Awake, But Not Quite Up To Par Yet...

Hope this weekend has been treating you sonsofbitches ok. Mine has been going splendidly. More on that tomorrow when I am not so terribly hungover. I know I haven't really acknowleged it, but thanks for all of the fanfuckingtastic awards I've been receiving. It really validates my raging narcissism. I know I'm supposed to pass some of them on, but I probably won't because I dont feel tool-ish enough yet. No worries, I'll get there. So thanks R.E.H., Just Sayin', Hungry Mother, Matt-Man, BuzzardBilly, Quixotic Hierophant, Angryman and anyone else I might have left out. If you people REALLY wanted to please me, you would get me a toothbrush like this:

The Most Bizarre Convo Ever

I'm feeling a little hungover this morning, and my cell smells like $3 margaritas and has salt all over it, so I'll post a conversation an old friend and I had (dude, sorry; I held off on posting this as long as I could. Hey, at least I protected your identity.)

(10:23:43)HIM: there is one other thing that intrigues me although i have never personally tried it out...
(10:25:20) ME: what intrigues you
(10:25:39) HIM: heh your gonna think i am a weird reprobate and cease to speak to me :) (10:26:03) ME: just tell me, christ, i've probably heard it anyway
(10:26:18) HIM: Transexual women who have chosen to not complete the procedure. From all external signs they are women in thought and appeareance and yet they continue to have the original genitalia
(10:26:35) ME: i see. I can honestly say I didn’t see that coming.
(10:26:52) HIM: well transexuals in general but the male to female far outnumber the female to male
(10:28:46) HIM: hence the recent change in how such people like to refer to themselves as intersexual or some other term because they have chosen to be somehow both
(10:29:35) ME: so you want a tranny, to what, fuck you in the ass?HARD?
(10:29:51) HIM: heh, it would be an interesting experience i admit that
(10:30:15) HIM: has it never crossed your mind, what it would be like? ?
(10:31:00)ME: no it has never crossed my mind
(10:31:10) ME: i like guys to fuck me hard, and I like chicks.
(10:31:16) ME: but i do not want them combined
(10:32:19) HIM: i have heard some male to female transexuals still identify as bisexual and enjoy sex with women unlike the stereotype that they are just gay guys in drag
(10:32:40) HIM: ...with tits
(10:34:04) HIM: i guess i am glad to be just a run of the mill guy who likes to fuck chicks, and on a rare occaision feel the desire to have a guy ...
(10:34:24) ME: i dont know how run of the mill that is. Seems a little fuckered up
(10:34:32)HIM: heh i mean by comparison
(10:35:14) HIM: i think like you i prefer relationships with women because it makes sense to me but guys hold no interest for me in that regard
(10:35:33) ME: but they hold interest to you, in the way of them fucking you in the ass (10:35:42) HIM: if i had to say anything i would say I am like 90% into chicks and 10% into guys
(10:35:57) HIM: only under very specific circumstances
(10:36:03) ME: why dont you just have a fat man with boobs fuck you in the ass?
(10:36:13) HIM: hehehehe eww gross
(10:36:36)ME: ok, so THATS gross, but trannys are cool?
(10:37:18) HIM: no i think its cuz they look like women completely from the external except for just the genitalia which is usually hidden and its gone beyond being simply a drag queen (10:37:33) ME: wow, you’ve thought about this a lot.

(10:37:40) HIM: they actually feel like they are women ....not gay men
(10:38:09)HIM: or at least mostly female since some have kept the original equipment as it were
(10:39:28) HIM: if you had come across a hypothetically beautiful case would you consider it ? since you do like the female form and you do like to have a guy fuck you
(10:40:09) ME: NO! I WOULD NOT LET A TRANNY FUCK ME
(10:40:28) ME: ive told you, i love to get some dick, and love chicks bodies, but i do not want to combine those. it's like, i love eating lasagna and masterbating, but i dont want to combine the two.
(10:40:59) HIM: thats fine okay ... I didnt expect the strength of reaction just now
(10:41:26) HIM: I was just supposing... not suggesting you go to the nearest drag queen bar and get it on :)
(10:42:35) HIM: and personally neither would I ....just because i find it interesting doesnt mean i have an attraction to it on a personal level...
(10:42:59) ME: have you been with a tranny? how else would you know what it feels like (10:43:04) HIM: i just think alot about odd shit like that to try and figure it out why some people are the way they are , and why others are so completely different, but I haven’t. (10:43:12) ME: you think about it a lot, how much is a lot? Like every waking second? (10:43:24) HIM: i dont mean alot about trannys i mean all sorts of things
(10:43:33) ME: i see, so there's more? ok I’m tapping out of the convo.

