Let me preface this by saying that I may be a little bias on this issue. I have been a smoker for roughly seven years now. I've tried to quit somewhere between eight and ten times, but it never works. Menthols are just too damn tasty, and my willpower is a bit weak sometimes. But, I have also been known to partake in a bit of booze from time to time. So this isn't a post about how I hate alcohol and people that drink it, or anything like that. Also, I did next to no research for this, so don't expect to see stats and "facts." So, why is smoking demonized in our society, while alcohol is glamorized?
Ok, so pretty much everyone knows that smoking is horrible for you. Lung cancer, throat cancer, probably ulcers, I'm sure you can get tumors and AIDS from smoking. Second hand smoke can, apparently, kill your babies, neighbors, co-workers, and friends. If you decide to smoke, you're pretty much saying you hate civilization and God. There is probably a good reason why we don't see tobacco ads in papers or on TV anymore. Probably because of all the people that "die" due to smoking. Well, not necessarily. My mother works at the local county health center, and she deals with death certificates. Apparently, when a person dies, if they have any history at all of smoking, then that is to be the cause of death. If a 97 year old woman dies, and she also happened to smoke, then smoking killed her. It surely wasn't the fact that she was 97 years old. Nope. Smoking clearly killed her. If someone dies, weighed 520 pounds, and smoked? Cigarettes, not the morbid obesity. A 33 year old man walking across the street, smoking a cigarette, hit by a semi? Smoking distracted him, and killed him with a semi. What I'm saying is that maybe, just maybe, those tobacco death stats are bullshit. Sure, smoking kills lots of people, but most likely not as many as we've been lead to believe.
I also don't really believe that second hand smoke is as murderous as they say. When I was a little dude, I had some horrible asthma. Regular breathing treatments at home and the hospital kind of bad. My mother smoked around me. You would think that if my lungs were already messed up with asthma, the second hand smoke would have surely killed me. Well, 20+ years later, I have become a smoker with very little problems with my lungs, besides whatever damage smoking has done to them, but that's neither here nor there. So, if you ask me, I think second hand smoke might have...improved my lungs? Maybe I had little sissy girl lungs at first, and once they got a shot of smokey-poison, they grew a pair of hairy nuts, and kicked asthma the hell out. I'm sure I'm wrong, but I do not care. Hell, my girlfriend hates smoke. When she goes over to my moms with me, where there is smoke flying around all over the place, she only really complains about the smell that latches on to her clothes, and that it bugs her eyes. She isn't bent over in pain, her lungs on fire due to the hellish second hand smoke. Nope, she's just irritated that she has to wear different clothes when she goes there. However, I'm sure second hand smoke is bad for sissy non-smokers. Just like dairy is bad for my sissy lactose-intolerant stomach. I don't demand that people make their food a certain way so I don't poop my brains out later. I eat/drink it, read a magazine in the bathroom, and go about my day.
Ok, now to booze. It has been declared by the medical community that drinking a glass of red wine every day is good for you. I can believe that. Quick question: How many people know someone, anyone at all, that drinks just one glass of red wine a day? Or have heard of someone that does? Even in the movies? I know all kinds of people that drink a few beers a day/night, or like to just booze it up until they can't remember anything anymore. I know someone that had to go to AA when he was in high school. I have an uncle who has somehow not died from years and years and years of rampant beer drinking every day. But anyone that just drinks one glass of wine? Nope. It is possible that I just don't know any "classy" people. With that I say "Fuck you, we have class falling out of our ass." And as far as the advertisements go, we are told to drink responsibly. Thinking about all the alcohol related traffic accidents, it doesn't really appear as though that message sinks in sometimes. You could always assign a designated driver, but that's just no fun. Being the DD for a group of friends sucks because, dammit, I want to drink, too.
I have heard some people say that they prefer the company of someone who is drinking rather than a smoker. Ok, let me toss a situation at you. You're sitting at home by yourself. It's nice and peaceful, you just cleaned everything up, it's the best your place has looked in years. You settle in to watch some high-quality sci-fi, when there's a knock at your door. You answer it, and there before you is someone who is so very clearly drunk (slurred speech, stumbling around, open liter of Jager in hand, loves everything) and someone who smells like they've been smoking the nastiest cigarettes all nightr, and even currently has a lit cigarette. If you had to pick only one of them to let inside your sparkling apartment, which would you pick? The very clearly drunk person, or the stinky smoker? If I were a betting man, I'd wager you would take the smoker. Why, you ask? It is very easy to deal with someone who smokes. Any smoker worth anything knows that sometimes you can't smoke inside, and when going over to someone's house, will ask permission before doing so. We all know how much it sucks to smoke out in the cold, but that's why we have heavy coats and hats (not gloves, they get in the way of smoking). And if you don't like the smell, well, give us some sort of spray, and we'll make ourselves stink good. It's also very easy to talk to a smoker, since we're calming down while we smoke, and it helps us think more clearly.
Someone hopped up on the booze, however, is a completely different story. First off, you have to be aware of what kind of person they are when they drink. Some are happy, some are sad, some are angry, some are stupid, etc. Unless you have prior experience with the person, it can be a rather unpleasant surprise when their drunk alter ego shows up. Ok, so you let the drunk guy in, and he's a happy drunk, so you lucked out. He stumbles in, knocks over some stuff of a table, spills his booze on your freshly cleaned carpet, admires your boobs if you happen to be a chick, calls you a gay if you happen to be a guy, throws up on your TV, and passes out. If he was a sad drunk, you'd have to deal with him crying and wanting all sorts of hugs. If he was an angry drunk then you probably got assaulted, and if he was a stupid drunk then he probably showed up at your door naked with an empty beer case on his head flirting with your bushes. Why are smokers the outcasts again?
Here's another scenario: What do you think when you're driving along in town, and you see someone smoking while they drive? Probably something like "Oh, he's smoking. I wonder what we're having for dinner tonight. I sure hope it's Hot Pockets!" When you see someone smoking while driving, I'm going to wager that most people don't give it any sort of second thought. Maybe if they had their windows rolled up, and had a kid in the car with them. Otherwise, it is of no real concern. Now let's say you're driving down the road, and see someone downing a fifth of Jack while driving. You would probably think something along the lines of "Oooohhhhhh fuck this!" and get the hell away from them as fast as possible, because you know there's going to be a wreck, and don't want to be involved with it. I don't think I've ever heard of any traffic accident cause by a smoker. I'm sure it's happened, but not with anywhere near the frequency of alcohol related accidents. But as long as they are drinking and driving responsibly, it's ok, right?
One final thing. The price of cigarettes is, indeed, ridiculous. A buddy of mine has said that where he lives, cartons are going for around $100 a shot. They raised the taxes on cigarettes a few years ago to help people decide to quit. However, the money that is gained from the cigarette tax hike goes towards health care for low-income families. So, they want you to quit so they raise the taxes, but they need that tax money to help poor families...? It's stupid shit like this that make me smoke.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Buck Reviews "My Best Friend's Girl"
A while back, I heard Dane Cook for the first time. I thought he was pretty funny in his own special way. Not the best comic I heard, but he made me chuckle. I do still enjoy his stand-up from time to time. When I heard he was going to start doing movies, I was curious. Usually, when an established comic goes into movies, they do fairly well. Richard Prior, Robin Williams, Rodney Dangerfield (if you want to consider his purposely-crappy movies good, which some do), and a few others I can't think of all have some decent movies. Bill Cosby, who is the best stand-up ever, had one of the best TV shows of all time. Which is why I was at least intrigued when I heard about Dane giving it a shot. Then I saw a few clips from Simon Sez, which was horrible. He was tolerable in Waiting, mostly because he was a bit character. Good Luck Chuck just sounded absolutely embarrassing, so I didn't even bother. I haven't seen the rest of his movies, but I don't think I have to. I'm sure he plays a super sexy/funny goof in all of them. If I'm wrong, I don't really care.
I can't really say why I decided to go and watch My Best Friend's Girl when it came out in the theater. The only logical conclusion I can make is that I wanted to see if he can do a good movie. If he can, this sure as hell isn't it. I hated it almost immediately, but since I paid almost $20 to see the damn thing, I stuck it out. Probably the worst movie I've ever seen. Easily the worst comedy I've seen, barely beating out Van Wilder (I'll probably do an entry on Ryan Renyolds at some point). Yesterday, I watched it again, and took notes so I can write about it here. So, without further ado, here is My Best Friend's Girl. Oh yeah, there's probably spoilers in here.
