Never Pet A Hooker… Pt 2…

21 05 2009

If you haven’t already done so, please make sure you read part 1 of this Saga in Seattle. (ooh alliteration.)

After the nights run in with a Hooker, it was off to sleep in our cozy hotel room. I figured I’d plow through a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep and wake up feeling like a million bucks.

This however could not be further from the truth. Roughly at about 5:45 am, the fire alarm in the hotel was going off. We happened to have the room right by the exit, so I could hear everyone congregating outside our room. And by everyone, I mean a team of high school girls it seemed. Along with the fire alarm, I could hear countless girls laughing and cackling and generally having a raucous good time.

Of course, what they couldn’t hear was me, still laying in bed cussing up a storm. I made it my goal to let the world know how pissed off I was at this current moment. Had sailors been around, more than likely I would have offended them. It was definitely a mouth I don’t kiss my mother with.

After a good 3 minutes of my continuous swearing, I decided that my life was probably a little more valuable than a couple more minutes of sleep, and there was a group of high school girls just outside my door probably in teddies, and all sorts of hot lingerie. I begrudgingly got my self out of bed and headed to put on a shirt. The second, and I mean the SECOND that shirt was on, the fire alarm, and girls ceased.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been more pissed in my life. More swearing ensued.

About 930am I made a phone call to my friend Micah for it was indeed his birthday. We had a great conversation about his birthday, and shenanigans, and how he was in fact not in Seattle over the weekend. The reason I questioned this, was because it was in fact my friend Micah who rocked the Michael Vick jersey when trying to score at the clubs. He talked me down of the ledge, by letting me know, much like Vick’s career, his Vick jersey was on lock down.

The phone call lasted about half an hour, when JDub started getting agitated and needing food. Apparently training for a Triathlon* generates an insatiable hunger. So we were off to find some food. However, something was off. I just didn’t feel right. My stomach didn’t want anything inside it, and I was fighting off the urge to fall over and go to sleep. I wasn’t hung-over, because I’ve been hung-over many times, and this was unlike anything. I couldn’t figure it out.

[side bar, please check out JDubs fund raising for her triathlon, it’s for a good cause]

JDub, being the trendy-outdoorsy type that she is, drove my sorry ass to Whole Foods, where she figured we’d both find something to eat. We got inside, and at first, I was in awe of what the Whole Foods had to offer. I am a man that enjoys good food, and for my first time at Whole Foods, it seemed as if they had everything. Chinese food, Pizza, Meat, tons of Beer, it was all there, and on any other given day, Whole Foods may have turned into my favorite store. However on this day, Whole Foods became enemy number one.

As I previously stated, my stomach didn’t feel as if it wanted any food. And while the prospect of some nice Chinese food always makes me happy, I can honestly say the ONLY thing I wanted in this world at that time was a Gatorade, shit, I would have settled for Powerade even. As I perused the store, I saw all sorts of organic hipster loving bullshit. Organic this, organic that, Whole Foods was rapidly moving down my list of cool places to shop. After many passes through the store, I came to the conclusion they had no Gatorade. I want Gatorade dammit. Finally becoming acutely aware of my misery and hatred for the store, JDub found an ultra-hipster employee and the following exchange occurred…

JDub “scuse me, do you guys happen to have Gatorade?”
Ultra Hipster * scoffing at her * “We DON’T carry Gatorade! (acting all indignant that someone would insult the great Whole Foods by carrying Gatorade.)
JDub “ok, do you have anything with electrolytes in it??”
Ultra Hipster “ummm we have some VitaminWater.”
JDub “Soooo water with some vitamins in it?”
Ultra Hipster “Well, ya.”
JDub “ So nothing with electrolytes?”
Ultra Hipster “ VitaminWater.”
JDub “Thanks for ALL your help.”

That was pretty much it. Whole Foods and been removed from my list of places I’ll ever shop. Listen, I know people in their Birkenstocks and Volvo’s love that shit, but if you “CANT” carry some Gatorade, were going to have words.

I settled for some Organically grown water in a bottle and proceeded to checkout with a limited amount of Chinese food. For if it was indeed a hangover, I would soon be cured. I looked longingly at my food, as if at some point it would let me know it would all be ok. That if I ate it, the magic would come through and I could go on and face the day. This was all not to be. I took one bite, and my stomach informed me that another bite, may in fact be the worst decision ever.

We left shortly, with JDub wanting to go for a run, or walk downtown, or check out Pikes Market. However, I, I could only think of one thing. Sleeping. I was having problems keeping myself awake, I knew instantly I was not hung-over. No, I was indeed still drunk.

As I awoke again at 4 o’clock with a hangover I asked JDub just how many people I drunk dialed the night before.
Me “How many people did I drunk dial last night?”
JDub “No one. Oddly enough.”
Me “No one? Are you sure?
JDub “ ya positive.”
Me “That’s weird, I could have sworn we called Micah.”
Jdub “ You did, this morning.”
Me “ ooooooh shit… I don’t really remember that. At all.”

That’s right boys and girls, I made my first trip to Whole Foods, still outta my mind drunk. Awesome. (My feeling still stands. Carry Gatorade assholes.)

