Well, it looks like some enterprising U$C fan with too much time on his hands shares my sentiments about the "spoiled" part. Check out Hitler defending Carroll in what might be the most hilarious Downfall remix to date.
Pure awesome.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Space/time continuum redux: Hitler gets it right
Anyone that that knows me knows that I love college football. It's my favorite spectator sport. And almost anyone that knows how much I love college football knows how much I hate USC. I hate them for alot of reasons: I hate the fact that they cheat; I hate the fact that everyone knows they cheat and they still get away with it; I hate their ghetto front-runner fans; I hate their spoiled crybaby fans...I could go on.
Well, it looks like some enterprising U$C fan with too much time on his hands shares my sentiments about the "spoiled" part. Check out Hitler defending Carroll in what might be the most hilarious Downfall remix to date.
"FLORIDA PLAYS CHARLESTON FUCKING SOUTHERN! THAT'S NOT EVEN A REAL PLACE!!!"
Pure awesome.
Well, it looks like some enterprising U$C fan with too much time on his hands shares my sentiments about the "spoiled" part. Check out Hitler defending Carroll in what might be the most hilarious Downfall remix to date.
Pure awesome.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
When Keepin It Real goes wrong: Detroit Lions Edition
Last Sunday the Vikings played the Lions at Ford Field. The Lions lost (disappointing, but no surprise) and Adrian Peterson was stifled for most of the day, putting me in a fantasy football hole that I would need 207 yards by Frank Gore to climb out of (disappointing and shocking.)
However, even if the action on the field was boring, my fellow Michiganders decided to keep it lively with an exciting in-stands melee. Observe:
The description of what started the ruckus, from the guy who filmed it: "The two girls in front of us were drunk before the game started. They grabbed one of our signs and trashed it (real classy) because we're Vikings fans, and then spent most of the first half mocking us instead of watching the game because the Lions were ahead.
They left their seats and we thought they were gone for good but somehow they managed to buy even more beer and get back to their seats. They were spilling beer on themselves, the seats, and some of the other fans. After they spilled quite a bit of beer on the guys in the row below them, they turned around and told them to SIT DOWN. One girl didn't like that so she poured the rest of her beer on his head. Then I knew it was time to start the camera."
Well done, sir. Isn't technology grand?
However, even if the action on the field was boring, my fellow Michiganders decided to keep it lively with an exciting in-stands melee. Observe:
The description of what started the ruckus, from the guy who filmed it: "The two girls in front of us were drunk before the game started. They grabbed one of our signs and trashed it (real classy) because we're Vikings fans, and then spent most of the first half mocking us instead of watching the game because the Lions were ahead.
They left their seats and we thought they were gone for good but somehow they managed to buy even more beer and get back to their seats. They were spilling beer on themselves, the seats, and some of the other fans. After they spilled quite a bit of beer on the guys in the row below them, they turned around and told them to SIT DOWN. One girl didn't like that so she poured the rest of her beer on his head. Then I knew it was time to start the camera."
Well done, sir. Isn't technology grand?
On Roadtrips, Purple Rain, Johnny Appleseed and Saying I Love You
So last week, I get a call from my friend Amanda. She’s calling me because she has an extra ticket to the Rascal Flatts concert at Memorial Coliseum in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Better yet, the concert tickets are free (courtesy of her friend Veronica, who is friends with the guy that owns their tour bus) and she’s got a hookup on a hotel room as well: $30 bucks for the night. Am I in?
Doing some quick math, I decide Hellz Yes I’m in. That’s like $20 a person for the entire trip, including gas money. So I make the necessary manipulations at work to get my schedule covered for that Friday (the concert was the night of Friday, Sept 18th) and—since I don’t work Saturdays anyway—I’m ready to rock.
Friday shows up. I wake up and head off to the gym to get my day started. After a quick workout I shower and eat, but I’ve got an hour to kill before she arrives to pick me up. I decide to do a little research; after all, I have no idea who the opener is and I figure I should probably check that shit out. A quick bit of googlage reveals that the “special guest” is none other that Darius Rucker. Fuckin Hootie! Sweet!
