Bad Ass Dog

 

That is one bad ass dog.  I would be screaming like  a little girl if my dog was in the water with that thing. I am a giant wimp and so is my dog.  My dog can not even be bothered to get out of bed to chase the cats out of yard much less bring in a shark. They say dogs are like their owners, so this dogs owner must be a bad ass.. not sure what that says about me.

An Advil and a massage please

 

Holy buckets!  three days of the best house music in the world and i am caked.  Late nights turned into early mornings which continued in to late afternoons. Sleep? Who needs sleep we had drugs and another after after after party to go to. Good lord i am a crack head on occasion.  But being a crack head can be fun.

Back to normal tomorrow.

For your entertainment i found this reenactment video of myself over the weekend. 

   

WMC FOR ME

Headed to the Winter Music Conference for the weekend with Freaky D and Jevne.  Kicking it off with the Om Party. Should be weird, wild, drunk and a complete lack of sleep for me.  Ill try to update as this should be interesting. Maybe not mime intersting but interesting none the less. 

one talking mime makes you want to be country

 

 

The night ended oddly. As one dressed down burlesque girl and another one dressed as a mime sat on my lap making out, smearing make all over their faces. I sucked down my Amstel Light wondering how one gets in these situations.  I’m sure the two other customers at the bar wondered that themselves as they sat back and watched the entertainment and I shrugged my shoulders in awe. The boyfriend of the dressed down one behind me laughing and the bartender in front of me doing card tricks, I figured the best thing to do was slightly ignore the situation and order another beer.  Reality is so much better than fiction.  This is why I drink.

As the make up smeared and they called me a narcissist I texted my cop buddy. I was need of a reality check and a ride home, as this was going nowhere good. Here are my texts.

“Where you at?”

“In bed. I lead an exciting life. You?

“At dive bar with a mime chick making out with another chick on my lap.  Occasional they stop and tell me I’m a narcissist bastard. Its kind of weird.”

“What? A mime”

“Yes a mime… she talked though and it’s sort of freaking me out.”

The make out session continued and I ate peanuts and through shells on the floor, as you do in dive bars.  Its funny having girls make out on your lap while your not a part of it.  Especially when one is a mime smearing her make up everywhere.  It’s sort of sexy, weird, fun and it made me fidgety.  I ordered another cocktail and sent a text. 

“if I call h I’m being puked over.. Hammered driving. Ha.”

I text good drunk.

The moment ended and I ran out of peanuts. Work had to be done in the morning and we departed. The mime tried to get in my car, but I was quick and shut the door fast pulling away in a hurry blaring Outkast waving at a policeman sipping on a diet coke. I looked in my rear view mirror as the mime stood in the street by herself getting smaller by the second.  For a moment there I was sad. It reminded me of John Candy by himself  on the bench in “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.”  Then I remembered how much talking mimes freak me out and that I didn’t want her over for Thanksgiving no matter how sad she looked.

I awoke in a white tee shirt covered in barbeque sauce from the ribs I devoured on my couch while attempting to watch old episodes of Planet Earth to erase the memory of the talking mime.  Needless to say this morning after i took I quick shower (to wash the rib sauce and mime make up off of me.) I decided I wanted to be a country singer. Not a whiney one but a cool one. The kind that was born in the back woods of North Carolina and moved to Nashville happily playing his own songs at a dive bar off the main strip. I would drink sweet tea and whiskey, write songs of pretty girls that wear pretty dresses and have soothing accents, the kind of girls that can break your heart over one dinner and a bottle of chardonnay.  Unfortunately I lack any musical talent.

The next best thing was to take my dollar bill collection to the bank for a deposit. My dog came with and we stared up at the blue sky rolling by with a lazy breeze while sucking down a blueberry fruit juice listening to The Avett Brothers. It wasn’t a dive bar with southern girl’s swooing over me but it still felt like a song, a good song  God bless hangovers filled with inspiration.

