So, I'm on the bus a couple of days ago, and I was privy to one of the more interesting conversations I've heard in some time. There were these two older dudes on the bus ... they had to have been in their 60s at the earliest. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a snippet of their conversation, which was being done in very, very loud tones:

Dude 1: I don't like them there Lifestyle condoms. I ain't never been a fan of those 'tall.
Dude 2: Me neither. Them's too small or something. I always have trouble puttin' 'em on.
Dude 1: Yah, yah, I ain't got that sorta problem with Trojans.
Dude 2: You said a mouthful.

Considering the topic at hand, I found the last comment to be highly amusing, and I had to turn away from them to hide my glee. Always good to hear that even the senior citizens of our fine city are gettin' some.

Ok, I found this hilarious, and most of you probably won't get it, but whatever. I'll laugh when I read back over this to edit it. There's a cat on the SPCA site, he's this cute li'l thing, and his name is "Joe Torre". Yes, I do need help, because I just about fell out of my chair laughing when I saw it.

A quick bit of humor from the archives. In high school, we were cruising around one Friday night. We saw some girls, and my friend leaned out and yelled "Hey, baby ... I've got an average sized penis!" Needless to say, they didn't ask us to stop.

I have this weird thing where my nose seems to itch a lot at times. Dunno why, and it's not a constant thing, but every now and then, it happens. Couple that with my fear of getting a cliffhanger, and I always seem to be rubbing it. I'm starting to wonder if people think I have a coke habit or something. 'Course, I'm not sure I make enough money to support a good, solid coke habit. I could probably afford a good Pez habit.

Speaking of sugar, I found out last night that, among other things, the hot neighbor is a sugar fiend! I'm not exactly sure how this changes my property value ... might have to call my realtor. I mean, on one hand, having a sugar fiend next door could be beneficial ... you always know where to go if you need to borrow a cup of sugar, eh? Plus, seeing that she's hot, I would be sure to run out of sugar on a daily basis. But, on the other hand, the wild mood swings, the crashes, the constant trips to the dentist - could get a little tedious. Not unlike living next to Tigger.

Here's the latest "I don't remember you" story. I mentioned in the last blog that I had a convo in a bar with a girl who went to my gym. Well, at the end of that convo, she asked me for my phone number and put it in her cell. Well, last night, I saw her at the gym. Now, I didn't go up to her immediately, I just sorta cruised by a couple of times to see if she'd remember me. Nuttin'. So, finally, I walked up to her and just stared at her. Nuttin'. 'Twas pretty funny when I explained who I was, and watch her do the fake remember thing. Her response: "I wasn't sure if your name was Jack or Jeff". Eh, four letters, starts with J, close 'nuff.

I'm not expecting a call.

Bark bark bark
Bark bark bark
Bark bark bark bark bark

Sorry. I have the song in my head where the barking dogs bark out "Jingle Bells". Yeah, I know, I should seek help, but that might actually fix things, and it's more fun when you can confuse yourself on a daily basis.

Ok, the weekend. From what I remember, it involved losing my virginity twice, yet another BBQ, and dumb phone calls. Let's begin ...

Friday, headed over to Fed Hill to meet my peeps at Little Havana's. Lots of mistakes in Friday's game plan. F'rinstance:

Havana's was hopping. Beautiful night, some cool folks hanging there, not too crowded. So, since all of those things are totally unappealing for whatever reason, we decided to leave and go to Mother's. Yeah. Not the brightest of moves. I wish I could explain the thought process that goes along with these dumb decisions, but I can't. Someone gets an idea, and it seems like absolute brilliance when it's conveyed to the rest of us. Upon arrival at Mother's, I was a bit dismayed to realize that the guy/girl ratio was roughly 6,724 to 1. I'm estimating, but I think that's pretty close.

As if this isn't bad enough, one of our buddies gets totally sucked in by the Guinness girl, who asks him to take a survey in exchange for a free Guinness. The kicker is, the survey was 8 pages long. 8 friggin' pages! I had time to get drunk twice in the time it took for him to finish this thing.

We finally split the Men's Club meeting at Mother's, and headed to Nick's. Nick's wasn't bad, but I had the ants for Canton. So, I'm standing there scratching the ants (not a pretty visual, I understand), and this woman walks up and says hello, and asks if I remember her. I didn't. She starts describing when we met, what I was wearing, what time of day it was, which planets were aligned where, etc. Now, I have absolutely no idea who this person is, but there's that point when you have to actually pretend that you remember, or they're going to keep trying to jog your memory, ya know? We've all done that, right? Ok, well, I'm the only one then. Fine. So, I give her the "Oh yeah!", complete with fake enthusiasm, head nod and smile.

After a bit, she splits, and I go outside to look for a cab. I'm talking to the bouncer for a bit and this fancy BMW pulls up and it's the "I don't remember you" woman. She's going to Canton! Perfect.

Now, there are levels of boring. There's boring. There's watching the 700 Club. There's reading these blogs. There's listening to a lecture on the development of the cardboard box while staring at a picture of Rush Limbaugh. About 1/2 step below that is this woman. Wow. Quite possibly the longest ride to Canton ever. We arrive, go into Portside, she goes to the bathroom, and I run for the side door to escape.

At this point, I'm done for the night and ready to go home. But, wait! There's more idiocy! As I'm passing the local pizza joint, I figure I'll see if the hot neighbor wants to split a pie. I call her up on the phone, but she doesn't answer and I don't leave a message (she's a pretty smart cookie, not answering my calls and all that). Well, I'm clearly not smart enough to figure out that some people have the same name in this world, because I called the wrong one. Turns out, I called a friend's wife ... who has the same name ... at 1:00 am on a Friday night. Brilliant!

