Bow down, bitches!!!The Truffle Shuffle is impervious to bullets!
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Bow down, bitches!!!
posted by PJ
10:21 AM
11 comments
One year closer to death
Monday, January 30, 2006
Isn't that the most morbid title in the world? It cracks me up when people use that to describe a birthday. Hard to celebrate anything when you put it in THAT context.
But I digress...
Birthdays are tricky. Oh...by the way, mine was Saturday...I don't say that to garner oodles of well-wishes...it just gives me an excuse to bring up certain points...
Like I said...birthdays are tricky. Rarely do you encounter a so-so event. Either you had a good birthday, or a shitty one. Even if you don't really do anything, if you have one person (or many) do or say something cool for/to you, it automatically makes it good by default.
They're also tricky, because whether you like it or not, you make a short list in your head of people who HAVE to acknowledge your birthday. They HAVE to, or you'll hate them forever. It's so incredibly High School, but that doesn't make it any less true.
I'll wait while you quickly compile your list...shouldn't take long...
See what I mean?
This short list, while dire in its importance, is also very easy to satisfy. You see...these people don't actually have to DO anything for your birthday...they just have to point out the fact that it's coming up/here. Any amount of acknowledgment is suitable. It just has to exist.
Some will lob it out to ya early. "Hey, don't you have a birthday comin' up? Happy birthday!" You see? That shit is cool.
My short list is pretty easy. Simply put, the family and the Best Friends Five.
The family, while pretty much a given, still went out of their way to wish me good times. Sister called me up a couple times that day, which was super cool. We talk regularly, but she wanted to make sure it wasn't just some message left...so she called me again to make sure we talked in person. She even got Sister's Fiance' to call. Cool message to get, and very unexpected.
Dad was, albeit surprising, another easy mark. He actually went out of his way to make the 6-dollar-a-minute cell phone call from Aruba, where he now spends a good chunk of a couple months. We had about an $80 conversation, and he told me he was going to buy me something shiny while he was down there. Word.
Got a couple e-mails from the Best Friends Five towards the end of the week. Shan and Nashville hit me up that way and wanted to reach out so they wouldn't forget on Saturday.
Got a phone call from Peterson on Saturday. He and the wife were going to come out, but sick twins and mom-with-pink-eye sorta grounded that takeoff. Still...I've always maintained that it's the acknowledgment is what counts.
Dave and Tiz had me over to Tiz's parents' house on Saturday. Originally, I was asked to...wait a minute. Dave's real name is Dennis. I'm tired of calling him Dave. I'm not sure why I even thought he needed an alias in the first place. Anyone who reads this and knows him knows what the fuck I meant anyway. So there.
Anyway, so I was originally asked to go to Tiz's parents' to help set up the satellite dish and make sure it works for the Super Bowl. Truth be told, I totally thought that was a ruse to throw me a surprise party. But alas, I was wrong. We fixed the dish, and had some great food. Tiz even baked me a cake for my birthday. Awesome! But, nothing really out of the ordinary. It was even a little depressing...at the time...
Mother fuckers. Little did I know I was about to get Punk'd.
You see...out of the Five, it leaves only Heather. Now, Heather hadn't said ANYTHING to this point. Nothing during the week at work. No call. Not even a text message. SOME kind of acknowledgment. Nothing.
Then comes the gig that night. She's IN the band, so I'm certain that at SOME point, she'll say something to me.
Two hours go by. Nothing.
I don't know that I'd ever reeeeeeally get pissed if one of these Five forgot. But, I was starting to get freaked out. What was this to say about our friendship if someone forgot? Have I put too much pressure on the entire concept? My friend's b-days are a big deal to me...is it fair that I need mine to be a big deal to them?
The real kicker? The band even called some dude up from the crowd whose birthday was shared with mine, and SANG HIM FUCKING HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I'm thinking, "OK...seriously...can't I get in on some of that?"
I'll preface the rest of this long-ass story with the fact that I'm the KING of planning shit for my friends. Gonna surprise Peterson for his last night at the Pub? Cool. I live 50 feet from the surprise. Tiz wants to strip for Dennis' birthday? Cool. I've got the stripper pole and the plan. NEVER does anyone beat me at my own game.
Until Saturday.
Mere minutes before midnight, with all but seconds left before it's no longer even my birthday, it happens.
Everyone stops what they're doing, and the spotlight is on me.
"Where's PJ?" booms from the speakers.
Shit. You mother fuckers.
This was no ordinary calling-out. This was the whole bar singing. This was 6 cameras to catch the stupid look on my face.
This was the time the cake came out. Not just any cake. A fuckin' CARE BEARS cake. This was pretty much the gayest cake you've ever seen in your life, and it was fuckin' awesome. I mean, this cake was so gay, it almost came out on fire. This cake was so gay, if it were a gay man, it could sit on a popsicle and tell you what flavor it was. THAT gay.
Heather had this whole plan up her sleeve from the beginning. Everyone knew. Tons of people showed up thanks to the work of her, Dennis, Tiz, and others.
