Ew. I just got some blog on me.

From the land of Oz, to the land of "Ah Shit, it's HOT!"

2006-08-02T13:38:00.000-07:00

I've landed in Hotlanta.

I haven't had much time to post here lately. Literally, from about the day of my last post, to now, I've either been:

- without internet
- moving
- settling
- working like crazy

Sorry for the delay. However, I've been taking notes about things to blog about, so hopefully I won't end up with any writer's block any time soon.

I went from what I was doing in Wichita, and in about a week, had a new job in Atlanta. I now work for the Senior VP of Programming, and help oversee a region that includes Washington DC/Baltimore, down to Miami, and over to Louisiana. It's pretty sweet. A stupidly overwhelming amount of work, but all is beginning to settle down.

My move was as bullshit as a move usually is. Movers didn't show up on time. They broke shit. It was $1500 more than I expected. They lost shit. They found it after I threatened to owned their company before I was done. Fuckin' drama.

Once I got my stuff on the move, I had to move myself, of course. Moving me wasn't much of a big deal. Moving my cat...now THAT was something to experience. Turns out I have a cat that gets carsick if she's in the car too long. So, and unplanned trip to the vet required sedation for the rest of the trip. Ever seen a drunk cat? Ever seen a cat's third eyelid? One of the weirdest experiences of my life. And all she could do was look at me with that, "what the fuck did you do to me?" look.

I'm pretty settled now, thank goodness. And no, I wasn't a fucking liar. I just didn't expect to be transplanted 1000 miles in such a short period of time. It was crazy. And I neglected my blog as a result.

More to come...

Cheers.

The Wedding Weekend, Part 3

2006-06-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

Part 3 - Saturday.

The plan was to meet up in my room at 11am. Sharp. Probably the biggest surprise of the whole weekend? The fact that all the guys in the wedding showed up on time. Believe me. I was as surprised as you were.

Next was getting ready in my room, and proceeding to the church at 12:30 for pictures. Much like the night before, it was hot. Not a neat kinda hot, like "glistening supermodel" hot. "Sweaty fat-guy-balls" hot. Not good.

It's funny how hours of pictures actually don't even feel like that on such a big day. I was dreading it, but it was far from painful.

Yes, I cried during the ceremony. Yes, I cried when I wished my mom could've been there to see it. Yes, I'm starting to cry now as I write this. But it's a good cry.

After the wedding, we boarded a trolley to take us to the reception. We loaded the Walmart styrofoam coolers (yee-haw!) with booze and made our way. Of course, it was only, like, 6 blocks to the reception...lots of work for little return...

As is customary with wedding receptions, the wedding party waited until the rest of the guests arrived before making our grand entrance. But there was a catch. As we waited in the lobby of the adjacent hotel...and drank...we got scolded by the front desk because we were drinking booze that we didn't buy there. Asses.

We proceeded up to my room, as it was the...uh...nearest to us, I guess. Styrofoam coolers and all. We drank for about another 45 minues, and then left the coolers there while we made our way to the party.

The reception, for me, was quite a blur. Not because I was hammered. Well...not JUST because I was hammered. Mostly because I saw pretty much every person I'd ever grown up with and around. It was crazy. Every time I turned around, it was a person I knew. Nuts, I tell you. But awesome.

The part I remember the most was...well...I won't bore you with the details. It was basically a tribute to my mom, with 300 people crammed onto a dancefloor the size of my bedroom, everyone crying and laughing. It was the most surreal moment of my life. I start to shake just thinking about it.

At the risk of this getting too long, I'll paraphrase the next few events:

- Pizzle hits on young in-law cousins
- young in-law cousins are COMPLETELY infatuated with Pizzle.
- Pizzle and Dennis take said cousins out after the reception to a club, and proceed to rip the place to shreds.
- Dennis gets into a drunken dance-off with about 40 black guys.
- Dennis wins.
- Pizzle and Dennis get into a water fight at Denny's.

