Beautiful Girls/B-Day

On Saturday the Renter asked me to not go to my mom’s house for dinner on Monday. I always go to my mom’s house for dinner on Monday’s. It’s the first day of the week and I get one of the two days I go over there out of the way right away. So I’m like what the fuck, does the Renter want to play tic tac toe or something instead? Then on Sunday mom called and said she had something to do on Monday. Fine, no big deal.

I got home on Monday and let the puppy out. I was making some cigarettes when the Renter walked in. “I thought you were going to your mom’s after work?” “She cancelled.” After making my stash for the night I changed and went downstairs to lift weights. I flipped on ESPN and got a little caught up in the Baylor/Duke women’s game. That Brittney Griner is something else (40 min, 15 pts, 11 rebs, 9 blks, 35 altered shots). Anyway, it was back/bicep night. These nights tend to take a while mostly because I am doing everything in my basement. When I’m doing wide grip chin ups (or any chin up for that matter) I only have one weight setting with which to do them – 230 lbs. Towards the fourth and fifth sets I’m only getting five or so reps in so I have to do a multitude of sets in order to get a decent number of reps in. Usually I like doing the big body exercises like chest, back, and shoulders but lately I’ve forced myself to include a number of bicep/tricep moves so I pumped off six or seven sets of various curls.

During my workout the Renter came downstairs looking for clean clothes. I noticed she had her hair all done up. Little odd for a Monday night but then again she isn’t completely normal.

After my workout I went upstairs and changed. (My workouts go set-two minutes rest-set, so it’s not like I get all sweaty and shit.) I took the puppy around the block for her 6:00/7:00 poop and put her in her kennel. While I was lifting weights I was starting to dread going to the bar on my birthday. Somehow everyone seemed to know it was my birthday even though I hadn’t told anyone. I like to keep that kind of stuff on the down low. So I thought maybe I’d stop up there for two pitchers and head home, avoid the whole karaoke crap. Only problem was I drank my last Bud on Sunday and didn’t have any beer in the house. Then the light bulb turned on. The Renter’s car was on the street. I could be a nice guy and put her car in the driveway – after a quick trip to the liquor store! I picked up a 30-pack of Natty Light and a lottery ticket from the store and drove home.

I thought about taking the puppy for a long, long walk to delay going to the bar. Like I said, everyone knew it was my birthday and I really wasn’t looking forward to it.

I went anyways.

Upon walking in the door it seemed like everything was the same as usual. It wasn’t until the bartender started pouring me a beer from the far left tap – most certainly not the Miller Lite knob. “What are you pouring me?” “Lite, your beer.” Then I saw he had a plastic cup on the top of the tap. They usually only do that if it is out or if the beer is paid for by a party. Then I saw the birthday balloons on all the tables. Then I saw the eggs rolls (my favorite!) and sloppy joe mix. I guess the Renter had arranged a little get-together. In attendance: the FA, the old roommate, Too Tall, Squeaks, Ge-offry, Mr. Suess, Yellow, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Fix-it and his woman, Billy B and the Walking Man. It was like a scene out of Beautiful Girls when Sharron Cassidy dragged Tommy “Birdman” Rowland to the VFW because she had to pee – only to be surprised with a birthday party (and if I reference Beautiful Girls, my favorite movie of all time, you know it was a big deal). Everyone was eating, drinking and having a grand time. I wish I could tell you how many shots I did but, alas, I lost track. I can tell you it wasn’t just one shot from each person but multiple shots. One of my friend looked at me. “Do you usually do shots?” I shook my head no but I sure as hell wasn’t going to pass them up. The Walking Man even gave me a bottle of Jagermeister which, while not my favorite, will most certainly be consumed this summer. All in all it was a good time.

I don’t remember leaving.

I don’t remember taking the puppy outside.

But I did make it to work today and had some leftover egg rolls for breakfast!!!

Yahoo! Personals, 3/30 Edition

Mary, Mary, quite contrary. What do those fun bags look like in the open airy?

Lack of Motivation/Larry Bird

Lately I’ve been going through a major spell of lack of motivation in my personal life. I just don’t have the motivation to do anything that I have on my list of things to do after I get off work. I think there might be one thing that I regularly keep to on my schedule and that’s lifting weights on Tuesdays. I normally don’t have dinner with mom or have anything else scheduled right after work so I’m able to hit the weights in the basement at 5:30 and get to the bar at 6:30 in time for some beer and tacos before the 8:00 pool league starts. How’s that for motivation?