Four o’clock brought time for us to get out and face the day. That and the fact the Everybody Loves Raymond was over. We threw on our Sox gear and headed toward the stadium to meet up with some more friends at Sluggers, a sports bar near the stadium.

As we wandered the streets of Seattle, we got a lot of negative remarks for our Sox gear proudly displayed. “Sox Suck.” “Go Mariners!” we’re the majority of things said to us. In most cases I would be the one returning a verbal assault on someone. At one point we were walking down the street, when a bum on the side of the road shouted to us, “Mariners are going to give Boston a tea party tonight!!” This actually caught me off guard and I had no response. JDub, in all her cleverness returned quite the volley…

“Yeah, well I have a home and you DON’T. DEAL!”

Both the bum and I were in awe. It was glorious. Obviously not to the guys feelings, but quite the comeback. To which I turned to her and said… “That’s going in the blog.”

She knew what she had done.

We met up with JLee, Tyson, his brother, and spunky little thing named Katie. We all hung around Sluggers pregame, and enjoyed a number of cocktails and tallboys of Bud Light. (Funniest point of this part of the night was a tie, between this group of douches in plaid shirts wearing St. Louis hats taking pictures of Katie, and Katie, who’s all of 5’3, chugging her tall boy in record time, and slamming it down on the table proclaiming DONE!)

The Sox won the game with Josh Beckett pitching a gem.
Highlights of the game…
1. JDub being called Maam by some dad.
2. Some 8-year-old girl, would mean mug me (glare) every time I verbally rooted for my sox. I counted 4 times. I also made a bet that she was going to throw up, after killing, Nachos, Soda, Cotton Candy, and possible some pizza. I don’t remember it was gone quick.
3. Fans from Boston buying me shots of Jack at the bar in the stadium.
4. Unknowledgeable fan being taught baseball as it was happening by his softball playing girlfriend. Or, mistress, as he was wearing a ring, and she was not. Dude was really annoying… “ooooh that ball is really high.” “ooooh he hit that pretty far.”
5. Girl sitting next to me getting shots, asking her boyfriend if Josh Beckett is good, while rocking a Papelbon shirt. You honey, are a bad Sox fan, as is your boyfriend. He should have his ass kicked. I’m not kidding about this. Don’t bring your new Sox fan girlfriend to the game if she doesn’t know her history. If she didn’t have a sweet southern accent, I would have been more pissed.

We left the game on a mission to meet up with JLee and crew at the Red Door a bit a ways from our hotel. We stood on a street corner attempting to wave down a cab. After several minutes, we saw a cab coming towards us and started waiving. To our shock, he crossed three lanes of traffic coming within inches of hitting the car parked on the side, and having the Toyota Camry rear end him.

I knew we were in for something special!

We got into the cab, and gave him the location, and we were OFF! He took off like a bat out of hell. No red light could stop him, no corner was to sharp, and mirrors we just decorations. Our man had his head on a swivel like he was running from the cops. In fact, now that I think about it… we may have been in a stolen cab. I felt like I was Space Mountain in Disneyland, and only he knew where we were going. The ride jilted the both of us, and I asked to borrow the cabbies Rosary he had dangling from his mirror. It was next to the peace sign.

As we met up with JLee and crew, we got drinks and began just having a good time. The weekend was dying down for most of us, and some of us (me) were a bit tired from the night before. However, once I started drinking that Jack, I couldn’t help but “need’ more. I’m not kidding when I say I have a problem. I’ll deal with it later.

Probably the highlight of the night was when someone spilled some whiskey on the table, and Tyson was in no way going to let it go to waste. So like a cat, he leaned down and began licking the whiskey straight off the table. To which everyone all started moaning and yelling “grossssss.”

I took this opportune time to make a remarkable observation.

“I guess I’m not the most likely to get gonorrhea this weekend now am I?!?”

To which, everyone agreed. And I sat vindicated. My ultimate feat of being the most likely to get gonorrhea by petting a hooker, was trumped only by a man licking whiskey up from a bar table.

Which brings me to the end. While I have remained STD free for my many years of living, my recent outings have caused me to re-think my actions whilst drunk. My conclusion I shall pass onto you, my friends…
Never Pet A Hooker.

Email me at

Until Next time…


Never Pet A Hooker… Pt 1…

18 05 2009

I know it’s been some time since I’ve written something. To my faithful followers I apologize. I’m trying to get back into the whole writing thing after landing a new job.

I currently work the front desk of a gym, and while I’ve got one or two things in my head I’d love to write about, every time I think of the gym and working, it takes my soul away and I have no desire to continue writing. But know this, a blog about the inner workings of a gym is coming.

This is not that blog.

This my friends is a blog of my Booze induced weekend in Seattle for some Red Sox baseball.

It all began in February, when my birthday is. My friend JDub purchased tickets to see the Red Sox only trip to Seattle this year. I have obviously been in a little bit of a funk, so I was looking forward to this trip.

As some of you may know, I joined the twitter revolution (before Oprah) and decided to send text message updates on twitter as the weekend progressed. The only negative to this whole situation, is I don’t have a phone capable of checking @replies and the such. So basically I update with something funny, and don’t get to see any of the responses. If any. Sad.

