The Tides Have Turned

Now men can be the whores we were meant to be. (and trying to sleep with)


We can tell those women that mysteriously show up nine months after a drunken hook-up involving fresh linens anda few barnyard animals, "I'm sorry, Miss, I was on the Shot."

Imagine the look on her face as she would (no-doubt) turn her head in shame, while stammering incoherant sentances.

Why the hell can't scientists, who can put a damn man on the moon, come up with a shot that renders us humans immune to STD's? Let's face it, condoms blow goats. They may help your 2-pump chump, but they're hardly intimate & personal. It's like saying, "I'm going to stick my bishop in your funbox, but I don't trust you (read: love you) enough to accept the consequences of my most likely drunken choice."

Real fucking romantic there.

With the shot, you could pretend you trust (read: love) the person you're with for the moment. Never under-estimate the power of ignorance.

After all, ignorance is bliss, and so is knowing you won't have to show the doctor your puss-filled love momento.

Fools




Alright Mr. Carl fucking Jr. I will not starve without you. You are an ass.

Who the fuck can't crack a fucking egg? Seriously. I've never seen a man wandering in the meat aisle, unsure what to buy. That's pretty damn gay. You take the meat, season it up with whatever you have and throw it on the damn BBQ. It's that damn easy. Get some 5 minute noodles and you're set.

Do you advertising exec's think you're cute? For god's sake. If a man can't crack open a fucking egg, he deserves to die. I'm sure you CEO's who can't fucking wash their own clothes can identify with that shit. But it's fucking stupid. Without you, guy's would lose weight, you fucking butt pirates.

You know what else shit's the bed? The six dollar burger. For $3.95. Hmm, a deal right? Well, when you pay the six bucks at a restaraunt, you get fries and a drink. So, a large order of fries and a large drink at Carl's will set you back 3 bucks, minimum. Suddenly $6.95 isn't such a hot fucking deal. Not to mention; when you go to a sit-down joint, they actually cook that fucking patty of beef, dress it up with fresh veggies, and make it TASTE good. I'd rather wait another 5 minutes knowing that my food is coming to me fresh, unique, and most likely cooked without the minimum wage rage that most fast-food workers posess.

So fuck you Carl's Jr. Fuck you and the fun boys you roll with. I'll crack my own fucking eggs.

San Francisco

Well, I had a blast. Rolled over to Amoeba for my first time and bought some shit with Serg. That store is fucking boss. I had to restrain myself, and still spent nearly a hundred bucks.


While the wife's away, the boy's will play. And pay. Before we went out, I downed all but a few shots of a 1/5 of Wet, this tasty new gin by BeefEater. Simply delicious. We then went out for chinese food, and that's when I noticed that it was getting hard to act sober. The food was very good, but I have no idea what I ordered. It was red chicken. Pretty sure it was Mother's Chicken, but I can't be sure.

We hop in a cab and head for Milk, this pretty cool DJ Bar/Lounge where Stef was set to spin. I immediately go and meet the bartender, and ask him what his strongest drink is, and how much it's gonna set me back. It was a Hurricane, or Slurricane, for just under 10 bones. No biggie, so I order it. I'm drinking it as people start to flow in. Stef's getting warmed up in the rear of the club, getting ready to tear shit up.

From that point on, the night's a blur. I remember sitting on the stage listening to Stef spin, and it was HOT. The temperature, as well as her skills on the 1's & 2's, that is. So I ditch my hoodie, and represent my sleeveless John Deere shirt. I'm all fucking class.

The whiskey 'n' cokes to follow the slurricane become too much, and I decide that I must go outside for some air and a smoke. I guess sitting down was too comfy, because I awoke surrounded by cops talking to the doormen. I look around for Serg and Stef, and they're nowhere to be found. They wouldn't let me back in, for some reason, and the cop wouldn't listen to my drunken rantings and ravings about being lost in this fucked up hippy city. (I love SF, by the way) Come to think of it, I'm surprised they didn't cuff me for public intoxication. I was WELL over the fucking limit.

