Thursday, September 27, 2007


MRI at the ghastly hour of 7:30 am on Friday. At least they should know what's wrong with me then. Besides the fact that I shit and fart too much, among other things. That list could go on forever.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007


My dear friends, loved ones, and family members (God I hope they haven’t stumbled across this site), things ain’t looking too good over here. Things ain’t looking good at all.

I told you that I hurt my knee last week lifting weights in the basement. I figured I’d take it easy over the weekend and I did; didn’t even mow the lawn. But here it is, a week later, and the swelling is still there. It isn’t painful or anything but that’s what concerns me the most.

Back in 2001 I was in what you might call a serious car accident. I don’t know what the medical profession’s description of “serious” is, but I’m going to guess when you loose your spleen, one kidney, crack some ribs and break both your tib and fib it’s pretty serious (I was laid up for just a bit). On top of that they found that I had torn the MCL on my left knee (the outer ligament). Well, I’m pretty damn sure I tore it again. Sucks.

The MCL (as far as I’ve been informed and experienced) more or less provides stability to the knee. I can still push in the clutch on the Jeep without a problem but the knee wants to buckle when I’m standing or walking. And it doesn’t hurt at all which is why I think I ripped it off cleanly; if it was partially torn I’d be feeling it. So don’t worry about me for now, I’m pain free.

But the inevitable is just around the corner: knee surgery. I am not looking forward to this. The last time they repaired it the pain was pretty bad. Every time I’d try to move the leg I’d get a shooting pain like someone was sticking you with large diameter needles over eight inches on the side of your knee. Yeah, I was hitting the nurse’s call button every four hours to get the pain killers (I was stuck there for a week while they tried to figure out what kind of infection they had found in the knee). Hopefully this time I’ll be in and out so I can sit at home and enjoy some quality soap operas (puke) on the new TV.

I don’t know what I’m going to do after the surgery as far as getting to work is concerned. While I can easily push in the clutch now I most definitely won’t be able to for quite some time after the surgery. The doc’s will set me up with one of those massive knee braces with the hinge on it and everything but I’m sure they will adjust it to limit the range of movement. So we’ll see how it goes. Trust me, with nothing else going on in my life, I’ll keep you informed.

(Speaking about the TV: you know how people spend $100’s on special cables to hook up their digital cable and sound systems? Well, I went to Radio Shack and bought a six foot RCA cable to hook up the stereo for $9 and it works great. The first night I popped in The Italian Job and watched the last 20 minutes where they’re flying around in the Mini Coopers. Pretty sweet. And then last night I was watching the Brewers (Fielder hit numbers 49 and 50) and every time they’d hit a low foul ball I’d jump when the four 10” subs went thud when the ball would hit something off screen.)

Vick, Pot, What?

Michael Vick tested positive for marijuana. I mean, come on! You suspend him for the season, what do you think he’s going to be doing? Poor guy’s already facing probably two years in the pokey (not to be confused with his nickname Pookie).

Tuesday, September 25, 2007


Saturday morning after I posted the last post (would that be the post post?) I woke up the Renter at around 11:00 to take me shopping. I figured she owed me for making me stay at the casino too long on Friday night (after I was up $100). And I was still “feeling it” and didn’t think driving would be the best idea. By 11:15 we were out the door.

The first stop was Wal*Mart. I had my list in hand and knew exactly what I needed. The Wal*Mart shopping spree went as follows:

10 sets of underwear
2 chairs (since someone lifted two from the deck)
Laundry detergent
Dryer sheets
Paper plates
Enough toilet paper to last an average person for months (me, not so much)
Paper towels
Sunflower seeds
Beef jerky
Ruby Red grapefruit juice

I thought we were in and out pretty fast but the Renter said no and that her ass was sweating. You should have seen her doing some weird dance in the parking lot trying to get some airflow up her skirt.

(Oh, and I forgot one embarrassing item. I bought a pool stick for $9. That’s pretty fucking cheap for a pool stick.)

The next stop was Pick N Save. Once again I had my list ready and knew exactly where everything was.

Chicken legs/thighs
54 eggs
2 cans of coffee
12 oz of milk
Shredded cheese
4 frozen pizzas
30 pack of Milwaukee’s Best Light
12 pack of Killian’s Irish Red
Big bottle of Southern Comfort
20 stamps

The only thing that took long was the bag lady who took five minutes to bag all that shit. God she was slow.

The last stop was Menards. I stained the deck this spring but I figured another coat wouldn’t hurt anything and since I was trying to spend money I bought four gallons and some brushes.

By 1:00 I had spent $341. I don’t think I splurged or bought anything that wasn’t necessary (and the first person who says the Southern Comfort wasn’t necessary is going to get one square in the jaw). My mission to spend the casino money was accomplished in a swift, organized manner. It was time for beer.

I opened up the first Killian’s and pulled a chair out on to the deck. It was probably close to 80 and sunny and after two hours of shopping I didn’t feel like mowing the lawn or washing the car. So there I sat with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Things got blurry pretty quickly after that. After Killian’s number eleven we went out to the Saturday $.25 wing place (I’d tell you the name of the place but then I’d have to kill you). Since I was on the Irish Red beer I figured I’d stay red and get a pitcher of DosEquies Amber. A pitcher of amber beer, 30 chicken wings, and a Brewer’s loss later and I was pretty much toast. On the way out I flipped the Renter’s dress up as she was putting the leftover chicken wings in the trunk of her car - in front of all the people sitting on the patio. “Flipped” as in I lifted the bottom over her head. Hey, I never said I was nice.

And then the evening activities took a drastic change. You know how my dad suggested I buy a TV with the casino winnings? Well, even though I lost some back and had spent the rest of it I still had the image of a TV burning in the back of my head.

Usually when people make a purchase like a TV they do a little research and price checking. I must be a fucking genius because I got it all done by going to two stores in under an hour. Actually, I would have gotten it done just by going to Best Buy but the Renter dragged me off to Circuit City just to check it out.

