Stop Checking 'ma Fresh!

I just read an article that the Mets are contemplating rocking this jersey as one of their official home jerseys, starting in the '09-'10 season. Well, let me break you off some knowledge about this fresh gear- I BOUGHT ONE LAST YEAR! Yea, that's right. I coped one when no one else had even seen one. Now they all recognize the dopeness and it's just a matter of time before all these posers start checking ma fresh.

Ok, I'll cut the shit. But on the real (I had to throw that in) I did get one last year and didn't see anyone with it. By the end of the year, I saw 3 or 4 people with Wright versions but none had the balls to rock the JOSE-JOSE-JOSE version I had. I even had strangers coming up and asking me where I got it. Of course I didn't tell them but now it appears that it's inevitable that everyone will be wearing one. So if anyone says that they like the new Met Jerseys, you tell them "Bryan Martinez had one first". I'm just serious.

Don't Drink and Drive and Get Caught

I was just forwarded this link from Heineken. Apparently, over 2,000 people used the free taxi program last year to get home safely and I'm sure that number will be a lot higher this year. Anyway, not that beer companies need my endorsement but this is seriously a cool thing for Heineken to do. Furthermore, I think that cops in White Plains tonight need to crack some fucking skulls if/when they do find assholes drinking and driving. Don't ruin the holiday seasons for your family or someone else's for the REST OF THEIR LIVES- which is what happens when loved ones get killed this time of year. Happy New Year's everyone.

Gift Giving

I've noticed this year that a popular gift has been getting people scratch-off lotto tickets. This is a pretty sweet (albeit lazy) present. I got a couple and it's a hell of a lot better than getting Fucking Old Navy gift cards (got some of those too... I loved it though- thanks Grandma!)

So as part of my Secret Santa present I threw in a Win $2,000 for Life scratch offs. Well, let me tell you something- this is the WORST present to give because as I'm writing this, that ticket is sitting on my desk and could possibly be a winner. Could you imagine spending $5 on a scratch off and the person you gave it to wins?!! The only thing worse would be if you despised this person- luckily that is not the case for me but if that is the case for you- DO NOT buy them a scratch worth more than $1 because you'll regret it for the rest of your life... actually, you'll regret it for the rest of their life. I'm just serious.

I haven't posted in a while...

I haven't posted in a while due to a couple of things- First off, work has been unacceptably busy and second, I haven't had anything to complain about. There's nothing I can about the first thing but I have no excuse for the second thing. There are so many things that should piss me and off and waaaaaay too many people to make fun of for me not to blog but alas, I haven't gotten anything. Anyway, I'm heading up to Boston this weekend for the Celtics and an overall weekend of inappropriateness. LOL, I love Beantown.

Glog: Fuck Webster!

Ok, can the people in charge of words just fucking make 'wanna' and 'gonna' official words? I'm sick and tired of this bullshit. I mean these days even Harvard English professors slip a gonna or wanna into their pompous-ass rhetoric. I was listening to financial news and heard a woman say "we're gonna see treasury prices rise blah blah.." Even this fancy pants bitch is doing it.

If I'm at work and some douche-nut comes by and says "I am going to go to the movie theater tomorrow, do you want to join me?" My response is "No, Captain Krazy Klown McPsycho Face, please back slowly out of my office and shut the door behind you." Different person, "Hey, I'm gonna go to the movies tomorrow, wanna come?" Of course sir, of course. It just goes to show you how horseshit everything really is.

Ladies and Gentlemen, You're '08-'09 RNT Bricklayers!

Click to enlarge (ladies, don't you wish it was that easy)

I missed the first game due to a severe injury I sustained while attempting to thwart a mugging last Friday. Well, maybe the way no old lady... or a pocketbook... or a mugger for that matter, but there was A WHOLE LOTTA ICE by my car. Anyway, I'll be better in a couple of weeks so make sure to get me back in your lineups!

Pic of the Week

Angry monkeys turn on their cruel trainer and beat him senseless with his own stick after he handed out a vicious beating to one of the trio during a performance riding mini bicycles in a market in Sizhou, China

Prank of the Week (Sorry Pat)

Saran Wrap Prank On Crabby Roommate - Watch more Free Videos

Throwing a shoe at Bush does not count as a "Cockpunch"!

Did you see our President move out of the way of that shoe like he was training for a dodge ball competition? Kudos sir! The only thing that could have topped it, would have been if he had caught it, thrown it back at Mustafa, then yelled "Don't mess with Texas!" That would have been sweet. I'm about as serious as Texas.

Sofritos

I, in fact, am Spanish! I took my friend Jess out for her Birthday Saturday to Sofritos. This place was amazing. The only negative was tight seating and a long wait, but it was completely worth it. The food is so authentic, it's ridiculous. The portions are devastatingly huge (that's what she said). No one walked out of there without a doggy bag. I got the pernil (pronounced peh-kneel) and as you can see it was amazing. Anyway, check this place out. I bounced before it got crazy, but I bet the night life in that place gets crazy- like 75 Puerto Ricans refusing to go home crazy.

It's Official- K-Rod has Landed

K-Rod says: "...all my hopes and dreams have been realized- I'm a Met!"

Jizzz in my pants

Define: Douchebag

I've never wanted to see a person get tasered more than this jack-ass. He's already is making a "tazed" face. God, I hate him.

Philosiphizing

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 Beers.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was. The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up e verything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous 'yes.' The professor then produced two Beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

'Now,' said the professor as the laughter subsided, 'I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things---your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions---and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car. The sand is everything else---the small stuff. 'If you put the sand into the jar first,' he continued, 'there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.

The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first---the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand. One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the Beer represented. The professor smiled and said, 'I'm glad you asked.' The Beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of Beers with a friend.