I suppose, when you go to such lengths to make your best friend question the friendship, it just makes it that much sweeter when you realize just how much they really DO care. I almost tear up just writing that...uh...I mean...where are my red meat and guns?!
To recap:
Number of cakes on my birthday? 2
Number of Care Bears action figures I got to take home with me? 2
Number of people who seem to think I'm pretty fuckin' cool? Too many to count
Person who was made everyone's bitch on his own birthday? Me
Person who loves that fact? Me
Best birthday that I can remember having in years? Definitely
But I digress...
Birthdays are tricky. Oh...by the way, mine was Saturday...I don't say that to garner oodles of well-wishes...it just gives me an excuse to bring up certain points...
Like I said...birthdays are tricky. Rarely do you encounter a so-so event. Either you had a good birthday, or a shitty one. Even if you don't really do anything, if you have one person (or many) do or say something cool for/to you, it automatically makes it good by default.
They're also tricky, because whether you like it or not, you make a short list in your head of people who HAVE to acknowledge your birthday. They HAVE to, or you'll hate them forever. It's so incredibly High School, but that doesn't make it any less true.
I'll wait while you quickly compile your list...shouldn't take long...
See what I mean?
This short list, while dire in its importance, is also very easy to satisfy. You see...these people don't actually have to DO anything for your birthday...they just have to point out the fact that it's coming up/here. Any amount of acknowledgment is suitable. It just has to exist.
Some will lob it out to ya early. "Hey, don't you have a birthday comin' up? Happy birthday!" You see? That shit is cool.
My short list is pretty easy. Simply put, the family and the Best Friends Five.
The family, while pretty much a given, still went out of their way to wish me good times. Sister called me up a couple times that day, which was super cool. We talk regularly, but she wanted to make sure it wasn't just some message left...so she called me again to make sure we talked in person. She even got Sister's Fiance' to call. Cool message to get, and very unexpected.
Dad was, albeit surprising, another easy mark. He actually went out of his way to make the 6-dollar-a-minute cell phone call from Aruba, where he now spends a good chunk of a couple months. We had about an $80 conversation, and he told me he was going to buy me something shiny while he was down there. Word.
Got a couple e-mails from the Best Friends Five towards the end of the week. Shan and Nashville hit me up that way and wanted to reach out so they wouldn't forget on Saturday.
Got a phone call from Peterson on Saturday. He and the wife were going to come out, but sick twins and mom-with-pink-eye sorta grounded that takeoff. Still...I've always maintained that it's the acknowledgment is what counts.
Dave and Tiz had me over to Tiz's parents' house on Saturday. Originally, I was asked to...wait a minute. Dave's real name is Dennis. I'm tired of calling him Dave. I'm not sure why I even thought he needed an alias in the first place. Anyone who reads this and knows him knows what the fuck I meant anyway. So there.
Anyway, so I was originally asked to go to Tiz's parents' to help set up the satellite dish and make sure it works for the Super Bowl. Truth be told, I totally thought that was a ruse to throw me a surprise party. But alas, I was wrong. We fixed the dish, and had some great food. Tiz even baked me a cake for my birthday. Awesome! But, nothing really out of the ordinary. It was even a little depressing...at the time...
Mother fuckers. Little did I know I was about to get Punk'd.
You see...out of the Five, it leaves only Heather. Now, Heather hadn't said ANYTHING to this point. Nothing during the week at work. No call. Not even a text message. SOME kind of acknowledgment. Nothing.
Then comes the gig that night. She's IN the band, so I'm certain that at SOME point, she'll say something to me.
Two hours go by. Nothing.
I don't know that I'd ever reeeeeeally get pissed if one of these Five forgot. But, I was starting to get freaked out. What was this to say about our friendship if someone forgot? Have I put too much pressure on the entire concept? My friend's b-days are a big deal to me...is it fair that I need mine to be a big deal to them?
The real kicker? The band even called some dude up from the crowd whose birthday was shared with mine, and SANG HIM FUCKING HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I'm thinking, "OK...seriously...can't I get in on some of that?"
I'll preface the rest of this long-ass story with the fact that I'm the KING of planning shit for my friends. Gonna surprise Peterson for his last night at the Pub? Cool. I live 50 feet from the surprise. Tiz wants to strip for Dennis' birthday? Cool. I've got the stripper pole and the plan. NEVER does anyone beat me at my own game.
Until Saturday.
Mere minutes before midnight, with all but seconds left before it's no longer even my birthday, it happens.
Everyone stops what they're doing, and the spotlight is on me.
"Where's PJ?" booms from the speakers.
Shit. You mother fuckers.
This was no ordinary calling-out. This was the whole bar singing. This was 6 cameras to catch the stupid look on my face.
This was the time the cake came out. Not just any cake. A fuckin' CARE BEARS cake. This was pretty much the gayest cake you've ever seen in your life, and it was fuckin' awesome. I mean, this cake was so gay, it almost came out on fire. This cake was so gay, if it were a gay man, it could sit on a popsicle and tell you what flavor it was. THAT gay.
Heather had this whole plan up her sleeve from the beginning. Everyone knew. Tons of people showed up thanks to the work of her, Dennis, Tiz, and others.