The B to the… method of shopping for big screen TV’s: get drunk, find the biggest TV that looks the best, check the price, find a cheaper big TV that looks nice, double check the price, wave down a salesman, ask him to write it up while you run off to go take a shit, sign the paperwork, find the closest bar and have a shot of Southern Comfort. I’m not saying this is the best way to buy a big screen TV but it sure as hell was easy and painless. Very painless: I left the receipt in the Renter’s car so I don’t even know how much I paid for it. Yeah bitches, that’s how I roll.

But in order for this to work you have to get really loaded. When the salesman asks your driver if he/she was indeed driving you’re doing pretty well. Not shitting you on this one.

We stopped at the corner bar for half an hour. I was pretty much like jello and sucked down two rumcos (rum and cokes) and quietly exited. I think I was in bed by 9:00.

(I guess I missed a big fight in which one of my friends got punched and fractured some of his eye bones. I felt pretty bad for him when I saw him on Sunday with a big shiner.)

I woke up pretty early on Sunday after a full night of sleep. Somehow the salesman managed to have the TV delivered on Sunday. 11:00 the doorbell went off. 11:10 I had the TV sitting on top of the entertainment center. 11:20 I had everything hooked up and the Sunday Countdown was blaring in my living room. 11:30 I was at the bar.

You’d think if someone just had a new TV delivered to their house they’d be watching football on it that day. But no, not me. But hey, you can’t blame me. I had free beer and possible pool tips waiting for me at the corner bar (pulled in $20).

The Packers played an exceptional game against the San Diego Chargers. Brett Favre looked like he was having a blast out there throwing long bombs and underhanded shuffle passes. The usual Packer crowd was in attendance (ave. age 50) and the old smoker lady could be heard in the background yelling, “Get him! Get him!”

The crowd cleared out when the game was over. Lawyer girl’s partner stayed with his friend who’s actually leaving for San Diego this week. But soon everyone left including the Renter. I think I was the only person in the bar for a good 45 minutes. I thought about going home and either playing with the new TV or taking a nap outside on the deck like I did last Sunday. But instead I stayed at the bar. I must have been really drunk on Saturday because the beer wasn’t going down that fast. After sitting at the bar for four hours I had only gone through three pitchers; the usual average is one every 45 minutes. Eventually two of the other bartenders showed up and we had a blast making fun of each other.

As you would expect the beer started to catch up to me and after pitcher number seven I had had enough. I had a couple rumcos and went home during halftime of the Dallas-Chicago game. I had a little cheddar on the Cowboys so I watched most of the second half till I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. This morning I figured out that it wasn’t that my eyes were going shut. It was my cheeks that were forcing my eyes shut. I must have been smiling from ear to ear as I watched the game because my cheeks were really sore this morning. This freaking TV that I bought is absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t be happier. Even though it’s sitting five feet off the ground it doesn’t matter if you’re lying down or standing up; it looks awesome from any angle. And this is all rather surprising. See, I don’t know a damn thing about TVs. I don’t know the difference between LCD, DLP, plasma, projection, or whatever other kinds there are out there. I honestly didn’t do any research besides looking at the TV and the price tag. I have no idea which brands are good or which ones last longer. I have no idea if the $200 two year service plan I got is worth the money or not. All I know is that I have 61” of pure bliss sitting in my living room.

And porn is almost life sized.

Saturday, September 22, 2007


Wednesday night I got home from work and went straight downstairs to the weight room. I was supposed to do legs, shoulders and arms but I managed to convince myself that my shoulders got enough work in on Monday so I skipped them.

I have this love/hate relationship with squats. I like doing them because they’re a good exercise but on the other hand my surgically repaired knee makes them really challenging. I decided to get them out of the way first. I did four sets with a good amount of weight (good amount for me, not for your average weight lifter), did the arms and some sit ups, took a shower and went to the bar.

Thursday morning I noticed something wasn’t right. My left knee was very tender and didn’t want to straighten out completely. I had to stretch it out in order to walk after sitting at my desk for any amount of time. I figured I might have tweaked it or something and that it would go away in no time.

Today as I sat down on the shitter I noticed that my knee was fat. The whole outer side of my knee ballooned out with an obvious build up of fluid. It isn’t as painful today but your knee doesn’t swell up like this unless something’s wrong.

I hate going to the doctor. I hate hospitals and all the sick people. And I hate surgery. When I initially had knee surgery it took forever to get it back in working order. Even two years later you could tell I was favoring it when I tried to jog. So now here I am with a fat knee and soiled underwear as I think I might have to go in and see about it. Fuck. It’s not like I felt any pain when I was squatting so it might turn out to be nothing. I guess I’ll just take it easy this weekend and see what it’s like on Monday.

Damn it, just realized I have to mow the lawn this weekend. Crap.

In other news…

Even though I said I was going to stay away from the casino for a while I found myself there again Wednesday night. I sat down at a table with a cute asian woman and an older gentleman. They were pretty quiet so of course Mr. Party (me when drinking) tried to liven them up with some high fives and cheering. And wouldn’t you know it but the table changed from being average to paying out like a bank teller with a gun in her face. Everyone was playing properly and the dealer kept on pushing chips across the table. I started out betting two hands of $30 and gradually increased my bets to two hands of $50. As I was doing this the other two were increasing from $50’s to $100’s. At one point I was up $300 and the Renter snatched my original $300 away from me so I wouldn’t leave down. After that I would build up what I had in front of me and push additional money her way, usually $100 every 15 minutes or so. In the end the dealer pulled something out of his ass and I quit. The two people on the end had huge stacks of green chips ($25’s) sitting in front of them. I only had about $275 in front of me when I looked over at the Renter to color up the chips I had given her. To my astonishment she handed me $900. I had just turned my $300 into $1,175.

