41:58 AM) panty_hose95: no
(9:42:11 AM) ME: like a definite NO or like if i got you drunk enough youd be game for it
(9:42:45 AM) panty_hose95: no good
(9:43:01 AM) ME: how do you know until youve tried it. you might be surprised... a punch in the face when your cumming hard might be just what you need. i mean, you could wear your panty hose while i did it
(9:45:15 AM) ME: i'm taking your lack of answering for quiet contemplation of the hotness of that

The New Niggers

So, as I’m sure everyone’s noticed, we have a woman and a black man running for president. Most of America seems to accept this (at least on the surface… as of the last few decades, racists have been less outspoken, more like ninja bigots), and we seem to have progressed as a society. But what if it was a homosexual running for president? I know without a shadow of a doubt that the religious right would be up in arms, sputtering about how this isn’t what our forefathers would’ve wanted blah blah blah (and I’m sure those slave owning, wife beating sons of bitches are THRILLED about the candidates this year!!!)

It reminds me of the John Lennon song that he did with that filthy whore Yoko Ono, “Woman is the Nigger of the World”. He did it to show how women were being treated as second class citizens, in a subservient role, of course it was banned from being played because of the N-word. Homosexuals seem to be the new “nigger.” They don’t have equal rights like marriage, and still get discriminated against in their professional and private lives. Some feel the need to lead their sexual lives in private because of this, especially politicians. Frankly, I think it would be great to have a gay president. He would make recycling mandatory, spruce up the White House, and change the presidents march to something a little more snappy, possibly with “It’s Raining Men” mixed in. A homosexual president might actually put more time and attention into finding a cure for AIDS, instead of trying to prove his manhood by blowing up other countries.

Anyway, I leave you with this poster… if you had problems figuring out who to vote for, I’m sure this fucking clears it up. For me, it was the goddamn serifs and the fact he’s fucking my girlfriend and sister (shit, I didn’t even KNOW I had a sister!!!)

Props to Jesus, The Gays, And Varmints

My weekend didn’t actually go like planned, but if it had, I’m not sure it would’ve been as much of a blast. Friday I was still struggling with my cold, and figured I’d stay home with some Magner’s Irish hard apple cider. Halfway through the 6 pack, Calvin Crustitron excitedly calls, saying the cougar from our pub crawl last weekend texted him and we all needed to go out. Hart and his brother Jason further encouraged me to come out with them, and when Landon’s date tanked because it turned out she was larger than he thought, me going out was solidified. I finished the rest of my Magners while watching a documentary on prostitutes with Calvin and Landon until the happy hour specials started. It was a pretty typical night of drinking with the boys; Old Chicago, then to Stella’s for two-for-one’s, and finishing up at the Independent.

Saturday I managed to be productive, despite my decision to overcome my slight hangover by staying in bed for two hours and chonging down. Then the gays called to invite me over for turkey dinner (thanks for all your hard work making it Chelsea!), which was more for Shane’s birthday as opposed to Easter. Either way, root beer barrels, pink champagne, and Guiness added to the celebration. Part of the carrot cake got eaten by the dog, but we just cut off that section, re-frosted it, and popped some Easter egg candies in the side. Which reminds me, I’d like to give a big shout out to Jesus, for dying and all that jazz, because he made possible some delicious butterfinger eggs! As Jon from White Boys can dance says “Way to take one for the team, guy!”

I also found out a few awesome things at Saturday night's turkey dinner that I did not previously know:

• Degrassi rocks. Yes, it's for teens, but they have all kinds of scandelous shit going on that is HIGHLY entertaining.


• Nate gives great foot rubs. Ohhh those are some lucky bastards that get handy-j's from him, cause those fingers are MAGIC!


• Timmy is ferret sitting, so we played with them. HOOORAY for these little weasly varmints! Timmy would not let me give them Guinness though. *sighs*

Sunday Landon and I celebrated Easter in a somewhat untraditional way. I think it was acceptable to eat Chinese buffet because of the name of the place "Eastar Buffet"

They werent in such a celebratory mood there... they regarded us pale faces with much scorn, but that might have been because we were skimming the meat off all of the dishes. But hey, Fuck 'em if they cant take a joke!

