Perfect teeth, borrowing fries, hurling booty call
Current mood: I'm too tired to think of a mood

"I'll sleep when I'm dead"

I believe that's Warren Zevon who sang that line. If not, well, I'm too friggin' tired from a weekend of idiocy to care, and it's apropo for how I feel right now. Let's get to the highlights:

- I spent a good portion of Friday night and part of Saturday afternoon talking to unavailable women about sex. Needless to say, I had a LOT of energy on Saturday night. Think of the Tasmanian Devil on viagra, and you'd be close.

- I was told by an attractive woman in a bar that I have perfect teeth. Now, normally, this would seem to be a compliment, but she said it in a way that seemed like an insult. Very strange. She left the bar shortly after, and I ordered a shot. I think we were both satisfied in our own li'l worlds.

- Late Saturday night, I popped into the Funk Box to see this band called The Soft Parade, which is a Doors tribute band. Now, I love the Doors, but this was a really weird scene. I expected the lead singer to look like Jim Morrison, but all 4 members of the band looked like the original members of The Doors. I was so freaked out, I had to go to Maria D's and get a slice and fries.

- At Maria D's, I saw a guy I used to play softball with, who was absolutely waffled to the hilt. He, of course, didn't recognize me. I guess it's hard to recognize someone if you can't see them, and he was looking at me, yet right through me, if ya know what I mean. His wife had to introduce us (I guess that would be re-introduce), which was really funny, because I've never met her. Or, maybe I have, and I couldn't see her due to my own personal issues with being waffled at the time. Anyway, he "borrowed" a fry (I told him not to return it), asked if I was on steroids (lovely), and then stumbled off. I wish I were making some of these things up.

- As I'm enjoying my fries, I got a booty call. I guess. I'm not sure what really constitutes a booty call anymore ... does it count if you don't have sex? is it a double booty call if it turns into a threesome? ... but whatever. After meeting me at my place, she decided to get sick in the bathroom before any of the actual booty call actions began. Note ... if your booty call is hurling, you ain't gettin' booty. Just a tip to live by. I'm also trying to see how many times I can use the phrase booty call, simply because I think it's a hoot.

- Sunday, went up to Jersey to hang with some friends at the beach. Now, one of the friends warned me about Jersey women, and he wasn't kiddin'. Great googily moogily. I've never seen so many women in heels in my life. Oh, and if you make any sort of eye contact with a Jersey girl, they immediately look away. So, the normal rules of attraction - you know, eye contact, smiling, hair flips, etc. - are completely out ... it's like swinging at a pinata while on mushrooms. Um. Ok, did I mention I was tired? Anyway. Oh, yes, and there are two interesting ratios going on with the women:

The older you get, the more makeup you should wear ... which is saying a lot, considering how much the young'uns were wearing
The older you get, the less clothes you should wear. Um ... yeah. I saw a LOT of things I don't ever want to see again. Or at least not for another 20 years.

Now, the absolute hottest woman in the bar we were in last night was also the cousin of one of my friends. Sounds like a recipe for success, eh? Wrong. She got freaked out because I took her picture. Um ... yeah. Needless to say, I got out of Jersey without having to propose to anyone.

Possibly more later ...

Mr. T imitation, stolen pants, baby pictures
Current mood: dumbly!

Ok, so it's no real secret that I'm a little out there. I have a tendency sometimes to have conversations with myself (mainly because I'm the only one that will listen). So, yesterday, I'm driving home, and I hear some reference to Mr. T on the radio. Now, to entertain myself, I decide to have a conversation between Mr. T and Mr. T's brother at the ice cream store. It went something like this:

T: What kinda ice cream you want?
T2: I want rocky road, fool!
T: I pity the fool who wants rocky road!

So, this went on for about 30 seconds, and it was wrapping up when I got home. Unfortunately, I forgot to stop doing it when I stepped out of the car. As one of my neighbors was walking by, she heard me say "I pity the fool who wants sprinkles!" in my best Mr. T voice. So, I'm not expecting an invite to her housewarming party.

More elevator idiocy. The doors opened at my floor, and the person getting on was standing right in front of the door. I mean, her nose may have been resting on the doors as they opened. Um, get out of the friggin' way! I think I might have to start taking the stairs.

So, this woman who I think is hecka hot smiled at me at the gym yesterday. I immediately went and picked out the ring and rented a chapel. What's that? Too fast? Bah!

Someone stole my pants! Now, if it were Lauren Holly or that Fergie chick from the Black Eyed Peas, it would be pretty cool, but no such luck. I dropped off some dry cleaning, and after 3 weeks of waiting for it to come back, I was informed that the truck was hi-jacked, and my clothes were in the truck. Who knew there was such a big racket for men's pants?! I feel like I'm a part of Goodfellas or something.

What's the appropriate reaction when a single man is handed a baby picture? Frankly, my first question is always "is this a boy or a girl?", but that never seems to go over well. Actually, I usually ask "what flavor is this?" ... maybe that's why it doesn't go over well. That's not a good one to take literally. I guess I'll stick with the fake smile and the nod.

I can't write by hand anymore. I've been doing email and typing for so long, I've lost the ability (if it was ever there). I tried to write a long love letter to Angelina Jolie the other day, and it looked like it was written by a 2 year old. Wonder if she has an email address ...

Is St. Elmo's Fire hilarious now, or what? I remember when that huge, wall-sized painting of Billy Idol with the neon earring was all I wanted in life (the one in Jules/Demi Moore's apartment). I've raised my goals since then. Now, I want Pez. Oh, and Steph from Survivor with no makeup on.

Here's the latest cat move at my house. One of them has started sleeping with me on the corner of the bed. Now, he's usually there when I'm getting into bed, in the nose-to-tail position. As I'm climbing in, he looks up at me like I'm some sort of idiot, getting into HIS bed. I usually counter this by 'accidently' kicking him in the can. Heh. I'm pretty sure he's the one that threw up in the bed, too. Nothing like being all sleepy, ready to crash, and seeing that. Cripes!