When we got back to the hotel, we stumbled back up to our room(s). As I got to my room, I fumbled with my key, thinking only about how soft my bed was about to feel.

*squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak* goes the door.

Finally home.

*squish*

"What *squish* the *squish* fuck?"

"Why is my carpet wet? Like...all of it?"

Remember those styrofoam coolers? Yeah...they didn't hold.

Number of sytrofoam coolers: 3
Number of bags of ice filling them: 6
Number of ice cubes that WEREN'T melted, and still in the coolers: zero

"I'm *squish* so dealing *squish* with this *squish* in the *squish* morning," I said in a drunken-4am-stupor.

And that's exactly what I did.

Luckily, there wasn't much to worry about...nothing that I owned personally was affected by the water. All it really had to do was dry. Since it's been a couple weeks and I haven't heard from the hotel, I assume there wasn't much damage done. Whew!

It was a unique end to a suitably unique weekend. Perhaps the best weekend I've ever had. There are definitely people I wish could've been there and shared the event(s) with us. But I think everything happens for a reason, in spite of our ability to affect change on our own. They were there in spirit, and through our memories.

And it will be something I never forget.

Fin.

The Wedding Weekend, Part 2

2006-06-19T04:55:00.000-07:00

***For those that missed Part 1, click here. I've also gone back and added picture proof.***

Part 2 - Friday.

Some of the boys ended up at the Strip Club on Thursday night. As the future brother-in-law, it should've been something I took part in. However after my sister shut her eyes before telling me, "Uh...have...uh...fun...just please don't tell me what went on," I found that my reputation had significantly preceded me. I'm always the "make me forget my life" guy, and most know it. She didn't want me unloading all this knowledge on her future husband.

That, and I'm too old. They didn't even want to go out until 11:30, and by 11, I was like, mmmmmmmmm...hotel bed. I'm going to make sweet sweet sleepy love to you.

We woke up Friday knowing that it was going to be the lightest day of the three. We'd already picked up our tuxes on Thursday. All we planned to do today was go go-karting, and of course, the rehearsal.

The gaggle of dudes proceeded to the go-kart place at about 1pm. These weren't ANY go-karts, mind you. These are helmet-required-watch-a-safety-video go-karts. Suh. Weet.

Something no one told me before we all went...New husband's friends all race. Some professionally. They came with their own helmets. So, basically, it was them darting in and out of corners while I drove Miss Daisy. To put this in perspective...I got lapped THREE times. I'm not even that bad of a driver. It's just that they're that good. Do you know how retarded you have to be to be lapped three times? Well...let's just say there might be more than one reason why they gave me a helmet. "Huh huh...whersth my basthball."

After about 20 minutes of that, and the subsequent yelling that was required after the mandatory hearing-loss, we all made the trek back to the hotel to rest, get cleaned up, and make our way to the rehearsal.

There's no way to really transition into this next part. The A/C in the church was broken. I've never wanted to say "fuck" in a church more in my life. And that lack of sugar-coating that fact was about as abrupt as our realization of it that day.

It was BRUTAL. Like, sweat-beads down our back. The kind of heat that makes you giggle because you're so miserable.

Thankfully, we got out of that as fast as we could. The dinner that followed was extraordinary (and in a different, A/C-rich, location). We drank. We told embarassing stories. We watched a video with an amazing amount of embarassing pictures. It was a great night.

...and the best was yet to come...

The Wedding Weekend, Part 1

2006-06-13T15:34:00.000-07:00

I say "Part 1", because I don't have the likely incriminating pictures associated with said weekend, and will definitely be posting them at a later date. In addition, because there are many days associated with this event, I'm going to recap them in segments. To follow:

- Days Leading up to the Big Day
- The Big Day and its Aftermath
- Photo Evidence

And now, Part Uno - Thursday.

