Wednesday, June 30, 2004

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Heres to you Mrs. Robinson

I can probably count the amount of "hot" teachers I had when I was a student on one hand. There was one in high school named Ms. Van Howe... but if I met her in a bar today I would probably say something to the tune of "ya she's kinda cute...for a mom." Then there was this fucking bitch of a philosophy teacher at Emory. She was hot like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction...that weird haircut with bangs in front. She was such a bitch that every guy in the class wanted to either get medieval on her ass or not get on her ass at all. Thats it...2 hot teachers.

Nowadays since most of us are in the workin world, we know plenty of people our age who are teachers. I mean in georgia you dont even need a master's, you can teach for full salary while you earn it at night classes. So naturally there are some really hot really young teachers coming out of colleges these days.

This is the hottest thing I have heard in awhile. A sexually frustrated teacher who did the following: fucked her student at school, fucked her student in her car, and blew her student twice in the classroom. The kid was only 14. She is only 23.

Now I know some of you might think that this is NOT the hottest thing youve ever heard. Some might even go as far as saying it is nasty, sexual deviance, lascivious and lude behavior. But guess what? There are these things called double standards in America and whether you like it or not, this happens to be one of them.

It would be disgusting for a 23 year old guy (me) to fuck a 14 year old student. Dude, that is fucking gross. But the 14 year old guy who is fucking the 23 year old teacher? God damn man, way to take down the mark. You wont get it that good for another 7 years buddy, hope you enjoyed your time.

I think David Lee Roth really encapsulates the feelings of all men who are silently cheering on this young 14 year old walking rite of passage when he says: "I think of all the education that I missed/But then my homework was never quite like this."

Anyone who has ever seen The Graduate, ever downloaded porn from, seen Geri Ryan on Boston Public, or has dreams of Ms. Veronica Vaughn late at night knows that there is no fucking big deal about this hot little vixen fucking her student. All she needs is a million dollar playboy pictorial and she can retire and fuck all the little boys she wants. Im sure Katz can point her in the right direction...

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

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Sleeping Virgins

So I was up late last night thinking about how badly I wanted to just fall asleep, when a random thought occurred to me. One of my ex-roommates is still a virgin and is waiting until marriage to release his seed. Not Opdyke, lord knows he's had his shmeckle in more holes than a wheel of swiss cheese. Not Katz because well....katz fucks. Nickdaddy has not had sex and by default has had very few girls over. So what happens when you're a virgin and you finally get married and you get your shit done in 3 minutes and then you want to pass out with the wifey? Youve really never slept intimately with a girl at all... you dont even know what a spoon position is.

What if your new wifey likes to wake up at 6 am to feed the dog and water her marigolds before she runs 10 miles and throws in a load of laundry? That shit would not be cool at my spot... on the weekends i usually dont wake up before my noon frenzy time.

Here is a factual excerpt from (article): "One of the main effects of conflicting body clocks is loneliness-a partner waiting for the other to surface, or sitting alone into the early hours while the other half of the relationship sleeps. Up to a third of the day can be lost: The urge for love making is mistimed, there is less chance to share problems and opportunities to relax disappear."

AGAINST my better judgement, I read a 10-page article on about the different positions of sleeping with another lady friend. (I would also like to say that I was right about these women magazines, they truly do NOT undestand men in their "what men want" articles) Here are the positions of sleep I am most fond of.

The spoon position is classic.... it allows for maximum touching while also giving time to sleep a reasonable amount of peaceful hours at night. Also, waking up in spoon position encourages morning sex.
The tangled up in you position is kinda one of those things you do after some really dank pass out sex. You clearly have to like the person, as well as their morning breath...but dont expect to sleep much using this one.
The cradle position is that cute cuddly thing where you just want to go to bed and dream happy shit. This one is recommended if you just want to have some sweet dreams. Pink sheets are not mandatory.
The Reverse Spoon. Ahhhh, my favorite position. Thats right, I am a needy little bitch who needs to be spooned and not the other way around. Hey, at least it gives the lady a feeling of empowerment right....and you know i am all for that.

Regardless of how you and your partner(s) decide to sleep, the one thing to keep in mind is to DEFINITELY sleep with as many people as possible. Its the only way you will truly find someone who meshes well with your sleeping habits. When youre sleeping well together, lines of communication will be open for many more things. Like anal. Definitely.

Monday, June 28, 2004

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Moving Day

The two worst words in the english language. moving day. Since I have been in Atlanta, I have had to endure 11 moving days.