Dane Cook is Tank. Why is he called Tank? Because he gets hired by guys who get dumped by their girlfriends, gives them the worst night of their life, and the girl goes crying back to the guy they dumped. He "tanks" the date! Hilarity. Jason Biggs is Dustin, who is Tank's cousin/best friend. He's basically a fucking idiot, who has a "Bate Crate," which is a huge crate filled with porn, Dustin's most prized possession. Kate Hudson is Alexis, the girl that Dustin is going out with.
Movies starts with Tank going on a date with this chick. He's a dick the whole time, which is almost funny. She hates him, and calls her boyfriend wanting to get back together. Boyfriend is sitting in a bar with Tank, and hands him a wad of bills. Tank leaves, but gets stopped by the boyfriend, who is with another chick! Oh my goodness. Tank dissaproves. Character development! Tank gets home, where he and Dustin talk (they're roommates). Dustin says he loves his girlfriend Alexis, and is going to tell her. Tank says don't do it. Dustin is going to anyway.
So Dustin and Alexis go on a date, where Dustin is basically just an idiot, which will turn out to be his defining characteristic, next to him being a porn-a-holic. Dustin tells her that he loves her, and she freaks out. They've only been going out five weeks! Oh Dustin, you simpleton! She leaves him hanging. Dustin goes home, complains about the date, and asks Tank to work his magic with her. Tank says no, because he don't do family. Dustin says ok, takes his porn box, and enjoys the rest of his night. The next day, Dustin sees Alexis flirting with some guy at work. He flips out, calls Tank, and tells him to do it. The roller coaster of bullshit begins.
Tank starts off by meeting Alexis in the park while she's running. He trips and falls, gaining her sympathy and her number. They're going on a date. However, the night of the date, Alexis gets shit-hammered. While out, Tank tries all of his moves, but she's too drunk to be phased. At the end, she calls her roommate to talk about him, and she tells Alexis to hump him. Alexis throws the offer at Tank, who declines. Why? Because it turns out he has feelings for her! Plot development! Meanwhile, Tanks antics work, as Alexis calls Dustin, and they agree to have dinner the next day. During that dinner, Dustin is an idiot, and Alexis thinks they should take some time apart, because she basically never gets to have any fun. He says ok. He then goes behind Tanks back to set them up on a date! Oh no! Tank doesn't want to, because he's trying to keep Dustin's best interest at heart. But he does it anyway.
Now we get to see what Tank does for a living. Apparently he works at some sort of tech-help call center, where he plays old Nintendo games, because he is so retro. Also, I guess he gives seminars? In any case, he gives a speech to a group about how to deal with customers. He tells his assistant (?) to give him a real angry caller, which he will put on speaker phone for the group to hear. It's Alexis on the phone! But he doesn't know, so she yells at him about the horrible date, but never actually mentions that it was a date, so Tank is hilariously oblivious, until the end, when she mocks him for giving up a shot at free sex. Ohhhhhhh the hilarity. Tank goes to her apartment, and they argue, which, naturally, leads to them boning. Duh.
Tank and Dustin have a talk, where Tank tries to tell him to just let her go. Dustin doesn't want to, but he's decided that it's ok if they are total BFFs. So, now we see Dustin doing all sorts of kooky, hilariously nice things for Alexis. However, since Tank is such a nice guy and a totally good friend to Dusty, he bangs the ever loving shit out of Alexis while Dustin is treating her to presents and food. What a good friend and cousin Tank is. Eventually, Tank decides he's going to help Dusty get himself some poon, so they go to a barber to get him all spruced up. Dustin wants the girl cutting his hair to trim his uni-brow (hahah), when Tank says something which suprises him. He turns his head suddenly, and the girl shaves off his eye brow! AHAHEHAHEHAH To try to even it out, they have Dustin shave off the other one! Ha-ha-larious! The laughs just never stop. Because they'd have to start first. Now Dustin goes on a date, and has painted on eye brows. The girl he's taking out is a mother, and when he sees her, she's breast feeding her baby. Dustin, trying to be super smooth, look at her and says, "I'll have what he's having." Get it?! He wants to suck on her boob! EAHEAHEHAEHAEHAAA! God, I fucking hate this movie.
So, now that the date is ruined, Dustin runs to Alexis' apartment. The roommate tells him it's a bad time because she's with someone. He goes to go up to her room, when... ... ... ALEXIS COMES RIDING PIGGY BACK ON TANK DOWN THE STAIRS! Oh shit! Of course, Dustin is a little pissed, since he didn't know she was with Tank. They both go to leave through the front door at the same time, and they get stuck for a second because the doorway isn't big enough for two people! Oh, the chuckles flow freely even during a dramatic moment! Dustin tells Tank he is to get the hell out of his apartment by the morning. What a dick! So, Tank lives in his car, because that asshole Dustin over-reacted when he found out he was humping the girl he very openly has feelings for. Some people, am I right?
Now we meet Tank's dad, played by Alec Baldwin. He gives seminars to women about being empowered or whatever. But, wait a minute, he's a womanizing dickwad, just like Tank! Double the laughs! That's really all you need to know about Tank's dad. Oh, he also has a young, smoking babe of an ass-istant that he humps. This movie has something for every body!
The rest of the movie just dissolves into a whirlwind of bullshit. Tank takes Alexis to a high school prom, which is odd, since they both appear to be in their mid-30s. I guess you can do that when you're TANK. Alexis decides to call Dustin, only because she wanted him to help her pick out a dress for her sisters wedding. Instead of inviting him, she invites Tank. PLOT TWIST! Remember the guy from the beginning of the movie? That had Tank give the chick a horrible date, and then the boyfriend left with another chick? He's marrying Alexis' sister! OH NO! He threatens to expose Tank if Tank exposes him. D-R-A-M-A. Tank does not approve. Meanwhile, off in the distance, a storm is brewing. Alexis' sister is the one that Tank went on the date with! She tells Alexis all about it, but it's ok, because Alexis loves Tank. Awww. Tank over hears this, and has a moment of reflection in the bathroom, where he decides that it's in her best interest if she is not with him.
It is at this point that the only almost funny parts of the movie kick in. If you've seen the trailer, it highlights this part. Tank basically goes around and just acts a complete fool all over this wedding, insulting a priest and a rabbi, interrupting the married couples dance just to throw up on the dance floor, drops some old lady while helping hoist her up in a chair, and shows Alexis' mom his wiener. Sadly, it took the movie almost an hour and 20 minutes to almost make me smirk. Eventually Dustin shows up to crash the wedding, and tells everyone all about Tank. This is when Alexis learns that Tank goes out with chicks just to make their boyfriends look good. What's gonna happen next in this tornado of emotions?
Now, at the end of the movie, Tank, his dad, and Dustin are sitting on top of some building having drinks, which makes no sense, because Dustin hates Tank, unless I didn't pay attention for a few minutes and they made up. Anyway, Dustin now gives Tank full permission to go after Alexis (???), but Tank doesn't know if he should. Three months later, Tank is having dinner with some chick. Alexis walks in, splashes wine in his face, they get into a huge fight, and, of course, they wind up basically humping right in the middle of the restaurant. Aww, I knew those two crazy kids were gonna make it!
I hear you saying, "But what happened to Dustin?" Let me tell you. He is hanging out with Tank's dad at a bar, who is apparently giving him dating advice. So, he goes up to a chick to talk to her. Which chick? Alexis' roommate! They go back to a bedroom. Alexis' roommate warns him that she's not normal. "Why's that" he asks. She produces a back pack, and dumps about 50 economy sized dildos on the bed. How does Dustin respond? Why, by dumping his 'Bate Crate on the bed! The perfect couple! The Porn Czar and the Dildo Queen! Happy ending all across the board!
I've seen some just bad movies in my day. I've sat through Queen of the Damned, Van Wilder, Death Proof, Rock Horror Picture Show, etc. This one was just on another level. And the fact that it made $40 million worldwide just makes me sad. What this movie is saying is that if you're good looking, you can be a complete and utter dick to a girl, and she'll still like you. If I'm wrong, I really want someone to correct me, because that is all I got from that movie. On a scale of 1-10, I give it a Dog-Turd-Covered-In-Cat-Vomit. Horrible acting, story is an abomination, you have to see Dane Cook's bare ass, and it's just a huge nail in the coffin of Alec Baldwin's career.
