14 12 2015


LA – Dylan McKay
Sexy, has tons of money, pretends to be rogue but really the cream of the crop. Always able to attract the prettiest girls (talent). Has a dark side. Dylan is at his worst when he’s making shady deals however no matter how dark Dylan goes, he always seems to recover and come out on top.

RSL- Brandon Walsh
Stalwart. Steady. Consistent. Without ever saying it, Brandon has a knack of reminding you “he’s better than you” especially when taking Steve Sanders spot on the basketball, track, and flag football teams. Brandon’s goody-two shoes image often times has opponents underestimate his ability to win. Which he does. At everything. Goddamit Brandon.

Portland – Kelly Taylor
Outsiders often gawk at Kelly Taylor for having it all. Money, friends, popularity, and some really nice toys. However, Kelly never can seem to put it together. One season she goes out on a high, the next season we see her at her lowest. (Remember when she did coke, was raped, joined a cult, trapped in a fire, and got amnesia. Damn.) Only her closest friends and rivals really see how troubling things are, while the rest of West Beverly goes on thinking she’s incredibly special.

Vancouver – David Silver
All around nice guy that everyone just says “awe shucks about.” No one knows why he’s there, he just is. Also brings awful dance moves, bad haircuts, and a love of earrings. No one really cared about him till his best friend left the show unceremoniously. (Camillo)

Dallas- Andrea Zucerkman
Perpetually annoying and always around. She always had a holier than thou attitude, yet never accomplished anything truly significant. Sure she excelled at being the editor of the Beverly Blaze but everybody absolutely gave zero fucks about the Beverly Blaze.

San Jose – Brenda Walsh
Seriously. No one likes her.

Colorado – Nat Bussichio
Nat reminded you of a time when things were simpler. Plus going to the Peach Pit is on everyone’s agenda because giving away free pie is totally legal and encouraged. Also he’s basically there just to push along the plot.

Houston – Donna Martin
Donna Martin has a knack of not doing anything for an entire season then completely out of nowhere she’s the center of attention. She also can’t hack it when the big lights hit her. Whether falling over drunk at prom or being addicted to pills before the big presentation, Donna Martin becomes a hot mess when the pressure is on.

Sporting Kansas City – Valerie Malone
Just comes out of nowhere looking all hot! Flashy newcomer to the group and finds herself automatically in a power play for top dog in the group. While she’s got some demons in her closet (Wizards) she basically is there to not fuck around and win the groups affection.

Seattle – Steve Sanders
Has all the money in the world, all the toys and struts around like he owns the place. But in reality Steve is just fighting his way to the top of the West Beverly food chain hoping everyone likes him along the way. He’s done enough cool stuff that casual observers hate him, but the group all respects his accomplishments. Has Bro-ments. He still obsesses over Kelly Taylor.

My Poor Decisions, I Blame On My Friends…

25 04 2011

So, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but a couple things have changed around here. Namely the blog header at the top. I really dig it. A friend of mine did it and, I’m a man of my word so they’ll be getting 20 bucks of their favorite gift card. (or 20 dollars in Jello Shots it’s still to be determined.)

Also, if you’ll look to the right there, you’ll notice there is a spot for you to sign up and receive my words in your email. That way, you’ll never miss one of my self indulgent, ego boosting, grammatically incorrect, all around garbage writing, in your inbox. (Yeah, I know I messed up the punctuation on that bad ass previous sentence, but deep down knowing exactly when to use ; and : just doesn’t sit right with me. So until someone actually wants to teach me how to use them correctly they’re going to have to deal with a lot of commas. Also, I’m drunk again, so being able to tell the difference between : and ; is fucking mind blowing, let alone how to use them.)

Last change, and it’s kinda minor/big depending on how you look at it, is I’ve started to blog over at tumblr. Now, by no means will you see one of these epic blogs posted over on tumblr, but it’s easy for me to throw something up there. Like taking a picture of something and blogging about it. Or some cool deep philosophical quote and post it. So it’s there. Take it for what you will. See I’m arrogant enough to think you guys really deep down like what I have to say, so I keep spewing garbage from all sorts of social media sites. Thanks internets!

Here’s the link, just in case you missed it highlighted in the paragraph above.