Louisville --> Freshman Dorm
Freshman Dorm --> Louisville
Louisville --> Frat House
Frat House --> Arbor Hills
Arbor Hills --> Frat House
Frat House --> Caliber Woods
Caliber Woods --> Frat House
Frat House --> Arbor Hills
Arbor Hills --> Arbor Gates
Arbor Gates --> Gables Montclair
Gables Montclair --> Virginia Avenue House

10/11 of these moving days were done using friends, a uhaul truck, or some other form of do-it-yourself option where I had to lift chairs, boxes, desks, all that shit... tons of shit every time. FINALLY i wised up and paid for 3 movers to come help me move out. Now, I dont have a ton of shit.... i actually have never really had to buy furniture sets besides my bedroom stuff. I could have done it myself, it would have been slightly cheaper. But the reason I agreed to get movers is because I would have to move my shit plus Katzs shit and who the hell wants to endure that misery again. (our old place had 3 flights of windy stairs)

So the movers show up at 9 am on sunday...stellar. rainy weather, this is getting so much better. here is what they basically look like:

So Ice Cube is the leader of the movers, and the other two are his flunkies. I swear to god the other black dude, the one we shall call cornrows, talks like tyrone biggums and his 5'o clock free crack giveaway. I ask them if they want something to drink, seeing how I am doing jack shit and they are lifting all the heavy shit into the truck. Orange Juice, coke, any kinda juice is the response. good thing that stereotype isnt true.

It takes these 3 slabs of meathead 1/3 of the time what it would take for me and chicken arms to move all the shit. We roll to the new place, they start unloading. I go to grab arbys. 4 roast beef sandwiches, a chicken sandwich, and a TON of ketchup. oops, one more stereotype. drink requests? sweet tea, sprite, coke, and orange soda. damn cornrows, you sure do love that orange soda.

Then white boy asks katz, yo do you all party? katz not knowing if he is asking about smoking weed or sucking dick goes, like what kind. Like do you smoke herb. oh, ya. ya. Trip #2 back to the old place, grab the bubbler and the bag. By this time cornrows and cube have left with the truck, but whitey is still there waiting for his boss to pick him up. (PS-- we tipped $20 each, is that cool? are you supposed to?)

Pack bizzowl. Smoke. I rip on southerners for talking like idiots and drawling out their words... this guy from Smyrna, GA thought that I was doing that shit. but yo, that shit happens when you woke up at 8 am and its only 11:30 and you just scattered to tape up boxes, hang and fold all your clothes, unplug all electronics, no shower, and you settle down for a post-move-in wake and bake.

Conversation meanders around weed, quality of mids this guy has to settle for, and will i sell him any. Sketch. He gives me back the 20 i gave him, in exchange for one large nug of emory's finest. most of the stuff round these parts is very "d" so this guy was real real fucked up. then at the close of convo, when his boss is waiting outside, he goes: ya man this is real good, im gonna have to stop by to pick up next time i am in the neighborhood.


Friday, June 25, 2004

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Gifts and Shit

Yo, thank god its friday. i only have to live at my current location for 2 more days.

So recently it was father's day... a time to tell your dad, or dads as the case may be, that you love them very much and here is a little gift to show my appreciation. Now, I am a daddys boy, mainly because my mother is kind of a big bitch, but mostly because he is a sensible guy, doesnt put unwarranted pressure on me, and overall understands most of the shit going on in my life. i got him a card this year.. i mean not like i have no money, i just think giving gifts outside the normal realm of birthday is insanity.

So I made a little list of all the different kinds of random gift giving situations i could think of.

The best thing in the whole world is called "spoils of war" gifts. Once you break up with someone you loved or were real close with, this is the shit you gained after being with her that you now have full access rights to claim as your own. Could be a birthday gift, could be clothes, could be a poker table... all you know is you didnt have it going into the relationship but you love having it coming out afterwards.

Another type of gift is called the "double whammy" gift. We all know someone who has a birthday on or right around another holiday. Like July 4th, Christmas, mothers day AND their birthday. fucking double whammy. the question is, are you supposed to double the price of one gift, give two average gifts, or give one and just say fuck it, you know you're the fucking double whammy in the group bitch.

I know there are some people out there who give gifts ANYTIME they come back from vacation, a few weeks away, the gas station.... basically they are like trinket hunters and all they do is roll around to shops and if they see anything, regardless of cost or tackiness level, purchase in the hopes of bringing a mini smile to their friend's face. Trinkets are overrated. They are the worst kind of gift because they are usually completely useless and worse, impulse buys being passed off as thoughtfulness.