Saturday started out really well. I found out that if you throw an iPod mini as hard as you can at a wood floor, the iPod usually doesn't work too well after it stops bouncing. Time to buy a new iPod. Let's just move on.

Hit a BBQ put on by some friends that I used to work with in another life. I had one major revelation here - it's actually possible for some women to talk about shopping for several hours in a row. It actually drove me to drink ... like I need help with that.

Let's discuss car bombs for a moment. The shot, that is. Now, any shot that has the word "bomb" in it should be avoided at all costs, doncha think? I agree with that as well, yet it was MY IDEA to buy a round of car bombs at our first stop of the evening. Now, we've already established that I'm not so bright. For those that don't know, I don't drink beer. I quit in college, and I've only drank beer three times since then:

1. I was singing onstage with this band at the beach when some girl handed me a beer. Since I was singing in front of a crowd of people and the girl was hot, I felt obligated to drink it. Bleh.

2. *Sigh* ... this is a long story, but I'll just shorten it by saying that I drank beer out of a baby bottle (complete with nipple) while sitting on a woman's lap in the Bahamas. I think I'll just let your little imaginations run with that one.

3. The car bomb I did on Saturday.

The beauty of it is, I didn't know the shot involved beer. I ordered them, carried the li'l shot of Bailey's or whatever over to our group, and figured this was going to be a piece o'cake. They looked at me and asked where the rest of the shot was. The rest of what? Turned around, and there's the beer on the bar. Newman! So, I'm no longer a car bomb virgin ... although I don't really see myself doing one ever again. Double bleh.

I've seen some weird things in my life. I once saw a bearded lady at the carnival. I once saw a cheap friend of mine buy a round. And now, I can say that I've seen karaoke. I can also safely say that I never need to see karaoke again. And, yes, I was sorta drunk when I saw it, and it didn't help. I did have this interesting exchange with a woman from my gym, though:

Me: Hey, you go to my gym.
She: I do? YOUR gym?
Me: Yeah, that's my gym. You're just renting it.
She: How much is your membership?
Me: $59/month
She: Really? Mine is $80/month!
Me: Um ... ok ... then I guess it's YOUR gym.

This was followed by a lot of snickering about how much she's paying ... like I'm getting a bargain or something at my price. Cripes.

[An aside ... this is the second time in a week that a woman that I see at the gym hasn't recognized me. I figure if it happens another 40 or 50 times, maybe it's a sign of some sort? That, or I can just start wearing tight pink biking shorts to the gym. I bet they'll remember that!]

BTW, I might have to start breaking these blogs up by night ... this noise is getting long, and there's a holiday weekend coming up!

At our next stop, we noticed the bouncer was wearing gloves. I asked him why, and he explained that guys go to the bathroom and don't wash their hands, and then they always want to shake the bouncer's hand when they leave. Personally, I'm not really in the habit of shaking the hand of the bouncer when I leave, but I didn't pursue that line of questioning. So, we bounced out of there and hit another bar down the street. Again, a bouncer wearing gloves. I ask him the same question, and I get the EXACT SAME ANSWER, right down to the exact same words. I was so fascinated by the similarity of answers that I shook the bouncer's hand, then realized what I had just done. Ew, indeed.

Sunday ... recovery. I also found out that I "look cute" when I'm sleeping. I'm not sure if I can use that on a resume.

One final note ... is there anything cooler than hearing a favorite new song on the radio? I was cruising back to the city on Saturday, windows down, and "Low" by Coldplay was on HFS. Woot!

A'ight, it's music time. This is what I woke up to this morning. Ya'll can hum along if you wish. [Clears throat]. Ok, here we go:

Ba da da da bum bum bum bump
Ba da da da bump bum bum bum
Ba dat dat dada dat dada da data dat dada da
Dat da dat da DA!

Ok, I'm assuming after that rendition that ya'll know the song. Wha? You don't? Buncha tone deaf goofballs. Ok, that's ... drum roll ... the Dating Game theme song! Yup, that's what was in my head when the alarm went off this morning. Scary, eh? Don't forget to give the big KISS at the end!

Previously, I've discussed getting caught singing in the car. Usually, it's something dorky like "Space Age Love Song" by A Flock of Seagulls or something like that. Well, this morning, I'm walking to work, and this dude is cranking to some Spanish song, and he's singing it in Spanish. Not sure why, but that really gave me a snort.

As you can tell, I think that's bananas. That's spelled B-A-N-A-N-A-S. And I ain't no holla back girl, either.

Along those lines, is there anything funnier than trying to sing La Bamba? I mean, let's face it, about 1/10th of us actually know what they're saying in Spanish ... the rest of us just bumble along and try to come close.

Took a spin class last night, and the instructor was a tad annoying. At one point, there's a Green Day song on, with the line "my eyes feel like they're gonna bleed", and her response was "not us! We're not that bad!" ... um ... yeah. At another point, we're on level 10 - the tension goes from 1 to 10 - and we get the instruction to turn it up! Yeah! Um, I didn't take a stats class, but isn't 10 + anything > 10? Maybe spin class isn't the best place for math lessons.

Talked about all things non-essential in the backyard with the hot neighbor last night (since she doesn't talk about essential things). 'Twas quite romantic - the spotlight from the police helicopter glancing off the trash cans in the alley, the stray cats in heat yowling, the weeds in the sidewalk cracks blowing in the wind. It was true romance.