Hobby

Some people collect comic books. Some people collect coins. Andres Villacis collects V Cards. I too am a collector of sorts. I like to collect beer mugs from bars. Not just your everyday, run-of-the-mill mugs, mind you. I like different, exotic beer mugs or steins. It's kind of an odd hobby considering I have to steal this shit from bars and restaurants but that makes it even more special to me. I haven't been caught yet but I'm pretty sure it would rank up there as one of the top 5,000 embarrassing things to have happened to me. (I've lived an embarrassing life, but my life motto is 'go big or go home') Anyway, the mug below I stole from an Applebees Wednesday night. Actually, it was after I saw the new 007 (see my review below) so I felt the need to rob someone the same way Universal pictures robbed me! I only got one mug, which in my line of work is unacceptable. Always get two- it hides the fact that you are stealing glasses that 100 other people have drank from and makes it look like you got "a nice new set" of glasses from Anthropology. Anyway, I'll be posting the newest additions to my collection as they come.

12/3/08

RNT Holiday Pary

Tonight is my companies Holiday Party. It's a pretty standard party but some people do start planning for it a month or two in advance. It's weird because I think most people are just excited to dress up because while people have been talking ad nauseum about their suits/ outfits and hair for a while now, no one has actually mentioned anything about the party itself. If anything, it sounds like the girls are going to walk the red carpet in and then bounce, lol.

I have a feeling that this year's party is going to suck. We usually have our party in the Rainbow Room but this year it looks like we'll be having it at a bar across the street (C4). Also, they cut back the time of the party AND took away our rides home. Well, we can still get a ride if we leave immediately after the party, which I will not be doing.

One of my co-workers is having his wedding tomorrow, which is going to be a lot of fun. I love weddings. Irregardless, I will not be cutting my evening short for a wedding that doesn't start until 6PM the following evening. This weekend is going to do irreversible damage to my liver. Oh and I'm coming into the city for football on Sunday... sick!

...and the best show on TV is...

Bad Girls Club 3

Quite simply, they take 7 hot, bad-ass bitches that range from strippers to alcoholics to rich prissy snobs and put them in a house with unlimited booze, a limo, and access to dope clubs.


In the first episode, they break into their house by breaking a window and unlocking the door, get kicked out of 3 clubs in the span of an hour and one chick kicked another chick in the stomach wearing a stiletto. I have no idea how you can't want to watch this show.

Check your local listings.

A Humble Review from a Humble Writer #1

What the fuck happened between Casino Royale and this horseshit? I was so pumped that Bond was back after Royale! But this crap felt like it was thrown together by a room full of chimps banging away on type writers and filmed by a coked out Steven Spielberg.

Besides the uninspiring and boring story line, here were some more problems I had with the cinematic meatloaf:

• The action scenes were cut waaaaay to fast. I didn't know if I was looking at an intense fight scene or a really bad gay porn. Seriously, the camera kept changing angles so fast I'm lucky I didn't have a seizure in the theatre.
• The villain looked like a white-trash Walmart employee. He had no scars, wasn't a midget, his cock wasn't made of gold or any other precious metal- and from the ending, he really didn't appear that intelligent. I mean he pretty much wanted to be the South American Con-Ed. What is so bad about that? Is the next bond villain going to be Bill Gates?
• Bond doesn't have sex with enough girls. I mean, here's the Bond timeline for sex. 1) He says hello. 2) He boinks her. That's cool and we need more of that. It only takes James 5 minutes or so to nail a chick, so by my calculation he really should have slayed 75 more girls in this sequel.
• Where are his gadgets? You saw him drive his Aston Martin for 3 minutes. That's it. No laser watch, no jet pack, no x-ray vision sunglasses. NOTHING!!! Can he get some fucking help please?

With that said, there was one reason to watch this movie. (Please see below). This ladies and gentlemen is Olga Kurylenko. And I give her my "bad bitch" award. This is the highest compliment I can bestow on a young lady. She really is one bad bitch. The only negative is her hideous Ruskie name. But I'm just splitting hairs. This picture, by the way, was definitely not from the Bond movie... but it's my blog and I'll do whatever I want. I'm just serious.

Giddy up!

Glog #3

"The Fuck You List" ****Dedicated to Jess who "fucking hates everyone today"

We all have those goofball conversations that start out like this: "Dude, all I need is like two million dollars and I'd be set! Could you imagine?? I'd come into work the next day wearing a $10,000 suit, then I'd rip the suit off, throw it in some fat co worker's face, march into my boss' office, and piss right in his face. After the douche is nice and soiled, I'd unravel a cat o' nine tails and proceed to mercilessly beat him to death with it, screaming at the top of my lungs as his blood splatters everywhere on my lunatic frame...cuz I'd be so rich I could get away with it."

Now, usually these types of comments take place after brutally hard days of dealing with other people's nonsense. None of us are ever going to hit a $50 mil jackpot, or sell a brilliant idea to Google for five hundred million dollars...STILL though, I think it'd be a good idea for all of us to carry around a "fuck you" list, just in case some miracle does fall in your lap.

Forget the easy targets (bosses, coworkers, life-long bitter enemies), I'm talking about exacting revenge on the everyday bastards you come across. Those motherfuckers that push you JUST over the top when you're having an already shitty day. Of course I'd slap my new-found wealth back in the faces of all the morons I work with, that's a given, but how nice would it be to get revenge on that dumb bitch who overcharged you for something at that store in the mall 5 years ago because she wasn't paying attention? See, chances are, you will have forgotten all about that individual, and that's a shame, because at the time they pissed you off SO much that a minor killing spree would have seemed reasonable. Let's not let these people off the hook so easily.

You may say, "But Brian, you're worth $750,000,000, do you really want to waste your time with this person?" The answer is yes. As a matter of fact, I'm willing to devote my vast fortune to the sole purpose of making sure nobody on my list is successful at anything in life. To take it one step further, I'd also crush the lives of any people on my FRIENDS' lists.

Some examples:
#1,578 January 7th, 2003: The teen aged driver of a blue sports car. It was a hellish day at work, and you made it more so by tailgating me almost my entire way home on the Thruway, with brights on that seemed to be more powerful than exploding suns. The fact that I was already driving 95mph and this wasn't good enough for you made me go temporarily insane. I snagged your plate number, and now, 5 years later, it's time for you to suffer. One random morning you'll wake up with a splitting headache and the blazing, scorching heat of the Gobi Desert sun beating down on your naked body, endless sand dunes stretching out in every direction, a silent scream forming on your bewildered face. I'll be in a remote location, eating popcorn and watching on a hidden camera as you burn to death.

