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.

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?


BLAM BITCHES!!!

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.

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.

Photos/Heat

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.

Pedo-what?

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.

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?

Old Roommate

The old roommate (OR) swung by the bar the other day.

OR: Hey, do you ever go on Craigslist?

Me: No, not really.

OR: You should check out all the women who put ads on there for sex.

Me: What?

OR: Yeah, the women will post an ad describing what they do and how much they charge for different things or they have an hourly rate.

Me: Do they have pictures of themselves?

OR: Yeah, sometimes they look pretty damn hot.

Me: How much were they charging?

OR: Most of them were like $150 an hour.

Me: That doesn’t sound too bad.

(Sadly, I’ll admit that I’ve paid more, but that was in Cancun where it was legal. And I was drunk and had problems keeping it up. Yeah, money well spent.)

OR: Some charge more for the GFE.

Me: GFE?

OR: Yeah, girlfriend effect. You know, they’ll kiss and cuddle just like a real girlfriend.

Me, looking at the Renter: The guy’s got the lingo down and everything.

For a guy who’s supposedly never had sex before…

OR: Oh, and I’ve been seeing a lot of prostitutes downtown lately.

Me: Like where?

OR: I was out with [someone I don’t know] at [bar downtown] and the two girls, nice looking girls too, were mingling with the crowd. The came up to us and hinted at paying for sex.

Me: Wow, I’ve never seen that before, not in a big bar like that.

OR: Me neither. And there was this other time at [another bar] where these two black chicks were doing the same thing giving out their phone numbers to a couple of guys. I overheard them talking in more detail about what they wanted.

Me: Black girls? Now you have my attention.

OR: Yeah, the first two I told you about were black too.

All this talk got me to thinking about how long it’s been. It’s been a long time. Not that I’m going to go out and get a hooker. I might have to start trying to woo a woman back to my house one of these days. It just seems like too much work with the flirting and the lying and the trying to seem interested crap. And I’ve been kind of lazy lately.

What was that? You think it’s wrong to lie to a girl to get her to go home with you? Well, my friends, back in the day I was good at it. Damn good if I must say so myself. You don’t get your name put up on the board at your local tavern that says “Don’t go home with anyone named B to the…” for nothing. And I don’t know if I’d actually call it lying, just bending the truth a little. I wouldn’t lie about my occupation or anything like that. I’d just bend the truth to make myself appear to be a nice guy (ha!) and that I’d make a good boyfriend (ha, ha!) and that I was truly interested and would call them the next day (complete bullshit). I don’t know if you consider that lying or just playing the game. In any case, I won the game on many occasions.

Now I just whack off every day in my basement watching porn that I downloaded five years ago. I win those battles of tug of war every time.

Jessica Barton

So I went on Nick Hogan's Myspace page just to see if he had posted anything about how he was doing or what have you and noticed one of his "friends." Jessica Barton, wow, she must have 50 pics on her Myspace page. Damn.

(Her page takes a while to load up but let me tell you, it's worth it.)

Nick Hogan

Did you see the picture of Nick Hogan's Toyota Supra after he crashed it?


Supposedly he was racing a Dodge Viper. I guess he had the engine stoked out to 1,000 hp. Damn.