So being the Magellan that I am, I figure I can walk back to their apartment. So here I am, drunk off my ass, in freezing weather wearing a sleevless shirt, bald head, stomping through the sloped streets of SF, fists clenched, cursing my idiocy for not bringing the hoodie outside. I was fucking power-walking, not even paying attention to shit, when I realize that I'm fucking LOST. No damn clue where I am, and only a vauge idea of where I'm going. You could cut glass with my nipples.

Out of nowhere, I realize that this is a big city. Big cities have cabs. Sweet. Well, I must have looked like a serial killer, because it took like 6 cabs for one to stop and pick me up. Serg finally answered my call when they got home, but by then, I was in a cab heading to their casa. By phone records, I think I got to their apartment around 2:30. I made a drink, probably only had a sip, and tried to crawl into a sleeping bag. People, that's harder than it sounds. I was out in minutes.

By the way, they turned me onto this show on BBC America, "Trailer Park Boys". I had caught a few glimpses of it while turning channels before, but DAMN. That is some funny fucking shit right there. Get it.

Fucking Brilliant

My God...

It is done

I have registered the domain for liquidpersonality.com. I now need hosting suggestions, and tech help to get this piece of shit transferred there. When it's done, it will be ONE BILLION times better. Mostly 'cuz I can post pictures, which would be rad.

Top 10 Movie Badasses of All Time

For no reason what-so-ever, here are the top 10 movie badasses of All Time. The list is complete, and correct, so no bitching, bitches:


10.)Martin Briggs - "Lethal Weapon" Series
He's crazy, complete with mullet, and he can dislocate his shoulder at will. Plus, he has to put up with Danny Glover's constant bitching.

9.)Walter Sobchak - "The Big Lebowski"
'Mark it zero Smokey! Mark it zero!!!'

8.)Mr. Blonde/Vic Vega - "Resevoir Dogs"
'Are you gonna bark all day little doggie, or are you gonna bite?' I mean, the dude was gonna light a cop on fire. Cool. AFTER CUTTING HIS EAR OFF. Total badass.

7.)John McClane - "Die Hard" Trilogy
'Yippie kay-yay mother fucker'
So many people have used and abused that cute little saying. Ok, short tally here:
Running barefoot through a room of broken glass? Check.
Walking through Harlem with an, 'I hate niggers' sign? Check.
Putting up with Airport Security? Check and Check.
Plus, he had to put up with Samuel L. Jackson's constant bitching.

6.)John Shaft - "Shaft" (1971)
C'mon, it's in the song people. 'He's one bad motha...Shut yo mouth!'

5.)Sean Connery - "James Bond" Series
People, Sean Connery IS the only Bond. Get the fuck over it.

4.)Conan - "Conan, the Barbarian"
Sorry, but I only chose this movie, because he's a FUCKING BARBARIAN. A well placed M-80 can be a 'destroyer', but never a barbarian. Not to mention he could actually pick up that Buick sized sword.

3.)Bruce Lee - "Um, all his movies"
Hate if you want, but the dude revolutionized the popularity of martial arts films as we know them today. Well, and he died kicking ass. Even if it was 'Hollywood' ass.

2.)Jules Winnfield - "Pulp Fiction"
Cant have a list without Sammy on it. And what a fucking movie this was. Quoting scripture a very not-nice tone before planning to kill someone is badass. Bitching about brains gettin' in your afro is badass. Having another brother on the list is badass.

1.)Dirty Harry - "All 5 baby"
This series has been quoted, punned, played, tricked, mocked, mimmiced and idolized to death. But when you sit your pasty ass down and watch Clint spit those famous lines, you feel like maybe tonight you don't have to wet the bed after all. Maybe you can leave that closet door open. But in all honestly, Clint should have stopped the career there. Everything after "The Dead Pool" is waste.

It's not funny anymore

Why the fuck does Hollywood insist that playing off racial stereotypes in films is funny? That shit stopped being funny when Richard Pryor stopped making movies. Well, slightly before that. Seriously, the whole, "white guy hanging out with a black guy pretending he doesn't fit in" is fucking stale.

And how exactly is it fucking socially acceptable for the Wayans to dress up white? Female-white at that? Sure, rich white girls are a burden to society, but what the fuck? How is that funny? Instead of shelling out your money to rent that, why not go to your nearest Gucci store and yell bitch at every female that walks out of there? Trust me, there's much more comedy in that.

