Sunday, April 27, 2008


"This might be wrong on so many levels but you have to go check out the girl at the Pacman machine."

You know me, I jumped up and headed down the hall past the Pacman machine to the bathroom. There she was, 5'9" with an athletic ass covered in white pants. I checked for some nice colored underwear as I walked past. The other bartender followed me shortly after.

"Good golly she's got a nice ass."

Well, the fact that she was playing the Pacman machine should have told me something.

After I got back she was looking at the stuffed animal machine. By this point all four guys in the bar were straining their necks to get a look. Then the Renter stepped in.

"I'm going to go ask her how old she is."

The Renter got up and headed toward the door. I got up and headed for the other door.

"I'm going to guess that you're not 18."

"Why do you ask?"

"All the guys next door are checking you out. So, how old are you?"

"I just turned 14."

Yeah, I felt a little bad, maybe even a little dirty. But let me tell you, they didn't make them like that back when I was 14.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Hot Ass

On Friday I went to the parent's house as usual for dinner. Mom had made some Mexican pizza thing that had little to no flavor. I went in the fridge and grabbed some hot sauce. At least then the shit was almost worth eating.

10:00 I started to get some stomach pains. 10:30 I was on the shitter. 10:33 I was gingerly dabbing at what used to be my asshole. The shit came out like it was on fire. It felt like I might as well have dropped my drawers and applied the hot sauce directly on my ass. Hell, it felt like I'd stuck the bottle up my ass and squeezed it empty. It almost made me come to tears.

On Saturday I checked the bottle of hot sauce. The expiration date was 8/06. Chucked that shit in the garbage.

I'm sending mom a bill for some new underwear.

Lending a Helping Hand

Offering to help with something and consequently being yelled at (seriously, yelled at) 20 seconds later for bringing it up, well, it doesn't really make you very much inclined to offer help at a later date; quite the opposite.

(the vagueness of this post might give you a clue as to where this took place)

Consulting Fees

"You know what you should do?"

"No, what?"

"You should become a consultant. Some of those people get paid like $125 an hour."

"Tell me about it, consultants are such a rip off."

"Scooter, would you pay him $125 an hour for a blow job?"

"Wait a minute here, if it only lasts five minutes that's only like ten bucks!"

After I said that I realized I was complaining about only getting ten bucks instead of $125 to blow some guy. That, my friends, is what happens when you hang out at an establishment where the waiters are gay and the bar staff is questionable. I need to get some new pussy pretty soon here.

Thursday, April 24, 2008



Just To Let You Know...

...I'm trying to figure out how to blog from my phone now that I have internet access on it. If I get it right you should be seeing more shit on here. If not, you might just get more pictures of actual shit.

Yes, I'm a sick puppy.

Douche Breath

I was taking a shit at home the other day. Of course the dog has to be right next to me (I'm her favorite). In between grunts and pushes I noticed that the dog was chewing on something behind me. I turned around; it was one of the Renter's douches. I guess I shouldn't be surprised from an animal that will eat it's own poo.

Monday, April 21, 2008

State of WI Taxes

Ok, so I mailed my state taxes back on March 4th. I haven’t gotten the refund check back yet but no big deal; didn’t get it till the beginning of May last year. But here’s the kicker: they can’t even tell me if they’ve received my return because they don’t have a tracking system in place. Huh? They can’t even tell me if they’ve received it? So how am I supposed to know if some postal worker went, well, postal on my return and decided to wipe his ass with it? And here we are, after April 15th, and I’m starting to sweat not because of something that I did but because the Wisconsin Department of Revenue can’t tell me anything about my return. So what the fuck am I supposed to do? Mail it again? Go on their website and submit it electronically? Send it in eight times just to confuse the hell out of them? (hmm, would I get multiple checks back?) This proud expensive puppy owner sure could use that check along with the economic stimulus check.

Next year I’m going to e-file it straight up their asses.


My uncle passed away recently and I had to go the funeral in La Crosse last week. It’s like a three and a half hour drive and it rained pretty much the whole way. Dumb ass me wore my usual work clothes (dockers, checkered “accountant” type shirt) and everyone else there had suits and ties on. Right off the bat I felt a little out of place. And while that half of the family is pretty cool and normal I don’t get to see them too often and don’t know them all that well. The last time I was in the area was for my aunt/uncle’s 50th wedding anniversary two years ago.

My cousins are all in their 40’s and have multiple kids. I’m 31 and consider my penis my baby. While they can tell hunting and fishing stories for hours I’ve only killed rabbits in the backyard and don’t even like touching fish. As you can imagine I don’t tell them too many of my stories. “Yeah, last summer I caught a 43” northern!” “Yeah, last fall I took a day off just so I could whack off six times!” Nope, wouldn’t fly.

I’ve only been to seven funerals my whole life. Four were my grandparents but those were a long time ago. One was my old roommate’s brother but I didn’t know him too well. Another was a friend’s father, didn’t know him either. Then there was my old vacation friend whose father passed away. That one got to me a little more than the others (you’d think the grandparents would). I spent lots of time sitting on the beach talking with him listening to stories about the war and other vacation trips he had taken. Good man, hated to see him go.

And then there was my uncle’s funeral.

First you have to understand me. Usually I’m emotionally detached keeping my distance from anything like a relationship. I haven’t cried over a woman in the past ten years (except for those tears caused by vaginal odors wafting towards my nose). Then there’s the other side of me that cried watching Dan in Real Life. Yeah, I don’t get it either.

Why I just got a little 4lb puppy I have no fucking clue. Who can’t get emotional over a puppy that follows you around and pretty much depends on you for everything?