Workout

I’m like a woman trying to decide on what to wear when it comes to working out. Ever since I quit the gym I’ve been up in the air with how to structure my workouts. When I was going to the gym it was pretty easy. I only had 40 minutes of actual gym time after you included the walk to and from and toweling off afterwards so I was basically forced to do one body part a day. This seemed to work fairly well for me. The only problem I’m facing now is getting motivated to work out when the Brewers and Monday Night Football and as much beer as I could possibly want are a block away. I went to the gym during my lunch time so it was either workout and check out the college girls (and the 39 yr-old) or sit at my desk and think about college girls – I rarely skipped the gym. That kind of workout lost its structure if you didn’t do it every day which is the dilemma I’m facing now. After a lot of thought this past weekend I’ve decided to try lawyer girl’s boyfriend’s workout – every body part three days a week. I don’t even know if I can do this yet with the minimal sleep I get and the countless ounces of beer that flow through my veins but I’m going to try it. Tuesdays are really slow at the bar. And while I like it when it’s a little slow Tuesdays are just too much. So that was an easy choice for a workout day. Usually by Thursday I’m just wiped out from work and my lifestyle and don’t go to the bar so that was my second choice. You should see my weekend schedule. I never have anything planned. Never. It’s awesome (oh, by the way, I found this description for awesome: A fringe sexual act where one party places their big toe in the others anus. This act might result in a blown starfish, blown o ring or ass tulip. 1. I awesomed her while she was up on blocks. Who the fuck thinks up this stuff?). Since I have the Sunday Pool Crew come over on, you guessed it, Sundays, and since I really like sticking my hand down my pants while I was TV on Sundays, Saturday was the obvious choice for day number three. Tonight’s the first day. About a month ago I tried a set up like this for one day and almost died in my basement. I actually counted up the number of sets and reps and come up with the number of pounds I had lifted (32,000 if you don’t count the shoulder shrugs, 44,000 if you do). I’ve posted a copy of what I’m going to attempt to do tonight. You can see I have eight rows going across the page. Everything in each row will be superset – row #1 will be a set of flat bench followed by a set of chins – working your way down the sheet just like you’d read a page. (Now that I’ve typed this I realize it’s impossible to do chins while the rack is set up for bench pressing – fuck!) Anyway, hopefully I can 1) actually do this workout and 2) stick to a three day a week plan. I think it’s going to be easier than planning to workout every night, have something come up, feel like shit because you didn’t work out, manage to make an excuse not to work out the next day, get even more depressed because you didn’t work out, and eventually come to the point where you justify masturbation as an actual exercise. Even though you might be panting, sweating, and tired after whacking off (at least I am), it’s not an actual exercise and certainly won’t do anything for your non-dominant arm.

Sunflower Seeds

I was watching TV on Sunday when out of the corner of my eye I saw the Renter lean over the coffee table. She was spitting out something that looked like the pencils you used to chew in grade school.

Me: What is that?

Renter: Sunflower seeds. I don’t know why you like them, it takes forever to eat them. You have to chew them all up and suck the juices out.

Me: You chewed up the shells too?

Renter: Yeah, isn’t that the way you do it?

Me: Ha, ha, ha! No, you put them in your cheek, crack them open with your teeth and spit out the seed.

Renter: How was I supposed to know there was a special way to eat sunflower seeds?


I wonder if she eats a hot dog starting in the middle?


A little while later…

Renter: Huh, they taste better if you do it your way.


Wait, I shouldn’t say hot dog in front of her. She’s from Korea. Hot dog might translate to a canine that’s been nuked.

Bartender Affair - Kaput

Sadly, my torrid love affair with the 18 yr-old bartender is coming to an end. The Sunday nights of her pouring out her love (beer) for me will be no more. No more hours spent ogling her luscious boobies as she does the dishes in front of me. It was a fast, hot love affair (and furious if you consider the ferocity that I tugged and pulled on Mr. Frankie). But now it is coming to an end.

My Gollumish bartender managed to
get the corner bar to open on Sundays. They were going to start opening on Sundays with the upcoming football season and all but he managed to get them to open this coming Sunday. And get this – they will also be offering free pool (free pool! – me beating off frantically). How he got this through the legislation I will never know. The head manager can be tough to work with. Months back someone noticed that the flat screens in the restaurant had DVD players built in on the side of the screen. So one Sunday night a couple of us (not me, I was way too drunk to be carrying a TV) switched the TVs – they were the exact same size – so we could watch movies in the bar on slow Sunday nights. The Sunday movie night concept was a huge success. When we put movies on every single person in the bar was watching that TV. We would play well regarded movies like The 40 Year Old Virgin and Ladder 34 (or some other number like that). That lasted for about three weeks till the head manager noticed the TVs in the restaurant didn’t match. She got so mad she had the TVs switched back, bolted down, and withheld the paychecks of the culprits for over a week. How my bartender got her to open up the pool table I will never know (but there might have been some sexual favors swapped in the deal).