This leaves me with a big problem. You might be saying huh, you just won $875, what kind of problem can that pose? See, I have this mentality that at some point I will more than likely lose that in the future so I just sock it away for that rainy day. And then at some point I do lose it and mope around like a fat girl whose prom date canceled the day before (and she really wanted to get laid). So to avoid this problem I have come up with a possible solution. Instead of putting it in the savings account like I usually do I’m going to, uh, I don’t even like to say the word, I’m going to spend it. (Whew that was tough.) That way I’ll be less likely to go to the casino when I know I’m not playing with their money. All you women with your $200 purses and designer jeans are scratching your heads in bewilderment. How can spending $900 be a problem? Well, I’m not like most people. I’m cheap. While I do spend a lot of money on beer and chicken wings it pains me to buy new Levi’s or shoes for work. Hell, I had to take a scissors to my current work shoes just last week because the lining was falling off and irritating my heel. I’ve walked out of a store before when I thought their prices on juice was too high. Just this morning I had to rip my dollar out of the soda machine at the last minute when I realized I could walk across the street and get a two liter bottle for the same price. So, do you see how spending $900 is going to be a problem for me?

I told my dad about this problem and he immediately handed me an ad for flat screens. Come on now, you’d think he’d know me by now. I can’t spend $900 on a TV. I’d have to be extremely loaded (drunk, not rich) to go out and make that purchase. Watch, now the Renter will start buying me shots this Saturday at 3:00.

I have started to put some thought into this. It’s just a start so don’t laugh at me. My list of things to buy as it stands right now:

1. Sunflower seeds
2. Coffee
3. Stamps
4. Eggs
5. Chicken
6. Milk
7. Paper plates
8. Underwear

Yeah, I know, that’s only like $40 but that’s all I’ve come up with so far. I suppose I could go out and get some new jeans since mine are a little tight (at least partly from the squats). But I don’t really need anything else. I’d like a new stainless steel cat-back exhaust for the Jeep but my exhaust is fine the way it is except for the lack of any growl in tone. I’ve put thought (and looked online) into buying a laptop and I could probably do it mentally if it only cost $350-$400 but then again I don’t want a piece of shit or anything. And the only real reason I would use it would be to tell the sad, disturbing, and sometimes disgusting story that is my life on this here website.

So it comes down to this. I need your help. I need your help in trying to think of something that would be both valuable and useful to me and not lavish in any way. I don’t splurge (unless it comes to beer or the eleven chicken legs I ate on Wednesday). I don’t purchase things just to have something nice (except for those retro Jordan’s which I’ve never worn). I can’t waste money like I do my brain/liver cells. So please, comment and help a brotha out.

UPDATE: The Renter and I went back on Friday night. I had to litterally grind out $100 in profit to which the Renter said I was better than that. Ended up leaving down $450. Fuck. So I made her drive me to Walmart, Pick N Save, and Menards on Saturday because I was still loaded.


Did you catch the photo gallery of Vanessa Hudgens on MSN today?

Don’t feel naughty for checking it out. I didn’t.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Pool League

As I mentioned I got roped in to playing in my bartender’s first week of pool league play. I’m not a great pool player. I don’t even know if you could call me a good pool player. Hell, I lose to the freaking Renter 50% of the time. (By the way, is it worse for a white man to call an asian woman a bitch than if an asian man said it? – way to go Isaiah). Some days I can’t see shit on the pool table. Some days I make unbelievable shots. Well, we had a little of both happening last night.

I went up to the bar around 7:15 while the Renter was getting ready (applying the Halloween mask that she calls makeup – oops, did I say that?). My pool partners were there watching the Brewers game (another win!). We were shooting at a different bar so I had to suck down my pitcher in 30 minutes and catch a ride with the Renter.

Going from the corner bar with five people in it to this other bar with 50 people in it was quite the shocker. I don’t know if it was because this bar was located close to a college or because it was in West Allis or what but there were a lot of people, most wearing sport memorabilia shirts. Being 6’5” came in handy and I spotted my bartender in the back by the pool tables.

You could tell right away that this was no joke. There wasn’t any kidding around or story telling or anything like that; these seven other guys were there to play pool. All eyes were on the pool table.

I ended up batting cleanup (fourth). At first I was glad that I was getting extra time to prepare and warm up for my first game. After fifteen minutes of “preparing” my legs were shaking and my palms were sweating. There was absolutely no fucking around with these guys. Never being short on words myself, I wasn’t sure if I could crack jokes or not so I just sat there not saying anything. I got the Renter to play one game with me on the other table and that didn’t help at all.

And then it was my turn. My first game I played against some guy who had to have been close to 70 and couldn’t even walk well. Yeah, well, he kicked my ass. I went back to my table and sucked down beer with no regard to how many stray cats I was going to fuck that night (‘cause when I’m drunk there’s nothing like a little stray pussy).

My turn came up again 30 minutes later. By this time I was about three pitchers in and feeling a little more confident. Hell, no one on our team had won yet so there wasn’t much pressure on me to get the W. I broke, made one ball, made another ball, and then missed horribly. (Throughout the night I was keeping track of “The Worst Shots of the Night,” which were all made by me of course. One memorable one was hitting the left side of the ball when I was aiming for the right – fuck. Thankfully “The Worst Shots of the Night” count only made it up to three.) My missed shot didn’t leave my opponent with much of a shot so I was up again shortly after that. I don’t know how I did it but I pulled off the win with a tough shot on the eight. My team captain simply smiled and shook his head as he marked down the score. Out of eight games played I was the only one to get a win.

My third turn came with me being four pitchers in. When the team captain asked me to fill in he told me I wouldn’t win a game so I felt absolutely no pressure as I had the only win for the team (still). I kept my beer glass close (in my hand) and paid close attention to the game. And mother fucker, wouldn’t you know it, I won that one too. The team now had two victories and they were both won by the only guy using a bar stick; everyone else had their own cues. (After the game I heard the guy from game #2 tell game #3 guy that he couldn’t make fun of him since I had beaten him too.)

Four pitchers must be the magic number because when my fourth game came up I was on pitcher number five. The fourth game didn’t go that well mainly due to a mental mistake on my part. I was standing there with ball-in-hand and four balls on the table (compared to his one) and made a bad decision. I can only see two shots in so I can plan on what to do with four balls. I ended up losing and that wrapped up the night.