Today's new invented word is "dumbly". Use it at your own risk. It fits so many of my actions, it's scary. I'm writing Webster next.

Ugly Kid Joe, man in the ladies room version 2, cat hurl at 3 am
Current mood: falling up

Ok, there's a battle of the bands going on ... right inside my own head! Duran Duran's "Rio" vs. ... hell, I don't even know the name of the other song. Um, the chorus is "I hate everything about you". Maybe Ugly Kid Joe? So, anyway, don't EVEN ask how these got in my head, because I haven't the slightest idea. Friggin' head. I KNEW I shouldn't have eaten those brownies in college!

Ok, here's my "I'm pretty much a dumb oaf" story of the week. I went skiing one time, and managed to accidently go into the women's room to go to the bathroom. Now, the best part of this is, I didn't realize this until I was sitting down. I looked over, and there was some sorta trashbin for ... uh ... feminine products. Needless to say, we don't have these in the men's room ... at least not that I've noticed. Then, I realized there were women's voices outside. So, I sat and waited for the women to clear out ... and waited ... and waited. Finally, when I thought they had all split, I made a dash for it, and ran right into this woman who I had been talking to at the lodge bar, and was kind of attracted to. Needless to say, I didn't get her number after that. Not one of my finer moments.

In a related story, I'm unable to throw away old keys now. I cleared some keys off of my keychain once, and on that same skiing trip, realized that one of the keys was to my ski lock. D'oh! That's pretty much how I ended up at the lodge bar, then in the ladies room, then not getting that woman's number.So, the moral is, if you want to get an attractive woman's number, don't throw out any keys. You might want to write that one down for future reference.

We had one of those "WOO!" teachers in my spin class yesterday. If you don't know what that is, it's one of those people that feels the need to give you a good, loud "WOO!" every 30 seconds or so. In my new world that I'm inventing, those people will be locked up immediately, and forced to listen to Air Supply for a month straight. Should quiet them down some.

Lovely. Now I have "Lost In Love" by Air Supply in my head. Where's a good, sharp razorblade when I need it?

Is there anything worse than hearing a cat hurling at 3 am? You always have to make a mental note to remember it when you get up, too. Fabulous!

If it wasn't for Skinemax, there'd be no reason to have Cinemax. I'm basically paying $12/month for naked dancing.

Pegleg, Tuaca, striped shirts
Current mood: deviously innocent

Ya'll regular readers almost got a PWI blog late Friday night. That's Posting While Intoxicated, for those that don't know. I woke up the next day, read it, and deleted it. It was a beauty, if you like dumb ramblings about nothing. Wait, that's EVERY blog I do. Ok, never mind.

Plenty of stuff happened this weekend, but my personal favorite is this. I had a couple of friends come up from DC on Saturday ... we had a going away party for a friend, and went to the O's game as a part of it. So, we're sitting at a table outside Pickle's, and this dude walked by with a pegleg. Now, they're making all kinds of proste- ... prosthe ... um, fake limbs, but this dude decided to go with the peg. An intriguing choice, to say the least. Unfortunately, he declined the hook hand, the eye patch, and there were no signs of parrots in the vicinity.

'Course, my DC friends look at him, then look at me, like I had something to do with his peg choice. Friggin' DC people.

I have a tendency to get really bored around 3 am on the weekends. Just so you've been warned for the future.

So, we're at Pickle's after the game, and a buddy wants to buy another friend and I a shot. We agree, and he returns shortly thereafter with a shot. I take one whiff, and it's Tuaca. Now, I'd rather poke myself in the eye with a stick for about 2 hours than drink Tuaca and, frankly, I'm going to feel exactly the same in either situation. I thought about "accidently" dropping it, or doing the toss over the shoulder, but there were too many people around. In the end, I managed to fake drink it and slip it to a girl behind me ... who ended up dropping it. Go figure!

So, the new men's fashion is apparently striped shirts. I see them everywhere and, like rabbits, they keep multiplying. Are all men complete mindless lemmings when it comes to clothes, or what?

I'm watching Skinemax the other night, and the dude that won Survivor a few years ago, Brian Whatshisname, shows up in one movie. That was a tad disturbing. I didn't stop watching, mind you ... I mean, it's not like I look at the dudes anyway (since they're usually going by in fast forward ... heh), but it was a little weird when I realized who it was. I guess that's better than Richard Hatch showing up.

If you live in the area, and haven't been to Gecko's on Fleet Street for a meal, you should be arrested. Just an FYI.

Here's when you know life is getting interesting - I spent part of Saturday in a conversation between a woman who has breast implants, and a woman who wants to get breast implants. Guess what the conversation was about? You got it - breast implants! Needless to say, I worked really hard on my listening skills in that one. What did I learn? You'd think a conversation about breasts between two attractive women would be a lot more interesting. That's what I learned.

The final tip of the day - when you run out of money to pay the cab driver at 3 am, that's when they pull over and let you out. It doesn't matter how close you are to your house.

"Moron", Jarts, Pop Rocks
Current mood: sanely deranged

Beverly Hills! That's where I want to be! Living in Beverly Hills! Hey, those are my good 'friends', Weezer! Weezer and I are tight as hell, because they are on my friends list. We'll probably go out for drinks after I get off work. Good ol' Weezer.

Ok, today's first topic is the word "moron". Now, I know I do a lot of moron talk on here, but that's because there are sooooo many of them. But, today isn't about morons, per se, it's about the word oxymoron. See, my first thought upon waking today was about that word, and why the word "moron" is inside of it. I mean, you could put anything in front of moron, and it's going to bring it down. Geniusmoron, Magnificentmoron, Boobmoron (which is sort of an anti-oxymoron in itself). So, I feel for the oxy- prefix today, since it's being associated with moron.

Ok, so the first two paragraphs have been moronic. Let's see if it can get worse!

