Down Goes Frasier… pt. 1…

11 11 2009

I’ve been trying to write this bad boy for the last couple days. Just a simple blog. Sum up my feelings of the events of last week. However I haven’t been able to. You see, for the last 3 days I’ve been hung over. My mind has been shot. Creative juices. Zero. Motor skills. Non-existent.

(This brings me to my next point… I would like to remind my audience that if there are any spelling, or grammatical errors in the next few paragraphs, it is indeed because I am still drunk. As are most of these post here at Sarcasm.)

For those of you who don’t already know, I was in Las Vegas for the last weekend and apparently tried to commit suicide via drinking as much booze as my poor little liver and kidneys could handle.

It all started when my friend JDub informed me that her work was providing her with a hotel suite at the Mirage hotel in Las Vegas for one week. She was to work a show and be done Friday afternoon and have nothing to do the remainder of the weekend. So the logical choice was to ask me and a number of other friends to join her for some much need binge drinkingrest and relaxation. I immediately agreed for the thought of some time away from The Gym got me all giddy inside. Although the invite was extended to a many of peoples, the one confirmed attendee would be none other than Mr. Thompson.

Mr. Thompson and I go way back to our radio days. We worked very hard on a radio show being awesome and funny. No seriously. Awesome and funny. We were like John Stockton and Karl Malone(minus the short shorts). Or Rob and Big. Or Sammy Davis Jr. (minus the eye thing) and Frank Sinatra (or any of the other white dudes in the Rat Pack.) Basically what I’m trying to get at is we were the perfect tag team comedy show and qualified for equal opportunity employment.

It’s also worth noting, that before my friend Mr. Thompson moved to LA, he, JDub and I had formed a coalition of sorts. This coalition of sorts, was based around the three alcoholic beverages that we so gladly devoured and worshiped. Mine, was, and still is to this day, Mr. Jack Daniels. Mr. Thompson’s was Crown Royal. (it’s changed) and JDub’s was none other than Jose Cuervo. There may actually be a picture of the three of us chugging straight from the bottles of these fine spirits on one of my birthdays. The Coalition was a force to be reckoned with (and a driving force in sales of said liquors. Mr. Thompson and I had been known to get black out drunk Wed-Sundays. Ahhh radio.)

So we were destined to meet in the City of Sin.

I flew all by myself (a point that shall be very important later on) Mr. Thompson drove in from LA, and JDub was already there. As I was the second to arrive I made the executive decision to purchase the first bottle of booze on the trip. It was indeed JD and it was glorious. JDub still needed some to finish up the event, so I took it upon myself to sit and watch Leave it to Lamas in my bathrobe. And get drunk.

Mr. Thompson arrived and the decision we all came up with was to go to Pure at Caesars Palace. We got ourselves dolled up, and there was an actual conversation between Mr. Thompson and I regarding pant length, shoe choice, and which shirt looked best. I believe there were numerous comments from the JDub camp regarding our sexuality, to which we decided to ignore and continue said conversations until we looked smashing!

We made our way to Pure and upon paying a ridiculous amount to get in found our way to an open spot on the dance floor. Were we got our groove on to many of today’s hottest hits. At one point, some dude was grinding on a honey in front of me when I noticed a giant eagle on his back that reflected off the lights in the club. I quickly took it upon myself to start the Napoleon Dynamite Happy Hands club motion behind him in a mocking maneuver. To which the nice Asian lady to the right of our group saw, and began to giggle. Pretty sure there was a mental high five given, and received.

The night wore on, as did our intense drinking. At one point, Mr. Thompson was getting the eye from a classy girl dressed in a Zebra print dress standing in the VIP. Somehow or another, she got Mr. Thompson into the VIP area, which he in turn got me, which she in turn got JDub. So there we were, all in VIP. Having a good time, not buying bottle service. Not buying drinks from the bar, and in actuality, having drinks spilled all over my pants. Like ALL over. Right in front. Pretty much where my junk was. It was also very awesome of the bouncer to flash his flashlight right on my crotch. Allowing everyone in VIP to see my junk, and that it looked very much like I’d wet myself. Awesome.

During our time in VIP I learned that Zebra, was just a girl looking to make it big in Sin City. She moved out here from Arizona, and was just hanging with a group of her “friends” in the VIP area. Indeed her friends were dressed as “classy” as she was, and things began to dawn on JDub and I. Mr Thompson had moved his attentions away from Zebra to some dude I believe he met in the VIP area. I’m not sure what the exchange was all about, however Mr. Thompson was the only one who left the VIP area with a number.