I can't really say why I decided to go and watch My Best Friend's Girl when it came out in the theater. The only logical conclusion I can make is that I wanted to see if he can do a good movie. If he can, this sure as hell isn't it. I hated it almost immediately, but since I paid almost $20 to see the damn thing, I stuck it out. Probably the worst movie I've ever seen. Easily the worst comedy I've seen, barely beating out Van Wilder (I'll probably do an entry on Ryan Renyolds at some point). Yesterday, I watched it again, and took notes so I can write about it here. So, without further ado, here is My Best Friend's Girl. Oh yeah, there's probably spoilers in here.
Dane Cook is Tank. Why is he called Tank? Because he gets hired by guys who get dumped by their girlfriends, gives them the worst night of their life, and the girl goes crying back to the guy they dumped. He "tanks" the date! Hilarity. Jason Biggs is Dustin, who is Tank's cousin/best friend. He's basically a fucking idiot, who has a "Bate Crate," which is a huge crate filled with porn, Dustin's most prized possession. Kate Hudson is Alexis, the girl that Dustin is going out with.
Movies starts with Tank going on a date with this chick. He's a dick the whole time, which is almost funny. She hates him, and calls her boyfriend wanting to get back together. Boyfriend is sitting in a bar with Tank, and hands him a wad of bills. Tank leaves, but gets stopped by the boyfriend, who is with another chick! Oh my goodness. Tank dissaproves. Character development! Tank gets home, where he and Dustin talk (they're roommates). Dustin says he loves his girlfriend Alexis, and is going to tell her. Tank says don't do it. Dustin is going to anyway.
So Dustin and Alexis go on a date, where Dustin is basically just an idiot, which will turn out to be his defining characteristic, next to him being a porn-a-holic. Dustin tells her that he loves her, and she freaks out. They've only been going out five weeks! Oh Dustin, you simpleton! She leaves him hanging. Dustin goes home, complains about the date, and asks Tank to work his magic with her. Tank says no, because he don't do family. Dustin says ok, takes his porn box, and enjoys the rest of his night. The next day, Dustin sees Alexis flirting with some guy at work. He flips out, calls Tank, and tells him to do it. The roller coaster of bullshit begins.
Tank starts off by meeting Alexis in the park while she's running. He trips and falls, gaining her sympathy and her number. They're going on a date. However, the night of the date, Alexis gets shit-hammered. While out, Tank tries all of his moves, but she's too drunk to be phased. At the end, she calls her roommate to talk about him, and she tells Alexis to hump him. Alexis throws the offer at Tank, who declines. Why? Because it turns out he has feelings for her! Plot development! Meanwhile, Tanks antics work, as Alexis calls Dustin, and they agree to have dinner the next day. During that dinner, Dustin is an idiot, and Alexis thinks they should take some time apart, because she basically never gets to have any fun. He says ok. He then goes behind Tanks back to set them up on a date! Oh no! Tank doesn't want to, because he's trying to keep Dustin's best interest at heart. But he does it anyway.
Now we get to see what Tank does for a living. Apparently he works at some sort of tech-help call center, where he plays old Nintendo games, because he is so retro. Also, I guess he gives seminars? In any case, he gives a speech to a group about how to deal with customers. He tells his assistant (?) to give him a real angry caller, which he will put on speaker phone for the group to hear. It's Alexis on the phone! But he doesn't know, so she yells at him about the horrible date, but never actually mentions that it was a date, so Tank is hilariously oblivious, until the end, when she mocks him for giving up a shot at free sex. Ohhhhhhh the hilarity. Tank goes to her apartment, and they argue, which, naturally, leads to them boning. Duh.
Tank and Dustin have a talk, where Tank tries to tell him to just let her go. Dustin doesn't want to, but he's decided that it's ok if they are total BFFs. So, now we see Dustin doing all sorts of kooky, hilariously nice things for Alexis. However, since Tank is such a nice guy and a totally good friend to Dusty, he bangs the ever loving shit out of Alexis while Dustin is treating her to presents and food. What a good friend and cousin Tank is. Eventually, Tank decides he's going to help Dusty get himself some poon, so they go to a barber to get him all spruced up. Dustin wants the girl cutting his hair to trim his uni-brow (hahah), when Tank says something which suprises him. He turns his head suddenly, and the girl shaves off his eye brow! AHAHEHAHEHAH To try to even it out, they have Dustin shave off the other one! Ha-ha-larious! The laughs just never stop. Because they'd have to start first. Now Dustin goes on a date, and has painted on eye brows. The girl he's taking out is a mother, and when he sees her, she's breast feeding her baby. Dustin, trying to be super smooth, look at her and says, "I'll have what he's having." Get it?! He wants to suck on her boob! EAHEAHEHAEHAEHAAA! God, I fucking hate this movie.
So, now that the date is ruined, Dustin runs to Alexis' apartment. The roommate tells him it's a bad time because she's with someone. He goes to go up to her room, when... ... ... ALEXIS COMES RIDING PIGGY BACK ON TANK DOWN THE STAIRS! Oh shit! Of course, Dustin is a little pissed, since he didn't know she was with Tank. They both go to leave through the front door at the same time, and they get stuck for a second because the doorway isn't big enough for two people! Oh, the chuckles flow freely even during a dramatic moment! Dustin tells Tank he is to get the hell out of his apartment by the morning. What a dick! So, Tank lives in his car, because that asshole Dustin over-reacted when he found out he was humping the girl he very openly has feelings for. Some people, am I right?
Now we meet Tank's dad, played by Alec Baldwin. He gives seminars to women about being empowered or whatever. But, wait a minute, he's a womanizing dickwad, just like Tank! Double the laughs! That's really all you need to know about Tank's dad. Oh, he also has a young, smoking babe of an ass-istant that he humps. This movie has something for every body!
The rest of the movie just dissolves into a whirlwind of bullshit. Tank takes Alexis to a high school prom, which is odd, since they both appear to be in their mid-30s. I guess you can do that when you're TANK. Alexis decides to call Dustin, only because she wanted him to help her pick out a dress for her sisters wedding. Instead of inviting him, she invites Tank. PLOT TWIST! Remember the guy from the beginning of the movie? That had Tank give the chick a horrible date, and then the boyfriend left with another chick? He's marrying Alexis' sister! OH NO! He threatens to expose Tank if Tank exposes him. D-R-A-M-A. Tank does not approve. Meanwhile, off in the distance, a storm is brewing. Alexis' sister is the one that Tank went on the date with! She tells Alexis all about it, but it's ok, because Alexis loves Tank. Awww. Tank over hears this, and has a moment of reflection in the bathroom, where he decides that it's in her best interest if she is not with him.
It is at this point that the only almost funny parts of the movie kick in. If you've seen the trailer, it highlights this part. Tank basically goes around and just acts a complete fool all over this wedding, insulting a priest and a rabbi, interrupting the married couples dance just to throw up on the dance floor, drops some old lady while helping hoist her up in a chair, and shows Alexis' mom his wiener. Sadly, it took the movie almost an hour and 20 minutes to almost make me smirk. Eventually Dustin shows up to crash the wedding, and tells everyone all about Tank. This is when Alexis learns that Tank goes out with chicks just to make their boyfriends look good. What's gonna happen next in this tornado of emotions?
Now, at the end of the movie, Tank, his dad, and Dustin are sitting on top of some building having drinks, which makes no sense, because Dustin hates Tank, unless I didn't pay attention for a few minutes and they made up. Anyway, Dustin now gives Tank full permission to go after Alexis (???), but Tank doesn't know if he should. Three months later, Tank is having dinner with some chick. Alexis walks in, splashes wine in his face, they get into a huge fight, and, of course, they wind up basically humping right in the middle of the restaurant. Aww, I knew those two crazy kids were gonna make it!
I hear you saying, "But what happened to Dustin?" Let me tell you. He is hanging out with Tank's dad at a bar, who is apparently giving him dating advice. So, he goes up to a chick to talk to her. Which chick? Alexis' roommate! They go back to a bedroom. Alexis' roommate warns him that she's not normal. "Why's that" he asks. She produces a back pack, and dumps about 50 economy sized dildos on the bed. How does Dustin respond? Why, by dumping his 'Bate Crate on the bed! The perfect couple! The Porn Czar and the Dildo Queen! Happy ending all across the board!