#975 March 10th, 2000: bitchy operator person. I called with a simple question. You made it abundantly clear that not only would you not, or could you not help me, but that I was bothering YOU. And although I couldn't see you, it was obvious that you were hideous and weighed easily over 400lbs. Maybe you were having a bad day yourself. That's too bad though, because I'm the one with the money. Nothing fancy here, just me breaking into your house in the middle of the night and smashing your face in with an aluminum baseball bat. You can get away with anything when you can hire the best defense attorneys.

#2036 November 1st, 2008: douchebag guy just sitting there at the bar in a very crowded bar so other people couldn't squeeze in to order drinks. You gave me a shitty look when I politely asked if I could just reach over to pay for some beers. Well, your drinking days are over my friend. For the price of one shitty attitude you've bought yourself a life of toil and misery, have fun working in the diamond mines of Mozambique for the rest of your life. Are these a little harsh? Perhaps, but what can I say, I hold grudges man.

Quote of the Week

Not to get all stilldreday.blogspot.com on you guys but I wanted to give a shout out to Dre's boy, Gary Stark. I was getting ready for work today when I heard some jerk call WFAN this morning. He said his name was Gary Stark- which caught my attention and then declared I'm a boxer from Staten Island. He then went on how he didn't like the host of the show cuz he's a "die hard Mets hater" but he's warmed up to him lately. He said "I called you guys a couple months ago and made you laugh, calling Shea (stadium) the house the Kevin Elster built!" The hosts started cracking up even though they are both Mets fans. Dude, even I was laughing. Gotta give credit where credit is due... hey if boxing doesn't work out, Kid could definitely do radio because the dude sounded completely natural talking to the hosts like they were his buddies from home. Good shit, Kid.

ESPN ZONE

I went to ESPN ZONE the other day and shattered every football record they had (that's not true). Am I better than Peyton Manning? No way- he started a lot earlier than me. But I'd say I throw about as hard as Chad Pennington (that's not true either). Anyway, maybe football is my thing because I tried the pitching machine and my fastball topped out at 68 MPH. That sucks! I thought I could've hit 75 MPH... guess not! Sick!

Perfect form!

Who brought this guy to the party?

If a picture says a thousand words, this one says three: we're fucked up.

It's answers like these that will get you a job at RNT

The Wedding Test

I was a very happy man. My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married. There was only one little thing bothering me...It was her beautiful younger sister.

My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two, wore very tight miniskirts, and generally was bra-less. She would regularly bend down when she was near me, and I always got more than a nice view. It had to be deliberate. Because she never did it when she was near anyone else.
One day her 'little' sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived, and she whispered to me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome. She told me that she wanted me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister.

Well, I was in total shock, and couldn't say a word. She said, 'I'm going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want one last wild fling, just come up and get me.' I was st unned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. I stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline straight to the front door. I opened the door, and headed straight toward s my car. Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all clapping!

With tears in his eyes, my father-in-law hugged me and said, 'We are very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for a better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family.'
And the moral of this story is: Always keep your condoms in your car.

The Perfect 10 Scale

We all know the "10" scale that guys use to judge how attractive a girl is. A 10 is the best, while a 0 means "get the mace ready." The problem with this system is that it's too vague. One man's Jessica Beil is another man's Ugly Betty. And the problem with the 1-10 system is the "7". What the fuck does that mean? I'm guessing a 7 means aight. So at some point in college I invented the 5 Star system. Instead of the traditional rating system, I simplified it, and added criteria which regardless of whether you have a penchant for blondes or brunettes, tall chicks or short chicks, skinny girls or thick ladies, we can all agree where they rank on my scale. So, without further ado, here is the soon to be famous 5 Star system.

I'll start at the top.

A "ONE" is a girl that you would do anything to sleep with- and I mean anything. This chick is so bad that every guy's head turns when she walks by. A ONE will have a guy staring past his girlfriend during dinner to look at. A ONE is also pretty much out of all of our leagues. ONE's are window shopping- look but don't touch. If you aren't a professional athlete or filthy rich, don't bother. These are the kind of chicks that get sugar daddies and don't have to work a day in their lives because men will pay just for their company.

A "TWO" is the very good looking girl who most of us strive to get. She is cute, carries herself well, dresses nice and has that sexy- not slutty look. Personally, I won't actually date (like make my girlfriend) if she's less than a TWO. Maybe that's why I've only had three girlfriends, but that's not the point of this post. Anyway, a TWO illicits a "very nice dude" response from your friends when you introduce her to them.

A "THREE" is the equivalent to a "7" on the old scale. A THREE is definatley doable but it's not like you brag to your boys about it. When having sex with a THREE you may mention it to your friends, but you certainly should not expect applause once you're done telling them. A THREE is also dateable.

A "FOUR" is a girl you would sleep with but generally under suspect circumstances. Maybe you're fucked up, maybe you're in a slump, maybe you're just desperate... but this chick you do and (this is the important part), you keep to yourself. You want as few people to know about this as possible. LOL, only guys would go into a FOUR situation and still do it. They'll regret it tomorrow, but tonight it's game time!

A "FIVE"... well, a FIVE... let's just put it this way: You'd rather nail your penis to a burning building.

Ok, so now you know the greatest rating system ever! I have actually had underclassmen at Gettysburg call me to verify what a particular rating means. Now, there is great responsibility that comes with the system. Never, ever, tell girls about this system. Not because you'll offend them- that's a given, as this system is inherintly one of the most massagenistic things I've ever done... and that says a lot. No, it's because girls will ask you "well, what I'm I?" Holy shit- it never fails. Just never bring up this system in front of girls because you're going to have to lie and say "a TWO". They know they aren't a ONE but no girl will think they are a THREE. But you know they aren't a TWO, so don't water down my system with your lies. I'm just serious.

WHOA

I ended up hanging out with one of my boys from the gym Friday night. I got so fucked up-

I had a dream that I was a professional photographer trying to take a picture of the Brady's on their stairs... NO SHIT! It was fucking weird.