What's Your Headline?

The other night over dinner, we were discussing sex and Landon said “Good sex smells like sweat, blood and poo.” Though I disagree (seriously Landon, WTF?), I told him he should use that for his match.com headline. That got us talking about what other headlines would be fantastic to have on there. Here’s what we came up with:

1. “I got bored with Porn”
2. “My wiener is crying, please soothe away the pain”
3. “When stalking just ISN’T enough”
4. “This is cheaper then a well-made blow up doll”
5. “Once you start shaving your ass crack, you don’t stop”
6. “The state says I’m fully rehabilitated”
7. “Want to see my stuffed animal collection?”
8. “Save me from being a sexual predator!!!”
9. “What foreign objects may I stuff into your holes?”
10. “How keen is your sense of smell?

Feel free to add your own. This is all for today folks; I have a cold that has reared up again (turns out binge drinking doesn’t help your immune system no matter how many vitamins you eat), and it’s snowing like gangbusters here. Have a good weekend celebrating the rising of our Lord and Savior.

If you aren’t sure how to celebrate, Calvin Crustitron and I came up with a Easter egg coloring drinking game. There’s a couple different ways it can be played (improvisation is your friend with this one I think); our game plan was for everyone to have a drink, and there would be a timer set for 5 min, and in that time you drink your drink and color your egg. If the timer goes off and you have not finished your drink, you must finish it immediately and take a shot (something colorful of course). We figure everyone will end up trashed, covered in vinegar smelling pastel colors before the dozen eggs are finished.

UPDATE: Harx has come up with a great way to commemorate that the Easter Bunny died for our sins and then rose again, to be able to lay multi colored chocolate filled eggs:

As far as Easter goes, I'll be celebrating with an Easter Beer Hunt. One person paints up cans of beer and hides them, then everyone goes looking. What you find is what is yours, the only rule is that you must drink the last beer before looking for another.Works best if you have a 12-to-1 beer-to-person ratio, but tell everyone it is only a 3-to-1 ratio

Beads, Booze, And Leprechauns!

St. Paddy's day itself was fairly sedate compared to the shenanigans of the weekend (although I did take Tues off, because I was like, who am I kidding?). I went to Keegan's in Dinkytown, which is an ueber cool place for all kinds of reasons including that the wood in their bar was carved in Ireland and shipped over. They also make the best corned beef sandwiches, which is perfect to soak up the Guinness and appletinis that came later. They had a mediocre Irish band playing, and girls did the riverdancing (too bad they weren't hot). I did see this awesome dude, with a jacket that had The Crow on it. It's so bizarre, it might just be bad ass.

So I finally compiled all of the pics from Saturday night. Thanks to everyone who sent them to me. Ok, so here is my wine fridge that sits in my living room (doesn't everyone have one of those??) filled with Guiness. It was sweet; our local liquor store gave us free t shirts and beads on Saturday. I love getting beads without flashing the goods.

This is me doing some quality pre-drinking before we left for the pub crawl, and the carnage of pints began.

Here I am with a wicked action shot. w00t!

This crazy broad was at Green Mill, already shitfaced at like 7ish. She shovedfeathers from her green feather boa into The Novice and Landon's jacket pockets. She was so potent smelling I think my eyes began to water

Here we are (The Novice, Landon, me, and Hart) at Liffeys. We are rockin' the festivity much like Luke Skywalker rocks the force.

Here's a dude I met (also at Liffeys). He was way short, but not technically a midget. In my Guiness infused rowdyness, I kept calling him a Leprechaun and threatening to thieve his pot of gold. But since I pressed my boobs against him, he was more than happy to take a picture with me. Hell, he probably wouldve wrestled me in lime jello.

I think we might be significantly more intoxicated in this picture. It's just a hunch.

