Old Money and Loose Morals… Pt. 1…

22 04 2010

I know it’s been a considerable amount of time since I’ve written anything. To my fans. I apologize. To people who are new to this blog (assuming there are at least 2 people who stumbled upon this blog based on some pretty messed up search terms, which I have a feeling I’ll blog about some other time) welcome and I hope you enjoy.

I’ve decided that I’ll be trying to write more about my life and it’s current happenings, but have realized that nothing has really been going on. Yes, I’ve had my fair of drama and some ups, and even some pretty decent downs, but overall life has been essentially status quo.

Which, brings me to this particular event in my life.

You see, a couple months ago, my grandpa unfortunately passed away. It was expected and was a relief to my family because he had been fighting for so long. Fast forward to the end of February when my grandmother made a visit to our house. It was her normal hard of hearing catch phrase repeating visit that I didn’t think much of. Until she handed me an envelope. Inside was a check for a substantial amount of money to which I hurriedly tried to return saying I couldn’t take such a thing. She responded that it was indeed from my grandpa. Apparently he had stashed some money away for all his grandchildren. After wiping my eyes free of dust that had built up in the room, I hugged my grandma and said thanks. Inside the envelope was also a note… “Spend it on something fun.”

I know my grandpa. I loved my grandpa. He was awesome. He was also a prankster, a joker, and didn’t take life to seriously. Aside from a tinge of racism and loving fox news my grandpa was a great man who loved life, and wanted his grand kids to do so as well.

With that, I took a couple days to think about what I would spend the money on, and it hit me. I called up RPG in Boston and asked what his ticket situation was like. And sure enough…. within minutes, I had booked a flight and had Opening Day tickets to Red Sox v Yankees at Fenway park. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt that this would be just the type of fun my grandpa had in mind. (Even if he was an Angles fan.)

Morning of my flight came, and I had to board a plane by 730 am so an early wake up time was in store. I had packed my bags the night before and went to sleep. 5 o’clock rolled around and I made my way to the airport.

As I made my way through the security line, I began unraveling in my head what exactly I had packed and what exactly I had put it in. In my travel bag I had packed all my clothes for the journey and a small Victoria Secret shave kit bag, that I had once procured from a girlfriend who bought me Very Sexy the men’s cologne from Vicky’s. (Which by the way does smell amazing, women flock to it, however, with that being said, telling any female what fragrance you’re wearing and where you got not only raises questions, but seem like it completely emasculates you at the same time. Not a winning combo friends.)

So anyway, inside my VS bag was all my toiletries one needs for a trip. They were all placed neatly inside plastic bags just like the FAA wants me to do. If you haven’t been to the airport recently, you know now that all liquids need to be removed from your bag and scanned separately. Which is really not a big deal. And then, it dawned on me. While I removed all the liquids it left only three items remaining in the bag to be scanned through… they were indeed, my razor, my toothbrush, and a condom. (It should be noted that this is the only condom that I didn’t throw away almost an entire year ago. There is no greater indication of how your sex life is going, then writing about the same unused condom from a YEAR ago.)

That’s right. Security Agent Rose, at 6:15 am on a Thursday morning not only got an idea of what was ahead for the weekend, but she knew my intentions as well. Rose looked up from the screen and asked “Where ya headed?” To which I replied “Boston.” She gave me a quizical look that almost wanted to reprimand me right there in the terminal. I took this as a bit of an insult, looked her right in the eye and replied….

“I’m looking for old money, and loose morals. Good day.”

I would like to tell you she laughed, but she didn’t. I re-packed all my stuff and headed down to board my flight. I had prepared my self for the direct flight by stopping by Barnes and Noble the night before and picking up some books. #1 was Everything is Wrong With Me by Jason Mulgrew. #2 was The Lost City of Z. and #3 was Silver.

Now, I don’t do a lot of shilling out for things on this blog. I feel I like things. You like things. We all go about our business. However, this is a rare occasion. You see, Jason Mulgrew has written a blog for many years. Many of these years I have followed his blog and laughed. And cried (not really that’s for pussies.) Questioned my life existence and over all enjoyed most of his works. So when I read that he was releasing a book, I knew this would be the perfect time to, not only read it, but hope that one of his hot female blog readers would see me reading it, and we’d strike a bond, and I’d be sitting pretty in the Mile High Club in no time.

