Friday, October 31, 2008

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.

Thursday, October 30, 2008


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...

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

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".

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

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.

Thursday, October 23, 2008


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.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

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.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

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.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

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.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

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. "

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

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.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

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.

Friday, October 10, 2008

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

Thursday, October 9, 2008

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.


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.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

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.

Thong thong thong

Yes, please

Well, it was a dead tie between Ride wit me and Thong Song for most reminiscent song. I couldn't decide what picture you use- Nelly's band-aid face or this lovely specimen of womanhood.

Everytime I think of the Thong Song, I remember a BBQ frat party we did during homecoming weekend. It was three frats and two sororities hanging out drinking beer and whoever the DJ was must have forgot his CD's. All his CD's except Enter the Dragon, that is. I heard that song no less than 8 times in a two hour period- yet, didn't see any friggin' thongs. Maybe sorority chicks can't take a hint...

Really? Just stop...

You could afford to skip a meal

I really should file this post under Pet Peeve #121. I know I'm an easily vexed person- but this has to annoy somebody else. It just has to...

I normally skip breakfast but whenever I do get breakfast there is someone who has to comment "oh you got breakfast... thanks for letting me know!" Yes, they say it with a smile to let anyone listening know that they don't think it's your job to feed them- but you still have to answer the question or comment on it. Usually, I hear people say "I didn't know, sorry :)" Everyone smiles and all is right in the world. But for whatever reason, that comment is always followed by some uncomfortable pause while you think of the appropriate response. I wish someone would just look at the woman (yes, it's usually a female that makes this f-ing comment) and say "nope, didn't say anything to you because I didn't want to get you shit."

I mean, fuck! How annoying is that. And the worst part about this is that the person asking you "why you didn't tell them you were getting breakfast" HAS NEVER GOTTEN YOU BREAKFAST!. Who has that much audacity? I would completely understand if they were just expecting you to be civil and return the favor for that time they got you breakfast, but that is never the case. I'm a jerk from hell, so I usually just reply "The place I go to doesn't use low fat cooking products." Haha, take that bitch. What's her answer to that? Bryan 1, annoying bitch ZERO.

Yea, I know that everything gets on my nerves, but like my elevator post, now that I've brought this to the public's attention, I think it will start pissing you off a little too. If I can just make one person angrier, then my work here is done. Seriously.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Awkward situations #81

If we were any closer, you'd be pissing in my ass!

The other day as I was leaving work with a coworker, I came across this awkward situation-it has nothing to do with the above picture.

As we anticipated walking apart and heading our separate ways, we said goodbye. The thing is I was headed towards the bar and Barles Chinanti ( he doesn't want me to use his real name) was headed to Scores. Well, we still had about 200 more feet to walk until I got to the bar and walked across the street. So we continued walking next to each other... but we didn't speak. I mean, we had already said goodbye so any convo worth starting would have to be short and pointless so you could say bye again without it getting awkward. There's no way Barles says "ok, bye" and my convo starter is "so... I ever tell you about that time I met Meaghan Fox and she said that she wanted to fuck you? No? OK, well you gotta go so I'll catch up with you Monday." I think he'd want to finish that one- but we did say goodbye already and I don't like long awkward goodbyes, so we just split like a fat man's pants. My suggestion, if you find yourself in this situation in the future, is to make it a habit of responding to "later" by saying "go fist yourself, Gaylord."

Pet Peeve #172: Elevators

No, I don't have a problem with the elevators themselves but more with the people in them. My peeve can actually be summed up in the form of a question:

Ummmm, can you get the fuck out of the elevator already?

These fucking people fall into two categories: 1) Douche bag men with nowhere to go and 2)chivalrous douche bags.
The regular douche stands at the front of the elevator and when the doors open, regardless of how uncomfortably packed it is, will stand to the side pretending to hold the elevator doors open for everyone. I know they have to realize that there are sensors on the doors and they won't slam shut on you if your walking past. This isn't 1925 with one of those old metal gates separating you from the elevator shaft. I mean, by these jerk-faces stand there "holding the door open" for everyone, they are impeding everyone's desired goal of leaving. Then we all have to pretend this guy actually served a purpose by saying "oh, thank you". The "oh" is because you're soooooo surprised that this gentleman is kind enough to forgo being the first out of the elevator to act as a light house for everyone in the large ocean that is the elevator. "Oh, thank you sir- without you're assistance I would have tried to remove the ceiling panels and climbed out the roof of the elevator." What would the 19 cramped adults log jammed in this elevator have done without your assistance?" WRONG! The appropriate response is: "Ummmmmm, can you get the fuck out of the way?"