I have one pro and one con for the wonderful jewish concept of gift giving. Check this out...when I was 13, i had one of the fattest bar mitzvah parties for all my goysha (and non goysha) friends. Even though my parents foot the bill, since a bar mitzvah is becoming a man, people shelled out a ton of shit to congratulate me on a job well done. $6000 in tvs, a new bed, clothes, cash, and other prizes is a fucking dream come true to a 13 year old kid. one of the highlights of my life. good work jews, i like the tradition.

But for every Yin there is a Yang and for every good jewish gift there has to be a downside. And that downside is realized in the concept of Hannukka. 8 fucking days! are you kidding?? sure its great when youre a kid... but once you have kids its like a self-sentencing of 8 presents a year for 20 years. 8 times the long lines during holiday season. 8 times per year you have to think of the things your kid wants. sounds like misery to me but i guess thats why i dont have kids yet.

Finally, Re-gifting is a concept that was made popular on the sitcom Seinfeld. It may seem far fetched, but this shit goes down ALL THE TIME. Say a tragedy were to enter into a family. Someone is sick and friends, family, community members, coworkers, etc all send gifts to wish the person well. No matter what, there are going to be some repeaters in the pile of gifts.... 8 copies of the DaVinci Code, 4 wheels of cheese, 23 candles, and of course an overwhelming amount of product from bed bath and beyond. Of course you dont need all this, so you figure you take it to the store and return it for credit when you need a refill on your apricot mango aloe vera vitamin D ball scrub. Seems sensible--but some families out there just re-gift the shit that someone gave you to someone else. Its tasteless and morally objectionable and i love it.

Have a good weekend! See you on Monday.

oh and ps-- if you havent gotten your ass pounding for the day, you might want to head out to this little festival happening in atl.

Thursday, June 24, 2004

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The Dream Team?

Yo, I come from a town that has zero professional sports teams. None. Do you know what that shit is like as a kid? With that in mind, college sports are GOD and professional sports are 2nd tier to me. I mean dont get me wrong, Vicklanta is going to the super bowl this year, and I am going to be hyped because i called that shit early, but I could give a fuck about pro sports other than NFL. Especially NBA. NBA basketball can eat a fat one.

In Atlanta, there is zero support for the NBA team here. I mean, with a stunning 28W-54L season, a losing road and home record, and the only good player Jason Terry hitting right around 40% of his shots, our team needs some serious fucking draft if they want to even think about cracking the top half of their division. The only way they could sell season tix last year was to package them with popular teams who came here. Go Hawks!

But my beef is not with the Hawks. My beef is with the NBA Dream Team. In the old days, only college ballers were allowed to compete in the Olympic Games for basketball. Although the scores were somewhat pitiful early on, the USA won straight gold from 1936-1976. skipped 1980. lost one in 1988. Then all the rules changed....just when another country (namely Russia) had taken out the USA's historical run on gold, we switched up the rules so that all players, professional and college, could play in the olympics.

Check out this roster for the 1992 dream team: Charles Barkley, Larry Bird, Clyde Drexler, Patrick Ewing, Earvin Johnson, Michael Jordan, Christian Laettner, Karl Malone, Chris Mullin, Scottie Pippen, David Robinson, and John Stockton. Now I dont know shit about NBA, but I do know that these guys were the fucking all stars in 1992.

Fast forward to present day Olympics games. 2004 Olympics being held in the original homeland, the mecca of Olympic sports, athens greece. The world is in a fray, war torn, and threat of terrorist activity on the rise in foreign countries. Big name events are all considered targets...especially with the olympics violent history of kidnappings, bombings, etc. 12 years prior, NBA stars werent even asked to compete in the worlds greatest games. If you ask me, admitting the NBA into the olympics was the worst move ever.

Sure, it was awesome that the entire country supported the baddest ass players from the NBA. I think its a sick team and its awesome that they kicked everyones ass. But with even a hint of danger, which of course is all suspect, NBA players are dropping like flies from the Olympics.

