Saturday, September 30, 2006

On The Prowl Again

Yes, yours truley ended up making out with another broad at the bar last night. Vanessa, 21 yr old Mount Mary college student. May I remind you, I am 29 and I may or may not look that old. So, for me, making out with a 21 yr old is like a major confidence builder, kind of like having sex with an 18 yr old when I was 24 (shhh, don't tell anyone, she's related to an ex-coworker). Not that I need it, it will probably just give me a big head, but still, it's nice. You all take care and have a good Saturday.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

In The News Today...

Anna Nicole Smith’s kid, does this come as a surprise?

Toxicology tests showed Daniel Smith had methadone, Zoloft and Lexapro in his system when he died Sept. 10 in a hospital room in the Bahamas where his former Playboy playmate mother was recuperating from giving birth to a daughter, according to Cyril Wecht.

If my death notice has “toxicology”, “methadone”, “Zoloft”, “Lexapro”, “Playbory playmate mother”, or “giving birth” in it please don’t bother going to the funeral and just leave my body in my mobile trailer. Another headline I read: Autopsy Reveals That Anna Nicole Smith's Son Is Dead.

Congrats to Terrance Kiel, San Diego Chargers safety who is getting started on his post playing days career of selling drugs. Out and about on $150,000 bail, AP - Kiel was arrested on two counts of transporting a controlled substance and three counts of possession for sale of a controlled substance. Drug Enforcement Administration officials said Wednesday that Kiel admitted to shipping at least two parcels of prescription cough syrup to Texas. While Kiel did not tell the DEA his motive, the agency in Texas has found widespread abuse of codeine-based cough syrup mixed with soft drinks or drugs and referred to as "lean," said John S. Fernandes, the special agent in charge of the San Diego office. Both officials said Kiel admitted to financial difficulties when interviewed by agents. Kiel is making $500,000 this year, his fourth with the Chargers.

How much of this is way too wrong? First off, prescription cough syrup, are you fucking kidding me? But then I read this - Fernandes said codeine-based cough syrup can be used to enhance, mitigate or temper other drugs, including cocaine and PCP. Ok, so this stuff might be in demand, who knows. But who the hell is going to mix it with a soft drink? “Uh, can I get a Coke, lean.” Cough syrup tastes like shit as it is. If you want a buzz go smoke a Newport (nasty cig). And financial difficulties? I don’t make $500,000 a year but I just had the hairdresser take me for $200 last night in a dice game and it’s not going to drive me to the street selling drugs (embarrassing, a hairdresser). $500,000 and it’s his fourth year so you have to assume he was making roughly that the first three years. I’m guessing he was trying to live like T.O. with the Escalades and million dollar homes and couldn’t keep up with the payments. But then again, I heard T.O. has dabbled with drugs too (“I didn’t try to kill myself!”). And check this out, Kiel won the Ed Block Courage Award in 2004 (who the hell is Ed Block?). Nice, how long before they take that off their website?

In other news, yahoo personal girl stopped by the bar last night for a couple hours. Totally cool, very hot, but I will remind you, she isn’t looking for a date, just friends. We talked non-stop for the whole time, well, I guess she did most of the talking, but it still went well. And true to her yahoo profile, she was indeed 5’10” and quite thin (very nice ass). When she left the ex roommate gave me a little shit, “What, you didn’t go show her the house?” I’ve used that line a couple of times, worked on one occasion and when we got to the bedrooms I was trying to think of a clever line to get her in bed only to find the woman stripping her clothes off behind me, no line needed (now that I think of it, she talked dirty in bed, like “fuck me with your big cock” dirty). Of course she never came over again and I felt kind of used (but that’s totally ok, I’m a hoe). So yahoo personal girl and I might go to the driving range or something this week, not sure what the schedule is for the rest of the week. I’ll be sure to take the spot behind her to reacquaint myself with her ass (it truly was that nice). And hey, if she just wants to be friends it doesn’t mean we can’t do the nasty, right?

I’m afraid I’m going to have to change the roommate’s name. Since she has been writing on and on about not getting enough sex and I don’t put out enough (dude, we’re not dating, what the hell? just masturbate every day like I do) and posting naked pictures of me screwing her teddy bear (I was drunk, come on, everyone screws their roommate’s teddy bear when they’re drunk) on her blog I think a name change is appropriate. The roommate’s naming progression:
1) Asian
2) Angry Asian
3) Roommate
4) Renter
I figure renter is just a slight downgrade from roommate but after the crap she’s been posting I think it’s deserving. Speaking of which, it’s almost the 1st of the month, rent is almost due, you know what that means. BEER MONEY!!! How depressing would it be to pay someone $400 a month only to see him spend it all on beer? Yes I am an asshole sometimes, but at least I'm a somewhat funny maybe not asshole.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Saints And High Maintenance Hoes

Sunday, 3:40 pm and my phone rings. It’s volleyball girl. She wants me to play volleyball at 6:45. I’ve been drinking since 11:00, no I can’t play. I told her this before and she still pretty much demanded that I join as a substitute. I’m guessing she couldn’t get a whole team together and was relying on me to play. Fat chance. Maybe I’ll do it once, need a little practice before Cancun this fall.
Volleyball girl, for some reason she told K that she had been sleeping with K’s boyfriend for over a year now. I haven’t talked to the boyfriend or K yet but I’m still trying to figure out why someone would do this. VB girl is 23, K is 40 and married, BYOB is 44, so it’s not like VB girl is trying to get BYOB all to herself (you wouldn’t think at least). Women, I’ll never understand them so I’ve chosen to give up trying to understand them.

Congratulations to the New Orleans Saints for their win at the refurbished Superdome. Not that I was actually rooting for them or anything, but they had an exciting game with a blocked field goal (poor Mort) and a blocked punt that was returned for a touchdown. The combo package of Deuce and Reggie looks like it could be very effective with a little more practice.

Oh, I spoke with yahoo personal girl/woman today. She emailed me saying she had “windshield time.” Guess that’s her way of saying she’s in the car driving around. So I called her and holy fuck that girl can talk. She talked as much as I do when I’m loaded. During our 20 minute conversation she drove over a curb, told me in depth about her job, and for some odd reason spotted a Marty’s Pizza truck in the drive through of a McDonalds (I know at least one person who will find that funny, trust me). So she’s going trap shooting (scary) after work tomorrow and might swing by the corner bar. While it will be nice to meet her, I know she isn’t looking to actually date (does that mean I can’t slip it in?) and I know the reaction I’m going to get from the bar. Another guy brought in a broad last week Wednesday and everyone was giving her advice on what and what not to do. Man, I have so many not so pleasant but still funny stories about me up there I’m a little worried. “Did B tell you about the time he passed out and hit his head on the door and the bartender swung his legs out so he was all the way out the door?” “Did B tell you about the time the short mixed girl pushed him into the garbage can when he was wasted because he told everyone at the bar she gave him head in the parking lot?” Hey, I didn’t tell, the bartender saw me in her car and didn’t see her head. “Did B tell you about…” Dude, it’s going to go on forever.

Other than that I did the dreaded yard work this evening, raked the leaves (huge black maple), mowed the lawn, pulled some weeds. Oh, it was a blast. Now I’m trying to copy porn off my computer on to CD so I can wipe my computer clean and reload Windows but man, this shits taking forever. Not that I have a shit load of porn on it (well, maybe I do, but I haven’t actually downloaded anything in years, honest), but these 20 minute video clips are sapping my time and strength (this time with my pants on!). Starting to think about just zapping the whole porn collection but that would be just wrong. For the first time ever my no hassle hoes have become high maintenance.

Monday, September 25, 2006


Ok, I must apologize for the last posting. I’ve had a couple complaints from people in the comment section and even several phone calls. Sorry if you were eating when you saw the pictures in question. But I was really proud of it and wanted to show the world my great talent. Swandad left his comment about being speechless and I stumbled across one of his entries from 2005.

Another highlight: The constant boob-grabbing/exposing that seemed to take place. Now while I am not at liberty to say who was grabbing what and who was exposing what; I can say that I was speechless. And it takes a lot to render me speechless. Must have been something in the beer.