I'm not even 100% sure what bar we are at here, but I'm 110% positive we were having a good time. I hope all of you had as good of a time this St Paddy's Day as I did!

The Gays, Peanut Wars, and Endless Guinness

To say this weekend was shamrockin’ would be an understatement. Friday I went to the Eagle, a fanfuckingtastic gay bar with my most favoritest homos. They honestly have the best drink specials, with three-for-one’s, which had me with one vodka cran in the crook of my right arm, one in my right hand and drinking one out of my left hand. They gays totally dig me because with my super-tallness, big curly red hair, and stellar rack I remind them of a drag queen, just without the man face or adam’s apple. So, after some raspberry kami’s I was sure enough dancing with my homo-tastic friends, which was all cool until my one friend unzipped my pants and pretended to give me some mouth-lovin’ but was really just blowing hot air on my cooch… the bartender was like “cut that shit out!”, but they have a healthy appreciation for me there, since I was one of the 5 females at the bar, and I wasn’t gross looking like the others.

Saturday, Landon and I paced ourselves (slow and steady wins the race!), not starting our pre-drinking until 5 (I’ll give Hart a lot of credit, when I talked to him at 5:30 he wasn’t even sure what bar in uptown he was at, yet he soldiered on through the entire night). The Novice was our designated driver (thanks again, cupcake!), to St Paul where we did our pub crawl. Honestly, I don’t remember all of the bars we went to, but they were all packed to the rafters. I remember McGoverns, because Calvin Crustitron was hitting on this cougar, and before we left, he gave her his phone number; the rest of the night he kept drunkenly yelling about wanting to “put it in that old whore’s butt!” Liffey’s was also legitimate good times, but beware of the rookie mistake of buying the bottle of Guinness when you can get a pint that is the same price but more booze. When I was double fisting my Guinness, I distinctly remember some dudes in green beards who were impressed with my ability to do this. I was, however, impaired enough where I had to stop texting people who were trying to figure out which bar I was at so they could meet up with us.


Eventually we made our way back into Uptown, stopping at the SoHo café for some pizza, where they were not enthusiastic with our raucous festiveness, despite the lack of belligerence (hey, we’re all good natured drunks!). This was just the fuel we needed to walk down to Williams for some green beer and free peanuts. That’s where we met random peanut guy. He was taking the free peanuts and throwing them in people’s drinks. When we realized this, we started throwing them in his, and then of course picking the peanuts out of our beer and throwing them at each other (they actually hurt if they hit you hard enough when they are wet). Normally, the staff would not look kindly upon peanut wars, but they were so busy, that was the least of their concerns.

We walked home after bar close, Landon and I arguing about who gets to sleep in the bath tub (makes clean up so much easier when you can just hose yourself off). I woke up with more beads than I started off with, my hair smelling of Guinness, peanuts down my shirt (probably my fault for having cleavage), and the NEED for much water. All indicators I did indeed have a good night.

I don’t have all of my pictures back yet, but I should by wednesday, and then I’ll post them.

Getting Geared The Fuck Up!

So as you very well know, i'm pretty UNDENIABLY Irish, so for me, St Patricks day is akin to Hanukah in that its not just one day/night.. it's like that whole '8 crazy nights' concept; I've even been listening to Irish punk music all week to get myself ready for the awesomeness that will be this weekend. Last year was pretty sweet too, and because I heart you all, I will repost from my myspace last year's adventures to tide you over until I am fully recovered from the most holiest of holidays:

Even though St Paddy’s day wasn’t until Saturday, I started Thurs night baking Sheppard’s pie and drinking appletinis at Sarah’s house. Friday night, four other people and I went to Kips, this Irish pub that’s attached to a Marriot and got some rooms. Many Irish car bombs later and after some killer Irish music, we realized the bar would be closing at 1. OH NO!!!! What to do?!? We certainly weren't going to be driving to a different bar; that was part of the purpose of getting a room... to ensure there would be no chance of a pesky DUI. So we queried of the bartender:"Chad, what can you do about this?" And he informed us that at 1:01 he could no longer serve us drinks, but that at 1:00 he could serve us each two drinks. At that moment, we knew we would be ok, with some double fisting action coming our way. That led me to my next favor to ask Chad the bartender (and possibly the oddest convo i'd ever had with someone)... "So hey would you bear my children for me?" and he gave me this look of confusion and responded with a "ummmmm...." so I thought I must need to clarify; "Chad, come on, you'd LOVE to have a bunch of curly red headed freckled spawn of mine running around, right?" he was starting to get that I just might be a little drunk.

