MLS WEST TEAMS AS BEVERLY HILLS 90120 CHARACTERS –
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.
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!
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.”
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 SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com. 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.
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.
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. http://www.battlefieldsports.com/submachinegun.htm
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
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 WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:
The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.
Crunchy numbers
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 facebook.com, twitter.com, sittingpugs.wordpress.com, search.aol.com, and teachermegpie.blogspot.com.
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.
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…
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.
Longhorns...
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.
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
Fierce
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….
Sincerely,
Me.
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.)
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com
I’m trying to post a bit more. I know the last three posts were a bit epic in nature, but I’m pulling back the horses on those for a bit. I mean really, my Boston trip took quite a bit outta me.
I’ve noticed recently that I’ve been repeating the same five songs on my iPod over and over lately and figured I’d share that with all of you. Hence the title, So Hot Right Now, because much like Hansel from Zoolander, these songs are So Hot Right Now.
Of course, some of these are old, some of them you’ve probably heard a hundred times over, but I don’t care. They’re awesome, and I love em right now. Seriously… So Hot…
Without further ado…
City and Colour – The Girl
This song here… I love. Like Love it. It’s the type of song, that if I had any musical talent whatsoever, I would hypothetically write and hypothetically play for my hypothetical girlfriend. I also imagine myself getting a whole crap load of tattoos and ultimately being totally hip and cool. But alas, I was blessed with athletic ability and ruggishly handsome good looks, so I’ll have to settle for that. Damn you musicians.
This song is old after doing some research, and some of you may have known it for some time, but up until my friend JDalt, and K-B posted it on their facebook pages, I had no idea. One of my favorites for so many reasons. JDalt and K-B also call me “perfect,” so if you don’t like this song, well blame them for their judgment being REALLY off.
Phantogram – Mouthful of Diamonds
Ok, this is by far one of my favorite songs of all time. It’s literally that good. I’m not exactly sure what it is, or why, but I can’t get enough of this song.
The funny thing is, I was close to never hearing about this song or even this group. Back in January, I took a little trip to the mall to pick up my new iPhone. (after losing one in a cab 5 month earlier.) At the time, I was hanging out with a nice young lady, and took her with me. Well, she was in need of a Starbucks fix, something I know nothing about because I don’t drink coffee, or frappaccino (sp) grande latte do-hickeys. So we stopped off at the Starbeezy and while she ordered and waited for her drink I perused the store, and up at the counter they had their free download of the week. And there it was. I picked it up and put it in my pocket only to forget about it for a couple days. Later that week, I grabbed the jeans, and found the download. I fired up the old iTunes and was blown away. Not going to lie, I listened to that sucker like 500 times. Turned out to be a pretty awesome day all in all… New phone. New song. And I think we went to Red Robin after all. Nice little Saturday.
(ps, Phantogram is going to be at Sasquatch music festival, so look for them to become really awesome, and for lots of people to be like “i knew about them forever.” You can also feel free to tell them you found out about them here first. Then you can do the whole *cough* bullshit *cough* thing. Which is always a crowd pleaser. Check out Phantogram here.)
La Roux – Bulletproof
I can’t really give this song a description without coming off as a 12 year old girl that has recently been dumped. Since I’m neither 12 nor recently dumped, I have no real reason reason as to why I love this song. The video sucks, and to be honest had I seen it with the volume down, I probably wouldn’t like it much at all. And apparently this is a group too? Right? Like there is some hidden keyboardist that just rocks out behind the recycled 80’s motif. Speaking of, I’m a little bummed I missed out on being an 80’s keyboardist. I really think I would have been pretty awesome at it. I mean one qualification would be my long flowing locks when I grow them out, could have been manipulated into something really awesome with enough AquaNet. Just saying.
On a side note, I play this song really loud in my car. However, when I pull up to stoplights I turn it down. Quick poll, if you heard this bumping from a ruggishly handsome man in a semi decent car would you think he was a) gay. b) up on the latest music. c) gay AND up on the latest music or d.) fucking awesome and want to make out with him right away.
These are things I need to know.