Thursday morning contained big plans for the boys. The men of the wedding party, and the dads, were all doing one of the time-honored traditions of male-bonding: golf.

Men golfing: 10
Men who can actually golf: 3

Now...most of us HAVE golfed. But we don't actually golf. Add to this the fact that we were playing one of the toughest courses in the Midwest. Hilarity ensued.

Hole 1. I teed off and managed to make the green in one shot! Of course, the green in question belonged to hole number two. Yes. I hit the ball, and it went so far to the right, that it crossed the rough and various foliage and landed on the green of the following hole.

Hole 4. I smacked the shit out of my tee shot on this one. I was really straight. For about 50 yards. Then the following conversation took place:

"Well...I'm not getting THAT ball back."

"Hey...that may actually clear the fence."

"Wow...is that going to hit the street?"

"Uh...that's not going to hit that minivan, is it?!"

*sssscccreeeeeeeeeeeeeech* <---that's the sound of a pissed off dude in a minivan, squealing to a stop in an effort to avoid my bouncing golf ball in the road.

Hole 6. We finally got the beer cart girl to find us. Thank God. We each bought four beers, and went about our business.

***EDIT - A random shot of Matt and Shanshu golfing...***

Hole 7. Shanshu hit a house. Actually, he hit a grill, then the bottom of the deck, and then the house, before landing in the rocks. Now THAT takes talent. Here he is hitting the ball...

And where the ball ended up...(there was a fence in the way, or we would've retrieved the ball...)

Hole 10. We're already exhausted, and the holes we're playing now are inversely proportional to the number of beers we're drinking. In other words, Shan and I stopped playing for the most part, and mostly just drank.

***EDIT - Another random shot...this time, just of the course...basically so I didn't feel like an idiot for bringing my camera.***

Whole Thirteeeeen. By nowe, we've been DRINKINGING plentiness and stuff. Did anywon knew that Corona can come in an can?! HAHAHAHAHA...I said "come ina can." I really does though. But it's hard to git the lime in it.

Hole 17...fkdlfj eork opwv weoruuf os.elf wehr lfiuer. We need food.

***EDIT - I don't even remember what hole this is from. While it may look like my tee shot, here's what it really is. It's my first shot. Meaning, when I hit my first shot, from the white tees, this is exactly where it landed. On the red tee. Another talented shot, if you ask me. And if you look closely, you'll notice that I'm taking the picture with my right hand, and still have a beer can in my left. I may not be a pro at golf, but...***

Yeah...we didn't even finish all 18 holes. We rolled back to the hotel to get cleaned up, and headed to dinner. At least...that's what I was told by the sober people the next day.

What I DO remember about dinner, was eating so much good food, we just weren't right for the next 3-4 hours. It was so gluttonous, that there was actually a point in which Shanshu pleaded with the server to leave us alone.

"If you come back, you'll bring us more food...and I will die."

One day down. Two to go.

Up next: Part 2 - Friday.

Geocities sucks a nad.

2006-06-12T19:10:00.000-07:00

I guess the downfall to free templates is that you're at the mercy of their graphics. I didn't bother to look at said references until I logged into Blogger today and noticed that all my backgrounds and graphics were gone.

After further review, I noticed that Geocities is the host of said graphics. No wonder.

How is Geocities even around anymore? They suck so bad that I'm surprised ANYONE wants to put up with them. It's really on the verge of rediculous.

Anyway...all my allotted "blog" time was devoted today to fixing the debacle that was my template. Sorry, but the wedding story from this weekend is going to have to wait another day. It's a great story, though. I promise it won't disappoint.

Wedding Nazis and the RSVP

2006-06-06T14:03:00.000-07:00

My sister's wedding is Saturday. So you know...her wedding planner chick is a nazi. My sister probably appreciates it, but it's fuckin' up my chi. I've gotten a zillion e-mails in the last couple of days, only about 10% of which even pertains to me. I'm the single brother. All I do is show up and make a drunken ass out of myself at the reception. It's either that or field questions all night about "when are YOU getting married"...