So my Sunday routine is going to change drastically. Instead of waking up at 1:00, flipping on the tube, watching some movies and fondling my junk I have to actually set my alarm, wake up at 11:00, shit, take a shower, and head up to the bar for eight hours of football (I usually need to leave at halftime of the night game while I can still walk). The effects of the typical 5-6 pitchers in 5 hours takes a radical turn when you add on three more hours and two more pitchers. They offer free food at halftime of the Packers game but by then I’ve had two pitchers on an empty stomach and it doesn’t do all that much good. And then there’s the SoCo. No matter how many times you pee that much beer is going to make you feel full. The last two or three drinks of the night are typically Southern Comfort and Cokes and put me into a twelve hour hibernation till I have to wake up on Monday morning.

I’m wondering if I should send the 18 yr-old bartender a card with a letter explaining the situation. I don’t want to just leave her out in the cold. I know that she has fantasized about having hot passionate sex with me on the pool table and I’d like to let her know that I appreciate those thoughts and that I’ve had them too. But it just can’t be. We have to move on.

I’ll beat one more out for her.

Clipping of 2007

So I ran into Flirt Girl this morning as I came in to work.

FG: Hey!

(yeah, I don’t think she knows my name. but we’re very close emotionally, physically, and spiritually.)

Me: Hi! I haven’t seen you in a while.

FG: Yeah, I quit smoking.

Me: Ah, you’re one of those people, a quitter.

FG: It’s been three whole weeks now.

Me: You know, I heard that if you substitute sexual activity for smoking there’s a much better chance of you staying off the cigarettes.

FG, batting her eyelashes: Is that so?

Me: Yup. So, if you like need some help with that I could make myself available at various points throughout the day.

FG: I’ll have to think about that one.

And no, the conversation didn’t exactly go like that because someone is stupid and slow and just plain lethargic on Monday mornings. Fuck!

But you know what? It doesn’t really matter. You see, I wasn’t really looking my best this morning. Hell, even I wouldn’t have wanted to have sex with myself. On Saturday the Renter decided it would be a good idea to get drunk and cut my hair. Well, I got drunk, she cut my hair, but whatever. What used to look all stylish and handsome…


now is too short to comb, too short to style, too short to do anything but stand straight up. Yeah, it’s pretty fucking hot. I wore a baseball hat all weekend. The baseball hat was a little loose due to the reduction in hair. Can you say last free haircut ever?

Today at work I had to put up with various comments on the fuzz on my head. “Hey, are you joining the Army?” “That reminds me of a fuzzy baby chicken.” “Do you want to borrow my hat?” “You look like a little boy!” “Wow, you must have really pissed off the Renter.” “They really got you in the back, uh, never mind.” It’s called a part people, not a bald spot. Fuckers.

But the weekend wasn’t completely ruined by the Clipping of 2007. I managed to knock out a post early on Saturday about my love for the current Miss Teen USA (which, by the way, prompted an email from her lawyers). I bought four new chairs for the deck. At 3:00 three neighbors stopped over for beer and brats. They stayed for a couple hours and chatted, Mr. Elmer both got his hair cut and got chewed out by his girlfriend, and we had generally a good time. The details of what happened after they left are a little foggy. I know I got butchered by the Renter. I think I made it up to the bar for the start of the Brewer’s game. I talked with lawyer girl’s boyfriend for quite a while about lifting weights (of which I have practically no recollection). Then, well, I don’t know. The Brewer’s game ended, I was pretty much drunk, the crowd in the bar was a little weird, so the Renter agreed to take me to the casino.

The trip to the casino didn’t start off well. As we were at the ATM I somehow managed to flick an ash on the Renter’s seat as she was leaning out the window and burned a hole in her seat and her shirt. Not cool. Pretty soon I’m going to have to buy her a whole new car. For the record that was burn hole #2 and the fact that I have to start labeling them is not good. So no more smoking in the Renter’s car.