I love YouTube, I really do. This isn’t really much of a video, but this song comes off of Kanye’s Freshman Adjustment mixtape/unreleased album. I’m unsure how I came across this album, but I love this song too. Most of you familiar with Kanye’s stuff will notice it’s the same Lyrics to Homecomming, which he did with Chris Martin from Coldplay. Cool song and all, but for some reason this song feels better. Maybe it’s cause John Legend is on it, and I love John Legend. Maybe it’s the sampling, I’m not sure. (Maybe it’s just because it’s toned down in the douche department because Chris Martin isn’t on it. Maybe.) What I am sure of, is how awesome it is. This is why it’s So Hot Right now… (ps, that may have been a record right there of how many times I can work the title into a blog. I’m not sure.)
Justin Beiber – Baby
Well, come on. You all knew this was coming. And I think my four previous submissions in this blog give me a little leeway with admitting to like this terribly written pop drivel. (But deep down, LOVE this.) I really can’t listen to this song without a little smile on my face. Previously, Party in the USA was my go to good feeling song, and previous to that it was MMMBop. Yup, you read that all 100% correct. Somewhere, there is a socially awkward 30 year old chick with Hanson posters on her wall still, just waiting to marry me. Somewhere.
This is a dedication really, to JP in Boston, JDalt in Austin, McNulty in Albany, Nira here in Portland, MichRod in Dallas and all my other ladies that have Bieber Fever. And yes, I’m working on learning Luda’s part….
Now I’m all gone….
Until Next time
Email Me (with requests or recommendations.)
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com
By the way, if you’ve missed parts 1 and 2, make sure to click the numbers to catch up….
With that being said this blog is a little bit more vulgar than one may be used too… so fair warning.
RPG, JP, me, and RPG’s friend all took off from Joe’s to this Irish bar. It was a cool place, and on any given night I would have loved to have stayed there and drink some more casually. However on this night, I was looking to do serious damage to my liver, and potentially sleep with some random slut I found at a bar.
So we were on the move again. We had decided to walk our way to a bar called Whiskey’s. Along the walk RPG figured he needed to pull out some more cash so we could continue on killing our liver with copious amounts of booze and more than likely a pizza at 2 am. (The 2 am pizza has become a particular favorite Boston tradition when I venture out there. It’s been known to happen to have 4 guys demolish 2, yes thats right 2, extra large pizza’s at an ungodly hour of the morning.)
At the ATM vestibule, JP couldn’t help but notice a rather stunning blonde prancing around in some insane heels. I can’t really say I noticed at first because I was busy staring at said blonde’s ass. But then, I caught sight of them, and it just came out. I couldn’t really help it. I had been drinking. I noticed the heels, and thus replied, “those are cute. A girl I dated has a pair of those. They were hot.” I can’t say I tried to stop it. It just came out. Like gay word vomit. JP laughed and asked if I knew where she got them, to which I said no. And in all honesty I didn’t know where she had gotten them. Which doesn’t save my masculinity by any means. I offered to call the girl and ask where she gotten them, but I must not have been drunk enough, because when JP told me to do it, I realized at that moment it probably wasn’t the best idea for me to be call this particular girl. High five drunk me!
We carried on to Whiskey’s. At this point in time, I felt it was time to do some serious damage. RPG got the first round of drinks and we were happily on our way to getting just smashed. Whiskey’s is themed like a country/western/biker bar and so the girls dress accordingly. Slutty. Which is pretty much what I like anyway. We found a spot in the bar to post up in, and our waitress (who wore jean cutoff shorts and a wife beater, class.) came up and got our drink order.
At about this point in the night, things took a turn… I ordered some German Chocolate Cake shots and somehow we got on the topic of porn. I’m not sure how things got there, but they did. Wait, never mind, I do know how we got on to the topic of porn. In fact, I know the exact porn technique we talked about and how it came up.
You see, back in college RPG and I had some pretty colorful terminology. Part of this may have been because we drank a lot and our vocabulary went right out the window. The other part could have been because we were 20 something year old dudes, that really had no particular place where our language would need to be cleaned up. So, I’m not sure who coined it first (I did) and I’m not sure why we continued to say it (cause it was funny) but back when something was incredibly crazy, or some said something that was unbelievable, or something/someone was getting screwed by the man, RPG and I would usually say….