Move it or Lose it

Yesterday I had the distinct displeasure of moving. In general, this is not a fun task, but it was worsened by the fact it had been a warmer 40 degrees during the weekend, so the snow had melted, and then Tuesday it was 30 below, so that froze up to make a slippery spots of bust-your-ass-death on the sidewalks. I guess this is why people don’t move in the winter; in Fla this was never an issue. But, as Calvin Crustitron says, moving is like having sex for money; it sucks bad for a half hour, but then it’s over.

Despite me moving on the worst day of the year, this was a good thing. I had been sharing an apartment with randoms from craigslist, and it wasn’t a big deal because I was never around. But once my situation changed with Lawyerman, it actually mattered, and I found out what scum merchants I was living with. For example, I’m pretty sure the obese gay man I live with was peeing on the shower curtain; it sure as hell smelled like it. At the same time my situation changed, The Novice was going to be moving out of the apartment he and Landon shared, so I offered to take the room.


Luckily, I was only moving from one end of Uptown to the next (and actually, a better part, within walking distance to more bars), still this required a truck. After a desperate search, Calvin Crustitron had a friend who had one AND would help me move (I accused Landon of purposely being out of town on business so he wouldn’t be forced to participate). Still not anticipating the move in the frigid cold (we even had some arctic wind action), I cowboyed up, took two shots of ketel one and put on my long johns. Calvin’s friend was built like a spider monkey, sort of short but with a ton of upper body strength, formerly in the navy. Awesomely enough, Calvin’s friend not only works for the price of a bottle of Captain Morgan, but he’s also my neighbor and will be throwing a party this weekend. We are hoping to hook up Landon with one of the girls that lives in his house. Not only did I get help moving, but I gained a new drinking buddy.

The operation was overall successful, no thanks to the douchebag in my building who stole my (umm, well actually Landon’s) large can of mushrooms we were using to prop the door open. I hope that assbag gets botchelism. Also, I figured out why it was so fucking cold in the apartment on Monday. The Novice left the windows open. Dude, what the fuck? But at least he left us with his Spanish whorehouse curtains. Christ, I don’t know what we would’ve done without those.

Buffet of Ignorance

Discrimination is one of the lamest forms of douchebaggery. While reading the MN Atheist newsletter, I came across a story about the owner of Q.Cumbers Restaurant losing business because he was an atheist. I decided to check out this place to see if maybe there wasn’t other reasons why he lost people’s business. It was not your typical buffet; with a 50 foot salad bar, and signs all over the place that said “no preservatives” or “no msg” and many vegetarian friendly dishes, it was not only healthy but delFUCKINlicious. Q.Cumber’s totally took the fatass factor out of buffet dining, with no fried food, and replacing ice cream with frozen yogurt. The “no waste” signs are also a fantastic idea, reminding people not to be greedy bastards, and only get what they are going to actually eat.


About the only way I would stop patronizing a food establishment is if I found pubes in their food or found out there was cat meat in my low mein. But to stop eating at a place simply because of the owner’s religious preferences is just asstarded. Unless those religious preferences include sacrificing babies or not washing their hands after using the bathroom, there is no excuse. And this owner of the restaurant, Mickey McCabe, is actually a nice guy. The second time I went there, he was there bussing tables, which is more the norm for a small diner, however this is a much larger place, where you wouldn’t expect to see that . I talked to him, told him I read the article about him. He was a very down to earth guy and he stopped what he was doing to talk to me for about 10 minutes. He said he had been receiving a bit of hate mail since the story.

It’s sad when people are so wrapped up in religion (or the lack thereof) that they can’t enjoy good, healthy food. Maybe they deserve the greasy, artery clogging, bland food of Old Country Buffet as punishment for their ignorance. I know most of you who read this aren’t from Minnesota, but if you do happen to stop into town, check Q.Cumbers out.


On a lighter note, today is Calvin Crustitron’s 24th birthday. I owe you a beer, you whacky sonofabitch.

I'm Cripplicious Baby!

This weekend was chock full of some surprise hilarity. Keeping in mind I had been drinking throughout the movie Cloverfield beforehand (those people who bitch about the movie making them motion sick need to STFU, because I saw it while intoxicated and felt just dandy), and then before going to the bar we did some more pre-drinking, the 4 block walk to Old Chicago was certainly a drunken one. Awesomely enough, we saw a crutch in the trash; I’m still curious about the back story… did someone drink enough they didn’t feel the pain anymore? Did someone get mad and take someone else’s crutch away? Were they just using it to get pity from bar whores and it wasn’t as effective as they thought? Ohhhh the possibilities! Of course I decide to take it out of the trash and comically hobble around with it, screaming and moaning about how I hurt my leg in ‘Nam.