I will admit that am a so-so fan of Rascal Flatts. I like their music but I don’t really love it. I basically jumped at this concert opportunity because 1.)It was practically free, something I’m always a fan of, 2.)I’ve never been to Fort Wayne, and 3.)It’s a country concert, so pretty much by definition there should be tons of scantily-clad hotties there.
But Hootie is a different matter. I will admit that I have a man-crush on Darius Rucker. I loved him as Hootie and I’ve been a huge fan of his ever since he done and “gone country.” By the way, thank you for that obnoxious and uncultured-sounding (but accurate) euphemism, Alan Jackson.
So I’m all fired up by the time Amanda shows up to grab me at 12:30. We leave A2 and have to stop in Pleasant Lake to pick up Veronica and her friend, Jennifer. Apparently I have met Veronica before, although I don’t particularly remember it. No biggie; she seems nice enough, as does Jennifer.
We roll out and pit stop at the Meijer in Jackson en route to Fort Wayne. Fifteen minutes and ten buck apiece later we are back in the car, now accompanied by a case of bottled water, two bottles of booze, four sippy-cups full of ice and various mixers. No shocker as I play bartender on the way there, mixing up delightful refreshments to ease the thirst of our travel. After only one (yes, ONE!) bathroom pit stop, we arrive in Fort Wayne. Amanda’s new Garmin gets us to the Hampton Inn where we check out our digs for the night.
We relax for a bit and change clothes before getting ready. This involves the women applying copious amounts of makeup, hairspray and various other nice-smelling things. This involves me sitting on the bed with a cocktail as I try and not laugh at girls being girls. About an hour later, the taxi we called shows up and we’re off to the show.
We arrive at the will-call booth to pick up our tickets and…uh-oh. Nothing there. Veronica gets mad. Jennifer panics. Amanda and I laugh. V gets on the phone and calls her friend Cee (yes, his real name) in Chicago who is the aforementioned tour-bus guy and our hookup for these tickets. He tells her to wait and the tickets should be there shortly. We head outside and sit on a stone bench to wait. The girls smoke and seethe, while I chuckle inside. Hey, I’m in a new town with nothing to do tonight…could be fun, right?
About 20 minutes later the girl in the will-call booth motions at us from behind the glass with the thumbs-up. Wow, I’m impressed. V wasn’t bullshitting, I’m thinking: that’s some kind of hookup. We get our tickets, grab a beer and head into the Coliseum. I nearly pissed myself when we got to our seats. Wow! We were practically on top of the stage. These are seriously the best seats I’ve ever had at a major concert.
FUN FACT 1—People in Fort Wayne, Indiana are not attractive. I don’t care if it’s Nevada or Texas, Georgia or Michigan, everywhere I’ve ever attended a country concert there’s always been a seriously high talent ratio. Not so in Fort Wayne. Lots of pasty, semi-chubby white chicks. The Coliseum that night made a Brad Paisley show at Pine Knob look like a night at the Playboy Mansion—END FUN FACT 1.
Before long, Cletus T. Judd comes out and does a few songs, setting the stage and getting everyone amped up. Then it’s time for Hootie! Rucker comes out and he’s good. He does his country stuff, mixes in a few old Hootie songs as well as a sweet rendition of Prince’s “Purple Rain” that no one in the audience expected but everyone loved. After Rucker finishes up, Rascal Flatts comes out and I have to say I’m impressed in spite of myself. These guys sound almost exactly the same in concert as they do on their albums, and the show was seriously entertaining.
It’s funny how far the showmanship aspect of country music has evolved over the years. I’ve been going to country concerts since the early 1990’s; I think either Garth or Alan Jackson was my first show. While I enjoyed the music, the whole concert “feel” was much more staid; the overall energy level wasn’t even close to a rock concert. The same cannot be said now. In the last six months I’ve seen Brad Paisley, Kenny Chesney and now Rascal Flatts and I have to say that (even though I feel the music has slipped as a genre in general) country music has come a long way in the live performance department.