Chad: "well I wasn’t planning on having children till I finished school, but for you I might make an exception."
Me: "thats good to hear Chad. dont worry I'll take care of you after I fistially inseminate you"
Chad: "wow, I didnt know that’s how you would impregnate me.. but I guess if you’re taking care of me and not going to leave me barefoot and pregnant in some trailer..."
Me: "youre a reasonable man Chad... I think you’ll made a good man-mom to our little bastards"

Saturday started out well, with not a hint of a hangover (I shouldn't have taken this as a license to get as shit housed as I did that day). Had lunch at Keegans, and Irish pub in Mpls. It was packed to the rafters because they are one of those places that serve REAL Irish food, not some defrosted shit from a plastic container I detest. About 4 appletinis in (hey theyre green...) I realized I should probably take a nap. I woke up feeling quite refreshed, ready for this party I had been psyched about all week. There was going to be a belly dancer there... (be still my heart). You wouldn’t think a belly dancer was apropos at a St. Paddy’s day party, but it was also the host's birthday, so why NOT have a belly dancer?


In hindsight I should’ve ate more than brie (it doesn’t really soak it up so awesomely). Also, I shouldn’t have started leaving my redbull mixer out of my mandarin absolut (three drinks in I thought it was a fanfuckingtastic idea). This guy, Dave, who I've known from other parties was there too, and for the longest time he had been trying to convince me that it would be SO impressive for a chick my age to drink scotchy mcscotch scotch . Before, I had never quite been able to stomach it. I'd like to say it was peer pressure, but no, I was just feeling gloriously festive. Then the belly dancer arrived.... I will admit to dancing with her (and allegedly making out with her). I remember needing to lean on people. I remember thinking I might have underestimated lunches' appletinis being gone from my system. I had also put entirely too much stock in how Irish I was and that I could drink all the vodka in russia and still be my usual charming self. I couldn’t figure out why my drink kept leaping out of my cup. Perhaps it was the luck o the Irish that I was taken home before I got too obnoxious. However, I spent the wee hours of Sunday morning on the bathroom floor. My tab had come due.

To Date A Mockingbird

As many of you know, I recently entered the dating scene again (AKA endless parade of douchebags), and after two months, I’ve encountered some bizarre and interesting shit, and it simply amazes me how many good looking people are bereft of personality. When did it become acceptable to use hotness as a crutch for being boring? Also, I’m definitely unique, but I don’t look weird so that tends to attract some cock-hooligans. Not everyone has been an assbag though, and I’ve actually had some positive experiences (for example, one date I played legos with the guy. No, not because he’s a pedophile, but we both dig legos and it seemed like a fun thing to do). Anyway, here is a list of requirements, “do’s” and “don’ts”. Yes, the list was generated from my dating experiences, and they should feel fucking lucky I don’t link their internet dating profiles and in one case a photography website.