Anyway, enough with the changes. My last blog basically dealt with my new found life working with all women. It’s gotten progressively better, and I can honestly say I’ve made some real friendships there. I’ve also gotten the inside scoop on the latest DSW store opening so if you need all the deets, just shoot me an email.

Lately I’ve come to know my new friend Boise quite well. (And if you’re new here, you know that people get nicknames to protect the innocent. Also, when I introduce a character, it’s best to make you think they may be a stripper.) We’ve hung out a couple times, and based on stories and personalities realized were very similar in many ways. But the most glaring of these similarities, is our awesomeness. For example a couple weekends ago it was one of the first gorgeous days of the year. So we took it upon ourselves to leave work a couple minutes early and head to a sports bar that also has an amazing outdoor patio. We also decided that we should start drinking. Heavily.

And so the weekend began. There were stories shared, skin burned, and overall merriment that went along with playing a little hooky from work. (In fairness, we put in an insane amount of time where we work. Literally, like 60+ on some weeks, so we told ourselves, “we’ll make it up at some point.”) After 2-3 rounds of drinks, it was decided to head back to Boise’s place to hang with her husband and some of her out of town guests. This was not a problem for me, because they provided snacks. It’s amazing what I’ll do for a snack or two when I’ve been drinking. As the drinks began to flow a little more heavily, at one point someone suggested some new fangled “whipped cream vodka.” What the hell is this? Like seriously? I know in my beginning stages of drinking I may have mixed a couple of zima’s with a jolly rancher but this is straight up ridiculous. I mean, does it look like I was in a sorority?!? No. I am a dude…. and this by jove is disgu…..wait… this. ain’t. half. bad. Whipped Cream Vodka! Why didn’t I think of that. It’s delicious! So to keep things a little short, there was whipped cream vodka had.

After some hours of drinking, there was a executive decision to head downtown and grab some dinner, then maybe hit up a bar or two. Little did we know that whipped cream vodka can send you down a dark path real quick. We had some delicious dinner and moved on to what is now becoming one of our favorite spots. A karaoke bar that sits right across the street from a bar that hosts a very popular drag show in our city. (This will indeed come into play soon.)

We got inside the bar, and found a great table next to some pool tables and began ordering more drinks. As people started to shuffle in and the bar became more packed it was decided that I would indeed bust out my favorite Karaoke song, Sweet Caroline. I put my name down on the list and went back to our table. By this time, unbeknownst to me, a group of Drag Queens came to play some pool. Now, I’m not the best at having a ton of tact when I’ve been drinking, and well, sometimes the worst in me comes out. And so, while the “ladies” shot a round of pool, I took it upon myself to point out… “thats a dude.” “that’s a dude.” “Also a dude.” I also may or may not have been pointing. Whatever. They were very nice, and didn’t gang up on me to kick the living shit out of me for being rude, so we call it even.

As the night wore on, my tolerance for booze slowly got lower and lower. At one point it was discussed that we should probably be on our way, however, an injustice had been done when I had yet to perform Sweet Caroline. Boise and I went up to the KJ (karaoke jockey right?!? seriously? Am I right?) It was there that I learned I was still roughly 8-10 songs away from performing my masterpiece. In my drunken haze, I saw the mans tip jar on the table. Knowing full well that you tip the KJ to get your song up next, I reached for the jar, and was trying to find change for a 20. Well… apparently this is rude and he took exception to my little maneuver.
“What are you doing?” he yelled at me.
“I’m just trying to make change for a 20.” was my reply.
“Dude put my fucking jar back, and I’ll get you some. Asshole. What song are you anyway?”
“Sweet Caroline, how far away?”
“Like 10-15 minutes.”
“Fuck it man, heres a 20. Wheres that get me.”
“Sweet Caroline, next.”
“Awesome. Just awesome.”

So, with that, Sweet Caroline was performed. It was epic and we left the bar. I was so drunk that the realization that I tipped someone 20 bucks to drag and drop my name haunts me to this day. But what can you do. It was time for Boise and I to say goodbye and we did so in the best way possible. Like 12 year old girls. We hugged each other, say good by and repeated “you’re my favorite!” “no, you’re my favorite.” MY best friend Stampy should have known that this was indeed time to call it a night but I have other ideas on my mind. Very bad ideas…..