Is there some reason that, as an adult, I still sometimes hold it when I have to go whizz? When I was a kid, it was mainly because I didn't want to stop what I was doing at the time (playing Jarts, riding my bike, being molested by Michael Jackson ... damn! I promised no MJ references this time!). Now, I think I'm just lazy. I don't do the "I've got to pee" dance anymore, though. I'm not sure at what point I lost that one, but it's out of the repretoire. 'Course, if you've ever seen me dance, you might not agree - I often look like I have to go to the bathroom on the dance floor. You know that cute li'l saying "Dance like no one is watching"? How about "Dance like you have to whizz". Works for me.

Speaking of Jarts, I heard they took those things off the market because someone caught one in the head. Now, if that isn't somewhat comical (unless, of course, you happen to know the Jart catcher), I don't know what is. Imagine walking around the family picnic with a big orange dart sticking out of your head. If you don't know what Jarts are ... go look up the word "moron". Heh. Just kiddin'. I'm sure Google can answer that, because I'm too lazy to explain it.

Along those lines, remember when it was a fact that Mikey from the Life commercials died by eating Pop Rocks and drinking Coke? Rumor was he just blew up. I mean, that rumor was rock solid fact at one point, and no one questioned it for a second. Speaking of Pop Rocks, my college roommate's father sold them for a living, and we used to get cases of them and put them in shots. Rule of thumb ... Pop Rocks are cool going down ... they ain't so good going back up. Think of hurling a fiery acid stream, and you get the idea. Not so good. They don't pop as well upon regurgitation, either.

So, I got on the elevator today after this dude and a couple of other people. I reached over to push my floor button, and he said "Which floor?" to everyone (being nice to us, doncha know). I had already pushed my button, though, so I said "I don't like people pushing my buttons". He didn't laugh. I think I might be a little strange. News flash!

Beverly Hills! Damn. That's going to be in my head alllll friggin' weekend. Weezer, won't you let me be!?

I had two different people yesterday tell me that I don't look like my pictures at all. Now, when they said this, I asked if that was bad or good, and they both just seemed perplexed. I even offered to re-create the pose for one person, but they declined. Figures. I have no idea what this means, so if anyone wants to bring some insight into this phenomenon, I'm in. I guess in the end, I'm visually confusing ... so I've got that going for me.

So, the dude that invented taco salad just accidently dropped his taco, right? It broke apart into a mess, and he scooped it onto a plate and changed the name. That's the only thing that makes any sense.

Ok, I'm off to the weekend. Be good, Johnny!

Pillow flipper, elevator notes, sod off!
Current mood: promptly late

I'm a pillow flipper. Now, before you go gettin' all crazy with ideas of what that means, lemme explain. I tend to flip my pillows over to the cool side during a night of sleep. I mentioned this to one of my friends one time, and he acted like I had just talked about using hamsters for surfboards or something. I mean, a leper would get a better look. So, if there are other pillow flippers out there, bring it. I'm with ya. I may even start a group ... PFU ... Pillow Flippers United!

Along with that, I also have something like 6-7 pillows in my bed. I'm seriously close to sleeping straight up sometimes. I also sleep horribly if I only have one or two pillows. So, now you know why thoughts like this come out of my head. Want to write idiotic blogs like this? Well, just get yourself a handfull of pillows for your bed, and you'll soon be churning out this sorta noise.

'Course, it could also be due to all of the 'mental experiments' I did in college. Let's move on ...

So, we all have the story of the dope that gets on the elevator and pushes the button that's already lit. Well, yesterday, I had sort of a reverse situation. I walk out to the lifts (I'm getting English on your heiny here), and this dude is standing there waiting, yet neither the up or down button is lit. I was a tad confused by this ... kinda like seeing a guy with a human head in his hand at the deli, only without the human head. Hmm ... ok, that didn't work at all.

Anyway, so I just sorta stood there for about 10 seconds. I wasn't sure if (a) the light was broken (44% chance), (b) he was an idiot (42% chance) or (c) he was waiting for his spaceship to pick him up (14% chance). Luckily, before I had to make that decision, he leaned over and pushed the button. Weird. Needless to say, I waited for the next one.

I have lots of elevator stuff, but I think I'll save that for later. I don't want to put you to sleep too quickly, my pets.

Here's what it's like to be me. I wake up this morning, and the first thought in my head is what a cool expression "sod off" is. I mean, you can say that to people in America, and they have no idea they are being insulted. Sod off, dude! This is my thought process upon awakening. Must be the pillow effect. Or is that affect?

Ok, here's a note from the rock concert I went to last night. Ever notice that women will grab other women to go dance, and walk/run/dance as provocatively as possible all the way to the dance floor? Maybe I'm the only one noticing this stuff.

So, here's the latest cat move at my house. Well, it's been going on forever, but this is the first time I'm airing it in public. It's therapeutic. Feeding time is a bit of an issue between the fur-coated ones and myself. They get fed in the morning when I get up, but it's generally after I take a shower and get myself all prettied up. Unfortunately, they seem to think that I should jump out of bed and immediately sprint downstairs (just like they do ... they even show me how to do it) and feed them. Now, there are two comical things that happen from this situation:

(1) When I'm heading for the bathroom to shower, I happen to pass the stairs on the way. I like to give them a little fake like I'm going downstairs, and watch them sprint down. Always good for a chuckle. They stand at the bottom with this bewildered look on their faces EVERY SINGLE DAY! It's like they have no memory at all. Classic.
(2) I generally brush my teeth last. At this point in time, Batman will run up the bathtub and jump on the sink with his front paws and look at me, then run back to the stairs. Sort of a "let's move it along, dumbass, I'm wasting away here" sorta move. Also never fails to crack me up.

Oh, and I referenced a friend who had a ram farm in an earlier blog. Turns out, there were only two rams, not an entire farm like I thought. So, my cover is blown. Instead, they had a broccoli farm! Imagine that as a kid. I mean, I grew up on a chicken farm with some cows, we had eggs, milk, etc. This poor child grew up with nuttin' but broccoli for miles and miles and miles. That's rough. That'd be like growing up on a Michael Jackson farm.

A'ight, I'm going to go work on my analogies ...