I've only spoken to my sister's wedding planner once on the phone. The story went like this:

*bbbrrrrrrring*

Pizzle: Hello?

Kindra: Hey, it's Kindra.

Pizzle: What's up?

K: Have you sent in your RSVP yet?

P: To what?

K: Becki's wedding.

P: No, why?

K: Because you have to. Why haven't you yet?

P: Uh...because I'm her fucking brother. And I'm IN the wedding. If I don't show up, there's a hole. And her gay male bridesmaid won't have anyone to walk down the aisle with (yes, that's true.)

K: Can you please send it in anyway?

P: I'm burning the edges first just so it looks funny when you get it. That way you'll know it's mine.

K: ...

P: Buh-bye.

Only thing funnier is that my dad had to do the same thing. Yes...you read that correctly. The man who's not only giving her away, but is PAYING FOR IT, had to RSVP to his own event. Heh. Guess that'll show him.

I'm leaving for Kansas City tomorrow, so I'll be absent from here through the weekend. Wish me luck that I don't cry like a 4 year old. I'll catch you all on Monday, with what I'm sure will be a VERY entertaining story of the weekend's events. Toodles.

Why do Mondays suck so bad?

2006-06-05T05:59:00.000-07:00

It's always interesting to wake up on a Monday and always feel the same way.

Mondays suck.

I had a great weekend, though. It was stupidly busy, but in that looking-back-on-it-puts-a-smile-on-your-face kinda way.

Had gigs with the band Thursday night (took the stage at 12:45am...done at 2:30am...in bed at 4:30am...ugh). That made Friday a little rough.

Another gig on Friday. It was one of those where the crowd was light, but fun, and the group, amidst all their exhaustion, let loose a little bit. It was good times.

Saturday was particularly stressful only because everyone was starting to hit a wall. The first gig on Saturday was at 2pm...a quick 45 minutes as part of an all-day festival. Group played well, and we sparked some really solid networking.

Saturday night was great. We had our final gig of the week at a place we love. We always wonder if this time will be the time when it sucks, and it never does (*knock on wood*). The crowd was a little later than usual, but after they filtered it, it was game on. As the resident sound nerd, I couldn't have been happier. It was some of the best sound we've produced in a long time.

4 gigs in 72 hours. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

For those interested, pictures from the weekend are located here and here. Though, I encourage you to dig through the rest of the site, too. You can click here to do that. :) Oh, and no, I'm not in any of the pictures from the weekend...that's what I get for being the one who takes them all...

Back to the point...There's little better than working your ass off amidst tons of pressure, only to actually pull it off.

Which brings me to a future topic...my younger sister's getting married this Saturday...whoa...

But more on that later...at least it's not happening on a Monday...

Strippers Abound!

2006-06-02T05:17:00.000-07:00

Your Stripper Song Is

I'm Too Sexy by Right Said Fred

"And I'm too sexy for your party
Too sexy for your party
No way I'm disco dancing"

Yes, you're super sexy. But you never take yourself too seriously!

What Song Should You Strip To?

Well...it's Friday, and there's little I like more than the idea of strippers on a weekend. Ignore the fact that my stripper song basically says I'm full of myself and gay.

Happy Weekend, all.

Guess who's back, bitches!

2006-06-01T04:58:00.000-07:00

Wow...for what it's worth, I thought I was dead, too.

I really didn't think that I would ever pick this up again. But, low and behold, the new month begins, new things in my life begin, and it only makes sense to get back to writing. <---heh...you'll never see this because I hit delete too fast, but I actually spelled "writhing" first instead of "writing". Freudian slip?

To commemerate my return, I present you with a new look, as well as a story of a Memorial Day weekend gone by. Oh, and to prove that I'm going to be around for a while, I've already written 10+ posts, so I only have to hit "publish". :)

On to the tale...