This leads me the second offender; in my opinion this offender needs to be cock-punched on the way out of the elevator. This is the gentleman who will allow a woman to exit before the men. "But Bryan, what is wrong with that? You're the reason chivalry is dead..." Well, it isn't the fact that I have a problem with a woman exiting the elevator first (althought what is really the point of that?)- it's the fact that this broad is buried in the back of the elevator behind 14 dudes and everyone starts sandwiching each other to let this woman out. I think she'd understand that the only time that much effort is needed to part something that tightly packed would be in there were half a million Jews that needed to get by because the were being chased by Egyptians in chariots... I wonder if Moses grabbed his staff and yelled to the Red Sea, "Ummmmmm, can you get the fuck out of the way?"
Seriously, move.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Uncle Bryan

I went to go see Brian, Lana and Arlowe this weekend. Obviously, Jess and I wanted to see the baby but we also went up to celebrate a belated birthday to Schultz. We had a couple of drinks and just sat around bullshitting. I know I'm a sentimental guy but my favorite times are just sitting around with real good friends, drinking beers.

It was a little weird for me when he handed me Arlowe and called me "uncle Bryan" simply because I never saw myself as ever being an uncle. But it was pretty cool- uncomfortable at first, but then I really warmed up to the idea. Babysitting is out of the question but I can do the birthday present and occasional "my dad just doesn't understand me" convo... (although chances are that if Schultz doesn't get it, neither do it. But I'll pretend...)

Friday, October 3, 2008

Album of the year!

Shout out to CB for putting me onto T.I.'s album Paper Trail. I am to busy too keep my ear to the street, but Charles spends enough time on the street for both of us. He may be the blackest guy I know. The hottest tracks are Live your life and My life, your entertainment and Dead and gone feat JT, san!!!

Drink of the week

I've been experimenting with ice cubes... not like that...

Standard glass fill with ice
2 shot of flavored vodka
Fill with Sprite

This drink takes a little prep. Give yourself a couple of hours and pour pomegranite juice into an ice cube tray and use them in your drink. I think it'll give the drink a nice hint of fruit. No one likes to get blasted in the face by fruit.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Days off?

So I decided to take Monday and Tuesday off just to relax. Has anyone else noticed that when you take a day off to do nothing you seem to catch up on EVERYTHING. All I wanted to do was play hockey for 14 or 15 hours- nothing crazy. But between going to the gym, doing laundry and running errands, I was only able to get 4 hours in!

I'm about as single as they come and I couldn't imagine having to run errands for other people. I feel like all the married people I know always have shit to do- shit that doesn't apply to them. Well, I guess it does apply to "them" but not exclusively the person that is running the errand. And I'm talking about men and women. I know plenty of girls who get dragged to some bar hangout or party that they don't want to go to. Women also generally do the food shopping and the little things around the house- I feel for you ladies.

There is no point to this post other than me thinking out loud that I barely have time for myself (and my life is about as simple as they come) nevermind taking other people into consideration... Seriously, think about the last time you took off of work just to relax. Of those times, how many times were you able to catch The Price is Right?

"I love me some me"
-Terrell Owens

Fear and Grieving in Flushing

As you already know the Mets were eliminated from playoff contention last Sunday. I went to the game knowing they weren't going to win but I wanted to see the ol' girl off. And the Mets did a fantastic job with their closing ceremony. The obvious gripe is why did they wait until after the game?! Even if they had won, you would have had to kick all the players off the field while they were celebrating to start the ceremony. That was poor planning; but it really was amazin' to watch Tom Seaver throw the last pitch to Mike Piazza. This cements the Mike will eventually get his number retired.

I was thinking about my thought process as the Mets were pissing their season down the drain. It really came in waves of five...

I started denying how bad this team was last Thursday when we got the leadoff runner to third base in the 7th, 8th and 9th innings and only got ONE run in. And that run was WALKED IN! I can't believe this is happening...

I'm an angry person in general, so take this with a grain of salt. But my anger with this team really settled in Thursday night when I realized we had blown a golden opportunity to put our foot in the playoff door. The Brewers had won and the Phillies were off. Why me? Why God? Why?

I started to cope with my anger by thinking, "well, if we can just win two-out- of three, we should be fine." We only need 2-3... Please....

Well, it's Friday and we just lost again. Hope floats... in the Bronx, not in Queens. I mean there is the cloud over Shea and it's not from all those sketchy chop shops in the area either.

Well, it's official. Another winter of saying "wait till next year". I believe Rafiki said it best when he said "Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it. " Great... I'm quoting someone who throws his feces for fun. Seriously.