 

 

 

 

 

Bocce Rules

 

One of my great joys in life is bocce. What is bocce you ask? None other than the greatest sport invented this side of bowling. Defined by the dictionary as “A game of Italian origin similar to lawn bowling that is played with wooden balls on a long narrow court covered with fine gravel.”  This is only the tip of the iceberg of a game that encompasses all of my favorite things in life (minus being naked with girls or course) There is completion, there is friendship, there is shit talking and there is lots of booze. The sport of a true procrastinating, out of shape alcoholic, looking for any excuse to get loaded and throw things on a weekly basis

I am a part of a team sponsored (Sort of. They paid for our entry fee one year but we are too lazy to change the name) by a wine bar named Grand Vin.   Our team consists of a millionaire, a wine rep, a filmmaker/photographer, a boaty handyman dude, a plumber, a token girl hotel worker, and a out of work bartender that quit the team for unknown reasons.   We are a hodge podge of people form different backgrounds that come together on Monday nights to play with balls, share a drink and have a laugh. 

I have no point in telling you this except that it rules to get a bunch of odd people together to throw balls and drink.  I highly suggest it.  What more could you ask for on a monday night? Except for maybe getting naked with girls. 

 

Midget Mooonday!

Here is a great medley of a all the classic dances preformed  by a leprechaun. I am a huge fan of the shopping cart! Sometimes i bust it out at parties and it drives the ladies wild. nothing says go home with me quite like the shopping cart..  The conductor is pretty hypnotic as well, 

Big ups to M.C. for showing me this.  

 

Keep It Together.

 

JYAG NOTE:  below is a sad rant. Sorry for the lack of humor today… click here if you want to laugh and not read my depressed dribble) 

Sometimes life bites you in the ass and there is nothing you can do about it.  The stars aligned this weekend with a full moon in tow bringing with it my ex girlfriends and a test of my temper.  I batted .500

The past couple of weeks I have been trying to keep my shit together.  Laying back on the booze, staying in and working out.  All of the things you are supposed to do to live a fruitful life.  Sometimes you are you, and you comes out no matter how bad you try to keep you down.  The fact of the matter is I am a sensitive bitch sometimes. Fact of the matter is I cannot keep how I feel about anything inside of me. Love you or hate you, however I feel about you just comes out no matter how hard I try to keep it in. A little tequila helps lubricate my tongue to purge my thoughts out of me and can really make for an entertaining evening.

My first time up to the plate with the ex girlfriends came on Friday night. It was my ex ex, who I was with for 4-5 years and we broke up a few years ago.  She showed up in town unannounced with her current girlfriend. Yup, girlfriend.  (I didn’t even get any transition time on that one, so it’s not as cool as it could have been.)  We had not really hung out for the past couple of years, but in the past few months we have grown to be friends again. To top it off, she lost some weight, got rid of her craziness she had when I was with her and kept all the cool fun parts that made her awesome. In fact, she looked fantastic and was a blast to hang out with. As much as the waves of emotions from the years we spent together crashed in to me, it was something I could surf for a bit. It was weird, but it was good. I was even cool with her girlfriend

My next time up at the plate didn’t go as well.  My ex girlfriend from Connecticut (That State is dead to me know) was in town for some sort of engagement party.  Ill skip the details of our once cool relationship that spiraled down in to a sea of my hatred and get straight to me loosing my shit and striking out. Or hitting it out of the park, I guess it depends on which way you look at it.  Either way, it was not pretty.

What can I say?  She broke me heart, she moved and It fucking stung. It was a few months ago, but I never really got to let her know how I felt about it. Instead I sent her money, talked her through her crying bouts of looking for work and was basically her all around carpet that she could walk on and wipe her feet off on when ever she got shit on her shoe. I was a little bitch.

 As cool as I tried to be while hanging out, it just didn’t work.  To much anger, to much booze, too much for me to deal with. We started to talk about something. I’m not quite sure what happened as everything is a little hazy at the moment, but something came up about us and  how she left things and I let loose. I mean I really let loose. Something to the effect of   “you’re a piece of shit. You are the most soulless person I have ever met in my life you remind me of the tin man as you have no heart.  Don’t ever fucking speak to me again.”    Yup I am smooth. Fuck. Damn tequila.