So my turd (why does Microsoft Office not recognize “turd”?) is on the same level of an exposed breast in a semi-public setting? SWEET!!! And, as was the case in Swandad’s post, there must have been something in the beer (of maybe it just was the beer). I’m sorry for publishing what I though was a great achievement, a milestone in life if you will. I was a little sad that I had to flush it but since it was sticking out of the water it was starting to smell a bit. But, I am happy to report that I have been contacted by two video producers who insist that I can make millions making movies for them in the gay porn industry. They reason I can handle even the largest of penises if that big brown turd came out of my ass. Hmmm, let me think that one over…

Saturday night was my first night of being the official doorman at the local old people show lounge. I went out in the morning and got a black collard short sleeved shirt to go with my black pants and washed/dried it to shrink it just a little. The band was pretty good, people were dancing and the night went by smoothly without any incidents (even with me being slightly intoxicated). The crowd was old as usual (I was the youngest by at least 15 years) and they were dancing on the dance floor. There was a woman I had never seen before in attendance. She was pretty for her age and had a pretty nice body. She sat right next to me as her friend had to cancel and she didn’t want to sit alone (sure). So we got to talking a little bit, I honestly do not remember what we talked about, but the fact that she had a daughter that was exactly my age was a little disturbing. How old was this woman? And then I found out she had a son who was older. Oh boy, but of course that didn’t stop me and I continued to flirt. I was actually a little disappointed when she got up and left.

Sunday football had me up at the bar at 11:00 right when they opened. I had planned on grabbing some food right away but scratched that idea out as the first two glasses of beer had me feeling a little funny and I kinda liked it. They were having free food at halftime (1:30) so I figured I could make it that long. Halftime came and left, two heaping plates of spaghetti and meatballs later and I was feeling a little better, but not much. 6:15, seven pitchers of beer later and I was done. I passed out/slept for twelve hours without waking up till the roommate’s alarm went off (and kept going off every ten minutes for a whole hour, bitch). You would think I’d be refreshed or something but that’s not the case.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

My Great Accomplishment

After watching the Badger game at the parents house I went home to let the roommate in the house (what’s with women losing their keys?). Knowing something wasn’t right with my system I politely asked the roommate if she had to use the bathroom. At first she hesitated but I convinced her to go. As soon as she got out I ran in only to find the toilet paper missing. The roommate had hidden it somewhere but I wasn’t about to look for it as I was already clenching my cheeks in order to hold whatever it was needing to get out of my body. So I waddled to the closet with my pants around my ankles, grabbed a roll and plunked my ass down on the toilet. Almost immediately this monster turd shoots out of my ass. I took a look down to see what happened and I was like wow, that’s pretty impressive. I yelled to the roommate “You should see this sucker” to which she replied “Take a picture.” I had her go in my room and grab my camera. Pants around my ankles, I stood up and took this photo. But wait, I wasn’t done. Over the next ten minutes I grunted and groaned, sweating my ass off with each push. Here is the end result. The part that is brighter than the rest is sticking out of the water. You might notice that there isn’t any toilet paper in the toilet. Yes, I took these pictures without wiping my ass as TP in the photo would have certainly covered up my masterpiece. The roommate started to gag when I showed her the pictures. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my entire life. Seriously, how can you shit that much at one time. Do you do this every day?” Yes my friends, I do this every day, maybe not to this extreme but more or less so. I know, I’m a sick fucker for putting this on the internet. The roommate won’t be happy when I frame it and hang it in the living room.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Volleyball/Baseball/Second Job

I got an email from a female friend today. She twisted my arm (and actually offered sex) to get me to sign up for a volleyball league with her and one of my neighbors. She emailed me the schedule this morning and the first thing I see is “Adult Competitive Volleyball.” We’re going to get killed. My 44 yr old neighbor isn’t the most athletic of individuals and the friend who signed me up has the vertical leaping ability of Jack Sikma. And what’s worse is it’s on Sunday nights, a fall volleyball league on Sunday nights. Hasn’t anyone heard of Sunday football? Or maybe everyone else watches football games without getting totally annihilated and passing out at 8:30 (oh, just heard on the radio some place has all you can drink beer during Packer games but I didn’t catch the price).

Went to the Brewers game on Thursday, first one I went to this year (free tickets!!!). We had nosebleed seats so we just looked for a spot that wasn’t crowded and spread out with our feet hanging over the chairs in front of us (they don’t build stadiums for 6’4” people, or airplanes for that matter). Got there fashionably late (end of third) and caught a pretty exciting fifth inning when the Brewers scored five runs (watching the Friday game now, end of first and they have five runs and have gone through the rotation already). It was a pretty good time and even though I’m not a huge baseball fan I’m thinking of doing it again.Oh, almost forgot, the guy who works the door at the old folks club is quitting and the manager offered the job to me (everybody loves me!). So from now on I have to be mostly sober on Saturdays as I'm supposed to work the door at 9:00. Now, you might not think that it's worth $40 to ruin a perfect weekend night, but it's not just $40. It's really more like $80 as I'll be saving the $40 I'd be spending in the sports bar. $80 times four Saturdays a month and I'm up $320 every month, sweet! Wish me luck.

The bar has been pretty quiet lately so I don’t have much for funny stories. I’m shutting the computer off right now to go get loaded. Peace.

Absolutely Nothing

But in the northwestern coastal village of Point Hope, 125 miles north of the Arctic Circle, Molly Stone's family is using the money to catch up on utility bills and an account at the village store as well as other necessities. Some large families pool dividend checks to buy big ticket items, she said.
"It's pretty hard to stay afloat around here, except for people with lots of kids. Then they can get a vehicle or take a trip," said Stone, city clerk in the community of 700. "I might buy myself a new outfit, but we really need a new alternator for our car. We have to jump-start it every day. And if there's enough left over, we could use a new windshield.]]

Yo, are people that poor in Alaska? I don't get it .

I have absolutely no idea why I posted that.
My best feature is my face and body. The things I usually do on weekends are is going to nice lounges and dinner and sometime clubs. My closest friends describe me as a fun and funny person to handout with. I would best describe my lifestyle as a Hot Transexual.

Guess I should have analyzed the picture a little closer and read his comments before I whacked off to his picture. Does this make me gay?

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Slap That Ass!!!

46 yr old Morten Anderson is back in the NFL. The Atlanta Falcons previous kicker was 2 for 8 on field goals this year (horrible), most from inside 40 yards (even more horrible). Old Morty should get them through the uprights. The spread on Falcons games just moved 3 points (kidding on that one, but I’m still over-analyzing the next Giants game). Actually, the game that has me stumped is the injured Bengals and the scored-zero-points-on-Monday-night-football Steelers. Any thoughts?

Another story from Monday. After chatting with the 38 year old and ribbing the bartender for most of the night I was in a really good/giddy mood. She left and I was left to finish my pitcher while karaoke was starting up (painful). I closed my tab, downed my last glass and headed for the door. The Asian roommate left shortly before I did and was 20 steps ahead of me. “Race you to the door!” I was surprised at how fast the Asian roommate could run, I couldn’t catch her, but then again she was sober. (Lesson to note: don’t fuck with Asians, they’re pretty fucking quick.) She kicked my ass going in the back door while I fumbled with my keys at the front door. But while running home I heard some guy say “Dude, are you ok?” in a not so friendly manner. Turns out it was a friend of the girl who’s ass I smacked on the way out the door. On the way out of the bar I noticed an ex-girlfriend’s roommate standing right by the door. We really don’t know each other too well but I had the Asian ask her if I could get a BJ (turned down, fuck) and have given her shit on many occasions. She’s short, pretty cute, and has a nice small round ass. So I gave her ass a soft backhand and headed out the door not thinking anything more. By the time the guy was yelling at me the roommate was out of sight behind the house and it was just me running at full tilt down the sidewalk. I can only imagine that this guy has seen me before (I’m only there every day), probably knows my name or knows of me, and now thinks I just did a slap and run on his girlfriend’s/female friend’s ass. Great. I received a text message from the ex-girlfriend the next day (by the way who’s wireless internet connection is labeled “Big Titty” network, and yes they’re fucking huge) saying that her roommate was offended that I backhanded her ass as I walked out the door. My first thought is you’ve gotta be kidding me. My Financial Advisor vividly remembers a night downtown when the ex-roommate was dancing with some broad with his hands firmly planted on her ass (actually he wasn’t dancing, wasn’t even moving, just had his hand and eyes fixated on her ass). D, you might want to elaborate in the comment section as you witnessed it. I wasn’t on the floor as I’m tall and I’m white, D is only 5’10” so he can dance a little (he always says he’s 6’ but for some reason he can’t shoot a layup without me smacking it into the stands). Anyway, she went on about how N doesn’t know me well and thought it was very inappropriate. My response to that is whatever, she knows of me and probably even reads the shit I write on this stupid website, getting a slight tap on the ass from me shouldn’t come as a surprise to her. I mean hey, it’s not like I slapped her with my penis or anything (I think I woke the roommate up one time doing that, but I’m not quite sure). I didn’t go palms first and squeeze the shit out of her ass (don’t you hate it when people write “no pun intended” or crap like that?), I didn’t lovingly caress and rub her ass (at least not physically, but I did picture it next to my head as I fell asleep that night). What happened to the days of wedgies and purple nurples? That’s the shit I grew up with in grade school, and since I haven’t matured much since then I’m still in that mode (well I did go to college and stuff, but aren’t wedgies still funny?). But then I realized why she was upset. Next time I see her I’ll inform her that IT’S FOOTBALL SEASON!!!