All in all the pool league night was pretty fun. I got to go to a new bar and meet some new people. Even though I probably won’t play with the team again this fall I might have to tag along just for the fun of it. Who knows, maybe someone might accidentally break a finger or something (oops, did I just step on your hand?).

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Pool League

I’m playing in a pool league tonight. Don’t ask me how I got suckered into subbing for someone, I definitely don’t have the pool skills to be playing in a pool league, but I am nonetheless. My bartender buddy roped me in. And then I get this email from the Renter today:

get to the bar at 8pm, you can be the last player giving you enough time to pound down some beer (cuz you play better when you are buzzed).

[Bartender] told me the goal for tonight--get you drunk and keep d. sober for the best performance of out of both of you during this series---lol.

God I love having excuses to drink.

Donovan McNabb’s Rant

McNabb’s supposed to be on HBO tonight. Part of the interview consists of:

"There's not that many African-American quarterbacks, so we have to do a little bit extra," McNabb tells HBO. "Because the percentage of us playing this position, which people didn't want us to play ... is low, so we do a little extra."

Later in the interview, Brown presses McNabb on criticism of his performance -- and if African-American QBs are graded more harshly.

"I pass for 300 yards, our team wins by seven, [mimicking] 'Ah, he could've made this throw, they would have scored if he did this,' " McNabb tells HBO.

"Doesn't every quarterback go through that?" Brown asks.
"Not everybody," McNabb replies.

Brown then asks if the media is tougher on him than on white quarterbacks such as Carson Palmer and Peyton Manning.

"Let me start by saying I love those guys," McNabb tells HBO. "But they don't get criticized as much as we do. They don't."

“They don’t get criticized as much as we do.” Humph. Didn’t Adam Sandler get tasered in Anger Management when he said “What’s wrong with you people?” to the black security guy on the airplane?

So let me ask you, do you have any problems with black quarterbacks? Seriously, do you? You all know that I have a problem with Michael Vick. And I had a huge issue with Daunte Culpepper just because he used to kill the Packers with his passes to Randy Moss and his 10 yard 260 lb rumbles down the field (so this huge issue is actually a complement to Culpepper). Jason Campbell did well enough to secure a Washington Redskin win and poor enough to keep the total under (thank you) in the Monday Night Football game last night. Byron Leftwitch, who has never played a game healthy, has been talking with the Atlanta Falcons and could easily take Joey Harrington’s starting spot. And the number one pick in the draft, JaMarcus Russell, should be in the starting rotation soon once Josh McCown goes 8 for 16 for 73 yards again. Former Nike poster boy Kordell Stewart had his days playing for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Randle Cunningham had a long and successful career. And I’m sure I’m leaving out a whole lot of black dudes who played quarterback in the NFL.

I don’t think black quarterbacks are criticized more than white quarterbacks. I don’t think many black quarterbacks have been criticized more the New York Jet’s fragile quarterback Chad Pennington.

My only question is why they won’t let the white guys carry the ball out of the backfield.

And straight from the mouth of New York Knicks President Isaiah Thomas:

On the tape, Thomas also said that he would find it more offensive if a white male called a black female a "bitch," than if a black male used the same term when speaking to a black female.

Ok, Isaiah, how do you like this one, a white man calling a black man a bitch, you, you, you bitch!

Monday, September 17, 2007

Packers Won – Puke

This title/heading might be a little confusing and I apologize – for now. The Packers won a decent game over the New York Giants. Brett Favre had a good day with 286 yards, 3 touch downs, and just one interception (which was tipped off the receiver’s hands by the way). Good thing, too; their running game is pretty bad. 83 yards on 29 carries = 2.86 yards per carry. If they continue like that they won’t be winning too many games this year. But the 2-0 start is, well, a good start (duh).

Let me jump back to Saturday. I got up to the bar just after the Brewers started. I got the evil eye from the Renter when I changed the main TV from America’s Next Top Model to the game. Seriously, if they had that show on 24 hours a day she’d watch it. I can’t stand it. Unless they’re wearing swimming suits. And I’m home alone. With my pants around my ankles.

The Brewers won a good game with Prince Fielder getting his 46th home run. The game ended right around 9:30 which is when karaoke starts (and you know my feelings on that). I had to usher in church on Sunday so I packed up my shit and left the Renter to talk with another of my ex-girlfriends (or more of a live-in fuck buddy – it’s not like I ever bought her dinner or anything). I got numerous text messages from the Renter. “You can’t leave, I’m going to be bored.” “You suck.” Like my sole purpose in life is to entertain her. I went back home, watched a little football and called it a night around 10:30.

6:45 am my alarm went off waking me up for church. Even though I had gotten a good night’s sleep I don’t think I would have gotten up if it wasn’t for a phone call from pops. I got up, took a shower and picked out the navy blue double breasted suit. Yes ladies, I looked hot!

After church I debated going to the parent’s house to say goodbye to Butthead and grab some grub but they didn’t have any grub so I just went home (sorry Butt but you should know by now where my priorities are at). I got home around 9:30 and didn’t know what to do with myself. I pondered lifting weights for an hour but my empty stomach was telling me that wasn’t going to happen. So I hard boiled some eggs (yet another splendid entree in my vast cooking repertoire), watched some of the NFL pre-game shows and headed up to the bar.

11:00 I had a pitcher of beer in front of me. As you might recall I get to drink beer for free when I’m running the football pools. This Sunday it was almost comical as the bar was pretty dead and I could only fill up one sheet (10 people) for each quarter. So I’d walk around for 5 minutes, collect everyone’s money and get them signed up, and go back to my seat to guzzle down the beer. Pretty sweet deal if you ask me. The free beer along with the free food at halftime – almost better than sex (from what I remember sex being like, it’s been a while).

At one point in the day the manager’s son came over, “Hey, my mom said you wanted to see this.” It was one of those fundraising catalogs with a bunch of over-priced junk in it. But since she had specifically sent him over to see me and since I had been drinking her beer all day for free I signed up for a $9 cheese pizza. See, I ain’t that stupid. I know when to kiss ass when necessary.

