The Picture Is An Exaggeration, Trust Me

500ml+ of rum imbibed…check!

Coherence…largely absent, error!

Alert, or something!

 

Like the crazy computer talk above, this blog has gone downhill over the past year, if that is possible.  This is mainly because I have moved to the suburbs, and has nothing to do with my disinterest in “blogging” with any kind of coherent mind.  Let me explain, and then likely ramble, because I’m only 40% coherent. But, I assure you, that should be plenty, just ignore what you know about percentages.  Also let me assure you that I am lying about that percentage.

 

In the suburbs, your house is 7 feet away from your neighbor’s house on either side.  Your back porch has a “lake view” obstructed by your asshole neighbor’s trees on one side, and the back porch of a house occupied by renters who don’t do shit but blast Latino techno (yes there is such a thing, as I have found out), play beer pong, and try to hit on girls that are dumber than your pets, and not necessarily much hotter.  If you are attracted to animals, I mean.  And if you are attracted to animals, always use peanut butter; it’s the safest way to get action.  But I digress.

 

On top of that, you have no real front yard except some trees and some grass for general pain in the ass maintenance purposes.  Making the front look nice makes people believe the inside and the rear are nice; like when fat girls have pretty faces.  The face has potential for at least a good blowjob, but when the clothes start coming off…well, y’know.  You keep going, and just don’t tell anybody.  But with houses that’s not a good idea.

 

Let me say at this here juncture, this is the last I have to say about houses, house maintenance, landscaping, and hopefully, fat girls.  No offense, fat girls. I’ve been there (meaning on a waterbed with you after too many – and the memories are interesting), and yes it is true that you will do absolutely anything, which is endearing to both my cock and my memories.  But, oh look, it’s late and I need to get home to my undisclosed location.  Yes, I’ll call you, promise!

I ca handle my liquer? Mebbe

Like I said, it’s on.  What that means, I think, is that I am now going to produce, and possibly at a rate that defies whatever it is that I originally thought needed some defying.  That might be the fact that my blog was boring.  So, I’m going to fight that with more of the same, which may or most likely will not help anything.

So, since the last house hunting post I have bought a house and spent goddamn untold amounts of time fixing it up.  I’ve also bought a car that has modern type conveniences like windows that seal, A/C, seats that move, and shit like that.  So, basically, I’m mackin’ up in this bitch, with my house in the borderline ghetto and a 7 year old  car.  Don’t  be jealous; if we all work hard, we can achieve the same things.  Or we can sling crack and have 09 Benz’s and a crew beneath us we have to manage, y’know, it’s all about choice.  Whichever way you want to roll; the results are the same, just slightly different.

So, I’ve cut down on the drinking.  Well, c’mon, obviously not tonight, but y’know, overall.  That’s a good thing.  The not-making-sense thing is that I now live in the goddamn boring ass ‘burbs – who the fuck has fun out here?  The only people I see having fun are the pre-college bitches who live across the way and have conversations that make me laugh on their cell phones on their back porches.  

So, yeah, I’m trapped in the ‘burbs.  I’m trying to find more humor in that, but instead find myself focusing on the airplaines flying overhead and whatever is on TV.  TV usually has some kind of cooking show that is a repeat of some other similary named show, sports event that is predetermined by the bookies, or news that is pre-screened by a panel of those who deem themselves above us. 

Or whatever, I don’t even know what that shit up there says.

I’m too drunk to even find a good tittie picture for right here, oh well.

Oh Snap, It’s On

lord jebus

http://www.boingboing.net/2009/05/05/your-blog-is-a-weapo.html#comments

Now that Blogs are officially a weapon, it’s worth me resurrecting this shit and keeping it up.  Ok then, we’re back!  I’ve had half a bottle of sake and 4 rum and cokes and it took me 6 mintues to type these few sentences…yep, we’re back!

Oh, and look, it’s Jebus, or something!  He loveded tiny baby lambs and BBQ’d them, I mean, c’mon, those things are fucking tasty as hell BBQ’d.  Maybe he didn’t, because they represented him, I don’t know, but what I do know is that Captain Morgan is not from Endor, and if Cap’n Morgan isn’t from Endor, and is a wookie, and therefore not an ewok, you must acquit.

The rules of life are simple.

Ah Damn, The 2nd Boringest Shit Ever

4 Asbach colas, 2 captain/colas, 4 vodka orange, 1 scotch.  That is the roadmap from tonight.  So far.  Work’s been suckin’ blah blah, plus they’re talking about laying people off again, so why not…just, why not.  The fact that it’s Monday night is irrelevant.