I don’t know what started it but I have an inkling that it was porn. One Saturday I managed to successfully download two full length porn movies on to my computer. Oh and were they good ones, too. My main reason of downloading porn is to put it on my cell phone (because everyone needs 18 hours of porn on their phone). After I transferred the three new hours of porn I found that they wouldn’t play. They worked fine on my computer and I’ve never had a problem like this before. I checked the available memory on the phone and everything looked fine. With no explanation of why they wouldn’t play I became dejected and maybe a little depressed.

(Usually I can figure out why things like this don’t work, like when I sent myself a 2007 Word document that I couldn’t open at home. But this time, no such luck. Also note that there are many instances where I just suck and need someone to do it for me, like paying a friend $10 to hang an outside light fixture because I don’t like playing with electrical wires. I used to be able to install an aftermarket CD player in a car in under an hour but AC house wires scare the fuck out of me. That more than likely stems from an incident when I was in second grade and went to plug in the Christmas tree lights and my fingers slipped from the plastic to the metal prongs and I got a pretty good jolt.)

After spending a good five hours trying to get the porn on my phone I felt defeated. Besides the time-to-spare Tuesdays, lifting weights on the other week nights just took away from beer time. Once I even went straight to the bar after work and then felt majorly guilty leaving the puppy in her kennel for so long. (That guilt actually turned into me having “just one more” twice that evening.) The weekends weren’t any better. There are a number of outside yard related things that I should get done but keep putting off. The Jeep could use its first wash and wax of the year but I keep telling myself it will be warmer out next weekend. My room and bathroom could use a good cleaning but nobody sees my bedroom and very few people see the brown fungus growing in the toilet. I do manage to lift weights on both Saturdays and Sundays but again that’s probably due to the guilty feeling that builds during the week. The bar doesn’t open till later on those days so I generally lounge around watching TV till an hour before they open and then lift weights. Even then the weight sessions aren’t the greatest. Instead of doing three-four chest exercises I’ll stick with one and do it for ten sets – never changing the weight, mind you. Last Sunday I did five sets of shoulder shrugs just so I could convince myself that I was getting in a good workout (and yes, my neck is very sore today).

The upcoming weeks are going to be very trying as far as all this is concerned. While it was 40 degrees today it’s supposed to get up to 70 on Thursday. 70 degrees means sitting on the deck and consuming as many beers as humanly possible while the little puppy gets as much fresh air as caninely possible. Baseball starts in a week. The Brewers typically start their games at 6:00 which means a very quick workout (if at all) in order to be ready (cooler filled) for the start of the game. Add to that the corner bar will probably be closing as it goes under new management so I’ll probably want to be up there, too. The possibility of the bar closing and the July 5th no-smoking law will more than likely make me clinically depressed.

But as of today I am officially older, possibly wiser, and definitely thirstier. I am set to handle all these challenges in stride as I embark on my “Larry Bird” year of life. This will be the year where I no longer leave scrapes and scabs on my face as I fall walking home. This will be the year where I control my bodily functions to the point where I only pee and poop my pants twice (that’s four total incidents). Yep, this year is going to be a doozy.

Do they have internet service in prison yet?

Bump on the Head

Since the Renter had her stomach surgery she gets winded pretty easily. So I suggested she lift weights with me. I had her doing some dumbbell shoulder presses when she pushed it too far and ended up dropping the 25 lb dumbbell on her head. And of course its my fault because the lightest dumbbells I have are 25 lb. Sheesh.

Yahoo! Personals, 3/25 Edition

Check out Cynthia from Chicago. Cynthia is 25 and not afraid to note that she's unemployed and lives with her parents. I just hope her parents are heavy sleepers and don't wake up as Cynthia and I practice the art of baby making.

2010 Census

I received my 2010 census info in the mail about two weeks ago. I opened it, flipped through it and left it on the counter. Yesterday I spent 20 minutes looking for it before the Renter said she through it in the garbage. No big deal, right? I can just go on the 25 year old invention known as the internet and answer the questions online.

Little did I know they aren't equipped to handle online entries. It's 2010 people. Buck Rogers and his robot friend Twiki were more advanced back in 1979.

By the way, cleaning out the parents' house I found my Buck Rogers lunch box from when I was in grade school complete with the thermos inside! I'm going to sell it on ebay for millions!