Well, I was trying to get the shot, but fucking Bobby kept lying down or making stupid faces. The pics came out terribly and I kept yelling at Bobby Brady but he wouldn't listen- long story short, I killed him and dumped his body in their pool. RIP Bob.

Tell me if I'm wrong...

Over the last couple of weeks, I've begun doing a lot of self reflection. Actually, that's a lie- I've been doing a lot of reflecting on other people. Specifically, I've been trying to figure out why people do what they do. Bear with me on this, as most of my blogs I usually know how they're going to start and generally how they're going to end, but this will probably read like a collection of thoughts...

I don't want to come off like I'm some evolved being, but lately I can't help but feel like I'm in high school again. I'm turning 27 but I feel like everyone else is 17, lol- some of them wish they were, so maybe that's why they act so immature. One of my coworkers, Jenna, posted about drama the other day and I want to add my two cents.

Cliques are really popular in high school - they are pretty much synonymous with high school. I think that makes sense if you think about it. What is a clique? A clique is a small group of friends who stick with each other, and the group eventually becomes the reflection of who the individuals are themselves. You no longer are "Tracy". You are now "Tracy- you know, she hangs out with (insert name) and (insert name)." They aren't Tracy, that honor roll student that plays soccer or Tracy that drives the Camaro.... But that works perfectly for high school because high school is a place for insecure teenagers to find their "niche". They find strength and security in their clique. It's a haven for them to to be around people of similar interests, OR, it's a place for you to find people that have characteristics that maybe you wish you had, so you begin to incorporate some of those traits into your everyday life. Yea, high school is tough and can be scary and almost everyone needs a solid group of friends to be there for you. But then you go to college and GROW UP...

I was in a frat in college so I won't say that cliques don't exist in college, but after college it's time to start being your own person. And lately I see people, friends, coworkers, completely disengaging from who they are to do and think whatever the collective group does. At some point when you grow up you have to at least acknowledge when something is not right. Case in point- one of my best friends, Schultz was at the bar with me and Jess and I'm whispering like I'm in a helicopter when some guy said something to me. He probably wanted me to simmer down or some bullshit like that. I'm shit hammered, so I start giving this guy my opinion on why he should shut his fucking mouth. So Jess gives Schultz a look and he says "well, Bryan can be an asshole..." He didn't go along with my shanigans and just say that's my boy, he can do no wrong. He knew I was was wrong, I dissagree :), but that's irrelevant. The point is that we aren't 16 years old anymore and if I'm wrong, he'll tell me. But that's not the case for a lot of people.

A suprising number of ADULTS surround themselves with a bunch of yes friends who massage their ego and think that if we all act like this, then we're right... right? No, you simple bitch. You're not right. You're all wrong, but if all of you are wrong, then you're all kind of right. Get it? Listen, once you graduate and get a job, it's time to start being confident enough to be your own person, not one of the flock. I'm not saying don't have friends. I'm saying the EXACT OPPOSITE. I'm saying try and have as many friends as humanly possible so you always have something new and exciting to do but just remember who your real friends are. But its a lot better than hanging out with the same 7 people talking about the same shit you talked about last week. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. For some people that may be difficult because if you only have "hang out" friends, you don't have a choice to pick real friends.

People are so scared of being alone that they'll be with someone they don't love. They'll hang out with people that are more problematic than they're worth. They'll start doing shit that they don't even want to do to avoid being alone.

I wanted to blog about friendship in your 20's as opposed to when your 15, but I'll save that for another day. Although I will say this, I wish I had a nickel for everytime I've told a friend to "go fuck themselves". I'd be rich. But you know what? If your friend is wrong and they're really your friend, then everything will be OK. The 5 or 6 real friends I have are so close that we can do that to keep each other in check. A clique isn't made up of people that are friends. A clique is made up tree leaves. Tree leaves go wherever the wind takes them, but they're ok with that as long as they are with other leaves. Everyone should strive to be the tree- because if the leaves are really your friends, they'll grow back. It's time to grow up and be your own person, people! I'm just serious.

Football Sunday

Had some boys over for the games on Sunday. Most of them are in my fantasy football league. My b0y Schultz walks into my place with an 18 of Budweiser, already missing a few beers as I'm sure his borther and him had a couple for the road... or on it. Whatever.

Anyway my man was up for some partying- and that's what he got, lol. Your welcome.

Overtime

No pic for work but I walked in with Mimosas. Then met up with friends and some coworker for drinks afterwards, and what was suppose to be a Happy Hour thing turned into "jeez- it's 12 already, I gotta get the fuck outta here". But I will say I got the best quote from Lawrence. He was telling me the story of how he met his wife- I can't tell it as good as he can, but if you get the chance ask him too. Obviously, not talking to you, Rockland. Anyway, he ended talking to her while she had another man and said "Listen girl, I'm not gonna beg you to let me treat you good." HAHA, that shit would only work coming from Lawrence.

Overtime was fine, but looking back on the weekend, I pretty much worked Saturday morning to pay for my weekend shenanigan's. Nice.

Friday Night Halloween

My sexual offender costume was in full effect Friday night. Besides the Members Only jacket, I had a pocket full of candy and a ridiculous mustache which surprisingly could be for a sexual offender, a porn star, or a police officer. Now, if that doesn't say something about our society, I don't know what does, lol.

I must say, I didn't say "wow, that chick should not be wearing that" as much as I thought I would. Maybe it was the bar itself but there were some hot costumes. The best costume goes to a mermaid who was smokin' hot in he little green dress-thing and matching tube top. Well done madam. I wish I had a pic but I looked creepy enough. I didn't need to compound that by taking pics of girls I didn't know!

It was a pretty early night for me as I had to wake up early and come into work on Saturday...

I think I may have...

Is this not the best intro to whatever you are about to say? As soon as someone says this to me, I know I'm in for a treat because whatever follows is always going to be bad. No one ever begins to tell a story with "I think I may have..." and then finishes with "... helped an old lady cross the street." No, it's always something that makes you wince a little, like "... called this chick at the bar a fat pig" or "... put it in the wrong spot." Yea, sure it was an accident.