As JDub and I proceeded to go over the checklist of things we may need or things we may have forgotten, somehow that list included 2 fifths of Jack Daniels. Obviously a necessary item for any Sox weekend. As we left our great city, we hadn’t even been driving 5 minutes, when I took my first pull from a flask filled with Jack.

This was going to be awesome.

We arrived in Seattle in perfect time to head to the Pyramid Brewery to get some much needed food and….. well booze. Pizza and beer arrived at our table as we sat across the street from the amazing Safeco Field. Whilst the beer and pizza arrived, so did a very nice young lady with nice fake boobs and a glittery Red Sox shirt on. I’m not going to lie, and pretend I wasn’t already smitten, cause well… She was wearing a Sox shirt. However, my curiosity was peaked (as was JDubs) to the fact that said girl was wearing a Friends and Family pass around her glittery Red Sox covered chest.

Which got us to thinking….. and by thinking I mean searching the internet on JDubs phone. After a couple minutes of relentless stalkingsearching, we came to this website, and this conclusion……

John and Farrah Lester

John and Farrah Lester

This was Farrah Lester. Wife of one of my favorite up and coming Red Sox players, and wife to JDub’s second favorite cancer survivor, Jon Lester.

The plan in our heads was hatched of how to say hello, talk to her, ultimately, How can we meet your husband. I was even willing to seduce her to meet her husband. I believe it was at this seminal moment in my life, I realized that I should really find someone to marry or at least seriously date. That way all this attention I place on the Red Sox, could be diverted into real life things I can control. However, since the prospect of getting married is far from here, I shall resume my focus on the Red Sox, and hitting on Jon Lester’s smokin hot wife.

We discussed for a good 30 minutes on an “ice breaker” to talk to Mrs. Lester. However nothing came of it, and she left with her Friends and Family pass.

(ps, I had already been drinking pretty heavily at this point, so it may not have been Mrs. Lester. But I’m pretty sure it was. Either way, please check out The Lester Project)

As we watched Lester pitch a pretty decent game, it was Ichiro who saved the day for all Mariner fans. Speaking of Mariner fans, can people help me out here. If you go to a baseball game, anywhere across this great nation of ours, can you please take a poll of how many lesbians you see at the game. (hot or not, a lesbian is a lesbian.) It just so happens that for some reason the Seattle Mariners fan base consists heavily of mullet wearing, visor toting lesbians. I wish I was half way kidding about this. Friday nights game had us sitting next to a very nice couple, one sporting the short man cut, and the other sporting the very eloquent salt and pepper mullet to the shoulders.

At one point, after Ichiro’s first home run, Man Cut decided to start talking shit to me. Why she didn’t choose JDub who was siting in the seat next to her is beyond me. Maybe she thought JDub might think she was hitting on her… I don’t know. However she leaned over, clapping her hands Church Clap style and proceeded to shout, “He can hit em anytime he wants. ANYTIME HE WANTS.”

Now, we were winning at this point, so I’m ok with a little shit talk here and there. I feel it’s supposed to be there, and he did just hit a home run. However…. The second home run that gave them the lead, and the second ANY TIME HE WANTS had me fuming.

Look tiny lesbian with a nice fade….. Like you, I also believe in rights for everyone, which means treating women equally, which also means, you lean over one more time and come inside my circle, and sure as hell there will be shit storm a coming! I know for 100% fact I can take you… No doubt in my mind. On the other hand, I’m going to refrain from whooping some ass at the ballpark, because I am legitimately scared of Salt N’ Pepper Mullet to your right. I feel as if I’d get one good shot in and SnP would want to get to me! So be happy you’re Mullet sporting partner has got your back cause you almost got an equal rights beat down courtesy of me! (PS, I’m a lot tougher when I drink. Or at least my mouth is.)

Anyway, there were no fisticuffs with the Lesbians, however the Sox did lose, and so I took it upon myself to celebrate Irish Wake style! I received a text from a good friend and former co-worker in radio who informed me he was indeed doing a club night at one of the clubs near the stadium. We walked a couple blocks and were soon in front of the greatest bar in the entire world. (Gross exaggeration for effect.) We were indeed making our way into Cowgirls Inc. OH HELL YES!
(For those of you who didn’t click the link, Cowgirls Inc. is indeed a real life Coyote Ugly. Where the dancers are hot, and the clientele is not.)

Anyway, My friend Maynard knew one of the bartenders in the joint, so it was awesome in getting drinks. Lets just say there were a couple dollars from being free. Which, as anyone knows, is a good thing to have cheap liquor, however, you tend to buy a bit more booze when it’s really cheap. And seeing as how I was in mourning… it was bring on the Jack and Cokes…A lot of them! I was so focused on drinking that at one point, whilst one young lady was gyrating in booty shorts in front of me, attempting to earn some college tuition, I gently nudged her leg and asked her to move so I could get more booze. (Note, this is probably why I’m single, and an alcoholic.)

sidebar: they’re hiring.