 

I do have an untouched bottle of Bacardi left here by a friend, but I’m debating the rations of ice left and what they should be spent on.  Somehow, Bacardi never comes up in the top spot.  The scotch is top shelf, but I’m putting it on top of this sweet mixer, which is probably a mortal sin.  A proper mouthwash with it solves that, but it also nearly makes me gag.  The burn going down is excellent as usual, but the fucking taste in my mouth is as bad as the stale, smoky air trapped in this fucking cubbyhole in the apartment; and like work, it all truly makes me want to throw up.

 

I’m house hunting, which is unreal in itself.  I’m keeping my 13 year old bimmer on the road with electrical tape and brake fluid bottles every week, but it’s working.  Apparently there’s a loophole in the home buying system where they don’t care if you can get a car loan – fuck it, they’ll give you a house!  So, sure, I’m qualified, and looking.  My agent has so far sent me every house in the motherfucking ghetto, but to his credit, they’re fairly nice houses.  I think I’m going to go outside the box and get something in a decent neighborhood; if I have to lose the pool to do it, well, y’know.  Life is tough.

 

Shit, a fucking house.  I have trouble getting 300 dollar unsecured credit cards.  Say what now?  But, to be honest, I’ve rebuilt all of that bad 20’s anti-credit, and am now a responsible citizen.  Maybe they can smell it on me.  Or maybe they can smell the fact that my credit score has jumped over 100 points in two years.  Either way, they need to get their noses out of my ass.  Maybe they smell me giving up.

 

I’m semi-under the grid.  Being completely off the grid would be awesome, but outside of winning the lottery or walking down to the labor pool every day at 7am, I don’t see a way to pull it off.  The labor pool isn’t that bad; I did it for a while.  You walk down, sign up, and wait for a job to come up.  Sometimes you wait for an hour or two and you are shit out of luck, but if you do get called, chances are it’s some kind of new shitty job in some new area with some other shitty boss.  The variety isn’t all that bad.  The work, maybe, but like today being Monday, that’s irrelevant for this post. 

 

I’m sure that made sense somehow.

We’re All Gonna Dieeeeee!

Unless you are homeless or extremely good looking, you probably have heard about the supercollider whatever that they built in France, and the theoretical danger it poses.  They finally got it cooled down to “space” temperature and the day it turns on approaches.

 

http://www.lhcountdown.com/

 

When they turn this thing on and it creates a black hole the size of a silver dollar, it is going to eat everything and we will all be slowly pulled into France.  I know, everybody’s worst nightmare, because once you enter the borders of France your will to fight against the pull of the black hole will just evaporate and you will try to surrender to the black hole.  Unfortunately, black holes don’t take prisoners.   Still, you might want to buy a beret and a mime outfit, because I hear those are popular where we all will be going.

 

So, you may want to rethink your life real quick like, then go ahead and do all of those things you’ve been putting off.  Me, I’m going to finish this drink then pour another and watch the chaos from my porch in my overpriced run down apartment.  Because I’m already living the dream; I have it all.

From Alcoholic Bum To President? Awesome.

Back a few posts ago (find it yourself), I mentioned that a small dream of mine was that somebody would do a retrospective on our current failure of a President.  I thought Michael Moore might wind up at the helm, but apparently Oliver Stone has already been filming “W”, which covers G-Dub and his fascinating fumble to power.

 

In Stone’s words, the film asks: “How did Bush go from being an alcoholic bum to the most powerful figure in the world?” 

 

http://www.slate.com/id/2188423/

 So, kind of, in a way, I can relate to Bush.  Because I’m an alcoholic bum too.  And apparently I could be president as well.  I should look into that.

Slate goes on to say that the script is uninspired – and they review it at the link above.  But, I don’t care if it’s uninspired, because it inspires me nonetheless to watch it and probably even buy the DVD even though I decided months ago not to buy DVD’s until Blu-Ray prices came down…and until I got a Blu-Ray player.

 

Oliver Stone making this is a bit more bonus than I expected, because Stone doesn’t pull punches and gets more attention across party lines.  Aka, the Republicans might not dismiss it right off the bat, like they would if Moore had made one.

 

Admittedly, looking through quotes from the script, it looks weak.  Really weak.  Hopefully it’s tweaked during production.  The latest news from production is that 2 of the actors got in a fistfight at a wrap-up party, then the cops showed up and tased the shit out of Wright while he already lay prone in the street and called him the “N-word” (it’s being filmed in the south).  Meanwhile, Brolin got a face full of mace for offering no protest at all.  Allegedly, of course.  Regardless, that is some high drama.  Hopefully the fight was just carry over energy from all the high drama that will be W, and wasn’t just two drunk, spoiled actors playing grab-ass. 

 

On a side note, I was on the way to lunch today with some coworkers, and one of them said “too bad we can’t impeach Bush, it’s too late.”  I said it’s not too late – at least we can show, just for historical posterity, that we weren’t bad Americans for the whole 8 years…just for 7 ½ of them.  So, there are lots of people out there who still think it would be a good idea .  And some of them are even Republican, tax-paying, hard-working, “patriots”.