I'm a story teller and love to hear stories so pick up on these kind of things. Have you ever been on a train and looked at someone and just wanted to ask them to tell you their story? No, not life story, like situation story. Maybe there's a guy with a briefcase- like one of those cool metal ones that you see in spy movies. Or maybe, there's a girl who looks pissed off about something, and has great boobs, and maybe you want to talk to her and help vent her fustrations. I'm nothing if not a humanitarian. I bet everyone has a truly great story in them- whether they disclose it is the real question!

Happy Halloween, bitches.

PWN3D!

Werd- I've got no game when it comes to talking to ladies for the first time. You know that awkward moment when you first approach a girl and are debating whether to go funny or normal? Well, I don't do it- neither approach, because I refuse to approach a girl I don't know and talk to her. You know what the problem is? It's a combination of guys having no game and girls being fucking bitches, lol. Girls will sit at a bar with an I'm lonely as fuck look on their face and the second you say something to them they respond with something that leaves you shaking your head and thinking ...what a fucking cunt... I know it's not just me either. Every guy has these stories. I can recall hanging out at a bar for someone's birthday about a year ago, and I was getting mad eyes from this cute chick across the bar. Again, I never, ever go up to women I don't know but this chick was eye fucking me good, so I go up to her, offer to buy her a drink, she declines (obviously) and I walk away shaking my head and thinking ...what a fucking cunt... and go back to hanging out.

Not two minutes later as I'm recounting my train wreck of a pickup to my boys, one of my female friends comes up to me UNSOLICITED and says "wow, that chick is definitely checking you out- you should go talk to her". Ummm, yea- what the fuck?! Again, I have no game, so maybe I was so shit hammered that when I said "can I buy you a drink?" what actually came out of my mouth was "can I lick your tits?" Who knows? But I won't get caught up in semantics.

When I was 17, I worked at Loews Theatre in the Palisades mall (insert joke here). It was a shitty job (insert obvious statement here) but I love movies and it was a summer gig- so who gives a shit. Well, one night after making a hell of a Goobstopper sale, this movie angel approaches me and asks for a slushee. MMMMM, slushee. Anyway, this chick was smoking hot. For those who know me, smokin' is the highest ranking I can give a girl. She had golden blonde hair and had freakishly blue eyes. I sold her her slushee and began telling my coworkers about it, much to the shagrin of the other customers in line. Whatever, if they can't take a joke, fuck 'em. Well, I decided in my recanting of my brush with destiny, that I would wait until the movie ended and talk to her! The balls on me, right? WRONG! I'm an idiot... with no game.

The movie lets out and the theatre starts to empty- then I see her. So like a retarded secret agent I started after her... did I mention that my shift had ended an hour earlier... why was I creeping up behind her? Did I think by jumping up behind her and scarring the shit out of her she was more liking to go out with me? Whatever the case, after startling her by tapping her on the shoulder, I introduced myself... and that's when I saw it. She was there with like 10 of her girlfriends. FUCK ME! I would rather run into a bullring dressed as Mr Kool-Aid than approach a chick on girls nite out. So now I start sputtering some bullshit about "I'm sure you hear this all the time, but you're eyes are amazing..." when her friend right next to her, rolls her eyes and says "here we go..." and then begins to tell all the other girls that I'm trying to pick up their friend. So now I have all of them staring at me while I sound like Adam Sandler in Waterboy and decide that somehow, someway I had to get out of there fast... I stopped mid sentence and started walking away. No goodbye- no nothing. I just ran away. I'm embarrassed for myself right now.

Anyway, ever since then, I feel like I have this horrible stigma tattooed on my forehead that says "If this guy is talking to you, just close your eyes and he'll disappear". This is actually a great segway to my next post about what you can expect in Hell, when you die. Not that I'm saying you're going to hell, but I'm just saying...

Phillies win the World Series!

... and America doesn't give a shit...

Go phuck yourselves.

Breaking news! I'm an asshole???

LOL, so after making some small talk, my friend Katherine says "Well, you can be nice when you want to be." This is the exact kind of thing that completely incenses me. I've known Kat for a while and I would think that she would know me pretty well by now- I responded to her, "No, I can be an asshole when I want. There's a difference."

I know I don't really show that side to a lot of people but I think I'm a pretty good person, actually. I think people mistake my abruptness for rudeness but I'm the definition of not sugar coating anything. I'm not trying to say I'm more enlightened than other people but I just say want everyone else is thinking in an effort to confront the problem, while other people keep it to themselves or whisper about it behind close doors. But guess what? That doesn't get rid of the 300 pound gorilla in the room. Anyway, I just felt like posting about that little exchange. And to quote Tucker Max, "if they can't take a joke, fuck 'em".

Don't call it a comeback!

I just had to bring this out of the archives! Chaz and I decided to have a friendly boxing match at his BBQ last year. It wasn't pretty, so I just posted the lone highlight. But when it was all said and done, we're boys so it was all good. BTW- Chaz throws a mean BBQ... also Schultz passed the fuck out on a lawn chair, sweating like Kunta Kinte. I just had to add that... seriously.

Finger Bang

There are a lot of things women complain about that men will never even come close to understanding. We will never know what it is like to push a mutated bowling ball out of a body cavity 3 inches long... well, 4 or 5 for some of the more experienced gals... JS. Men don't have to get their eyebrows plucked or areas waxed. Even sitting in the space aged hair dryers at saloons looks uncomfortable. But during a round table pub discussion, a couple months back, my friends Sarah and Ericka were bitching about blowing drunk guys. They joked about how it really is a job cuz you could be down there for 20 minutes... to which the guys just laughed.

But much like everything I hear, I had to argue! "NAY, Woman!" I replied. Guys go through similar stuff like that with women all the time. I can remember plenty of times (mostly in high school, as second base is no longer an option at 26) trying to digitally pleasure a woman, as in with my hand and not a TV, and it not happening. I swear the burn in my forearm was worse than anything I've experienced lifting weights in the gym. I should make an infomercial selling this exercise to America. It would sweep the nation. First step find and insecure girl- actually any girl with an incredibly small g-spot will suffice and go to town. Every 5 minutes, switch hands. I'm sure you'll see results in 3 - 4 weeks, or your money back. I'm just serious- no refunds.