The night carried on as did my drinking. In the midst of my drinking 3 major things occurred.
#1. The SECOND Michael Vick jersey siting in Seattle. THE SECOND!!! And this wasn’t even a Falcons jersey, this was an old school Virgina Tech jersey. What’s with Seattle? I haven’t seen two Michael Vick jerseys in one day for as long as I remember. However, back in the Day one of my buddies used to wear his Vick jersey to the club. He mentioned it being the #1 jersey for scoring chicks. Said he was batting a cool .750 (75%) with the Jersey. So I supposed this dude was also attempting to score some chicks at the great Cowgirls Inc. I’m not sure it worked.
#2. I did the robot. It was awesome.
#3. At one point, JDub and I were standing next to one of the speaker boxes. And on said speaker box was a delightful 40 year old cougar dancing her troubles away…. and her marriage. More than once she reached down and was touching me on my head. Messing with my hair. It was hilarious. But what can I say, when I have a good hair day, it’s pretty amazing. And last Friday, my hair was pretty good… so it goes without saying that this cougar was obviously smitten. Our time together came to an abrupt end as we decided it was time to leave. But not without her pointing to her wedding ring multiple times, informing me that we would NOT be having hot cougar sex tonight. damn.

We proceeded to our hotel room, escorted by our mighty yellow chariot. As we were driving up the street to our hotel, we couldn’t help but notice two ladies who were scantily clad walking up the street. JDub, upon seeing the ladies, couldn’t help but yell in excitement like she was on an African safari…. oooohhhh HOOKERS! Our mighty cabbie also got excited shouted “hookers!” and proceeded to honk the horn! So as we pulled into our parking lot the hooker picked up the pace to gallantly take over our cab to reach their next destination.

As I got out of our cab, I decided to be the gentleman that I am and hold the door for one of the hookers. As one of them proceeded to walk past me, I couldn’t help but notice in my drunken state that she was indeed wearing a black fur coat. To which I proceeded to take my hand, and pet her arm and proclaim…. “I like this.”

I’m not sure what followed, but no money or bodily fluids were exchanged, and JDub wisely got me inside the hotel without further incidents with the hooker. I did tell some of my friends about said hooker incident and here were some responses….
#1. You have chlamydia.
#2. Did you ask to try it on?
#3. Is one of your eyes going blind, and does it burn when you pee?
#4. Did she charge you for that?

I proceeded to the room to pass out and get ready to face the day ahead of me….

to be continued.

as always email me

until next time.

V Day with Rachel Bilson…

15 02 2009

First, I wanted to let the millions three readers that I have know, that I updated my “about me” section so that the next time I go off and judge 25 women based solely on their looks, you can now email me and call me an asshat.

And based on my wit, the return email will probably go something like this….

To: SarcasmFan
From: DoubleDown
Subject: RE: Judging women

Dear Fan,
YOU’RE an asshat.

Thank you for reading.



With that out of the way, I figured I’d update my friends with how I spent my Valentines. As per usual, I really hate Valentines Day as a whole. I really think that it’s pretty much shallow and commercial. And believe me, I’m not one of those people who hates commercialism. I’m totally cool with it. In fact I embrace it for all it’s worth. Christmas being commercialized.. Awesome! Just as long as I’m getting in on some of the action.

This however is not the case on Valentines Day. For I am not getting in on ANY action. Therefore, Valentines Day sucks.

I’ve been fighting off a cold the last couple of days, so at night I’ve been taking night time cold medicine which pretty much knocks me out till noon the next day. In addition to that, I’m also insanely groggy because of it. Therefore I hadn’t really realized that our doorbell had rang 10 minutes after I had gotten up.

However, after the drug induced haze had left me, I quickly remembered that the doorbell had indeed rung 20 minutes ago, and I hadn’t heard the door close. (We have a large door to our house, and no matter where you are in the house you can hear it close.) So I left my perch up stairs and came unto our landing to see my little sister holding the door open, and a BOY standing outside on our doorstep.

sidebar: For those of you who don’t know, I’m VERY protective of my little sister. I, being a boy at one point, know exactly what boys have on their mind. In addition I also coach High School soccer at the same school she attends. Which allows me to know exactly what the boys are talking about. And I’m going to let you in on a secret. Boys are dirty.

So it displeased me a great deal. To notice said boy lurking about our house. Dropping off valentines to my little sister. As I rounded past the open door, I made sure that he saw me. We made eye contact, to which I believe said…

MyEyeContact: Don’t think I don’t see you there. Even though I just woke up and may not look it, I’m effing crazy! I’ve killed people for less than what your doing.
HisEyeContact: ooooooh shit. Big brother.
MyEyeContact: Damn straight.
HisEyeContact: Look at the ground.
MyEyeContact: Dude, sweet blazer though. Nicely done.

I felt as if the eye contact of death was enough. I’m pretty sure I got my point across, however what I really wanted to do is this….

Turns out, he brought her a rose, a valentine, and some candy or some shit.

And for all of you stop saying… awweeee that’s cute.
That shit aint cute. Dressin all snazzy dropping off Valentines. Damn.

The rest of my Valentines Day was fairly uneventful. I met up with a friend of mine from high school for some drinks which were intended to be for my birthday, but seeing as how some people have a job they can’t always find a ton of time to get drinks.

It was very cool, however, I told my friend “Belle” (she to this day still has a thing for Disney princesses, although by definition, I don’t think Belle was actually a princess) about the story of my young sisters new suitor. She responded by saying “be nice to her.” Which I respectfully disagreed with.