Yesterday, I think I heard the first quadruple negative in spoken English language history. Here was the quote: "He ain't got no sense, nohow, ain't that right?" ... I think my high school English teacher would probably just keel over with a heart attack from that one. Anyone want to dissect that sentence?

Great. Now I have that stupid Gwen Stefani song in my head. That's deep stuff, man.

So, I tried a cat experiment last night. It seems that every time I pet either of them, an entire fur coat of hair comes off. So, last night, Batman jumped up on the couch, and I just poked him with my finger in the side. Sure enough, a whole furball flew off. I think they're doing it on purpose.

I bought some tofu sausage last night, and tried it this morning. Yeah, I know what you're saying ... tofu sausage? ... but I've told you before that I enjoy playing experiments on my body. I've even left out most of the chemical ones.

Well, the stomach wasn't pleased. I think the exact quote from the stomach was "Stomach no like tofu sausage!" ... yeah, the stomach isn't so hot with the English language, either. It's in a close race with the brain for My Dumbest Organ. So, the stomach has spoken ... which means I'm going to try it again tomorrow morning, just to f*** with the stomach. How you like me now, stomach!? That's what I'll be saying tomorrow morning. Taunting the stomach is always in good fun.

Does Gwen Stefani go to the produce section, point to the bananas, and say "That's bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!"? These are the questions I'd like answered.

Man. A couple more weekends like that, and I'm going to have to pull a Paris Hilton and retire. I've also noticed that the comments here are a whole lot funnier than what I'm writing! Keep up the good work!

So, where to begin. How about Friday? The cute neighbor was having a housewarming party, so I went and got the finest bottle of champagne and headed over. Ok, ok, it was a $20 bottle that had a cool label. I'm so cultured, doncha know. I also got her a bottle of Cap'n as a joke ... in case I ever run out. Some people borrow a cup of sugar, I borrow what's important.

Good party. She had enough food to feed an entire army ... or Rosie O'Donnell on a bender. Take your pick. She also got to meet one of our neighbors who ... mmm ... well, to use a line from Fat Albert, he's like a teacher on summer vacation. We'll see if you can figure that one out.

I putzed around there for a bit, then headed down to Canton Square, which couldn't have been more boring ... until right before I left when I saw the hot girl from the gym that I've mentioned previously. Unfortunately, she was leaving, so I decided this was the perfect time to profess my undying admiration for her ... in an alley. Hey, I'm an old-fashioned romantic, what can I say? So, here's the convo (note ... this is written in regular English. You'll have to use your imagination to get the full drunken effect):

Me: Hey, you're Shelly right? I know you from the gym, my name is Jack. Do you know who I am?
She: Um, no.
Me: [flabbergasted that she couldn't know me and not sure what to say] ... uh ... uh ... well, I think you're really attractive. Are you headed home?
She: Um, yes.
Me: Well, do you need an escort home? You shouldn't be walking alone at night (it's always good to mention safety when you're somewhat tipsy and fumbling for things to say, especially in an alley)
She: Um, no. I live right over there.
Me: Ok, well, I'll see you at the gym.
She: Um, sure.

So, we've got our first conversation out of the way. I figure at this rate, we'll be dating any second now. I'm just going to sit at home by the phone and wait for her call.

After that, I headed back to the block, and the housewarming party was still going on. Bonus! To protect the innocent, the rest of the night will be censored. Let's just say that I've broken one of the rules I've mentioned in previous blogs, and the neighborhood just got a little friendlier.

On to Saturday! Now, I don't know how many of you know what gout is. Frankly, I thought it was made up, like Bigfoot or Paris Hilton's brain, but it's a real disease! My buddy Mark is afflicted with it, and I guess it can come about when you do certain things - eat too much salty food, drink too much alcohol -you know, actual fun stuff. So, each year, he has a big party called Goutfest, which involves the entire list of things he's not supposed to do, with a couple more tossed in just to really liven things up. One of the things on MY list for the party apparently involved making out in the back seat of a car, but I wouldn't know anything about that.

Here are a few of the people I saw at Goutfest: The Stallion, Chunky, The Chop, and The Mice. Yup, them's some of my friends. And you wonder why I'm like I am?

Split out of there in the early evening and headed back to Baltimore to hit another party, which was being disguised as a Flip Cup tournament. If you've never played flip cup, it ain't rocket science, and the name pretty much says it all. 'Course, by the time I got there (the party started at 3), everyone's cups had already been flipped a number of times. I'm pretty sure one of my friends never saw me, even though I was sitting right next to him for about an hour.

I also ran into the beautiful Miss Andrea at this party, which might be a story for another time ... if she ever wises up, dumps her boyfriend, and starts talking to me. Heh. Seems to be a trend.

'Course, the evening wouldn't be complete without me doing something really stupid ... you know, like driving to DC without my wallet and with very little juice on my cell when the gas tank on my car is riding on empty. It's always interesting when you hand the gas station attendant $2.15 in dimes and nickels at 1:00 in the morning, too. Who says you need to join the Army to have an adventure? The rest of this evening is also confidential to protect the innocent ... or the not-so-innocent, however you want to look at it.

Sunday was supposed to be the quiet day. You know, the Sabbath, the day of rest, all that good stuff. Everything was going really well at the O's game - then, I met my friends at the Fed Hill Blues Festival. One friend was going to get drinks, and I asked for an ice water. Sticking to my not drinking on Sunday guns, doncha know. I'm talking to someone, when another buddy leans over and says "hey, your ice water looks a little dark". Next thing I know, I'm looking at a lime floating around with my Cap'n buddy. Cripes.