I suppose, when you go to such lengths to make your best friend question the friendship, it just makes it that much sweeter when you realize just how much they really DO care. I almost tear up just writing that...uh...I mean...where are my red meat and guns?!
To recap:
Number of cakes on my birthday? 2
Number of Care Bears action figures I got to take home with me? 2
Number of people who seem to think I'm pretty fuckin' cool? Too many to count
Person who was made everyone's bitch on his own birthday? Me
Person who loves that fact? Me
Best birthday that I can remember having in years? Definitely
posted by PJ
3:35 AM
12 comments
Long drives, many drinks, and puking paste
Friday, January 27, 2006
By now, you've probably read the story of the last time I hung out with Boomer. And the saga continues...
It begins by arriving in St. Louis at 6:52pm. I only know this specifically because I was challenged to get there by 7pm, and I did. With time to spare.
We got to our hotel, and did the usual check-in, dump your shit, figure out the plan portion of the event. We made ourselves pretty...well, I did. The guy that drove up with me is very securely and happily married. There was no "get ass" goal, but there's a big difference between "just in case" (me), and "don't want to even if I could" (him). So he watched the Travel Channel.
Around 7:30, daddy needed to pick up smokey treats for the evening of drinking, dancing and God-knows-what-else, so we make our way to the hotel bar, in hopes that they sell smokes.
Nope.
Fuck.
However, they DO at the sports bar by the hotel. Cool.
"What? Just follow this walkway and it will take us right to it? Thanks."
It's at this point, that we realize that not only did we pick a hotel that was close to the evenings festivities, IT WAS CONNECTED TO THEM. We literally didn't even have to go outside to get from the hotel, to the bar, and back. That fucking ruled.
So, we're early, and could eat the ass end out of a large, dead animal, so we hit up this badass sushi place that also happened to be in this same area. (Incidentally, I just pretty much gave you the layout of this whole area...hotel, sports bar, sushi place, club...all next door to each other...sweet).
After dinner, we hooked up with the party, and had a truly wonderous time. Keep in mind, that Boomer is about 6'5", and I have no idea how much he weighs, but he's big. Like...the biggest man I've ever known. That big.
We drank and drank, and drank some more. Many drinks were bought...others were simply siphoned from the bottles themselves. You know you "own" a party, when they just start handing you bottles of liqour because they're tired of dealing with you. So we drank from them.
Please note that the above was NOT due to not tipping said people. We did the math later, and after our huge tab was calculated, we realized we had actually tipped our bartender MORE than what the tab total even was. 20%? Try 120%. No wonder they were ready to just give us the keys to the bar.
I managed to latch on to the young lady that takes the money at the door. I must've had pent up flirting in me, because it began the second that we hit the door, and I felt the need to keep bringing her drinks throughout the night. Don't get me wrong...she appreciated them. A lot. In fact, after one round...and a little tongue...she even gave me my cover money back. It kinda made me feel like a hooker. Not in the "my daddy touched me funny and now I am just seeking affection" kind of way, but the "sucker...I would've fucked you for free, but got you to pay me for it anyway" type.
But anyway...back to the guest of honor...
I've had a lot of drinking experiences with this guy, and I've seen him drunk. I've NEVER seen him THIS drunk. Wow. At the end of the night, he was using guys my size to hold him up. For the record, that's tough to do. I didn't get any stronger in the few hours I was there, and he didn't get any smaller. And it's not like my balance was the greatest, or even straight-line capable. After all...I only had to go 50 feet to get to someplace I could sleep and not get arrested.
By now, it's morning. There's a point in everyone's drinking cycle where, if you've had too much to drink the night before, you must make the critical decision...do I try to stave off the puke? Or do I just submit, let it take me, and get on with my day?
I chose the latter...
If you were paying attention, you'll note that I had sushi for dinner the previous night. Well...when you drunk-puke sushi, it's a very interesting experience. You see, it's not like when you just vomit your liquid hell from the night before. No...because of all the rice and such, it was practically paste on the way up. Picture puking in slow motion. The gag gets there at the same time as other experiences, but the food takes it's sweet fuckin' time to come up. Pretty much the most disgusting vomit of my life. And that's saying something.
Luckily, having submitted to the vomit-breathing dragon, I was pretty good to go the rest of the day. The drive back was long, but having had such a good time the night before, all that was necessary was to recall an event from mere hours before, and we were all smiles.
Everyone has friends that cause you to do weird and stupid shit. This guys is one of them. I probably spent half the night answering to "Really? You just drove up here for this?" than anything else. I know I literally spent more time in the car in that 36 hour period than I did in St. Louis, and I don't regret the decision for a second.
It begins by arriving in St. Louis at 6:52pm. I only know this specifically because I was challenged to get there by 7pm, and I did. With time to spare.
We got to our hotel, and did the usual check-in, dump your shit, figure out the plan portion of the event. We made ourselves pretty...well, I did. The guy that drove up with me is very securely and happily married. There was no "get ass" goal, but there's a big difference between "just in case" (me), and "don't want to even if I could" (him). So he watched the Travel Channel.