Anyone else think Len Pasquarelli (ESPN commentator) and Vincent “Don Vito” Margera (of Viva La Bam) are the same person?

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Rape And The 38 Yr Old (Not Related)

She did it again last night and I don’t know who to go to. I’m totally embarrassed and confused by the whole ordeal. The angry Asian roommate raped me again last night. 1:00 this morning I groggily wake up to the click-click-click of handcuffs sliding on to my wrists. I takes me awhile to come out of my self induced intoxicated comma to realize that I was now chained to my bed with no hope of getting up and out of bed. Then I feel this warm sensation on my genitals and see the roommate applying the warming lube and feverishly stroking my penis in order to get it erect. I do my best to think of something disgusting and gross but it doesn’t work, within 30 seconds I’m standing at full mast. Within no time she is on top of me, riding me like she’s a jockey in the Kentucky Derby.

Ok, none of that was true, and it was starting to gross me out writing about my penis and sex, but hopefully it got the roommate’s blood pressure up in a fit of rage for a couple of minutes. Ha, ha, roommate, that’s twice now! (the garden hose in the shower thing wasn’t real either, but her dumping cold water on me was, bitch)

You have to check out this posting by Swandad from May 5th of last year. It starts off a little slow (not that I’m criticizing!) but your jaw will drop at the end.

Last night I met a very attractive 38 yr old woman at the bar who we’ll call C, not to hide her real name, but because I only have “C” typed in my cell phone as I didn’t want to futz with the phone at the bar and for the life of me I can’t remember what her real name was. Anyways, attractive 38 yr old who just moved back from New Jersey to be with her ailing mother. I walked in the door, all the choice seats were taken so I stood by the door and talked with the bartender for a while. After surveying the situation and observe her talking to the bartender I decide to go sit in the spot between her and G the hairdresser. “You’re not going to bite if I sit here, are you?” She laughs as just 20 minutes before she had an old guy snap at her for smoking a cigarette (yo, this is Wisconsin, not NY). For an hour the two of us have a hilarious who-can-make-fun-of-who-more conversation with the bartender. Everything from him suggesting we’re together and I’m the pillow biter to me offering to have a sex change and donate my penis to him but him not knowing what to do with something that size (sometimes it was a little disturbing with several references to the movie Deliverance). The bartender points out the “Don’t exchange fluids with anyone named B” sign on the wall and says he’ll bet that she’s in my bed by halftime of the football game. I down play this and try to just be my normal self which seems to work, as the music gets louder she’s leaning in closer and closer. She says she sees right through me, that I’m not looking for a real girlfriend and that my maturity level hasn’t exactly caught up with my 29 years of existence. Uh, see right through me? By being my normal self and telling you some stupid stories about shit I’ve done I’m trying to come off as a 29 yr old who acts like a 35 yr old? I guess she was just a little loony, but still cute. The end of the night came with a disappointing kiss (come on, all the older women put out, and the one I sit next to doesn’t). Maybe I’ll call her, maybe not.

As if not getting laid by a 38 yr old wasn’t enough, someone in the weight room called me B today and not Big Bad Brian. Now what the fuck am I going to do? I’ve been living this fantasy for two weeks now, Big Bad Brian is an animal in the weight room (except for when he’s hung over), making women wet just by walking in the door. College girls purposely stretch and workout in positions where their crotches/ass cheeks are partially visible from my general vicinity. I don’t want to go back to Pussy Boy B, struggling with the 25 lb dumb bells, laboring over the simplest exercises such as standing up. Chicks give Pussy Boy B that look that says “Damn, you’re a pathetic weakling in the weight room, what the fuck are you sweating so much for? And since you stayed out till 1:00 last night the bags under your eyes make you look old. Come to think of it, my tight ass and boob package is only 19 years old, you’re a whole decade older than me. Can you still even get it up?” On a serious note, I keep track of what body part I do on each day and recently included the number of pushups I do on chest days (since the shoulder isn’t 100% yet). In the past seven days I have done 900 pushups. The sad part is, in the last seven days, I have had more than 900 ounces of beer (that’s 75 12 ouncers). 75 in a week is an average of 11 a night and on the average night that’s just in the first 2.5 hours of me being out. On football Sunday alone I went through 7 pitchers (new personal record!) which is roughly 31 glasses. That might explain why I fell out of bed during sex and now walk with a limp.

Speaking of weight rooms, didn’t this ugly mother fucker used to be skinny as a rail?

Monday, September 18, 2006

Weekend Party And Sunday Football

Beautiful weekend! Friday was pretty tame (at least from what I remember). Saturday was the old roommate’s surprise birthday party. I know, birthday parties are for 11 year olds and they’re supposed to be held at a skating rink or some pizza place with a six foot tall singing rat (fucker used to scare me), but this was his 30th so it was sorta special. The organizers managed to get about 30 people there, everyone from a bartender or two from the corner pub to his mom and dad to his grandmother. And somehow they managed to keep it a surprise as he truly did not know when he walked in the door to see 30 people waiting for his arrival. Somehow I even played a role in keeping it a surprise (even though you’d think my loose lips would have wrecked it). After he greeted his family members he points a finger at me and says “What happened to golfing?!” I just smiled and shook his hand having no idea about what he was talking about. Later I found out that on one loaded night or another I asked him if he wanted to go golfing on Saturday. I think I was just double checking to make sure he didn’t have plans and that the party would work out as planned, I don’t know. So 2:15 J calls him saying she’s locked out of her house and she’s sitting on the front step. 2:30 and 30 sweaty people are still waiting for him even though he’s less than five minutes away (the boy is constantly late, good thing he doesn’t ovulate). Finally he arrives and we’re back outside pounding cans of Miller Lite and some new flavor of Doctors that tastes like cherry soda (even grandma did one!). I have some pictures but they're too big to post on here and I have to figure out a way to get their file size down.

Saturday night at the bar didn’t last long. After drinking since 2:00 yours truly was pretty well into it. But there were a couple hotties in the bar worth mentioning. I couldn’t take my eyes off the one on the right (again, once I figure it out I'll post the pictures), absolutely cute. Being a woman allows the Asian roommate access to super human abilities that I will never acquire. She grabs my camera, tells them she’s making a collage, and takes two pictures of them. Little do they know that I will be feverishly whacking off to them in the near future. And I mean this in the nicest way. If I didn't whack off to your picture you must be some ugly pig so I'm actually paying you a tribute.

Sunday football was just as grand as last Sunday. While the Packers lost they did manage to put some points on the board. And to be honest with you, I don’t even remember what the second game we watched was. But I was constantly searching for score updates (wink), and thank you Cincinnati Bengals for winning by more than ten points! The roommate and I won the first quarter pool but didn’t win any after that. At 8:00 I had had enough, paid my awesomely low bar tab (I think she thought I was running the football pool and I was helping somewhat I guess), and went home for the great slumber (great slumber’s are defined as more than 10 consecutive hours of sleep). Except I didn’t exactly go right to bed. I figured since it was still early I’d inquire if the roommate wanted to have a 6’4 215lb white guy on top of her. Today I am walking around with a limp as during sex this 6’4” 215lb white guy fell out of bed and landed painfully on his kneecap. I wish I could have gotten that on film because I don’t know how someone falls out of bed when they are on top of some broad. The world may never know. But I’m sure it will happen again, I’ll take notes when it does.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Our Madame X And A Painful Pee

I’ve been reading Swandad’s blog for a number of hours now, starting from the beginning and working my way up (sorry, only up to April 23, 2005). Like Third and Long’s one time customer of the week Madame X who sits and laughs or cried to herself as she watches TV and drags men home after making out for 15 minutes, our corner bar has one too. I usually don’t use real names, but this one needs it, not to identify her but because it’s that big of a deal. Sarah. Sarah only comes in on karaoke nights and usually arrives quite early as I think her dad drops her off. Last night was no different. I entered the bar around 8:30 and there she was in her usual seat in front of the TV. 8:30 and her eyes were already getting a little droopy. Asian and I (wait, think she gets offended by that, maybe I should change it to Korean just to be correct) watch a couple friends play pool till two bar stools open up. Me with the longer legs beat the Asian to the bar and take the seat on the end (ok, fine, I actually gave her an elbow and shoulder, but this seat was important). The roommate is stuck sitting next to Sarah and informs me I'm a bitch for making her sit there. After half an hour there I go to use the bathroom. Upon my return the roommate said she made Sarah cry. I guess Sarah was using “Jew” in a derogatory manner and then backed that up with the fact that she’s taking a Holocaust course. Don’t ask me how those two go together but the angry Asian got her to cry at some point. So I figure I might get in on some of the action if she’s in this delicate state. “Sarah, are you about ready to ditch this place and go back to my house for some lovin’?” Oh did I get the scowl. “Come on, I’ll even buy you a pitcher of beer.” She looks away in disgust. “I’ll even let you put my gerbil up my ass.” Really, I don’t have a gerbil. I keep a completely straight face but the roommate can’t and heads out the door. That was pretty much the end of the conversation. Later she was seen dancing in her seat to some gay ass song, mouthing the lyrics like she was a rock star. I give her shit every time I see her and she still says hi when I walk in the door, I don’t get it.