The Mile High portion of the previous paragraph, sadly, did not come to fruition. However the reading of the entire book on my flight did. And I gotta say friends… it was AWESOME! It was some of the funniest stuff I’ve read in a long time. I like to think I’m funny, (and if you’ve read this long I’m assuming you may too) but sometimes I feel my humor pales in comparison to what was published in this book. At one point, on a plane I was crying I was laughing so hard. Which, I’m sure was awkward for the dude next to me. Like I said, if you enjoy my humor, you’ll love this book. Go get it.

Alright enough with the shilling out… (and ps, if you didn’t like it, deal. It’s my fucking blog I’ll do what I want.)

I touchdown into Boston and a gorgeous day and was quickly picked up by RPG and whisked off to his Alumni Association first Thursday event, which really is just a bunch of people who went to college and now have real jobs, come back to get bombed at. Which as I vaguely remember my college days is the only reason Thursdays existed anyway. The drinking began at roughly 445pm. Please make note of this. I filled RPG in on the goings on around the great Northwest. How so and so is married, and how so and so is having a kid, and how so and so is still a slut (that’s right chick in my Communications class I’m calling you out!) After some time RPG’s friends with real jobs started to show up and the general merriment was under way. Drinks were flowing conversation was great, there was even some dude selling his special musical instruments that he brings to all the events.

This is also where I met KC. Now, I had only talked with KC a couple times before meeting her. At one point there was discussion on me potentially moving to Boston. KC told RPG that she indeed had a room to rent, and at the time, it was something I highly considered. KC and I chatted a bit, and she gave me the go ahead that I could indeed move in AND I could have threesomes. I felt like our friendship was going to be long lasting. (Let it be known, that while I was allowed to have threesomes had I moved in, KC is way to classy for these types of shenanigans, and I would have to procure the 2 other girls for said threesomes on my own.)

Also, let it be known that during this time, there were a LOT of Jack and Cokes being had. If I had to venture a guess… I’d put it at around 7. Rough estimate.

We left the shindig to make our way to another bar. We knew the night was coming to a close, and seeing as it was still a Thursday, people had jobs to do in the morning. However, RPG was like fucking Lewis and Clark blazing the trail to the next bar. And so we went. Went to a place right near RPG’s condo, found a seat at the bar, and attempted to give our livers sclerosis right then and there. I’m not sure at what point I decided this, but I had begun to drink straight Jack with just some ice cubes. Not one of my wisest decisions, but after say 6 more of those, things got a little hazy. And by hazy I mean completely fucking black….

If someone were to say, “hey, I’ll give you a million dollars if you can tell me A.How you got home that night? and B.Who you called that night? I’d really be out a million dollars, cause I would have had no clue. (Most these answers came to light the next day… )

Speaking of the next day, it was about this time where I thought I had lost my iPhone. Again. Yes you read that right I would have been 2 for 2 on trips to Boston and losing an iPhone. I awoke in a panic realizing I had no idea where my iPhone was. I scoured the apartment. I looked for the electrical outlet I had used last time and it wasn’t there. This is apparently where the cold sweats began. With my quick thinking I raced to my bag to see if the charger had been left in there, along with my iPhone. Apparently not. The bag was without cord or charger or phone. Fuck. It was about this time that I made one last ditch effort. I completely removed all the sheets from the bed only to find that right about where my groin area would have passed out all night, was exactly where my phone was. Which lead to a couple conclusions. #1. I wasn’t drunk texting or dialing. #2. Drunk me was smart enough to put it in a safe place. #3. I spooned my iPhone all night long. You’d think I’d be ashamed of #3, but I’m not. Not even at all.

After that whole ordeal with thinking I’d lost an iPhone again, I quickly realized my motor skills were a bit off. Really off, actually. It took roughly 5 minutes with my diminished brain capacity to realize that I was indeed, still drunk. And not just a bit boys and girls, I’m talking speech slurred, got the spins, not ready to face the day drunk. My apologies to those of you on the west coast that I texted so early in the morning. In addition to the spins, and slurred speech, math was apparently lost on me as well.