Around 7:30, daddy needed to pick up smokey treats for the evening of drinking, dancing and God-knows-what-else, so we make our way to the hotel bar, in hopes that they sell smokes.
Nope.
Fuck.
However, they DO at the sports bar by the hotel. Cool.
"What? Just follow this walkway and it will take us right to it? Thanks."
It's at this point, that we realize that not only did we pick a hotel that was close to the evenings festivities, IT WAS CONNECTED TO THEM. We literally didn't even have to go outside to get from the hotel, to the bar, and back. That fucking ruled.
So, we're early, and could eat the ass end out of a large, dead animal, so we hit up this badass sushi place that also happened to be in this same area. (Incidentally, I just pretty much gave you the layout of this whole area...hotel, sports bar, sushi place, club...all next door to each other...sweet).
After dinner, we hooked up with the party, and had a truly wonderous time. Keep in mind, that Boomer is about 6'5", and I have no idea how much he weighs, but he's big. Like...the biggest man I've ever known. That big.
We drank and drank, and drank some more. Many drinks were bought...others were simply siphoned from the bottles themselves. You know you "own" a party, when they just start handing you bottles of liqour because they're tired of dealing with you. So we drank from them.
Please note that the above was NOT due to not tipping said people. We did the math later, and after our huge tab was calculated, we realized we had actually tipped our bartender MORE than what the tab total even was. 20%? Try 120%. No wonder they were ready to just give us the keys to the bar.
I managed to latch on to the young lady that takes the money at the door. I must've had pent up flirting in me, because it began the second that we hit the door, and I felt the need to keep bringing her drinks throughout the night. Don't get me wrong...she appreciated them. A lot. In fact, after one round...and a little tongue...she even gave me my cover money back. It kinda made me feel like a hooker. Not in the "my daddy touched me funny and now I am just seeking affection" kind of way, but the "sucker...I would've fucked you for free, but got you to pay me for it anyway" type.
But anyway...back to the guest of honor...
I've had a lot of drinking experiences with this guy, and I've seen him drunk. I've NEVER seen him THIS drunk. Wow. At the end of the night, he was using guys my size to hold him up. For the record, that's tough to do. I didn't get any stronger in the few hours I was there, and he didn't get any smaller. And it's not like my balance was the greatest, or even straight-line capable. After all...I only had to go 50 feet to get to someplace I could sleep and not get arrested.
By now, it's morning. There's a point in everyone's drinking cycle where, if you've had too much to drink the night before, you must make the critical decision...do I try to stave off the puke? Or do I just submit, let it take me, and get on with my day?
I chose the latter...
If you were paying attention, you'll note that I had sushi for dinner the previous night. Well...when you drunk-puke sushi, it's a very interesting experience. You see, it's not like when you just vomit your liquid hell from the night before. No...because of all the rice and such, it was practically paste on the way up. Picture puking in slow motion. The gag gets there at the same time as other experiences, but the food takes it's sweet fuckin' time to come up. Pretty much the most disgusting vomit of my life. And that's saying something.
Luckily, having submitted to the vomit-breathing dragon, I was pretty good to go the rest of the day. The drive back was long, but having had such a good time the night before, all that was necessary was to recall an event from mere hours before, and we were all smiles.
Everyone has friends that cause you to do weird and stupid shit. This guys is one of them. I probably spent half the night answering to "Really? You just drove up here for this?" than anything else. I know I literally spent more time in the car in that 36 hour period than I did in St. Louis, and I don't regret the decision for a second.
posted by PJ
4:55 AM
11 comments
Fuckity Fuck Fuck
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
So, my timing sucks, and I just realized a blunder. I'm going to be out of town today (Wednesday) for most of the day, and almost all of Thursday.
Sooo...no OSW...no audioblog...nothing likely on Thursday, either.
As to the audioblog, with the reaction it got last week, I'm going to commit to doing it again and often. I had planned on doing one today, but alas, I didn't leave time to do it.
I'm off to St. Louis. A friend of mine is having a going away party, and I'm that guy who's willing to take two days off to drive 6 hours, drink until I hit on homeless people and forget how dangerous East STL is, and then wake up, hope I'm not still drunk, and drive home again. Good friend? Perhaps. Idiot? Definitely. Ah well...he'll just have to owe me one.
Put it this way...last time I drank with this guy, THIS happened.
That one is perhaps one of my more entertaining posts ever...well...that didn't relate to poop. It's also one that came about way before most of you current Pizzle-heads even started reading this. If you haven't had the pleasure, I suggest getting through every letter. I won't usually pat myself on the back for such debauchery, but if one must make exceptions to every rule...
Regarding the road trip, though...good news is, I'm picking up a crew in KC to make half the trek up and back with me. That should pass some time. And help me survive this.
I know, I know. I'm a naughty Alpine Boy and must be spanked. Save the swats for Friday. That's when I'll most likely be back into this world.
Peace, bitches.
Sooo...no OSW...no audioblog...nothing likely on Thursday, either.
As to the audioblog, with the reaction it got last week, I'm going to commit to doing it again and often. I had planned on doing one today, but alas, I didn't leave time to do it.