I sat at a $25 black jack table and started playing with just $25’s. I hit a rough streak in the beginning but since I was only doing $25’s I was still ok. Ten minutes later I was up $300 (not that I would have realized this in my condition but thankfully the Renter pinched me and kept me abreast of the situation). At this point every hand was a $50. I won one and decided I’d keep playing till I lost another hand. Six hands later I was still playing when the dealer pulled out a five card 21 to kill everyone at the table. I pushed my chips out in front of me, $1,000 in total, and did my best to not fall over as I got out of my seat and headed for the cashier’s box. Not a bad night at all.

On the way to breakfast we decided to stop in to G the hairdresser’s new hangout. He wasn’t there but we still stayed. I had four SoCo’s and Coke (like I needed any more) and chatted with the bartender. “Hey, do you know a guy named G who comes in here?” “You mean G the hairdresser.” “Yup, that’s him.” “He used to hang out at M’s, right?” “That would be him.” Who the fuck gets to be well known around town as G the hairdresser? Which got me thinking, what would my name be? B the drunk? B the shit head? I personally like B the playa but I don’t have any grounds to base that one off of.

I had a hard time sitting at work today. Sunday is usually TV day in the house and this Sunday proved to be just that. The Renter busted out The Band of Brothers DVD’s and we got through two discs before the Sunday Pool Crew arrived. Those two discs had to have lasted a good five hours. That’s five hours that I had my hand down my pants playing with my junk. Yes, you know it, it was heaven. But then today at work my junk, well, got kind of lonely. They went from being cuddled for five hours (and maybe even more time while I slept) to not being cuddled at all (funny how they frown on that in the office environment). As soon as I got home I rushed downstairs to my sex (0%)/masturbation (100%) couch and went to work. God I love that couch.

Posting

I'm sorry, but when you say you're going to be posting regularly (kind of like my shits), please do and not have me go to your site and see no activity. Fuck.

One of my biggest pet peaves.

Weekends

So nobody goes on this site on the weekends. Fuck all you bitches.



No, really, I love you, please come back. To my back door. Ring the doorbell.

Excel

Trying to teach the Renter how to use Microsoft Excel. Bare with me. And I do mean bare it, send me the all the tittie pictures you have. I love you all. Or I will make love to your tittie pictures. Really, I will.

Titties, ahh...

Miss Teen USA

Usually on Friday nights I’ll sit on the deck, drink 12 beers, and write for you in some form of broken English that may or not make sense and may or not have proper punctuation and may or not be racially/sexually/masturbatially appropriate. But this Friday, while half shitting solids half liquids, I got a text from the Friday bartender. “Come watch Teen USA in the air conditioning.” Yeah, everyone knows I don’t turn the air on. So I finished up, wiped for what seemed like forever, took a shower, got dressed and headed up to the bar.

It’s not uncommon for the bartenders to call or text me to come up to the bar. If it’s slow and they’re bored they know there’s one poor sap who lives a block away who will keep them company with a sense of humor only I can bring. And its nice feeling needed so I usually jump at the opportunity.

I walked in to see both the bartender and the woman who I’ve had what seems to be a decade long running joke that I want to sleep with her (well, ok, I do) and she kiddingly downplays it every time (ok, maybe not so kiddingly). And what do you know, they had Miss Teen USA on all the TVs. Holy fuck!!! These girls were absolutely fucking hot! I know, some of them weren’t exactly 18, but I did my best to forget their ages when they showed them and just kept the thought that some of them were 18 so it was all good. I got there just in time for the swimsuit competion. Good Lord these girls were hot. In between talking with the bartender and offering to buy Sex Girl all the drinks she wanted so she could say she was really drunk when she slept with me I could be found sitting at the bar quietly moaning and humping the waitress stand. Seriously, Miss Teen USA was that fucking good.

Friday turned out to be a very good night. As soon as I walked in I hot a shot of Southern Comfort in front of me. Southern Comfort is my drink of choice but I’m just too fucking cheap to order it at the bar. And, as I learned Friday, Southern Comfort straight up if fucking horrible when it’s the first beverage you’ve had for the night. “Good God, you mean I actually like this stuff when I’m loaded?” Yeah, I went on to have six shots in total for the night along with five or six pitchers of beer. It was a good night. And my liver’s expiration date got changed by a couple of years.