Some fun related links:

Bush schedules a pep talk about the economy at the same time the Fed Chairman does…interestingly they have different viewpoints.  Coincidence?

http://www.thedailyshow.com/video/index.jhtml?videoId=176740&title=headlines-its-the-stupid-economy

Bush tours the U.S. to survey his disastrous presidency

http://www.theonion.com/content/video/bush_tours_america_to_survey

 

Oh January 2009, where art thou.

 

Photo is from maroonedinmarin.blogspot.com…in case they want credit.

Summer BBQ Drinking Game Roundup

It’s summer, a time to hang out with your friends at BBQ’s and enjoy the sun and drink beer.  Then either puke or make a pass at somebody’s wife and get punched in the face, whichever way you roll.  And what can make a BBQ better than friendly drinking outdoor games that involve everybody and get you shit faced as fast as possible? 

 

Nothing, of course.

 

So here is a review of the summer BBQ games that you might be enjoying over the next few months if you have any friends, and some notes on them.  Notes on the games, not your loser friends; nobody cares about your fucking life enough to take notes, sorry to break it to you.

 

 

Beer Pong

America’s frat house favorite, Beer Pong is a game that will get you fucked up right quick, especially if you have bad hand eye coordination.  You use a ping pong or ping pong-like table and set up plastic beer cups in a bowling pin shape on either end and try to throw a ping pong ball into the beer (half full).  If it goes in, you or your teammate have to drink the beer.  Pretty simple.  There are other rules about whether you bounce it off the table or throw it right in (it’s easier to throw it right in, plus the opponents can swat away a bounce…but a bounce is worth 2 drinks) – and there are other rules but the main point to hit on with Beer Pong is that it is actually fun, especially the drunker you get.  It is also the most unsanitary game on the planet because the balls bounce off of the table and all over the place, but what are you, some kind of germ pussy?

 

Beer Pong hint:  You can try throwing at the same time as your partner and have one of you choose to bounce it.  Distract the other team with a regular shot, then a split second behind it have the other team member bounce it in.  Also, if you are interested in a girl at the party, ask her to be on your team then either tank it so that she has to chug beers fast, or compete honestly and try to win to keep the table.  Because you are going to be drinking regardless, and it’s proven that girls are actually very good at this particular game.  I don’t have any science to that, just going from experience.

 

Cornhole

Throw the bean bag into the hole.  Take a drink or hand out drinks accordingly, however you want to do it.  I’ve played this, but it was set up on my dogturd mine field of a yard, so a hint with this one would be not to own a dog.

 

Washers

This surprisingly complicated game, for being invented by someone with obviously a lot of free time and washers and pvc pipe on hand, is actually a lot of fun.  Much like the other games, you and your partner stand at each box half (though opposite sides) and you try to throw your 4 washers into the box, into the pvc pipe in the middle, or land it on the edge of the box.  Each is worth different points, and certain points wipe each other out, and so fucking on.  This is easy to set up, or even build yourself, if you have a lot of free time and washers and pvc pipe hanging around.  Otherwise get it on Amazon, like the rest of these.

 

Washers hint:  Try throwing the washers with a backwards spin, this seems to make them stay in the box more.  And don’t play on concrete around children; that was a mistake.  Metal washers bounce off of concrete.

 

Top Toss

Somebody I know owns one these, though not the fancy NASCAR one, but it just sat to the side the entire BBQ and nobody showed interest in it.  Probably because it not only looks difficult even if you are sober, it also looks stupid.

 

Nonculture Drinking Darts

This is a homegrown invention, aka a Nonculture premiere.  Set up a dartboard outside – on the garage door or wherever.  You play a regular game of cricket (3 each of 15-20 plus bull…wiki it).  Also, set up cups underneath the board in whatever pattern you like.  Because as the beers go on, darts will be falling.

 

Here are the drinking rules:

 

DART IN MUG ON FLOOR = DRINK WHOLE DRINK

DOUBLE = PASS OUT 1 DRINK

TRIPLE = PASS OUT 2 DRINK

BULL = SOCIAL, EVERYBODY TAKES 1 DRINK

DOUBLE BULL = EVERYBODY TAKES 2 DRINKS

LOSING BY MORE THAN 9 HITS = TAKE 2 DRINKS

LAND A DART ON LEDGE = TAKE A DRINK AND PASS OUT 1 DRINK

 Darts hint:  I recommend only playing steel tip darts on real boards, not electronic darts.

Happy drinking.

De Vind of Change…Oh Shit I’m Rich!