Devon James

Just another porn star that Tiger Woods fucked (and who I'll have to "look up" as soon as I get home). I'm actually sort of surprised this kind of shit keeps popping up in the tabloids. I figured he would have offed everyone he had stuck his penis in by now, including his caddie.

Slimming Fathead, Oxymoran?

I don't mind having our Playboy Playmates airbrushed for my "viewing" pleasure but Prince Fielder? Come on! If I'm buying a Prince Fielder Fathead I'd like it to actually look like the Brewers powerful first baseman and not some 240 pound replica.

NCAA Tournament

I like to think I know a lot about college basketball. Since the football season ended I've watched no less than four hours of college basketball every day. Granted, most of those games have been from the ACC, Big East, Big Ten and SEC conferences - with a splash of late night WCC games. So when the NCAA tournament rolls around I know a a little about half the teams that are playing. Teams like UTEP, Siena, and Morgan State, not so much. Sure, I can look up their rosters to see how tall they are and how experienced the players are but other than that I'm pretty much in the dark. Having spent so much time watching games you'd think I'd do well at picking teams in the NCAA bracket.

It never pans out.

After watching Georgetown go all the way to the final game in the Big East tournament you'd never think they'd lose to Ohio in the first round.

Tennessee should have beaten San Diego State by more than three.

Vanderbuilt losing to Murry State?

Notre Dame on a Big East hot streak only to lose to Old Dominion?

That being said, this is the first year since high school that I didn't fill out a bracket. I didn't even look at a bracket. Sure, I checked the point spreads of all the games to make individual wagers but that's as far as I went. It just pains me to put in all that time and effort filling out a bracket only to see that all my "expert" knowledge goes right down the tubes the first two days of tournament action.

Instead I put my infinitesimal knowledge on a number of wagers.

Notre Damn -2 (L).
Vandrebuilt -3 (L).
Marquette -1 (L).
Morgan St. +17.5 (L).
Clemson -1 (L).

Good track record so far. I did have a couple winners in there.

Xavier pick (W).
Morgan St. under 138 (W).
Texas A&M -3 (W).

The whew/shucks game was Tennessee -3 which I had a little more action on and ended up pushing.

I hope to do better in the second round.

But the thing is, not filling out a bracket has taken some of the fun out of the tournament. I've taken off of work the Thursday and Friday of the opening games the last ten years. I've always had a sheet in front of me with X'sand O's leading up to the final game. This year I don't have one. I'm not that interested in who wins the whole thing. I'd like to see DeMarcus Cousins cry when Kentucky loses to Kansas in the final but other than that I could care less. Cousins has millions waiting for him this summer.

To the rest of you who have filled out brackets I wish the best of luck to you. I'm just looking at 15 days till baseball starts.

Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader Fathead

If you had the opportunity to have wild raunchy sex with a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader and you also had the opportunity to buy a life size poster of her to put in your bedroom/basement to remember or relive the moment, you'd buy one, right?

Out of the four cheerleaders available on Fathead.com only Becca Gambel is sold out. What does that tell you?

I'll give you her number for $5.

$100, Two Hours

Last night, up $800, I didn't mind missing out on a little sleep. Leaving up $100 and only getting two hours of sleep, while being a self-confessed cash whore, seems like a less than ideal situation.

Winner By A Nose...

That was me on Friday night. After numerous pitchers and one "shot specials" promotional sign down, I managed to stumble home, trip over my own feet and slam the bridge of my nose on a concrete step - otherwise known as my front door. And you better believe it hurt like a mother fucker. I even briefly considered just lying there it hurt so much. But I had the Puppy on the leash (good thing I didn't land on her!) so I willed myself to get up off the ground and make it into the house.

I now have a scab the size of a nickel between my eyes.

This kind of shit happens all the time to me. The last time I had a facial injury was less than six months ago. Today I think I'll go on Riddell.com and see if I can buy a football helmet for cheap. I can't keep on bruising up this pretty face of mine.

God I feel retarded some times.

Crack/Pimple

Is it possible to have a pimple on one butt cheek, like in the first display, reproduce and create a second pimple on the other butt cheek while you sleep at night? If it's never happened before maybe I should contact the Guinness guys...

...or a dermatologist.

1-17

DePaul's record in the Big East and they get to play in the conference tournament? Fucked up or no?