1. You must have a job. I’m not a gold digger, but I’ll be damned if I’ll always be the one paying. Fucking get your shit together… this isn’t so much a requirement to succeed at datingas it is to succeed at life.
2. Don’t try to leave hickeys on my tits. Seriously, we aren’t 14, and it pisses me off when I cant sport cleavage for a week because you’re being possessive.
3. You must have a car. I’m not picking your ass up everywhere we go… Do I look like the guy from Driving Miss Daisy?
4. Don’t spill booze on me. It’s wasteful and then I smell like vodka on the way home, which isn’t cool if I got stopped by a cop.
5. Shut the fuck up about asking to meet Landon or any of my other guy friends. All you need to know is that I’m not banging them, so I’m not sure why you would want to hasten their scorn by meeting them; they are going to pretty much hate any guy that they think is trying to get in my pants.
6. Do not try to meet me in a coffee shop or a tea bar (why is it called a bar if they don’t serve booze? Fucking teasing bastards!). I don’t date non-drinkers in the first place.
7. Do not wear so much cologne my eyes burn. It makes me wonder what foul odor your trying to cover up.
8. If you hafta ask if we are dating, WE ARE NOT!
9. Warn me about your fucked up teeth. It’s partially my fault for going out with someone with only closed-mouth pics, but still, if they look like an old garden rake, give me a heads up.
10. Don’t have a beard. I probably don’t want to make out with you anyway, but definitely not if you have a beard. The only man in my life I want to have a beard is Chuck Norris.
11. And MOST IMPORTANTLY, don’t leave dirty condoms on your living room floor. This was by far the vilest thing that I ever encountered. I didn’t freak though, I asked “hey, so when’s the last time you had sex” and you responded “two weeks.” Now, I’m not sure what makes you more of a scum merchant, the fact you lied about something you totally didn’t need to lie about (it was our first date, I don’t care if you got laid yesterday) or that you had a dirty condom lying on your floor for 2 weeks. Either way, game over.

March's Douchebag of the Month

Yes, I know I’m a little late with this one, but I’ve been busy. Unfortunately, because I waited so long, it’s like dueling banjos of douchebaggery as to what to write about. I’ve even had bloggers nominate themselves for the award, but noooo it’s not about attention whoring. Anyway, so this month the award will be shared. First nomination is daylight savings time. Seriously, what the fuck, it’s not like we are all farmers anymore. I think we need to pick a time and stick with it. This morning when I woke up for work I felt like it was three am. And because I have been stricken with pink eye (guess that’s what I get for all of the skull fucking I’ve been engaging in), I couldn’t get one of my eyes open to check out the clock. As much as I hated the oozing puss coming out of my eye, I was more pissed off that it was time to get up than anything. Side note: Landon has threatened to put me in quarantine AND stop beating off into my eye when I sleep; I told him I hope he continues so that way his dick will seep just like my eye is. Really gets the ladies going!

The other douchebag that gets the award this month is the water treatment companies who hid that there is a metric ass ton of pharmaceuticals in our water. As awesome as it is that fish now have 4 hour boners, low cholesterol, and are happier, it is also turning female fish into males. I think I’m going to start drinking more spring water (because even bottled water isn’t all safe anymore; some companies just bottle tap water) so my chest doesn’t start sprouting hair and I don’t grow some nads (although, it would be super hot to be able to teabag people….)


I know that the pharmaceutical industry says it’s not a problem. And why would they have a reason to lie? To me, it seems they would be the very picture of honesty! But, if it’s not a big deal, then why do prescription drugs in waterways damage wildlife across the nation? At least if you’re going to douche people’s health over, give them a heads up, instead of being a ninja douchebag and having it sneak up on them. And hell, now that I know there’s pharmaceuticals in the water, I don’t feel such a need to go to the docs about my eye. I figure I’ll just splash some tap water on it, and either my eye will starting burning or the pink eye will clear up.

Got Wang?

I think I might be getting sick with a fucking cold. Staying out late last night drinking and singing Dio at Old Chicago's karaoke probably contributed. No matter what it was, I dont feel like doing a legitimate post today. But, I figured I should give you greedy sonsofbitches something, and this site that has the funniest IRC quotes EVER. I always knew something wasn't kosher about Harry Potter...


Purely in the interests of science, I have replaced the word "wand" with "wang" in the first Harry Potter Book
Let's see the results...
"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.
"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wang in half an' everything
A magic wang... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.
"Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wang. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wang for charm work."
"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wang. Eleven inches. " Harry took the wang. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wang above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls
"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wang, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"
The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wang had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.
He bent down and pulled his wang out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.
He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wang, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wang at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them.