Notice the look of pain upon my face. Eventually that wasn’t as funny, and I had been hobbling for close to a block now. I’m like “fuck this!” and lean my crutch against the passenger window of an SUV. About that time Landon notices that there’s a guy in the driver side of the SUV who doesn’t look real amused. We both are like “OHHHHH SHIT, RUNNNNNNNN!!!” luckily Old Chicago was super close. I can only imagine what people watching thought about it. Chick on a crutch, leans crutch against car, then starts running.

I almost wish the crutch had still been around when we were trying to walk back. I had so much I thought I might pass out in the booth. Landon, being the understanding douche he is was like “DRINK IT!!! DON’T WASTE BOOZE…” of course I somehow managed. Fortunately, the waiter we had that night has a thing for me, so he makes our personal pizza slightly wrong so then we get a free one.

One last thing to add from this weekend; saw this painted on top of the hood of a Saturn. WTF? a blue llama?

Darwinism as it Relates to Meth Addicts

While walking from home to various bars, I encounter meth heads from time to time. It can be -17 degrees, and there’s some meth head that is wild-eyed and looking not just warm, but downright toasty, begging for money. Despite the poison they put into their bodies, they still persevere, going without sleep for days and needing no sustenance; hell, if you can cook it up in a bathroom, why wouldn’t it be a healthy to ingest? Anyway, this got me to thinking, what if we isolated meth heads on an island?

Yes, I understand this is not the line of thinking most people have when coming into contact with meth heads, but then again I don’t exactly think like average people. Back to my original idea, if we put together a colony of meth-heads (what, it’s not like they were being productive members of society anyway… well, except for the truck drivers), I think some serious Darwinism would occur. After 10 generations, they would probably develop into beaver-like creatures, all of their other teeth falling out except the front ones, and develop super jaws from grinding their teeth. Instead of wood, they would build their dams out of light bulbs and old pipes.


Other animals and even humans have adapted to fit their surroundings, based upon their needs, which makes me think meth heads could evolve to be more like beavers. My main point is, with the way meth heads will give up everything to have their precious meth, what makes anyone think that they would stop just because they are on an island?

What I Will Admit To

I’ll admit we started pre-drinking with a box of wine (hey, the two dollar rails at Old Chicago didn’t start until 10). I’ll admit that even though it was more expensive than Franzia (it was totally top-shelf!!!), it is still wine in a box and therefore NOT CLASSY. I’ll admit we pre-drank more than we should have because we were walking. I’ll admit right away, karaoke is not my friend (there are many things I do very well, singing is NOT one of them).


ll admit that there are different kinds of people who do karaoke. There is the drunken frat boys that sing hilarious songs to entertain their friends (last night, my favorite was the “humpty hump”). There is the fat girl singing love songs to her gay best friend. I’ll admit that even sadder than that, is the people who arrive at 6 and drink diet coke all night, hoping that some record producer will see them and offer them a 7 million dollar contract. The people who run karaoke at Old Chicago are those kind, singing with their whole hearts, to drown out the pain of failure.

I’ll admit to heckling the guy who looked like he had F.B.A. that sang “Total Eclipse of the Heart”, but not the hot chick singing “Let’s Give Them Something To Talk About” (oh, and did I want to give her something to talk about!!). I’ll admit that I let Landon talk me into signing up to sing, even though I have NO business singing anywhere but in the car (and even then sometimes I need to crank up the volume so I can’t hear myself). I’ll admit that by the time they got to me, I was solidly wasted (hey, it was like an hour and two drinks more). I’ll admit that my choice in song was horrible, and I chose it because Calvin Crustitron and I had heard it on the way to lunch earlier that day and it was stuck in my head (I should’ve went with DIO, because at least I could scream it and sound moderately better). I’ll admit I was not surprised when Landon reneged on coming up there to be my backup dancer. I’ll admit that partially through the song I’m like “ok, I’m not singing this part” and kept to the chorus.

I’ll admit to not feeling so well this morning. I’ll admit to not looking as hot at work. I’ll admit to wearing cleavage to offset my ickyness. I’ll admit that I will probably still sing karaoke again.

Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginnings End

This weekend stuff ended with Lawyerman. I almost didn’t mention it, because I like to keep personal shit that isn't amusing out of the blog, but I think I would be remiss in not saying something. It was overall the best for everyone, but even so, when these things happen, it’s not all lollipops and rainbows. Some people deal with it by listening to Shania Twain and diving headfirst into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Instead, I planned to go to the monster truck rally, get drunk and scream at the loud trucks. Despite living in the south until I was 21, I had never been to one. Unfortunately, Calvin Crustitron’s second job got in the way, which was a bit of a bummer, because I knew going to a place where having all of your real teeth and a high school diploma was not average would have totally cheered me up.


Instead, I went to Renegades with my friend Amy, Tonya and Angie. Our friend’s band, Undone, was playing there (they are about to do a 17 state tour, so if they come near you, SEE THEM!). Even if I didn’t personally know the guys, I would still listen to their music because they write it themselves and it’s entirely quality. We hung out at the merch table, and I tried to convince their manager Dave that he should totally manage me, but I ONLY sing Lynyrd Skynyrd after bar close at Denny’s; he said he was up for the challenge.

Radomly, Professor Beer, Milfgasm and some other people I know from their parties showed up after their wine party. Neither of us knew the other would be there, so it was a definite pleasant surprise. One of the best things Renegades has going for it, is it has this regular that is a crazy dancer. And I don’t mean just a bad dancer, but like Woodstock-too-much-acid-swinging-her-hair-around-dancer. That night she hadn’t been dancing, but instead rubbing her ass on some old biker, so Milfgasm and co took it upon them to drag her out on the dance floor so she could entertain the rest of us.

Granted, it wasn’t monster trucks and mullets, but dancing with friends (and a weird old hippy) and seeing the boys from Undone was just what I needed. Oh, and welcome back Billy, one of the owners of Renegades… You were in Boston too long!

Rock n Roll Hootchie Koo

I have some weekend shenanigans I could post about, but honestly, I’m a little too drained to do get into that until tomorrow. So, I’ll do what I usually do when I get like this, and do a meme. It’s the junk food of blogging. Anyway, Preposterous Ponderings had an interesting meme about making your very own album cover, here are the specifics if you legitimately want to do the meme.

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3 The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/ Thethird picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together.

We've already established that I am indeed lazy, and especially so today because it's colder than Old Man Winter's scrote, and I am slightly hungover. Also, thanks to Eric I have no need to make a cover, because this is perfect.

Coming to a Job Fair Near You!!

Like many people, I have a legitimate job. However, as I was looking at this, and thinking how much I didn’t want to actually work today, I thought maybe I should consider changing professions. One in particular that interests me (because of the likelihood of making much money with minimal work) is Snake Oil Salesmen. And with the intrawebs and infomercials, I could be much more effective with my peddling of useless crap.

The key is making people think they NEEEEEED it. This product does a perfect job of that, convincing dumb bastards if they buy it, they won’t die during germ warfare. And because it’s from Sam’s Club, you can buy a pack of 20, so that will totally make it actually effective. Folks, if there is legitimate germ warfare, I have some bad news, a UV light wand won’t save you; it will just make you look like some wizardy douchebag.


One of the biggest secrets of the Snake Oil sales is quantity. Billy Mays, that bearded asshole that yells at you about cleaning products, knows this. Granted, two of shit is still shit, he will scream at you, like a televangelist on PCP, that if you call RIGHT NOW he will throw in FREE OF CHARGE a third bottle of super-bleach. But I think, other than the free-shit-with-your-purchase concept, he also employs white trash guilt, implying your house can’t possibly be clean since you don’t have his products. I have no qualms guilting people into buying my snake oil.


Going along with that same line of thought, convincing people that their life can be completely changed by a product will make it sell like crazy. The Secret is a prime example of this. Do you have a crappy job, sleep alone at night and get treated like ass by everyone? Well if you THINK strong enough thoughts, you can attract real events to change. I have a strong thought that this is bullshit; it must make it so. Weight loss drugs employ the same concept. No magic beans will peel off the weight, do some cardio and eat some fucking salads.

Naming is also important when selling a worthless product. One of my favorites is Nads (fuck, I was shocked nads.com wasn't already taken for a gay porn site). Now, like most people when I hear the word “nads” I think testicles. This shit is green and removes your unwanted hair. I had a friend in high school who used this snake oil, and not only did the majority of her hair not come off of her bikini area, but her cooch had all of these red angry bumps that looked much like The Herp. That’s hot. I don’t want those kind of nads anywhere near my crotch.

For more snake oil action, go here.