It must be said, that while Mr. Thompson did leave the club with a number, it was JDub that could have left with much much more. After we all stopped paying attention to Zebra, she moved on to a new group of gentlemen. We decided that VIP was not our “scene” so we luckily enough were able to retrieve our previous spot on the dance floor and “posted up.” While posting up, we made it out to the dance floor a number of times to dance to a delightful ditty or two. On one said ditty, JDub were out there busting some moves and generally making people jealous of our awesomeness. So jealous that a bouncer came up to JDub grabbed her arm, and escorted away from me. Mid-Maneuver!! In most cases, I probably would have been concerned and been all what the fuck! where are you taking her. However Jack had indeed been invited and was beginning to take over the party. So instead of getting indignant and protective, I merely said… meh.

Apparently, Mickey, one of PURE’s finest bouncer, took a liking to our friend JDub. So much so, that he removed her form the dance floor and took her up to a stage area, where low and behold, only females were up there dancing. With one exception. Chris Angel was also up on said stage and there were throngs of women around him. Including our own little JDub. Mr. Thompson and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before America’s Douchiest Man got wind of our JDub and would be Mindfreaking her all night long. It was at that moment, we decided to act. And act fast we did. Mr. Thompson and I put our minds together, and worked out an ingenious plan. We pushed our way through the crowd, got as close as we could….. and ordered another round!

The night wore on, JDub got away from Mickey’s evil clutches, I was essentially blacked out, and Mr. Thompson had gotten a dudes phone number in the VIP of PURE. We decided to call it a night and began the walk back to our hotel room where some much needed sleep was in order. However, along the way, as we walked past the tall bushes that line the front of Caesars Palace for some reason or another, I fell into the bushes. Which actually prompted Mr. Thompson to start sprinting down Las Vegas Blvd. beacuase he didn’t want to be caught by the cops. Of course, as JDub described that next afternoon, “walking home with you guys was like trying to herd wild cats.” Mr. Thompson and I high fived. Excellent.

The next afternoon, we all awoke de-hydrated and damn near dead. Some of us were worse for wear. I, because of my alcoholism, looked at the half bottle of Jack Daniels left in the room, and realized, “I’m not hung over. I can’t remember many of the events from last night. Half a bottle of Jack is gone… maybe now would be a good time to address actually having a problem.” Little did I know that that statement would come much later in the trip. Upon everyone waking up, we had a little chat about the nights previous events. Mr. Thompson and I began a dazzling display of insults and jabs directed at JDub about her time with Chris Angel.

Mr Thompson or I: “JDub how did it feel getting Mindfreaked?!?”
JDub: “I didn’t get Mindfreaked!
Mr. Thompson: “We saw you inching your way toward him! It was impressive.”
JDub: “I don’t even like Chris Angel. He’s a douche…”
Me: “No way, I saw you put the head bob, fling the hair, jazz hands move on him.”
Mr. Thompson: “mmmmmhmmm.”
JDub “You guys, stop. I did not get Mindfreaked.”
Me: “Mr. Thompson, guess what the best thing about getting Mindfreaked is….”
Mr. Thompson: “What?”
Me: “You don’t even know it’s happening so when you get up the next day, you can tell all your friends you met Chris Angel but didn’t get Mindfreaked…”
JDub: “I. DID. NOT. GET. MINDFREAKED*!!
Mr. Thompson and I: *laughter*
JDub: FINE! You guys want to do this!?!?! What about you Mr. Thompson getting worked over by a HOOKER!?!
Mr. Thompson: “WHAAAAA?!?!”
(*At some point, we stopped saying Mindfreaked, and started saying “done in the ass.” We figure a douche like Chris Angel would do something like that. If you re-read this exchange, I’m pretty sure it’s funnier with “done in the ass.” However here at Sarcasm, I at least attempt to show some tact and class in the beginning.)

The mere mention of the Hooker brought Mr. Thompson on the defensive. “What hooker?!?” “There was no hooker!”And then JDub and I began replaying the nights events out loud. The more and more we described a hooker, the more and more Mr. Thompson got defensive.

Mr. Thompson: “She was not a hooker! She was just a small town girl trying to make it big in the city.”
Me: “Dude, she was a hooker. Even “I” knew that. (This statement was indeed powerful because on one of my trips to Vegas, I got to know a nice young lady, only to find out she was a hooker by some friends the next day. I just thought she was being polite.)
JDub: “Mr. Thompson, she was totally working you. She got you into VIP hoping you’d buy shit and the club would get a percentage.”
Mr. Thompson: “No way, she just knew the bouncers. She said she goes there all the time.”
Me: “Dude.”
JDub: “Did you not see her with her friends? They were hookers too!”
Mr. Thompson: “It was just girls night.”
Me: “Duuude.”
JDub: “And PLEASE! You know of ANY classy girls that rock a short ass Zebra dress into the VIP?!?”
Mr. Thompson: “Maybe Forever 21 was just having a sale.”
Me: “DUDE!”
JDub: “She moved on to the next dude, who bought shit, after you stopped paying attention to her!”
Mr. Thompson: “She felt dejected after I turned her down.”
Me: “Dude. Seriously. Hook. Er.”
Mr. Thompson: “She wasn’t a hooker. She was a nice girl.”
Me: “Hooker man.”
Mr. Thompson: “I don’t believe you.”