At one point I looked at the roommate and said “For some reason it hurts when I pee.” She gets this blank dumbfounded look on her face that lasts five seconds. “Do I need to go get tested?” she asks me. “No, I know what the problem is. It’s the sunflower seeds.” Another look of wonderment from her and I go on to explain. “You know how I’ve been digging the sunflower seeds at work (really addicting too) and how they make me smoke and eat less. Well, after three weeks my system couldn’t take it anymore. Constantly having a mouthful of salt has affected my urinary track. In the mornings I pee like a champion, all the way up to lunch time. After lunch I bust out the sunflower seeds and much away for four hours. By the time I get home I’m in agony when it comes to taking a leak (which really makes masturbating and shooting a load quite interesting, little pain, little pleasure). Drinking five pitchers of beer every night (how much would that cost me in NY? I think I’d go broke) makes me scream and shout in the bathroom as gallons of fluids pass through me at an alarming rate. But again, by the morning everything’s back to normal.” Again she looks at me with this “is that possible” look and the conversation changes to something else. What baffles me is my system can handle five pitchers of beer every night but a bag of sunflower seeds makes me writhe in agony? I don’t’ get it but that is what my observation is. And of course today do you think I stayed away from the sunflower seeds? Hell no, but I did consume them at a less rapid pace (I was up to a handful every three minutes, today I took self imposed penalty breaks). This evening I am peeing at a reduced pain level (I know you all are relieved). By Sunday I’ll be back to 100% as I don’t eat them on the weekends. I’m thinking next week I’ll just stick to the cigarettes and pee/masturbate pain free.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Golden Shower (As In Memorable)

A few days ago I was taking a shower after a long day at work and a rather sweaty gym experience. I hop in the shower and a couple seconds later I hear the Asian roommate, “I just have to pee.” I think nothing of it and continue with my shower when a gallon of cold water is dumped on my head. First off, it might be a funny prank, but only if you’re not on the receiving end of it. Second, I don’t know how she did it as she stands five feet tall and the toilet isn’t close enough to the shower to stand on and dump water on her unsuspecting slum lord. Must be some Asian trick or something. I didn’t say anything about it to her but I did get her back (oh wait, I think what started it all was me yelling “Get the fuck out of there” as she was leaving the bathroom. Seriously, we really do have a good relationship. Well, maybe not after what’s coming up).

But I got her back. Luckily she takes 20 minute showers (what the fuck do they do in there) as I needed a little bit of time to set it up. As soon as she got in the shower I ran outside and fumbled with the garden hose (technically lawn watering and car washing hose as what 29 yr old single guy has a garden?). I screwed the car washing nozzle on and turned the water on full blast. Going through the back door, through the kitchen, through the living room, down the hall, and finally into the bathroom dragging the hose behind me (glad I bought the 150 ft hose), I suddenly hear the water stop. What the fuck, that was only three minutes. I’m going to be caught red handed with a hose in my hand when she steps out of the shower. But then I remembered her slum lord roommate makes her turn the shower off while she shaves her legs and cooch (see August 7th’s post for more on bald beavers). My plan is still alive. She turned the water back on and I went in for the kill. Water nozzle in hand I stuck my arm in the shower, aimed in the general direction, and let her rip. I can honestly say I’ve never heard her yell so loud. Not that she’s quiet by nature, but she lets out a scream and then “B you fucker! Stop! I’m going to fucking kill you!” After 30 seconds (no, really just 5 seconds, I’m not that mean) I shut the water off and hightailed it out of there. I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to hang around the house with a very angry Asian woman running around so I went to the corner bar seeking shelter and safety (well, and beer). I haven’t seen any retaliation yet but I’m keeping my eye out and sleeping with one eye open.

If you didn't know, her blog is linked as "Slant Eyed Asian" on this blog.

I received a comment on the last post from a guy in New York saying that he was going to link my blog to his.

Dude- Came across your blog the other week and I have to say...YOU ROCK! I'm going to add your link to my page; why? Because you're worthy, that's why.

Keep up the hijinx!


Holy shit, I never knew I rock. I used to think I rocked in bed but you have to coerce some woman back to your place in order to rock in bed and that hasn’t happened in a while (really haven’t been trying that hard). Last year I passed out standing up and rocked my head on (guess what) a rock. That wasn’t pretty, big scab on my face that was explained by a lay-up gone bad on the basketball court (some dude fouled me and I still tried to make the shot, took one for the team). I’m sure when I’m old, like 50, I’ll be rocking away in my rocking chair. But I never thought a guy who works with numbers all day could actually rock by writing down the shit that goes on in his life (also known as The Great Downward Spiral, not to be confused with Taking The Plunge as in getting married). I mean, no one’s ever said “Yo B, your financial statements really rocked today.” And thank goodness I can do this from the comfort of my home. Recently after speaking in front of 60 people I had a friend tell me “You really don’t like speaking in front of big groups do you?” What, the sweat running down my hands and showing through my suit wasn’t a good enough indication? So now I’m going to go to the corner bar and declare my Rock Star status (is that going a little too far?) Oh, by the way, you really should check out his blog, tons of pictures, looks almost like my corner bar only better. If I ever make the trip to New York I will definitely stop in an eight hour Sunday session of football and beer. And Swandad, thanks much man, your comments were greatly appreciated and thanks for linking me. Peace.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Yahoo Personal

So if Yahoo Personals sends you an email saying you have a new message and to click “here”, why the fuck do you still have to log in with your username and password? It was in YOUR fucking email inbox!!! And even worse, I’m actually quite depressed now, very, some womanemailed me and it’s going to cost me $25 to subscribe and email her back. Here’s her email.

Oh my god - you're hillarious! I laughed through most of your profile!
How funny! So hey, yeah - lets have one or two beers - I am a big wings girl too - I do like the blue cheese over the ranch BUT will eat the ranch and certainly NOT complain. I DO NOT smoke. I say it like that only because I quite (after 20 years), on July 15th. I go out and have had others with me that smoked but I don't think I could resist if I was at home, on the couch watching TV......I mention this cuz I don't want to smoke again. Then again it's not like I'm looking for to get married here - just hang out. Be buddies and hey, if something more comes from it great - if not, that's good too.

I don't work out, at least not at the gym. I look for ways to stay in shape and so far it's worked so i'm not about to change anything. I am a HUGE fan of burgers - and the greesy ones are the best. I even like McDonalds Double Cheeseburger - plain with pickles; then again I guess that's not really plain now is it. Anyway - I am not a sports buff but REALLY like hanging out and watching football, having a few bloody mary's and a nice blackened chicken sandwich. Oh with extra mayo! Ohhhh, and the brewery chips at water street brewery are my absolute fav!
I am right at this very moment having a berry weiss. This past weekend I even induldged in a few pabst! Yes, that's correct - i drank a pabst. Actually I drank a few! Why you may ask - well, because I like it. I know, I know - but my top joe smoe beer is Pabst, then i like Corona (sp?), and then the berry weiss. I work by the airport and there is a bar out that way (no not the strip club), I think it's called the Landmark. They have a Cherry beer, oh and a cider beer too. Those are very taisty!

For my job I take clients charter fishing, skeet and trap shooting (yes, I know - "are you kidding" with your eyes wide while you're reading this), lots of golf, pheasant hunting (there's those eyes again)! I can take a client out and do just about any activity there is. I'm looking for a client that I can take horseback riding since it is my favorite pass-time activity.

Well -looks like we both ramble. Hey - I'm shooting you a note here because you made me laugh. Usually I can only make myself laugh - at myself - cuz i'm kinda funny like that. :) But you did good B! Yup, I think I may have even chuckled out loud! OOOOHHHHHH - I know, it's a big deal! Don't you ever wonder how someone else will be reading what you write - do they take it out of the context in which you are typing it and saying it in your head? LOL.

Uh - okay then. Yeah - well, here I go - signing off! Holy crap - it's midnight! eeks - will be a long day tomorrow!