I'm off to St. Louis. A friend of mine is having a going away party, and I'm that guy who's willing to take two days off to drive 6 hours, drink until I hit on homeless people and forget how dangerous East STL is, and then wake up, hope I'm not still drunk, and drive home again. Good friend? Perhaps. Idiot? Definitely. Ah well...he'll just have to owe me one.
Put it this way...last time I drank with this guy, THIS happened.
That one is perhaps one of my more entertaining posts ever...well...that didn't relate to poop. It's also one that came about way before most of you current Pizzle-heads even started reading this. If you haven't had the pleasure, I suggest getting through every letter. I won't usually pat myself on the back for such debauchery, but if one must make exceptions to every rule...
Regarding the road trip, though...good news is, I'm picking up a crew in KC to make half the trek up and back with me. That should pass some time. And help me survive this.
I know, I know. I'm a naughty Alpine Boy and must be spanked. Save the swats for Friday. That's when I'll most likely be back into this world.
Peace, bitches.
posted by PJ
4:43 AM
7 comments
Time to hit back!
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Slap Your Co-Worker Day is coming!!
Tomorrow is the official Slap Your Irritating Co-workers Holiday:
- Do you have a co-worker who talks nonstop about nothing, working your last nerve with tedious and boring details that you don't care about?
- Do you have a co-worker who ALWAYS screws up stuff creating MORE work for you?
- Do you have a co-worker who kisses so much booty, you can look in their mouth and see what your boss had for lunch?
- Do you have a co-worker who is SOOO obnoxious, when he/she enters a room, everyone else clears it?
Well, I am so very very glad to officially announce tomorrow as SLAP YOUR IRRITATING CO-WORKER DAY! There are the rules you must follow:
* You can only slap one person per hour - no more.
* You can slap the same person again if they irritate you again in the same day.
* You are allowed to hold someone down as other co-workers take their turns slapping the irritant.
* No weapons are allowed, other than a stapler or a hole-puncher.
* If questioned by a supervisor [or police, if the supervisor is the irritant], you are allowed to LIE, LIE, LIE!
Now, study the rules, break out your list of folks that you want to slap the living day lights out of and get to slapping...and have a great day!
posted by PJ
5:05 AM
9 comments
A Quest to leave Randomtown
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Seems like all I can think of to post lately is random musings and things that make me laugh at odd intervals (yes, those both mean the same thing...just seeing if you're paying attention...)
So...here are some things that made me laugh over the weekend...
- Why is that married girls always "leave their husbands at home because they're lame" when it comes time to hang out with me? Either I'm just that much fun, or I truly pose a "threat" to said men and they don't want the drama. Either way, it's an odd balancing act between pretty cool, I guess, and kinda depressing.
- The longest words you can type with your left hand only are AFTERCATARACTS (plural for a condition that sometimes follows cataract surgery), TESSERADECADES and TETRASTEARATES. Betcha didn't know that. And no, I'm not making that up.
- JOHNNY-JUMP-UP (a fast-growing flower or a brand name for a type of toy) is the longest word you can type with only your right hand. Seems to me that righty got the shaft. Actually, for most of us, righty DOES get the shaft...maybe that's why lefty gets the cooler words. Pity. Seems like small consolation...
- Did anyone watch the Steelers/Broncos playoff pregame? Is it me, or does the PA announcer for the Broncos sound like Kip from Napolean Dynamite, if a third testicle were added? Sheesh...you only need to find 32 PA guys for the whole league...you ran out of guys without lisps?
- It's pretty cruel that "lisp" has an "s" in it.
- Either I dick with my sleep schedule too much over the weekend, or it's just a weird coincidence, but I can't seem to get to bed at a decent time on Sunday night, and it pretty much fucks me up for the whole week. At least the first half. By the time Friday hits, I'm good, but then it's time to fuck it all up again.
Enjoy your Monday...or try, at least...
So...here are some things that made me laugh over the weekend...
- Why is that married girls always "leave their husbands at home because they're lame" when it comes time to hang out with me? Either I'm just that much fun, or I truly pose a "threat" to said men and they don't want the drama. Either way, it's an odd balancing act between pretty cool, I guess, and kinda depressing.
- The longest words you can type with your left hand only are AFTERCATARACTS (plural for a condition that sometimes follows cataract surgery), TESSERADECADES and TETRASTEARATES. Betcha didn't know that. And no, I'm not making that up.
- JOHNNY-JUMP-UP (a fast-growing flower or a brand name for a type of toy) is the longest word you can type with only your right hand. Seems to me that righty got the shaft. Actually, for most of us, righty DOES get the shaft...maybe that's why lefty gets the cooler words. Pity. Seems like small consolation...
- Did anyone watch the Steelers/Broncos playoff pregame? Is it me, or does the PA announcer for the Broncos sound like Kip from Napolean Dynamite, if a third testicle were added? Sheesh...you only need to find 32 PA guys for the whole league...you ran out of guys without lisps?
- It's pretty cruel that "lisp" has an "s" in it.