Salad bars, Ginger/Mary Ann, hot neighbor
Current mood: barking at spiders

I'm finishing up lunch, which included a salad from the bar in the cafeteria. Today's question on salad bars (actually, this is my ONLY question on salad bars) ... why do they put the good stuff all the way in the back? I mean, I've got my nose smashed up against the sneeze guard, trying to reach the cucumbers, and the friggin' chick peas that no one wants are right in front of me. Some sort of salad bar conspiracy going on there. The chick pea likin' folk must be loving life, though. Bastids.

Today's song that won't get out of my head so much that it makes me want to top myself is "Somebody Told Me" by The Killers. What sucks majorly about this is I haven't heard that song in about a week. It's like every now and then, the brain gremlins just decide to throw one out there to really mess with me. When they are really jackholes, they throw out the Love Boat theme. Whoop, there it is!

As an aside, how sad is it that I sometimes can't remember how old I am, but I have no trouble singing the theme to Gilligan's Island?

Speaking of GI, here's my theory on the whole Ginger/Mary Ann debate. Now, I think it's a pretty basis assumption that Mary Ann is very innocent, possibly even a virgin, whereas Ginger is a vixen. Now, if you're going to be on an island forever, do you really want to take a chance with someone innocent? I mean, teaching her stuff wouldn't be that big of a deal, but what if she doesn't like to do something? You're stuck with that forever. Ginger on the other hand, there's no worries there, eh?

Oh, and by 'something', I'm talking about going for coconuts or making a radio out of bamboo. Get your minds out of the gutter people. Heh. I can't even write that with a straight face.

And just like that, I've mentally gone from Somebody Told Me to Mr. Brightside. It's like the gremlins changed the track on the disc in between meals or something. At least I'm on the same group. Cripes!

I made BBQ tilapia on my grill last night, and it was awesome. Unfortunately, approximately 72.4% of it ended up IN the grill. Cooking fish on a grill is a tad tricky, just so's ya know. How can you tell the fish is done? Why, when it falls in the grill, of course!

Every time I see my new neighbor, she gets hotter. I figure in another week, I'll be living next to Angelina Jolie ... which should raise my property value some.

Is there anything better than lying to a solicitor? I told someone the other day that I wasn't 18 and therefore, not old enough to make the decisions in the household. Classic.

Question of the day ... if you could go back to high school and do it all over again NOT knowing what you know now, would you?

Mystery moisture, junk email, blue pills
Current mood: quietly boisterous

So, I just went to the men's room, and there was some mystery moisture on the handle. I spent the next 20 minutes holding my hand under hot water and scrubbing it with soap. Ok, I'm not THAT bad, but there are definitely a couple of places you don't want to be feeling any mystery moisture on door handles:

- any bathroom
- strip clubs
- Michael Jackson's house

I think if I ever went to MJ's house, I might have to wear an entire rubber suit. Like a giant condom or something. It also makes sense now why he was always wearing that glove.

Ok, enough of that. Today's topic is an interesting one ... to me. Junk mail. We're going to do a little exploring into the noise I get in my junk box. This will be quick and painless, I promise ... kinda like sex with Michael Jackson. I think I've worn out all of my MJ bites for this year.

Ok, I've gotten two emails from different people who want to sell me something known as MULT IO RGA S M. I haven't quite figured this one out yet. I figure it's some sort of acronym for something, but I don't know what MULT, IO, RGA, and S M means. I originally thought it might be multiple orgasm related, but I figure no one could spell that poorly, and I'm a guy, so I can't even do that (or so they tell me). So, this is clearly in error. Maybe some of you women can help me (or I can help you ... wink wink).

I've received an email from a mortgage company with the subject Fre e Qu ote. Now, call me crazy, but I don't think I'm going to borrow money from a company that's CLEARLY having trouble with the space bar on their keyboard. I mean, that's just a problem waiting to bite me in the ass, if you ask me.

It seems a number of companies are having space bar trouble. SeePhotosOfPeopleNearYou, YourFreeBusinessWebpage, CutAllBillsBy75%Fast are all in my Inbox. Maybe I should open a space bar fixing company. Seems like I'd rake it in. Or maybe the people typing these things don't have thumbs.

My personal favorite, however, is this one - EnlargeYourLoveLifeToday, which is from a young man named Michael Williams. I'm not exactly sure what Mr. Williams is peddling, but the email has a picture of a man and a woman, presumably nude, either in a rainstorm or a shower (or taking a shower in a rainstorm). Apparently, if I take a blue pill, I can take a shower (or get caught naked in a rainstorm) with an attractive woman. This is where I get a bit lost. What does the blue pill have to do with it? Why is it blue? Does it have ANYTHING to do with The Smurfs? Also, to borrow from the wisdom of George Costanza on Seinfeld, I figure if I apply myself, maybe I can get the rainstorm/shower with the attractive woman for free? In the end, I'm very confused after this 'study', so any info would be greatly appreciated. Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Conspiracy theory for the day - do you think they put fake profiles of really hot people on dating sites just to get people to join? Then, you pay your $20 or whatever, and you end up in what is essentially a Star Wars bar, surrounded by droids and Jabba the Hut.

HFStival, evil women, boob sale
Current mood: temporarily permanent

Another weekend down. Time to start planning the next one! Is it a good thing if I'm still hungover from Saturday? Oof.

So, let's see. On Friday, I went to see a Nationals game with 3 of my boys in DC. We're going to skip what happened after that with a hot girl at a bar. Let's just say I had a bigger crash and burn than Goose in Top Gun, and I'm about $100 poorer from buying drinks. I absolutely adore women, but there are a few out there that are just pure evil. I guess that makes up for the 98% of men that are idiots, eh? Heh. Ok, let's move on from that ... quickly!

