Is there anything worse than someone yipping about the heat? Well, it's friggin' hot. So there.
Before I get started on ... um ... whatever it is I do here, I have some random stuff. Well, I always have random stuff, this just seems to be particulary random stuff. Anyway.
Seen on a Myspace profile under what this person is looking for: "Hott guy, between 14 and 15." Another joke that writes itself. The only thing better would've been fractions. Hott guy, between 14 2/9ths and 15 7/23rds.
So, I spent some time in airports this weekend, which are absolutely the best situations for people watching. Some clown, and that might be a kind assessment of this dude's character, was walking through the airport with one of those neck brace things on. You know, those pillow things that keep your head from lolling over onto the drink cart or stop you from drooling on the twinkie next to you. As if that wasn't enough, it was askew. That's right, I just used askew in a sentence. He topped it off by wearing a pink Izod shirt. He's the early leader for Idiot of the Year.
I have a urine story. Imagine that! So, I'm on the plane, and I have to whizz. If you haven't been in the bathroom on an airplane well, let's just say it's about the size of a school locker. As a bonus, since it's on the side of the plane, it's a little tricky for a dude to whizz, because the wall is at an angle. Basically, you have to lean backwards while doing this ... kinda like doing the limbo, but with urine involved. Anyway, I'm doing my thing, with my nose pressed against the side of the plane - quite the comfy position. I finish and as I'm washing my hands, I realize I pretty much got most of the whizz on my shorts. On both sides, I have nice long wet spots. Beautiful. I couldn't be happier if you had poked me in the eye with a Slim Jim.
As an added bonus, there are 2 hotties on the airplane that are sitting near me. I realize I'm going to have to return to my seat at some point. Yes, I did consider staying in the bathroom the entire flight, then realized that pee stains probably aren't a good enough reason to violate FAA rules. Fortunately, the mind was still working, so I did the splash water all over my shorts and pretend like the sink went crazy thing. As a bonus, neither hottie even looked up. So much for the Mile High Club.
Even better than this is the fact that the only other pants I have with me are my black dress pants. So, I change in between flights, and now I've got an all black outfit on - pants, shirt, shoes. I am Johnny Cash. I looked like an advertisement for GQ or something. Ok, ok, let's not get crazy ... how about Old Navy?
As I'm waiting for flight #2, I sit down next to this attractive woman in the gate area. After a bit, she stands up and starts doing some sort of yoga moves, right in the middle of the airport. I sniff myself, just to make sure I didn't accidently put on my Freak Attraction cologne. She finally finishes, and we start talking. At one point, she uses the exclamation "Jump Back!". You heard me. If you aren't familiar with "Jump Back!", go rent the movie Footloose, and you'll hear it. I felt like I had time warped right back to 1984. I half expected to see Boy George walk by or Dexy's Midnight Runners to be the baggage handlers.
The weekend was a little short due to a quick trip I had to make, but I did manage to get back in time for Sunday night's festivities. Started out at the Bay Cafe which couldn't have been more crowded. I guess I wasn't drunk enough, because I was actually annoyed. As a bonus, the bartender gives me my tab as I'm about to sign, then informs me that she's "watching me". I sorta smiled, because she's kinda hot, and I'm down with her watching me, until she notes that she's watching me so that I don't walk off without signing. Apparently, that's common practice there. Lovely. Needless to say, I didn't write my phone number down for her at that point.
From there, I hit Granite for a drink in peace, since there's rarely anyone in there before 10:00 ... rule of thumb on this joint - once they start charging a cover, run for the hills. The bar basically turns into a bunch of Jabronis covered with nacho cheese. Not pretty. Fortunately, it was also late enough to hit Portside.
At Portside, I learn that both Victoria and April have found me on Myspace which ... well, it really doesn't change anything, I s'pose. In fact, it gives me a great opportunity to mention the scar that Meano gave me on my leg. Heh. Friggin' hot dogs!
I also meet a hottie that I've been seeing at the gym for some time. I mention to her that I've always thought she was attractive, and she responds with a couple of words that are awfully close to English. Unfortunately, she's so waffled that she can't make conversation, and my buddy Mark informs me that the previous weekend, she was carried out of a bar. Oof. I mean, even if you're incredibly hot, there's nuttin' attractive about having to hold someone's hair back while they get sick. Hmm ... she does have kinda short hair though.
I bumble around there for a bit, then split for home. I stop at the pretzel dog stand, but the brain has pretty much shut down for the night, and I can't decide between a pretzel dog or a pizza pretzel. I actually stood there for a good 3-4 minutes debating it, then decided to go home and make eggs. Brilliant.
Music tip for the day ... go get Bobby Caldwell's "What You Won't Do For Love". Great tune ... good background music for practicing your kissin' skills. That tip is on the house. You can thank me later.
I've been at home the past two days ... I don't go back to work until tomorrow. Fast Times at Ridgement High is on TV right now ... needless to say, I won't be leaving the house anytime soon. Way to go, Hamilton!