- Either I dick with my sleep schedule too much over the weekend, or it's just a weird coincidence, but I can't seem to get to bed at a decent time on Sunday night, and it pretty much fucks me up for the whole week. At least the first half. By the time Friday hits, I'm good, but then it's time to fuck it all up again.
Enjoy your Monday...or try, at least...
posted by PJ
11:19 PM
7 comments
Fuck It Friday
Friday, January 20, 2006
Well. It's Friday! I'm so excited to get my shit done and relax tonight that I almost forgot to blog. Perhaps, in the spirit of HNT, OSW, and the like, I should create "Fuck It Friday". Something about Friday just makes me want to post shallow, lackluster things. Hmmm...
For the first time in a while, I've got a night off tonight, so I plan to nerd out and stalk everyone's blogs and comment. I haven't been that good about that lately.
Enjoy the weekend!
For the first time in a while, I've got a night off tonight, so I plan to nerd out and stalk everyone's blogs and comment. I haven't been that good about that lately.
Enjoy the weekend!
posted by PJ
11:55 AM
4 comments
A poem for Pizzland
Thursday, January 19, 2006
As I Mature...
I've learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope they panic and give in.
I've learned that no matter how much I care, some people are just assholes.
I've learned that it takes years to build up trust, and only suspicion, not proof, to destroy it.
I've learned that you can get by on charm, but having a big wang or huge boobs helps.
I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself to others...they are more fucked up than you think.
I've learned that you can keep vomiting long after you think you're finished.
I've leaned that if you rub my penis, it's good luck.
I've learned that we are responsible for what we do...unless we're celebrities.
I've learned that 99% of the time, when there's something that isn't working in your house, and child or pet probably did it.
And finally...
I've learned that the people you care the most about in life are taken from you too soon, and all the less important ones just never go away.
posted by PJ
10:22 AM
11 comments
Please Please Please
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Dear God,
I know we don't talk much anymore. I also hope you realize that I don't ask for much. However, this time, I really hope you can help me out.
I'm praying that I was the first to find this. Please please please let me be the one to present it to the world. It's that big of a deal, and it would mean a lot to me.
Amen and stuff.
Dear Pizzlites,
This began on a Mixed Martial Arts message board about a week ago. Some guy from New Jersey posted a pic of himself with his friends at a club. What happened next was perhaps the best website ever.
You see, everyone began to talk shit on this guy, so he felt like posting MORE pictures would make him look less...well, I don't want to spoil it. Eventually, 137+ pages of shit-talk had formed on this thread, and people began photoshopping his pictures, adding even more hilarity.
Eventually, someone actually created a website JUST for this whole phenomenon, and it seem like it will be an internet legend in the making.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: Lee Hotti
Make sure you click through most of the site...it's priceless.
Amen.
UPDATE: He's on freakin' MySpace, too!!! :)
I know we don't talk much anymore. I also hope you realize that I don't ask for much. However, this time, I really hope you can help me out.
I'm praying that I was the first to find this. Please please please let me be the one to present it to the world. It's that big of a deal, and it would mean a lot to me.
Amen and stuff.
Dear Pizzlites,
This began on a Mixed Martial Arts message board about a week ago. Some guy from New Jersey posted a pic of himself with his friends at a club. What happened next was perhaps the best website ever.
You see, everyone began to talk shit on this guy, so he felt like posting MORE pictures would make him look less...well, I don't want to spoil it. Eventually, 137+ pages of shit-talk had formed on this thread, and people began photoshopping his pictures, adding even more hilarity.
Eventually, someone actually created a website JUST for this whole phenomenon, and it seem like it will be an internet legend in the making.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: Lee Hotti
Make sure you click through most of the site...it's priceless.
Amen.
UPDATE: He's on freakin' MySpace, too!!! :)
posted by PJ
8:49 AM
9 comments
Post #100
Monday, January 16, 2006
Fuck it.
While some have deemed my absence as negligence...truth be told, I simply didn't want to blow my wad on a 100th post and fail miserably. I have huge expectations for such an epic event.
Then, it turns out, that the pressure of coming up with some grand 100th post is rather overwhelming.
I can't just write about some normal daily thing. That's too ordinary for the magic of post 100. I could list 100 things about blah blah blah, but then I realized that the only thing worse than coming up with 100 things about anything, is having to read that many things. So, that's out.
With post 100 looming, it was keeping my from fun commentary on other things, and that's not fair to either of us. I haven't even been visiting others' blogs out of guilt.
It feels strangly similar to why I couldn't be a porn star. Well, aside from the I-don't-have-a-massive-wang part. The pressure to be good and stay good for that long, with spotlights all around, can be overwhelming.
So, fuck it. Post 100 can blow me. It's not grand, or spectacular. It just is.
There. Now I can get back to posting about things people want to read about. Like poop.
While some have deemed my absence as negligence...truth be told, I simply didn't want to blow my wad on a 100th post and fail miserably. I have huge expectations for such an epic event.
Then, it turns out, that the pressure of coming up with some grand 100th post is rather overwhelming.