We had great conversation, especially when the couple next to us sat down. The woman was wearing a wedding ring, while the gentleman next to her was not. Seeing as how my friend Belle is married, we got on the topic of conversation about wearing a wedding ring etc etc.

At this point, Belle got a little heated, and may or may not have been calling the gentleman next to us a “dick” for not wearing a ring. Obviously not to his face or directly, but in the context of the conversation. I found it hilarious, because every time she would mention his charcater, she would said “he’s a dick!” quite loudly.

After some time passed and conversations changed, I noticed that I was indeed wrong. That the woman next to the gentleman was in fact NOT wearing a ring. To which I giggled to myself. And no, I didn’t tell Belle, because I thought her commentary on the fact was hilarious.

After drinks with Belle, I stopped by my happy place. Best Buy. I actually got quite the chuckle at seeing a couple couples hanging out at Best Buy. Heads up guys. For any of you reading this, based on some of the expressions of the ladies that were at Best Buy, taking them there on a Valentines date, not a good idea.

One couple, the young man was taking down death glares left and right as he poured over Car stereo information. I could just see him dropping 200 bucks for a new Car Stereo then taking the young lass over to Chipotle for 2 burritos, and a bag of chips. That made me laugh internally.

Another couple was in the DVD section trying to pick out a movie for the night. I could tell who was leading the charge based on the movies they were looking at. The Notebook, Pretty Woman, Sleepless in Seattle, and so on. Poor guy, kept turning his head and watching the big screen displays. Hoping and praying at some point he was able to make it home and watch the All Star festivities. Hate to break it to you young man, but in no way shape or form are you watching Dwight Howard lose the dunk contest to little Nate Robinson. Enjoy the Notebook dude, heres hoping you get those 123 minutes of your life back.

I left the Best Buy empty handed and without completing any retail therapy. I resisted the urge of treating myself to dinner from 5 Guys Burgers and Fries, went home and decided to finish off watching the NBA All-Star festivities and find a movie on TV.

I came across Jumper. A movie I had always wanted to watch but never had any desire to make the effort to watch. In said movie is a girl, I’ve always had a little crush on, but I’m pretty sure she’s making her way into my top 5.

That’s right, little Rachel Bilson.

I’m pretty sure were the perfect fit. She’s short, brunette, spritely (trying to use that word more often) seems really down to earth, and based on an extensive google image search always dresses cute. Which are all qualities that fit me perfectly.

Plus, she acted like she was interested in guys who like sarcasm (Summer on the OC.) and appeared in a show in which she fell for a geek (Chuck) So based on those two parameters, I’m pretty sure she’d totally dig me.

So if any of you know Rachel Bilson, I’d soooo totally love an introduction. Then we can make out, talk about Geek stuff, be sarcastic and live happily ever after.

That last sentence reminded me why I don’t like boys talking to my sister.

Happy Valentines day to me!

Until next time.

Dirty 30 Gossip…

3 02 2009

It’s inevitable, and there is no way I could have stopped it. I tried.

I started giving myself a years head start. But to no avail.

I turned 30 this past weekend. The day after the Super Bowl, to which I’m blaming my aching body, not the fact that I am “old.” The aching might also have to do with the fact that 4 or 5 games of beer pong, may just be too many for a Sunday evening. Then I realized I have no job, or any real responsibility so why the hell not! Bring on the beer pong.

It was the next morning when I realized, I have no job, or real responsibility and I am now 30. I feel as if the only way one can really get away with that in this world is if they are a professional snowboarder/skateboarder/or former cast member of the Real World. And seeing as how my attempts at being a skateboarder ended at the tender age of 9 with a broken wrist, I don’t think I can claim professional skateboarder.

I’ve never really made a big deal of my birthday. I think it stems from having a gigantic family in which remembering a birthday let alone making a big deal of it, is a huge feat. It may also stem from the fact that I’m a male and in being one of those, events/details/anniversaries are widely forgotten.

This weekend was no different. (not the forgetting part, the actual making a big deal)

I would have thought that creeping close to 30 I would have let go of things that may not be targeted quite to my demographic. For example, it’s been well documented that I do love me some reality TV, and The Hills, 90210, and even the OC here and there. So, in the course of being male and forgetting small details, I had forgotten I have a pension for tv dramas that may be targeted at the 18-25 year old female demographic and decided to pop in season one of Gossip Girl.

Bad mistake my friend. Bad mistake. I had been told that in fact I would enjoy the show based on this premise.
#1. Hot girls. Check
#2. Good Music. Check
#3. And something else, I forgot. Check.

You see little did I know but you blend all of these factors together and you’ve got me hooked. I started disc one late saturday night, and finally finished mid evening on monday. Yes friends that was 20 hours of Gossip Girl watching in a weekend of Super Bowls and Birthday haircutsfestivities.

The obsession began with Serena van der Woodsen… aka Blake Lively.




(ps, now I know this picture is ridonkulously photoshopped making her look like a porn star  a little fake, but it’s one of the hottest ones. I mean, mens button up shirt. Skirt. Tie. Thats a win in my book.)