Moving on, the concert finishes up and we head outside to a nice surprise. Turn’s out V’s friend Cee wanted to make up for his mistake (he didn’t get her the tickets initially because he thought V was going to see Toby Keith in Chicago the next night instead of Rascal Flatts) so he got us a limo to make up for it. Nice, right? So for the next few hours we prance around Fort Wayne in style and hop from club to club.
Eventually we stumble back to the hotel room and crash. The next morning rolls around and we decide to make a pit stop on our way out of town. According to the Garmin, one of Fort Wayne’s most famous attractions is the gravesite of Johnny Appleseed. WTF? I mean, I remember hearing about JA as a kid, but I always thought that was some sort of American myth; sort of like Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. Oh no, my friends. Turns out this shit is for real.
John Chapman was real guy who lived to an atrociously old age back in the 1800’s and was buried after his passing in Fort Wayne. So as we’re on our way to his gravesite, we discover something else: it appears that the annual Apple Festival is happening right now. Today. And it’s being held in the same place Chapman’s grave is.
So we roll in, just for shits and giggles. Turns out this is a pretty big deal in Fort Wayne. There are probably over ten thousand people congregating on this park. There’s food vendors (and because nothing says “fest” like smoked turkey leg, I had to get one) as well as live music, bagpipes, square dancing, a civil war reenactment (!), and dozens upon dozens of purveyors or old-schools arts and crafts. We’re talking blacksmiths, flint-knappers, leatherworkers, etc. My personal favorite was the stand selling Native American charms; this guy had everything from eagle-feather headdresses to a chief’s staff complete with a coyote skull mounted at the top.
I wasn’t shelling out $75 to buy this thing, but I definitely considered it. It figured it would be an awesome gift for, yunno, like a girlfriend or something. If I had one. Because...well, because nothing says “I love you” quite like coyote head on a stick. See?
After about two hours of ponderous crowds full of slow-moving, pasty, chubby people and turn of the century neo-Americana, I had to get the hell out of there. So we said our goodbyes to Indiana and rolled out. Another weekend in the books.
Doing some quick math, I decide Hellz Yes I’m in. That’s like $20 a person for the entire trip, including gas money. So I make the necessary manipulations at work to get my schedule covered for that Friday (the concert was the night of Friday, Sept 18th) and—since I don’t work Saturdays anyway—I’m ready to rock.
Friday shows up. I wake up and head off to the gym to get my day started. After a quick workout I shower and eat, but I’ve got an hour to kill before she arrives to pick me up. I decide to do a little research; after all, I have no idea who the opener is and I figure I should probably check that shit out. A quick bit of googlage reveals that the “special guest” is none other that Darius Rucker. Fuckin Hootie! Sweet!
I will admit that am a so-so fan of Rascal Flatts. I like their music but I don’t really love it. I basically jumped at this concert opportunity because 1.)It was practically free, something I’m always a fan of, 2.)I’ve never been to Fort Wayne, and 3.)It’s a country concert, so pretty much by definition there should be tons of scantily-clad hotties there.
But Hootie is a different matter. I will admit that I have a man-crush on Darius Rucker. I loved him as Hootie and I’ve been a huge fan of his ever since he done and “gone country.” By the way, thank you for that obnoxious and uncultured-sounding (but accurate) euphemism, Alan Jackson.
So I’m all fired up by the time Amanda shows up to grab me at 12:30. We leave A2 and have to stop in Pleasant Lake to pick up Veronica and her friend, Jennifer. Apparently I have met Veronica before, although I don’t particularly remember it. No biggie; she seems nice enough, as does Jennifer.
We roll out and pit stop at the Meijer in Jackson en route to Fort Wayne. Fifteen minutes and ten buck apiece later we are back in the car, now accompanied by a case of bottled water, two bottles of booze, four sippy-cups full of ice and various mixers. No shocker as I play bartender on the way there, mixing up delightful refreshments to ease the thirst of our travel. After only one (yes, ONE!) bathroom pit stop, we arrive in Fort Wayne. Amanda’s new Garmin gets us to the Hampton Inn where we check out our digs for the night.