I also found out that I'm not allowed to talk to any women that my buddies are interested in anymore. This may sound kind of odd, but it's actually a bonus in disguise, since one of these women is a bartender where we normally go. Hey, if I can't talk to her, I can't order drinks! Ha! Looks like I'm drinkin' for free as long as this rule is in effect!

So, to recap:

Always be careful when petting neighbors
Dark water usually isn't water, especially if there's a lime in it
Always hit on women that you like in alleys - they love that
Be sure to carry plenty of nickels and dimes in your vehicle for special occassions
Look out for the gout

I think that's it. I need a nap now.

Stupid horoscope, ice luge, the female Village People
Current mood: dripping dry

Yeah! Here's comes the weekend, people. Strap on your seatbelts, and let's go.

My horoscope told me to take it easy this weekend. After I finished laughing so hard that I almost threw up, I decided that my horoscope is clearly an idiot and doesn't know me too well. Stupid horoscope. Although, if it was telling me to play the lottery, or to accept Angelina Jolie's advances (she's pretty aggressive, but I have my standards), I might have to listen to it.

So, I'm out at this joint called Nick's last night with some friends, and they had a couple of new ladies with them. One of them mentions that they just graduated college last month. 'Course, my first reaction was ... grad school? I hope? Nope. It was funny to watch them recoil in shock when I told them my age. Heh. I guess I look a bit younger than I am. I then proceeded to lecture them about drinking and told them to go clean up their room.

I was talking to a female friend of mine, and she's been trying to figure out how to tell her current boyfriend that she's interested in a threesome. My idea was to take out a full page ad in the paper as well as shouting it from his rooftop, because his friends are going to be high fivin' him for weeks. Seriously, ladies, if you're into a threesome, it's pretty rare that you're going to get resistance from a guy, unless the threesome is with Rush Limbaugh or something. Just a tip.

Going to a party tomorrow, and they're going to have one of those ice luge shot things. You know, that thing where you put your mouth at the bottom of the big ice slide, and they pour the shot at the top, it slides down, and it's all chilly and cold. Oh, and you've also put your mouth where every single other person before you has put theirs, so you've basically made out with everyone at the party. Yeah, these are the things I think about.

The party after that is a flip cup tournament. Now, I don't drink beer, and I've never played flip cup. Think there's any chance I'll be standing after 10 minutes of this? I once played beer pong, except I did shots instead of drinking a beer, and I think I ended up making out with a stuffed animal by the end of the night. Now, there's a nice wakeup. I mean, there's waking up next to someone who's not exactly your type, and then there's waking up next to Miss Piggy ... literally.

So, I checked out some pics of this Pussycat Dolls band. It's basically a female version of the Village People. Six chicks, each has their own style and look. Oh, and yes, I do wish my girlfriend was hot like a couple of them. Anyway. Now, my question is, couldn't they have done the same music with just 3 chicks? I mean, hey, that's double the income for those girls. Maybe I should just stop thinking.

Took a spin class the other night, and the instructor was one of those people that likes to sing the words to the songs. Problem is, she was singing the wrong words. I almost laughed myself right off the bike. If I'm singing into a mike in front of a group of people, I guarantee you I'll know the words, or I'll just do the Elvis mumble thing.

A'ight, I'm out ... have a great weekend, all!

Pussycat Dolls, chipotle, Wal Mart
Current mood: driving Miss Daisy crazy

Doncha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Yup, that's what is stuck in my head right now. It ain't good to be me. Funny thing is, Mr. Levi asked me earlier today if I had heard of that band, and I said no. Have I mentioned that I'm a genius? I just misspelled genius twice, I'm so smart. Thank you, backspace key.

Today, I've listened to Coldplay, Beck, the Killers, and I've even listened to someone sing really poorly in the hallway, and I'm stuck with the hot girlfriend song in my head. Not only that, but how disturbing is it to hear a guy sing those lyrics?

Me: Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?Thee: Wha? Um, you're a dude, dumbass. If my girlfriend was hot like you, I'd have to shoot myself.Me: I'm a dude? Oh, yah, that's right, I am. Sorry.

So, I guess I should answer that question. Seeing as how I don't have a girlfriend, I guess my answer is maybe? Not having seen the Pussycat Dolls (I think that's the name of the band), I'm not sure I can answer that anyway. We all know about the C&C Music Factory scam, where they had a video of all these hot folks singin', and it turned out to be a couple of aunts and uncles from Diff'rent Strokes who were the real band. Or, at least that's what they looked like.
Is it just me, or is chipotle the newest craze in food? I mean, I could market a leather shoe covered with chipotle, and people would eat it. Chipotle sole! I'm also never sure what's the correct pronunciation for that word, so I just play dumb ... which isn't hard.

Anyone else watch Soul Train just for the dancing women? I'm the only one? Ok, I was just checking.

I lowered my IQ about 10 points yesterday. How, you ask? Actually, you probably asked how it could go 10 points lower, but whatever. I went to ... wait for it ... Wal Mart! I walked out of there, and I swear I couldn't remember how to tie my own shoes. I'm not sure the low, low prices are worth it. It wasn't even a Super Wal Mart. I guess at the Super, you just get lobotomized when you walk in the door, just to save time.

Some people I know were having beer Olympics the other day. I've also heard of this new craze called Flip Cup. Just out of curiosity, doesn't anyone just drink anymore? I guess I shouldn't complain since, for a good 7 year period of my life, it was my life's work to be good at bouncing a quarter into a shot glass.