Saturday was the HFStival, and it was a blast. Notes:

- Billy Idol rules. He looks exactly the same as he did 25 years ago, except he's a little buffer. He stole the show.
- A big rainstorm in the middle of a concert is really cool until the lightning starts. Then, it's a little wiggy. Here's a tip ... when the lightning starts, don't start talking about the Tibetan Freedom concert. Idiots.
- Along those lines, if it rains hard for about an hour and then soaks everyone, then it turns a little chilly, Coldplay is probably not the best band to hop on stage. Crimeny, they have the world COLD in their name! I love their music, and they are a good live band, but they took all the energy out of the joint. Bad timing.
- I love the Foo Fighters, but when one of your friends is asleep, it's time to leave the show. Got to see 5 of their tunes, though. Dave Grohl is still the man.
- The lead singer of the New York Dolls scared the hell out of me. Seriously. We were walking on the field, and I looked back at one of the big screens they have, and there he was. Think of a cross between Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, except he looks like he's been doing heroin for oh, say, 217 years. I am seriously amazed that the dude is even alive. He's probably married to some hot model, too. Go figure.
- From the "it's a small world" department, I met a guy who was from Indiana. As if that wasn't weird enough, his hometown is right next to mine. I go to a rock concert 700 miles from home, and that's who I meet. I couldn't write fiction better than this stuff.

Those are pretty much the highlights. Oh, and apparently, there was a sale on implants recently, because they were EVERYWHERE. I haven't seen that many fake boobs since Oasis broke up. Sorry. I'm really reaching for a good metaphor here, but I can't think of any literal fake boobs, other than those guys.

Anyway, so that was Saturday. I spent yesterday snoozing and watching the movie Ray. Really good stuff, that. 'Course, now I have to go buy the soundtrack. That's how they get ya.

Random thoughts:

Steph on Survivor looked better on the island. Too much makeup when she gets all dolled up. She's about 7.6% less hot when she's dressed up.

If I hear someone say "I'm Rick James, bitch" again, I think my ears may start bleeding.

If you're throwing up and crying at a rock concert, stop drinking alcohol. Just a tip.

Ah, it's Monday, and I got nuttin' in the random category. Amuse yourselves for now!

Magic wand, cell phone rings, Newman!
Current mood: lightning slow

Ah, one last bark before the weekend. Bark!

Along the lines of I can't believe I'm the only one who thinks of this stuff, someone posted a poll on another site I visit about which tool you would pick. There were a number of choices: hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy, light saber, sneakoscope, R2-D2, C3PO, invisibility cloak, magic wand, and a couple of other things. I really need to look into getting patents on my thoughts because the obvious choice is magic wand. With that, you can MAKE all of the other stuff. Too bad this stuff wasn't on the SAT.

I'm going out with some boys in DC tonight, and we're known for drinking ourselves into a stupor. The best thing is, two of them are married and one is in a serious relationship, so I essentially have 3 wingmen. Nice!

Tomorrow is the HFStival, and I'm extremely fired up for this baby. I get to see the Foo Fighters, which is enough right there to sit through a whole festival, plus Coldplay, Billy Idol (Billy IDOL!), and some other musical folk. Good stuff.

The hardest part is getting booze into the event. They don't let anything in, especially after there was some sort of bottled water war at one of these a few years ago. I mean, there's fun, and then there's a bottled water war. Yeah, I don't really get the appeal, either. That's either a sign of age, or a sign that I realize that some things are just dumb. Probably a combo. In the dumb category, there are 95% of all baseball players in the world. The other 5% can tie their own shoes on a good day. Oh, and I played baseball, so that tells you a lot about me.

Someone just mentioned the phrase "420", which always makes me snicker. It was actually work-related, too. Stupid drug references, trying to get me in trouble.

I bought new windshield wiper blades, and I guess one of them wasn't long enough, because when I use them, it makes this lovely screeching sound as it goes across the windshield. Think fingernails on a chalkboard, Joan Rivers' voice, and a cat in heat all rolled into one, and you'll get the sound. Not good times.

I called someone a boner today, and was told that word is a bit dated. How could BONER be dated? It's so perfect! I mean, it's useful in so many ways, I can't even count. Damn. You know, I think the person that told me that is a BONER. So there.

Cell phone rings are basically the "Name That Tune" of our generation. Someone's phone just rang, and it's driving me crazy trying to figure out the tune. Christ, it's "Sugar" by the Archies! I swear to God, I just had to go Google that. I'm starting to disturb myself.

Isn't it great that "google" is now a verb? It's only a matter of time before it makes it into other things ... did you get "googled" last night? Yeah, and now I've got a "google". Hmm ... you should probably go see a doctor to get that "googled". Etc.

Is there some reason Paul Newman has a spaghetti sauce? In what world is the name "Newman" Italian? Do you think he gets tired of hearing people saying "Hello, NEWMAN!"

There's your Seinfeld reference for the day. I should probably do one of those each time, since I know every single show by heart. Ain't that a sad caper?

Speaking of sad capers, I've been playing that on the guitar recently. It's a Hootie song ... and, yes, Hootie was recently seen in that weird assed Burger King commercial. So, the moral is, if you're a big pop star who's name is Hootie, expect to be pimping yourself to onion rings and the Whopper a few years later.

Speaking of Joan Rivers (was I speaking of her? well I am now!) ... um, pardon my French but WHAT ... THE ... FRICK!? Ok, that ain't French, but whatever. She pretty much has a brand new face, and it shows. She's making a run at Michael Jackson for scariest looking person. 'Course, since she doesn't play with boys (as far as we know), she's got that on him.

A'ight, folks, I'm off to the weekend. Have a good one, and do everything I would do! Yahoo!

Earrings, fat boys, Girl 6
Current mood: snuffleupagus-ness

So, why is it that stuff at Sam's Club is usually about 10-20% cheaper, and it usually tastes about 20-30% cheaper? I had some lobster ravioli last night that I got at SC, and it's pretty darned average. If I'm going to calorie splurge, I don't want something average, consarnit.

There seems to be some sort of fashion trend with women regarding earrings - I guess the longer, dangly ones are in vogue now, which I think are pretty cool. Now, normally, I don't notice earrings at all ... I'm generally busy looking at ... um, other things that interest me, and whatever is plugged into the lobe isn't the first on my list. Previously, the only earrings I noticed were the big, flashy hula hoops ... think Jody Whatley (who I used to have a big thing for), and you'll get the gist. So, these are added to my list along with ankle bracelets and chokers. Now, if I can find someone who wears all three, I'm set. Knowing my luck, "her" name will be Roger.