Back to Miss Teen USA… Lawyer Guy and I actually placed bets on who was going to win it and dat da da dah, I won when Miss Colorado (and her lovely fake boobs) took the title. (Miss Colorado (Hilary Cruz, oh, the dark skin…), if you happen to read this, and I mean this in the most honest way possible, I will love you and feed you and provide for you for the rest of your life. I will even (gulp) go down on you in the bedroom. Just give me a chance. Trust me, you’ll love it. Greatest opportunity ever.)

I'm sorry but I couldn't find any photos of the swimsuit contest but take my word, those puppies sitting on her chest were simply marvelous.

FA Alive and Well (and Secretly Gay!)

The FA sent me a link to this article on Yahoo! Finance (provided by Bankrate.com) on daily habits and expenses with a snide little “you do one or two of these, huh?” comment. The top 10 money drains they listed were coffee, cigarettes, alcohol, bottled water, manicures, car washes, weekday lunches out, vending machine snacks, interest charges on credit cards, and unused gym memberships. They wrote up little paragraphs for each one.

Coffee -- According to the National Coffee Association, the average price for brewed coffee is $1.38. There are roughly 260 weekdays per year, so buying one coffee every weekday morning costs almost $360 per year.

I rarely buy pre-brewed coffee. I’ll go to Duncan Donuts once in a while but that’s only so I can get seriously aroused and masturbate while I drink the greatest coffee in the world. Otherwise I buy coffee in the can and either make it at work or at home. And just like my vodka, the coffee says Roundy’s on the label too.

Cigarettes -- The Campaign for Tobacco Free Kids reports that the average price for a pack of cigarettes in the United States is $4.54. Pack-a-day smokers fork out $1,660 a year. Weekend smoker? Buying a pack once a week adds up, too: $236.

Yeah, I smoke cigarettes. Lately with all the Brewer’s games and preseason Monday Night Football I’ve been smoking about three packs for every two days. At $3.46 a pack that runs me $1,895 a year, but it’s just something that I do. Oh, and it builds character. Just look at how cool that Marlboro Man was.

Alcohol -- Drink prices vary based on the location. But assuming an average of $5 per beer including tip, buying two beers per day adds up to $3,650 per year. Figure twice that for two mixed drinks a day at the local bar. That's not chump change.

I wasn't going to comment on this one but it keeps... pulling... me... in (gravitation). $5 per beer, are you fucking crazy? In the land where the king of beers is not a Budweiser, people in Milwaukee would boycott bars if they charged $5 for a beer. My bar charges $5 for a pitcher (48 ounces). And “figure twice that for two mixed drinks”? $10 a drink? Good Lord, the person writing this article must not get out much. In fact, I’m going to guess the person who wrote this doesn’t drink at all (fucking pussy). Who the fuck goes out and gets two beers? “Uh, yeah, I’ve had two already, I better get going.” Ha!!! Sadly, when I started to calculate my annual spending on alcohol I temporarily lost control of my bowl functions and shit my pants just a bit. It turned out to be just a small brown streak and was easily fixed with a couple spritzes of cologne, but still, I had shit my pants. Using a very conservative figure of $20 per day and a really rough estimate on the number of days I drink (365) I figured I spend $7,300 on alcohol a year. $608 a month. I could be one of those assholes driving around in a Beemer or Lexus with that kind of cash. But then you wouldn’t have any dumb/retarded/disgusting stories to read about on this here website (which is not biased towards the gays so please stop sending me your Queer in the Rear personal ads, really).

(Seriously though, FA, does your wife know?)

Veronica

Veronica sent me an email today. It appears that she wants to visit the US and start a family with me.


Obviously it’s just junk mail or spam or whatever you want to call it, but I’d reply a couple times if I could get some nude pics out of it. Yep, I’m that hard up over here.