Along those lines, the absolutely best Thumper sign I ever saw was when this guy's sign was grabbing his chest with both hands. Now, none of us thought much of it until the game started, and the women had to do it. Well done, amigo!

So, in closing, don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

Muffin love, hamster porn, housewarming party
Current mood: politely rude

I'm in love with muffins. Now, I understand that they're cute and furry ... mmm, well, not furry, that wouldn't be good ... but they're an adorable li'l snack. You know, the poofy top, the spongy stump, what's not to like? Problem is, they're essentially cake in a cuter package. So, I'd really like to fall out of love with muffins since, as we all know, cake is bad for ya (except for the band Cake, but that's another story). If anyone has any ideas, let me know. Maybe someone can set me up with celery or lettuce, or I can work a blind date with tofu.

So, the new Coldplay CD is my newest obsession (well, next to Pez, of course). Some really good stuff on there, and it's that typical Coldplay sorta thing - crescendos, neat li'l piano licks, Chris wailing away on the vocals. I've concluded that they're the U2 from The Unforgettable Fire - sorta mellow, almost pretentious, big productions. Not really a bad thing, but if they turn into today's U2, we're gonna have a problem.

Got on the elevator yesterday, and this dude had the same tie on that I was wearing. I immediately jumped off, ran home, and changed my tie. Yup, I'm a high maintenance bitch.

So, my hot li'l neighbor left me a note yesterday. In it, she mentions that she's having a housewarming party, and that she also has a package for me (on our block, our UPS dude will leave packages with neighbors if we aren't home). Now, I'm sweating. I mean, what if the package is my case of KY jelly, or the stack of Hamster Porn magazines that I ordered? Can't see that helping my chances.

I'm not really sure what my fixation is with hamsters, either. Maybe I should mention that to my therapist. Mmm, maybe I should GET a therapist, then mention it to him/her.

I've also got to figure out what to get the neighbor for a housewarming gift, when I've never seen the inside of her house. I figured a bottle of Jack Daniels and a case of smokes probably wouldn't work. Since it's a party, if I showed up with those things, I'd probably be a big hit. Problem is, you never know what kind of party a housewarming party is going to be. It could be a bunch of people standing around, watching their kids spill stuff everywhere, or talking about Nanny 911. I guess I'll go with the old standby - wine. I pick wine out by how cool the label looks, so this should be interesting.

Paris Hilton is retiring from partying. I didn't realize you actually had to announce that. I'll be sure to alert the proper media outlets when I'm ready to do the same. I wouldn't be expecting an announcement anytime soon.
So, it's incredibly hot in my house upstairs, except in the bedroom, where I have an A/C unit that's actually working. Now, you'd think the cats would be hanging in the bedroom, but nooooo. They prefer to flatten themselves out as much as possible on the floor in the swelter area. I think they do it on purpose, so that there'll be more tumbleweed furballs floating around the house for me to try to track down. Damn tumbleweeds. Furballweeds?

Why is it that every time I order clothes online, there's always one piece of clothing that I don't like, and have to return. It's almost like they do it to you on purpose. I'm working on that conspiracy theory right now.

Cafe love, walkabout, Praise the Lord!
Current mood: sleepin' it off, awake-style

Oof. Still sorta in recovery from that weekend. Well, let's see, where to start.

On Friday, here are the establishments I visited ... these are pretty much in order, too ... [deep breath ... wait a sec, I'm typing this ... no need for a deep breath] ... Max's, Hightops (ok, it's called something new, but I can't remember the name), Red Fish, Kiss Cafe, Bay Cafe, Rick's Cafe (I guess I have a thing for Cafes), Mama's, Claddaugh's, Colburn's, Portside, Cosmopolitan's and Colburn's again. I think that was it. I think. Oh, then the pizza pretzel joint. In the middle of that, I walked two women home to make sure they got there safely. 'Course, if they were walking with me, that's probably not all that safe in the first place. Heh.

Saturday, I tried to knock it down to a half dozen, but it didn't work out very well. Pickle's, Nick's, Thirsty Dog, Mad River, Ropewalk, Magerk's, Mother's. So, let's see ... that's a total of 19 places in two nights ... figure at least one drink in each at $5 and ... HOLY COW! No wonder I don't have any money. Luckily, I was pretty much drinking my dinner, so I didn't spend any on food.

There is one unfortunate highlight, which is kinda comical in a way. I have a friend who has lost a lot of weight, probably around 40 pounds or so, if not more. He has this friend, Pam, who is hecka hecka hecka hot. Well, we haven't seen Pam in a long time, probably about a year, and my buddy was excited about her seeing the new, slimmed down version of himself.

So, I decided to meet them about an hour after they met up, to give him time to work the mojo, doncha know. So, I get there, she's looking great as always, except for one big difference ... there's a huge-assed engagement ring on her hand. Heh. The po' guy. The funny thing is, Pam's probably the last person on Earth (well, next to me, I guess) that anyone thought would get engaged. I felt so bad for him that I bought him essentially a six pack at Thirsty Dog to drown his sorrows. Then, I went on walkabout.

Now, if you don't know what walkabout is, it's what I do when I'm out on the weekends. I tend to like to change bars frequently, which drives my friends a little batty. So, I usually have to do it solo ... hence, "going on walkabout". It's a lot funnier if you've seen Crocodile Dundee.

So, I finally returned home yesterday at about 1:00, and it was sleep time, big time. I basically slept through two episodes of Blind Date, part of a baseball game, the second half of the Longest Yard (the good version), most of a basketball game, a Skinemax movie I had TIVO'd (in fast forward, obviously), The Simpsons, Family Guy, and most of my dinner. Rumor is it was a beautiful day outside, too. Sure did look like it from the couch.