So she’s cute, pretty thin, drinks beer and loves McDonalds. I am seriously considering paying $25 for the one month subscription just to meet this woman. But $25? I can get stupid drunk at the corner bar for $25 (not that I ever have). I can feed a kid in Ethiopia for a month with $25 (according to the commercials, who knows what they’re feeding them). I can put that $25 on a football game and win $23 (won’t be on the Packers, but I don’t have a problem betting against them). I can buy 16 bags of sunflower seeds (232 ounces) that would last me well over a month. Funny thing is I don’t have a problem putting a $25 chip on the blackjack table (or two of them stacked together, have to stay away from that). So that being said I should just pay it and email her back, see what happens from it. I’ll pay the $25 and send some lame email like “Hey, nice to hear from you. I liked your profile and wouldn’t mind hooking up for some porn star sex and chicken wings. You’re going to have to drive to my corner bar as I don’t drive after drinking. You won’t have to either as my bed is fairly comfortable with only a few lumps and I have ear plugs on hand for when I start snoring. Oh, and don’t mind the Asian roommate, she might peek her head in the door while we’re having sex but she’s just observing and fingering herself under her nightgown. In the morning I will mow the lawn right outside the window and wake you up for Sunday football. Sitting at the corner bar, please don’t egg on the overly horny bartender (who will smell your seat after we leave) or mind the evil looks the Asian roommate gives you (she’ll still be jealous about the sex you got 12 hours ago). After four pitchers of beer I will be silly funny, after six pitchers we might have to have some more sloppy drunken sex after which I will pass out for eleven hours till my alarm clock wakes me up to go to work. If any of this interests you at all please call me at 1-800-PLEASE-FUCK-THE-SHIT-OUT-OF-ME-AS-I-HAVENT-BEEN-MY-USUAL-SLUT-SELF-IN-QUITE-A-WHILE.”

Killer!!! I just found out how to get a 7 day free pass!!! Game on!!! Here is what I actually emailed her:

You have got to be fucking kidding me. Never did I think I’d pay for an online dating service (actually I still haven’t, 7 day free trial!). But recently I received a message in my Yahoo mailbox that left me speechless for most of the morning (thank goodness no one called at the office). And yes, it was yours. And by the way, if you had included your email address with your post I wouldn’t have to cancel this 7 day free trial offer next week (but that’s ok). Oh, by the way, mine is (blank). So… You like beer, chicken wings, and McDonalds. Will you marry me? Whoa, just kidding. I’m glad you laughed at the stupid profile thing, and yes, unfortunately all that shit is true (and stupid). Oh wait, I just double checked it, there are some misstatements in it. I’m not actually 6’5”, more like 5’9”. Just kidding on that one, dad was measuring my sister one day so I did it too, 6’4”, but 6’5” with shoes on! It also has the body type as “athletic” but that should have a sub-description saying that although I go to the gym everyday I usually have to be revived by a homeless man after I pass out from running 2.5 miles (even worse when he tries to give me CPR. I gave him toothpaste last time I saw him). Sadly, I wasn’t kidding about the “Cheers” part and my local sports bar being 90 steps away (65 from the front door). I get phone calls from friends if I don’t show up on any given night. There is rarely a night when I don’t know over half the people in there. But that is my evening entertainment. Some people might read, some people might watch TV, I sit at the bar and talk with lawyers and hairdressers for three hours a night watching whatever baseball/basketball/football game is on (thank goodness the regular season has started, my hands were starting to shake). So I guess the “drinks socially” part could be amended to “drinks socially every day but handles it like a champ.” Oh boy, has any of this turned you off yet and make you wish you never replied to some stupid profile that made you laugh? If that stupid thing made you laugh, I write on a stupid blog every night. I’d tell you the address, but I don’t think any woman would date me after reading about the stupid stuff I do/write. I’ll forward you the entry about your message and the $25 monthly Yahoo fee (before I found out about the 7 day free trial thing) if you want.

I liked your message, it actually sounds like we might have something in common. If not I’ll just lie and pretend like we do so I can get in your pants. No, I wouldn’t do that, at least not the lying part… I’ll just shut up now. Take care.

We actually emailed several times throughout the day and she seemed pretty cool (except for the horse and cat crap, evil animals). So the odds of me getting laid tomorrow are roughly 1 in 146,107,962. She joked about having sex with me if I won the lottery tonight ($64.5 cash option!), but I've got this feeling...

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

LASIK/Cancun Email

I was talking to two people this afternoon and the guy was telling the girl how he was in the zone today, jamming out to his headphones and compiling reports without even zooming in to see the minuscule numbers on the spreadsheet, for some reason he could see the numbers clear as day. She inquired about his poor eye sight and he said without his contacts in he can’t see three feet in front of his face. He also said he hadn’t taken them out in over three weeks. I chipped in, “That can’t be good for your eyes, can it?” He agreed with me and planned on taking them out tonight. I figured this guy might be a good candidate for LASIK eye surgery. “You know, I had the LASIK eye surgery a couple years ago and absolutely love it. You don’t have to worry about glasses or contacts anymore. My eyes feel much more refreshed than when I was wearing contacts all day long. Your eyes need the oxygen your contacts don’t allow in.” He asked if the whole process was painful and I tried to remember back. “No, it wasn’t all the bad. Of course I had to have someone drive me there and pick me up. It didn’t take too long and the actual procedure wasn’t painful. But once you get outside your eyes are three times as sensitive to the light. If you do it be sure to bring very dark sunglasses and a baseball hat otherwise you’ll get the instant headache like I did. That’s pretty much the only pain you have for four days, just a lingering headache. I would plan on having it done on a Friday and taking Monday, Tuesday, and maybe even Wednesday off. After that you’re pretty much 100% healed and you start your life without corrective lenses. I haven’t had a problem yet.” He thought about it for a while and replied, “Thanks, man. I’ve been thinking about it and the prices are coming down lately. I’m going to look into it some more right now.” Me, “Not a problem. Have a good afternoon.”

I hope it works out for him as I’ve never had the surgery done; he’s my guinea pig.

Email from an ex-girlfriend who recently tried to make me feel bad or something for breaking up with her 4 years ago (uh, get over it?). Ok, so maybe I shouldn’t have broken up with her the week we got back from Cancun, but the trip was paid for and I didn’t want to cancel it. Come on, fuck, it was Cancun!

Hey, sorry to bug you but you're the only Cancun expert I know of. Do you happen to know the name of that restaurant that we went to were you really liked the food? I think it was their steak burritos.



Yes my friends, it only took 29 years, but I am officially an expert at something (other than masturbating). Now mind you I don’t really consider myself an expert of Cancun (unless the only criteria you take into account is getting absolutely loaded every freaking night, hanging out with locals who may or may not speak English, and making it back to your hotel in one piece). Last time I even ventured 20 minutes out and visited a couple strip clubs (oh my). I guess you could call them strip clubs/hotels as they had bedrooms on the second floor, but I’m not exactly sure what those were for (wink). Playa! Besides that, I guess I do know a little about Cancun, but just the necessities. You can get two liters of Bacardi at Walmart for $13, although their six packs of beer are $4, no 30 packs of Busch Lite in sight. I know where the good local restaurants are and what’s good on the menus. I could point you to a different club every night depending on what your mood is. I found a really nice piano bar (actually a dueling piano bar) that had two pianists facing each other on two pianos. They jammed out to any request you put in their suggestion/tip box and they were damn good. Didn’t hurt that the broad was smoking hot. It wasn’t too loud that you couldn’t talk to the person next to you but still loud enough to draw the attention of the whole bar (which was pretty big). If I remember correctly I got really loaded that night and couldn’t find the server and just left without paying. Unfortunately I think the hurricane wiped that place out. The shopping malls (puke) are easy to find, beaches along the east side have the nicer beaches and bigger waves (please be careful over there), and the cab drivers charge you $3 more if you’re not a local.

The night clubs, while I’ve been to them all (expect a $30 cover charge for open bar), aren’t really my cup of tea. I met a group of six locals one night at a local bar. Most spoke English, a couple didn’t, they taught me dominos as we drank our two for ones and ate some funky food. Well, I guess we had to leave because some of the local men weren’t happy that 6’4” Whitey B was talking to the hottest girls in the bar (seriously, not lying, why don’t you believe me?) and we had to leave. I hopped in a cab with them not knowing where we were going (which happened to be a stop at the convenient store for cigs and beer for the ride). We end up in front of one of the biggest night clubs Coco Bongo which has this absolutely crazy line at the front door (seriously people, it’s not worth waiting). The one girl grabs my hand and whispers “Don’t say anything” and I followed them past the line to the door. Now mind you I said these girls were hot. Before I know it some guy is putting a open bar wristband on me and we’re in the club. No wait, no charge, just walked right in. Sweet. Long story short, ended up making out with the hottest one (please believe me) and getting home somehow, no idea. And that was my last night their, got home at 6:0 and had to get up at 10:00 to get to the airport.