While she is quite the filly, there are moments where Im not sure she’s hot. And then she is. And then she’s not. And then she is. Basically she plays yo-yo with the hot/not hot line, and slightly leaning staying on the hot side. I believe her incredibly preppy outfits she rocks on an episode to episode basis remind me of a J.Crew add, which lets be honest, who doesn’t love J.Crew. 

Plus Blake was also in Sisterhood of the Traveling pants, and I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out a joke about Blake and my pants, but I keep coming up empty. 

After becoming smitten with Serena van der Woodsen I couldn’t help but notice relatively new commer Taylor Momsen. 

Upon further review, (and a diligent search on I’ve come to the conclusion Taylor is not quite of age for me to be macking on. In fact, based on some loose math and the laws of gestation, I’m pretty sure that if I had gotten a girl pregnant in high school* I could in fact have a daughter the age of Taylor. Which is sad, because now I’m that creepy guy. Which I could have totally gotten away with in my 20’s. However seeing as how I’m now 30, this is totally creepy and now I’m a creepy old man. 

Damn you age!

Lastly, is Jessica Szohr, who plays some hot girl interested in some douche bag. Standard MO for this type of show. 

Hiiiiii cute girl! (Photo by Andrew H. Walker/Getty Images)

Hiiiiii cute girl! (Photo by Andrew H. Walker/Getty Images)

Anyway, this foxy lil lady has appeared on such high quality shows such as What About Brian? Which leads me to ask, what about Jessica. No way that show should have focused on anyone but Jessica here. I mean, look at her. Honestly.


So that’s been my obsession for the weekend. I even looked at to figure out if they had Season 2 on DVD yet. Apparently, season 2 is on the CW every Monday night. But had they, I would have made a trip down to Target just to pick up season 2 and some hair stuff. I need some new hair stuff, because I got a new hair cut at one of those “man spas” HairM. 

I don’t usually pay for haircuts, I usually take a set of clippers attach the number 2, and BAM! But in this rare instance I decided to hop on down to HairM and get not only a great hair cut (thanks short little asian lady with huge white clown shoes) but got a great scalp massage and beer. You see, I love the scalp massage. I’ve been to HairM three times, and all three times I have passed out asleep whilst getting said scalp massage. It’s glorious ladies, seriously. You should all take classes in how to do this so that you  when it comes down to it, you can help end world wars with a simple massage. 

The best part of this adventure to HairM was actually the day before at our Superbowl party where the discussion of frequenting an establishment such as HairM may be akin to frequenting a whore house. 

Me: So I’m getting my hair cut tomorrow at HairM
Friend: (suspiciously) Really?
Me: (picking up on said suspicion) Yeah, why?
Friend: Do they wax your balls there?
Me: (in shock) Well, I, mean, I haven’t exactly memorized all the services provided….. but…..
Friend: Well I was just under the impression that’s what they did there.
Me: Well I’ve only been a couple times, so I”m not  exac…. wait,  WHAT MAN GETS THIER BALLS WAXED?
Friend: (laughing hysterically) I dunno, just figured Guys did that and thats the place it would get done. 
Me: NO!! NO. NO NO. NO. NO NO NO NO. Nope.
Friend: (giggles)
Me: Seriously, I can’t imagine that being a service anywhere aside from International super spys.
Friend: Just figured that would be something that went down there.
Me: Are you implying it’s a whorehouse?
Friend: Well, maybe.
Me: Well, for your benefit, I’ll make sure to ask in between hair cut and head scalp I’ll slip in a little, “hey can I get my balls waxed?”
Friend: Why thank you.

So, as I sat their in my chair, I contemplated for a short second asking if HairM services include Ball waxing. Then I realized, what if they did. Then she would think I would be willing to get one. And I’m just telling you this one thing. No man should ever want his balls waxed. EVER.

Plus depending on the girl, that may be considered a pick up line.

But, of course to conclude my 30 birthday festivities my little clown shoed asian stylist stopped near the end of my cut to mention,

“you’ve got some hair on your ears, I’m going to shave it off. And one long one.” 

Thank you. Thank you very much for reminding me that my new faux hawk haircut cannot halt the slamming realization that I am indeed 30. 

Boo Yah Twenties. We had a good run. 


*This of course was not at all possible in high school, for I was not cool enough to be having sex. However, I was cool enough to be 5th in line at the movie theater when Star Wars was re-released. Yup. I am that awesome. Who knew that I was this cool BEFORE the blog.

As always email at

Until next time….

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!

Happy Trails, and Heroin…

8 12 2008

I’m currently sitting in my car.

It’s 6:28 on a Sunday night. I’m doing “Lot Security” for The Warehouse.

I’m basically wired right into the police station keeping watch on The Warehouse as people get off work and mosey to their cars.

It’s been quite the last couple of weeks at The Warehouse. Of course a couple of weeks ago, Thanksgiving was in full force. As was the stupidity of people.

Before, the radio station would generally close it’s doors at noon on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving so that people could go home and make happy hour be with their families. This is not the case with The Warehouse. They are open EXTRA late for all those people who obviously couldn’t invest in a calendar and mark it with the date A YEAR IN ADVANCE!