We relax for a bit and change clothes before getting ready. This involves the women applying copious amounts of makeup, hairspray and various other nice-smelling things. This involves me sitting on the bed with a cocktail as I try and not laugh at girls being girls. About an hour later, the taxi we called shows up and we’re off to the show.
We arrive at the will-call booth to pick up our tickets and…uh-oh. Nothing there. Veronica gets mad. Jennifer panics. Amanda and I laugh. V gets on the phone and calls her friend Cee (yes, his real name) in Chicago who is the aforementioned tour-bus guy and our hookup for these tickets. He tells her to wait and the tickets should be there shortly. We head outside and sit on a stone bench to wait. The girls smoke and seethe, while I chuckle inside. Hey, I’m in a new town with nothing to do tonight…could be fun, right?
About 20 minutes later the girl in the will-call booth motions at us from behind the glass with the thumbs-up. Wow, I’m impressed. V wasn’t bullshitting, I’m thinking: that’s some kind of hookup. We get our tickets, grab a beer and head into the Coliseum. I nearly pissed myself when we got to our seats. Wow! We were practically on top of the stage. These are seriously the best seats I’ve ever had at a major concert.
FUN FACT 1—People in Fort Wayne, Indiana are not attractive. I don’t care if it’s Nevada or Texas, Georgia or Michigan, everywhere I’ve ever attended a country concert there’s always been a seriously high talent ratio. Not so in Fort Wayne. Lots of pasty, semi-chubby white chicks. The Coliseum that night made a Brad Paisley show at Pine Knob look like a night at the Playboy Mansion—END FUN FACT 1.
Before long, Cletus T. Judd comes out and does a few songs, setting the stage and getting everyone amped up. Then it’s time for Hootie! Rucker comes out and he’s good. He does his country stuff, mixes in a few old Hootie songs as well as a sweet rendition of Prince’s “Purple Rain” that no one in the audience expected but everyone loved. After Rucker finishes up, Rascal Flatts comes out and I have to say I’m impressed in spite of myself. These guys sound almost exactly the same in concert as they do on their albums, and the show was seriously entertaining.
It’s funny how far the showmanship aspect of country music has evolved over the years. I’ve been going to country concerts since the early 1990’s; I think either Garth or Alan Jackson was my first show. While I enjoyed the music, the whole concert “feel” was much more staid; the overall energy level wasn’t even close to a rock concert. The same cannot be said now. In the last six months I’ve seen Brad Paisley, Kenny Chesney and now Rascal Flatts and I have to say that (even though I feel the music has slipped as a genre in general) country music has come a long way in the live performance department.
Moving on, the concert finishes up and we head outside to a nice surprise. Turn’s out V’s friend Cee wanted to make up for his mistake (he didn’t get her the tickets initially because he thought V was going to see Toby Keith in Chicago the next night instead of Rascal Flatts) so he got us a limo to make up for it. Nice, right? So for the next few hours we prance around Fort Wayne in style and hop from club to club.
Eventually we stumble back to the hotel room and crash. The next morning rolls around and we decide to make a pit stop on our way out of town. According to the Garmin, one of Fort Wayne’s most famous attractions is the gravesite of Johnny Appleseed. WTF? I mean, I remember hearing about JA as a kid, but I always thought that was some sort of American myth; sort of like Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. Oh no, my friends. Turns out this shit is for real.
John Chapman was real guy who lived to an atrociously old age back in the 1800’s and was buried after his passing in Fort Wayne. So as we’re on our way to his gravesite, we discover something else: it appears that the annual Apple Festival is happening right now. Today. And it’s being held in the same place Chapman’s grave is.