Here is a list of the original 2004 Paycheck Players team: Ray Allen, Tim Duncan, Jason Kidd, Tracy McGrady, Mike Bibby, Karl Malone, Kobe Bryant, Allen Iverson, Jermaine O'Neal. Of these nine, only 2 are left...AI and Duncan. Since then, all other players have dropped out for one excuse or another. Citing terrorist concerns is a fucking cop out and they know it. How fucking greedy are these guys that they cant do something for honor instead of the dollar? After more rounds of invites, even more NBA players declined the nomination. Shaq, Richard Hamilton, Ben Wallace, KG, Vince Carter...the list goes on and on. story1 story2

The Notorious BIG once said: "Either you're slingin' crack-rock, or you've got a wicked jump-shot. Nobody wants to work for it anymore. There's no honor in taking that after school job at Mickey Dee's, honor's in the dollar, kid."

I have no idea how this is pertinent, but the point is, the idea of a dream team died in the 90s. There is no honor in backing down from a challenge so you can eek out a few more mil in the safe confines of the USA. Go to the olympic games and show the world we can still ball like the bad boys of old. pussies.

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

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You've heard all the terms: pothead, hippie, stoner, cokehead, pusher, popper. These names are just a label used to identify drug behavior of an individual. They are commonplace, generic, everyones doing it...whats the big deal. But I swear to god, out of all the hundreds of potheads i have met, none of them can even come close to the vicinity of the one, the true, and the only: Crackie.

Crackie, as I am labelling her for I have no basis of determining her real name, is my friend Dwellis's neighbor. Let me just give you a little run down of what Crackie looks like. 5'6. brown straight hair, some gray. absolutely no teeth. wrinkled skin makes me think she could be an old 45 or a really old 35. her lip skin is kinda stretched over her mouth since there is no teeth support. oh, one more thing, she looooooooves crack.

Crackie, by profession, is a lawn mower. For $20 she will do the front and the back yard and bag all the nasty clippings. She doesnt really have a business card, I mean this is just a neighborly thing that she is doing as a service. The only problem is, when she comes over the first time and says she will do your lawn for $20 you think its an awesome deal. Little do you know that a week later Crackie is going to need some money and will want to mow your shit again. and again. and again.

Ya see Crackie says she is dyslexic. I would venture to say its probably more 50% having a georgia education and 50% because you are always high as shit on crack, you cracka ass crackie. Because of her condition, she cant write or read, ergo she cant make a lawn mowing calendar, ergo she doesnt ever remember when she mowed the lawn last. Wow. that must be some good ass pcp.

One time Crackie came over and asked dave for 3 dollars. 3 dollars? Her mom was in a bad, bad accident and she doesnt have a car and needed a ride to the hospital and had to pay for gas. I'm sorry but 3 dollars is a fucking joke. I am probably being insensitive and shit, but I think that its fucking crazy that you have so little money and so little worth that you are grinding out 3 dollars by lying to people, manipulating, looking sad, and of course mumbling since you have no teeth.

The only way to get rid of Crackie is to send her to a place where all her friends can have tons of fun, do whatever they want, and have no least for about 4 hours.

No More Sergio

Yo, this story sucks. I cannot think of a good ending. That is why I dont write short stories. I figured I didnt want to just drop the audience, but i need to scrap this and write something funnier.
===(one excerpt from the scrap heap)===
♣"Hey main, dis here taco is one of the tastiest tacos i have ever eaten main," quipped Sergio.
♠"Youre right ese, Carla really does something to make her tacos taste real good. ¿How does she do it main?" asked Hector.
♣"I dont know main, but I wouldn't mind an extra side of sour cream if you know what i'm saying ese."
♠"Dig it" concluded Hector.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

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Sergio Part 2: My Destinos

(today is a bad hair day. ha ha, what kind of man says that? one with curly ix bitch-- thats who)

Welcome back to Sergio...we now continue with some background.
Sergio Hernandez, born Paco Antonía Chávez, was born in Cuba in 1972. Forget the fact that he is 32 and hanging out with 23 year olds....not pertinent to the story. Paco was a violent, stir crazy little cuban baby boy. His father was a revolutionary fighting for rights in Havana. His mother was a dirty dirty whore, who scrapped the rent check on selling her cuban destinos to sick perverse american men who thrived on foreign chicks. Paco loathed this behavior and vowed that his mother would suffer for her disobedience and mistrust.

One day, a great Cuban revolutionary was struck down in the capital. The other soldados took leave and returned to their casas for some good rest and a little side of pooontáng señor hand. As Paco's father ascended the stairs, he heard loud banging noises coming from the bedroom. Taking two at a time he slammed into the door and was bewildered at what he saw.