This is something Serg from beer and rap kinda touched on, but he was talking about the fools who dress up for fun and halloween like that. I'm talking to the fucking jews in L.A.. STOP. I fucking hate Steve Martin for making "Bringing down the House". Queen Latifah can eat the crust of my taint. Oh, Jackie Chan, you should have stopped at "Rush Hour". Though to be fair, Chris Tucker should have stopped before he made "Money Talks". This shit all should have stopped with "48 hours". That was the apex.

Hey, Chris Rock (an avid reader, no doubt), what the fuck? You're a funny little man on stage, but no sane person can pretend that your anything on screen. "Bad Company" had to be a misprint. You and Anthony Hopkins? Come on. I should slap the both of you. I'll just continue under the impression you were both drinking heavily when that gem of a script landed in your lap. Oh, and you're also guilty for not-funny white-black comedy with "Head of State". Watching you pretend to get old white people to 'get funky' isn't comedy gold. It's the corn in my crap.

I could go on for days, but I have to go dress up as a pimp, crawl into my escalade with 24's, and listen to the new Snoop.

Oops!

I fucked up yesterday at work. I don't mean I mistakingly called the boss an asshole. Or that I filled the red color ink with blue. It's not like I even got a speeding ticket in the work van. No, I couldn't get off that easy. Instead, I drilled through a water pipe. In an existing home. While the home owners were there. They make millions. They watched water spray across their entire living room. They watched me yell like a submarine captain, "Shut off the main valve!! DO IT NOW!!"

I suck.


But really, how the fuck was I supposed to know it was there? Stud finders don't work for shit, so I'm not to trust a copper-finder, if they exist. It took the plumber a half hour to fix, and it cost $300. I'm in the wrong field of work, lemme tell you.

It all worked out in the end, though I still feel like a horse's ass. But that's not so different from normal.

Jared fucking Fogel

I've kept my mouth shut during the internet's obsession with slamming Jared from Subway. But now that the fad has faded, I just have one thing to say...

So what? He lost a lot of weight, but he's stayed the same since he's become famous. So, in reality, he's advertising that, in the long run, eating Subway sandwiches makes you become a pasty white male with bitch tits. He's not still losing weight, that's certain. I haven't seen him hold up a size 38 pair of levi's, bragging about his current 36's. What the fuck man-boobs? Lemme see a six pack, and I'll shut up.

By the way, go rent Super Size me if you haven't seen it. Terrific film, and I'm starving now. God damn Ronald Mcdonald.

What a disgusting day...

I was heading to a job after a healthy Del Taco lunch when I took a drag off my cigarette. No big deal, except that it triggered my gag reflex, and I quickly had to vomit. You know when you have to throw up (and you're sober), you've only got a few precious seconds to find something to spew in. My only option was a Home Depot plastic bag. I grabbed it, while driving with one shaking knee (in the fast lane) and opened it, spilling my guts into it. I continue to have to vomit into the bag, while driving with no hands, trying to look at the road, for the next few minutes, while I try to manuver to the side of the road. Since there was no place to pullover, immediately, I eventually found myself in a professional building's parking lot, finishing off.

Since I'm in a company rig, there's no way I can dump the bag, uptight rich assholes would call me in, for sure. No trash can around. Fuck. So I wrap it in another plastic bag. So I finish the job, all the while my vomit sack is sitting in the work van. On the drive home; again, with no trash cans around, I get stuck in bumper to bumper traffic...with a sack of vomit right beside me. Disgusting, but funny.

Da boat

So I spent this weekend at Lake Shasta with some friends getting fucking tanked. Well...I was, anyway. Yeah...


I woke up around 4:45am saturday morning, and got the wife and kid in the car. I felt like a kid on Christmas morn. We pack up and head out, arriving at Bailey cove right around 9:30. I basically shoo the wife and kid off and open up my bag of liquid personality. Bam! A fifth of So-Co is gone by 12:30, and I start acting like a drunken cheerleader yelling for my friends to do flips and shit while riding behind the boat.

In retrospect, I should have been more supportive of their efforts. Because before I knew it, it was my turn to get behind the boat. Thank god I had some liquid courage. I start off on the knee-board, since I was too drunk to balance. No problems getting up, doing spins, but when I tried to clear the wake, I ate shit. Repeatedly. I still taste the fucking lake when I spit up a fatty phlem wad.