So we roll in, just for shits and giggles. Turns out this is a pretty big deal in Fort Wayne. There are probably over ten thousand people congregating on this park. There’s food vendors (and because nothing says “fest” like smoked turkey leg, I had to get one) as well as live music, bagpipes, square dancing, a civil war reenactment (!), and dozens upon dozens of purveyors or old-schools arts and crafts. We’re talking blacksmiths, flint-knappers, leatherworkers, etc. My personal favorite was the stand selling Native American charms; this guy had everything from eagle-feather headdresses to a chief’s staff complete with a coyote skull mounted at the top.
I wasn’t shelling out $75 to buy this thing, but I definitely considered it. It figured it would be an awesome gift for, yunno, like a girlfriend or something. If I had one. Because...well, because nothing says “I love you” quite like coyote head on a stick. See?
After about two hours of ponderous crowds full of slow-moving, pasty, chubby people and turn of the century neo-Americana, I had to get the hell out of there. So we said our goodbyes to Indiana and rolled out. Another weekend in the books.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
So I have a new crush...
And I mean "crush" in the most hetero, man-tastic way possible. Said crush is the band Steel Panther, which some of you may remember as the band Metal Skool (of Drew Carey's "Cleveland Rocks" fame) or Danger Kitty from the infamous Discover card commercial HERE.
While it seems amazing to me that a band that has been the recipient of the "Best Tribute Band in the Universe" award (All Access Magazine) should have escaped my noticed, that's not even the most incredible part. In addition to being glam-tastic (and as a child of the 80's, this is something I can appreciate), these dudes are fuckin hilarious. Okay, once again: how have I never heard of them?
These are the guys that have relesed albums titled Love Rocket, Hole Patrol (no, I'm not kidding) and Feel the Steel. Thier singles include the 2005 hit Fat Girl (Thar She Blows) and the recently released Community Property, the song that actually led to my discovery of these guys.
Said song includes such heartwarming lyrics as:
I would give you the stars in the sky
But they're too far away
If you were a hooker, you'd know
I'd be happy to pay
If suddenly you were a guy
I'd be suddenly gay
It goes on and gets better. But the video is truly epic. Check it out, yo. Crank it up and rock out, but know that it's NSFW. Cheers!
**Follow-up edit. It looks like the embedding was disabled by the by the artist, but you can still peep the video HERE.
While it seems amazing to me that a band that has been the recipient of the "Best Tribute Band in the Universe" award (All Access Magazine) should have escaped my noticed, that's not even the most incredible part. In addition to being glam-tastic (and as a child of the 80's, this is something I can appreciate), these dudes are fuckin hilarious. Okay, once again: how have I never heard of them?
These are the guys that have relesed albums titled Love Rocket, Hole Patrol (no, I'm not kidding) and Feel the Steel. Thier singles include the 2005 hit Fat Girl (Thar She Blows) and the recently released Community Property, the song that actually led to my discovery of these guys.
Said song includes such heartwarming lyrics as:
But they're too far away
If you were a hooker, you'd know
I'd be happy to pay
If suddenly you were a guy
I'd be suddenly gay
It goes on and gets better. But the video is truly epic. Check it out, yo. Crank it up and rock out, but know that it's NSFW. Cheers!
**Follow-up edit. It looks like the embedding was disabled by the by the artist, but you can still peep the video HERE.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
6 Simple Rules
So my last blog was depressing as shit. There, I said it. In an effort to get back to myself (read: Happy Fun B2K) I decided to return to a conversation that I had with a few of my female friends recently regarding my bemoaning the local lack of heavily-inked hotties here.
Hey, it’s Michigan. I get it. My Holy Trinity of Hotness (tattoos, abs and fake boobs for those of you that missed it the first time) is almost nowhere to be found here in the Mitt, so what’s a guy to do? I mean, I have to maintain standards. FUN FACT 1—It’s a well known and long-established fact that I have standards, not morals—END FUN FACT 1. Going back to my last blog, those standards are probably the very reason that I’m not married and/or am not shelling out child support for a bunch of Mini-Bs.
So in an effort to clarify for my friends, and perhaps give a smidgen of hope to whatever ladies in the greater Detroit Metro Area have delusions of dating grandeur, let me present the Official B2K Deal-Breaker list. I mean, if I can’t have what I want, I may as well explain what I don’t want.