Why I writing this?  I don’t know. I usually try to find things to write about to make me giggle, stuff that makes me lose myself for a moment, but sometimes things make me sad and things make me lonely. I know there are lessons in life everyday and karma comes around to remind us that we are human and what ever we do will come back in another form. As I look back on my last two signifagent relationships and see how things ended up it makes me realize that when you give somebody your heart you can never get it back. How they treat your gift Is up to them so be careful who you give it to you, might not like what they do to it In the end. There is a thin line between love and hate and only those you truly love can you truly ever hate. 

With my head held low and a hangover kicking in I realize time heals everything and ill get over this.  I was doing pretty good, but this weekend was like getting a nice big scab ripped of when the wound had not quite healed up yet.  It’ll heal up and it will leave a scar. In the end batting .500 with the past is okay but next time I think ill try football.

Walrus jiggin it up to the MJ

 

This walrus rules. I have never seen such dance moves look so graceful and exquisite.  He pops, he locks he gets down on it. I propose an ultimate dance off pants off competition between him and the Philippine prison dancers.  It would be prison rules of course (seeing as how they are both in prison of sorts.) Winner takes all, cigarettes, extra plate of food and some good  ’ol fashion shower time.  

On a side note, I am extremely attracted to the walrus’s dance partner. The fact a girl took the time to teach the walrus these moves and that she choose Smooth Criminal ups her hotness 10,000 points.  Any chick that can shake her bum like that with a sea creature is pretty darn cool in my book. I wonder if she has a boyfriend? I wonder if she would go out with me. I bet she is a vegetarian.  I could deal with that if we got to go dance with the walrus after our tofu dinner.  Maybe I can start a fan club and Internet stalk her. That always works out well don’t you think?  

Have a good day kids 

Thanks to Fnar Fnar for hooking me up with this killer walrus dance video!

 

2 dudes in one week wacking off on chicks in public! WTF?

I read yesterday that some dude wanked one on the girl sitting next to him on an American Airlines Flight. (Note to self… yet another reason American airlines sucks and I always refuse the pillow and blanket.) Then this afternoon another wild wanker tossed himself off on some lady in aisle 10 while she shopped with her baby at Target. 

What’s wrong with people?  I am all for a good wank, but come on! That’s nasty, wrong, gross and very. unsanitary  I wish I could be the fly on the wall as these dudes tell their cell mates what they’re in for. Guess I wouldn’t want the bottom bunk. 

my idiot ways

The other morning I awoke to a lovely spring like day. IT was Sunday, the birds were chirping, the palms trees were swaying and all was good.  Hmm, I thought, I think ill go to the beach and take a walk, maybe catch some hottie spring break girls or at least a few MILF’s speed walking, as they do on beautiful days such as this.  I probably sound like a dirt bag basing my walks around checking out good looking ladies, and your right I am, but if I’m going to walk somewhere I would rather do it where I can enjoy the scenery.  

I’ve been sober for the past week. That means no booze, no beer, no pot, no pills and really no fun.  For some reason I felt the need to get my stuff in order and I thought sobriety might help that out a bit. I have not tried it in ten plus years so I figured, what the hell, ill give it a whirl.  So far all it’s given me is vivid dreams, which include balloons, fires and married women and some sort of rash on my left foot. I also took some vitamins they other day to be all healthy and what not. I didn’t know you were supposed to eat before you take vitamins. If you are an idiot like me and you take vitamins without eating you get to have a whole day of feeling like your being stabbed in the gut as well as wanting to curl up like a ball.  Scotch did these things to me as well, but at least I got to have some fun before I felt like I wanted to die. Servers me right for being healthy I guess.

As I was saying I was getting ready to go for a lovely walk on the beach. I would have run, but my stomach was still twirled up due to the vitamins I ingested. Healthiness rules. Right as I was walking out my door with a blueberry Izzy Soda (Best sparkling juice ever.  A true gift from the gods) my buddy Ham Head called. He is the only other person that is up as early as me no matter how late he stays out.  After a brief conversation he decided a walk on the beach with hopes of checking out MILF’s and other beach lovelies and an Izzy Fruit juice was right up his alley. IT was 9am and the day was looking good.  

