Pleh. I'm pretty sure my head is going to explode soon. I've got a cold, and the pressure in my head is pretty impressive. As a bonus, I woke up this morning with "Love On The Rocks" by Neil Diamond in my head. I swear. Scout's honor. The combination of those two things was almost enough for me to top myself. Crikey.

A bit of a recap of last weekend, since this weekend's looking like it's going to be filled with chicken soup and orange juice. So, Friday, went to Philly. Just a quick note - there are certain things I don't want to hear:

Only guys allowed
We're out of Captain Morgan's
Your shirt is on fire
I just came from the doctor, and ...
[On a first date] Do you want to go see the new Tom Cruise movie? I love him!
Cash only bar

Yah, I went to Philly to check out this band called My Morning Jacket, and I heard the words "cash only bar." I mean, how am I going to leave my credit card on a tab in another city if you only take cash? Totally ruining my plan for being Idiot of the Year.

The show was quite fine. I spent a good portion of it trying to decide if this woman was hot or not. She was kinda cute at first, and the more I drank, she didn't get any hotter, so I'm going with a definite maybe. Yup, these are the things I think about when at a live show.

Also, this is the return of the Stallion to the blog. I only mention this because he was very excited about being back in the blog. You might remember him - tall Philipino, likes wraps, introduced me to Captain Morgan's Tattoo? Yup, that's him. Anyway, after the show, we hit a cheesesteak joint, where I asked the dude to give me the "Philly Special." In retrospect, I really was setting myself up for something bad there, but he just gave me a cheesesteak with a ton of onions. Naturally, this darling young woman comes in soon after I start chowing down ... I basically just admired her from afar. She could probably smell the onions from afar, too.

I spent most of Saturday at Portside (shocker alert!), watching Notre Dame lose and watching a young hottie I like to call Dr. Boots get more and more tipsy. She also kept introducing me to guys. Ladies, just a tip ... introducing me to guys is NOT HELPING! Heh.

So, here's something I've been wondering lately. I have to wear a tie every day. It's not tight, but it's not all that loose, either. So, is this thing cutting off necessary oxygen to my brain on a daily basis? I mean, I'm unbright enough as it is, what with the drinking, the meth use, the glue sniffing, the watching of The Real World and the UFC, and listening to people at the gym have conversations. I don't need any more help, thank you.

Here's how silly my life is getting. It's freezing out today, so I actually put the outdoor cats' food in the microwave and warmed it up some. I think that Idiot of the Year award might be a little closer now.
Speaking of the gym, two notes:

1) Seriously, if you're on a cell phone in the gym, and it isn't an emergency situation, just get an L tattooed on your forehead. It'll save the rest of us time.

2) Ok, this will likely get me in some trouble. There's this woman, and she was on The Biggest Loser ...

An aside ... is it just me, or does that show conjur up different images? I mean, not that I've ever watched it, but I would expect that show to be hosted by Richard Simmons and have an appearance by Lindsay Lohan daily.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. So, this woman was on the show, and she apparently lost all this weight, so they have a poster in the gym talking about it. At the end of the poster is this quote:

"She is an inspiration to us all."

All? Um. Ok, what did I miss here? I'm not really getting how I'm supposed to be inspired by someone that gained a ton of weight then lost it. I mean, if I go on a Dunkin' Donuts binge, gain 100 pounds, then drop it all, is that inspiring? Mmm ... doughnuts.

Ok, go ahead and hit me over the head now ... I'm evil! Had to get that one off my chest.

Hola! Como estas? See, that right there is what kept getting me into trouble in Mexico. I have a pretty limited understanding of Spanish, so I'd start out with that, and get a reply along the lines of something Speedy Gonzalez would say, and at about the same rate of speed. Ay caramba!