We carried on to a club, a literal club in all senses of the word. A club that has poles installed, and a swing attached to the ceiling. You would think, by my description that I have just broken no strip club rule, however, this is NOT the case. It’s just a club so dirty, that it’s where most the strippers go before heading to work. Also, if you haven’t bedazzled your shirt, you probably don’t belong as a dude. But hey, apparently I was dead set on attending the club so we went. And my god was it horrific. I wish I could say I remember things, but I don’t. 2 events stick out in my mind…
A. I almost got in a fight. That’s right, this dude thought I poured a drink on his bedazzled white shirt and took exception to that. To which, I would say good sir. 1. I would never waste alcohol on pouring it on a dude. Never. 2. You shouldn’t wear a white shirt to the club. It’s not even memorial day son. 3. When someone offers you to buy you a drink, and you take them up on the offer, and the drink is blue… you probably deserve to get your ass kicked. Luckily Stampy was the voice of reason, and I and White Shirt Bedazzled Dude left the club unscathed.
B. Some girl actually was flirting with me. Like, for real. Came up to me. Was flirting with me. Apparently, we were actually doing sign language with each other. Which is shocking, cause about the only sign language I remember from college is “beautiful” and “fucking.” Which, considering the club we were in, may have been all I needed. But alas, it was not meant to be. Sign Language girl took off, and even after a diligent attempt at scouring the club, she was no where to be found.

Again, at this point, Stampy should have known it was time to go. However, it was someones bright idea to continue on. Party Trifecta! We made it in to one more bar. (Which is shocking, cause most places won’t let people in if they look intoxicated. And based on my previous activities, and how much I had to drink, I have a hard time believing I didn’t look intoxicated.) But hey, I’m no bouncer. Once inside bar number three we sat down on some couches across from some very attractive ladies. (actually it was only one attractive lady. The other was the booster friend.) At this time, we had met up with another friend of ours and his wife. They were Downtown having a stay-cation, and they decided to meet up with Stampy and I. DBJ was in full drunk mode. As Stampy and DBJ’s wife sat together, DBJ and I sat on another couch and DBJ was in my ear like a muthereffing shoulder devil.
“You should go talk to that girl, she’s really hot.”
“I”m good DBJ, I’m too drunk, plus, they don’t look like they want to talk.”
“DUDE, they totally want to talk. I’m sure I just saw one of them wave you over.”
“really. You thinks so?”
“Would I lie?!? Go talk to her. Do it for me man. I’m married. And you know I always want the best for my friends!”
“You’re soooo right DBJ, Suchs a greats friends you are. I”m going over.”

Now, it would be important to know that some of the above statements are true. DBJ does want the best for his friends. However, had I turned around this one night, more than likely I would have seen DBJ with a huge shit eating grin on his face as I flew solo into the lions den.

I sat down next to one of the ladies, and began having a “conversation.” I use that term loosely, because really. I don’t remember a damn thing. I do however remember how awkward I felt, so I can only assume it was 20 times worse for the lady. I sat there for a good 10 minutes (or what felt like it) and attempted some sort of open dialoge. The only thing I remember talking about was soccer. Something for which I have a great deal of passion, however, in my state, I’m not sure I conveyed that to this nice young lady.

I woke up the next day with no hangover. Which was a nice way of god not punishing me, however, he left me just enough memory to remember the “conversation” with the young lady. And looking back, I’m trying to figure out, just which one I’d rather have. Knowing just how much of an asshole I was all night. Or a little headache and some nausea.

Tough choice on this one…. tough indeed. However, what makes it all worth it, is thinking that she got with her girlfriend later that week and said… “Hey remember that really hot guy that hit on me, but was too drunk to keep his eyes open?” and her friend will reply… “Of course I do.” And she’ll reply by saying, “He was kinda funny. For a drunken asshole.”

And she’ll smile and giggle.

At least I made her laugh….

Until Next Time…

Email me

In The Land Of Women…

12 02 2011

So, I’ve been thinking lately. I’ve really been wanting to get some updates to my blog site, but I don’t have the time, considering I’m saving the world now. (more on that in just a bit.)

What I’m looking for is two things. Two simple things and I’m hoping someone out there will be able to help me out.