I've seen some just bad movies in my day. I've sat through Queen of the Damned, Van Wilder, Death Proof, Rock Horror Picture Show, etc. This one was just on another level. And the fact that it made $40 million worldwide just makes me sad. What this movie is saying is that if you're good looking, you can be a complete and utter dick to a girl, and she'll still like you. If I'm wrong, I really want someone to correct me, because that is all I got from that movie. On a scale of 1-10, I give it a Dog-Turd-Covered-In-Cat-Vomit. Horrible acting, story is an abomination, you have to see Dane Cook's bare ass, and it's just a huge nail in the coffin of Alec Baldwin's career.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Buck Takes Requests! : Blue Waffle (pretty damn gross)
When I asked my friends for ideas for a blog post, I really should have known better, but that's what I get for having the friends that I have. So, for the first entry in the Buck Takes Requests series, I have to do Blue Waffle.
Blue Waffle is a combination of terms. "Waffle" is a slang term for vagina, and "Blue Waffle" is a term for a horrible abomination that has taken over the vagina. They're not sure if this is an actual disease, or just something some advertising agency came up with to sell condoms and other forms of birth control. Either way, it shares many traits with "vaginitis." Since I don't want this blog to be removed for having nasty shit on it, I'll just post a link to a picture of it.
WARNING! It's nasty, and of a vagina, so click if you want, but don't blame me for what your lunch tastes like after it comes back up. Not Safe For Work, yada yada...
http://bluewaffle.biz/blue_waffle.jpg
HOW DO YOU GET "BLUE WAFFLE?"
Since Blue Waffle is an STD, you would get it like any other STD: unprotected sex, many partners, not washing frequently enough, etc. Some also believe that a weak immune system can help it along. Other causes are believed to be "high level of stress, poor diet, the type of your underwear; further more, contributing factors may also include a lack of lubrication while having sex, abrasion, or other irritating activity inside a vagina." They haven't really pinpointed an exact cause of this ungodly hell-beast, so there are still more theories than actual fact at this point.
SYMPTOMS
Symptoms can be, but aren't limited to, vaginal itching and inflammation, odd-colored and odd-smelling discharge, and odd coloring of the vagina, usually a blue or purple color. These are similar to the symptoms of vaginitis, so it's apparently easy to confuse the two.
Like I said, it's not really known if this is an actual disease or just some advertising ploy. However, for the two females that actually read my crap, if you see any of these symptoms you need to: 1) Stop being a whore 2) Go get it checked. That looks like an alien took a shit on fun bits. Us guys are terrified of that area enough to begin with, so get it fixed before you scare some poor guy to death with whatever Blue Waffle is.
Blue Waffle is a combination of terms. "Waffle" is a slang term for vagina, and "Blue Waffle" is a term for a horrible abomination that has taken over the vagina. They're not sure if this is an actual disease, or just something some advertising agency came up with to sell condoms and other forms of birth control. Either way, it shares many traits with "vaginitis." Since I don't want this blog to be removed for having nasty shit on it, I'll just post a link to a picture of it.
WARNING! It's nasty, and of a vagina, so click if you want, but don't blame me for what your lunch tastes like after it comes back up. Not Safe For Work, yada yada...
http://bluewaffle.biz/blue_waffle.jpg
HOW DO YOU GET "BLUE WAFFLE?"
Since Blue Waffle is an STD, you would get it like any other STD: unprotected sex, many partners, not washing frequently enough, etc. Some also believe that a weak immune system can help it along. Other causes are believed to be "high level of stress, poor diet, the type of your underwear; further more, contributing factors may also include a lack of lubrication while having sex, abrasion, or other irritating activity inside a vagina." They haven't really pinpointed an exact cause of this ungodly hell-beast, so there are still more theories than actual fact at this point.
SYMPTOMS
Symptoms can be, but aren't limited to, vaginal itching and inflammation, odd-colored and odd-smelling discharge, and odd coloring of the vagina, usually a blue or purple color. These are similar to the symptoms of vaginitis, so it's apparently easy to confuse the two.
Like I said, it's not really known if this is an actual disease or just some advertising ploy. However, for the two females that actually read my crap, if you see any of these symptoms you need to: 1) Stop being a whore 2) Go get it checked. That looks like an alien took a shit on fun bits. Us guys are terrified of that area enough to begin with, so get it fixed before you scare some poor guy to death with whatever Blue Waffle is.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Buck Faces his Ultimate Test
In his life, every man will come upon a crossroad. He spends his entire life up to that moment preparing himself mentally and physically. It is his ultimate test of willpower, fortitude, and endurance. I have spent the past 10+ years browsing the Internet in hopes of seeing every single horrible act. I've seen countless BMXers nut themselves on rails. I've seen a near unlimited amount of vomit, urine, semen, blood, and fecal matter countless varieties. I've discovered fetishes that I can't even fathom. I believe I have seen the worst the Internet can throw at me. I've witnessed what happens when a man sticks his penis inside the penis of another man. I've seen man stick his head (the one on top of his shoulders) fully inside the gaping maw-like vagina of a woman. I believe I was the first among my group of friends to discover Goatse and Tub Girl, back before they were cool things. I have sat through 2 Girls 1 Cup, and it didn't phase me. I watched the entire 1hr 30min long hurricane of fluids that is SWAP.avi, and that didn't even bother me. I've even sat through most of an episode of America's Next Top Model without killing myself. After witnessing everything that I have on the Internet, I believed myself to be impervious to pain. I got cocky. I felt invincible. Nothing could phase me.
So as I came across my Crossroads, I blew it off. I didn't feel that a shitty TV show could top anything the Internet has to offer. I mean, come on. What do you think could possibly make me cringe if cartoon drawings of girls with shitting dick-nipples can't? Not even in my league. But my opponent kept daring me. Challenging my manhood. Telling me I wouldn't last one episode. Making fun of my mother. Who do a bunch of douches from Jersey Shore think they are? So, I find a site that has episodes of The Jersey Shore. I sat back and watched a few episodes of the first season.
A month or so down the line, I have watched about half of the first season, and the entire second season of Jersey Shore. Everyone kept asking me "Why? Why would you watch that show? You know it's going to be horrible." You people have no idea. I had to make sure I know why this show is as popular, and also as hated, as is. So, here we go.
Jersey Shore is the single greatest train wreck that you will ever see. For those that might not know, they stick four of the bitchiest, sluttiest drama queens in the same house four of the douche-baggiest, fake tanned, jerk offs you'll ever see. It is a perfect mixture for comedy. I put it up on the same level as 2 Girls 1 Cup, in that once you start watching, you can't stop. It's horrible in every way, and you want to run, but you can't. Morbid curiosity drives you to keep watching. Every single person on this show is a piece of shit in their own way. Let's run down the cast:
First, we have Mike "The Situation." This guy is incredible. The best way I can think to describe him would be to transcribe what happened during an exchange he had with some skank in a club:
SKANK: I'm from Canada!
MIKE: Oh? "lifts his shirt, points to his abs"
I'm not making any of that up. That is the exact thing that happened. I laughed for 10 minutes, thinking there is no way he could have been serious. That is The Situation in action at all times. When working at the ice cream shop in season two, he would stand outside shirtless to attract customers, and he got upset and confused when it didn't work. He also considers himself to be the head of the household, and in charge of telling everyone when they are to leave the club to go home, which leads to one of Mike's best moments, when he slaps Snooki in the mouth because she doesn't want to leave. Mike also get's roid-ragey when he can't get any skanks to sleep with him.
Next we have Pauly D. He's a DJ that looks like a damn shark. He travels with a duffel bag filled with hair gel and spray tan. He is pretty much hell bent on drilling his pierced junk into whatever open wound stumbles in front of him. For the most part, he just wants to get laid, and loves informing the house about important events, such as "T-Shirt Time" and when "the cab is here!" His best moment was when he absolutely flipped shit on Angelina after she slapped him. I so wanted him to punch her, but apparently he's not that big of a piece of shit. Darn it. Basically, Pauly is a loud dumbass that I'm sure has an impressive amount of STD's.
Vinny...doesn't do much. I think he's the youngest of the group, which almost gives him a pass to act like a dip shit. He is the only one that almost makes sense. He was smart enough to avoid almost all of the drama that happened. He is credited with railing Snooki more times than anyone else, which is good for him? He is also the master of fist-pumping. Towards the end of Season Two, he and Angelina wanted to kill each other. They HATED each other. Two episodes later they're humpin'. Over all, Vinny just looks like a dumbass wigger that likes to have sex with Oompa-Loompa's.
Jennifer "Tits" is simply titties. She loves ham. Basically brain dead. She either almost fights or actually does fight every chick but Snooki, and even those two almost came to blows. She had a boyfriend in both seasons, I think the same guy. The first season saw her cheat on him with Pauly, which is where we, thank God, learn about his pierced junk. Second season he came to visit, and found the number of a guy he specifically told her not to call. Surprise, he got pissed, but she used her tits to lure him back. She is almost always half of the drama in the house. She and Snooki form a perfect tag-team of bitchy back-stabbing. With her around, there is always a chance of a fist fight.