So we get off the boat at some time, and dresss in our fancies to go to Dry Creek Station, where we were met with 5 dollar long-island iced tea, and $15 dollar all-you-can-eat ribs. Though I opted for the prime rib & prawns, the conversation was nill due to extreme hunger.

I have a habit (not really bad) of really getting to know whoever is serving me food. Especially when I'm drunk.

"What's your name?" I ask.
"(name removed due to excessive alcohol intake)" she replied.
"Good, I hate getting my food from someone I don't know. "

She smile a bit oddly, and walked away with our orders. As soon as she rounds the corner, I realize that I forgot her name already.

"What's your name?" I ask.
She tells me again, and I respond with "Good, I hate getting my food from somone I don't know."

I did the same thing with the bartender, a fat, homely girl who was pleased to be treated so kindly by the sexy me and my sexxy boyz. This resulted in us receiving cheap drinks, to excess. She was going off on how she was such a nice girl, who rarely parties, etc. It was only later that I found out she has a breathalyzer attached to her car, and is on house arrest for her 3rd DUII. This was funny. So was me begging her to let me blow on her device, "just for fun". I'm sure I woulda hit .20 by that point.

So we hang around waiting for a few more guys in out party to arrive in Redding. Kareoke starts, and that's when I shine my best. Not becuase I can sing particularly well, but becuase I heckle with the best of them. I kept shouting sexual advances to a group of 10-ish year old girls who I guess are like this little bar's pride and joy. (Thus explaining the prescence of severe minors in a bar) Most people, I'm guessing their families, were not so amused.

I was asked to leave (mostly by my old boss, I think) after screaming out, "YOU SUCK!" to some dude singing some country bullshit song. I would have shown them all how it's done, but I was too drunk to read the song list. Too many numbers and whatnot. Their loss.

All this resulted in me waking up at 1:30am monday morning UNABLE TO WALK. Hypokalimia or some shit like that. My legs were cramped to all hell, and there was nothing I could do about it. All day at the emergency room led to me getting doped up with some cool pills to take home. I guess I just can't get drunk like a normal person anymore.

Six Flags

Man,

I went to Six Flags Marine World in Vallejo on Sunday. It was awesome. Perfect time of year to avoid crowds. Towards the evening, after 6, there was like NO ONE in line for the coasters. If we didn't have our son with us, we could have ridden Medusa (pure sickness) all night long. I got to see dolphins doing cute little tricks, a whale doing cute little tricks, and baby tigers, which were cuter than a pile of babies and puppies licking each other.

I did get to see a group of adult retards who were let loose of their home for the day. This one guy, dressed to impress with a stylish black helmet, was drooling while sitting near a palm tree. He kept looking at me, then to the empty space next to him. Kinda creepy, very little cuteness.

I made my friend, who was hopped up on Dramamine go on some true coasters. I thought he was going to pass out. I've never seen a full grown male so afraid of anything in my life. Alas, he survived, and stepped one step closer to manhood. Good boy, good boy.

Now that I know what time of year to go, and that it's only like an hour from my casa, I'm gonna get some season passes for next year. It'd be nice to just say, "Hell, I'm bored, let's drive a little bit and ride a coast, drink an $8 dollar beer, and come home". Be back in three hours, with a bit more adrenaline in your system.

That's the only bad thing about theme parks. I saw so many dads walking out of gift shops looking like they just visited the proctologist. They RAPE you there. It's not bad enough you have to pay 49 bucks admission, 10 bucks for parking, and 8 dollars for a beer (bill gates couldn't get drunk there), but they insist on charging 20 bones for a fucking disposable camera. I thought the food was cheap, 'till I noticed that the sandwich price was just the sandwich. Another 3 bucks was needed for fries, and another 3.75 for a soda. Damn. Oh well, I'm finna roll in there with my son's stroller packed full of goodies next year.

Why the fuck don't they put some shopping carts towards the rear of the grocery store? Or at least setup some fucking carry carts or something. I go in the grocery store to buy some tampons for the little lady, and I end up walking out looking like a human jenga puzzle, with shit stacked all across my torso, carefully balanced, while avoiding glares from people noticing the huge box of tampons.