I got up, poured myself a glass of water, and essentially waited for RPG to call to finalize the itinerary for the day. (What this sentence should have really read was…. I got up, found myself a couch pillow, drank some water and watched Khloe and Kourtney Kardashian for 3 hours straight. However, I felt that sentence was a bit to emasculating. However, I top that 100 times over later in the weekend.)

To Be Continued…

Until Next Time

Email Me

Rain Up My Shorts…

15 03 2009

I suppose as of late I’ve been writing of the happenings of the world around me, and not much of my life. Reason being I suppose is that things are not going as well as I’d have hoped.

I’ll sum it up, because the details are boring, and down right sad.
Finding work, has become very trying. I’m now almost completely broke and getting close to selling my beautiful baby, my car.

However, in the last couple days I’ve actually had some fun even with my “No Fun Embargo of 09.” (While the No Fun Embargo of 09, basically consists of my trying to to spend any money, I thought I would come up with a trendy name like the newscasters do with, well, everything.)

So in my NFE 09′ I have literally tried to do as little as possible for saving money purposes. No going to friends houses, no movies, canceling Netflix, the gym (this is important) and generally honing my World of Warcraft skills to great heights.

My family, with whom I live with in either noticed my NFE 09′ for my dad mentioned some friends of his get together each Saturday morning for a pickup game of soccer. Now, in my lifetime I have known a couple of things.
#1. Playing soccer since I was 4.
#2 The Red Sox since I was 8.

This 2 things are a constant, and pretty vital part of my life. Soccer makes me happy. Playing or coaching. With me in the funk, I quickly jumped on the chance of getting together for some weekend Shenanigans. (Shenanigans is capitalized because it is St. Patrick’s Day Weekend.)

Upon arriving, I quickly realized that I was indeed one of the youngest people out there for some soccer. It was apparent much later in the game, that though I was the youngest, I was probably the most out of shape. 2 straight hours of soccer after weeks of an Embargo can almost kill a guy. Especially me.

I love to think I can draw the line between having fun and being competitive, but I can’t. Not with soccer. I have to win. I have to play hard. It’s just in me. There are a couple of things I do really well in life. One of them is soccer. (Another of them, I would brag about, but I don’t think it’s the smartest thing to do in regards to an open forum and public ridicule. Plus, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a “good game” like I’ve been accustomed to receiveing in soccer for my other skills. But hey, a self high five is still a high five.)

So not to brag, but I scored two goals and felt great. I had a blast. One thing that I can always count on to put me in a better mood, is playing. However, at some point the endorphins in my body decided they had had enough of pushing adrenaline through my body and I realized I am indeed 30, and have been sedentary for a couple weeks. I felt shooting pains in my right foot and couldn’t think of why. My quads were burning, and my back was killing me. I came home and quickly downed 600mg of Ibuprofen and grabbed a heating pad.

I decided at this moment I would find out what was wrong with my right foot. I removed the sock from my foot, and low and behold, a gigantic blister on my foot. It was at this point I remembered I had signed up to do a 5k (3.1 miles) the very next day. I am an idiot.

The Mighty Blister

The Mighty Blister

I awoke at 6:30 am the following day pulling my legs up and placing them onto the floor. It was at this point, I could HEAR the wind howling and the rain hitting my window. I was not a happy camper. I pressed on. I met up with my friend JDub and off we drove downtown to tackle the mighty 5k that was in front of us. Now, if you’ll remember earlier in my post, I have stated all of my medical ailments, and in addition to that I haven’t trained for a 5k. The only training I’ve put in lately, is sprinting down the stairs whenever my mother orders pizza or brings home fast food for lunch.

I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty sure I was in peak physical condition for the task at hand.