So, we were at lunch yesterday at this Italian place near my friend's house. As we're eating, a group of folks come in and sit down right next to us. Turns out, they just came from church, and at least one of them was a pastor/minister/religious dude. He even had some sort of hymn as his cellphone ringer ... Amazing Grace, or something like that which is pretty much hilarious in and of itself.

'Course, I immediately start making jokes under my breath to my fellow diner about how we'll probably burst into flames due to our close proximity to the saved ones combined with the debauchery we've gotten ourselves into in the past 12+ hours or so. I think my shirt might be a little singed just from sitting so close to them.

The new Coldplay CD is fabulous, as is their new video. Just sayin'.

Cat mopping, geographical stereotypes, infomercials
Current mood: slowly speeding

A'ight, it's Friday. Strap on your seatbelts, and let's go!

Cat tip of the day ... any time you mop the kitchen floor, it's suddenly time for the entire cat population in the household to have a meeting in the kitchen. Oh, and if you pick up their food and put it on the counter for easier moppin', that's a complete fiasco. The reaction is akin to not feeding them for 17 weeks.

I just got an email from a friend who's in Alaska. Now, I've never been there. Dunno about you, but I have visions of places I've never been that are incredibly stereotypical. F'rinstance:

- Italy ... I assume all people in Italy are chubby, jolly, and are running around with plates of pasta and meatballs. All the men have cheesy mustaches, and wear those big puffy hats that chef's wear.
- Alaska ... a penguin on every corner, and polar bears galore. Oh, and snow everywhere. And everyone eats Klondike bars. No idea why.
- Russia ... lots of grumpy people drinking vodka and eating potatoes.
- Seattle ... everyone's drinking coffee in the rain, listening to grunge rock, and no one over the age of 30 is allowed in the city.
- Los Angeles ... you can't see very well, because you keep getting poked in the eye by boob implants.
- Asia ... billions and billions and billions and billions of people riding around on bikes and eating raw fish. Did I mention the billions of people?
- Australia ... a vast wasteland of dust, with koala bears and kangaroos everywhere
- Poland ... a whole bunch of people trying to screw in one lightbulb
- Wisconsin ... everything is made of cheese, even the houses
- Sweden ... everyone's skiing and all the women look like ice sculptures
- Iceland ... have you ever seen Superman's home? That's Iceland
- Kentucky ... a bunch of hillbillies without shoes, sitting on their front porch, drinkin' moonshine and pickin' and grinnin' ... wait, that's actually true ;-)
- Intercourse, Pennsylvania ... um ...

In other words, I'm pretty much an uncultured dope. Not that that's new information to anyone.

So, here's a weird thing. What's the protocol for passing someone on the sidewalk? I don't mean passing them going in opposite directions, but when someone is walking slower than you are and is in front of you? Do you give them a wave as you go by? Pat 'em on the can? Tell them to speed it up from behind?

I got stuck behind two slow women yesterday, and it took about a block to find a passing lane area. So, for an entire block, I had to walk really slowly, and pretend like I wasn't a stalker. Wait, I'm not a stalker. Anyway.

Is there a more underrated band from the 80s than Simple Minds? They had one of the biggest songs of the 80s, a couple of really solid albums, a ton of big hits, and a cool lead singer. What's not to like? Here's the opening lines from one of their better songs:

Summer's gone, winter's in your eyes
I can feel the thunderstorms inside

Good stuff.

On Wednesday morning, I woke up at 3 am for no apparent reason, and couldn't get back to sleep. Now, when you wake up at this time of the night/day, there is absolutely nothing to do. Nothing. Basically, you can watch infomercials or stare at the ceiling. So, here are the infomercials I saw:

- the Ab Lounge. Now, I enjoy watching these workout infomercials for the chicks, so I don't really know what the Ab Lounge is about. I'm guessing it's a place to take a date for drinks.
- the Bowflex one with the 50 year old lady with the great bod. Hmm ... um, see above. I think it has something to do with bows. Or flexes.

Actually, those were the only two I watched before I started surfing the Internet.

Along with that, cat reaction is always hilarious when I get up that early. They give me a look like "uh, what the hell are YOU doing up?", then they start panicking. You know, running around, putting the remote controls back, turning off all the lights, closing the fridge, returning my car keys.

Ok, I'm off to the weekend! Yahoo!

Homeless lotto, asparagus pee, hamsters
Current mood: woofy

Is there anything more disturbing than getting on an elevator, and having it do something really strange right after you board? I got on one this morning, and it zipped up to the 4th floor, stopped, and then started up to the 6th floor. Yummers. Nothing like that to wake you up in the morning. S'ok ... I figure in case of an elevator accident, I'll just defy the laws of physics and jump right before it lands. Should save me.

I've started giving lottery tickets to homeless people. How's that for weird? They always look at me like there's some sort of catch, too, although the last guy smiled, gave me the gun-finger point, and said "scratch off". I'm not sure if that was a request or a comment, so I just kept walking.

I just gave blood, and found out after it that I can't work out for 12 hours. So, of course, I'm going to the gym right after work. I mean, how could I resist an opportunity like this? I could pass out right in front of all of my fellow gymsters! Maybe the smiling hot girl will give me mouth to mouth. Hmm ... maybe some big burly guy will instead. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.