Before I get started on ... um ... whatever it is I do here, I have some random stuff. Well, I always have random stuff, this just seems to be particulary random stuff. Anyway.
Seen on a Myspace profile under what this person is looking for: "Hott guy, between 14 and 15." Another joke that writes itself. The only thing better would've been fractions. Hott guy, between 14 2/9ths and 15 7/23rds.
So, I spent some time in airports this weekend, which are absolutely the best situations for people watching. Some clown, and that might be a kind assessment of this dude's character, was walking through the airport with one of those neck brace things on. You know, those pillow things that keep your head from lolling over onto the drink cart or stop you from drooling on the twinkie next to you. As if that wasn't enough, it was askew. That's right, I just used askew in a sentence. He topped it off by wearing a pink Izod shirt. He's the early leader for Idiot of the Year.
I have a urine story. Imagine that! So, I'm on the plane, and I have to whizz. If you haven't been in the bathroom on an airplane well, let's just say it's about the size of a school locker. As a bonus, since it's on the side of the plane, it's a little tricky for a dude to whizz, because the wall is at an angle. Basically, you have to lean backwards while doing this ... kinda like doing the limbo, but with urine involved. Anyway, I'm doing my thing, with my nose pressed against the side of the plane - quite the comfy position. I finish and as I'm washing my hands, I realize I pretty much got most of the whizz on my shorts. On both sides, I have nice long wet spots. Beautiful. I couldn't be happier if you had poked me in the eye with a Slim Jim.
As an added bonus, there are 2 hotties on the airplane that are sitting near me. I realize I'm going to have to return to my seat at some point. Yes, I did consider staying in the bathroom the entire flight, then realized that pee stains probably aren't a good enough reason to violate FAA rules. Fortunately, the mind was still working, so I did the splash water all over my shorts and pretend like the sink went crazy thing. As a bonus, neither hottie even looked up. So much for the Mile High Club.
Even better than this is the fact that the only other pants I have with me are my black dress pants. So, I change in between flights, and now I've got an all black outfit on - pants, shirt, shoes. I am Johnny Cash. I looked like an advertisement for GQ or something. Ok, ok, let's not get crazy ... how about Old Navy?
As I'm waiting for flight #2, I sit down next to this attractive woman in the gate area. After a bit, she stands up and starts doing some sort of yoga moves, right in the middle of the airport. I sniff myself, just to make sure I didn't accidently put on my Freak Attraction cologne. She finally finishes, and we start talking. At one point, she uses the exclamation "Jump Back!". You heard me. If you aren't familiar with "Jump Back!", go rent the movie Footloose, and you'll hear it. I felt like I had time warped right back to 1984. I half expected to see Boy George walk by or Dexy's Midnight Runners to be the baggage handlers.
The weekend was a little short due to a quick trip I had to make, but I did manage to get back in time for Sunday night's festivities. Started out at the Bay Cafe which couldn't have been more crowded. I guess I wasn't drunk enough, because I was actually annoyed. As a bonus, the bartender gives me my tab as I'm about to sign, then informs me that she's "watching me". I sorta smiled, because she's kinda hot, and I'm down with her watching me, until she notes that she's watching me so that I don't walk off without signing. Apparently, that's common practice there. Lovely. Needless to say, I didn't write my phone number down for her at that point.
From there, I hit Granite for a drink in peace, since there's rarely anyone in there before 10:00 ... rule of thumb on this joint - once they start charging a cover, run for the hills. The bar basically turns into a bunch of Jabronis covered with nacho cheese. Not pretty. Fortunately, it was also late enough to hit Portside.
At Portside, I learn that both Victoria and April have found me on Myspace which ... well, it really doesn't change anything, I s'pose. In fact, it gives me a great opportunity to mention the scar that Meano gave me on my leg. Heh. Friggin' hot dogs!
I also meet a hottie that I've been seeing at the gym for some time. I mention to her that I've always thought she was attractive, and she responds with a couple of words that are awfully close to English. Unfortunately, she's so waffled that she can't make conversation, and my buddy Mark informs me that the previous weekend, she was carried out of a bar. Oof. I mean, even if you're incredibly hot, there's nuttin' attractive about having to hold someone's hair back while they get sick. Hmm ... she does have kinda short hair though.
I bumble around there for a bit, then split for home. I stop at the pretzel dog stand, but the brain has pretty much shut down for the night, and I can't decide between a pretzel dog or a pizza pretzel. I actually stood there for a good 3-4 minutes debating it, then decided to go home and make eggs. Brilliant.
Music tip for the day ... go get Bobby Caldwell's "What You Won't Do For Love". Great tune ... good background music for practicing your kissin' skills. That tip is on the house. You can thank me later.
I've been at home the past two days ... I don't go back to work until tomorrow. Fast Times at Ridgement High is on TV right now ... needless to say, I won't be leaving the house anytime soon. Way to go, Hamilton!
posted by AxnJxn at 10:13 AM
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