I’m sure I’ll think of more stories as my trip approaches in a couple months.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Sunday Football

G the hair dresser was telling me more stories last night. Oh my goodness (PG rated version). Everything from his brother knocking out three guys over a parking spot to things I can’t even post on here. I was supposed to watch some college football with him today but we me up early and he’s sleeping now, fuck you hair dresser. If I ever write his book it will be good, as long as some editor fixes all my fuck ups and makes it interesting.

So I’ve taken one step closer to being gay (I think my pink shirt started it all), I bought a camera today. Never owned a camera before but I figured it’s time, Cancun is less than two months away, and I’ve never brought pictures back from Cancun. Last time I was there I was with two chicks who were getting their hair braided by two locals. They said they’ve never seen a white penis before (I would have easily fucked either of them in a heartbeat, I ain’t picky), so I pretended to pull down my pants and they both grabbed their camera phones to take a picture but I only showed my white ass, much to their dismay. So B didn’t get none that night, stayed out till 6:00 am when the girls had to catch their flight and went back to the hotel. Yeah, I’m a pussy. I need another week down there all by myself (done it twice) and just mingle with the locals (although the last time I did that I had to call a co-worker who was coming down the next week and bring me some extra cash as I spent just a little too much at the strip club since I was getting a little lonely). I’m a slut, I know.

I was paying tribute to Tu-Pak this morning, blasting Makaveli and doing the white boy dance. Moved on to Too Short (greatest rapper ever) and currently shivering on the deck. Ok, just put a sweatshirt on, much better. Fall is good but winter sucks, just around the corner. I’m sure the peeps from Chicago and Madison can relate.

It’s finally here! Sunday NFL regular season football is in full swing. I started my Sunday by doing laundry and mowing the lawn, getting the usual weekend chores out of the way. Well, not completely as I now have a humongous pile of clean clothes in my room and can hardly walk anywhere but they’re all clean. At 1:30 I was planted in the hair dresser’s usual chair (he was golfing) at the corner bar taking in all the touchdowns and score updates I could catch. Two TVs directly in front of me with huge 320 lb men beating the crap out of each other and a cold pitcher of beer; I was in heaven. The Packers looked like shit (pretty much knew they would) but I still managed to win some money off them. They have a quarterly pool at the corner bar where ten people will sign their names on a sheet and get a random number from 0-9. In order to win the pot (ten people x $5 = $50) your number has to match the combined total of both teams last digit in their score. For example, the Packers first quarter score was 7-0 meaning whoever has #7 wins the pot. Can you guess who had #7? Yup, that’d be the roommate and I as we went in together on the pool (because $5 is way too much to lose). We played the second and third quarters too but didn’t win anything. The last quarter they up the stakes to $10 a player making the pot $100. Roommate and I decided to play again, putting $5 in each. As soon as the numbers were revealed the Bears kicked a field goal to make it 26-0 making the #6 we drew very attractive. Only problem was we had to go 14 minutes in the final quarter with neither team scoring in order to win. We were nervous wrecks for the next 45 minutes real time that it takes a pro football game to play 14 minutes. The whole fourth quarter was really ugly with neither team really coming close to scoring, and when they would Favre would either throw an interception or a penalty flag would negate a big play. We didn’t breathe out sighs of relief until the clock read 0:00 as the Packers were still trying to score even though they were down by 26 (they should have been taking a knee to run the clock out). So even though the Packers lost we still came out ahead for the day. Stayed at the bar watching the night game till about 8:30 and went home as 6.5 hours of drinking beer is about all I can handle (especially after going from 11:30 till 11:30 on Saturday. I’d write about that but I don’t remember it).

Saturday, September 09, 2006

Why does my bag of sunflower seeds state that these two ounces of seeds have 200 calories when I check my shit (just a visual) and find whole undigested seeds? Wouldn’t that be closer to zero calories if they just pass right through you? I have found that while the salt makes your mouth dry and your cheeks stick to your gums so you can’t talk properly, they really help pass the time, make me totally forget about cigarettes (at least for two hours), and curb my appetite as I’m constantly eating but they’re only sunflower seeds that pass right through me. While not exactly health food (I think they’re kind of fatty), if they pass right through you what’s the difference? The best part is they’re totally fucking cheap, $1.50 for a bag that will last me three days. Granted your boss might look at you funny when you have a handful of seeds in your mouth and you look like Alvin the Chipmunk or Owen Wilson, but you better believe he/she will be doing the same thing when they see the pounds magically fall off you. So if you start getting spam about a new sunflower seed diet, please call my agent since I’ll be loaded with cash from the spam and my book deal that I won’t want to be disturbed sitting on the beach in Mexico (with two topples Mexicans on either side of me, but not like these). But more like these.

How about another weight loss story? Back when I was in college, probably 21 or 22, some girl broke my heart after being together for three years (that reminds me, I still have Polaroid’s of her topless and with my penis in her mouth, but nevermind). I was pretty much devastated, one of those where that’s the only thing you think about and you still call every day just so she can not answer and you leave a really disgustingly sappy message. Yeah, it was bad, will never go there again, might have affected my dating life just a bit (understatement). Anyway, I’d wake up early in the morning and go jogging two miles pretty much every day. I’d shower, grab the bag lunch mom made and head off to school. I’d hit the veggies first, maybe around 9:00, because I didn’t think veggies would make you fat so I’d eat them all. Around 11:00 I’d bust out the sandwich, peal off the bread, and just eat the meat (got a little messy when it was chopped up beef in mayo, but I still did it right in the middle of class in the back row). Later on I’d finish whatever else was in the bag whenever the urge came, usually a banana or something like that. After school I’d hit the corner bar which I just moved next to. Back then it was really quiet in there, maybe five people max. The bartender was a sports gambling fiend so he’d always have college basketball on (still remember watching an Indiana game when he said “Short white guy on the line, short white guys always make their free throws.” And they did.). So I’d do my homework at the bar while drinking two pitchers of beer, having a cigarette after every second glass. Back them I was 210 lbs, I had just bench pressed 300 lbs two Sunday’s in a row (I thought that was pretty impressive), but after the breakup the strength went down the tubes and with the before mentioned diet I lost 25 lbs in a month, down to 185. I was pretty impressed, even with the loss of strength my muscles stood out a lot without all the fat covering them. But then we got back together (bad idea) for a couple months and I gained it back.

So there you have it, two fantastic weight loss strategies. Either start chomping on sunflower seeds or have your girlfriend/boyfriend dump you after three years. I’d go with the sunflower seeds as three years is a long time to wait to lose weight.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Mostly Crap You Don't Want To Read

Email from Asian roommate:

got toothpaste, teeth all clean!!

Bitch was using my toothpaste when she had strep throat. I'm not a doctor but YA THINK THAT'S NOT EXACTLY A SMART FUCKING THING TO DO? My response to Asian roommate:

Oooh, got tooth paste, teeth all clean, me brush dem very well, wit toot brush even, time to eat my fwied wice.

And she threatened to cut holes in my underwear so my balls hang out but I think they do already so that’s no big deal. I can do much worse like have sex with her teddy bear (thought about it a couple of times) or kick her ass to the curb in the middle of winter (without helping move of course). Oh I'm not that evil, the kicking her out part.

Gotta love those crack whores, they keep the economy going. (Don’t ask me where that came from, said it to the roommate this morning as we were getting ready for work.)

I saw geese flying south today, great big V formation (but one side was longer than the other, wonder why?). Fuck, winter is coming and I’ll be trapped inside my house all the time. Or trapped at the bar, better start a small savings account for the winter bar tab. Shit, not being able to sit on my deck (as I am now) and write about the dumbest crap some people supposedly like to read while getting hammered on cheap vodka and lemonade? I’m fucked. Might as well start studying for the CPA test and kiss my “not your average accountant” life goodbye. I'm picking up a bow tie from Walmart today just in case.

People at the gym called me Brian three times today. Old lawyer said “Brian” and waves me over. He points to the chic at the front desk. “I asked her if she liked her job and she said the only reason she does it is to watch you workout.” Later Jim says, “You young guys and your flat stomachs, hell, Brian even weighs himself with his shoes on.” At the end old lawyer again, “Wow Brian, you’re really sweating today. Working hard?” Me, “No, it’s just the Duncan Donuts coffee I had at 10:00, not used to the caffine. Or it could be the three pitchers of beer and pack of cigarettes from last night, it’s a toss up.” The legend of Big Bad Brian lives on.