With Memorial Day Weekend comes a standing tradition amongst some of my friends: The Summer-Kick-Off-I-Bet-If-We-Feed-Pizzle-Enough-Booze-He'll-Do-Something-Stupid Party. So it goes.

A beautiful day set the backdrop for pool fun, great food, and flowing drink. It began at about Noon. By 2pm, none of us had eaten, but we'd been drinking plenty. It was time to soak up some of it. We did, but only then did the fun begin.

And now, I present you with a list of the day's events (hint: I got the list from Dennis...I don't remember everything that occured on it):

* Noodle bongs
* Jaeger bombs
* Vanilla Ice dance-off
* Noodle battles ("Monkey!")
* Booty dance lessons
* Appropriate trampoline front flip execution training (thx to the
vacant neighbors)
* Naked Pizzle or Pizzle in Rachael's shorts

I became the official "that guy" of the party. I was the one who slipped into the pool, and have the bruises, concrete rash, and sprains to prove it. I was the one who remembers everyone hanging out, then suddenly wakes up in the passenger seat of his own car AS HE'S BEING DRIVEN HOME BY HIS FRIEND'S PARENTS.

Yup.

As I spent Monday feeling sorry for myself, I questioned whether I would put myself in that situation again. Not until Labor Day Weekend, I suppose.

(Before I forget, also see the post below)

In addition...

2006-06-01T04:56:00.000-07:00

I have NO idea who's still rockin' the blog and who's not. I like to keep my links filled with people still active so that if others find you through me, I'm not leading them to folks that have taken a break or something. Also, I'm not big on having the most links ever.

SOOOOOO...please let me know if you want me to add/re-add you to the list (commenting at all will basically let me know you're there).

Holy fuck, I lost my phone.

2006-03-13T04:03:00.000-08:00

I hate the idea of having a home phone. I don't have any real use for it anymore. Long distance is a thing of the past, and who the hell is home long enough to actually be reached?

With all my phone equity placed in my cell phone, it doesn't exactly bode well if said phone is ever misplaced.

After a night out (surprise), and getting a ride home from a friend, I proceeded to my apartment like usual. As I got in the elevator, I did the usual slightly OCD pocket check. Wallet? Check. Keys? Check. Phone? Fuck.

Now, with no phone, I find myself in a pickle. How do I reach said friend and inform them that apparently my phone is now taking residence in their car? It's not like I can call them and let them know.

So, after reaching my apartment, I tried a few things, including, but not limited to, screaming, cussing, and using the internet to text message both my phone, and my friend's. After a while, I gave up, and went to bed.

Luckily, the following morning, my friend figured it out and was able to drop it off before work.

It just goes to show...regardless of how well connected you might feel, it all goes away rather fast if you're too drunk to remember where you put your "connection"...

Blogger will be my bitch

2006-03-09T10:01:00.000-08:00

I've been a bad blogger. A bad bad blogger.

However, I'm saving up some recent events to blog about, and will be (hopefully) back to the normal every day/every two days thing.

Look for topics to include:

- The Art of the Drunk Dial
- Why I hate the handicapped bathroom (had to get ONE in there about poop, right?)
- Holy fuck I lost my phone

and so on...

The fun begins Monday...

Snow skiing in Hell, anyone?

2006-03-06T16:42:00.000-08:00

Well...the world is finally ending. Three 6 Mafia won a fucking Oscar.

I've never been a fan of the whole Oscar thing, only because the Acadamy is full of a bunch of douchebags that don't particularly depict my personal tastes, or anyone else's for that matter. It's frustrating to see a huge deal made out of a show that's essentially just a bunch of old guys sitting in a room deciding what kind of film we should appreciate.

And then came the coup of all 78 years.

Bigger than Halle. Bigger than Jamie. No..."It's Hard Out There For A Pimp" is officially the biggest breakthrough in bridging the Oscar stereotype gap.