Casino/Spill

Went to the casino after a goodly night of drinking. The last time I went there all f-ed up they saw me walking serpentine in the parking garage and wouldn't let me in. Fine with me, probably saved me $500. But this time the Renter pulled into the valet station and we avoided the long staggering walk. Got in no problem.

We found a $15 table that was open right away. I rarely play $15 but its nice to be able to bet low when the table goes bad. As far as winning/losing I was pretty much even most of the night. I had one exciting streak where I had turned my initial $500 into $1,300 but that was short lived. During those ten minutes I couldn't lose. My bets increased to $150 and most came back winners. But as all streaks go, this one eventually ended. Unfortunately my big bets didn't stop at the same time. I think the beer might have had something to do with that.

The embarrassing point of the night came when I went to waive off a 17 and knocked over my full beer bottle. Worse yet I was way loaded and sat there and watched it pour out before the dealer picked it up. I'm surprised they didn't kick me out right then. Ended up leaving with an extra $100 in my pocket but the loss of sleep took a toll on me. Getting to the casino at 12:00 and leaving at 6:00 in the morning, daylight, takes a toll on your body. I wright this now sitting at the corner bar nursing a pitcher and looking through cloudy contacts. I tried to play pool but it just wasn't working. I guess I'll try to force some beer down and maybe I'll feel better. Peace out blog world.

Getting Settled (Finally)

Don’t tell my parents this but they are probably the main reason for my consumption of 168 ounces of beer per night habit (at least this is what I like to tell myself). If they aren’t/weren’t the main reason they most certainly are now after countless nights thinking about life at a .18 state of sobriety – or lack of sobriety.

I think it started when I was in college. I should have picked up as many shares of 3M as I could afford. It was about that time when the main line of communication between my parents was Post-it notes. Without going through all the details (like me moving out and my dad taking up residence in my old room) things gradually progressed to the point of dad moving out in the summer of 2008, divorce proceedings finalized in the summer of 2009, and most recently the sale of their house. I’ve tried to stay out of it as much as possible.

Dad’s been ok I guess, being the one to file for the divorce and moving all of his possessions out of the house while mom was at work one Saturday. Seriously? Could you imagine coming home on a sunny Saturday to find a note that says “I moved out.”? I thought that was a bit harsh and haven’t had too much contact with him since. Unfortunately for some reason he likes to swing by my house, unannounced, with his new woman at least twice a year. Yeah, just peachy.

Mom on the other hand has not been doing too well. A year after he moved out I finally got it across to her that I didn’t want to hear anything of it, how he screwed her and had everything planned out and left her in limbo. The exit strategy sucked and could have been handled differently but both their actions led to the separation.

Now, in this terrible housing market, the house finally sold. I think she has till the end of the month to move out. I repelled numerous “Where do you see me living?” questions. “A house, a condo, or an apartment?” Senior home. I secretly prayed that she wouldn’t buy a house. If a light bulb goes out she has me fix it. I wasn’t looking forward to doing that kind of shit for the next who-knows years. She did end up putting in an offer on a house but gave up after the price negotiations went south. Going up in price by $2,000 only to be rebuffed with a $500 decline will do that. So finally she settled on an apartment with two bedrooms and underground parking. Probably the best option in my opinion. Maybe not the best option financially, throwing rent money out the window and all, but remember, this is my opinion. I don’t feel the need to do yard work/maintenance on two properties.

The sad thing, after all this had been settled and it appears she’s heading in the right direction, I was asked this question, “Do you think he’d come back if I asked him too?” Without any hesitation I gave her my answer. Delusional. This is what I have to put up with. This is why I drink. This is why I have a roommate and numerous acquaintances, few of which I would actually give the label “friend” to. I don’t like getting close to people. My sex life consists of porn and one night stands. 99.5% porn, .5% women who for I-have-no-idea-why think I’m cute and might call them the next day.

Writing all this tripped a trigger in my head – I need to pick up beer on the way home. Thank you, dear blog that sucks worse and worse as time goes on with absolutely nothing funny on it anymore, for reminding me, in a depressed state, that I need to pick up beer.

Yahoo! Personals Hotties For Your Viewing Pleasure

The chick with the glasses and boobs galore is my personal favorite.

=SUMIF(C3:C29,"FEDERAL",B3:B29)

A little formula in Excel I learned today. And I turn 33 this month. Should have known this coming out of college. Actually, I probably did, just one of the few (ahem) things I've forgotten in the past ten years.