“Are you fist fucking me!?!?”
Class. 24. 7.
So on this particular night, one of us had said something that I couldn’t believe and I replied, “are you fist fucking me!?!” To which JP laughed and shook her head. She then made a vital mistake… one that more than likely cost her innocence. JP exclaimed… “I don’t think that’s possible.” Now, back in the day without technology this would have gone unnoticed or left alone until it could be proven at a later date. Say with a joke birthday gift from the porn store. However, in this day in age, all three of us guys had iPhone and we decided to prove (scientifically of course) that indeed fist fucking was possible. RPG did a search, (which to be honest took a lot less time than I thought) and boom, there it was. Actual video proof, that not only was fist fucking possible, it apparently could be done with more than one fist.
(On a side note, I can’t say I’ve actually seen a porn with fist fucking in it. Now don’t get your panties all in a bunch, I like my porn as much as the next guy, but really I have my limitations. Guy and girl, girl and girl, 3 ways, those are more my thing. You start adding extra curricular to the porn I am out. I like my porn to be a little more wholesome thank you very much.)
JP handled the affair with class and dignity, and maybe a little bit of awe. Who’s to say. After watching the video, we took the shot and got another round. However, it must be said, that these were the WORST German Chocolate Cake shots I’ve EVER had. And I’ve had my fair share of these shots my friends. They were terrible. And for some reason, the Bartender didn’t sugar the rim. I LOVE A SUGARED RIM!!! So of course I told the group that this bartender sucks, because he “left out the sugared rim!” (ps, for those of you keeping score at home, that TWO times I’ve emasculated myself on this night. And sadly, more to come.)
We continued to have half decent conversation about who knows what. This is where things begin to get a bit fuzzy. JP wasn’t feeling great after the poorly made GCC shot, (nor was anyone else for that matter) so we decided to call it a night. RPG’s friend took off and went who knows where. RPG, JP, and I all hopped into a cab to make it safely home to RPG’s. At one point, on the way home it was mentioned we wished the cabbie would put on some awesome tunes for us to get us home. He either didn’t hear us or didn’t want to have a taxicab confessions night complete with karaoke. At this point, JP busted out her iPhone and we began singing the hits. Not well of course, but that didn’t matter. And then it happened….
Baby. by Justin Bieber.
I may loose some readership for this, but I really like this song. And I’m being 100% honest and serious. I love it. I don’t know what it is. It’s pure pop crap, but it gets me every time. Like, every. Fucking. Time. I’d like to think that admitting this would get me laid. You know, cause of the whole honesty angle. Then I realize that chicks aren’t always all about the honesty angle. They’d rather you keep a secret like that deep down, and never speak of it again. I figure this is apparently why I’m single, but ladies, if you’re looking, I am an honest guy, I just happen to have a thing for really catchy pop music. (I can’t help it.)
(ps, This is by far the most emasculating thing I can admit. Strangely enough, it’s also the 3rd for this trip.)
JP and I karaoke our asses off in the back of that cab (complete with me trying to do the Ludacris part). It was pretty fucking sweet. I’m pretty sure at this time, RPG was looking out the window trying to count the minutes till it was all going to be over, like the rape scene in Shawshank Redemption.
The cab dropped of JP, and we made our way victoriously back to RPG’s. Where… we ordered pizza. And it was good.
Sunday morning/afternoon, we got up because we were invited to brunch over at KC’s house. It was also Easter sunday, and the Opening day for the Red Sox. Which we would be attending later that evening. KC had worked all morning long and made a wonderful feast for us to help ease the hangover that some of us had. I wasn’t so much hungover as I was dehydrated so I started off the morning with a mimosa. Which I don’t normally drink, but hey, when in Rome. Once the meal was all cooked we moved our party out onto the Veranda and continued to drink mimosas and have brunch. Not going to lie, it was pretty freaking awesome. Mimosas on the veranda remind me of this video….