Aside from the profound impact that hip-hop has and will continue to have, I've actually just been giggling thinking about a bunch of stuffy old guys bobbing their heads. Elton John this is not.

As I watched the show tonight, it reminded me of just how lame award shows have gotten anymore. But...I watched anyway...

Oh, and by the way...as Jon Stewart pointed out...

Three 6 Mafia: 1. Martin Scorsese: 0.

Spongeback Mountain

2006-02-23T08:58:00.000-08:00

In the world of Brokeback Mountain parodies, few cut through.

This is the best one I've seen...

Laughter is truly the best medicine

2006-02-22T04:06:00.000-08:00

So you know, I saw someone snort on a TV show last night, and that's what prompted this whole post.

I've always prided myself on laughter.

Laughter is what makes not only MY world go round, but the people around me, as well. I don't imagine that many come here just to hear me wax poetic about something somber.

Laughter is what has gotten me through some very tough times, and is really a daily therapy. And sometimes, laughing is just as entertaining as what you're laughing about.

Shan and I laughed about something at one point, and so long and hard, that we simply laughed at the fact that we were laughing. We had to take breaks only to breathe. We even had to separate just to settle down. Laughter can do that.

Heather and I have a funny cycle we get stuck in now. We each have a quirk. I snort. She laughs like what's-his-face from "Revenge of the Nerds". If ANYTHING makes one do it, the other starts, making the other laugh, and so on. Example: I made some comment last night about our bass player...basically just talkin' shit...but it was very well timed, and quite witty, if I do say so myself. Anyway, it caught her off guard, and made her laugh in that quiet I-don't-want-to-laugh-in-his-face-but-that-was-fuckin'-funny laugh. In spite of the quiet, the "Nerds" laugh slipped out, which cracked me up so much, that it made me snort. And it was pretty much all she wrote.

One of my favorite quotes of all time came from Charlie Chaplin:

"A day without laughter is a day wasted."

So laugh, if for no other reason than the fact that today's Wednesday, someone actually nicknamed the day "hump day", and it stuck.

Oh, and poop. Laugh and poop.

You can't have a weekend without "eek"

2006-02-19T22:47:00.000-08:00

Let me start by saying you know the weekend went well when you have a mascot to represent it.

Come to think of it, I have two.

Sometimes a weekend is just really fun. There's nothing necessarily crazy or remarkable, but it's still a couple of days that just the mere mention of has the ability to put a smile on your face.

Both Friday and Saturday night were gig nights, so it was pretty typical, as far as plans go. The added bonuses, though, were visits from folks that I don't get to see nearly enough.

Friday I had a friend of mine in town from Minneapolis. Technically, she's in "the business", and was here for a show the next day. BUT, I was able to convince her to come in a day early so we could hang. So, she became my roadie for the evening.

It was her first time to hear the band, which is always exciting for me. After all...who better to show off in front of than your friends?

The place we were at this particular weekend is one of the farthest locations we travel to. It means for a long drive if you're by yourself, but with friends, it makes it considerably quicker.

The drive home on Friday was hilarious, filled with a drunken fast food rendezvous, and one of the prizes of the evening. Even though you have to talk them into it, it turns out that grown women can flirt with the Drive-Thru guy and get them to give you a Happy Meal, even if you're too old. They'd probably do it anyway, but at the time we definitely felt like we were on to something.

In the Happy Meal was some freaky fairy angel thing that now resides on my rear view mirror. We tried for the entire drive home to figure out what the hell it was supposed to be, but we still have no idea. We just call him "Moe".

On Saturday, my sister and her fiance came in town for a wedding, but cut out early so they could join Dennis and Tiz at gig number two for the weekend.

My sister gave me mascot number two as a belated birthday present, in the form of All My Heart Bear. Of course, now that Heather and Dennis have started the idea that I'm into Care Bears, everyone's getting in on the action. Fucking fantastic.