So, let's see, where to begin. How about this beauty from my notes:

"Queen in the bathroom"

Now, I realize that if you have a decent imagination, there are a lot of different things that could mean, most of them involving men in pantyhouse. Nevertheless, it's nowhere near that sordid. I'm in this joint called Senor Frog's, and I walk in the men's room, and this dude is in there playing the guitar for tips. Naturally, I ask him if I can play a tune, and he's for it. I mention to him that he's probably not going to know the song, and I start playing "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" by Queen. He proceeds to sing the entire song ... in English. I about fell over. 'Course, I was on shot #5 at the time, so that wouldn't have been a big surprise.

I ended up giving him 100 pesos as a tip. I never quite figured out how many pesos are in a dollar, so I either gave him around $10, $100 or $10,000. Either way, money well spent.

The rest of the night involved swing dancing with the waitresses. Needless to say, this was not my choice, but it's a little hard to just stand there when you get dragged onto the dance floor. I did manage to scare one away when she told me her lips were chapped and I offered her some Burt's Bees. So, if you're ever in Mexico, and are being attacked by Hispanic women, break out the Burt's. Apparently, it's toxic or dangerous or something.

So, I stayed at this adults only place, which frankly made me a tad nervous, but I wanted to avoid the family/kids scene. It wasn't bad at all - free Spanish Playboy in the rooms, and Spanish Playboy is a lot better than the American version (think brunettes with great tans vs. blondes) - but I did have one interesting conversation with a young lass when I went to go into one of the late night bars at the place.

Me: Hi!
She: Hola!
Me: So, what's the story with this place?
She: Well, it's an adult bar, and we play an adult game in here.
Me: Uh ... ok [visibly nervous] ... what does that mean?
She: [leans over and whispers] At the end of the night, half of the room will be nude.
Me: Does that include you?
She: No.
Me: Dag. [Running away as fast as possible].

I also learned that I look like a cokehead who likes hookers. That's the only conclusion I can come up with, since I was offered each more than a dozen times. One enterprising cab driver even had a menu of women. He handed it to me along with a flashlight. Talk about service!

As for the rest of the trip, I really didn't do much of anything. I read two books, napped on the beach a lot, drank a ton, watched Vanilla Sky in Spanish (I've fallen in love with Penelope Cruz because of that flick), and ate ... and ate ... and ate. I'm pretty sure I gained 100 pounds ... or 1,000 pesos pounds ... I haven't figured out the weight conversion, either.

I did manage to buy 3 more necklaces. That brings my total up to somewhere around 7. I have no idea how many that converts to in Mexico - 70? 700? Still haven't found one I really like, either. The search continues!

Strangely enough, the best part was the flight back. We flew right up the East Coast on Thanksgiving night, from Miami to Baltimore, and it was completely clear. Just a fantastic flight, and I'm not a big fan of flying in general.

Gimme a C! Gimme an A! Gimme an N! Ah, screw it, I'm not smart enough to figure out how you spell Cancun. Anyway ... I'm going there this week, leaving tomorrow. Woot-o-rama!

Let's see ... a quickie weekend recap before I split. Friday was Portside's second birthday party, which gave me a much needed excuse to drink. I have a hard time coming up with reasons. Before I hit the joint, stopped in at Nacho Mama's for a couple drinks. Have to warm up the liver, doncha know.

Here's a thought ... if you're giving someone who's been drinking a bar tab, try not to make it some weird number, like $19.89. It took me a good 5 minutes to figure out the tip. No wonder I sucked on my Accounting midterm.

Portside was hecka fun. Crowded in the back, quiet in the front. I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere, but it's Sunday night, and I'm on the double hangover. I'm pretty sure I closed the place, but I'm also pretty sure I don't remember closing the place. See how that works?

A tip here. IF, and I'm not saying I did this, but IF you happen to fall asleep on someone's bathroom floor, and IF it's a tile floor, and IF it's absolutely freezing and the tile is like ice, be sure to grab a couple of towels to use as blankets. IF that should happen to you sometime. Just sayin'.