“Dr.AliyuUmar” <umaraliyu@millarumrali.com>

Attn; I have been waiting for you to come down here and pick your funds but you din’t show up.Then I left behind(Compensation Sum)US$600,000.00 as a bank draft with my secretary in africa,because I have been in Africa for business and i am back in the UK for the holidays. I want you to contact my secretary and make arrangements to deliver your package.Contact her right away: Mrs. Faridah Dahlan faridah_dahl86@yahoo.com.sg I gave her your “delivery address” but you have to reconfirm it to her with your details and parcel ref # THT203/NIG/09N, to avoid any mistakes on the delivery as the draft contains a large amount. Let me know as soon as you receive your package. Yours Faithfully, Dr. Aliyu Ahmed Umar Federal Ministry of Finance

—————————————–

I knew something like this would happen someday.  I’ve just had that feeling, all my life, that my ship would come in.  I just had to be patient.  And as you can see, good things come to those who wait.  Though I can’t believe I din’t show up (oh no I din’t!), I see other arrangements can be made for me to pick up my birthright of 600,000.00 dollars.  I’m glad there were no cents added to the amount, because that would look suspicious.  I did look twice at the fact that Dr. Ahmed Umar doesn’t capitalize his “I’s” when referring to himself, but that is probably just because he is humble and does not want to flaunt his title of “Doctor” and “Minister of Finance” as the executor of my birthright.  Of 600,000.00 US, I must repeat.  Plus, he sounds Saudi, and they are all rich, so I’m certain this is legit.

Obviously I need to contact the finance minister’s secretary to correct my “delivery address” before I get my chedda, but I’ve already taken some steps towards my new life.  I’ve quit my job and told my landlord that I’ll be moving out within the week.  I’ve booked the Orlando Magic Dancers for a mud wrestling party, and…well that took up my life savings, but hell, that was peanuts compared to my new roll of cash.

I can’t wait to start my new life.  I’m sure it’ll be so different from my current life of drinking and fucking around and not thinking beyond the next few months.  I can feel the wind of change!

Just like Rudi Schenker!

What’s With Another Pirate Picture, You Ask? Because It’s The 4th of July, Retard

And pirates are what made this country great.  Well, at least the one to the left here has helped make it tolerable for me.  So, that’s worth something.

I’ve gone through and cleaned up previous posts so that they are now somewhat legible, and maybe even logical enough to be entertaining.  Depending on how wasted you are.  This is going back up for public view since I’ll be linking it from my other, new blog, The Literate Hypocrite (see blogroll to right).  It’s a site for drunken book reviews that make very little sense.  Because somebody’s got to do it.

So, with Captain Morgan in hand, we’re back online!  Oh, and I added my latest story, Downfall of Houlis, to celebrate all this online-ness, even though the story is still in its 4th draft and needs some work.  It’s your basic bar story, as usual.  Have to have the short story collection ready by October, so back to work. 

Happy 4th, mofos.

This Dudes ’stache is All Kinds Of Fucked Up

Yeah, so, I don’t know what the problem with the booze is, but it hasn’t been going down so well the past oh, 10 or so days.  Could be stress.  Or the lack of time caused by the stress.  But I think it’s stress, which is weird, because it is usually stress that causes an increase in the booze.  So go figure on that one, Miss North Carolina.

 

I didn’t really miss the booze too much.  I didn’t really sit there saying, “Damn, I need a drink.”  Which is super neat and all that, but I seem to have some side effects from not drinking over the past 10 days.  These side effects are not the side effects that I expected to have.  In fact, they are the opposite.  They are:

 

1. I’m way fucking over stressed.  Maybe I should diet.  Or exercise.  Or generally change my lifestyle.  Alright, that’s a stretch; have they invented a pill that simulates eating a salad and running while you actually drink a rum and coke and sit and write?  I’m a sedentary heart attack waiting to happen. But that’s ok; I’ll still be clutching my lottery ticket in my rigor mortis grip.  Because I am filled with hope.  That is why people buy lottery tickets; they are happy, hopeful people.
2. I’m just a tad bit more impatient than usual.  For instance, I’ve been finishing all of my girlfriend’s sentences for her because I am so impatient that I think I am clairvoyant and I think I know what she is going to say.  So I finish our conversation before she has 3 words out of her mouth, then turn my head and continue what I was doing.  I’m sure that isn’t annoying to her at all.
3. I have this awesome appointment with the toilet from 3 to 4 am for a massive mud shit that is painful, yet somehow gratifying.  Just, y’know, throwing that one out there.  I haven’t figured out yet where this fits in, especially since I used to think that this part especially was alcohol related.  Now I’m really fucking confused.

 

Needless to say, I finally got some drinks down tonight.  It feels good.  And it’s Friday, but that stress is still sitting there, on my shoulder like a fucking pirate’s parrot, ready to repeat any negative thought right back into my ear.  I want to wring its neck, but it’s imaginary.  At least that’s what my therapist says, but I don’t know if I believe him.  Peg Leg Petey the Parrot is real, I tell you.