First, what I need is a cool little photo for my Facebook “fan page.” I just want something a little better than the glass of Jack and Coke picture that I took while I was out and about one night. (It must also be noted, that the picture is also in the header of this blog.)

Which actually brings me to the next topic. I want a cool banner that reflects this blog at the top. The picture itself has to be 780 x 95 and it also has to be awesome.

To sweeten this little deal I’ve made with you people, I’ll be willing to fork over $20 in US dollars at the iTunes store. Don’t like iTunes, fine, I’ll get you $20 in Joanns Fabrics, Gap, Best Buy, Victorias Secret (please let this be the one) or any store of your choosing. Shit, it could be Louis Vitton if you really feel like you can get something worth $20 bucks there. (They’ve got keychains right?!?) Thats right $20 free dollars of fun-ness to people who can actually work the Photoshop Machine.

All you have to do is submit the photo ideas to There, that’s it. I’m sure none of you have anything to do today so I should expect tons of results within the hour.

Now, with that out of the way on to bigger and better things. See, I’ve been at my new job for just over a month now. It’s pretty epic. I’m working for a non-profit in the hope of dominating a pretty terrible disease. To protect most the innocent people I work with, I’m going to refrain from actually name dropping the actual company, but rest assured, if we were to talk and you were a smoking hot, or even pretty decent looking, I’d be sure to let you know exactly the type of work I do.

It’s been a constant level of learning which I’m not entirely used to. I’m really used to knowing shit and when I don’t know shit it bothers me. You may say I’m a bit of a know it all. I’m alright with that label, because quite frankly, knowledge is power and dammit I love power. (However the thing that eludes me is the true knowledge of using comma’s. I know I use to many and I know most of them are used incorrectly, but to be honest, it’s my blog and it’s really not that easy writing them shitcanned out of your mind. You try it!)

Where was I? Oh right, things I’m not used to…. Quite frankly, not knowing things is slowly starting to change. I’m becoming more comfortable with what I’m doing and starting to learn things at a rapid pace which can only lead to my domination and quick ascension to a promotion.

While the knowledge is coming, one thing that has thrown me for an even bigger loop is the fact that I work with ALL women. Seriously. ALL WOMEN.

Now look, I know that one may be sitting there and saying “hey that’s perfect for you!” or “what’s wrong with working with all women.”

And the short answer is nothing. Nothing is wrong with working with all women. It’s just different. For example. My very first day at the office there was a staff meeting. It was held in a reasonably large conference room with windows to the outside world (important in a second.) Everyone rejoined from their holidays breaks and discussed what was done on their holiday breaks. For most it was the same old story, hung out with family, ate too much, etc etc. Oh, also this was my first time with everyone. All ladies. I believe I counted 20. The stories moved around the large 4 buffet tables made into a giant square. Finally came to the one lady I found the most attractive in the office. She recanted her story of her break, but left one little tid bit out until someone asked… “What ELSE happened on your break.” To which she replied “I got engaged!”

Whole muther effing room erupts in squeals and applause and congrats. Except me. Don’t get me wrong, I may have done a little slow clap for her, but all I could think was “dammit. of course.” Welcome to a female dominate workplace.

It’s totally different for me. I’ve worked in some pretty male dominated workplaces and this is all foreign to me. I’m used to dudes verbally assaulting chicks about their looks as they walk through the door of a gym. Nope, can’t do that. I’m used to being given a “good game” pat on the ass when I’ve done some pretty good work. Nope, can’t do that. I’m used to saying the F word left and right. Nope, can’t do that either. It’s all very weird.

One of the more weird things, is the way people are motivated. We’ve had to do some pretty inane work that can get kind of boring or trying on ones patience so the powers that be decided that we would do arts and crafts before lunch to liven things up a little bit.

Wait, what? Arts and FUCKING crafts!?! Surely you can’t be serious.

They were. And are. Another thing I’ve learned, is you don’t fuck with arts and craft time. Write this down boys and girls as a legitimate life lesson. You. Don’t. Fuck. With. Arts and Craft. Time. Ever.

On this particular day we made frames. We were to put a picture of someone that is important to us to remind us why we do what we do. Heres mine….

Arts and Crafts Bitches.

I know. Someone fucking call the Louvre. Sign my shit up.