The rain and the winds came down as we grabbed our numbers and headed to the starting line. It was packed with tons of people, and tons of…… kids! That’s right. Kids. When people generally ask me if I like kids, my answer is usually (unless they’re hot) “I like kids. Just not yours.” So imagine my displeausre to be surrounded by a bunch of kids. And seriously, what kind of parenting book state you should take your kids out into the pouring rain and wind and run around for 3 miles. In my parenting book that’s just a bad idea. In my day, we had Nintendo World Class Track Meet (complete with Power Pad) to get our running in for the day. And look how my generation turned out.

The race started and the mass herd of people started heading out down the course. I’ve seen City Slickers a couple times and can only compare the start of this race to the cattle drive at the end of the movie. Half a mile into the race the crowd seemed to disperse a little bit. It was here I decided to make my move. I picked up my pace, leaving JDub in my wake and passing people left and right. I felt really good about myself and the run.

Fast forward to about 2.2 miles into an uphill run. I. Am. Not. Happy. For whatever reason every kid that was entered into the race decided, not only to pass me, but to jump into every muther effing puddle I was near. Imagine the shock, when not only did I have to deal with rain coming down upon my head, but indeed flying UP MY SHORTS! It’s a good thing I didn’t go commando. And let me tell you boys and girls, the water was COLD. Really cold. And it would happen roughly every .25 miles. Running minding my own business when all of a sudden… HOLY BEJEEZUS!! Not only did this increase my pace but also my disdain for children.

As the end of the race approached I felt good for the simple fact that even though I really wanted to walk, I didn’t. I persevered to the end. In fact, I felt good enough to start my “kick” and finish strong. However, my legs had other ideas. I picked up the pace and my legs felt like potato sacks filled with bricks. Each step was like taking a weightlifting class in high school, you know, where you added to much weight in case the hot girl was looking. Well, she wasn’t and my legs were dead. I saw the end and it was within my reach. However with 50 yards to go, there was a complete standstill at the end. You see really smart people who finished ahead of us, decided to take of their timing strap RIGHT THERE AT THE FUCKING END! Creating a gigantic cluster fuck and killing my time! You bastards. As we all waited my legs yelled at me for just stopping. Not a cool down jog, or even a walk. I went from running at a fast pace, to stopped. My legs were pissed. As was I. My time was effed.

I cooled down and finally met up with JDub after losing her like a little kid at Disneyland. However, oddly enough (not really) I found her standing near the Beer Garden line. Go figure. I looked around and realized, that I in fact did not want beer. So we went to the sponsoring bar and kicked back Jack and Cokes. Thats right, 3.1 miles. 9:00 am. Sunday. Jack and Cokes.

It’s how I roll.

Upon finding my race time later that night, I’m quite ok with my time. 37 minutes (which I would think is closer to 35 minutes considering the log jam at the end. And considering my propensity towards Carl’s Jr, Little Caesers Pizza, Dairy Queen Chicken Strip Basket with Gravy, that is a pretty good time)

I Barney Stinsoned that 5k and made it my bitch.

Of course after seeing one dude did it in 15 minutes, I felt highly out of shape. That dude however was probably driven by the fact that the winner wins his/her weight in beer. I can’t say I like beer that much.

Until next time…


Gladys Knight, Bridesmaids, and Tragedy on the Dance Floor pt. 2…

16 07 2008

Before you read further, if you haven’t done so already please read part one.


The setup of the wedding was gorgeous. It was almost as if the two places were entirely unrelated to each other. Quite the contradiction if you ask me… but what do I really know.

The bridesmaids began their ascension to said “altar,” my Ex being one of these bridesmaids. Now I’ve been to a lot of weddings. And I’ve seen some pretty decent lineups. But to be honest folks, this was probably the best lineup of bridesmaids I’ve ever seen in my entire life. From top to bottom all of the girls looked gorgeous.

What was more fun, was that I knew almost all of them from college. I think that made it even better. Sometimes people go on and thier metabolism kicks in, and they ultimately have no choice in the matter. Luckily enough, these women did not have this problem.