I'm ruminating all over the place!

As Dre put it- I have bloggers block. Things have been pretty busy for me lately, so blogging has taken a back seat. With that said, here are some random thoughts:

I hope Bill Gates invents a device that allows you to drop some eaves on people's IPODS. I find myself, no less than 10 times a day, wondering what someone is listening to on the MP3 players. If I'm on the train and some lady is giggling, I wonder "is she listening to Dane Cook? Or maybe she's listening to a song that reminds her of that time she gave her boyfriend a blumpkin?"
If I'm in the gym and some middle aged guy, wearing spandex, is running on the treadmill like a Kenyan, I wonder "is this guy rocking out to some 'Welcome to the jungle' for some audio motivation? Or maybe this guy is using the treadmill as a metaphor for running away from his gayness? STOP WEARING SPANDEX!
If I'm in the elevator and some Asian guy is listening to his IPOD while bopping a little, I think "is this guy seriously listening to 'Every body's working for the weekend'? Or maybe... no he's Asian and probably doing karaoke this weekend, so that's exactly what he's doing." But you get the idea.
Actually, I would love to be walking on the street listening to the jacked dude's IPOD next to me and be able to say "Rihanna? Really?"

I get a real kick out of accents. I think they're great. I wish I had an accent- sometimes when I go to Boston for a week to visit my boys, I come back rolling my "R" a bit, but that's not nearly as cool as, say and Irish accent, or even a southern accent. But some accents are so bad if feel like God is just fucking with us. Case in point: Staten Island. My boy Q has such a ridiculous accent that I trick him into telling me that he doesn't want to trade for my RB in football, Joseph Addai (pronounced A DIE). So, I'll call him up and ask if he wants Joe... his response is always "Who? Addai- I don't wanna die". My laughter ensues and he hangs up on me. Great shit.

You know what's great about guys? Saying whatever you want to your friends and then pretending it didn't happen. If your playing a pickup game of basketball and you invite your boy to head up to the pub with you and he declines, you can respond "fuck you then. Call you later?" And he just says "sure".

God, I hate talking on the phone. That's it. I prefer texting.

Lastly, shut out to all the owners in the SUNSET PARK basketball league. We had our draft last night and I took the liberty of writing down some of the things said to each other... or just out loud. The word fuck was used 117 times. Random references about other people homosexuality: 47. I had no idea, drafting Knicks meant you loved cock- but you learn something new everyday. I think CB and AFH insulted everyone after every pick- but I think that's to cover their own insecurities about their horrible drafts themselves. Overall, good times had by all.

This post was originally going to be my interpretation of what HELL is... or at least PURGATORY. It's pretty funny but I don't really have time to do it today. It'll probably be posted by tomorrow.

Politics

For those of you have not had the chance to check out Jenna's blog, I definitely recommend it. It's completely different than mine- less cursing, anger, and musings from a female perspective.

With that said, her most recent post, I took issue with. Jenna posted an opinion piece from David Letterman, essentially listing things that we Americans take for granted. First off, while that in itself is unoriginal and pretty simple, the issue I have with it was that almost each and every thing he wrote could be contested. He mentions that we have the freedom to do certain things, like "drive a car coast to coast, without having to show papers at each state". Not sure what that means or why it's so great, but just being able to do something, doesn't necessarily mean that you're able to do it. What Letterman fails to mention is that the same trip is going to cost you $4,000 in gas alone. Forget, tolls, speeding tickets, automobile wear and tear, time off from work, etc. He also states that if a "burglar is trying to steal your flat screen TV, a trained officer with a gun and bullet-proof vest, will come to your aid". Well, what about the other trained officer with a gun and bullet-proof vest who shoots a black man in the subway because he mistook his apple for a fucking "grenade".

While I could dissect each one, I will not because my issue isn't entirely with his individual points as much as it is with his entire piece being pure hypocrisy. He praises our country's freedom's, while essentially telling you to shut your mouth, stop complaining and be "good little Americans". Well, maybe I didn't get the memo, but when did being good Americans constitute keeping quiet and mindlessly support the government and the antics of the wealthy and powerful? Letterman brags that we don't have to worry about being raped or murdered in the streets. Well, how about all those families and tax payers that are being raped and fucked because banks and greedy suits on Wallstreet don't give a shit about anyone or anything other than their bank accounts.

Listen, I do love this country, but can we stop defining Patriotism as the blind devotion to one's government regardless of how you truly feel. Just because other countries are in far worse shape than us, doesn't mean we're perfect. Letterman, thinks this is reason why other countries hate us? They hate us because we "whine"? Or, maybe it's because we walk around with our noses in the air and a t-shirt that say "Hey, my country can kick your country's ass". I think as Americans we have the right- no, the responsibility to continue to demand more and continue to support each other and our government in anyway we can to achieve a better nation.

I don't really write political posts, nor do I plan to continue writing them, but there's nothing wrong with not thinking this country is perfect. And just for the record "perfect" is a relative term. Back in the 1800's, a lot of people thought everything was gravy. Well, 200 years can put a huge dent in your definition of perfect.

MacGruber: Financial Ruin

Shoutout to Schultz for the link!

Pet Peeve #13: Me Too!

Out of all my peeves, the "me too" person has got to be one of the worst. This response can be to anything you say, but usually it is said right after you announce "I'm tired". For those who can't fathom what is going on here, I shall reenact what this conversation could look like.

Me: I'm tired
Asshole #1: Me too!

No shit! You are tired as well? What a fantastic coincidence! Now before I begin to dissect the validity of your retort, may I ask one question? What difference does it make that you too are tired? Are we going to take a nap together now? I don't think so. Did you think that I felt alone in this world and was hoping that someone else out there also suffered from this same affliction? I mean, while you're at it, could you tell me that everything is going to be OK? I wasn't looking for your sympathy. I was using "I'm tired" as in intro to tell you about the kick ass bender I had last night. Let's see you reply "me too" to that, fuck stick.