Saw the 40ish woman at the gym as she was leaving out the other stairway, just caught a shot at her ass. But as I was going up the other stairs there’s this hot college chic in front of me. I let her go up first and sneak a peek at the ass, not bad, keep my head down the rest of the way like a gentleman (come on, me?). She beats me to the top of the stairs and holds the door for me. “Sorry, I’m just a little slow.” She does situps in the corner for 10 minutes and smiles at me as she heads to the elliptical machine. Gentleman B goes out the window and Big Bad Brian comes in with music blaring, lights flashing, ripping his shirt off like only Hulk Hogan can. Her ass is pumping on this machine and my eyes are glued (except for the occasional dart to the left and right to make sure no one is watching me). This girl's got it going on! I make a point to go to the other room and walk in front of her to check out the rack, very nice. By the time I got back from the other room she was sweating her ass off with her hair pulled up and her face a different shade of red. Sweaty girls might not turn some guys on but holy shit I had to concentrate to keep Mr. Winky from making an unexpected appearance. The rest of the workout consisted of me finding machines that gave me a good view of her ass while I imagined sweat dripping off of her and on to me as we’re having porn star sex that’s actually worth taping (we could make fortunes!). So I’m thinking a little lunch time aerobic session in her dorm room would be a good excuse to skip the gym one day (or every day for that matter).

Tomorrow I'll fill you in on two weight loss secrets I have stumbled across in my 29 years of existence. I'm off to a wonderful evening of downing as much beer as possible (did six pitchers on a couple of occasions) and servicing the roommate (wait, that wasn't in the rental agreement, she should pay me more for that, right?). This is my life (plus or minus a couple exadurations, have to keep posting that to keep the Feds off my ass!).

Thursday, September 07, 2006

No Title, Jumps Around Too Much

Pretty funny, two days after I put her picture on my blog Paris Hilton gets pulled over for DUI.

Email #1 from today (from Marquette):


Thank you for your recent gym renewal at Marquette University. Upon review of your membership renewal, it was noticed that you were charged incorrectly for your Alumni Individual membership. You were charged $90 instead of $113. In order to activate your ID card, please remit $23 to the Main Office at your earliest convenience.
Should you have any questions, please contact me.

My email after dropping off the check:

Please tell me that either a) you received my check and I'm paid in full or b) I have to go donate plasma tonight to cover the rising gym costs.


They didn’t get back to me yesterday so I feared the worst and donated plasma twice last night and swung by the sperm bank but after yanging away for 30 minutes I gave up. The 60 yr old nurse wouldn't help me out either. Today I feel a little woozy and my crotch and right arm hurt. But I have $46 in my pocket!

Email #2 from today (from roommate):

ok why do i have a strong desire to make out with someone today? maybe i shouldnt of ordered from jimmy john's today.

Yeah, she doesn’t do too much with punctuation and has a thing for the Jimmy John's delivery boy. My response:

Why do I have this urge to fuck Paris Hilton?
Is that ass sticking out of her skirt?

(By the way, think she does anal sex? I’m guessing her ass is pretty tight since I’m sure she doesn’t eat half a cow in one sitting (so I like meat). Wait, does that mean my ass is loose? Nope, just did the thumb check, it seems pretty tight to me. But seriously, sex with Paris Hilton? I don’t know if it would be the actual sex that would be great or knowing that you’re fucking a snotty little rich bitch, I’m guessing more the later.)

The 32oz Gatorade bottle I use for water at work is the same bottle I take to the gym with me. Taking my first gulp of water today I almost gagged at the stench of body odor coming from the cap. Maybe I shouldn’t put it in the same compartment in my gym bag with my shoes. It smelled like I stuffed it under my armpit for the whole workout. I could smell it just walking down the hall carrying it, hope nobody thought the odor was actually me. Quite disgusting, didn’t stop me from using it throughout the day.

Funny clip I found on some comedians blog:

I don't do well on job interviews. They always ask dumb questions that no one ever answers honestly.

Like, "What would you consider your biggest accomplishment at your last job?"
"My biggest accomplishment? Well, one morning, I drank so much coffee that I could see through walls."

Or, "Well, I really hated my job, so I stayed out drinking one night, and I was out so late that I got home just in time to wake up for work the next day. Well, I had to save all my sick days for this vacation I was planning on taking, so I came into work still drunk. I fell asleep on the toilet for three hours and no one noticed. That was a pretty big accomplishment."

Another dumb question: "What would you consider your biggest strength?"
"I can jerk off without using my hands. . . . I am showing you. I'm showing you right now."

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"
"In a crystal ball. That's where I always see the future."

"What do you bring to the company?"
"I'm a team player. I have a fantasy baseball team, a fantasy football team."

"What's your biggest weakness?"
"I do have a weakness for alcohol. I have a 'lateness problem,' so I'll show up around noon every day - really drunk. Fall asleep on the toilet for three hours, but don't worry no one will notice. Also, I cut myself to see if I can still feel. Then, I'm going to sell your computer for crack."

That's it, sorry to disappoint you.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

B's Dating Life

This is pretty sad: going to bed the last couple nights I’ll lie there and try to think of some clever lines for the hot 40ish woman at the gym (who hasn’t been there this week, bitch). No matter what I come up with it sounds gay as hell, cheesier than a shirtless fat guy at a Packer game with his cheese head foam hat on. I have two things going against me.
1. She has to be at least 9 or 10 years older than me.
2. I’m a shy pussy (at least when sober).
These two conditions will ruin any chance I have of actually asking her out to dinner or something. First the age thing, what do 40ish women do for fun? I know she plays softball and likes to workout, but what about after 5:00? Go home, do laundry, cook dinner for her 20 year old daughter (wonder if she’s hot, little mother/daughter tag team action? Gross, I’m sorry), read a book and go to bed? Whereas I get off work, go to the parents for free food, go home and maybe go jogging, sit on the deck and write stupid shit on the internet while drinking vod/lems and downing three pitchers at the corner bar, finally going to bed in the 11:00-12:00 range (a boy needs his sleep). I’m guessing her life is completely different from mine, everything from her goals to her interests (well, we share the common interest in getting butt ass naked together and having hot Bruce Banner sex at first and then The Hulk/porno sex to seal the deal, I haven’t asked her yet but I’m sure about this one). Is she going to get pissed at my almost 30 and still can’t date anyone longer than two months mental state and rip me a new asshole (trust me, I shit enough as it is) when she thinks everything is going well and I’m screaming at the guardsman begging him to let me out of jail? (Please, I have Snickers and Twix for you if you let me out!) (Actually, you’re looking thinner lately, have you been working out? I have a granola bar in that case.)

Or, on the other hand, maybe she’s one of those older women like Stiffler’s mom in the American Pie movies, the kind that just wants the younger man for hot steamy sex and that’s it (oh I could totally go for that). Usually older women know what they want and go for it, but I’m afraid if that were the case she would have said something by now. Really, I’m not that innocent, I just look it, I’ll gladly screw you and leave promptly after. And I’m pretty sure you’ll be calling back for seconds. Unfortunately I think she’s too nice to have this dark side in her.

Then there’s the shy pussy thing. When sober I’m not the greatest with people I don’t know too well, usually try too hard to either think of something funny or to explain something without going on and on like a broken record. This goes for both sexes. I catch myself stammering a bit thinking of the right words to say. When drinking shit flies out of my mouth like sperm from Ron Jeremy as he cums on ten women in one shoot. (If you don’t know who Ron Jeremy is please look him up, just not at work. I actually saw him in Vegas once.) I’m not exactly sure what shit will come out of my mouth, but usually it’s entertaining and the only black eyes I’ve gotten lately are from falling on my face in an effort to walk. I mean hey, I must be saying something right in order to get women from the bar to go home with me (once every three months). So I lie there at night, trying to go to sleep, thinking up conversations with this woman and replaying them in my head, and I’ve come to the conclusion that everything I’ve come up with would only would while we were both semi-intoxicated and in the bar setting (please remember I’m thinking this shit up while trying to pass out). This is the only real courting I’ve done in, oh I’d say 8.5 years since I turned 21 (legal drinking age in the States). After age 21 I stopped trying to do the traditional dating thing as I just don’t have the patience for it and don’t want to spend the money for a kiss goodnight (geez that sounds bad). I’d rather pull some random woman home and pretend to be in love with her and we have drunken sex on my bed (or on the floor after we fall off). I can pretend pretty well. This way I don’t have to deal with calling the next day, taking her out to dinner, meeting the parents, or attending lame family functions like Thanksgiving and such.