I have found, definitive proof that J.K Rowling is a dirty DIRTY woman, making a fool of us all:
"Yes," Harry said, gripping his wang very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his mind on flying, but something else kept intruding.... Any second now, he might hear his mother again... but he shouldn't think that, or he would hear her again, and he didn't want to... or did he? O_______O
Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wang
Then, with a sigh, he raised his wang and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.
'Get - off - me!' Harry gasped. For a few seconds they struggled, Harry pulling at his uncles sausage-like fingers with his left hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his raised wang.

Handful of Random Stuff

I’m not quite sure what to think of this product. I am interested, but yet more than mildly disgusted. I am all for alcohol exploration (new and creative frontiers of boozing!), but to me, bacon vodka sounds like it might release a person from the shame and self recrimination of morning drinking. Maybe have it with a shot of cheese rum and some greasy hash browns to soak it up? This sets a bad precedent. I enjoy drinking, but even I don’t tie one on in the morning. Granted, a person COULD drink it later, but I can only handle so much bacon. Besides, WTF would you mix it with, because not everyone drinks their vodka straight. I’m thinking cranberry and bacon vodka would probably taste vile.


Something I definitely like (despite not drinking beer) is this shirt. Although, I’m fairly sure if I wore it out, I would get some random groping from gross people, which I wouldn’t dig. Maybe I would just need to wear it to a lesbian bar and hope that most of the other people there were hot.


And this has nothing to do with boozing (well maybe it does because alcohol might encourage it), but I was greatly amused by this poster. Thanks google trends for telling us about the trend history of ass-to-mouth vs anal fisting. How was 2006 for you?

This Will Be a Big Shocker, Folks...

As bloggers, we put ourselves out there to entertain and as a way to reach some sort of catharsis. However, when we open up our lives like we do, people who we never wanted to find the blog, can and sometimes do. For example, Lawyerman’s parents found mine and read the infamous chicken post (the comments were particularly harsh on that one too). It was not the cause of our dissolution, but it did not help a tense situation.

More recently, someone who didn’t know me very well came across the blog (I should probably stop mentioning my blog in passing; it turns out I’m the first hit when you google “douchebag of the month” DAAAAAAAMN YOU GOOOOGLE!), and I totally get how I must seem to someone who doesn’t know me… I look like a raging alchy. And I’m not, but I don’t post the average and boring daily activities I do, so readers only get to hear about my interesting shenanigans (that yes, frequently involve drinking).

So instead of talking about my drunken mini golfing at the Mall of America on Friday night or the burlesque show I attended in NE Minneapolis on Saturday (where I allegedly made out with one of the burlesque girls), I will instead tell of my not as exciting doings.

1. Landon and I went shopping for curtains to replace the Spanish whorehouse curtains (as much as I love random people walking past on the street to be able to see in and watch me doing the elliptical, I think it’s time for a change.
2. My coworker Calvin Crustitron and I are growing clovers we got for a dollar at Target. We’ve been thinking that since they are Irish, maybe they would grow better if we gave them some Guiness or Jamesons. But that sounds more like a home project than one for work.
3. I tried fried pickles for the first time on Saturday at Stella’s; yes, I know it sounds gross, but it was awesome, especially with some ranch dressing.
4. After living with me for a little over a month, Landon has found out exactly how much I shed. Because my hair too curly to brush, it tends to get everywhere. Even though I have never been anywhere near his balls, he said he found a long, curly reddish hair wrapped around his them in the shower. NICE!
5. I started reading Stephen Colbert’s “I am America and so Can You” when he was off the air to get my fix of his “truthiness”, and I’ll definitely recommend it to all of you.
6. I saw a play this weekend, “What’s Done In The Dark”. If it comes near you, check it out.
7. Landon and I are learning how to cook together. This weekend we made veggie beef soup, and it turned out fanfuckingtastic.

So there you have it folks, I’m not THAT off the reservation, and actually do somewhat regular things that do not include drinking. I feel better now, don’t you? I’m glad we had this conversation.