My second problem with this response is with the knee jerk manner in which is said, almost like a reactionary (not a real word, or is it?) response. It feels so insincere that I want to fake-punch them in the face and see if the manner in which flinch was the same as when they said "me too". Fuck you, me too. Why are you tired? Is it because you went to bed late last night? Were you watching Last Call with Carson Daly? Were you fighting crime? Were you trying to find the mystery of life in a hobo's ear canal? Ed. note: The mystery of life is not in a hobo's ear canal, I've checked. No! This cunt flap isn't really tired at all. The reason the pig fucker said "me too" is because his or her conversation skills rival that of a chimp. The next time someone says "me too", look them straight in the eye and say "Jesus Christ- are you ok?" When they look confused, explain that you thought their condition must have been so serious for them to interupt whatever you were going to say, that you were genuinely concerned that they may fall asleep standing up and fall over.

I know I'm not Webster (like the dictionary, not the midget) but the definition of conversation is: an exchange of thoughts and ideas through word. The definition of conversation is NOT: wait until other person's lips stop moving and then monopolize conversation with mindless drivel.

I'm just serious... oh, you are too! Go fuck yourself.

What a game!

So I surprised Jess with Ranger tickets on Friday. She loved them. I met up with her at a bar with JB and we had a shot and a couple of drinks before I decided to give her the good news. I got her a Ranger hat so she had something authentic to wear. That's just me being awesome.

The game was sick! I must admit, the crowd was a tad fucking lame, but as we headed towards OT, they picked up. There was one point where it looked like the referees wanted to fuck us... hard. We should have scored a goal, but the puck actually hit the far post, ran across the line, hit the other post and bounced out. The replay showed that the puck never crossed the line (that's what she said).

The game didn't get going until the 3rd quarter. There were a couple of real close shots but it was 0-0 going into OT. But this team would't quit. Kudos.

The game went into a shootout which is common for me. No kidding, I've been to 5 hockey games in the last year... and all 5 have gone into shoot-outs. Here's a side note- the team I was rooting for have won all 5. The chances of getting a shootout is probably 1-10 but the last 5 games I've gone to have ended in shoot-outs. So it's the opposite situation I have for the Mets.

After the game I met up with JB and we went out to the bar for a night cap. Well, Jess got too fucked up (you're welcome) and we had to bounce. We still got home at a reasonable time and kept drinking. Standard Friday, ladies and gentlemen. Saturday was pretty standard and I stayed home. I think I felt my liver trying to escape...

Anyway, let's go Giants, Rangers, Jets, Rays, or anyone who wins the AL. I'm just serious.

You think you're funny- I think you're rude

You are slightly more annoying than this kid

I know I'm just opening up myself for people to do this more to me, but here it goes... "Why don't you do some work :) "

Notice how I put the smiley face to indicate that this annoying douche was joking. Keep in mind they generally say this when I'm talking to other people or working on my blog. There's two reason's why this annoys the shit out of me. First, is that I am probably not doing any work whatsoever, but that is irrelevant. You probably aren't doing shit either, that is why it's so easy for you to acknowledge that I too, am doing shit. But instead of keeping your mouth shut, you announce to anyone within earshot that we are two expendable employees and this company can save $16,476.14 a year by firing both of us.

The second reason this bothers me is that you just ruined whatever conversation I was just having because you wanted to be funny. But you are not funny, you are rude. Maybe it's not that the person wanted to be funny but they wanted to get involved. Now, this I understand completely. You're probably sitting at your desk and you see one or five people huddled around me laughing hysterically at my wild stories and anecdotes and you want to get in on the fun. I get it, I really do. But could you please just quietly stand behind the group and immerse yourself in my tales and adventure and whimsical satire? But NO! You want to steal valuable attention from me by screaming "why don't you do some work?! :)" Now after you've left, there's an awkward silence and we all give each other the "well, I guess I'll get back to work now" look. I don't have time to start my long winded stories over at a later date in time. I actually am very busy- well, no that's not true. But I get annoyed very easily, so that's the same thing.

A Social Commentary by Tyler Durden

"Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off. "

Ten Things I Think I Know

10. Wife beaters are the male equivalent to push up bra's. For whatever reason, guys look a lot bigger than they really are with a beater on. With that said, it is neither cool not acceptable to ever wear on in public. Seriously, keep that shit to you flexing in your bathroom mirror.

9. If you're wondering about the difference between "making love" and "fucking", there's an easy way to discern what you are doing. Check the girls ass. Regardless of what position you're in, if her ass is higher than her head- you are fucking. Congrats!

8. Never have I, nor will I ever have sex to music. I mean, seriously, who "has sex to music"? Black people, that's who... and I'm not that smooth. I also don't have any R. Kelly music. (I'm going to have a full blown post about that one)

7. I have a tattoo that goes from the inside of my elbow up to the bottom of my armpit... and that paled in comparison to the pain that goes with getting your back waxed. Holy shit- I almost punched a bitch in the face 14 times during the process. It's kinda gross, but not as gross as having a hairy back.

6. There is no better feeling than crawling into bed with a huge blanket in the middle of winter. Subsequently, there is no worse feeling that getting out of that bed and getting ready for work.

5. Status messages are mistitled. No one cares what your "current status" is. While you're at it, how about putting "fine" or "super fuckin' great" as your status. Unless someone is trying to find you- there really is no reason to write what you are doing at that precise point in time. I have never wondered what person X was up to and in order to find out, signed into Gmail to see. "Oh, you're taking a walk? That's super duper!"

4. Can we start cockpunching people who love their jobs? I was talking to Jenna the other day about this and we agree- fuck those people. It's not that I have a problem with people who think "they love whatever it is they do" and I'm jealous. If that's the case, God bless them. No, my problem is the fuck holes that love their jobs because they think they're cooler than the rest of us BECAUSE they love their jobs. Here's a simple test to check if you indeed love your job: If you won 50 million dollars today, would you come into work tomorrow? No? Well, fuck hole, you don't love your job, do you? You may like your job, but you don't love it. Anything that I love to do, I would still do- in fact, I'd probably do it more often and with more women, if I won 50 mil. JK, not really, but sort of...