One thing I’m finding hard, is talking ABOUT women with women. It’s not the same. Like not even at all. I try a little bit with a friend of mine, but it’s just not the same. Like, I can’t go into another co-workers office and be all “Bro, did you see what So-And-So was wearing today?!? Like DAYUM! Look at her ass!” To which they would reply “Fuckin sick bro! I know!” High fives would generally be shared along with a little head nod. These things actually happen… trust me. You wear something hot, the guys in your office totally notice. However, they have a healthy outlet to express such hotness. Alas, I am without.

Now I feel like you readers will believe that working with all women is all bad. It’s not. In fact, I’m hoping at some point I’ll get hooked up with one or two of the hot daughters… that’s right Regional Vice President, I noticed your photos on your bookshelf, and that’s right I noticed your smoking hot daughter. Maybe she’ll put in a good word at some point. You know something like …

VP “Hey Smoking Hot daughter, we have a new employee.”
SHD: “Mom, I told you for the 100th time, I’m not a lesbian.”
VP: “Well it had just been a long time since you brought a guy home. But no, the employee is a guy!”
SHD: “really?!? And he is attractive, like the Red Sox, works for a non-profit and is an overall do gooder?”
VP: “Yup!! All of those are correct!!”
SHD: “I’ve gotta jump his bones this second!”
VP: “I give you my blessing.”

I figure it’ll go down something like that. Which is good cause the other bonus to working with all women??? My very own bathroom. Seriously. It’s awesome. The bathroom is huge, I’m actually thinking about putting a couch in there and renaming it the men’s lounge. You know, were there are decanters of liquor, ascots, cigars and mahogany. (sidebar, we can’t actually have ANY smoking considering, you know, it causes cancer.) This is often times where I go when I don’t want to be found. It’s not like anyone is coming in there to find me. However, even though it is MY bathroom, I’m not going to knock the Glade air-freshener and the very cute seashell/sand bowl on the counter. I mean, it’s just cute.

Last but not least… women really know how to take care of a guy. I mean especially if there is only one. For example, I’m not known to eat a whole lot of food at work. I just don’t like to. My daily routine usually consists of a protein bar in the morning and a meal replacement bar for lunch. It’s really how I keep my girlish figure. I then devour just about everything after the fact, but that’s neither here nor there. In doing this, this concerns women a great deal. A GREAT deal. I’m always being offered food. Hey I have some leftover this. Or I have a lean cuisine in the fridge. Or hey I brought extra lettuce, have a salad. I love it. I know if I ever move out and have nothing in my refrigerator, I’m just going to go to work and tell the ladies my dilema. BAM. Free Food. Ingenious.

(And ladies lets not be haters… It’d be like you going to a frat house saying you’ve never been drunk before. Boom. Free drinks. Or just going to Vegas. Boom Free drinks. You work your world, I’ll work mine.)

In closing, my birthday just passed recently and if you ever want to just fly under the radar, I suggest working with all men. Women want to make sure you feel special on your day (women you work with that is, not ones you facebook stalk on the daily.) For my birthday I got serenaded at my desk with a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. Free lunch. And a giant muther effing cupcake. And the world knows, I fucking love cupcakes.
Giant. Cupcake. Delicious.

So, maybe working with all women isn’t all that bad. For now that is. I mean, until their periods sync up and I’m the only man in the office to take all their hate out on. I’m sure that day is coming soon, but until then I’ll take a giant cupcake, smoking hot daughters, my own bathroom, and never having to worry about someone wearing the same outfit as I.

Life is good right now.

Until Next Time…

Email me


23 01 2011

One who is familiar with this blog, would also know I may have a slight obsession with How I Met Your Mother. A tv show that is basically a love story in reverse. The father is telling the story of how he met his mother to his young kids all the while retelling stories from his youth about all the hi-jinx him and his friends would get into.

Well one of my favorites is non other than Barney Stinson. A one man wrecking crew as it comes to single (sometimes) ladies of New York City. Well, Mr. Stinson has quite the obsession with Laser Tag, and in a recent episode, was attempting to go to the finals of the Laser Tag championship. In taking on this quest, he asked his so called “best friends” Ted and Marshall to join, but seeing as how their awesomeness extends only to Wife-ing hot girls, and rocking a tweed sport coat like nobody’s business, they could not participate.