The best part of this whole interaction is through out the rest of the day, at random times, Mr. Thompson would just say “She wasn’t a hooker.” Which made both JDub and I laugh a bit, and repeat, Dude, she was a hooker. The battle was finally given up later that evening after Mr. Thompson had a conversation with his sister. To which she replied, that she would have had to have seen the girl, and other details before she could make and informed decision, however…. it was most likely a hooker.

To Be Continued…

Until Next Time…

Email Me…
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com





It Hasn’t Been Laminated…

28 07 2009

Some people call it The List others call it the Top 5 but whatever name it takes it’s the same. It’s been featured on Friends and Entourage and those are just two prime examples that I can think of.

Essentially, the list consists of your top 5 celebrities you would have a free pass to sleep with if you were ever in a relationship. (one most also remember the celebrity must want to sleep with you as well. This is where the list works, and most celebrities do not sleep with the common folk.) Sometimes, the list can function as your top 5 hottest people.

To each person the list varies. It’s a very personal list, and you not need justify your selections on said list. You may need to defend them, however, justification is not necessary. People find all sorts of people attractive for many different reasons. Some like my friend Meagan has a certain TV funny man on her list, that, while not the most attractive man in the world, strikes a chord with her funny bone that no man has done before. Therefore, he is at the top of her list. Sometimes, people add pillars of the attractive people to their list for it’s only the right thing to do. For example Micah, has had Halle Berry as his number one for a number of years. I wonder if I may see the day where she topples from that great pillar of number one-ness. Not that I want to see that day come.

There are some minor rules and other reason a person may make your list. I’ll allow Ross Gellar to illustrate why indeed Isabella Rossalini was omitted in his final 5.

Which brings me to some of the rules I’ve always had. #1. You can’t pick a person you may actually run into. For example, when i worked in Radio, there was always a likelihood that some up and coming, or really famous person was to stop by the studio to promote something. So with that being said, I had to eliminate all music people from my list.

Rule #2. They should be living. I think this is self explanatory.

Rule #3. You must disclose the list with your significant other. Not only that, you may NOT be allowed to argue your significant others list. You must accept it, and move on. Like I said, each persons list is there own. Plus opening a dialogue about people you want to sleep with other than your significant other is important. Honesty is the best policy I believe. Even if your cheating.

There it is. Pretty basic I’d say.

However, my top 5 has been pretty solid for quite some time now. Who are they you may ask…. well…

My Number One For Years

My Number One For Years

She's Got Tattoos. My Mom Hates Tattoos. My mom would not like Ms. Fox. INSTANT attraction.

She's Got Tattoos. My Mom Hates Tattoos. My mom would not like Ms. Fox. INSTANT attraction.

Oh Summer...

Oh Summer...

She's Like my Halle Berry. She'll Always Be In Here. If there was a Mt. Rushmore of Hot Women, she'd be on it.

She's Like my Halle Berry. She'll Always Be In Here. If there was a Mt. Rushmore of Hot Women, she'd be on it.

You may have noticed A.) a pattern for one… and B.) you may have noticed there are only 4. You are not taking crazy pills. My dilemma as of late has been that I think I need to add someone to the list. Number 5 sometimes and often times fluctuates. And this is one of those times.

alg_minka-kelly
My beautiful friend Minka Kelly has recently been linked with Derek Jeter. Seeing as how I am a die hard Sox fan, I’m pretty sure I cannot have this in my top 5. It’s just to crushing to me. With that being said…

I have a new crush, and Wanted to know if you guys think I should put her in my top 5. Ladies and Gentleman, please meet, Olivia Munn

Atari is the Best!

Atari is the Best!

Yup, I'm a Star Wars Geek, and this is Awesome!

Yup, I'm a Star Wars Geek, and this is Awesome!

If you haven’t heard of Olivia Munn, it’s probably because you’re some well to do guy/girl with a real job who has since shunned video games of their youth. Olivia hosts Attack of the Show on the G4 network that revolves around all things, how shall i say… geeky. Video games, movies, comics, gadgets, and geek gear all get talked about with some relative humor and two fantastic hosts. One of course being my prospective addition to the top 5.

I debated on writing this post, because I felt it was really shallow. Then I did some deep introspection, and not only did I find nothing, I realized that I am indeed this shallow. Plus I really wanted to use the poll thing on my blog, and have another excuse to go through Olivia Munn’s blog again.