3. Will "that's what she said" ever get old? I hope not.

2. Pictures are underrated. I hate taking them, but everytime someone shows you them, you smile. Take more pictures.

1. I just want to give a shot out to Jess. She gives me a ton of ideas for my blog and I always overlook her for shout outs. She a "bluse". Blog + Muse = Bluse.

Try this

Now this is beer! I picked this up because I saw it had a 7.2 ABV and looked delicious. It was in a 4 pack which is a good sign. Well, it didn't disappoint. It's a Belgian beer but didn't have the distinctive taste of Blue Moon. The best way to describe it is "a flavorful Budlight". After just 3 I was feeling pretty good. Definitely give this one a try.

Guest Blog #2

On second thought...

Can somebody tell me why the fuck I went into the field of "business?" Honestly, I have little-to-no communication skills, terrible with math, I hate working on a 'team', I hate getting dressed up, and the more cash I make the more debt I go into. I yearn for simpler times. I probably thought I was the shit back in the day, making the decision to go into the financial field...God what a douchebag. Did I not clearly weigh all my options? There must have been other things I could have done.

Well, since I use most of my time at work to think about other jobs I wish I was doing, I thought of one: store manager at Victoria's Secret in the mall. Hear me out. To those of you who's gut reaction is to say, "but Brian, retail? really?", I say please go murder yourself right now. You've got to look at the bigger picture, read between the lines man. Let me break it down for you in the only way I know how to, filthy and lewd. For a young man, there may not be a more perfect location for mischief and poon then any New York mall. I'll use the Palisades Mall in Rockland County for this example since it's close to me. Ok, so let's get beyond the fact that you'll be earning a poverty-level income as a store manager, just sell everything you own and keep your bills low, trust me, it'll be worth it. Also, People may throw a bit of perceived gay-ness your way when they see you working in a lingerie shop, forget those foolish fucks. Those are the only 2 issues, everything else is a beautiful, simple existence. You can practically live at the mall. There's entertainment, 80 billion kinds of food, gadgets, clothes, mad kids selling drugs, beer, and most important of all, pussy. That's really why we're talking about working at VS, isn't it? The range of hot bitches is mind-botteling. Just to be able to kick back in the store watching the endless parade of slamming 17 year olds (yea, thats right, I fucking said it, so what? you know you check them out too, you fucking perverted bitch) marching up and down the mall would be so much better than watching the stock market fall another 10 trillion points. I just think it would be cool to ring up some milf buying a hot black thong and thinking to myself "that fabric is going to be rubbing against your pussy at some point in the future." What a dope job. I dare you to come up with any flaws in this way of thinking.

The Lawrence Welk Show

Forgetting Sarah Marshall

I'll tell you why this movie was so fantastic... well, I already did with the above picture.

The great thing about this movie was that it was real. People aren't either totally good or totally bad. I won't get into details but I think that if you like Eternal Sunshine and Superbad this is a must watch.

Thank you, Duane Reade

On behalf of all the Americans, working in Rockefeller Plaza, I'd like to extend my hand in respect and friendship to Mr. Reade. In case you didn't notice, Duane has started to sell beer in his store. For those who don't know, beer at a bar in midtown can run you anywhere from $5 (Budlight) to a cockpunch (Sam Adams). We also have little eateries that sell beer but they're just as expensive, so pre-gaming really has no benefit.

But now that Duane Reade has now stocked their shelves with 6 and 12 packs of Sam, Bud, Land Shark, Hoegaarden, and Mike's Hard Lemonade (no homo), pre-gaming is now an option. Did I mention that they actually are charging planet Earth prices? Yea, the 6 of Sam and Corona was $8.99. WTF- maybe "the man" isn't so bad after all.

I'm just drunk- uhhh, serious. I'm just serious.

Pumpkin

Two punk chump

With Halloween just around the corner I was thinking of some pretty funny costumes I've seen over the last couple of years. I hope this year to get some pics for the site. Two years ago, my boy dressed up like a fetus. No, not a baby- an actual fetus being born. He made legs out of panty hose and 2 liter coke bottles and secured them on his ears, with a "dress/skirt" looking thing around his head. He had pubes around the sides and then coated his face in Vaseline. God, it looked uncomfortable but he won $500 for it...

Shout out to Jenna for the pic- thanks.

Guest Blog

My two cents on the habits of annoying co-workers, part I

by Brian Schultz

What's up everyone? I'll be occasionally dropping some of my magic here on Bryan's blog. If you like what you see, let me know and I'll write some more junk. If you don't, then please feel free to kill yourself.

I hear what you're saying about the 'elevator' and the 'breakfast' morlocks, bro. Some people just make me want to twist my own nutsack off and then choke myself to death with it. The people I hate most in my office fall into 2 major groups: shitters and foodies. I'll deal with foodies in thenext post. Probably the worst thing that's ever happened to me is to have to take a dump at work, only to walk into the bathroom to find somebody else is already dumping. It's the only thing I'm afraid of. I'd rather have Charles Manson hold a loaded gun to my face. Like three weeks ago, I seriously had to go to like fucking five different bathrooms within my office building to find one that didn't contain some douchebag taking a shit. I was flabbergasted. Call me crazy, but sitting less than 4 feet away from some strange dickhead (or even worse, a known coworker) while they empty their bodily waste from their asshole just downright disgusts me. Is it just me? I mean, really, who would be comfortable in this type of situation? We've all been there. You're taking an innocent piss when all the sudden "Barney" that fat, lazy fuck from a few offices down stumbles in with a greasy look of fear plastered across his face that says "I had 2 bacon egg and cheese sandwiches, potato slices, and 2 chocolate milks for breakfast, and its coming out, fast." You turn to give a quick glance to see whos entered, hoping it's just someone who needs to pee also, and then you get the "whats up" nod from Barney, and it tells you all you need to know. Truly disgusting. You know he's in there, HE knows that you know that he's in there...with shit coming out of his ass.

Can't motherfuckers just wait till the coast is clear? Fuck that, I do my shitting at like 2am, when nobodys around, unless for emergencies. I don't know, maybe one day as I get older, fatter, my body starts falling apart, I care less and less, then I'll lose my aversion to this nonsense. Until then however, please don't shit next to me.