These posts are short because my computer is shit. I'll buy a new one in a week or so. Until then, check this shit out. That fool got off lucky. Good thing he's not the crack-head that stole my shit.

Mouth Fart

Sometimes I can't help wandering what society would be like if we farted out of our mouths. I'm sure that people with halitosis would consider it a blessing, considering everybody would have shit-mouth. Imagine some actress whipping out a fart-bag during an important award ceremony. I think that would humble a lot of assholes, for sure. No pun intended.


Oh, I gotta go. My wife is bent over picking up toys, and for some reason it's the sexiest thing I've seen in forever.

Gotta get me some.

Joe's Crab Shack

So tonight I went out to dinner with a friend that I work with, his wife, my wife, and another couple to some over-publicized place called Joe's Crab Shack for dinner and drinks. Basically, it was o.k.. Except for the fact the place was crawling with tourists and pretentious assholes. Oh, and the hour long wait to be seated. And the staff dancing every 15 minutes to some sorry-ass has been song like the Macarena.

On a good note, the wife was seated at the bar, and was carded for drinks. Though she is not of legal age, the bartender was hip, and let her drink anyway. Too bad they charge ten bucks for a fucking mai tai. 5.50 for a damn beer. Our tab for dinner minus drinks was over $50 bucks. My ass still hurts.

The only thing that was funny was watching my 35 year old friend get up and put on a grass skirt holding two plastic crabs while we sang happy birthday. He was required to say, "I'm (name-removed), it's my birthday, and I have crabs" at every pause during the song. That was pretty cute.

Strippers are funny.

Random Thoughts

-Did you ever have that kid in elementary school that was crazy? Not retarded; at least in the 'needs special attention' sense, but just plain crazier-than-a-shithouse-rat kinda crazy. You know, the kid that always smelled like syrup and moldy socks. Our resident psycho was a redhead, with not-so-complimentary freckles. He actually socked the hottest teacher we had in the mouth, and held the bus hostage for the better part of two hours. And he was back at school three days later.

This was well before columbine, kids. Kids could bring guns to school, and get a verbal warning because there was no lock on the trigger. There were kung-fu fights everyday after school, where some fucking button-pusher would try Scorpian's finishing move wearing plain shoes on wet grass, and wind up with nothing more than a phone call home, and grass stains on his tushy.

-I have a bad habit of saying, "Your Mom" to any question that I'm asked. I can't graduate High School in my mind or some shit. So tonight, my 3 year old comes up to me while I'm cooking. I'm always kinda zoning whilst I cook, and rarely pay attention.

"Whatcha doooooIN?" he asked.
"Your mom," I replied.

It's so hard to stop laughing when you know someone truly doesn't get what you just said, yet wants to laugh with you, in order to be part of the funny. Especially when it's your son.

Family Matters.

it's raining men

The treasure is found. I got my car back. Shit yeah. Fuckers took 1/2 my tools, but left the CD player, along with a shitload of their personal CD's. I have a lot of shitty music now. I've never seen such a diverse collection. Obviously, they belonged to other people who's car these fucks stole.
Here's some of them (incomplete):

CD'S for free:

Metallica - And justice for all

EverClear - So much for the afterglow

Led Zepplin - Unknown w/ black dog

Mary J. Blige - The Tour

311 - Self Titled

Sammy Hagar - Unboxed

Bush - Sixteen Stone

Mariah Carey - Greatest Hits (disc one)

Creed - Human Clay

Fleetwood Mac - Greatest Hits (duplicate)

Switchfoot - The Beautiful Letdown (burnt)

Eric Clapton - Timepieces Vol. II (burnt)

Santana - Shaman (burnt)

Fleetwood Mac - The Dance

Totally HIts 2001

The Allman Brothers Band and Wet Willie

Lauren Hill - The Miseducation of...