With two minutes left in the game I was looking at an empty pitcher. I managed to convince the bartender that since I still had to distribute the winnings of the fourth quarter pool that I was still “on the job” and finagled another pitcher out of her (not that it took much finagling).

We watched the end of the Brewers game and the end of the Cincinnati/Cleveland shootout (wow). By this time the bar had pretty much cleared out and it was just the Renter, myself, and another customer. What do you do when the bar is unbelievably slow? Shots! The bartender and I played one game which I pulled off a win by the skin of my teeth. She poured us both shots of Southern Comfort and we downed them with a little difficulty. Right away she picked up the dice cup and started shaking again. This time I lost. She poured herself a shot of Doctors while I had another Southern Comfort. Normally I can do shots all night long (read: till I get drunk) without a problem. But this one didn’t go down well. No, not well at all. After thirty seconds I knew something wasn’t right. I got up and said I needed some fresh air. The side door was open for ventilation so I headed in that direction. As soon as I stepped on concrete it started coming up – and there was no stopping it. There I was standing on the steps, cars and people going by, and I was puking all over the place. On the steps, on the sidewalk, on the hand railing, pretty much everywhere (I found that puke isn’t picky as to where it lands). It wasn’t technically a bad puke - I think I only had three actual hurls – but when you haven’t puked in years any puke is a bad one. I staggered back inside. “Oh no you didn’t!” Yes, the Renter heard the splatter going on outside. I raced to the bathroom and cleaned up. Thankfully none of it had gotten on my clothes or shoes, just my face and hand (which I think I used to open the door, gross). I sheepishly went back into the bar to the concerned faces of those sitting there. “I don’t know what happened. It’s not like I’m drunk or anything.” And to be honest, I wasn’t drunk. I might have been six pitchers in but if you know me that’s nothing. Bartender, “I’m guessing it just didn’t go down well.” Yes! Thank you for understanding! She went to the door to check out the damage and started filling the ice pail with water to wash it down. I felt like an idiot when she wouldn’t let me clean it up. I left shortly after that with my tail between my legs.

It was a nice fall day outside so I put on my sweatshirt and brought two chairs out on the deck and took a two hour nap. My neck started to hurt so I went inside and fell asleep again on my bed. Around 8:30 the other bartender called me to come up to the bar (I swear if they’re bored I’m at the top of the list). And I can see why he was bored; there was only one other customer in there. We talked about football for a while, the Renter sunk the eight ball at inopportune times twice while we played partners with people I can’t stand, and I left around midnight. I woke up fresh and wide awake this morning and went in to work with a smile on my face.

But now I’m wondering, is the whole puking thing going to happen again the next time I do a shot? Billy Bob kept on trying to get me to play dice games but after the afternoon incident I had to decline. I mean, fuck, I puked after two shots. I puked in front of people walking down the street. I don’t really do shots that often but now that’s going to be in the back of my head every single time. Guess I’ll just make sure the side door is open.

(Oh, I know I posted my football picks on here but when I went to submit them to the “stat tracker” (because we only play for fun because gambling on sports is illegal) I couldn’t remember all of them. I ended up doing Green Bay (yeah Brett!), Pittsburgh (Big Ben), Detroit (Kitna still can’t see straight), Cincinnati (defense?), and St. Louis (offense?). That’s 2-2-1. So I only ended up down a little orange juice.)

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Jessica Alba

Butthead (sister) was home from college for the weekend. In my family the normal method of bonding is watching TV weather it be Seinfeld or Everyone Loves Raymond or movies (actually had to watch a little of the Central Michigan/Purdue game on Saturday - painful). After taking all I could of the pathetic football game I went to see what Showtime had on demand. I stumbled across Into the Blue and figured it would be worth a shot. The movie started out slow (very slow) but picked up after a bit. To be more specific, it picked up right when Jessica Alba donned a two piece and went snorkling. Wow. Some of the views from behind when she was swimming down were just breathtaking. Even my dad made a couple comments (a little gross watching some chicks ass and he makes comments but come on, it's my dad, nothing out of the ordinary here). So, if you have a couple hours to spare I would definitely give it a shot. And, if you watch it by yourself, you can give it a different kind of shot too. Just make sure you're looking at her and not hunky Paul Walker. Oh God, I'm really not gay.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Weekend Activities at a Glance

It’s been three weeks now and I can finally start to comb my short ass hair. The front still stands straight the fuck up (think Pee Wee Herman) but the rest of it is starting to calm down a bit. I’m still wearing the hat at all times when I’m not at work.

Last week Saturday I was watching a little bit of the Boston College game. Jason Mulgrew (linked at the right) just happens to have a blog that I read on a regular basis. He grew up in Boston and graduated from Boston College. I wondered aloud to the Renter if Jason was watching/at the football game. Renter: “Isn’t it weird that we wonder about people we don’t even know? What boring lives we live.” Well, turns out that he was at the game. And even weirder, he watched the Eagles/Packers game at Swandad’s bar, Third and Long (also linked to the right). Swandad said he was serving Jason for most of the day and that he was a pretty cool cat. Quite the coincidence.

Since all you sports fans out there are just dying to know…

I’m going with Pittsburgh -10 against Buffalo, Cincinnati -7 at Cleveland, Green Bay +1 (?) at New York, New Orleans -3 at Tampa Bay, St. Louis -3 against San Francisco, and Detroit -3 against Minnesota. Come Monday we’ll see just how poorly I did.

You all know my love and affection for the greatest breakfast/lunch/dinner food of all time: chicken wings. If I made a top five favorite foods it would be chicken wings, burgers, pizza, mozzarella sticks, and beer (even though beer isn’t a food I included it because if you consume enough of it you can both become full and fulfill your 2,000 calorie diet). Even though I don’t handle dairy products very well mozzarella sticks are still high up on that list. Well, last night I had some mozzarella sticks. Today at work I had a cigarette around 10:30. I felt a little rumble rumble from the gut region, quickly finished the cig and raced back to the office bathroom the whole way praying no one would stop to talk to me or ask me why I looked like I was going to cry. I barely got my pants down when – whoosh – out came the mozzarella sticks. I wiped and walked back to my office with a hint of sweat on my forehead. But I was glad I got that out of my system. Or so I thought. 11:30 I was back in there flushing out my colon with the force of a fire hose. Why I still eat those tasty little suckers I’ll never know. Well, maybe because they are tasty little suckers.