(ps, if your wife sent you to fulfill one, and one mission only, for Thanksgiving to get dinner rolls. And you waited till the Wednesday night at 6:23 before Thanksgiving, chances are….
#1. You failed
#2. You didn’t plan ahead.
#3. Your wife is going to pissed cause you had to settle for “The Other Stores” brand of dinner rolls.
annnnd #4. I could give a fuck less if you waited till 6:23 on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving to get dinner rolls. No, we will not make more. And it’s your fault if you got married, and it’s even more your fault that you can’t finish one simple task. Oh and glaring at me, not getting you your rolls any faster. Happy Thanksgiving.)

ps.. Thanksgivings on the 26th next year. You’ve got some time. Just tryin to help.

Sorry bout that. Back to the point. The point is, not only did I not get out of work early on Wednesday but I had to work the day after on Friday. Black Friday it’s called. With reason. I imagine a lowly little high school kid coined the term, because he was forced to work at 4am at a Best Buy, therefore going to work in the dark black night sky. Or it could possibly be because retail owners have a cold black heart and no soul. Still up in the air.

With that being said Christmas is right around the corner so I fully expect that people will only get worse as the “season of giving” gets closer. Come to think of it, it’s already started. Peoples intelligence level is already beginning to decline along with their patience and manners.

Man I hate the Holidays.

Not only have I been trying to save money, but also, I’ve been trying not to eat a ton of crap. So usually I eat a protein bar for breakfast head off to work and graze upon the many samples during my designated 30 minute “lunch” period. (ps, I clocked back in one day 4 minutes late and got written up. 4 minutes. At least I was sober is the way I look at it.)

On this day though I had run out of bars and was running late so I went to work without something to eat. Bad idea.

I often get cranky when my blood sugar drops, and combining that with completely stupid people and basically you’ve got trouble brewing. Crisis was adverted this day my friends. I got off my register for my 30 minutes bought some much needed protein bars for the future, and stood in line for a cheap slice of pizza.

The line for food often times gets of of control because people cannot pass up a dollar fifty for a hot dog and coke. Today was of course no different. I stood in line for 10 glorious minutes of my alloted 30 minutes giving me 20 minutes left of my break and giving me just enough time to listen to the two awkward alterna-teens behind me playing grab ass.

Two teens roughly 17-18 each and both highly socially inept were standing behind me waiting for the opportunity to order some delicious artery clogging treats. I kept tuning in and out of their conversation. Of course they weren’t having a very quite one, so it wasn’t hard. The first conversation was a great debate as to wether one of the customers was a guy or girl… I couldn’t help but actually join that conversation in my head…

Jury is still out too. I’m leaning toward girl, but I can’t be certain.

So I tune them out for a couple of minutes. I’ve moved ever so close to the front to order my pizza. I’m beginning to get really excited at the prospect of a warm slice of combo pizza in my hand, when I realize I’ve let my guard down just enough to catch this little gem….

awkward teen guy: “you know what I could do with my happy trail?”
awkward teen girl: “(excitedly) whaaaaaat??”
awkward teen guy: “I could shave it into an arrow or something like that!”
awkward teen girl: “ooooooh…”


Just at that moment when I thought things could only get worse, food court guy shouted, “can I help the next person”

Thank you food court guy. Thank you. You have no idea how you’ve helped.

So that was fun. However, nothing prepared me for the fun we actually had a couple of nights ago. Everything was going along as normal at The Warehouse. People checking the clock. People boxing your stuff. Me slacking. When all of a sudden The Warehouse managers all run toward the bathroom at a full sprint.

Apparently, some dude thought it would be cool to shoot up heroin in our bathrooms and almost die.


We as employees weren’t allowed near the bathrooms unless we had something to contribute to the situation. And since my CPR card ran out a few years ago, they felt as if I probably couldn’t help much with the situation. I didn’t get all of the details, however the police and paramedics were there. As a security measure The Warehouse management decided it was best if we closed the restrooms for a short period of time, while they cleaned up, and got the dude out of there.

I guess the part that shook me the most were the customers who were bitching at management because the restrooms were closed. And it’s not like they didn’t inform the customers that we had a “medical emergency.” Apparently though, that’s not a good enough reason for our bathrooms to be closed.

I’m not sure what’s more concerning to me. The fact that someone thought The Warehouse bathrooms were the optimal place to shoot up. Or people were pissed off about the bathrooms being closed for medical emergencies.

Boggles my mind.

I wrote this on my phone and imported it today. So if your reading this and complaining that I’m not in my car, and it’s not Sunday…. well there you go. Damn. Sticklers for accuracy I guess.

I know I’ve been writing about work a lot, but it’s really all I have. So if there is something you think would be fun for me to dissect, or rant, or joke about send it to me….

Until Next time…

So I’m a Bad Blogger….

21 11 2008

It’s true. I’ve been terrible.

As it turns out going back to work at The Warehouse has not only drained me mentally, but also physically. I’m almost always tired leaving work, no matter how long I’m there. In addition to being tired, I also find it terrible that EVERY time I get off work, I want to drink.

And I’m not talking about getting drinks with friends. I’m actually talking about drinking straight from a bottle of Jack.

Which reminds me… I need a new bottle (half gallon) of Jack. I’m just sayin.