Paco standing over his mother and her customer-- bludgeoned to death. NOOOO!! paco's father shouted. WHY DID YOU DO THIS PACO? she dishonored your honor papa. CALL THE POLICE. and with that, paco raised his axe, jumped off the bed towards his stunned father, and chunked him right at the throat.

Paco now vowed he would never be disrespected again. He joined Tony Montána and his gang of Miami hoodlums as an 8 year old. He was street born, street trained, and street deadly. He snorted coke like it was going out of style. He changed his name to Sergio Hernandez to lose the connection to his murdered family back home. Finally, in 1995, Sergio was brought up in the ranks. He would get a new Chevy, a new set of threads, and his own tanning salon to run numbers and bags out of to earn a living.

When Sergio came to Atlanta, he had options of buying a nice house out in the suburbs. He was backed by cash in Miami and had no problems. Instead, Sergio decided to open up shop on Buford Highway. His tanning salon business would be secure in the dirtiest mexican part of town. Although Sergio had plenty of bonitas to choose from, he had other desires. He wanted white chicks. He wanted to do some freaky, freaky deaky dutch bastard crazy shit to white girls. And so he met his mark one day, at Lenox Mall. She was gabbing in her cell phone to all her deephs. He was awestruck. this white girl is my white girl now.

(Sergio Part 3: The Long Voyage Home, will continue tomorrow)

Monday, June 21, 2004

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Sergio Part 1

Welcome back to work everyone. Here is a short story:

"Oh Man this bowl is sooo worth it," I say to myself, as i double fist a bubble and roll two joints for the night. I had just received the wake up call, 10:30 pm sharp, get your ass showered, get crunk, because we are going out tonight. "Where to?" I say. Meet us at Hand in Hand, then we're going to Clairemont Lounge. "Oh..its gonna be one of those nights." fire up again. get into car. peace.

line at hand in hand. lines lines, always lines. get in. hear my name being yelled at extremely high pitch and volume. SHUSTER! wow. need ya at a 2. shake hands with new people, get one of those teaser lap dances that girls like to do. get up and go to bar for drinks. one of these kinda nights calls for a shot of jack and a jack and coke. finish. go to clairemont lounge. driving, smoke joint #2.

pay cover. 10 bucks. i'm buck and i like to fuck. clairemont lounge is seedy as hell. let me set it up for you. RED lights cover most of the ceiling, except in the 8x8 dance floor area...that is dark and strobe lighty. full stocked bar, good drink prices. DJ spins house and funk and trip hop (is that a genre, because it should be). Lots of mini tables and seats in the back to chill, smoke a bliz, brown nose some hoes. Crowd... a mix, a great wide crazy mix. lots of white kids who just want to dance. lots of black chicks who came with their nuggas. lots of single black men dressed like archbishop don "magic" juan.

lotta pimps, lookin for fine jewish girls who tease too much and drink too much yack. the best part, STRIPPERS. but not just any strippers. strippers with the spam bursting from the can. strippers whose last meal was an entire other human being. thats right byatches, clairemont lounge is home to the fucking nastiest strippers alive. but theyre doin what they love, gotta give love to that. (read 1st paragraph, claremont lounge if you want more)

so i am chillin at claremont lounge with some yatches. happy birthday. is head mandatory on girls for their birthdays too? katz take that one down for me will ya. anyway. drinking. dancing. avoiding eye contact with blondie and other such messes. i am in a haze. my sober driver FUCKED ME OVER (sorta not really) and left. so now i had to figure out a way to get home. stumbling, mumbling, we roll to late night pizza. no za for me, just more cigarettes. and a diet coke. loud screaming ensues. out of towners bitch about no new york pizza. if we were in new york, this pizza would have been ready as soon as we got here. if we were in new york, it wouldnt be taking a half hour. if we were in new york--Shut the fuck up, this is atlanta. chill with that prada bcbg shit, byatch.

finally, pizza comes. i find out they have called a friend to come pick us up. We wait outside. Hoopty chevy rolls up to curb. i am way faded at this point. mexican 30 year old sketchy man looks up at my face and says: Get In.

(to be continued.....Sergio Part 2)

Friday, June 18, 2004

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Well, the weekend is (finally) here and I am definitely stoked for the high octane activity that will be going down this weekend. First off, me and my roomie jonny mcpot found a dank place in the highlands to live next year. It is within walking distance to every bar we frequent, with options of cab fare under 5 bucks for most. For the out of towners, the best thing about most of these places is that they have outdoor patios. Yo fucks, you wanna walk over to moes and grab some pbr? yo smokey mcfucks, you wanna go not talk to girls at neighbors tonight? hi jon, sometimes when i am all alone at night, i sit on my hand and then masturbate...its called a stranger jon, have you ever given yourself a stranger? whaaaaat?
I even drew a map.