Someone was questioning how much water I drink at work today. Now, I work in a hospital, where health is supposed to be paramount, and H2O is the key to life (along with Pez and porn, not necessarily at the same time). What's wrong with this picture?

I have a new neighbor, and she's kinda cute. Guess I can't be watching Skinemax with the sound up anymore. Shoot.

Along those lines, I was watching Girl 6 the other day, which is an old Spike Lee movie about a woman who becomes a sex talk ... uh ... person. What do they call those people? Anyway, there's some pretty explicit language in it, and I realized that my neighbors probably think I'm watching porn or something. It's a legitimate movie! Dag! There's also a great Prince song in it, which I downloaded yesterday. Today, it will not leave my head, no matter how much I scrub. Jeez.

So, I'm kind of a fan of the show King of Queens, mainly because Leah Remini used to be wicked hot. Well, she's huge now ... think Kirstie Alley, and you're on the right track. Hmm ... I may have discussed this previously, but I'm past the point of caring now. In fact, I completely lost my train of thought. Let's just move on.

What's up with all these TV shows with hot women married to fat, dumpy men? Should I stop going to the gym and gain 50 pounds? I mean, if it means I'm going to be dating Jamie Gertz in a few months, I can do that. I have no problem making another run through the line of Ben and Jerry flavors, if that's what it takes.

HFStival on Saturday, and it's supposed to rain. 'Course, the weatherpeople around here have absolutely no clue what it's going to do in 1 hour, never mind 4 days from now. I actually used to feel sorry for them, until I realized they have tremendous job security. They could just throw darts at a weatherboard and report that, and they'd still be close most of the time.

So, if you rubbed a bottle, and a genie came out and granted you three wishes, what would they be? I'd only need one. I'd ask for a hundred more wishes. I can't believe I'm the only one who thinks of this stuff.

Tough pickups, married keyboardists, drunk dialin'
Current mood: inconsistently consistent

Ah, another Monday lunchtime blog. Good ol' Mondays. I love you Mondays so much! I wish I could give every Monday a big kiss ... and then a nice, fat kick in the ass. Stupid Mondays. Ok, I'm calm now.

Let's see ... highlights from the weekend ... that I can remember ...Saturday, went to see an 80s cover band at the Funk Box that was a lot of fun. As we're bouncing around on the dance floor, one of my buddies decides he's going to pick up the keyboardist. Maybe I should've let this go, because it might've been pretty comical to watch, but I pointed out to him the HUGE, GLITTERING WEDDING RING she had on her hand. As payback for this info, he then made me do a shot. Seems fair.

We were supposed to go to the O's game on Saturday. Nice day, we get to Pickle's, start drinking, and realized that we could watch the game at Pickle's and drink for a whole lot less. Some strong decision makers my friends and I are. Next thing you know, it's two hours later and I'm seeing triple.

I also spent most of the night running back and forth between Mother's and the Funk Box. I was supposed to be hanging with a group of people at Mother's who were celebrating a friend's graduation, but I really don't like that place. Too dark or something. Or, maybe it's just that I've never picked anyone up there. Heh. Either way, she asked me today where I was all night. Hmm ...

Oh, along those lines, here are the three toughest women to pick up in a bar:

1) The drunk one who has two friends, aka bodyguards with her ... pretty much impossible
2) The married keyboardist
3) Bartenders ... now, they might not be that hard to pick up, but you have to wait until all hours of the night for them to get off work

Annoyance of the day ... people that start a statement with "To be honest with you". Um, were you lying before?

Fairly comical statement a friend made about a dishonest person - "if he says it's Tuesday, check the calendar".

Checked the phone on Saturday morning ... called a total of 15 people between the hours of 9 pm and 1 am. I didn't even know I had that many friends total. Kinda frightening. Managed not to call anyone on Saturday. I'm very proud. 'Course, now I'm going to get emails from people who I didn't call on Friday. Go figure!

I just did some serious clothes shopping ... at Old Navy. Heh. Never let it be said that I'm a fashion hound, or on the cutting edge. I'm still trying to figure out how to accessorize something with a chest stripe on it.

A'ight, back to work I go ...

Ram farm, chivalry, man in the ladies room!

Current mood: blatantly sublime

It's officially the Cinco de Mayo letdown day. Ok, not really. Went out last night for a bit, but it was apparently college night on the Square, so had to ditch that scene. Didn't want to get involved in a suck and blow game or a panty raid, doncha know. Do they still do that stuff?

Couple of funny things did happen, however. There were 4 of us, and at one point, we were undecided as to where to go next. So, we each wrote down where we wanted to go next, and threw them in a hat. My friend Jim pulled out the votes ... first was Lori (the Horse), then mine (Colburn's), then Jim pulled out the third vote, looked at Janet, and said "did you vote for this?" Uh ... dude ... either it's her vote or yours, and you know what your vote is! Gave him the business on that one. Ok, guess you had to be there.

Second thing, which might be a little more intriguing, is that Jim, who is my boy by the by and a helluva guy, used the ladies room when he went to take a whizz. Now, women use the men's room all the time, but there really isn't any way a man can justify using the ladies room. Sorry, fellas, but it's just not possible. He pulled out the "there wasn't anyone in there", the "I really had to go", the "the guy in the men's room was in there forever" ... nuttin' worked. I, of course, asked him if he at least sat down when he whizzed. Heh. Ah, the poor guy ... I guess we all have to learn these lessons at some point. Moral: if you want to guarantee that you aren't getting laid some night, use the ladies room.

The final thing, which wasn't that funny but was more of a dumb thing, was of my own doing. I had on a collared shirt over a T-shirt. Well, when we got to Colburn's, Janet was cold, so she made me take off my shirt and give it to her. Well, she didn't MAKE me, she asked me, and I have a tendency to go a little overboard on chivalry sometimes. So, now, I'm standing in one of my favorite bars, and I look like a complete doofus with just a T-shirt on. Never let it be said that I'm not vain and shallow, either ... as if that's secret information.