1. Must Look Good Naked. I’m a guy and as such, I love a great set of tits. But I’m not a “tits guy.” I’m actually an “ass guy.” But this ass should be accompanied by at least some (read: non-concave) development in the breast area. Abs are a bonus, but if you ain’t got em, it’s not the end of the world. But cankles, muffintops and any other assorted accoutrements resulting from too much beer/too little gym are definitely a no-go.
2. Must Have a Strong Desire to Suck Dick. Mine, preferably. Figured I’d get this one out of the way early. I’m not particularly worried about skill level here; I can teach technique. FUN FACT 2—I once dated a girl that, over the course of the day regularly requested to go down on me. "You stressed, baby? How bout a blow job?"—END FUN FACT 2. Umm, yes. Yes and yes. Please and thank you. That’s exactly the sort of motivation I’m talking about here.
3. Must Not be Stupid. Pretty self-explanatory. I don’t need to date a rocket scientist or even someone exceptionally intelligent. But if we have a three minute conversation and you feel the need to run and check the thesaurus more than once, it probably isn’t meant to be. Sorry, toots.
4. Must Not be a Douchebag. If your Myspace profile is covered in Louis Vuitton and D&G logos and large glittery graphics that say things like “Classy Bitch,” chances are we won’t get along. If you regularly go to any club and have jerked-off, blown or fucked either the promoter or the DJ, sorry to break it to you, but you’re basically a party favor. Hey, I have no problems with party favors; I just tend to like mine a little less whorish.
5. Must Possess an Intense Desire to Alleviate My Boredom. I have a tendency to get bored. Often. However, having an insatiable desire to have sex with me as often as possible will go a long way towards curing that. You coming out of the shower and crawling onto my lap asking to be spanked piques my interest. You purposely bending over in front of me and pretending to tie your shoes even though you're barefoot gets my attention. It's your job to keep our sex life fresh and exciting. It is my job to get bored with you and want to bang other girls. If you do your job, I'll be too busy to do my job.
6. Must Be Mildly Epicurious. No, this doesn’t involve other girls or assgasms (although an appreciation for both goes a long way in your favor) but food. I’m a foodie. I don’t expect you to be. Nor do I expect you to known the difference between a New York and a Kansas City Strip, or the difference between a Shiraz and a Malbec. (Bonus points if you do, btw.) But if the only thing you ever order in a restaurant is “chicken,” you are undoubtedly going to be pushing my boredom button soon…and we all know where this is going once that happens.
That’s pretty much it. And ladies, don't hesitate to make suggestions of things I might add to the list. Perhaps you have some special quality I should be looking for in a girl (unlikely) that you think you have (you don't), or you'd like to sabotage the chances of other women in some clever way. By all means, add your silliness to my list.
With this blog addition I feel like I’ve clarified a few things, as well as getting one step closer to finding my one true love. I know she's out there, somewhere, just waiting to reveal herself to me so we can live together in eternal bliss.
At least until I find out she used to blow the DJ.
Kisses!
Hey, it’s Michigan. I get it. My Holy Trinity of Hotness (tattoos, abs and fake boobs for those of you that missed it the first time) is almost nowhere to be found here in the Mitt, so what’s a guy to do? I mean, I have to maintain standards. FUN FACT 1—It’s a well known and long-established fact that I have standards, not morals—END FUN FACT 1. Going back to my last blog, those standards are probably the very reason that I’m not married and/or am not shelling out child support for a bunch of Mini-Bs.
So in an effort to clarify for my friends, and perhaps give a smidgen of hope to whatever ladies in the greater Detroit Metro Area have delusions of dating grandeur, let me present the Official B2K Deal-Breaker list. I mean, if I can’t have what I want, I may as well explain what I don’t want.