At noon I had two sticks of string cheese (you’d think I would have learned after crapping twice before 11:30). 3:30 I was back on the can. 4:00 I was back on the can. And tonight, fuck, mom’s picking up pizza. Guess I’ll be utilizing the shitter at the corner bar for something other than sex tonight.

(Like I use it all the time for sex…)

Have you ever been volunteered to do something you didn’t want to? Or have you ever been expected to do something that you really didn’t want to do? This weekend my dad was going to go down to Purdue to visit the Butthead (my sister). He was going to drive down and back on Saturday – that’s eight hours of driving. Butthead called me on Tuesday and asked if I was going to come too. But in this case she wasn’t really asking, more implying that I had to come. I got the same shit from my dad. Seriously, I love my sister, but eight hours on the road on one of my two days off each week? I really wasn’t up for it. This made me think of back in the days when mom would volunteer me to work the vacation bible school at my grade school. Oh did I hate her for doing that. She got me to do it for two years but after that I put my foot down even thought she begged me to do it. Two years ago I stopped going to Wisconsin Rapids to see the aunts and uncles for Thanksgiving. Six hours in the car, snow flake reception on the TV, and no cell phone service. And now I’m thirty, grumpy, cranky, and I refuse to do anything I don’t want to do. Thankfully pops drove down and got Buttsmack yesterday so I don’t have to put up with the pressure anymore. Now all I have to do is spend “quality time” with the family this weekend – watching TV.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Go Figure

Just when I write "BLAM BITCHES!!!" I go down to the casino and lose $600. Fuck.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

This Might Explain Everything

Emails from Dad:

Dad: Beware of casserole. I've crapped twice and wiped 20 times. I walk like I've been riding a horse all day.

Me: (no response)

Dad: Make that three times and I could seriously use a tampon.

Me: Huh, I’ve been good so far. But now you have me scared.

Dad: I don't think it was the sweet-tarts or almonds I ate last night. Might be the Wal-Mart salsa. I didn't heat mine to kill the bacteria.

Me: Still haven’t touched that stuff. I’ve had two string cheeses and a bunch of sunflower seeds. Did I say I was going to lift weights last night?

Dad: Yes, that's why you left early. Wanted to get it over so you'd have Saturday free. Butthead has her first Calculus test tonight.

Me: I took a nap at 8:30, woke up at midnight, took out my contacts and went back to bed.

Dad: Ok, fourth time. Feels like I've been wiping with steel wool. I should move to Florida, cuz I think I have a hanging chad.

Now you know where I get it from. I’m not the only mad crapper in the family.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

A Good Feeling

Sunday football, damn.

Actually, I should say football weekend. It started at 12:30 with West Virginia pulling off a strong fourth quarter to beat Marshall (and covering the spread depending on what you got it at). I made eggs for the Renter and I and in the process got egged twice, once in my shirt pocket and once in the back. See what you get when you try to do something nice for someone? Ok, so I did slap her in the face with a piece of raw bacon; I can’t blame everything on her. I called my bartender buddy to “see what he thought” about the Michigan/Oregon game and found out that he was going to open the bar early. Unfortunately he hung up on me before I could “tell him what I thought” about the game (ahem) and I was just too damn lazy to call him back. Let’s just say that I was an Oregon fan. (It was really great seeing the looks on the Michigan fan’s faces as they sat in disbelief watching their team lose yet another one.) After the game was over the Renter and I went to the Saturday $.25 chicken wing bar/restaurant and got caught up in the Brewer’s game. Around 8:30 we left for a different place that had the Badger’s game on and double bubble from 9:00 to 10:00. There’s nothing better than ordering one pitcher and getting two right away. Unfortunately I was tanking fast and couldn’t fully utilize the double bubble. I never really did get to watch the Badger’s game. Even if I squinted really hard I couldn’t make out which team was which. Oh, and then the Renter pissed me off with her whole “why can’t you drive your friend to the hospital at 6:00 am” thing (fuck, 6 am?). I asked her if we could leave, she said she was there to see the game, so I walked out. I made it about two blocks before I heard her yelling at me to get in the car. Seriously, if I’m not having fun somewhere I’ll just get up and leave no matter how far I have to walk home. I don’t put up with a lot of shit. I know; I’m an ass.

And then there was Sunday. Since I “fell asleep” quite early on Saturday I woke up well before my alarm was set to go off at 11:00. I popped my left over chicken wings in the microwave, took a shower, and headed up to the bar. My bartender (“my” makes it sound like I own him, weird) loves spicy food and we devoured what was left from Saturday. During Packer games they have pools where you put in $5 and get a random number between 0 and 9. If you get a 7 and the ending score for that particular quarter is 0-7 or 14-3 you win the pot. Well, G the hairdresser used to run it but for some reason he pushed it off on me last year. Not that I mind; I get to drink for free while I’m running these stupid little pools (that’s right, free beer!). Oh, and you think free beer is cool? Usually the people who win the pool give you $5 for running the pool. I was up $20 for the day before the Packer game wasn’t even over! They had some leftover beans, rice, and meat from the Mexican restaurant for halftime food and I had my share of beans and rice, a whole fucking plate full of nothing but beans and rice. Good shit. The only problem was I had too much. I was stuffed. The free beer stopped going down like the crack whores on North Ave (not that I would know from experience, of course). On Saturday nights they have rail mixers for $2.50. Not so on Sunday. Nope, buddy bartender wouldn’t cut me any slack on the five rum and cokes I had. I guess I shouldn’t complain; free beer for three hours and free food and all. I made it to the end of the Bears/Chargers game (which was a nail biter to pretty much the end but I called it correctly) before it was time to head home.

