Little Shit From The Week/Peeing In The Sink

Bear with me on this one, just a bunch of little junk that popped up during the week.

True confession from a self-proclaimed male pig. As I was heading down the hallway when I caught a glimpse of a really hot ass in black dress pants going through the door to the stairway. Perfect opportunity, follow her up the stairs and try not to trip while I’m staring at this fine piece of equipment. But no, my lazy ass took the elevator, wasted opportunity.

I want to become a dump truck driver. They’re doing construction on the Marquette interchange and dump trucks are every where. Recently I noticed how the dump trucks operate. The part that I see is them stacked three deep, waiting 30 minutes to get filled up by the front end loader. 30 minutes of sitting in the cab with jeans and a t-shirt on, how rough can it be? I’m sure they get compensated fairly well too. If only my driving record was better…

Don’t they ever learn?

WASHINGTON (AP) - Former NBA player Lonny Baxter was arrested by uniformed Secret Service agents on Wednesday after shots were fired from a vehicle about two blocks from the White House (you couldn't pick a better location?). Baxter, who played with the Charlotte Bobcats last season, was taken into custody around 2:30 a.m. after a witness flagged down a Secret Service agent and reported shots fired from a white sport-utility vehicle, said Secret Service spokesman Eric Zahren. "There were spent shell casings in plain view inside the vehicle," Zahren said. Officers also recovered a handgun.

Pop’s response to this: “Is this illegal? They were just having a little fun. Gees, a guy can't do anything anymore without some uniforms jumping down his throat.”

A clip from Jason Mulgrew’s site:

(Side story: Back in college during my junior year, I met a girl in one of my English classes and we started to date. As we were leaving class one day, we ran into one of her friends in the hallway, a small, Asian guy I had recognized from another English class we shared. This was how our introduction went. I’ve changed his name to protect him from me:
Girl: “Dan, this is Tim. Tim, this is Dan.”
(Something feels weird as we shake hands.)
Me: “Whoa, what’s with the secret handshake?”
(Tim pulls up his extra long sleeves to reveal two deformed hands, each with only three fingers.)
WHAT’S WITH THE SECRET HANDSHAKE?!

Can’t imagine how embarrassing that would be.

Clip from the Power Ball website:

The $208.6 million jackpot offered on August 5, 2006 was won by a ticket sold at the Ma and Pa's Grocery Express in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. The prize has not yet been officially claimed, although there are press stories of a group of about 100 workers at a cheese factory (really, that is not just a Wisconsin joke).

And no, I did not add the "Wisconsin joke" part on there, they did.

I sent the following email to a girl this week. I asked her what she likes in movies, music, little crap like that just to get to know her. My response to her email goes like this:

Movies have to be comedies, although I recently saw "Love Song for Bobby Long" with John Travolta and Scarlette Johanson that is pretty much a drama but for half the movie they were either drunk or in the process of getting there, wonder why I liked it so much... Music, I'm kind of a freak, not that I listen to weird shit or anything, currently in the car I have Jay-Z's "The Black Album" (wish he'd make more), so it's rap on the way to work and on the way home. At work I listen to 102.9 all day long, I get my fill of old and new rock.

Oh, Friends, my sister has every episode on DVD, sometimes we'll sit there for eight straight hours and just watch that. I'm an MTV nut, too.

I've never rollerbladed, I'd hurt myself, I know. During lunch every day I go to Marquette to lift weights, I think it's the Rec Plex (her email address is from Marquette). I have to check out the hot college chics, you know, it's a guy thing. Actually, there's this woman who might be 40 who I've been chatting with in the weight room, but of course I'm too big of a pussy to see if she's available.

My average night will be doing something to the house (cleaning, mowing the lawn, masterbating, whatever), sitting on the deck with the laptop stealing the neighbors wireless signal, downing 16 shots of vodka with a little lemonade for flavor, and topping that off with 3 pitchers at the corner bar. As much as I joke I wish I was joking with those last lines.

Oh, and I like playing with little kids too, but only when they're naked. Ok, now that I just re-read that it isn't all that funny, actually a little gross, purge that from your memory. (she works with kids in some aspect)

New roommate and I have started making up a list of rules for the house, kind of like the one at the bar (rule #7 has been changed to “do not exchange bodily fluids with anyone named B”, they must have changed it after the Friday make out session). What we have so far:

1. No heels on the living room floor.
2. No peeps in the house.
3. No 20 minute showers (what the hell do women do in the shower for 20 minutes? I could whack off three times and still bathe myself in 20 minutes).
4. No ashing on the deck (I have a huge pail on the deck for cigs and people still miss).
5. No peeing in the kitchen sink.

Yes, that last one was me. Thursday night the ex-coworkers meet up at a place that has 10 wings for $2, damn good deal and damn good wings. I got the mild ones and within ten minutes my hair was wet from the sweat pouring out of my scalp. Plow through four pitchers of beer and I think it’s time to go. Ant says no and gets me another pitcher. Mind you this is after a day when I could only spend 20 minutes in the weight room as my heart and lungs were screaming at me for the shit I put them through the night before. And these weren’t your average pitchers, noticeable bigger than my corner bar ones. During the course of pitch #5 I had to deal with Ant relentlessly trying to get the roommate to take it up the butt and Ant’s friend pulling out his penis at the bar. Not just for a quick second, but for over a minute. With all that going on she managed to pick up 20 plastic cups to add to my fine china collection (there was a Bacardi rep at the bar and they had special cups for B’s and coke. She had a super ass and a great personality, combination you don’t find too often). We shake hands (even penis guy) and leave for my corner bar. My recollection of the 20 minutes I spent there is a little fuzzy, remember talking to the neighborhood gay guy and the suit maker, but not much else. End up paying the tab and taking half a pitcher home for some quality deck time.

Some time in the night I wake up and I need to pee (major understatement). I feel like all six pitchers of beer are trying to exit my body with the velocity of a garden hose at full throttle (while my penis is bigger than a garden hose, the pee pee hole certainly isn’t). First off, I can’t find the door to get out of my room. This puts me in panic mode as I just cleaned the carpets and don’t want to pee on them. And I know once it begins I’m not going to be able to shut it off. Visions of waking up to urine everywhere in my room and down my hallway flash through my head. I finally find the door but I can’t find the door to the bathroom (a whole five feet away). Frustrated I head to the kitchen where the new roommate finds me peeing in the sink. “Hi new roommate! I think I might have failed to mention this, but I pee in my sink on a regular basis, is that ok with you?” Seriously that was the first and only time (till next time) that I’ve peed in my sink. Great start to a three day weekend (I took Friday off, figured I needed to catch up on sleep as I closed the bar down on Sunday, Tuesday, and Wednesday). We’ll see what the weekend brings, helping move on Sunday and the only proper way to move someone is to do it while intoxicated, dulls the pain and agony.