But I’m getting off track, I don’t know if the proper word is “shy” but I think I might be more afraid of letting the real B out and try to sugar coat it a little. Would people find the real B entertaining and interesting if they really got to know me? I’m getting more comfortable with the old lawyer as I asked him if he thought hot 40ish’s boobs were real or not. That’s just part of the real B coming out, or Brian to him. I guess only time will tell, I’ll give the 40ish woman some shit about not using enough weight or something lame like that and see where it goes. Like I said, I’m a pussy.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Big Bad Brian

It’s doubly official now, I’ll have to let mom know I need to change my birth certificate. Walking into the gym today I was greeted with “Hey, big bad Brian, how’d the weekend treat you?” Of course Brian isn’t my name but like I have many other times, I just went along with it. “Weekend was good, ate too much, drank way too much, started feeling guilty about not working out.” Old (but not smelly anymore since he’s been changing his clothes) lawyer, “Ah, sometimes that’s good for you to take some days off.” I don’t think he really understood that my “drank too much” comment was really an understatement. The correct response should have been “Weekend was good, ate too much, drank so much that I slept till noon everyday and didn’t feel like doing shit during the day but start drinking again, mowed the lawn, washed the car, and drank some more, and some more, and just a little more.”

I’m starting to like this new name thing. By day I’m the normal B, laid back, funny, little perverted, try to make everyone around me have a good day. But at noon, walking into the gym, I’m Big Bad Brian (notice the capital letters), biggest boy in the weight room (not saying much), pounding every weight in sight, working up a sweat as I max out all the machines, catching glances from the college coeds with my tan arms and large chest/back combo (won’t even mention the chicken legs). My alter ego pumps iron till his muscles ache, sweats till his underwear is soaked, all the while ignoring his pounding his heart from the pack of cigarettes the night before. Big Bad Brian is an animal. For one hour Bruce Banner becomes the Hulk,
devouring weights and ogling women (the Hulk can be perverted, right?). College freshmen stay out of his way, afraid to interrupt the Green Machine’s workout (even though the old fucking lawyers do it all the time, bastards). Somehow this illiterate Hulk manages to find a place in the heart a 40ish old woman, and she finds a place in his. After the Hulk transforms back to Bruce Banner they have intellectual conversations over dinner and make passionate love, even though she knows he will turn into the Hulk again the next day (I think she kind of likes the Hulk) and may or may not remember the intellectual conversation due to his extreme level of intoxication at dinner. If only the hot 40ish woman looked like the co-star of "The Hulk", Jennifer Connelly.
I’m just hoping no one calls me on this as I’d be pretty embarrassed to have everyone call me Brian for a year when that’s not my name and I never corrected anyone on it.


I need new underwear. Only problem is my shit is so old that I can’t read the tag to see what size they are. Not only can I not read the tags, some of them have quarter sized holes in them (my testicles have felt the insides of my pants on many occasions). I’ve made several trips to Walmart and browsed the underwear section many times but not knowing the correct size I never bought anything. And after a recent “commando day” I realize the importance of underwear over my sweaty/smelly junk (oops, forgot to mention large). Which brings me to this question: why hasn’t a woman, after seeing the state of my underwear, abruptly gotten dressed and leave me hanging (literally) with a throbbing unit? I’ve seen women’s underwear drawers on Room Raiders (told you I was an MTV fanatic) and they’re filled with crap loads of nice underwear in various colors and styles.
I have yet to see a holy pair of granny panties or faded thong. Women seem to pride themselves on having nice underwear. So what does that say about me and my holy/faded/stretched out with no elastic left briefs that probably look like this guys?
Is it that I don’t respect my junk enough (but trust me I do) to cover them in some nice silk boxers? Could be that I get laid so sporadically (three times in one weekend, then zero times for three months) that I never know when I should wear the good ones. It’s not like I had planned to make out with anyone at the bar three weeks ago, shit just happens whenever. I think the real reason that women don’t leave is they see what I have in store for them and they brush the shitty underwear as a minor flaw in me (I have way, way more). And while I’ve been told by the neighborhood gay guy that men would be attracted to me, I don’t think a gay guy would stick around after seeing the state of my undees. My conclusion is women don’t leave as I only pick the highest quality women, well, just the best of the drunk women at the bar.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Internet Findings/Cousins/Weekend

I found this article about brothels in Australia giving discounts with the purchase of gas. Not exactly sure how the two correlate but… Just note that the “A” in front of the dollar amounts is in Australian currency.

"If you come in and spend time with one of our lovely ladies, we'll give you a discount of 20 cents a liter," Kerry, manager of Sydney brothel The Site, told Reuters Wednesday.
There is no link between brothels, petrol providers or supermarkets but brothels like The Site and Madame Kerry's say the system is simple.
Once you've filled up your car, bring your receipt to the brothel and they'll discount the price of your visit.
The bill for a full 50-liter tank at 126.9 cents per liter comes to A$63.45 ($48.22). With the offered 20c a liter discount, the petrol bill would have instead come to A$53.45.
That A$10 difference is taken off the A$150 cost of a 30-minute session with one of the brothel's "service providers."

So you’re telling me if I would fill up my gas tank I could have sex with a real woman (not porn) for $106? I have friends who drop that on an expensive meal and don’t get any play out of it (besides a case of the runs from bad sushi). Give me the hooker any day. Don’t have to put up with the lame conversation about work or who’s going out with who or who just broke up. Just get right at it, bang the hoe, see ya later, I’m going to the doctor to have my penis disinfected.

An old fling asked me what I’d been up to lately:

Oh, just the same old crap, finding women’s phone numbers on napkins that I don’t remember meeting, soiling myself, fighting crime with my super powers, keeping all four tires on the road, drinking chocolate milk even though my stomach can’t handle it, violating my roommate’s teddy bear, calling 900 numbers for dates/lottery numbers, picking fuzz out of my toes in public, you know, all the usual single guy things.

Probably the reason I’m single. But she said she peed herself at work so it must have worked.

Another article from the internet (Forbes) indicated Milwaukee as the heaviest drinking city in the states.

It will come as no surprise that the residents of a city known as "The Nation's Watering Hole" like to have a beer or two. But Milwaukee isn't just your average brewing town. It's the hardest-drinking city in America, according to's ranking of America's Drunkest Cities.

What gets me is their classification of different drinking levels.

More than 70 percent of adult Milwaukeeans reported that they had had at least one alcoholic drink within the past 30 days — the highest percentage on our list. Twenty-two percent of Milwaukee respondents confessed to binge drinking, or having five or more drinks on one occasion--also the highest on our list. And 7.5 percent of the population were reported as heavy drinkers — adult men that have more than two drinks per day, or adult women who have more than one drink per day.

So, according to them, an adult man who has three drinks per day is a heavy drinker. Maybe my viewpoint is a little skewered, but three? I measured four shots of vodka in in vod/lem recently. And that was just the first of three or four glasses. I’m wondering what they would classify me as since “heavy drinker” is probably pretty close to the top of the scale. Unless they have a “alcohol for blood” or “drinks till one passes out and doesn’t remember getting a bj from Pamela Anderson and Jenna Jamison at the same time” classification (I’m sure one of them left their phone number this weekend).

I went to Cousins (sub place) on Saturday on the way to the parents house. While I was waiting for my turkey sub four women walked in. Each was under 5'3 and well over 200 lbs (do they travel in heards?). I wanted to tell them that Jared went to Subway, not Cousins, to lose his 300 lbs or whatever, but of course I didn't, they could have kicked me to the ground and smothered me. Nothing like 800 lbs of woman on top of you.

So this labor day weekend, I actually did do a little labor. Spent an hour at Menards getting wood to finish the deck and bought a table for it. Washed the cars (owed the roommate one), mowed the lawn, the usual weekend chores. Other than that most of the weekend is hazy besides losing a little money at the casino (really have to stop going there). I’ve slept till noon for three days in a row now, Monday will be number four. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy that, not that I’m a lazy bastard, I still got stuff done in the afternoons, but being holed up in your room under covers four hours later than you normally would be feels like heaven. Being able to nurse a hangover in bed till it’s gone and getting out of bed pretty much totally refreshed leaves you with plenty of energy for a productive afternoon and night time partying.

The only down point of the weekend was the neighbor and I getting into a fist fight. It was over something completely stupid (I won’t get into it now) but he wanted to fight so I knocked him out (heavy bag in the basement actually came in handy). Now I’m sure he’s really pissed off and I have to keep my car in the garage at all times, hopefully he won’t touch the roommate’s car.

No, this really didn’t happen, but it makes you wonder how much you read in blogs is really true. Did this guy really lose his watch in his girlfriends pussy? (I actually heard a story recently where a guy found a used condom in a broad, totally gross.) Did this woman really blow the DJ and get an eyeful of spunk? Does Jason Mulgrew really have hobbit feet? But I, on the other hand, assure you that my writings are at least 50% true (disclaimer in case the Feds ever come calling).