I’m not exactly sure what happened next. I know I brushed my teeth and took my contacts out. I think I tossed and turned for a couple hours before the Renter and I decided to go to the casino (yes, again). We stopped at the corner bar and I had two more rums and we were off. The rest of the night is really fuzzy. I believe I sat at one table and won $400. I took a break and had two beers at the bar and sat at another table where I pulled off another $450. Pretty fucking sweet, eh? The Renter and I left after that. We made it back home, I got undressed, and wouldn’t you fucking know it; once again all I could do was toss and turn. I jokingly asked the Renter if she wanted to go back to the casino. With lighting quick Asian reflexes she was dressed and ready to go. I was only kidding when I mentioned it but since she got dressed and everything I had to too. Back down to the casino we went. I sat at one table and won $300. That table closed and I sat down at a different table. The new table was the handicapped table (appropriate for me), the one that’s really low to the ground. And it was only a $10 min table; I typically don’t like playing at those tables. It’s not that I’m above a $10 table but you generally get better players at the $25’s and up. However, the two guys I was playing with weren’t too shabby. In no time I was up $400 and left to find an open spot at a $25. By this time it was 3:30 in the morning and they were shutting down most of the tables. I ended up coming back to the handicapped one. I plopped down the $400 I had just won and started playing. Except for the initial little dip I took when I sat down, my chip stack just grew and grew like Ron Jeremy’s penis. Around 4:15 am I decided I was done after I had gone up by $500. I pushed my chips to the dealer, got some black ones in return and left him a $10 tip. $400 + $450 + $300 + $400 + $500 = $2,050. Let me tell you, I’ll lose sleep or go without sleep for a day if you give me $2,050. I didn’t get to sleep till 5:30 since the Renter and I hit George Webbs before heading home. And for those haters out there who think I’m cheaper than a $2 whore (you know who you are, fuckers) I gave the Renter $33 for driving and bought her breakfast. Humph.

Oh, and $2,000 feels really good in your pants pocket. Damn good.

Wait, what was that? You don't believe me?


Saturday, September 08, 2007

Dumbest Thing Ever...

Paris Hilton is suing over the use of her picture and catchphrase "That's hot" on a greeting card. Hilton sued Hallmark Cards Inc. in U.S. District Court seeking an injunction and unspecified damages to be determined at trial.

According to the lawsuit filed Thursday, the card is titled "Paris's First Day as a Waitress" and shows a photo of Hilton's face on a cartoon of a waitress serving a plate of food to a patron. In a dialogue bubble she says, "Don't touch that, it's hot." The customer cartoon asks, "What's hot?" She answers, "That's hot."

The suit says Hilton owns the trademark "That's hot," which was registered on Feb. 13, 2007.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

The FA stopped out last night at the corner bar. His wife and kid were having dinner with my next sex conquest so the FA swung by for the second half of the Brewer's game. I don't know what it is about married life, but the guy just couldn't sit still.

FA: Let's go to [bar down the street]. They migh have some eye candy there.

Me: No, that's ok.

FA: Let's go to the casino.

Me: No, I think I've pushed my luck enough there lately.

FA: How about Silk? (local strip club)

Me: You know I don't like spending money on women unless they're putting out.

I don't know what it was but he couldn't just sit there and watch sports. Oh, and then the fucker took some of my beer! (Don't worry, I think I got him back already. Just wait till his wife reads that he suggested the strip club. She hates strip clubs.) So the FA took off and I ended up playing pool with the bartender/pool mentor (he wasn't working) and Shaky D. Overall it was a good night. The damn Brewer's started at 6:00 so by the time midnight rolled around I was pretty much done.

This morning I found out that old condoms are not good for both having sex and whacking off. I don't know how old it was, my three years old, but it just didn't have any zing left to it. I don't know how it happened but it was like a balloon after you inflate it and let the air out. It just wasn't satisfying.

Oh, and that High School Musical girl? It is ok to look at her nude pic, you know, because she's 18, right? Seriously, that's ok right? Please tell me I'm not alone in this. Oh goodness.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

My Penis Will Be HUGE!!!

Am I the only one who doesn’t know what David Beckham means by “getting his 100th cap?” Uh, I usually get my caps at Wal-Mart. My current favorite cap is the Butler Bulldogs Football cap (covers up the bad haircut – when the fuck is it going to grow?). My parents got it for me when they took my sister to see the campus. A month later they told me they found it in a parking lot. Geez, thanks.

Mother fucking soccer.

Seriously though, last night I was freaking about the house. I went up to the bar and came back home every thirty minutes to check on it. I’m probably just being paranoid. Whoever it was was probably looking for the pot smokers who live in the apartment down the block. Yeah, that’s it.

I still brought an aluminum bat back from the parent’s house.

Made another trip to the casino last night. Started with $600 and slowly whittled it all the way down to $75. Won a couple hands, had a couple blackjacks (one with $75 out there), and after a couple hours I had it up to $900. I would have been kicking myself all day today if I had lost the $600. I think it’s time to take a break from the casino for a while. $1,150 in a week and a half ain’t too shabby. The sad thing is I don’t know where it all went besides on the penis enlargement pills.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007


Low-profile tires on a Jeep? You gotta be kidding me. Awe fuck, just rawlfed all over my keyboard. That’s as bad as a cat raising a dog.

Get that damn cat!

Not exactly sure what "Freedoms are not free" means but I'm an idiot so it doesn't matter.

Yeah, I feel pretty bad for the Michigan football program since they lost to Div I-A Appalachian State last Saturday. Wait, what was that? Wisconsin took over their place at #5? Ok, I don’t feel that bad for them anymore.

Check out Louisville (-40) vs. Middle Tennessee State. I’m liking the Cardinals.

UNLV always gives Wisconsin troubles. I’d take UNLV +26.

But then again I took Florida State (vs. Clemson) on Monday so what the fuck do I know.

(I’m just putting this out there because I know the FA will spend at least a half hour researching both of these games now that I’ve pointed them out. Hour of your life, FA, GONE!)

It was freaking hot in my house tonight. Like 86 degrees hot. And humid. Even the basement, which is usually pretty cool, fuck, even that was hot. I sucked it up and got through the chest, back, and shoulder parts of the workout but the arms, legs, and sit ups will have to wait till tomorrow.