Snooki is possibly the dumbest creature. Period. She spent the first episode drunk and trying to get one of the guys to fuck her, and then crying because everyone thought she was a fat hooker. Later some big dude fucking blasted her in the face. She spends most of season two banging Vinny. She really loves pickles. Most of her dialogue involves just random noises. Mike smacks her, which starts all sorts of hilarious drama between those two. She sleeps until roughly 9pm every night. And her vagina just winds up exposed randomly.
Angelina is the key point of drama in the show. She didn't last very long in the first season because when she was supposed to go work at the T-Shirt shop they all worked at, she decided that she's too important for that, and just didn't go. So the boss tracks her down, yells at her, she yells back some self-important shit, and then she gets kicked out. Season two, she tries to be good, which lasts about two episodes. Then she flips on Pauly for trying to have sex with a married woman, which causes Pauly to flip and almost punch her. She also got into a fist fight with Snooki, which was hilarious. She spent most of her time making sure shit was constantly being stirred.
The last two have to be introduced together, because they aren't worth shit separately. Ronnie and Sammi are the best couple ever. Ronnie is a roided up dumbass and Sammi is just too damn dumb to know what to do without his shriveled up wiener. They got together in season one, then broke up. Got back together in season two, and somehow made it work. They'd all go out to the club, Ronnie would get drunk, call Sammi a dumb bitch, Sammi would cry and go home. Ron would make out with chicks, and then go home to hump Sammi. OH SNAP DRAMA because no one told Sammi about the chicks Ron was with while he was with her. Season two focused around Ron cheating on Sammi, and everyone besides Sammi knowing about it. The other girls in the house typed up a note, and hid it in Sammi's drawer. When she found out, all sorts of not much happened. So much fail. They all kinda argued a little, and then Ron and Sam got back together. Fucking idiots can't even give a decent drama-show with weeks of build up.
I was going to write more, but I'm tired. All you have to know is that Jersey Shore is the biggest ball of fail that has ever happened. Everyone on the show, with the possible exception on Vinny, is a sweltering pool of STD's and ignorance, and god dammit, I can't help but watch. The saddest part is that their key demographic age is 12-34. That's right, fucking 12. This show just proves that our country is the worst country on the planet. People are starving to death as I type this, but these jack-offs are making $10,000 an episode each. I hope we get bombed into the stone age, because we deserve it. This shit is one of the hottest shows right now. It's either because of people like me, who love to see failure in action, or because ignorant people actually think it's something cool. I weep for us as a country, and simultaneously wish for our demise.
So as I came across my Crossroads, I blew it off. I didn't feel that a shitty TV show could top anything the Internet has to offer. I mean, come on. What do you think could possibly make me cringe if cartoon drawings of girls with shitting dick-nipples can't? Not even in my league. But my opponent kept daring me. Challenging my manhood. Telling me I wouldn't last one episode. Making fun of my mother. Who do a bunch of douches from Jersey Shore think they are? So, I find a site that has episodes of The Jersey Shore. I sat back and watched a few episodes of the first season.
A month or so down the line, I have watched about half of the first season, and the entire second season of Jersey Shore. Everyone kept asking me "Why? Why would you watch that show? You know it's going to be horrible." You people have no idea. I had to make sure I know why this show is as popular, and also as hated, as is. So, here we go.
Jersey Shore is the single greatest train wreck that you will ever see. For those that might not know, they stick four of the bitchiest, sluttiest drama queens in the same house four of the douche-baggiest, fake tanned, jerk offs you'll ever see. It is a perfect mixture for comedy. I put it up on the same level as 2 Girls 1 Cup, in that once you start watching, you can't stop. It's horrible in every way, and you want to run, but you can't. Morbid curiosity drives you to keep watching. Every single person on this show is a piece of shit in their own way. Let's run down the cast:
First, we have Mike "The Situation." This guy is incredible. The best way I can think to describe him would be to transcribe what happened during an exchange he had with some skank in a club:
SKANK: I'm from Canada!
MIKE: Oh? "lifts his shirt, points to his abs"
I'm not making any of that up. That is the exact thing that happened. I laughed for 10 minutes, thinking there is no way he could have been serious. That is The Situation in action at all times. When working at the ice cream shop in season two, he would stand outside shirtless to attract customers, and he got upset and confused when it didn't work. He also considers himself to be the head of the household, and in charge of telling everyone when they are to leave the club to go home, which leads to one of Mike's best moments, when he slaps Snooki in the mouth because she doesn't want to leave. Mike also get's roid-ragey when he can't get any skanks to sleep with him.
Next we have Pauly D. He's a DJ that looks like a damn shark. He travels with a duffel bag filled with hair gel and spray tan. He is pretty much hell bent on drilling his pierced junk into whatever open wound stumbles in front of him. For the most part, he just wants to get laid, and loves informing the house about important events, such as "T-Shirt Time" and when "the cab is here!" His best moment was when he absolutely flipped shit on Angelina after she slapped him. I so wanted him to punch her, but apparently he's not that big of a piece of shit. Darn it. Basically, Pauly is a loud dumbass that I'm sure has an impressive amount of STD's.
Vinny...doesn't do much. I think he's the youngest of the group, which almost gives him a pass to act like a dip shit. He is the only one that almost makes sense. He was smart enough to avoid almost all of the drama that happened. He is credited with railing Snooki more times than anyone else, which is good for him? He is also the master of fist-pumping. Towards the end of Season Two, he and Angelina wanted to kill each other. They HATED each other. Two episodes later they're humpin'. Over all, Vinny just looks like a dumbass wigger that likes to have sex with Oompa-Loompa's.
Jennifer "Tits" is simply titties. She loves ham. Basically brain dead. She either almost fights or actually does fight every chick but Snooki, and even those two almost came to blows. She had a boyfriend in both seasons, I think the same guy. The first season saw her cheat on him with Pauly, which is where we, thank God, learn about his pierced junk. Second season he came to visit, and found the number of a guy he specifically told her not to call. Surprise, he got pissed, but she used her tits to lure him back. She is almost always half of the drama in the house. She and Snooki form a perfect tag-team of bitchy back-stabbing. With her around, there is always a chance of a fist fight.
Snooki is possibly the dumbest creature. Period. She spent the first episode drunk and trying to get one of the guys to fuck her, and then crying because everyone thought she was a fat hooker. Later some big dude fucking blasted her in the face. She spends most of season two banging Vinny. She really loves pickles. Most of her dialogue involves just random noises. Mike smacks her, which starts all sorts of hilarious drama between those two. She sleeps until roughly 9pm every night. And her vagina just winds up exposed randomly.
Angelina is the key point of drama in the show. She didn't last very long in the first season because when she was supposed to go work at the T-Shirt shop they all worked at, she decided that she's too important for that, and just didn't go. So the boss tracks her down, yells at her, she yells back some self-important shit, and then she gets kicked out. Season two, she tries to be good, which lasts about two episodes. Then she flips on Pauly for trying to have sex with a married woman, which causes Pauly to flip and almost punch her. She also got into a fist fight with Snooki, which was hilarious. She spent most of her time making sure shit was constantly being stirred.
The last two have to be introduced together, because they aren't worth shit separately. Ronnie and Sammi are the best couple ever. Ronnie is a roided up dumbass and Sammi is just too damn dumb to know what to do without his shriveled up wiener. They got together in season one, then broke up. Got back together in season two, and somehow made it work. They'd all go out to the club, Ronnie would get drunk, call Sammi a dumb bitch, Sammi would cry and go home. Ron would make out with chicks, and then go home to hump Sammi. OH SNAP DRAMA because no one told Sammi about the chicks Ron was with while he was with her. Season two focused around Ron cheating on Sammi, and everyone besides Sammi knowing about it. The other girls in the house typed up a note, and hid it in Sammi's drawer. When she found out, all sorts of not much happened. So much fail. They all kinda argued a little, and then Ron and Sam got back together. Fucking idiots can't even give a decent drama-show with weeks of build up.