So Barney took to his blog to recruit some able bodied men… (and possibly some women, based on photos of themselves in a Princess Leia bikini.) I was one to take up this cause and take Barney’s team to the Championship and bring it home. For me. For Barney. And for the United States of America.

Without further ado… this is my application to join S.W.A.T. Stinsons Way Awesome Team.

I think i’m a shoe in.

Application to Stinson’s Way Awesome Team (SWAT)

Name: Withheld to protect the innocent.

Alias: Rocky, Rock, DoubleDown

Age: 30- Awesome

Weight and Height: 200 lbs. 5 foot 10

How many somersaults can you do in a row? Roughly 83

How many times have you watched “Die Hard”? Today? Like 3 times

Favorite Quote? Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind. “Mankind.” That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it’s fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom… Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution… but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: “We will not go quietly into the night!” We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!

What’s your wing span? Long enough to hold a laser tag gun.

Do you own your own laser tag equipment? If so, what make and model? (Professional grade only, please) Scorpion Sub Machine Gun. Also, the model in the photo is wicked hot.

What martial art do you specialize in? I am actually not able to say. However, I shall let you know I am in a secret brotherhood sworn to protect our political heads, allies, and Harrison Ford.

How many years did you spend training on top of a mountain with a bushy-eybrowed old man? It took me 2 years to overcome the old man.

Did you eventually become the master? See above.

What’s your visual acuity? My visual acuity is so good, 99% of people cannot read the next few words….

Has your vision been enhanced by any sort of super-secret government nanotechnology? Also please see above about secret brotherhood. But yes.

Do you own a black turtleneck? indeed.

Does your family have a history of heart disease? (My lawyer says I have to ask this one) if by having a superhuman nanotechnoligically updated heart is a disease, then yes.

Did you grow up in a survivalist community or third world country where every day was a battle to survive? Indeed. I once killed a man just to watch him die. That and he wanted to kill me first.

If yes, did you use lasers to survive? Indubitably

What’s your favorite Mel Brooks movie? Spaceballs. The Movie.

If you answered anything other than “Spaceballs,” you can stop right here, because there’s no way you can be my partner.

Have you served in the military? Again, I am not liberty to divulge such information.

Was it one of the secret branches that you’re not supposed to talk about? No?

Did you use lasers? Super awesome ones, totally.

Can you incapacitate someone using only your pinky? Not everyone can?!? That’s shocking. I did not know that.

Would you have any moral objection to using your skills on a particularly annoying 14-year-old who’s walked away with the trophy three years running? One would say, if it’s been 3 years running, it’s about time he get knocked off his high horse…

How many corn dogs can you eat in a row? Mini : 25 Regular size: 13

NOTE: If you have boobs, tear up the application and just send a picture of yourself in Princess Leia’s gold bikini costume from “Return of the Jedi.”

I, the undersigned, residing in the county of Washington, state of Oregon, do hereby declare my intent to practice, train and participate in all laser tag related activities set forth by Barney Stinson and the Stinson’s Way Awesome Team (SWAT). I accept that submission of the above application represents my consent to participate in a Battle Royale and/or Capture the Flag to determine the most qualified applicant. I recognize the possibility of physical injury associated with said activity. I release, discharge and agree to hold harmless Barney Stinson, SWAT and his affiliated organizations and sponsors from any and all liability, claims or demands arising from my participation in the above programs, specifically to include any and all claims for personal injuries sustained while present or participating in the programs or traveling to or from events in the programs or while on trips sponsored by or in conjunction to the programs.

The undersigned have read and fully understand and agree to the forgoing.

X Removed to Protect the innocent
Applicant Signature

2010 In Review…

19 01 2011

So basically, it’s been way too long since i’ve written in this blog. Which depresses me a bit. To be honest, a bit of my creative juices were wasted on my crappy ass job. I wasn’t happy and with that said the blog took a huge hit. I just didn’t have the energy to write.

Which is insanely sad because there were some pretty sweet adventures. Like the time I spent some time in Manchester England and got to see Manchester United play. (Which was EPIC. Went with my dad and we got the Hospitality package, and let me tell you… AMAZING! So amazing. Bucket list crossed off.)