So, Saturday was filled with a Care Bear, guys who only know how to dance in a circle, and my sister proving that you really can pass out on a bar stool and not fall off.

And finally, this is the best T-shirt ever, but not for the reason you think. Long story, but something I just had to acknowledge out loud for the one person who will read this and get it.

Here's to the countdown to next weekend...

Duck!

2006-02-16T09:57:00.000-08:00

I promise, I'm trying to blog...I've been so rediculously busy, it's freakin' me out. It's a good busy, but not particularly conducive to my blog family.

Just know...I'm trying...

In the meantime, Cheney's Got A Gun...

Why Valentine's Day is stupid

2006-02-13T15:24:00.000-08:00

OK...so this is totally going to look like a post by a bitter person. I'm really not.

Valentine's Day sucks. Here's why:

There are only two ways V-day can go. Either "expected" or "badly". Quite simply, if you do something on V-day, it's expected. If you don't, you're an asshole.

Perhaps there aren't enough dudes out there that would send flowers on a random day and have the card read "...because it's Tuesday" or "...because you're you." So, some stupid holiday had to be derived so that guys could get their quota in, and girls could feel like they accomplished a change in their otherwise semi-retarded manboys.

If I were a girl, I'd be pissed if the only time I got cool shit like flowers was on V-day or my birthday. If I'm as special as you told me I was before the first time I slept with you, I should get that shit all the time. And randomly. And in front of my co-workers so I could show off.

As a guy, to feel OBLIGATED to do anything such as this is just silly. I'd much rather give you jewelry because you just gave me the best head in my life. Of course, then I wouldn't trust you after that. You never trust the woman that gave you the best head of your life. Ever.

Not to create a cheering section amongst the women readers, but we should do that stuff without provocation. We should do it because you really are pretty fuckin' cool EVERYDAY, not just on the day we HAVE to say it.

But, then again, most guys don't know this, and it allows those of us that do to have much success. After all, if I give you flowers randomly, it may lead to, uh...jewelry *ahem* later that night. *wink*

Gym Musings

2006-02-07T04:50:00.000-08:00

I think someone at the YMCA has been reading my blog. This would normally be creepy, but there's a victory to be had here. THEY'VE FIXED THE SHOWER CURTAINS.

I went and worked out (more on that later in the post), and when I showered afterwards, I was thrilled to find COMPLETE shower curtains. They went from post to post! Woohoo!

I'm not sure why this is such a big deal to me. It did afford me a rather large smile which, I might add, is a dangerous trait to have in a room full of naked 50 year olds. Eek.

As to the workout, it was awesome. I'm sticking to it, as it's better than cocaine, right? While a good way to lose weight, there are dangers to cocaine, like losing a ton of weight and falling into the straw.

Anyway...I spent about two and a half hours there, and while it's difficult to walk now, there's nothing like the feeling of a great workout.

I'm not really the type to drool over chicks while at the gym. I know girls hate it when you do that, and plus, there's little motivation in flirting with someone at the gym when there's far more attractive dudes there than me.

Guys like me are an acquired taste. We're not the quick hookup. We're the "charm the pants off you when you bother to have a conversation with us" type. As a side note, this is why I have better vacations than most of my friends. Most guys are like, "Dude! We have to find the chicks! We have to get laid!" Guys like me don't get laid on vacation, and I'm apparently one of the few that know this.

Ever heard your girlfriend get back from Vegas and call you immediately, screaming, "OMG! I just got back...I hooked up with this guy! He's, uh...from Kansas...and average...uh..."

See what I mean? I'm more likely to be the guy YOU sleep with while your girlfriend's on vacation.

However...back to the gym. While I'm not one to drool, I CAN get caught off guard from time to time. Case in point last night.

While not the hottest girl I've ever seen, definitely in the top 5 since I've been in Wichita (for those that have never been here, they breed them well here...hot women abound). She was that cute, petite, fun-pink-Barbie type. Just a total Yowza! body. Short blond hair tied in little handl...errrrrrr...pony-tails.