Makes me laugh every time. After brunch, it was so insanely nice out that everyone decided to head down to the park and drink. Those who know me, know that I’m not really one for lounging outside in parks and shit, but we brought a ton of beer, and well, I didn’t drive. So down to the park we went, where we saw one of the worst egg hunts in the history of egg hunts. The worst part was it was a group of 20 something’s obviously still high/drunk from the night before. Left like 10 eggs laying around. Of course, none of use went over to get one of the left over eggs, for fear there were used needles or heroin inside the eggs. Plus, we were to busy drinking beers from Red Cups.
After our adventures on the veranda, we continued back to KC’s house were her and her boyfriend BBQ’d their asses off. Not going to lie, it was good to get some more food in me, because not only was I one mimosas, and 4 beers deep, but I had also been out in the sun, which accelerates my hunger/grumpiness/drunkeness. We continued to drink and eat and generally have an amazing day. Little did we know the day had just begun, along with all the awesomeness.
WE made it back to RPG’s house, and we took a minute to change and get prepared for our trip to Fenway Park. Which, really just means we went back to RPG’s and took a shot or two for the ride down to Fenway. The atmosphere was electric around Fenway Park that night. It was opening night, the Yankees were in town, and RPG, and I were getting ready for an unforgettable night. (sort of.) They unfurled a HUGE American flag on the Green Monster to begin the game. Which was a site to see in and of itself, however, the bigger sights came just moments later. The PA announcer geared us up, and announced that PEDRO FUCKING MARTINEZ was home in Fenway Park throwing out the first pitch! I knew we were in for something special and I was not let down.
For the 7th inning stretch, Steven Fucking Tyler of Aerosmith came out and sang God Bless America with his daughter. That was pretty effing cool. I mean Steven Tyler was still alive. Who knew. I was texting with JDub during most of the game as she was at home watching on ESPN. I told her all the cool stuff that was going down, and she half jokingly said, “if Neil Diamond comes out, you can die happy.” to which I replied, “I know right. And then, the most awesomest thing ever happened. NEIL FUCKING DIAMOND came out to sing Sweet Caroline with the Fenway Faithful.
NEIL FUCKING DIAMOND!!!
The whole place went insane. It was an amazing site to see and hear, and what a night of Awesomeness. Pure, unadulterated, awesomeness. And yes, I could probably die happy, however, I’d at least like to have sex one more time. Just sayin.
The night ended on an amazing comeback by the Red Sox and we left Fenway park just insanely happy. Tradition has it, that we roll over to the Cask N’ Flagon, but on this night, things were a bit different. We chose to go over to the Bleacher Bar (which has an amazing view of the Fenway outfield because it’s under the grandstands) T’was my first visit to the bleacher bar, and unlike last time where I celebrated Irish Wake Style, we were in full celebration mode, which meant, 5 jack and cokes in at little over an hour. We closed down Bleacher Bar with some other rowdy Sox fans and made our way back to RPG’s via a cab.
On the way home, we both decided to get some food, and of course we came to the conclusion, pizza. However, this was Sunday night, and not just any Sunday night but Easter. RPG tried to get ahold of the pizza place but any rational person would have known they were closed already. So RPG had the driver drop us off at a gas station, because back in college RPG and I feasted on the bag of chips for 99 cents that you covered in processed melted cheese. Ahhh the good life. However, the gas station was also closed, and I found myself needing to pee. Now, to be completely honest the next few events were really fuzzy.
All I really remember, was being in some alley, and RPG shouting my name, because I took it upon myself to find somewhere to pee. Mission accomplished. However, being in a dark alley, may not have been the smartest drunken mistake of my life. (But shit, since I’m writing about these events I’m obviously ok. High five drunken me!)
We settled in back at RPG’s, and I’m not sure if we ever got any food or not. I don’t really even remember the last 2 hours of the night. All I know was the Sox won, Neil Diamond sang at Fenway, and I was there. It was one of the best trips of my life. And worth every single minute.
After I touched down in Portland after the best trip I’ve taken, I couldn’t help but think, this was exactly what my grandpa had in mind. Cheers to you Gramps.
and ps, how awesome am I that I can have Fisting and Justin Beiber in the same blog?? Awesome.
ps again, I’m not exactly sure how awesome Gramps would have thought that last statement was.