Started off Saturday at a house party, which was pretty cool. The only problem was there was this little hottie there, and she was in quite a bad mood. Found out later that she and her ex boyfriend were there, and neither knew the other was going to be there. Nice! Surprise! Heh. I also called an English girl a "friggin' Limey" and mentioned to her that we kicked their ass in the war. Ok, I was kiddin' around, but I'm not sure she got the humor. Friggin' Limeys.

Got back to the city, and it was kind of a lamefest out. One of those nights when all the fun people stay home. It happens. Naturally, I tried out every bar in town before finally giving up. I did get to show to someone who doubts the genius of the pizza briefcase why it's a necessary invention. That's right, I made her carry the pizza home. It was great watching her struggle with the box. Ha!

So, there's this cat, see, and he tends to like wing sauce. So, I got some wings and since he likes the sauce so much, I decided to pet him with a wing. You read that right. That might be near the top of my list of odd things I've done, but it was quite comical at the time. Must get some video on that soon. He was not only incredibly clean after a full washing, but quite happy as well.

One note from the weekend: "Gum that tastes like Rumplemintz." Mmm, yeah, that's really not much of a selling point for the Wrigley people.

A'ight, yinz, I'm off like a prom dress in 8 hours. ARRRRRRIBA! Happy Thanksgiving and whatnot ...

Was checking out the City Paper holiday guide yesterday, and there's a very interesting gift in there. It's called the MiBod or ... um ... something like that. It's a vibrator with an iPod attached, and it vibrates to the beat of the song playing. Naturally, I have a question. Actually, I have a couple of questions. Hmm ... now that I think about it, I have a ton of questions ... and most of them are in reference to music involving Boy George. Let's just move on.

Another hecka fun weekend! Friday I did ... something ... lemme think ... eh, who cares, let's just get to the notes:

"Girl kicks me - who is she?"

... and the beauty is ... I still don't know! I'm not even sure why I write these things down sometimes. To remind me of my awful memory, of course.

"I'm the perfect age for Bon Jovi"

Not really sure what this one means, either. I'm just really, really hopeful that someone wasn't trying to set me up with him. Yeah. That likely wouldn't be a good thing.

I basically had an entire relationship this weekend ... and I did it via text messaging! I'm quite proud. The courtship, the breakup, it was all on there. Quite hilarious. Last message sent "Nice knowing ya ...", response "Ditto." Heh.

Saturday, met some friends in Fed Hill. These friends like to go to Cross Street, and Cross Street only serves beer and wine. So, to combat this, I buy a couple of those little airplane bottles at the liquor store and get a Diet Coke (this is all top secret info, of course ... don't make me send my henchmen/henchcats over to your place to rough you up when you spill the beans). Three trips to the liquor store later ... jeez ... yeah, I had a pretty good buzz going when we finally left, and the liquor store clerks couldn't figure out why I started tipping them.

From there, we went to Mad River. It was early, so it hadn't turned into the Floating Bar of Cheese that happens around 10 or so. Can I also say that Mad River has the most ridiculously priced drinks in town? I think. I'm not really sure how many I ordered for myself or for my friends, but a $100+ bar tab is a little ridiculous for 90 minutes. Put it this way ... my tab at Portside for a 3 hour stay later on was ... well, when the tab comes there, I'm usually seeing triple, but it was a whole lot less than that. Stupid Mad River.

The list of bars after that nonsense is a little long. It's easier to tell you where I didn't go ... Ropewalk and Mother's. Yup, I think that about covers it.

Here's something from the What the frick is wrong with people? category. I'm in a waiting room yesterday and this dude is in there filling out paperwork. He's got some sort of hard candy, and dude is sucking and smacking on it so loud, I thought I was in Paris Hilton's car. As if that's not enough, he's listening to music on headphones, and he's humming it ... loudly. I even gave him a nickname ... The Annoying Senor Suckitude. That's right ... ASS.

Just a thought here ... 69 is a cool number, dude (I'm doing the surfer sign with my hand right now, by the by) ... unless it's your test score. Friggin' Accounting. So, to recap, I set the curve on my Macro exam, the one that I thought I would struggle with, and I halfway tanked the Accounting exam, the one I thought was easier than Tara Reid. Newman!