After the workout I went outside to grill some legs and thighs ($.89 a pound!). I took the garbage out, started the grill and noticed some bugs flying in the air. I figured they were just attracted to the deck light. I grabbed the meat and went back out only to find out that those little flying things were little baby blood sucking mosquitoes. What the...? I haven't seen a mosquito all summer long. So I hurried back inside, killed the few that followed me in, and got on the phone with mom. You see, I can't cook unless it's on the grill (or I guess the microwave). And even though mom can't cook in the oven (at least not well) she still knows more about it than I do. 86 degrees in the house and I have the freaking oven on. I don't even know how long this shit is supposed to cook or at what temperature or if it will even be eatable when I'm done with it.

Oh, the timer just went off. I guess "broil" means only the top part heats up. Guess I should have raised the rack up. Oh well. Hey, don't say you never learned something from this site besides how to properly crap your pants and masturbate with a condom on.

And my beers are getting warm every 15 minutes. Good thing I drink them in 15 minutes.

The sad thing is, well, maybe normal for most of you big spenders, is that I think I'm going to have to lock all the windows and (gasp) turn the air on. Over the weekend someone stole two of my brand new Wal-Mart folding canvas chairs. They only cost $10 a piece, no big deal there, but the fact that someone had to walk up eight steps to the top of the deck and then another 16 feet to where the chairs were located bothers me. Who the fuck has the balls to do that? Of course I didn't have the back motion-sensor light on (now I do) but seriously, fuck. And tonight as I was skinning the chicken (thighs are kind of fatty) a car pulled up behind the Renter's on the street and sat there for five minutes till my 80 yr-old neighbor shooed him off. Seriously, I don't have shit to steal in my house. The easiest thing to steal would probably be the Renter's massive 20" TV. I spend nearly all of my free money on beer and cheap vodka. I've already documented how to get in my house but there ain't any shit in it and if I happen to stumble upon you you'll have 230 lbs of furry comin' at ya (just like Cyprus Hill). I used to think my neighborhood was pretty safe but I'm starting to wonder now.

Message to any thieves: You better do you shit now if you're going to. I have a feeling about this new workout (as in I'm liking it). You don't want to come back in four months when I'm 250 (five lbs a month might be pushing it but I think I can do it). Oh, and I don't feel much pain after I've been drinking.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007


I got to the bar pretty much right after they opened on Monday. I watched the Brewers lose another painful one (after being up by three to start the eighth) while consuming my favorite diet food, light beer. After five or so pitchers the Renter agreed to take me down to the casino. I know, I know, I’ve been going there a lot lately but I got the urge after hearing Mr. Karaoke tell me he won $4,000 the night/morning before. So we went. After 20 minutes I was up $250. Yeah, I got up and left. (For the record that’s $500, $100, and $250 in the last week = $850. And of course I only have $250 left in my pocket.) On Saturday we stopped at a downtown bar close to the casino so we decided to do the same on Monday. It was a lot quieter and didn’t have the cool two man band playing but they still had a good atmosphere. Had a good atmosphere. That was until the Renter got mad at me and shouted, “How can you say that when you check out young girls all the time you pedophile!” (Oh no she didn't, girlfriend!) Yes, shouted. When she shouted that five heads turned directly on me. And the looks on their faces were not looks of approval. You know how those pedophiles get treated in the slammer. I don’t even remember what her argument was about. Sure, I might joke about checking out young girls and I might accidentally mistake a girl’s age from time to time but it’s not like I’m going to go out and try to pick up a young’un. It’s not my fault; have you seen the racks they’re sporting now-a-days? They didn’t build them like that back when I was in high school. And it’s not like there are that many hotties walking around Milwaukee, damn heifers. So when I see a hottie I’m going to look; ain’t no stopping that. Hell, I think I only talked to two women total this whole past weekend and lawyer girl and the Renter are much, much older than I am. But God damn, shouting pedophile in a social setting? That’s it; I can never go in that bar again. And she didn’t even feel that she did anything wrong. Just like she didn’t feel she did anything wrong when she announced to the bar what I earn at my job. I just don’t get it.

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Four Day Weekend

So I took off on Friday to make the weekend a little longer with the holiday and all. It's not like I'm going to be doing that much partying (more than usuall) on Monday just because it's a holiday. And besides, the corner bar is going to be open tonight for the first time in months and they're going to have free pool so tonight is going to be the big night. Not like last night wasn't.

Friday I don't remember too much. I had a good two hour workout (which I'm still feeling) and went up to the bar for an excelent all you can eat fish fry (Midwest thing). But Saturday wasn't too bad. Saturday started with a trip to the corner bar's restaurant. I only lasted one pitcher as the mexican music in the background kind of ruined the Badger game so I called the Renter to see if she wanted to go someplace for the game (I won't drink and drive). We ended up at the bar on Greenfield which usually has the suround sound cranked but because the owner wasn't there they didn't have it on. I don't think the broads working there knew how to turn it on. Went back home and made some legs and thighs on the grill ($.89 a pound!) and (gasp) headed down to the casino. After the first shoe I was down $50. Not too shabby. My first six hands were four losses and two pushes. Crap if you ask me. Midway through the second shoe I was up $100 and called it quits. Gave the Renter $20 for driving and headed off to a downtown bar.

It didn't really matter to me what bar we went to but we found one that had a two man band and was pretty hopping. I don't remember the name (loaded) but I was paying $5 for a beer. I would never pay that but I was loaded (think I mentioned that) and I was up $80 so it was all good. I'd been drinking since 2:00 and made it till 11:00. Not too bad.

Today I watched the Brewer's beat the Padres for the series sweep. Too bad the Cubs pulled one off in the bottom of the eigth (fucking flatlanders).

Now, fuck, it's on Sunday and I'm having problems typing. Yes, my friends, I'm loaded, four pitchers in. I have no idea what tonight has in store. I'm guessing another four pitchers, maybe some free pool, and absolutely no sex. There's my life. Pretty fucking exciting, no?