Peter Frampton - Frampton comes alive

Mix Cd's - VIII

Now That's What I call Music Vol. 9

Nine Inch Nails - The downward spiral (burnt)

The Who - The Ultimate Collection Vol. I (burnt)

Rolling Stones - Let it Bleed (burnt)

Suicidal Tendancies - FreeDumb (burnt)

Oyster Head - The Grand Pedring Order (burnt)

Phish - No title (burnt)

Phis - Dogs stole things (burnt)

Peter Frampton - No Title (burnt)

Switchfoot - No Title (burnt)

Meat Loaf - Bat out of Hell II (back into hell)

Fleetwood Mac - Say you will (burnt)

Dishwalla - Opalint (burnt)

U2 - All that you can't leave behind (burnt)

Ben Harper - Fight for you Mind

Prince - 1999 (single, b/w How come u don't call me anymore & D.M.S.R)

The Best of Van Morrison (burnt)

Scarface - My homies

Shania Twain - Come on Over

2 pac - Until the end of Time (disc 1, burnt)

Metallica - St. Anger

8 Mile Soundtrack

Metallica - Master of Puppets (burnt)

Creed - Weathered

2 Pac - R U still down, disc 1

2 Pac - Greatest Hits, disc 1

R Kelly - Greatest Hits, disc 1 (?)

R Kelly - Greatest Hits, disc 2

AudioSlave - Self Titled

Southwest Riders, disc 2

Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats

Some hip hop CD that I couldn't find a title to

Hervi's Odd Couple - Thug Mania (the CD is so fucking funny looking)

Twista - Mobstability (burnt)

Notorious BIG - Ready to Die

Goodie Mob - World Party
But you know what? The cops just threw a bunch of shit into the car that was in their house, and drove it here. They told me to keep what I wanted if the shit was theirs, and throw the rest away. So I'm out some tools, but got a Stanley Wrench/Socket set and a bunch of car-stealing tools. I guess it's win-win. Except for the fact you can start my car with a screwdriver, and the shit smells like Rod Stewart after the weekend. It's fucking Christmas.

I need money. Hook it up.

Holy shit, I was watching this VH1 channel the other day. It's like VH1-345 or some shit. Anyways, I was in a daze, and this fucking video came on. If you haven't seen it, do it. DO IT. Mah god, I was horrified. It looks like some cable access shit full of ugly men and fat bitches. I couldn't stop laughing.


I can do that shit.

Thanks Asshole

Thank you so much for jacking my fucking car. It was a relative piece of shit, you fucking turd. As if this state doesn't suck enough ass, now I have no car. Also, thanks for stealing my tools that were in it. The only thing in my tool bag you're qualified to use was the fucking screwdriver. But even that probably confuses you since it's 10-in-1. You suck so much of my ass. But guess what? Come and try that shit again. Go ahead. I won't even lock the fucker. You know why? 'Cuz you're on candid camera, monkey balls. That's right. A fucking $700 dollar camera and vcr can fucking show every god damn pimple on your stupid faggot-face. Better hope I don't catch you driving my shit down the interstate. I pack heat, shit-stain.


Anyways, now that I have that out of my system, I think I have a problem. I ordered cable with all the possible channels. But every damn night, there's a Steven Segal movie on. AND I CAN'T STOP WATCHING THEM. Why am I so obsessed with a soft-hand slap-happy pot-belly that runs like a fucking girl? This shit has got to stop.

Tomorrow I get to meet the CPA for a bunch of NBA atheletes, and wire his guest house. Which is roughly the size of Rhode Island. What a way to start a fucking job. If I fuck up once, he'll cancel any pending jobs with whiny rich atheletes. Woo-fucking-hoo.

I decided not to continue the Bachelor Party story, since it's probably only funny to parties involved. But FF did end up M.I.A. by the end of the night. Who knows where he is now.

Enjoy.

The Bachelor Party

Well, here we go. Let's start by stating that the names of parties involved have been changed to protect the innocent. This is who showed up: Deadbeat (DB), HotRod (HR), MeanDrunk (MD), GothBoy (GB), FastFood (FF), and Eric Baker, who currently resides in Bend, Oregon. (contact me for more information)

Well, me, DB and Eric packed all of my useless shit into a fucking huge 24ft moving truck, and rolled down to Sac-Town. The trip was rather uneventful, except for the fucking weigh station. Out of all the trucks that move down the I-5 corridor, they thought that my fucking truck looked like it needed inspecting. Thankfully, they didn't look inside the cargo-hold, since I usually travel with 50 kilos or more of heroin. Instead, they wasted a half-hour of my time checking the brakes and all that shit on the moving truck. It was a little creepy being in such close proximity to a Cop, and having nothing to fear. I'm so used to being a fucking suspect, hoping they don't have any deep-ridden desires to finger my butt.