Cat nonsense. I slept in a tad this morning because I was headed to the dentist for a checkup. Naturally, both furheads hopped up on the bed and reminded me right in my face that breakfast was late. Even more naturally, I grabbed each one individually and gave them hugs - they hate to be hugged ... it's hilarious, and a fairly easy way to get rid of them for a bit. So, please explain why it is that when I finally dragged myself out of bed and went downstairs, only one clown showed? I found the other clown sitting in the bathroom. Apparently, if breakfast is late, it's served in the bathroom. Make a note of that.

She's lump! She's lump! She's lump! She's in my head ... and now she's in your head, too. [evil laugh]

Ok, so my favorite conversation from this weekend ... I'm in the bathroom at Waterfront, and a dude I know from the gym walks in, and he's a tad tipsy. Here we go ...

Me: Hey, Brian, what's up?
He: [obviously not recognizing me] Um, hey ... how you doing?
Me: Great! My name's Jack, by the way - I've met you before.
He: Oh, sure, I remember you.
Me: A'ight, well, I'll catch you later.
He: Sure thing, Brian!
Me: Um, that's your name.
He: Oh. Oh yeah. That's my name. Right.

At bars, they have this thing called the Idiot Pile. It's the pile where they put the cards of the dopes that walk out and leave their card on a tab. I'm infamous ... or is it famous? ... for this. Hey, I have my reasons:

- taking women to the hospital (that actually happened once)
- chasing someone to another bar then forgetting to go back
- passing out
- involved in practicing kissing skills somewhere
- too drunk to sign my own name

So, I go to Portside on Saturday and ask Bo if he has my card from the night before. He comes over, and drops 2 on the bar. Cripes. Maybe they should just rename that the Jack Pile.

The weekend was fabulous. Friday, started at Cross Street for a bit of a birthday thing for the HN, then went to No Idea in FH. It's appropriately named, because other than a toasty hot bartender named Charlotte, I have no idea why I go there. It's quite likely that I'll get punched by Cherie for that, but she doesn't read these things anymore anyway, so HA!

The rest of the night was an exercise in why I go out alone, but we'll just leave it at that. Silly girls! Even when I agree to go out in Fed Hill, people still take me back to Canton. Hmm ... maybe that's a sign!

Saturday, started at Red Star to meet up with L&J for a drink, and I ran into a group of hotties. Hmm ... maybe that's a gaggle. A pride? One of them didn't know the cardinal rule - never give Jack your camera! Otherwise, you end up with pictures of someone's boot and the floor. I'm quite the photog, especially when buzzy, lemme tell ya.

Hit Waterfront after that, which was great, mainly because my friends from Federal Hill and Canton were there. That's right, they both showed up. Heh. Only issue was getting a drink, but I'm much too smart for that. I started ordering 2 at a time. Yes, I am a genius, thank you for noticing.

Ended up at Sabatino's at 3 am. How I got there is pretty much anyone's guess. Cab? Bus? Teleport?

Here's a fun game. It's called good idea that's actually a bad idea. Let's play!

Good idea: Save the best for last on a plate of food
Bad idea: Um, I'm usually full by the time I get to it. Brilliant!

Good idea: Only drink on Friday and Saturday nights.
Bad idea: I end up drinking enough for the entire week. Double brilliant!

Good idea: No eating in the bathroom.
Bad idea: Hmm ... well, actually, that's a good idea. The bathroom is the scene of some horrible events ... well, unless you're in the shower with someone ... or in the shower alone ... never mind.

So, I sorta lost a friend, and I'm a bit bummed. Her name's Sandra, she used to be on Myspace, she's this hecka hot redhead, and she just disappeared one day. Unfortunately, I lost her number in the text messaging in Hurricane Rita fiasco, so I can't contact her. So, if she's readin' ... hope you, the boys, and Jojo are a'ight! And just for you ... Stiddleficks!