However, the problem they did have was that most of them (5 outta 6) were already married. Which, I mean, is cool for them. I’m not actually sure it’s even a “problem” I’m just saying for the entire group of single guys (RPG and I) it’s just sometimes nice to attend a wedding where some bridesmaids get hammered and make out with random people…. (I smell foreshadowing)

The vows were said, the “I do’s” exchanged, and the special just married music played. After a short stint, people started to go and get their grub on. RPG and I of course waited until the line got a lot shorter. It was so much that the line was long, but we had just cracked open two Corona bottles and felt the need to stay strong together seeing as we only knew each other, aside from the bridesmaids.

Our little table of gayness (I looked great, RPG looked smashing, both sitting with each other, sipping Corona bottles in the middle of PBR country) was soon to be broken up by our wonderful friend Meg and her mother. We took this fine opportunity to catch all three of us up on our life goings on. Let me tell, it’s exceedingly hard to try to impress people by commenting on the amount of gaming you have done in recent months. At some point you realize that your gaming skills and current living arraignments are not going to impress anyone. So you must try other things. I went with my drinking abilities.

It was soon after RPG, Meg, and I were all caught up with each other that the bridesmaids had started convening around our table. Apparently the only other people they knew at the wedding were RPG and I also. So we went from looking gay, to REALLY looking gay for the simple fact that ALL the women were around. We should have timed it so a couple would come up slowly as the night progressed. I’m sure we were a couple pillows, and a face mask short of a slumber party in most the wedding goers minds.

Aside from the slumber partyesque look of our table, it really was nice getting to talk to some old college friends, and actually get to see/talk to my “date.” Thats right for those of you scoring at home, The Ex and I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to chat until everything was all said and done. The Ex and I have quite the history. I could bore you all with it now, but I’m going to sum it up very quickly.

Not Together.
Dating Other People.
Lil Baby. (not mine.)
Not Talking.
Years Pass.
Friends Again.

That’s basically it. In a nutshell. Well, not so much a nutshell, but in word form.

Anyway, the night went on, and my date The Ex continued to drink a little bit more than she’s used to. I mean why not it is a celebration. RPG, Meg, the other bridesmaids and myself, all followed suit in drinking it up celebration style.

As it began to get dark we moved into the barn were it was lit up with tea lights, and white christmas lights all over. Again, it was like two weird worlds colliding to make me forget I was dancing in a barn.

At one point the younger people at the wedding formed two lines facing each other and two people matched up and danced down the middle of it. Similar to this scene in Hitch. It was a ton of fun. And yes, there was a robot or two. By me. There may have been a shopping cart maneuver. By me. And there may have been a dice maneuver made famous by Knocked Up.

However folks. This dice maneuver was NOT done by myself. At one point in the free for all dance off I was talking with a gentleman who was to go before me. As we were already on round three of four we both mentioned that we were running out of moves. As any white guy will tell you (aside from Justin Timberlake) our dance moves arsenal is very limited. So coming to the realization that I had one move left, I decided to say to this young gentleman….

Me: “Hey, I’m probably going to do the dice move…”
DANCE STEALER: “DUDE, sweet idea, I’m totally stealing it.”
Me: “Wait. What? Dude, you can’t……”

and with that he was off. Down the middle of the group with said hot bridesmaid pulling off what I can only describe as my stolen dance move. That bastard.

But now, I had to think quick on my feet. I didn’t have a back up move. I had to reach back into my mind… Find a dance move dammit! Find one quick!!!!!

And then it happened.

I panicked. The only thing that came to my mind was Jump On It from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. And down the middle I went. It wasn’t the full dance, pretty much just the hip movements and maybe a little riding the pony. Maybe.

This my friends, however was NOT the tragedy on the dance floor that is mentioned in the title.

The wedding was coming to a close. So off we headed to change and get ready to meet up with all the wedding party at some bar in “town.” On our way back, a song came on the local radio station that RPG nor I had heard in years. Gladys Knight, Midnight Train to Georgia. I can’t tell you how much I love this song. Probably because I had forgotten how much of a classic it was and for the simple fact it wasn’t in my iTunes library.

So of course the system was cranked, and RPG and I shared another gay moment. Belting out at the top of our lungs, slamming my hands on the dashboard to the beat of the song, and all in all having a blast listening to the Pips, back up Ms. Knight as she carried us home. I’m smiling now just thinking about it again.