I was going to write more, but I'm tired. All you have to know is that Jersey Shore is the biggest ball of fail that has ever happened. Everyone on the show, with the possible exception on Vinny, is a sweltering pool of STD's and ignorance, and god dammit, I can't help but watch. The saddest part is that their key demographic age is 12-34. That's right, fucking 12. This show just proves that our country is the worst country on the planet. People are starving to death as I type this, but these jack-offs are making $10,000 an episode each. I hope we get bombed into the stone age, because we deserve it. This shit is one of the hottest shows right now. It's either because of people like me, who love to see failure in action, or because ignorant people actually think it's something cool. I weep for us as a country, and simultaneously wish for our demise.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Buck vs. Jagermeister
Usually, on the two nights a year I decide to drink, I stick with my sissy drinks. Smirnoff, Mike's Hard Lemon-aid, drinks like that. Not because I'm a big girl and can't handle booze, but because they taste really damn good, and beer tastes god awful. However, every now and then, I'll get that wild hair up my ass. I'll scan the room, and low and behold! There's that dark green bottle of liquid Hell: JAGERMEISTER. I'll think to myself "Dustin, you have to work in the near future. You really should stay away from that." Then my balls will chip in "Fuck you brain! JAAAGGERRRR!!" My brain will step to the side, because he knows that eventually I'll be throwing up for a couple of hours, pass out, and wish I had listened in the morning.
When I usually drink Jager, I'll have fun for about an hour, then I vomit for three hours, and go home to pass out. But, on one special night, I was there for fuckin' business. Now, before I begin this tale, I should say that what happened on this night might have actually happened on a different night. I have no idea. Either both nights were basically identical, or I completely blacked out one of them. Either way, in my brain lies a combination of the two, that's the story I remember, and the story I will share. I don't care if it's correct.
We were having a part at The Trailer either for no reason, or because my buddy Daniel had come back from his Army duty, or he was about to leave for duty. Either way, we were partying, and everyone was to get drunk. Somehow, a fucking liter of Jager showed up. My balls tell my brain to shut the fuck up, and I move in. Daniel sits down with the bottle. I saddle up beside him. Shot glasses appear. We look each other in the eyes, give each other a knowing nod, and just start slamming them down. At this point I should state that I'm not much of a drinker. I can hold an average amount of my Smirnoffs, unless I decide I have to wrestle someone. I usually get sick after about four or five Jager shots. Not on this night. Daniel can out drink me on any night, and I have no illusions that I can compete with him. But on this night, my balls were battle ready. When I stopped, I believe I had someone in the area of 12 Jager shots, all within...30 minutes? An hour? I have no idea. I had no working knowledge of time. Dan was somewhere around 15-20. We're both giggling dipshits. To say we were drunk would be incorrect. I was on a different plane of existence. Thankfully, Dan got up to stumble around, mingling with everyone else that was there. I decided to sit and try not to die.
It is about this time that my buddy Josh shows up. He sees me sitting down in front of the Jager bottle, and sits across from me. He reminds me that he was in martial arts with me. I make a noise that resembles agreeing. He says that we need to drink some Jager. I beg to differ. He says that we need to drink to our warrior spirits, that we need to drink to the spirit of martial arts. For some damn reason, I saw this as a challenge to my manhood. My balls will not tolerate some white belt trying to one-up me. THIS WILL NOT STAND! So, because I am smart, I ORDER him to pour me a shot. I down that sum bitch, and slam the glass on the table. "Another!" I proclaim! I slam that bastard down as well.
My brain was sitting back, watching this. My brain had been sending me subtle hints for a while now that I really need to stop. When I took that second shot, my brain told my eyes to give me the final warning. Everything was spinning rapidly, but I was sitting down, so I didn't feel any threat. However, when I grabbed my 15th or so shot of the night, my third in roughly a minute, my brain was officially tired of my shit. My last memory of that night was bringing that shot up to my lips.
I came to in the bathroom the next morning, confused and in a little pain. I was directly across from the toilet, there was vomit in the tub, and I had rug burn on both of my elbows. My first clear thought was that I wanted a cigarette, but couldn't find my smokes. I then decided that I needed to go to sleep. I get up, go into the living room. John is passed out on one couch, and Josh is passed out in a chair. I thought about punching Josh, but instead I fell over onto the second couch. I was in the process of passing back out, when I heard Josh get up. I watched him as he stumbled over next to the couch I was laying in. I watch him unzip and unbutton his pants. My brain sends me warning signals that I might want to get out of the way. I see Josh's hands go into his pants, and begin the motions of pulling his member out. I realize I am in no shape to flee, so opt to just try to roll over into the cushions of the couch, hoping he will miss me, because he is definitely going to pee on me. I second or two later, I look back, wondering where the pee is. Josh didn't pull it out, but he is pissing all over himself. He sits back down, passes back out, and I giggle my ass off. I guess my laughter woke John up. He suggested that we call someone to take us to get food. That is the best idea I've ever heard. The call is made, we get picked up, and off to food!
As I get into the bright light, I regret every bad decision I've ever made. I've never been hung over before. I've heard tales, but I thought that they were just exaggerated. It was awful. Very few times in my life have I been more miserable. Anyway. We get to the restaurant. I order a chicken strip basket with fries, thinking surely I can eat at least the fries. I managed to stomach down one (1) fry, and I had to force it down. I also had to go to the bathroom, because eating that one fry almost made me throw up. We go back to the trailer, and I pass out. I was hung over, literally, all damn day. I worked over nights at the time, and didn't get over my hangover until around 3am the next morning. After that night, I vowed to never drink that much ever again. So far, I have managed to do so. So, if you ever see me boozing it up, and I'm nice and drunk, if you want to see me try to kill myself via hooch, just challenge my manhood. I am all that is MAN, and my drunk ass will prove it to you by throwing up and being a whiny bitch the entire next day.
When I usually drink Jager, I'll have fun for about an hour, then I vomit for three hours, and go home to pass out. But, on one special night, I was there for fuckin' business. Now, before I begin this tale, I should say that what happened on this night might have actually happened on a different night. I have no idea. Either both nights were basically identical, or I completely blacked out one of them. Either way, in my brain lies a combination of the two, that's the story I remember, and the story I will share. I don't care if it's correct.
We were having a part at The Trailer either for no reason, or because my buddy Daniel had come back from his Army duty, or he was about to leave for duty. Either way, we were partying, and everyone was to get drunk. Somehow, a fucking liter of Jager showed up. My balls tell my brain to shut the fuck up, and I move in. Daniel sits down with the bottle. I saddle up beside him. Shot glasses appear. We look each other in the eyes, give each other a knowing nod, and just start slamming them down. At this point I should state that I'm not much of a drinker. I can hold an average amount of my Smirnoffs, unless I decide I have to wrestle someone. I usually get sick after about four or five Jager shots. Not on this night. Daniel can out drink me on any night, and I have no illusions that I can compete with him. But on this night, my balls were battle ready. When I stopped, I believe I had someone in the area of 12 Jager shots, all within...30 minutes? An hour? I have no idea. I had no working knowledge of time. Dan was somewhere around 15-20. We're both giggling dipshits. To say we were drunk would be incorrect. I was on a different plane of existence. Thankfully, Dan got up to stumble around, mingling with everyone else that was there. I decided to sit and try not to die.
It is about this time that my buddy Josh shows up. He sees me sitting down in front of the Jager bottle, and sits across from me. He reminds me that he was in martial arts with me. I make a noise that resembles agreeing. He says that we need to drink some Jager. I beg to differ. He says that we need to drink to our warrior spirits, that we need to drink to the spirit of martial arts. For some damn reason, I saw this as a challenge to my manhood. My balls will not tolerate some white belt trying to one-up me. THIS WILL NOT STAND! So, because I am smart, I ORDER him to pour me a shot. I down that sum bitch, and slam the glass on the table. "Another!" I proclaim! I slam that bastard down as well.
My brain was sitting back, watching this. My brain had been sending me subtle hints for a while now that I really need to stop. When I took that second shot, my brain told my eyes to give me the final warning. Everything was spinning rapidly, but I was sitting down, so I didn't feel any threat. However, when I grabbed my 15th or so shot of the night, my third in roughly a minute, my brain was officially tired of my shit. My last memory of that night was bringing that shot up to my lips.
I came to in the bathroom the next morning, confused and in a little pain. I was directly across from the toilet, there was vomit in the tub, and I had rug burn on both of my elbows. My first clear thought was that I wanted a cigarette, but couldn't find my smokes. I then decided that I needed to go to sleep. I get up, go into the living room. John is passed out on one couch, and Josh is passed out in a chair. I thought about punching Josh, but instead I fell over onto the second couch. I was in the process of passing back out, when I heard Josh get up. I watched him as he stumbled over next to the couch I was laying in. I watch him unzip and unbutton his pants. My brain sends me warning signals that I might want to get out of the way. I see Josh's hands go into his pants, and begin the motions of pulling his member out. I realize I am in no shape to flee, so opt to just try to roll over into the cushions of the couch, hoping he will miss me, because he is definitely going to pee on me. I second or two later, I look back, wondering where the pee is. Josh didn't pull it out, but he is pissing all over himself. He sits back down, passes back out, and I giggle my ass off. I guess my laughter woke John up. He suggested that we call someone to take us to get food. That is the best idea I've ever heard. The call is made, we get picked up, and off to food!