Work is slowly killing me I think. I found out that next week (Thanksgiving) I’m scheduled to work in the Bakery. Now I’m not sure what this entails, but since people are completely lazy in this world, they would much rather go and buy an already made pumpkin pie instead of baking one themselves. So The Warehouse essentially runs thier bakery 24 hours a day during the coming week. Yeah, you read that right, 24 hours a day. Since I am seasonal, I was “picked” to be on said bakery help detail to make sure all the girls and boys have their “homemade” pumpkin pie.

I’ve heard too that I could be labeling the pies before they’re put out on the table for the people to pickup. Eight hours of pie labeling. By the way, did you also know that people will wait in a line the wraps around the ENTIRE inside wall of the building out the door to get such said pies. Heads up people…. it takes LESS TIME TO BAKE ONE!

I think the best part about my life as it is right now, is that the bakery gets to listen to a radio station whilst working. And guess which radio station they listen too…. that’s right the station I used to program.

Fucking sweet.

By the way… the tone of this blog isn’t going to get any better, so either buckle up, or go check out Perezhilton.

I had two days off this week and I relish my days off. You would think I would buckle down get some laundry done, or clean my room, or shower. I, however, do none of those things and continue to play World of Warcraft. The new expansion came out last week, and I would be lying if I said I haven’t been playing. I’ve been playing a lot. The cool thing is, most of my entire family plays. I’ve got a huge family so it’s fun when we can all share something. We all play, and sometimes we schedule times to be online so we can catch up all while killing monsters and living in a fantasy world.

I suppose I don’t have to be the guy who works at The Warehouse, lives at home with his parents, and is a lot closer to being 30 than would like to admit.

Today I took a break from that fantasy world long enough to essentially go on a date with my mom. Deep down inside I’m a huge momma’s boy. She taught me a lot in this world. She taught me how to be respectful to all sorts of people. She taught me how to treat a woman. She taught me how to drive impatiently. She taught me how to judge people. (Most of the time she taught me this every time I brought a girlfriend home to meet mom and dad. Dad liked them because they were cute, my mom judged them left/right and up and down. She’s pretty good.)

She needed to buy some new shoes for my brother and sister. My sister, entering her first year on the JV2 basketball team, needed new shoes because no one in our family of 6 boys and 1 girl (the youngest) EVER played basketball in highschool. We all played soccer, or were in theater. So the girl needed some basketball shoes, and my best friend happens to work for a giant shoe company that owns half the world. Turns out they have their employee store right here in my hometown.

Well, my best friend got my mom passes to go to the employee store, but she said she needed some help picking out shoes because she has no idea what to get. So I volunteered to go.

Sidebar: The employee store of this company is the greatest store in the world. Trust me. THE. GREATEST.

So we go to the store, and have a great time. She even picked up some shirts for me. Cause she’s that nice. I was successful in picking shoes out for both my brother and sister, and they indeed were a big hit.

After the store, she asks if she could buy me lunch. I agree and she suggest a GREAT new burger place in town called 5 Guys Burger and Fries. I had previously never eaten there and I must say, that place was awesome. All the serve is burgers and fries. Literally. The burgers my friends were awesome too. I felt like I had just eaten a burger from a friends BBQ and we were about to watch the game. These are what make good burgers.

I’ve realized I’m not a kid anymore though. I realize that in being almost 30 years old, my conversations with my mom aren’t what they used to be. We no longer talk about the game coming up this weekend. We no longer talk about what Santa is going to bring me. Instead we talk about life.

and if you didn’t know already…… life is not fun.

While eating, my mom and I started talking about health and what not. My mom informed me that at her recent Dr. appointment they found a cyst in one of her breasts. I’m immediately shocked, and I think she can tell by the look on my face. (Or the fact I dropped a french fry.) She tried to reassure me that things were actually ok. In fact they are. Turns out that as of this moment, the cyst is too small to even do a biopsy. They told her that there is nothing she can do right now because of the size of the cyst. This concerned her (and me) because my families history of breast cancer. Her mom had it, her aunt had it. So it’s common on her side of the family. The assured her that waiting is the best course of action at this time.

So, all day after the date with my mom, I’ve been thinking about things. My biggest fear in life has always been something happening to my family and me not being able to do anything about it. Although some people who are close to me, may tell you my biggest fear is the deep ocean/spiders, I can honestly tell you, it’s not. (However a close 2nd/3rd.)

I know early detection is the best action in any case. And from what she said, this is very early. So I’m glad for that.

I know most of my readers are good friends of mine. And with that being said, I didn’t write this for a pitty party. I didn’t write this for an “outpouring” of support. I wrote this because you are amazing friends.

I wrote this because I’m terrible at talking about what bothers me. I’m terrible at picking up the phone and calling people. I like to bottle things in. I, like most of the people who buy their pies, am incredibly lazy, and calling people is a lot of effort. I told a friend earlier today…. “You’ve got a good family. You’ve got good friends. And You’re healthy. These are the only real things that matter in life. Jobs, money, and all the other intangibles will work themselves out.”

I’m reminding my self of these things on a daily basis. I’ve got GREAT friends. I’ve got the most AMAZING family. And other than a broken pinky, I’m pretty healthy.

Things are looking up.

for those of you who are curious, both my aunt and grandma beat breast cancer.