Back at Jenny’s place, RPG and I changed and waited for 3 of the bridesmaids including The Ex and Jenny, to meet up and head out. Jenny knew where we were going, so we all piled into the car and headed to the happening spot in Prineville on a Saturday night.

Now normally I wold remember the names of place we go so that I could write about them later. Unfortunately friends, I have no recollection of the name of the place we went. It really didn’t matter. We paid a 5 dollar cover (WTF?) and proceeded inside. We set up camp near the bar, thinking this would be the best place for us to readily get drinks when need be.

First round of drinks were on me. And once again, I found myself only buying a drink for RPG seeing as the minute the girls walked in the door, they were taken care of by all sorts of dudes. Can’t say I wasn’t a tad jealous. So gay moment number 12 for the wedding weekend.

We got our drinks and the greatest revelation came to me upon purchasing the round. According to my receipt, one Jack and Coke and one Coors Light came to approx $7. SEVEN DOLLARS! HOLY HELL this is great! I’ll be drinking all night! AND CHEAPLY! THANK THE LORD FOR SMALL TOWN ECONOMIES!!!

I decided that since I was drinking quite a bit at the wedding I would casually drink at the bar. Besides I wanted all my faculties for taking notes and people watching. But that all came to an abrupt end.

I guess its cool to adorn your little bar with metal high-backed chairs. I don’t think anyone would ever see this as causing a problem. Maybe it was because for the first time I decided to wear flip-flops out to a bar. And this was God’s way of punishing me. For somehow some way that chair came crashing down.


That is all I said as I stood there in the middle of our group. I took that son of a bitch like a man. Up here I would have looked around to see who’s ass I could kick. But I shortly realized I was a pilgrim in an unholy land. The only person to probably have my back would have been RPG, and while I would gladly take this on any given day, we were outnumbered. So, I just said fuck.

At first the pain didn’t kick in. Then I realized, that my toe had probably been broken under the weight of this massive metal chair. Upon further inspection I realized however, I was indeed bleeding. Upon further review with Meg’s camera, I realized my toe was indeed fucked.

The beer is definitely not mine.

The beer is definitely not mine.

It was at this point, that I realized I had no health insurance to help me out. So, instead of seeing a Dr. I did the next best thing. I drank. And friends I drank a lot to dull the pain. It worked. The pain had subsided for the night. Sort of.

However, I was not the only one drinking outta their minds. The Ex, decided she too needed some help from the mighty alcohol gods. So, there we all were. RPG, Meg and I to one side of the bar, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen near the other. Everyone having a good time…. when BAM! Everyone saw it coming except the two of them.

The Ex, and one of the groomsmen were making out on the dance floor. I’m not talking about a little kisses and pecks my friends, no it was full on making out. It was gloriously funny. I was proud of her. She was finally getting some from a decent guy after going months with dating douchebags and a-holes. (not me.) It was a site to see. I’m laughing now thinking about it.

The nights observations did not end there. As I continued to dull the pain, and The Ex continued to make out, I couldn’t help but notice a table of cougars ready to pounce. I’m not sure if it was me, or if it was RPG, but I do know, they wouldn’t let any little “young thing” stand in there way. They were on the prowl, and had we not hightailed it outta there, I reckon one of us would have been caught. A big thanks to the women who saved us from our impending doom.

Lastly. It is worth mentioning that Meg found a special place in my heart when she came up to me and was like, Look over there. There is a pregnant woman in a bar. Indeed folks, there was a VERY pregnant lady in the bar. It pained me to see the pregnant lady. I really had wished she had a kid there, so we could have all had the pleasure of quoting Sweet Home, Alabama (the movie not the song.) In saying… You have a baby. In a bar!

So, all in all I say this past weekend was a great success. Aside from my “date” making out with someone else. My toe getting black and blue, with a hint of red. And the long ass car rides (made enjoyable by both RPG, The Ex, and Ferguson.) Weddings are a great time. Seeing good friends after an extended period of time, is even better. Combine those two elements and what you get, is one amazing weekend.