Just gimme a minute...

Lovely.

Anyway. She positioned herself on a treadmill, in PERFECT view. I still had 40 minutes left on my cardio. I have an aural deterrent in my iPod, and a visual deterrent in her. Oh yes!

Oh no.

You see, it was the perfect view because there was an empty treadmill between the two of us. Then the largest woman EV-ER found her way onto the treadmill between us. While I give her credit for hauling her sizable frame to the gym, it was depriving me of some serious masturbation material.

You'd think I'd get rewarded for picking only a few times in my gym life to wish everything was in slow motion, but no. Maybe it was karma. Whatever it was, I definitely got the visceral smackdown.

I still powered through my workout in spite of the disappointment. I should at least get credit for that...

I got tagged. It tickled.

2006-02-06T03:08:00.000-08:00

So, I've owed SB a tag for a week or so. Here we go...

THE RULES: the tagged victim lists 8 different points of their perfect lover/partner, mentioning sex of that partner.

Female.

1. Funny. Not necessarily "Funny-Ha-Ha". She just needs to have the same kinda sense of humor that I do. She needs to "get it".

2. Independent. Have a life. Have a job. Have girlfriends.

3. Caring. Don't just let me care about you. Care about me. And show it.

4. Be strong. Stand up for what you believe in. Fight for things. Don't just sit there and let people have their way with you.

5. Be vulnerable. Even strong women need to let their guard down from time to time and allow others to help.

6. Honest. Cliched as it may be, it really is the basis for lasting relationships.

7. A good communicator. What good is the above if you won't share it?

8. Have the Vibe. The Vibe is what makes you attracted to someone you'd never expect. The Vibe is what makes you rip each other's clothes off if the time is right. The Vibe is what allows you to look at each other, have a conversation, and never say a word. The Vibe is what happens when you can fuck with your eyes...your mind...your imagination. Have that.

Get ya tag on if ya want to...

Hope your weekend was swell. Not to be confused with "swollen". It goes without saying that I hope THAT's true.

Weekend's here...

2006-02-03T11:56:00.000-08:00

Weekend's here...I don't have much to blog about today...

But, I'll leave you with this for your weekend. Click HERE.

See ya Monday. :)

Removal of the protective coating

2006-02-02T04:40:00.000-08:00

Honestly, I've been too busy laughing at the Chunk thing to post anything worthwhile for the last couple of days.

However, magic happened last night, and it's outweighed my need to giggle at the picture below.

Last night...I found an ab.

You see, since last summer, I've been on a bit of a mission. Ironically, not really a conscious mission...it just sort of happened. I changed my whole lifestyle. I've been eating better. Exercising a bit. Gave up the really poor habits in my life.

Since August of 05, I've lost 21 pounds. Not the biggest milestone for many, but it was no easy feat for me. I'm under 200lbs for the first time in 9 years.

Imagine if I was this charming and cut! I'd be unstoppable.

Last night, while catching up on some TiVo, I went from my "lying on the couch" position and sat up. I looked down, and what did I see? My first ab.

Imagine the thrill! I almost masturbated right then and there. Thankfully, good taste, and my cat's constant what-the-fuck-do-you-think-you're-about-to-do-in-front-of-me stare, prevailed.

There is much headway to be made, and the fight is not over. For anyone who's ever tried to lose weight, it's a constant struggle. For anyone who's had any success, you know that little things like this are what keeps you going.

Wish me luck.

Next stop? Being able to see my penis in the shower when I look down. I'm buying a fucking yacht when that happens.

The Truffle Shuffle is impervious to bullets!

2006-01-31T10:21:00.000-08:00

Bow down, bitches!!!

One year closer to death

2006-01-30T03:35:00.000-08:00

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

Long drives, many drinks, and puking paste

2006-01-27T04:55:00.000-08:00

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.