Phew! I stink! Ok, so I've done some experimenting and I have these two shirts that I wear to the gym that reek pretty badly if I don't bleach them. They are both colored shirts, so it's a little tricky, and I'm about as good at laundry as I am at not getting drunk on Friday nights. I guess it just would've been easier to say I'm not good at laundry. Actually, how friggin' hard is it? Put in the clothes, soap, and go. A'ight, never mind.
So, anyway, as I was saying before I managed to somehow interrupt myself - not a very useful or marketable trait, by the way - these shirts stink. Now, I'm sure you're first reaction is "Uh, dumbass, maybe it's YOU that stinks." Well, I can assure you, I don't stink. So there. I always smell like flowers. Problem is, I sometimes forget to put them in with the whites, and forget that I haven't bleached them. Today was one of those days. Luckily, I went in the spin room by myself, so few were subjected to the rank, cuz the rank was kickin', knowwhatimsayin?
I also like to go in there and sing along with songs on my iPod as loud as possible while I'm bikin'. If they were ever to put a camera with audio in that room, they could get some hilarious stuff. Today, I rocked the house to Incubus, Weezer, Foreigner, LL Cool J, and I even had the entire house singing along to Bryan Adams. Ok, the "house" was a crowd of people in my head, but it was pretty cool. Everyone was doing the Na Na parts and clapping in rhythm. Yup, I am a legend in my own mind.
So, my buddy Damon came up last night to help me get inebriated. I think I spelled that right. He also helped me get drunk. Damon weighs about 79 pounds wet, but he's a pretty good drinker. He's also Irish, and I'm pretty sure it's a requirement that all Irish people either (1) have red hair, (2) are good drinkers or (3) are good drinkers and have red hair. Damon doesn't have red hair, so you do the math. I'm pretty sure they all have to eat potatoes every day, too. I think I read that on a box of Lucky Charms or something.
So, being 1/16 Irish myself (explains a lot, doesn't it! Shaddap!), I decided we had to do the good Irish thing and go to Claddaugh. Ok, so I can't front ... I always go to Claddaugh. I also always go to Portside. Guess where we went after Claddaugh? Ya'll are some smart readers.
I also ran into Chrissy Hot while we were at Claddaugh. That's my little nickname for her. Her name is Chrissy ... you can probably figure out the rest. She goes to my gym, which I've renamed The World's Dumbest and Most Pretentious Gym. Eh, that's probably too big to fit on a sign. How about TWDAMPG. Perfect.
A quick aside about TWDAMPG. I hope I haven't told this story before ... if I have, pretend like you haven't heard it. There's a pool at my gym, which is always packed in the summer with the def hipsters that go to my gym. It's pretty much impossible to get a seat on the weekends unless you show up after the bars close the night before. So, this dude is re-building the area around here, and he built this hecka huge building right by our gym. The funny thing is, turns out it completely blocks out the sun at the pool. Completely. Like a solar eclipse with bricks and glass. Hahahahaha. Damn, I'm getting bitter in my young age, but I find that hilarious. What's not so funny is the yahoos at the gym are raising prices. I might not be long for TWDAMPG.
Anyway, so after Portside, we managed to get sucked into the pizza joint on the Square. I haven't the slightest idea what it's called ... all I know is that the pizza is great at 1 am when you're drunk, and it tastes like cardboard ass when you're not. Well, cardboard ass with sauce and cheese. So, I had a couple of slices of cardboard ass with sauce and cheese for breakfast. Needless to say, I feel GREAT right now. Might have to start drinking.
Ok, back later with details of tonight's silliness. On the card is Gecko's, Waterfront, and then probably ... gee, wonder where I'll go after that? Maybe Portside? Hmm. I believe I said shaddap!
Oh, and I just realized it's pretty much impossible to kick yourself in the crotch. I haven't the slightest idea why that popped into my head, but you better believe I tried it. No, I'm not on crack.
So, anyway, as I was saying before I managed to somehow interrupt myself - not a very useful or marketable trait, by the way - these shirts stink. Now, I'm sure you're first reaction is "Uh, dumbass, maybe it's YOU that stinks." Well, I can assure you, I don't stink. So there. I always smell like flowers. Problem is, I sometimes forget to put them in with the whites, and forget that I haven't bleached them. Today was one of those days. Luckily, I went in the spin room by myself, so few were subjected to the rank, cuz the rank was kickin', knowwhatimsayin?
I also like to go in there and sing along with songs on my iPod as loud as possible while I'm bikin'. If they were ever to put a camera with audio in that room, they could get some hilarious stuff. Today, I rocked the house to Incubus, Weezer, Foreigner, LL Cool J, and I even had the entire house singing along to Bryan Adams. Ok, the "house" was a crowd of people in my head, but it was pretty cool. Everyone was doing the Na Na parts and clapping in rhythm. Yup, I am a legend in my own mind.
So, my buddy Damon came up last night to help me get inebriated. I think I spelled that right. He also helped me get drunk. Damon weighs about 79 pounds wet, but he's a pretty good drinker. He's also Irish, and I'm pretty sure it's a requirement that all Irish people either (1) have red hair, (2) are good drinkers or (3) are good drinkers and have red hair. Damon doesn't have red hair, so you do the math. I'm pretty sure they all have to eat potatoes every day, too. I think I read that on a box of Lucky Charms or something.
So, being 1/16 Irish myself (explains a lot, doesn't it! Shaddap!), I decided we had to do the good Irish thing and go to Claddaugh. Ok, so I can't front ... I always go to Claddaugh. I also always go to Portside. Guess where we went after Claddaugh? Ya'll are some smart readers.
I also ran into Chrissy Hot while we were at Claddaugh. That's my little nickname for her. Her name is Chrissy ... you can probably figure out the rest. She goes to my gym, which I've renamed The World's Dumbest and Most Pretentious Gym. Eh, that's probably too big to fit on a sign. How about TWDAMPG. Perfect.
A quick aside about TWDAMPG. I hope I haven't told this story before ... if I have, pretend like you haven't heard it. There's a pool at my gym, which is always packed in the summer with the def hipsters that go to my gym. It's pretty much impossible to get a seat on the weekends unless you show up after the bars close the night before. So, this dude is re-building the area around here, and he built this hecka huge building right by our gym. The funny thing is, turns out it completely blocks out the sun at the pool. Completely. Like a solar eclipse with bricks and glass. Hahahahaha. Damn, I'm getting bitter in my young age, but I find that hilarious. What's not so funny is the yahoos at the gym are raising prices. I might not be long for TWDAMPG.
Anyway, so after Portside, we managed to get sucked into the pizza joint on the Square. I haven't the slightest idea what it's called ... all I know is that the pizza is great at 1 am when you're drunk, and it tastes like cardboard ass when you're not. Well, cardboard ass with sauce and cheese. So, I had a couple of slices of cardboard ass with sauce and cheese for breakfast. Needless to say, I feel GREAT right now. Might have to start drinking.
Ok, back later with details of tonight's silliness. On the card is Gecko's, Waterfront, and then probably ... gee, wonder where I'll go after that? Maybe Portside? Hmm. I believe I said shaddap!
Oh, and I just realized it's pretty much impossible to kick yourself in the crotch. I haven't the slightest idea why that popped into my head, but you better believe I tried it. No, I'm not on crack.
posted by AxnJxn at 10:54 AM
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