1. Must Look Good Naked. I’m a guy and as such, I love a great set of tits. But I’m not a “tits guy.” I’m actually an “ass guy.” But this ass should be accompanied by at least some (read: non-concave) development in the breast area. Abs are a bonus, but if you ain’t got em, it’s not the end of the world. But cankles, muffintops and any other assorted accoutrements resulting from too much beer/too little gym are definitely a no-go.
2. Must Have a Strong Desire to Suck Dick. Mine, preferably. Figured I’d get this one out of the way early. I’m not particularly worried about skill level here; I can teach technique. FUN FACT 2—I once dated a girl that, over the course of the day regularly requested to go down on me. "You stressed, baby? How bout a blow job?"—END FUN FACT 2. Umm, yes. Yes and yes. Please and thank you. That’s exactly the sort of motivation I’m talking about here.
3. Must Not be Stupid. Pretty self-explanatory. I don’t need to date a rocket scientist or even someone exceptionally intelligent. But if we have a three minute conversation and you feel the need to run and check the thesaurus more than once, it probably isn’t meant to be. Sorry, toots.
4. Must Not be a Douchebag. If your Myspace profile is covered in Louis Vuitton and D&G logos and large glittery graphics that say things like “Classy Bitch,” chances are we won’t get along. If you regularly go to any club and have jerked-off, blown or fucked either the promoter or the DJ, sorry to break it to you, but you’re basically a party favor. Hey, I have no problems with party favors; I just tend to like mine a little less whorish.
5. Must Possess an Intense Desire to Alleviate My Boredom. I have a tendency to get bored. Often. However, having an insatiable desire to have sex with me as often as possible will go a long way towards curing that. You coming out of the shower and crawling onto my lap asking to be spanked piques my interest. You purposely bending over in front of me and pretending to tie your shoes even though you're barefoot gets my attention. It's your job to keep our sex life fresh and exciting. It is my job to get bored with you and want to bang other girls. If you do your job, I'll be too busy to do my job.
6. Must Be Mildly Epicurious. No, this doesn’t involve other girls or assgasms (although an appreciation for both goes a long way in your favor) but food. I’m a foodie. I don’t expect you to be. Nor do I expect you to known the difference between a New York and a Kansas City Strip, or the difference between a Shiraz and a Malbec. (Bonus points if you do, btw.) But if the only thing you ever order in a restaurant is “chicken,” you are undoubtedly going to be pushing my boredom button soon…and we all know where this is going once that happens.
That’s pretty much it. And ladies, don't hesitate to make suggestions of things I might add to the list. Perhaps you have some special quality I should be looking for in a girl (unlikely) that you think you have (you don't), or you'd like to sabotage the chances of other women in some clever way. By all means, add your silliness to my list.
With this blog addition I feel like I’ve clarified a few things, as well as getting one step closer to finding my one true love. I know she's out there, somewhere, just waiting to reveal herself to me so we can live together in eternal bliss.
At least until I find out she used to blow the DJ.
Kisses!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Born on the 3rd of July
So if my Dad was still alive, he’d be 66 today. In September, it will have been six years since he passed. Seems like yesterday.
It’s funny when you think about “time” and how it passes. I can remember stretches of years that seemed like...well, they seemed like years. But since the old man left, I dunno. It’s weird. Sometimes it seems like I just blinked and he was there, and now he’s not.
Part of it’s probably just growing older. You get more time under your belt and more memories in your head, the less any one particular thing stands out. Maybe. Could be because I’m still single with no kids. I don’t have anything like an anniversary or a child’s birthday to give me tangible evidence of the years passing.
It gets even weirder when I break out the photo album. I was just looking at this pic today.
This photo was taken ten years ago today. That’s two of my best friends in Danielle (who also happens to have a birthday on July 3rd) and Dave and I at Dani’s birthday party. Dave now has a beard, but otherwise looks the same. Danielle’s gained like five pounds but basically looks the same. I’ve got a few more lines on my face, but I pretty much look the same too. WTF?
And then I think: this was ten years ago. In fact, going back to the time that pic was taken, it’s amazing to think my father has been alive for less than half of that decade. Double WTF!