Quickly after that, I was able to jaunt on down to San Francisco to hang with my great friend JDub, who had recently gotten a job with a pretty sweet advertising agency. We spent some time with her college friends, “The Slores” which, to be honest was pretty awesome. Great group of girls, that sadly, consider me just one of the girls. There were lots of stories about hooking up, relationships with dudes, peoples expertise, and all the while not giving a rats ass a “dude” was in their presence. But it was fun getting some insight into the ladies viewpoint… all the while getting drunk and heading out to watch the Oregon Ducks take on the Cal Bears. (Which, btw, Cal Memorial Stadium… worst. stadium. ever.)

While those were some amazing highlights, the greatest highlight came right around December, when I was offered a new job with an AMAZING company. So long to The Gym, hello National Non-Profit Company that helps battle some pretty ugly diseases. So I’m pretty stoked about that.

Seeing as how this is my blog, and I generally like to brag about how awesome I am, WordPress was kind enough boast my ego just a bit more by sending me my blog stats from the previous year. Which, just reinforced my already known assumptions… I’m awesome. And so is this blog.

Enjoy my awesomeness…

The stats helper monkeys at mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 12,000 times in 2010. That’s about 29 full 747s.

In 2010, there were 7 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 93 posts. There were 29 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 8mb. That’s about 2 pictures per month.

The busiest day of the year was January 7th with 299 views. The most popular post that day was Irish Wake Style… Pt.2.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were,,,, and

Some visitors came searching, mostly for rachel bilson, blake lively, arizona state girls, byu girls, and chelsea noble.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.


Irish Wake Style… Pt.2 September 2009


How I Lose 10 Bucks Every March… March 2009


V Day with Rachel Bilson… February 2009


Mayonnaise Colored Benz, I Push Miracle Whips…. June 2008


“A Very Special Blog Post…” April 2009

Also, it’s good to know that in a world where searches are dominated by crazy hookers, whores, Blake Lively, College Girls, and Rachel Bilson… It’s good to know that a majority of people came here because I referenced Chelsea Noble…

One Hot Babysitter

Show Me That Smile Again….

Email Me…

Until Next Time…

How To Make An O…

8 12 2010

If you’re like me, you’re a big fan of college football. And if that’s the case then you’ll have heard my favorite team is headed to the National Championship game, or Natty round these parts. That’s right the Ducks from the University of Oregon are headed to the Natty to take on the Tigers from Auburn.

As I stood in my seat at Reeser stadium, watching the Ducks wrap up a perfect 12-0 season, it dawned on me that some Duck fans are indeed letting the team down. I’m not entirely sure they know exactly what they’re doing wrong, but my friends it annoys me to no end when it happens. I am talking of course about, The Vagina Hand.

Let me explain for the non Duck fans out there. See one of the University of Oregon’s many logos is the ‘O.’ it’s one of the more popular logos the school uses and you may have even seen Reese Witherspoon sporting an ‘O’ hat while she galavanted around Hollywood the other day. This logo has transformed into a hand symbol that many of the fans of Oregon deploy to show their allegiances.

However, many fans arent exactly doing it correctly, which is resulting in The Hand Vagina. If you are unaware of what exactly the hand vagina is here is a picture …

I Give You The Hand Vag...

As one can clearly see this isn’t exactly an ‘O.’ what it is, is a derogatory hand gesture usually given to some who’s being a pussy. To be honest, this was a usual hand gesture that was thrown about left and right in my house in college, and usually whilst playing some sort of college football on the Playstation.

While this may be a little derogatory and crass, other people in this world have made millions off The Hand Vagina. First, I believe Jay Z instituted the ‘Roc-A-Fella’ hand gesture which is just a little different from The Hand Vagina…

Jay Z. Kanye. Roc-A-Fella. (Hand Vag)

I haven’t seen Jay utilize the Roc lately. Maybe that’s because his hand are so heavy from trying to carry all that money he makes. Or maybe he’s too busy grabbing Beyonce’s ass… I mean, I would.

Another person that capitalized on a Hand Vagina variation was a wrestler by the name of Diamond Dallas Page. Back in the day I used to be a huge wrestling fan. In fact one spring break my college roommate and I took a trip to Houston to go to Wrestlemania. And to bs honest it was a baddass trip. Of course I was pretty hammered for 99% of the trip which may or may not have lead to an eyebrow piercing, but that’s niether here nor there.