I can't just write about some normal daily thing. That's too ordinary for the magic of post 100. I could list 100 things about blah blah blah, but then I realized that the only thing worse than coming up with 100 things about anything, is having to read that many things. So, that's out.
With post 100 looming, it was keeping my from fun commentary on other things, and that's not fair to either of us. I haven't even been visiting others' blogs out of guilt.
It feels strangly similar to why I couldn't be a porn star. Well, aside from the I-don't-have-a-massive-wang part. The pressure to be good and stay good for that long, with spotlights all around, can be overwhelming.
So, fuck it. Post 100 can blow me. It's not grand, or spectacular. It just is.
There. Now I can get back to posting about things people want to read about. Like poop.
posted by PJ
12:10 PM
4 comments
OSW in the Hizzy
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Today's OSW isn't anything I have in my office. Yet.
This, is the Optimus keyboard prototype. Each key is an Organic LED screen. It can be changed to suit whatever you need. Examples are below.
English and Russian (above)
Photoshop and Quake (below)
Wow. Just...wow.
posted by PJ
9:27 AM
16 comments
Take notes, people.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Tuesday is kind of a random day, and a day seemingly devoid of purpose. With that in mind, I present some random thoughts for a random day.
- When it's really really nice outside (say, like, last weekend), don't leave your coat in your car, for soon, it will be cold. Then, not only will your nice warm coat be in the car when you need it, when you finally finish cursing and GET to your car, said coat will be even COLDER than the air, and all weird and stiff.
- On a container of Altoids, it says the serving size is "3 pieces". Ever put 3 Altoids in your mouth at the same time? You might as well just light mint on fire and suck on it. Minty fresh breath only works if you haven't melted your lungs into something resembling a lagoon creature at the end of a B-movie.
- If you don't suck (or if you suck without teeth), click here and enjoy (Shanshu, you are required to click that link).
- Here are some brand new beach pics of the stunningly hot Jessica Alba. She looks too skinny here, but it wouldn't keep me from tossing off a few knuckle children to the thought of her.
- After guys wipe, they look at the TP to see what's on it. Those that say they don't are lying to you. Some say it's instinct. In my scientific opinion, I would argue that it's part morbid curiousity, and part skidmark protection.
- Chipotle is awesome. Chipotle after 9pm induces really fucked up dreams. These include, but are not limited to, getting chased by large apes in motorized shopping carts with AK-47s made from pussywillows that shoot poisonous Gummy Bears. I know...don't ask.
- Speaking of pussy...this cat fucking rules:
That's all I got.
posted by PJ
5:27 AM
5 comments
Funky Monday
Monday, January 09, 2006
Fair warning...don't keep reading if you're looking for a laugh.
I woke up this morning feeling really weird. A funk, if you will. Truly, I was in a really shitty mood.
Many of you have read that I'm involved with the Komen Foundation...and I say that to say this...
Almost like ESP, I walk into my office to find that a long-standing Race participant, Jan Murphy, died this weekend at the age of 46. She's been at more Races than I can remember, and will truly be missed. She had a difficult battle, and it truly is a blessing that she's now at peace.
She's survived by her husband and two adopted kids. If you're into the God thing, praying for them would probably be appropriate. Say "what up" to Jesus for me...we haven't spoken in a while.
There's no punchline today. Sorry to be such a downer, but these days come with the territory of being involved in something like this.
If you can find someone to hug today, I highly recommend it.
I woke up this morning feeling really weird. A funk, if you will. Truly, I was in a really shitty mood.
Many of you have read that I'm involved with the Komen Foundation...and I say that to say this...
Almost like ESP, I walk into my office to find that a long-standing Race participant, Jan Murphy, died this weekend at the age of 46. She's been at more Races than I can remember, and will truly be missed. She had a difficult battle, and it truly is a blessing that she's now at peace.
She's survived by her husband and two adopted kids. If you're into the God thing, praying for them would probably be appropriate. Say "what up" to Jesus for me...we haven't spoken in a while.
There's no punchline today. Sorry to be such a downer, but these days come with the territory of being involved in something like this.
If you can find someone to hug today, I highly recommend it.
posted by PJ
10:52 AM
5 comments
If you drink it, will it make you gay?
Friday, January 06, 2006
So, whilst visiting the parental unit over the holidays, I found this in my dad's fridge:
Setting aside the instant giggles that come from seeing something called "homo milk," it made me think of a considerably more pressing issue...much like the Bachelor post from the other day...how the fuck do people let this stuff get by them?
If I'm in the approval department of the packaging division of some milk place, you'd think that when my 17 year old intern snickered while delivering the design ideas, that I wouldn't immediately go for the sexual-orientation-specific carton cover.
I suppose I could get it if it was manufactured in another country and the translation ended up silly. But no...good ole-fashioned American cow juice was this.
I mean, really...it couldn't be "hom milk"? Or "homog milk"? Maybe even, I don't know, "milk"? Maybe they saved ink on not writing out the entire word "homogenized". Or, even more likely, they didn't know how to spell it.
As a side note, I always thought Diet Coke was a homophobic bitch, but this totally proved it. Just look at how her back is turned. I'm so disappointed at others' close-mindedness.