But time flies and you make the best of what you’ve got. Hopefully you live happily ever after. But sometimes you don’t. Cancer, after all, is a motherfucker. So live, laugh and love, people, because you never know what tomorrow may bring. Well...actually, in this particular case, I do: another birthday. Happy birthday, America.
It’s funny when you think about “time” and how it passes. I can remember stretches of years that seemed like...well, they seemed like years. But since the old man left, I dunno. It’s weird. Sometimes it seems like I just blinked and he was there, and now he’s not.
Part of it’s probably just growing older. You get more time under your belt and more memories in your head, the less any one particular thing stands out. Maybe. Could be because I’m still single with no kids. I don’t have anything like an anniversary or a child’s birthday to give me tangible evidence of the years passing.
It gets even weirder when I break out the photo album. I was just looking at this pic today.
This photo was taken ten years ago today. That’s two of my best friends in Danielle (who also happens to have a birthday on July 3rd) and Dave and I at Dani’s birthday party. Dave now has a beard, but otherwise looks the same. Danielle’s gained like five pounds but basically looks the same. I’ve got a few more lines on my face, but I pretty much look the same too. WTF?
And then I think: this was ten years ago. In fact, going back to the time that pic was taken, it’s amazing to think my father has been alive for less than half of that decade. Double WTF!
But time flies and you make the best of what you’ve got. Hopefully you live happily ever after. But sometimes you don’t. Cancer, after all, is a motherfucker. So live, laugh and love, people, because you never know what tomorrow may bring. Well...actually, in this particular case, I do: another birthday. Happy birthday, America.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Further proof that Ohio is The Suck...
Yes, I love Cedar Point. And Skyline Chili is awesome when you're wasted. But other than that Ohio pretty much blows. The fact that you're reading this blog means you're obviously an intelligent person, so this point should be self-evident.
However, if you had any doubts at all, I submit to you further proof.
Posted by Associated Press June 16, 2009 07:25AM
TOLEDO, Ohio — Some people here are complaining they received $25 parking tickets last week when their vehicles were parked in their own driveways.
Toledo Mayor Carty Finkbeiner defends the citations, saying they were issued under a city law against parking on unpaved surfaces--including gravel driveways.
The mayor, who's facing a recall vote, says he stands by the city's acting commissioner of Streets, Bridges and Harbor, Susan Frederick, who authorized the tickets.
During a news conference Monday, Finkbeiner ignored a reporter's question of whether the crackdown and fines are at all related to the city's budget crisis.
City Councilman D. Michael Collins calls the ticketing "Mickey Mouse nonsense." He has told residents he'll try to have the citations rescinded.
The three-term mayor faces a recall vote in November. Critics have claimed he's wasted city money.
City Councilman D. Michael Collins calls the ticketing "Mickey Mouse nonsense." He has told residents he'll try to have the citations rescinded.
Wow, I just don't have any comment for something that ridiculous...kind of speaks for itself. Enjoy. Link Here
However, if you had any doubts at all, I submit to you further proof.
Posted by Associated Press June 16, 2009 07:25AM
TOLEDO, Ohio — Some people here are complaining they received $25 parking tickets last week when their vehicles were parked in their own driveways.
Toledo Mayor Carty Finkbeiner defends the citations, saying they were issued under a city law against parking on unpaved surfaces--including gravel driveways.
The mayor, who's facing a recall vote, says he stands by the city's acting commissioner of Streets, Bridges and Harbor, Susan Frederick, who authorized the tickets.
During a news conference Monday, Finkbeiner ignored a reporter's question of whether the crackdown and fines are at all related to the city's budget crisis.
City Councilman D. Michael Collins calls the ticketing "Mickey Mouse nonsense." He has told residents he'll try to have the citations rescinded.
The three-term mayor faces a recall vote in November. Critics have claimed he's wasted city money.
City Councilman D. Michael Collins calls the ticketing "Mickey Mouse nonsense." He has told residents he'll try to have the citations rescinded.
Wow, I just don't have any comment for something that ridiculous...kind of speaks for itself. Enjoy. Link Here
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