Hmm ... that story really wasn't all that good, either. I'm going to lose my sponsers if I'm not careful!

I managed not to see Survivor last night, my best friend TIVO got it, so if you've partaken already, clam it. Plus, I might have to slo mo the part where Steph walks out to be on the jury. Hey now!

I have the theme song from "The Odd Couple" stuck in my head right now. It's good NOT to be me right now. I mean, where the hell does this stuff come from? I can't wait until I'm 70, and I can't remember any of this stuff.

You know, I can't make this stuff up. I just had a long talk with a co-worker who used to live on a ram farm. A friggin' RAM FARM! I'm not sure whether that's funny or just odd. It's fudd.

Ben and Jerry's have this new "Body and Soul" line of flavors out, with 25% less sugar and fat ... I think. Something like that. So, I eat an entire pint now. Wait, I did before. Never mind. Anyway, I'm 25% less sugary and fatty now, which is always a bonus.

Ok, I'm off to my weekend. Have a good one, ya'll!

Ole!, pissed, man cryin'
Current mood: drowning in dehydration

Happy Cinco de Mayo to ya! Ya know, I'm not really all that big into this holiday, but I figure if I make enough noise, maybe someone in DC will turn it into a national holiday, and I'll get the day off! Aren't I a manipulative SOB? Um, don't answer that question.

To celebrate it, I'm going to the gym, doing laundry, and watching Survivor. In other words, the same thing I always do on Thursday. Maybe I'll speak broken Spanish to the cats all night. That'll teach 'em to wake me up at 3 am.

Lemony Snicket. Haven't seen the movie, but isn't that just fun to say? Try it. See?

How comical is it that people in England use "pissed" as their word for drunk? I think I'm using that from now on here, just to really mess with people. You know, "I got really pissed last night," then just watch the wheels turn in their head as to whether they want to ask me why or not.

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit this, but I like a Kelly Clarkson song. Let's move on ... quickly.

Ok, I'll admit it. I almost cry ever friggin' time I watch Good Will Hunting. The interesting thing about the almost cry thing is that I CAN'T cry. I've been so conditioned as a man NOT to cry that I actually can't do it. I tear up, but then they just dry up and go away. I guess my acting career is over. I'm sure Joaquin Phoenix feels safer now.

So, last night, I'm cooking out, and my three little stray cat buddies are hanging around in the neighbor's yard. I kept hearing this squeaking noise, and I finally realized they had caught a mouse. Now, those of you with cats, and maybe some without, probably know that they are incredibly cruel creatures. Cute and furry on your couch, Charles Mansonish in the hunting world. They have a tendency to "play" with their prey, sometimes for hours. Ugh. But, since I couldn't go hopping into my neighbor's yard, I couldn't really help the mouse, and then there's the whole "natural order of things" going on as well. Not the best of dinnertime events.

They are three of the most beautiful cats you'll see, though. They each stare directly at you with big, bright eyes, have very similar markings, and have similar personalities with their own unique little tweaks. Pretty fun stuff to watch as the sun goes down over the city.

Crack house door etiquette, Future Porn Stars, "hard blacks"
Current mood: frenetically bored

Cue the Blog Song ...

Let's see ... ok, my "I can't believe I'm the only person that thinks of this stuff" rant for today. Say you're going into an establishment, and someone else is coming out, or vice versa. It can be any joint - a restaurant, place of business, brothel, adult video store, crack house, whatever. Now, if it's sucky weather out, doesn't it make sense to let the person IN from the bad weather first, before you go out? I wish I could patent things like this, because it seems most people can't figure this out.

Along those lines, when the elevator door opens, it's generally a good idea to let me OUT of the elevator before you come rushing in and run right into my chest. Just a thought balloon going out to you, small ol' lady in my building that is evidently in a big hurry.

I woke up early AGAIN today, and felt like hell when I did, for whatever reason. Stupid body clock. So, I spent the first 3 hours of the day foggier than Pam Anderson at a MENSA meeting. Not so good.

Seems that one of my cats (I haven't figured out which one yet) enjoys giving a little serenade at around 3 am every night. I've been woken up a number of times by this ... it's like s/he decides to try out all possible meows to practice up for when they are really necessary. High ones, low ones, raspy ones, trills, the whole gambit. Generally lasts for about 5 minutes. My annoyance lasts for about 30 minutes. Note to cat - it'd be a lot cuter if it was 3 PM.

Had an interesting discussion last night with a neighbor about some of the more crime-ridden neighborhoods in our fair city. I got a new term out of this. Apparently, and I'm not sure if ya'll know this or not, and I hope you're sitting down for this, but there are certain people known as "hard blacks" and "hard Mexicans" out there. I'm not sure how they relate to regular blacks and Mexicans (in my world, these folk are usually referred to as African Americans and Hispanics), but I'm assuming it has something to do with their consistency. I'm figuring it's something like "hard candy".

So, of course, I have ALL KINDS OF QUESTIONS about this. Do they get "hard" if they're put in the fridge for an hour, like Jell-O? If so, you can just solve the crime problem by unplugging everyone's fridge. If they're in the sun long enough, do they turn soft? If so, is it possible to melt them, then mix them together, freeze them, and end up with a "hard Blaxican"? That solves your race integration problems right there. So many questions.

A Home Depot story. I was there last night, and this older lady walked out and set off the alarm. Now, the alarm is supposed to alert people to when someone is stealing stuff, but 99 times out of 100, it just means the clerk screwed up. So, of course, being the introverted quiet boy I am, I immediately yelled "Hey, ma'am, quit stealin' stuff!" Then, I watched as she quickly turned a bright shade of fuchsia (for those of you wondering, yes, I had to look fuchsia up to spell it right). Good comedy, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell if I keep these actions up.

Tuna breath, bulk shoppin', Fresca Current
mood: speakin' drivel

So, it's lunchtime, and I'm eating tuna fish with a decent amount of onions in it. I guess I can cancel any afternoon hookups in the copy room, eh?