Anyway, sitting there in the church I remembered the fishing trips my father and I would go on with my uncle when I was a little kid. My uncle knew every hot spot within 50 miles of La Crosse. He set us up one time in this little cove where I’d toss my line out and within ten seconds I’d have something on the line. It was almost too easy (hell, if I could do it…). He’d take me on his snowmobile and cruise around. Always the nicest guy, always joking around. Even at the 50th wedding anniversary he was joking about the golf ball sized tumor that was on his liver.

His oldest son spoke at the funeral. He talked about how his dad was not only his dad but a friend. How he had raised his kids with a firm hand but yet was always there for them if they needed something. How he and his wife spent 52 great years together.

The pastor talked about how my uncle was a mentor to many of the church’s confirmands.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the whole church, including mine.

I actually moped around for most of the weekend. I didn’t really feel like doing much after all that. As soon as I got home I showered and headed up to the bar for some serious drinking. All I could think about were all the good times I got to spend with my uncle. Oh, and my dad’s comment: you better wear a suit to my funeral.

Yeah, I don’t think I could go through that. Time to step up the drinking. It’s a race to the finish, mom and pop.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

If the Environment Fails Us... can blame me.

I just did dishes for an hour and a half. I can honestly say I wouldn't have minded if I was getting paid for it but seriously, fuck.

I'm buying plastic forks, spoons, and knives, paper plates and bowls. My garbage will be full of shit just because I don't like cleaning.

Going "green" only happens on St. Patrick's Day for me.

Monday, April 14, 2008


The old roommate and I used to do a toast every month or so when ING would send out an email telling us they were raising the interest rate on their money market account. Well, as you could imagine, I haven’t gotten one of those in quite some time. Actually, I haven’t heard shit from them at all. I recently went online and saw that the interest rate was down to 3% which really isn’t all that bad but still. If they increase the rate and send me an email shouldn’t they have sent me something on 9/19, 11/1, 12/13, 1/23, 2/1, 3/11, and 3/19 when they lowered the rate? Bastards. Dear blog readers, I promise I won’t do this to you. I will not tell you only the good aspects of being a tall, good looking young man who drinks too much (ok, all of that might not be true).

If I fuck a fat bitch I’ll let you know.

The Little Puppy is Interfering…

…with my personal interaction with the well endowed ladies of the adult video industry. It’s not like I can just whip it out and start beating it with the little dog sitting there with its head cocked to the side looking at me inquisitively. I’ve done it once in the 15 days I’ve had Molly. That one time was like the 4th of July. After nine days off I was surprised at how much I had stored up. Splooge just kept flying out like water out of a garden hose.

(I hope none of you were eating when you read that, sorry. But hey, ladies, if you’re in to face painting, trust me, I’ve got you covered.)

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Guess Who Pooped and Peed Outside Today!

No, not me, you fuckers. Molly did both for the first time today. Granted she might have stepped in the poo after the deed was done but so what, it was outside and I tossed her on the Renter's bed to clean off her feet. (Technically I'm not sure if she stepped in the poo. I had been awake for all of two minutes and I didn't have my contacts in. But the dog did get tossed on the Renter's bed for one of those traditional "Hi, it's me! Wake up! Smell my poopy feet!" And if it wasn't already a tradition I think it should become one.)

But seriously, fuck, I never thought a little four pound dog would change my life so much. Gone are the days of hitting the bar right after work and stumbling home at midnight. No, I have to take the dog out, make sure she eats, try to wear her out a little (FA, I meant by playing, not the way you wear your dog out), and maybe get three pitchers of beer in later on (and that's a big maybe, lately it's been only two). Then when I get home I have to take the dog out again and try to tire her out so she doesn't toss and turn in bed. Four pounds of puppyness has put a damper on my drinking career, kind of like a basketball player who loses a hand (can anyone say chest pass?).

Oh, and did I mention anything about getting up an hour before my alarm goes off? Yes, thank you puppy, I really didn't need anymore sleep. Of course if she's up I have to get up, get dressed, take her outside, and then by that point I'm fucking awake and complaining about it on my online journal (please don't call it a diary!).

So being a dog owner has probably changed my life in a good way. I'll have to take her out to LA with me so Paris Hilton and I will have something in common and can hang out and I can test out that hard-anal-sex-with-celebrities theory of mine.

Wonder if Snoop out in Cali can hook me up with one of those girls from the [MTV "reality" show where all the bitches have the riches].

(Did you check out the Audrina Patridge photos yet?)

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Is This What George W. Bush Had In Mind...

...when he signed in the Economic Stimulus Package?

Friends, meet Molly. Molly is a Yorkshire/Maltise mix (or something like that, she's so cute it doesn't even matter what she is). Molly's about 12-14 weeks old and weighs a whopping four pounds. Molly likes to run, jump, and play, and poop and pee in the house. Not exactly house trained yet. But you can't get mad at a face like that.

I've gotten shit for this one, looks like I'm choking her. Little shit wouldn't hold still.

Oh, and George buddy, er, Mr. President, that check better be coming in the mail. Molly wasn't cheap.

But she has saved me at least $40 in bar tabs so far (actually $50). Almost works out as a reverse economic stimulant.

Tom Crean

Bob of the "Bob and Brian Show" on 102.9 FM said it best:

(not an actual quote, just what I remembered of if driving in this morning)

Having Tom Crean leave Marquette is like having your dad tuck you in at night and then the next morning you see him on TV with a different woman he's calling his wife and a different little kid he's calling his son and he's giving your puppy to the new kid.

That about explains it.