I've got a new tune. It's called "Cat Hurl on the Rug". I haven't written the whole song yet, but I've got the chorus. It goes like this ... "Cat Hurl on the Rug, there's Cat Hurl on the Rug". It's got kind of a rock and roll backing to it. Maybe some backup singers involved. I got to sing my new song this morning when there was ... yup, you guessed it ... cat hurl on the rug. I think it's time to switch back to the hairball control food.

The lady at Safeway charged me $80.01 for green beans last night. Strangely enough, they were regular ol' green beans, not made of gold or anything. And I thought gas was expensive. You know, I went home, had them for dinner, and I have to be honest ... they tasted like $2.01 green beans. Strange, huh? Ok, ok, she corrected the mistake before I paid, but it was quite interesting at the time.

Did you know that asparagus makes urine smell really, really bad? Just a tip for ya, in case you were wondering.
We had a big assed storm last night, which was cool as hell ... until it knocked out the TV. Now, is there any odder reaction than when the TV goes out? I just sat there, staring at it blankly, for about 5 minutes. I mean, we all know that if it comes back on, I'm gonna go running back like some Pavlovian idiot, so there's no reason to go do something else. Fortunately, it did come on, or I would've had to do something productive like read or figure out a cure for cancer. Whew.

Man, I really have to pee. You'd think I'd stop holding it like this. One of these days, when I'm on the donor list for a kidney replacement, somebody remind me of my stupidity.

Ok, here's a mini rant for today. What's the stupidest pet? Snakes? No. Spiders. No. Both dumb, but the winner in my book is the friggin' HAMSTER! Yeah. I know what you're saying/thinking ... they're soooo cute. It's true, they are cute. I mean, I like pretty much anything with fur ... and you can run with that comment all you want. But, all hamsters ever try to do is get away. That's it. Put 'em on the floor, they try to run away. Put 'em on your leg, they run. Hell, even when you put them in the clear ball prison to watch them roll around and bump into things, they still try to get away, they just do it in a more circular fashion.

When I was in high school, we had a hamster, and this squirt was the friggin' Houdini of hamsters. He must've figured out every possible way to get out of his cage. One time, he ran up into the little rooftop deck area he had (which was basically just a tube up to a little square box), and he put his teeth in the air holes and got it open. So, I put tape on the thing, and he went up there and pushed on it with his back until it popped off. Needless to say, the li'l dork lost his rooftop deck after that.

A few weeks later, yup, you guessed it, he got away and we couldn't find him for some time. Usually he got about halfway down the hall before he was re-captured. I always wondered what he was thinking in those few seconds of freedom ... I'm free! I'm gonna go get me all the friggin' peanuts I can eat, and a couple of hamster chicks, and maybe some hamster shots at the hamster bar. Etc.

Anyway, about a month later, I was moving some tires around in our storage room, and there he was. It was pretty comical ... he had this Mount Everest sized pile of peanuts built up right in the middle of the tire area. I guess in Hamster World, peanuts are gold and tires are the Bahamas. I almost felt bad about taking him back to his cage. I mean, if I was sitting on a pile of gold in the Bahamas, I wouldn't want to move. But, hey, I think I paid all of about $1.28 for him, so I didn't want my money to go to waste.

They're also nocturnal animals, so the entire time you're asleep, they're rooting around in their cages ... sing along with me ... trying to get away! I guess I shouldn't say asleep, since mine usually kept me up at night, so much so that I would lob pillows at his cage to get him to quiet down. Any time there was a bump on the cage, he'd chill for about 5 minutes, then go back to trying to break out. Yeah, as I said ... bad, bad pet.

I can't believe I just wrote four paragraphs on a hamster. That should be worth an award right there ... for least important blog of the century. Hey, you want some fluff? Step right up! I'm servin'!

Monday, June 06, 2005
Mr. Pink, South Beach in Baltimore, pork chops
Current mood: freezing hot

Well, that was interesting. Wasn't it Friday night about 10 minutes ago? What just happened?

Well, let's see. Friday sucked. Turns out I had a sinus infection, so I got to stay home and sleep while everyone went out and had fun. That's always annoying ... sitting there wondering what everyone else is doing, and knowing you can't go find out. So, I slept for about 29 hours, and watched some really, really bad TV. Any TV show that involves one of the Go Gos is a problem.

I did manage to see Reservoir Dogs twice that night, though. So, of course, I spent the rest of the weekend asking everyone I saw why I gotta be Mr. Pink. Very, very few understood what I was saying, and most just backed away slowly. Seems to be a reaction that I get fairly often.

But, made up for it all on Saturday. Basically, I had an entire weekend in one night. We started early at Gecko's, then hit another 7-8 bars, including seeing Ed and Frank at The Horse, and I managed to end up at Sabatino's at 3 am. Needless to say, there wasn't a lot of sleeping that night. Sleep is overrated anyway, especially on the weekends. Too much to do, and you can do it to all hours of the morning. Yahoo!

Last night, I had a lovely nightmare, and I woke up all clammy and heart poundy. The only time I wish I didn't live alone is when this happens, cuz it is freeeeeaky. 'Course, having cats, they're always a big help in these situations. I think they can realize when you're having a bad dream, and they purposely do something to make a strange noise right after you wake up. I think one of them was dragging a body down into the basement to bury it when I woke up. At least, that's what it sounded like. Doggone furballs.

They opened a nightclub at my gym. You read that right. So, now, when I go to the gym on Sundays, I get to see beer bottles and cigarette butts in the parking lot. Not only that, but it's one of those pretentious sorta places, too. You know the deal - dress code, expensive drinks, VIP lounges. I love those places. Mmm, wait a second - I can't stand those places. Yeah, that's better.