Let's just skip forward to Reno, NV, where the night truly began. (I'll skip the part about Eric Baker, of Bend, Oregon being a bitch about unloading the truck) We arrive in Reno at a time which I cannot remember. I do recall DB being so fucking adament about purchasing new shoes. After a 30 minute detour on our set course, we finally found a PayLess. Well, DB cannot find a pair of shoes to fit his fucking snow-shoes-for-feet that he likes. He finally settles on a pair of black clogs that are "too square" for his feet. Listen, if you can ski downhill on a mountain without a set of K2's, then you're probably not going to find a shoe on a whim that fits your desire. But I got a pair of shoes for hella cheap, cuz I'm a normal man.

So we roll over to Circus Circus (cuz saying it one time isn't enough; fucking Pizza, Pizza). The room was waaay more than we were originally quoted, so we bounce. Who wants to stay at the fucking county fair on their bachelor party anyway? Fucking clowns.

We procure our room at the Silver Legacy, 30 bucks cheaper, and a hella nice room. Finally, HR shows up, and we hit a buffet, to lessen our drunken pains to follow. Only, we missed the fucking BILLBOARD saying that this was s0me special "International Night", which jacked the price up significantly. Eric Baker, of Bend, Oregon, was a little strapped for cash, but he manned up, and paid the fare.

After bitching constantly that I needed to get drunk (which entails much more than the watered-down free cocktails) the night becomes a blur. Though I remember the entire night, I'd rather just give you fools some highlights:


-DB was asked, while pissing, if "I can see it" (referring to his penis, I assume)

-Eric got broker, so I gimped him along, on my feeble winnings (fucker made bank when I passed out)

-My nipples were literally rubbed raw by the damn shirt I bought. I had to find a fucking mini-market that sold band-aids (which is remarkably hard) to cure the problem. Then some whore was yabbering on about how she'd never heard a male talk about his nipples as much as I do. Bitch, at least my dick is worth more than your nightly charge, which we all heard, by the way.

-I recall screaming the Jack Black yell in, "Saving Silverman" (comin' at ya yiiiiiiii-haaaaaah) at least 20 times.

Then came the obligatory strip club visit. On the way there, I appearantly pissed out the Sacramento River on some poor business (that part was omitted from my memory) . Anyways, the night started to get pretty foggy. GB and all my men purchased a 'special dance' for me. It entailed me crawling my fat, drunk-as-shit ass onto the runway for a treat. They brought out a chair, and had me sit in it, making sure that my hands were behind my back. (as opposed to on their tits, I imagine) Brothers, Fantasy Girls is not for kids. Two girls came on stage and fucked my brains out. I don't mean that I had intercourse with them, but they humped the shit out of my skull. I was in pain nearly the entire dance. They kept doing trapese shit and banging my head into the dance pole behind my head. Fucking masochists.


To be continued....

Hello Again....Hello

Well, forget the hyperlinks, kids.


I have so much material, it's burning in my mind. I hardly know where to begin. Let's just start from fresh, after the beginning. Today, I found myself wandering through Roseville, looking for a particular store. On our route, I came across a most disturbing image.

Imagine riding with your family (or future family, you single losers) and coming across a store. Not like any other, but unlike anything you've ever seen. An 80 year old woman was hunched over the sidewalk. Nothing too crazy there. But what was on the pavement was definitely a surprise.














Vomit. (eat the spaces serg) That's right. The second day that I spend in this stupid state floods me with images of senior citizens vomiting outside of Mervyns (I thought they went out of business).

People, there are tales to tell. A tattoo artist with a lisp, drunken screams of 'comin' at ya yeeeeee-haaaaaahhhh', homosexuals asking to see it, retarded in-laws, and much, much more. Thanks for keeping in touch, fools.




Now go here, and do something worthwhile with your life. Dig? Bad movie, my ass.





Peace and deer meat grease....