Happy weekend.
posted by PJ
9:31 AM
17 comments
This One Night, in Paris...
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Well...with a new year comes the inevitable "new winter line-up".
The only reason why I bring this up, is because a new season of "The Bachelor" begins on Monday. I couldn't care less about the show. I just needed an excuse to bring up the commercial I saw for it.
The only reason why I bring this up, is because a new season of "The Bachelor" begins on Monday. I couldn't care less about the show. I just needed an excuse to bring up the commercial I saw for it.
According to the commercial:
"The Bachelor begins his search for true love in the most romantic city in 
America...Paris!"
Yes...you're reading that correctly. I couldn't believe my ears and actually had to rewind the TV show I was watching to see if what I heard was really true.
We're not talking Paris, TX here folks.
Or Paris Hilton.
They meant Paris, France, and they totally fucked it up. Since when is France in America? Yikes.
I would get it if it were a live read by some broadcaster or something...but no...this was a produced TV commercial by a major network, with scripts, voice guys, and APPROVAL.
I mean...how does it get by THAT many people?!
That just cracked my shit up, and felt like it was worthy of sharing.
Happy Office Supply Wednesday. Today's OSW? I call this one, "A Complete Waste of Tape".
posted by PJ
9:49 AM
20 comments
T-minus 10 minutes until I write 2005 on accident. Again.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Another year.
With vacation comes the inevitable "holy shit, I'm back at work and have to figure out what to catch up on." Now that such a time has come, I'm afraid this post won't be a ten-days-built-up explosion of information. Truth be told, little happened to me that's worth writing about. Yet it was a great break.
Most of the time was spent relaxing. Spent some time with the family for the holidays and with Shanshu just hanging out and being nerds. Spent a couple of nights out. Spent others in...with others.
As to New Year's Eve, it turned out much better than even anticipated. I couldn't write about it much here, as the subject of the plan is a regular reader. Here's the scenario:
There's a group of us old dudes that have/had worked in bars and nightclubs for the better part of a couple of decades. Most of us have moved on to other things, and other priorities. ALL of us have stories for the ages.
The last of a dying breed finally retired. He had worked at the same club as the rest of us, though he had been there the longest...something like 8 years. We were all "entertainers", which for this club, meant a DJ/MC/party starter/dancer-in-clothes-that-we-wouldn't-tell-our-moms-about (I have a whole CD of pictures and a video exists that really shouldn't see the light of day if we ever hope to run for public office).
Anyway...this guy's last night was New Year's Eve. Instead of planning out a big farewell, we faked absence. We all set it up so that he would think we were all going to be out of town. Then, we all pulled out the old gear and moves and showed up before midnight, much to everyone's surprise. What followed, both at the club and after, is worthy of a tell-your-grandchildren story and pictures. But, neither will likely happen. At least until the statute of limitations runs out.
Needless to say, many tears were shed, we proved how important friends and family are, and showed just how out of shape we've all become. It was a plan that was difficult to keep under wraps and, much to our surprise, was executed about as well as one could hope.
I hope that everyone else avoided a New Year's worth writing home about. After all...it couldn't have been THAT fun if you could tell your parents about it.
Happy 2005...errrr...2006.
With vacation comes the inevitable "holy shit, I'm back at work and have to figure out what to catch up on." Now that such a time has come, I'm afraid this post won't be a ten-days-built-up explosion of information. Truth be told, little happened to me that's worth writing about. Yet it was a great break.
Most of the time was spent relaxing. Spent some time with the family for the holidays and with Shanshu just hanging out and being nerds. Spent a couple of nights out. Spent others in...with others.
As to New Year's Eve, it turned out much better than even anticipated. I couldn't write about it much here, as the subject of the plan is a regular reader. Here's the scenario:
There's a group of us old dudes that have/had worked in bars and nightclubs for the better part of a couple of decades. Most of us have moved on to other things, and other priorities. ALL of us have stories for the ages.
The last of a dying breed finally retired. He had worked at the same club as the rest of us, though he had been there the longest...something like 8 years. We were all "entertainers", which for this club, meant a DJ/MC/party starter/dancer-in-clothes-that-we-wouldn't-tell-our-moms-about (I have a whole CD of pictures and a video exists that really shouldn't see the light of day if we ever hope to run for public office).
Anyway...this guy's last night was New Year's Eve. Instead of planning out a big farewell, we faked absence. We all set it up so that he would think we were all going to be out of town. Then, we all pulled out the old gear and moves and showed up before midnight, much to everyone's surprise. What followed, both at the club and after, is worthy of a tell-your-grandchildren story and pictures. But, neither will likely happen. At least until the statute of limitations runs out.
Needless to say, many tears were shed, we proved how important friends and family are, and showed just how out of shape we've all become. It was a plan that was difficult to keep under wraps and, much to our surprise, was executed about as well as one could hope.
I hope that everyone else avoided a New Year's worth writing home about. After all...it couldn't have been THAT fun if you could tell your parents about it.
Happy 2005...errrr...2006.
posted by PJ
5:39 AM
5 comments