So we last left off I was still drunk laying on the couch watching the Kardashians take miami. It was the episode where Kourtney was being auctioned off for a date by her sister Khloe. Not going to lie I was a little bit intrigued by this turn of events, and actually wondered if I were in Miami if I’d a had a shot with Kourtney.
I must add this, Kourtney is my #2 Kardashian. I can’t help it. I LOVE Kim. I find her wildly attractive, and she’s famous for being adventurous in the bedroom. A plus in my book.
So after a few episodes, RPG finally called and laid out the game plan for the day. #1. Get some food at Coolidge Corner Clubhouse. #2. He had to work, so I was going to go to the Red Sox team shop on Yawkey Way. #3. We’d be hitting the Celtics game later that night. #4. Potentially meeting up with one of my favorite Bostonians, JP who we last met on my last adventure to Boston.
I showered, got dressed and decided to face the day. RPG came to pick me up, and at this point, after taking such a hot shower, I realized that I had indeed progressed the drunken state I was in because of the hot water. Sweet. Still drunk at noon on a Friday. Mind you, not a first, however, most of the times I’ve been drunk at noon, I started the same day. Not a carryover from the night before. And no, I still don’t think I have a problem.
We arrived at CCC and seeing how RPG was starting to pre-game for the C’s game, we both ordered drinks. I went with my old stand by Jack and coke, RPG went with something else… I was too drunk to pay attention. Then the strangest thing happened. As we were waiting for our food to arrive, I immediately was hung over. Like BAM. Instantaneously HUNG the fuck OVER. The waitress brought me my drink, and I recoiled with a stomach convulsion. (some people call this a dry heave, I would like to think I’m better than that….) I looked at the drink, looked at RPG, back at the drink, back at RPG and said… “I’m not sure I can do it.” RPG looked at me with disgust, which I would actually like to think was a bit more disappointment.
I’m not going to lie folks. This was tough. I was staring a Jack and Coke dead in the face, with a chicken sandwich and fries to the right. Normally, I don’t get hung over. Normally I can start the very next day with drinking. This particular Jack and Coke was my nemesis.
My Worthy Opponent...
There it is boys and girls. The ONLY Jack and Coke I’ve left as a wounded solider. I got halfway through the drink and couldn’t finish. I had been bested. Well done my friend. You were a worthy adversary.
RPG left to head back to work, and I was left to my own devices. Which meant walking downtown and finding the Red Sox team store. It really wasn’t hard to find, but dammit it was bright out, and I had forgotten my sunglasses. Having my eyes completely dehydrated from boozing, then walking out into the bright sun, not my finest decision making of the trip. However I pressed on. Found the team store, and actually had a grand ole time.
Now this little trip of mine, probably took me a good 3 hours of my day. Walking around Boston is not an easy task. I hadn’t eaten much all day, nor had much to drink. The sun was beating down on me, and I started to feel like Lawrence of Arabia… It was at this moment where I decided to get back to RPG’s as quickly as possible. Here is where the enormity of my hangover/drunkenness came to play. I settled down on a little park bench to take a bit of a breather. Next to me were a line of cabs. In which one driver asked if I needed a ride to which I replied no. I was determined to figure out where I was and take the T back to RPG’s place. I busted out the iPhone, even found myself a little map of the T’s routes. My brain was just not having it. All those squiggly lines on the map, and my iPhone taking its sweet ass time. I said (verbally no less) fuck it. And got myself a cab.
A wise decision, however, not another one of my best. Because of my current state, I picked the closest one. Got inside and distinctly said “Comm Ave please….” and off we went. I sat in the back of the cab, and began smelling something insanely vile. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause of the smell, but it rested on one of two things… The cabbie himself or his lunch. Whatever it was, was making me nauseous. This was bad… I reached for the window in hopes that the fresh air would help and not have me throw up something probably a little more vile than this gentleman’s lunch. To my dismay the window had already been down. I sat in the back and told myself, mind over matter, mind over matter. HURRY THE FUCK UP!!!