I went to Sam's Club last night. For those that don't live here (and it's disturbing enough that you don't live near ME), SC is one of those mega mart joints that sells stuff in bulk. It's a baffling ordeal - I think that's actually a line from The Simpsons. I always find myself exhausted when I get to the checkout, and I don't really buy that much. Any time you need a dolly instead of a shopping cart, you're probably buying too much stuff. I did get a good deal on a 4 pack of big screen TVs, though.

The other big news from last night was that I bought a gas grill, and a real cheap one, too. So, the first time I fire that baby up should be very interesting and probably a little unnerving. Picture me pushing the light button on this thing while cowering, and you get the idea. I even put it together myself, which is even more harrowing. The way I figure it, if something goes wrong, who really needs eyebrows anyway?

We have a number of stray cats in our neighborhood, which a few of us feed regularly (mainly to keep the rats away ... cats vs. rats = no brainer decision). Anyway, there are these three that are clearly related, and they are just the coolest. They pretty much travel everywhere together, and they each have their own little characteristics that make them unique (one likes to sit on the windowsill and stare at my cats which, needless to say, freaks them out and cracks me up). I've actually been watching them since they were kittens - they're probably around a year old now. Good stuff.

Did the "pop awake an hour early" thing this morning. I don't really get that. I go to bed at pretty much the same time during the week, and I get up at the same time. It's like every 4th day or so, my body decides that it needs an hour less sleep. What the frick? Look, body, the brain's in charge here. Obviously, we need a sit down talk or something.

I don't really get Fresca, just in a general sense. Did you know there's grapefruit juice in there? At least that's what I read on the Internet somewhere, and we all know things written on the Internet are always facts. It's not that I don't like the taste of Fresca - it's a'ight, and I'm sure it'd be a good mix for the good Cap'n - I'm just wondering how they managed to get grapefruit juice in there. Did someone spill grapefruit juice in their cup of Sprite or something? Weird.

As long as we're on sodas, how many friggin' variations of Coke and Pepsi are there? There's regular, diet, lime, vanilla, cherry, crack (ok, I made that one up) caffeine free versions of all of them ... I could go on for another hour. Then there's Fresca. Just plain, ol' Fresca. No caffeine free or sugar free there! You have your Fresca, and you just deal with whatever is in it. That takes courage. I think Fresca drinkers are the new Hell's Angels. Hmm ...

Crack Coke. I kinda like that idea. To the Batmobile!

Story time, and this one is kinda gross. A high school friend of mine was dating this dude, and they were at a party. Dude was pretty hammered, but he decides he's going to make out with her anyway. Well ... and here comes the nasty part ... he ended up hurling WHILE he was kissing her, and got some in her mouth. Lovely! The kicker ... she has to run through another room to get to the bathroom. As she passes through this room, there are a couple of people in there partying. She points to the ... uh ... stuff in and around her mouth while looking at them and mumbles "it's not mine!"

Classic.

Lesbians, Chinese food, Trainspotting
Current mood: sleepy with sprinkles on top

Eh, another weekend, shot to hell. Highlights:

Friday, went to my favorite area, Columbia (see previous rants), and ended up actually having a good time. 'Course, the 8 liquored up trauma nurses that I met at Sonoma's didn't hurt the situation, especially considering that the ratio was somewhere around 110% men to -10% women when I got there (ok, not that bad, but not good, either).

I also realized something new. When women dance with each other, they are WAY more suggestive than when they dance with men. I saw things on the dance floor on Friday that I haven't even seen on Skinemax. Hoo hah! Note to self ... do "observation" at the Hippo from this point on.

Another note - aren't hot lesbian women just the worst situation? I mean, it's like being on a diet, and having a giant chocolate cake just floating in front of you for hours. I guess you can do some fun visualization, but that's about it.

Saturday, I spent the night with 2 dogs and 3 wild cats. ;-) That's an inside joke for one of my readers.

Sunday, went down to the Cross Street Festival in Fed Hill, which was a blast ... until some yahoo spilled beer on me. Now, it's one thing to spill beer on someone. I mean, it was an accident, the guy was incredibly apologetic, no big deal, so whatever. Problem was, I was stone cold sober, and I had my best $4 Old Navy T shirt on. So, I had to leave right after that. I'm pretty much a high maintenance bitch on most days, if you didn't already know.

I was told this weekend that I look better in person than in my pictures, which I found intriguing. So I've got that going for me. I think. Heh. Note to self ... get better pictures. ;-)

I watched the movie Galaxy Quest yesterday, on a recommendation from someone. Good thing I don't talk to that person anymore, because that movie SUCKED. Cripes. If I had a time machine, I would've gone back two hours as soon as that thing was over.

I also saw one of my exes at the Festival, which was fine. We're on speaking terms now, although we weren't for a long time. Funny aside ... one time after we had broken up, I was out with someone else, and saw the ex walk by at a bar. Well, when I saw her, I immediately did the "wave to someone I knew" thing, which I wish I could've retracted immediately when I realized who it was. Isn't that the worst? Stupid automatic wave. Damn you!

I love Chinese food. I mean love, as in I would marry Chicken w/broccoli combo plate and a side of fried dumplings if I could. I wonder if that's possible. I also wonder who would sit on the bride's side, if that happened. The chef? Friends of the broccoli? Dumpling cousins? No, I'm not stoned right now.

I did get to watch part of the most amazing movie ever made - Trainspotting. That almost made up for the Galaxy Quest fiasco. There was a period in my life where I came home and watched that movie for about 2 months running. Hey, I was going through a weird time in my life. Sue me. Anyway, it's a friggin' brilliant movie. I've always said there are 2 major keys to a successful movie - a good script and casting. Well, Trainspotting nails both of those. I think I have a review on my website, so if you're interested, head there. I'm too lazy to re-post right now.

I have a hard time with Drew Barrymore. I mean, in a general sense, she should be hot, but I keep seeing the little girl from E.T. every time I look at her. She just doesn't do a thing for me. I'm sure she'd lose a lot of sleep over that information.