Where was I…. Oh right Diamond Dallas Page. DDP (as he was known by his close friends) had a move called the Diamond Cutter, which of course was his “finishing move.” right before the maneuver was to be executed, DDP would throw up his hand and make the hand vagina The Diamond symbol, and boom! Lays out his opponent with the Diamond Cutter. Finishing the match and walking out of the ring victorious.

DDP and The Diamond Cutter (Hand Vag)

Now that I think about it, pretty sure DDP tried suing Jay for use of his hand symbol.

You may be asking what’s this got to do with Oregon? Well friends a lot. Too many times have i seen it happen people just getting lazy with their ‘Os’. They figure hey it kinda looms like an O, it’s above my head, all my friends are doing it. But people, it’s not ok. It just isn’t. You’re not a rap mogul. You’re also not a wrestler (even if you’re wearing and green and yellow Lucha libre mask)

Now, you may bs saying, “hey my favorite Duck throws up his hands in the Hand Vagina way! I’m going to do the same.”

Yes young fan he is. He is also given this kick ass Nike gloves from Uncle Phil too.

Gloved 'O'

Your favorite Duck player has no choice.. Those gloves make the O for him. So, again unless you’re Jay Z, DDP, or an actually player sporting the Nike Zoom gloves, you should be making the proper O.

Here is a quick lesson on the proper O.

Take your right hand and actually make a C.

RIght half...

Take your left and and make a C.

Left Half

Bring your left hand and right hand together, bam! The Perfect O.

Perfect O

(actually the perfect O is completely elusive and unknown to men)
(come on, you didn’t think I’d go the whole blog talking about hand vaginas and Os without at least ONE innuendo)

Remeber everyone, you don’t see Texas fans throwing up the horns with a pinky bent.


Or you don’t see Red Raider fans throwing up guns without the thumb up.

Guns Up.

It just doesn’t happen. So fellow Duck fans, I urge you to perfect your Os, to hold them high, and represent the Ducks as they look to roll the Tigers in the Natty.

Oh, and one last thing….

Puddles. He'll see you in Glendale.

Go Ducks!

Email me at

An Open Letter To Rachel Bilson…

12 08 2010


Hey. How are you doing? I couldn’t help but overhear you are single now. I’m really sorry to hear that. Darth Vader seemed like a pretty decent guy, I mean, aside from cutting down the entire Jedi army (including young padawans) and putting the Galaxy in disarray, he seemed like a cool cat.

I also couldn’t help but overhear that you were looking to focus on your career. That’s perfect, because I have a really shitty job and would need you to continue to work so we could both live in the style we’re accustomed to.

Now that I think about it, do you have a place of your own? Cause that would be best. You see I still live at home with the ‘rents (ala Seth Cohen in season 4 of the OC.) Now don’t get me wrong, if I brought you home my parents would LOVE you! More specifically they’d love you because bringing a girl home would start to erase their ever-increasing suspicions that I might be gay.

You’re probably asking yourself, “is this too soon?” “am I emotionally available?” “do we have anything in common?” to which I would reply, no it’s not too soon, based on an episode of How I Met Your Mother (a show you were excellent on btw) there is a very small window of opportunity…

To your second question, am I emotionally available? To that I say probably not, but in the grand scheme of things and considering you are an actress, I’ll take acting like you are emotionally available and call it all good.

Lastly, do we have anything in common, yes, yes we do. For starters we both like to be fashionable at movie premiers. You dressed up something fierce at the Jumper movie premier


I also dressed up something fierce at the last Star Wars movie. Of course by fierce I mean ferocious, like the evil Rancor monster. But either way fierce.

(ps, aside from the Star Wars reference in there, saying the word “fierce” a lot is another reason in my parents ever-growing concern that their son is gay. That and I’m watching more Project Runway.)

Lastly, Rachel, I’d like to call upon the time we spent Valentines Day together. You can’t tell me that meant nothing to you?!? I mean you could. Technically. But still I thought we shared quite the moment there. I thought we had something special. Well, now that I’ve written this letter here is your chance to prove that this could be something. I will eagerly be awaiting your reply….



ps. I am not a crazy person.

Email Me (this actually is for everyone, not just Rachel. But it’d be cool if Rachel emailed me too.)

Until Next time…