As I get into the bright light, I regret every bad decision I've ever made. I've never been hung over before. I've heard tales, but I thought that they were just exaggerated. It was awful. Very few times in my life have I been more miserable. Anyway. We get to the restaurant. I order a chicken strip basket with fries, thinking surely I can eat at least the fries. I managed to stomach down one (1) fry, and I had to force it down. I also had to go to the bathroom, because eating that one fry almost made me throw up. We go back to the trailer, and I pass out. I was hung over, literally, all damn day. I worked over nights at the time, and didn't get over my hangover until around 3am the next morning. After that night, I vowed to never drink that much ever again. So far, I have managed to do so. So, if you ever see me boozing it up, and I'm nice and drunk, if you want to see me try to kill myself via hooch, just challenge my manhood. I am all that is MAN, and my drunk ass will prove it to you by throwing up and being a whiny bitch the entire next day.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Buck, the One Night Stand, and Almost Dying (Not in a Sexy Way)
After my high school girlfriend and I split, I went a few years without dating or anything of that nature. Sure, I knew several chicks that I was interested in, but I've always a problem with motivation, so I would just admire them from afar, and it would end at that. However, after a few years, I got all mopey and lonely and other manly emotions. "How did you cure your loneliness?" you ask? Well, by going to the illustrious Yahoo Chat rooms, of course!
Largely uneventful were my ventures in the chat rooms. I met one lady, though. She told me her name was Nicole. Cool. She sent me a picture of herself. She was a little big. Not fatty-fat-fat, but certainly not skinny. Cool. She was also black. Since I'm not a southern plantation owner, I'm cool with that. We chat for a few weeks, and everything is good.
I come home from a bullshit-filled night of work one night, quite tired. That statement is important. My friends are hanging out in my room, watching TV. I jump on the ol' computer, and eventually Nicole and I start chatting. She mentions that her college roommate is out of town. She then says that if I'm not doing anything, I should give her a visit. When I'm tired, I'm horrible at making good decisions. Anyway, I realize that I, in fact, don't have any plans for the night, so of course I take her up on her offer. She only lived about an hour and half away, and I had enough gas to make the trip. I tell her I'm on my way, and she tells me to meet her at the McDonalds. My friends ask where I'm going, and I just smile and say I'll be back tomorrow. If they weren't so busy laughing, I'm sure we would've been high-fiving.
I arrive at the McDonalds, give her a call, and after a few minutes she arrives. As soon as she stepped out of her car, a few things occurred to me:
At this point, I may have to remind anyone reading this that I swear to God I'm not racist. So when I heard this, I immediately thought, "There is no way that is your name. You're a -Nay-Nay away from being a cast member on "Martin." There is no way I can call her that with a straight face."
We get back to her room. I assume it's a standard-sized dorm room. A bed on either side of the room, TV on another side, with a computer desk across from the TV. What I thought was weird was the height of the beds. They seriously came up to roughly my mid-chest. This immediately became hilarious as I watched Shaniqua climb onto a chair, and literally roll onto the bed. I should also say that when I'm tired, everything is hilarious. So when I saw her heft herself onto the bed, I had to muster every single ounce of self-control in my body to not erupt in a volcano of laughter. I manage to survive my laugh-attack, and I jump up on the bed. She's impressed that I didn't have to use the chair. I smile.
She turns on the TV, and flips through the channels. She flips past "Married...with Children." I get excited, and tell her to turn it back. Since she is actually a very nice person, she does so without a word of objection. I become entranced in watching it, since I hadn't watched TV in a while, and "Married..." is one of my favorite shows of all time. So, at this point I'm completely ignoring her in favor of watching Al and Peg Bundy. Shaniqua starts getting impatient. She tells me about how she got a scar on her thigh, and pulls down her pants a little to show me. "That's cool" I say, and go back to watching TV. She then tells me that her underwear match her pants, and pulls her pants down a little to show me. "That's cool" I say, and go back to watching TV. This was the last self-aware thought I had, because a few seconds after I said that, a shadow engulfed my entire being. She was tired of my bullshit, and decided to take matters into her own hands.
This chick literally pounced on me. Much of what happened afterwards is a blur, so I'll just tell you what I remember:
As I drive home, I become increasingly aware of exactly how tired I am. Having not slept very well before the prior days work, working about nine hours, then being punished for roughly nine hours, only managing to catch about 20 minutes of rest total, my body had decided that sleep was of the utmost importance. It didn't give a good god damn about the fact that I was driving down the highway. Naturally, I fall asleep behind the wheel, with the only thing preventing me from going into the ditch on the opposite side of the road being the rumble strip waking me up. I fell asleep a few times, each time waking up on the oncoming-traffic side of the road. Either God loves me, and didn't send vehicles sailing into me, or I was just very lucky and didn't encounter any other vehicles. I pull off to the side of the road, and take a nap for about an hour. I eventually get home, and my friends are in my room, waiting for me. Apparently I looked like I had gotten my ass kicked. Close enough. After I tell them, they laugh for about an hour, which pissed me off because I was trying to sleep. I kick them the hell out of my room, and get a couple of hours of sleep.
If anyone ever tells you that having sex for eight hours is awesome, you slap them in their lying mouth. So many parts of my body were dead. I have no idea how I functioned at work. It's been about six years since that night, and I haven't heard anything from her. In the back of my head there is always a sneaking suspicion that there might be a little Buck Nasty out there, just waiting for mommy to slam daddy with child support. So, in conclusion, stay the hell away from Yahoo chat rooms.
Largely uneventful were my ventures in the chat rooms. I met one lady, though. She told me her name was Nicole. Cool. She sent me a picture of herself. She was a little big. Not fatty-fat-fat, but certainly not skinny. Cool. She was also black. Since I'm not a southern plantation owner, I'm cool with that. We chat for a few weeks, and everything is good.
I come home from a bullshit-filled night of work one night, quite tired. That statement is important. My friends are hanging out in my room, watching TV. I jump on the ol' computer, and eventually Nicole and I start chatting. She mentions that her college roommate is out of town. She then says that if I'm not doing anything, I should give her a visit. When I'm tired, I'm horrible at making good decisions. Anyway, I realize that I, in fact, don't have any plans for the night, so of course I take her up on her offer. She only lived about an hour and half away, and I had enough gas to make the trip. I tell her I'm on my way, and she tells me to meet her at the McDonalds. My friends ask where I'm going, and I just smile and say I'll be back tomorrow. If they weren't so busy laughing, I'm sure we would've been high-fiving.
I arrive at the McDonalds, give her a call, and after a few minutes she arrives. As soon as she stepped out of her car, a few things occurred to me:
- I know why she wanted to meet at McDonalds. This chick was LARGE. And also very short. If I had to guess, I'd say she was around 5'1 and roughly 250 pounds. Realizing that I was only about 130 pounds at the time, and understanding why I was there to visit her, I couldn't figure out any math equation where the inevitable wouldn't be painful for me.
- In relation to number one, I also realized that the picture she sent me was not even remotely her. Face was different, weight, everything. She had rolled me. But, remember, I'm tired, so I don't really care.
- She has a very interesting sense of fashion. She stepped out wearing an all pink sweat-suit outfit, and on the back on her pants it said something like "Sexy" or "Princess" or something. It could have had an entire paragraph and still fit while still being easy to read from a distance.
At this point, I may have to remind anyone reading this that I swear to God I'm not racist. So when I heard this, I immediately thought, "There is no way that is your name. You're a -Nay-Nay away from being a cast member on "Martin." There is no way I can call her that with a straight face."
We get back to her room. I assume it's a standard-sized dorm room. A bed on either side of the room, TV on another side, with a computer desk across from the TV. What I thought was weird was the height of the beds. They seriously came up to roughly my mid-chest. This immediately became hilarious as I watched Shaniqua climb onto a chair, and literally roll onto the bed. I should also say that when I'm tired, everything is hilarious. So when I saw her heft herself onto the bed, I had to muster every single ounce of self-control in my body to not erupt in a volcano of laughter. I manage to survive my laugh-attack, and I jump up on the bed. She's impressed that I didn't have to use the chair. I smile.