Supposed to be the feel of South Beach, yet here in Baltimore. Sorta like having an opera in a barn. I'm just hoping that if they're bring the feel of South Beach to Baltimore that they don't forget the topless beaches.
How come I have the munchies on a Monday? Hmm.

So, what's the first thing you think of when you hear the words "pork chops"? Well, if you're me, you think of Peter Brady ... "pork chops and applesauce". Yup, this is my brain, and I have to live with it.

Crumpy, Drober, reindeer ass
Current mood: illin'

TGIF. Unfortunately, I think those "allergies" I had the other day have turned into a cold, so I'm currently crumpy. Yes, you in the front row with your hand up? Oh, crumpy? That's a combo of cranky and grumpy. It was originally invented for a female friend of mine, who would gets cramps, then get grumpy. Since I don't get cramps ... well, you do the math.

Speaking of combos, I thought of another one. Ever had one of those nights when you had a lot to drink, and you woke up the next day and were still kinda drunk? One of those sober yet drunk things. Well, my term for that is drober. 'Course, if you get pulled over by a cop, and you're still drunk, a better combo of those two words would be sunk. Either way, not the best of situations.

So, as part of trying to get rid of this cold, I'm drinking something called Odwalla Wellness Echinacea fruit juice drink. It tastes like reindeer ass, and I mean literally. Well, having never tasted reindeer ass, I guess I'm just guessing here. So, if you've tasted reindeer ass, maybe you can try some of this stuff and tell me if it's the same. Flavor, that is. I don't really care to get into the texture. Um, let's move on ...

I managed to catch part of this one hit wonder show or whatever they're calling the latest crap on Fox these days. You know, buncha old has-been groups get together and try to sing their old crappy tunes. The funny thing is, the host called the songs "great" music. Um, Tiffany? Loverboy? Great music? That one got me laughing pretty hard. Yeah, "Lovin' Every Minute Of It" ... that's a classic!

So, I watched this show for all of about 3.8 minutes TIVO time. The lead singer for Loverboy rolled out ... and I do literally mean rolled out ... he looked like he had eaten the Michelin man backstage. So, he starts singin', and I notice that he has the same sunglasses on that he wore back in the 80s. In fact, he might've had the exact same outfit on, except for letting everything out 12 inches or so. Hmm ... maybe 16 inches. Ok, 20.

Once A Flock of Seagulls hit the stage, I was finished with that noise. The kicker? Next week ... Vanillla Ice! Like I NEED a reason to come back next week! I'm pretty sure I can find something that's more entertaining next week at that time. Like counting my fingers backwards.

So, I sent someone an email the other day from my Hotmail account to theirs, and Hotmail filtered it into their junk folder. How funny is that? Um, we're Hotmail, and we know that anything coming from one of our accounts is garbage! Thanks for playing!

Sorry, a little short today on the blog ... that's what happens when you spend the majority of your week sleepin' one off ...

Gang attack, limes, body games
Current mood: pretentiously humble

So, I'm dealing with allergies today - stuffy nose, headache. I've never had a problem before but apparently, you can develop them as you get older. Too bad I can't develop something useful as I get older. You know, the ability to pee money, the ability to grow hair where I actually want it, the ability to understand what the hell Rosie Perez is saying when she talks.

I was attacked by a gang when I left the grocery store the other day. They all had their colors on, and had a number of weapons of mass destruction with them. I managed to escape pretty much unharmed, which was a relief. Friggin' Girl Scouts.

Someone mentioned this to me the other day, and it's a personal pet peeve - people that bring cells phones to the gym. Now, I realize the gym is a place for a lot of insecure people. That's not exactly advanced psychology. But, unless you're a doctor or have some emergency reason to have a cell phone on you at all times, leave it at home! When everyone and their mother has a cell phone (and I mean that literally), it's no longer a status thing. Cripes.
Coke with lime. Is there some reason it took those people this long to figure out a lime is good in there? We've been putting it in drinks for years!

Along those lines, this will give you an idea of how odd my buddy Ricky and I are. We were at a Ravens tailgate one Sunday after a weekend of heavy drinking. As we were standing around in the sun holding our drinks, we began an in depth discussion of how much fun it would be to be the lime that was in our drinks. I mean, you're a lime, you're swimming in Cap'n and some ice, the sun is on you, and there's no real threat of getting eaten. At worst, you get squeezed a tad, which could be a good thing if it's a hot chick doing the squeezin'. For some reason, eveyone looked at us kinda funny and slowly backed away.

He's also the dude that invented the term "shampoo buzz", which is probably the smartest term anyone has ever invented. Here's the gist - let's say you got really waffled the night before. Now, it's the next day, and you're on your first drink or so, and you start to get buzzed really quickly. That's a shampoo buzz. The idea is when you wash your hair, rinse, then wash it a second time, you only need a little tiny bit of shampoo to get a lot of lather. Yup, he's a good friend of mine. Explains a lot, doesn't it?

I like playing games with my body. No, not those kind of games, silly, although they can be fun! I'm talking about eating a couple of bowls of bran cereal along with a lot of cheese, and see what wins.

So, if you're a "hold the door for a woman" type of guy, what do you do with the automatic doors? Do you jump in front of it so that it opens, then step aside? How about revolving doors? Do you push from behind or in front?

Revolving doors are always fun. By show of hands, how many of you have either tried to (a) push the thing faster or (b) slow the thing up? The first can be a little dangerous, so I always go for (b), then act like it was the person behind me. Then, there's the fun of trapping a friend in there if they go in first.