Ham Head is a fan of the Marijuana so bring the host that I am I offered to roll him a joint of the finest kind bud that I had. He accepted.  Shocking.   Watch him happily puff away on the spilf I thought to myself. What could one puff do?  The little joint looked up at me from his mouth and said, “Smoke me! I’m fun! Its Sunday you’re going to the beach. Come on man” I felt like I was Richard prior for a minute and as I was sucked in to its goodness.  I really hoped I didn’t catch on fire and blow up. Good thing I never took up freebasing.  Fuck it! What’s one hit?  I took two.  

We got in the car high and happy. I put on some Sly and the Family Stone and we rolled through the old town neighborhoods enjoying the morning sunlight off the palm trees and the locals walking their dogs and grabbing their papers.  Mmm I love driving high.   To the beach we headed and the funk slid in to some deep Hip Hop pulsing through the system. I turned it up.  Driving with my windows down and the AC on I feel like I’m cheating earth and riding some weird line of nature vs. technology and I am winning for just a minute.   

We drove past hot little spring break girls in bikinis to small for them and bodies to perfect for their young faces. We were old guys blaring beats early in the morning driving slowly as if we really were that cool. To them we did not even exist.  All I could think of was dazed and confused were Mathew McCaughey says,  ” I get older and they stay the same age” The only difference is I felt as douchey as he is in the film and we looked every bit the jackass part. I enjoyed holding up the camouflage for the moment. It felt right and who am I to say I am acting wrong?  

We rolled past the Catholic Church as the parishioners streamed out to the parking lot and we looked like to bad white thugs that grew up in good suburban blaring Blackalicious songs to loud to early.  As we floated by in the car I dug the strange looks we got from the churchgoers decked out in their Sunday best. I felt young, I felt silly, I felt high and I liked the role.  

Life continued to roll by as if we were in a montage from Humar and what’s his face go to White castle.   A old Cuban washed his 70’s Caddy with a baby ’s diaper, a baby French bulldog walked a little girl to the store, two old ladies strolled in time to the music swinging their arms like a 50’s musical on good acid. As Ham Head and I drove we owned the retardedness that we were all they way to the beach parking lot.

As we slowly pulled up to the only open parking spot, attitudes hanging, music blaring and the perfection of the day’s moments were coming to and end.  A German looking couple was packing up the car next to the open spot. (They had on black socks and sandals, no buddy but stupid Germans do that.)  Surly the noticed how awesome we were as the scene we made upon arrival was no to be denied.  My car parked perfectly, beats were blaring, as we got ready to make our exit. Ham Head got out of the car and stretched his arms like a cat waking up as he stared towards the beach. I rolled up the windows and the closed the sunroof. As I took the keys out of the ignition I accidentally hit the panic button, the horn wailed.  HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK. At least it was in beat to the music. Ham Head jumped looking easily confused, the couple packing up the car next to us, and they rest of the beach turned to check out the chaos. I fumbled the keys trying to figure out how to shut my car off. In the process I knocked over my Izzy blue berry sparking juice, spilling it all over the front seats of the ca and myself. Taking stock at this absolute moment of retardedness I lost it.  I giggled like a special kid at the fair and started pounding the dashboard with delight and embarrassment. Ham Head started to laugh and shake his head not knowing what to do. The German looking couple packing the car up next to us got on their way a bit faster hoping not to expose themselves to any more of our excitement.  We were too much for the black socks.

I found the button to turn of the horn, cleaned up the juice (sort of) and Ham Head and I got on our way.  

 I have come to the conclusion that I might not be a better person when I am wrecked but I am defiantly more entertaining to the strangers around me. I am not sure that is a good thing, but I am sure that at the end of a good ride, no matter what, I panic and spill things all over my self. They say life is about the journey and not how you finish. Good thing because I hate being loud sticky and having everyone stare with bewilderment at the end of everything that I do.