She turns on the TV, and flips through the channels. She flips past "Married...with Children." I get excited, and tell her to turn it back. Since she is actually a very nice person, she does so without a word of objection. I become entranced in watching it, since I hadn't watched TV in a while, and "Married..." is one of my favorite shows of all time. So, at this point I'm completely ignoring her in favor of watching Al and Peg Bundy. Shaniqua starts getting impatient. She tells me about how she got a scar on her thigh, and pulls down her pants a little to show me. "That's cool" I say, and go back to watching TV. She then tells me that her underwear match her pants, and pulls her pants down a little to show me. "That's cool" I say, and go back to watching TV. This was the last self-aware thought I had, because a few seconds after I said that, a shadow engulfed my entire being. She was tired of my bullshit, and decided to take matters into her own hands.
This chick literally pounced on me. Much of what happened afterwards is a blur, so I'll just tell you what I remember:
- While trying to "find her spot" I had no idea if I had actually entered, or if I was just humping two fat rolls. I'm not joking. I assumed the best.
- I still had my watch on, which had a Velcro band. At one point, my watch got got stuck to her hair. "You pullin' my weave, quit!" She had a god-damned weave. I did laugh a little when she said that.
- She thought it would be a good idea to move down to her chair/step stool. That poor chair. I actually heard it cry a few times. It never did anything to deserve that treatment.
- While taking a brief intermission, we were laying there. She was talking, but I was trying to force my body to heal the damage she had caused, so I wasn't really listening. However, when she said "I would make a good mother" all of my senses focused together to enhance my hearing. I almost had a heart attack. I basically said "In no way am I interested in having a child currently." She laughed, and claimed that she would be a good LOVER. Bullshit, I know what I heard.
- Towards the end of my torture session, we were laying there again, with her at the edge closest to the majority of the room, and me behind her, facing the wall, trying to die. Suddenly her door opens. Her roommate is back. Shaniqua tosses blankets over us, but the smell of shameful sex was almost visible, so her roommate would have to be a medical vegetable to not know what was going on. They start talking, and I try to fall asleep so I could die painlessly. I hear my name, and pop my head up. Try to visualize this: A large girl laying on her side, and my head popping up out of nowhere. I was so well hidden behind girth that her roommate had no clue I was there.
- After the roommate left, I was asked if I thought the roommate was attractive. Since I am far beyond the realm of tired, in pain, and dehydrated, I opt for the honest answer. I tell her yes, her roommate is hot. She gets a little pissed, and faces away from me. I smile, and can finally die happy.
As I drive home, I become increasingly aware of exactly how tired I am. Having not slept very well before the prior days work, working about nine hours, then being punished for roughly nine hours, only managing to catch about 20 minutes of rest total, my body had decided that sleep was of the utmost importance. It didn't give a good god damn about the fact that I was driving down the highway. Naturally, I fall asleep behind the wheel, with the only thing preventing me from going into the ditch on the opposite side of the road being the rumble strip waking me up. I fell asleep a few times, each time waking up on the oncoming-traffic side of the road. Either God loves me, and didn't send vehicles sailing into me, or I was just very lucky and didn't encounter any other vehicles. I pull off to the side of the road, and take a nap for about an hour. I eventually get home, and my friends are in my room, waiting for me. Apparently I looked like I had gotten my ass kicked. Close enough. After I tell them, they laugh for about an hour, which pissed me off because I was trying to sleep. I kick them the hell out of my room, and get a couple of hours of sleep.
If anyone ever tells you that having sex for eight hours is awesome, you slap them in their lying mouth. So many parts of my body were dead. I have no idea how I functioned at work. It's been about six years since that night, and I haven't heard anything from her. In the back of my head there is always a sneaking suspicion that there might be a little Buck Nasty out there, just waiting for mommy to slam daddy with child support. So, in conclusion, stay the hell away from Yahoo chat rooms.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
My Battle with the Tripple Cheese Hot Dog
Here is a tale of what happens when someone who is lactose-intolerant and doesn't agree much with beef/pork products eats something that has lots of both.
Earlier this year, my buddy Matt and I went to Kansas City to pick up Nancy from the air port. We get her, and offer to go to the mall. Since she's been sitting in an airplane all day, she accepts.
We get there, and mostly just wander around. Before we leave we decide to get something to eat, so we go to the mall cafeteria. I look around, examining my options, and notice that one stand is selling foot long hotdogs with three different cheeses on them. "Well, that just sounds DELICIOUS!" I think to myself. So I get it, and eat it quickly, as I am quite hungry. Matt and Nancy finish, and we head back home.
About 15 minutes later, I realize the error of my decision. I inform the car that stopping by a gas station would be a good idea for everyone involved. So we stop by the nearest Casey's and I casually meander to the bathroom. I set about doing my business, and a couple of minutes later, someone is pounding on the door. He sounds to be in quite a hurry. I tell him it'll be a few minutes, which just leads to him pounding harder, as if I couldn't hear him the first time. So I give in, and let him have the bathroom. "Sure, I'll be able to make it until we get home." Oh, how wrong I was.
After about another 20 minutes on the road, my bowels have reached Red Alert. I politely inform the car that if we don't pull over again soon, a horrible act of unholy vengeance will visit the interior. Luckily, we are pulling into Cameron. More luckilier, there is a hotel near. I ask if they wouldn't mind enjoying the scenery of the outside while I go and give birth to the Antichrist. They accept my offer.
I get inside the hotel, spot their lobby bathroom, and basically just explode. I won't give every single detail, but I will tell the after affects. By the time I was done, I was sweating from head to toe, my stomach was cramping, my mouth was watering for some reason (it did smell pretty tasty in there, I have to admit), my eyes were watering, and the tip of my penis hurt. That last part is what troubled me the most. It makes no sense to me. But I digress. After about 45 minutes of unbridled terror, I am able to walk away, feeling like an entirely new person. I've never had a religious experience, but if it's anything like that, I understood, at that moment, why people enjoy them. I exit the hotel while trying not to make eye contact with the clerk, enter the car, and enjoy the rest of the ride home.
The moral of my story is: If you know you can't handle certain food products, don't eat them before embarking on an hour plus car ride. Although, that triple cheese hot dog was so damn good. I can see myself making that mistake again.
Earlier this year, my buddy Matt and I went to Kansas City to pick up Nancy from the air port. We get her, and offer to go to the mall. Since she's been sitting in an airplane all day, she accepts.
We get there, and mostly just wander around. Before we leave we decide to get something to eat, so we go to the mall cafeteria. I look around, examining my options, and notice that one stand is selling foot long hotdogs with three different cheeses on them. "Well, that just sounds DELICIOUS!" I think to myself. So I get it, and eat it quickly, as I am quite hungry. Matt and Nancy finish, and we head back home.
About 15 minutes later, I realize the error of my decision. I inform the car that stopping by a gas station would be a good idea for everyone involved. So we stop by the nearest Casey's and I casually meander to the bathroom. I set about doing my business, and a couple of minutes later, someone is pounding on the door. He sounds to be in quite a hurry. I tell him it'll be a few minutes, which just leads to him pounding harder, as if I couldn't hear him the first time. So I give in, and let him have the bathroom. "Sure, I'll be able to make it until we get home." Oh, how wrong I was.
After about another 20 minutes on the road, my bowels have reached Red Alert. I politely inform the car that if we don't pull over again soon, a horrible act of unholy vengeance will visit the interior. Luckily, we are pulling into Cameron. More luckilier, there is a hotel near. I ask if they wouldn't mind enjoying the scenery of the outside while I go and give birth to the Antichrist. They accept my offer.
I get inside the hotel, spot their lobby bathroom, and basically just explode. I won't give every single detail, but I will tell the after affects. By the time I was done, I was sweating from head to toe, my stomach was cramping, my mouth was watering for some reason (it did smell pretty tasty in there, I have to admit), my eyes were watering, and the tip of my penis hurt. That last part is what troubled me the most. It makes no sense to me. But I digress. After about 45 minutes of unbridled terror, I am able to walk away, feeling like an entirely new person. I've never had a religious experience, but if it's anything like that, I understood, at that moment, why people enjoy them. I exit the hotel while trying not to make eye contact with the clerk, enter the car, and enjoy the rest of the ride home.
The moral of my story is: If you know you can't handle certain food products, don't eat them before embarking on an hour plus car ride. Although, that triple cheese hot dog was so damn good. I can see myself making that mistake again.
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