Just as my Vomit Threat Level was hitting Orange, the driver began to pull over and was looking at me to exit the vehicle. He turned to me in the back seat, and said “Her ya go. Brookline Ave.”
wait… Brookline Ave? That’s not what I said… I said Comm Ave. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh Shit. He took me to the wrong place. I calmly informed the gentleman that I indeed had said, Comm Ave, not Brookline. I may have also mentioned very politely, how these two sound nothing alike. At all. Like, I’m curious as to how you could mistake them. I’m sure it’s a common mistake sir, my apologies.
After some confusion, (my bet was the English language) he did some fancy maneuvering and gotten me to Comm Ave post haste…. crisis averted.
I finally arrived back at RPG’s and headed straight to my previous location. The couch. I was happy to see that the Kardashians take Miami was still on. It’s like the drunk gods above placed my day on pause so I could resume it at my earliest convenience. I took a nice little nap till RPG got back, and was delight to hear him come in the door and announce, “I shall take a nap before tonight’s proceedings.” Epic win. (He may have also ridiculed me in my choice of entertainment on TV. Whatever.
Friday nights events we really not that exciting. Part of it was my hungover-ness. Part was RPG did work all day. The Celtics lost etc etc… so we essentially just called it a night. I think we would have gone out had JP and her friends made the trek outta her condo. But alas, all was for not, and we just packed it in. Which was probably a good idea because Saturday was a giant shit show….
We woke up the next day to beautiful sunshine outside, and booze on our minds. RPG put out the call that we would be heading down to Joe’s American Bar and Grill. They had an outdoor patio section with a retractable roof, and this particular Joe’s was right on Newbury Street, which apparently is a pretty awesome place to be. (I can’t argue with this fact, it was pretty awesome. Tons of food, shopping, and on a nice day like this day.. women. LOTS of women. It was like my heaven.)
We moseyed our way into the patio section and had to wait for some tables. The place was packed with a ton of people who apparently had the same idea we had. RPG and I began to down beverage after beverage, because that is exactly what you do to stay hydrated when it’s 80 degrees outside. Drink.
After sometime of putting down drink after drink, and me staring at beautiful women, and making fun of douchebags we finally got a table. (Let it be known, that this was indeed like 2-3 hours before we got our table. We really didn’t mind, it was so nice outside and the views were incredible. Plus RPG and I can have bullshit conversations till the cows come home.) After we had gotten our table, RPG (much like he did in college) put out his social Bat Signal and sure enough friends started filling in the empty seats we had. KC, who we previously met in part 1, brought her man down and her 2 friends that were visiting from Florida. More drinks were had and the conversations were awesome. At one point, some dude decided to start playing the bagpipes. Which to be honest, happens quite a lot in Boston. (and yes, most people in Boston hate that shit… however, all bagpipers know, tourists eat that shit up. As is true with this particular dude… )
The shit really hit the fan when JP showed up. At that moment, while proclaiming it was indeed her birthday the festivities took a major turn. And by major turn, I mean we started to get more drunk. Many topics of conversations were had, like “JP, how come you didn’t bring your friends out last night, so I can try to sleep with one of them? I mean we’re both on vacation? I would have walked them back to your place…on my way to Whole Foods.” To which JP replied… “Ever the present gentleman, it’s a wonder I didn’t bring them around!” We had a ton of fun drink Jack and Cokes, and Sangria.
JP began to get a bit tipsy and started a relationship with our waiter… and by relationship I mean, she said, I”ll have this… and he took that as “I’m ready to jump your bones.” One could see how the connection was born. The whole time JP would chat with the waiter, he’d return a volley and smile the biggest smile. What was a tad alarming, was the lack of teeth in said waiters mouth. And, the ones he did have, apparently had never met a Crest white strip. We all had a great laugh about that, and even more so when the waiter brought JP an “on the house” birthday slice of cake. We gave her a hard time, until JP bit into something really hard… We all looked down on her plate, and sure enough, what was laying there looked exactly like our waiters tooth!!
We all FREAKED out and started doing the “EEEWWWW” thing that 8 year olds do… upon closer inspection it was determined to be some sort of misplaced nut. (That’s what she said) JP decided that, cake, may not be her best option. So it was determined that booze was. We all got some more drinks in our system, and by this time it was night fall. We felt that sitting at Joe’s was not going to cut it for us, so RPG, JP, RPG’s friend, and I all decided to hit the town…
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