It’s funny though, because after all this searching and watching videos, I’ve come to realize that Olivia has some pretty amazing qualities outside of some very superficial ones that, lets be honest, are pretty amazing themselves. You see, she’s funny, and caring (animal blog post), was in Playboy (as we all know, my mom won’t like that, and anything my mom doesn’t like is INSTANT attraction. My mother is not a reader though, so I think were good.) and she loves Growing Pains. I too love Growing Pains.

She was also in a kick-ass music video… good lord reminds me of Best Buy days…

I feel like unbeknown to her, we are a perfect match.

So.. anyway…. time to vote people…

Until Next Time…

Email me
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com





Auld Lang Syne…

28 12 2008

New Years can suck it~

I’m pretty sure that New Years is the second worst holiday of the year. Following Valentines Day, at the number one spot. I come to question New Years as my life goes on.

I’m not sure how getting really drunk, and making out with someone at midnight is any more special that most my week nights. (minus the making out.)

In addition to that, is it just me, or has New Years become a marketing ploy to overcharge you at the door, then make sure they complete the rape with no lube, by charging obscene amounts for drinks?

This really only pains me, becuase I am a consumer whore. So I will more than likely be partaking in this obvious exploitation, only in hopes to score with some drunk chick hottie, who can hopefully still stand.

Here’s to ’09!





I’m A F’ing Pageant Queen.

26 02 2008

So some of you may know….. wait. Actually non of you know cause I’ve never brought it up here.

Well then, a little bit of an backstory is necessary. You see I think one of the reasons I started blogging is because I was (still am) out of my mind bored. I was laid off from my dream job back in October.

I used to work in radio as a Music Director for an adult format station. And no, not that type of adult station. You know the type that plays Elton John, Billy Joel, and mixes in some new shit from Kelly Clarkson or Daughtry. You know, the station your mom used to listen to in the car, and the one you hear while you’re getting your teeth sanded down! Now I’m not saying this was my format of choice, but I worked my ass off and earned my way to one of a radio stations top spots.

And to be honest with you it was fun! It was the best job i’ve ever had. Quite frankly now that I think about it, that’s not really saying that much. Considering I’ve worked at a big box electronics store I shall call the “Buy More.” And I’ve worked at an indoor playground by the name of SuperPlay. Both of witch jobs if I were to still be doing, I may have chosen to slit my wrists and die.

That is all besides the point though. The point is I was laid off. 

Now being laid off has its advantages. I can play World of Warcraft all day long with only lunch/dinner and bathroom breaks to interrupt me. I can stay up till all hours of the night watching Cheaters/Elimidate/RonCo on television. I can also go to Vegas and not care about being sober enough to return to work the next day. With all these pluses comes the downside.

I don’t make any money (other than unemployment) and I have to look for a job. Now I don’t know about you but I can’t stand looking for a job. I wish the job would somehow show up on my doorstep like the baby Moses. But unfortunately that’s not the plan.

So as it happened I came across a promising job that I felt I would really enjoy. It was with a small advertising agency that I though I would do well at. I was put through the process of two interviews, in which I thought I did smashing.

I have to say, that some time in my past I actually dated pageant queen. She was Ms. Small Ass County that entitled her a trip to compete in State. If she were to win at State, it was on to Miss America, WHOO HOO *fist pump*!! Now if you’re a dude and you’re reading this, you have hopefully given me a successful internet blog high five, just for the simple fact that a dude you pseudo know bagged a pageant queen. (ps as a sidebar they’re TOTALLY not supposed to do that.) Anyway, when you’re dating a pageant queen they expect to win. They do all sorts of crazy shit for six months in attempts to win. Diet, exercise, take pills, throw up, practice their talent, practice their platform and who knows what else. Most of the time in expense of spending time with reality.

After all this is said and done a pageant queen comes away winning or losing. There really is no middle ground. When they win, all is right with the world. When they lose. EVERYTHING is wrong. Their dress was the wrong color, vaseline didn’t make me smile enough, Susie had bigger breasts, my speech wasn’t good enough, I did an 7 counts instead of 8 in my dance, the judge thought I was a whore, my platform sucked… all of these and MILLIONS more a pageant queen thinks about when they lose.

And then…. it hit me. I’m a fucking pageant queen. For the last 24 hours I’ve been sitting at home questioning what the hell happened??? I thought they liked me. Was my tie crooked, was one of the girls threatened by my stunning good looks, did I answer a question wrong, should I have shaved for the second interview, was my hair wrong (it wasn’t) did I wear the right shoes, should I have lost a few more pounds??

I’ve been at a loss all day. I thought I nailed the interview. I thought I nailed the talent portion.

At the end of the judging process, it’s not the one with the most charisma, talent, and poise, it’s the one who fucks the judges.

Bitch.








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