So that should be pretty fun for the next year. If anyone knows any good decorators, i am toootally looking for one. that would be suuuper.

So this weekend...well friday, tonight, i plan on getting ridiculously fucked up on some of that white widow mixed in with a little bog bubble. roll up about 4 fatties. haul a few shots of goldschlager mixed in with some jack and cokes. catch MARTA. go to see olympic torch. use torch to light up j's. if cowboy mouth were a high school superlative, they would be "Band Most Likely to Get Every Single Person in the Crowd Crazy Jumping Dancing Singing Along" award.

Tomorrow I have no idea whats in store, but I have a feeling it wont matter until about 5 pm anyway... maybe just puke around 6 am. and 8 am. and then go to the pool and pass out until mid day. drink lots of water, take lots of vitamins, and be prepared to not get any numbers on saturday, just take em home to the pad.

I am really bored at work and feeling so braindead via dwellis and his little hobby that i cannot function in a funny clear mode right now. So one last F-U.

Fuck you louisville. You only have one really cool event all year long, the kentucky derby. runner up is of course reggae fest. all of a sudden, i hear from chiu that there is a 3rd activity that (quite possibly) could make a swift run for 2nd place and give the derby a run for its money? Imagine, ANOTHER thing coming out of ky thats cool? Its true, and I wish so bad I could be in two places at once.

Have a sweet weekend. See ya back in the office on Monday, byatch.

Thursday, June 17, 2004

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Things Guys Hate But Can't Ever Say

Have you ever noticed that no matter how perfect a relationship you have with a girl is, at the drop of a hat you can say one wrong thing and totally fuck yourself over. I know it has happened to any guy... its like you dont want to be watching every thing you say, but some things guys say just do not sit well with girls.

Perhaps the greatest example of this is if a girl asks you a question about her outfit, her hair, if she looks fat, etc etc. Guys cannot stand these fucking questions... we know there is rarely a right answer and that anything dumb we blurt out fucks us for that night. Girls, here is a wake up call. Guys rarely notice the little intricacies you pick at yourself about. I mean, if you are wearing a hot black skirt then by all means, the guy should be forthcoming with compliments... but the little things, the shit you all notice that we could give a fuck about, we could give a fuck about so dont ask.

Guys hate capri pants. Stop wearing capri pants. They are only cute to you and your girlfriends. If your purpose is to impress a guy, do not wear capri pants.

(most) guys hate 80s music. for me, even the mention of going to an 80s night or an 80s party makes me cringe and throw up in my mouth a little bit. because for as many huey lewis and the news and warrant songs as they are going to play, there will be an exponentially larger amount of madonna/cindi lauper shit bubble gum shit music.

If you are a shitty driver, a slower than normal driver, an accident prone driver, or a frequent asker of driving questions while driving, guys are hesitant to step foot in your car. Please ask daddy how to drive a car the right way if you dont know. or just hire me, i will show you my boston-esque skills.

Guys hate Dirty Dancing/Pretty Woman/Princess Bride types of movies. Please dont make us watch those.

I guess the last thing i should say is, guys hate seeing the magazines in the grocery store aisle that say: "50 Things that are Guaranteed to Keep Your Man Happy" First, you know that the magazine is written by mostly women. the list was probably compiled by mostly women, and mostly women were asked their opinion. DOES THIS MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE? Maxim Magazine aka The Bible has the real articles about what real men really want. Dont consult a womens magazine about guy shit.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

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ATLiens, we should all go to this

click ad below, i swear it will be cool.
Free, Friday, Fine Ass, Olympic Torch Lighting? Fucked Up, FUBAR, etc, etc

The Plight of the Rich Black Man

With the odds stacked against them, through segregation, discrimination, and a general disrespect for black men in this country, many have survived and made a successful living in America. Some black guys have reached super stardom and became very very rich. But where there is a rich black man, there is usually a group of white men who figure out a way to make the rich black man suffer for becoming so god damned rich.

(I had made a list of the top 10 examples of this and was going to comment, but now I realize Mike Tyson is just too easy....)

#10-- Mike Tyson
#9-- Suge Knight
#8-- Ray Lewis
#7-- James Brown

#6-- Puff Daddy
#5-- Snoop Doggy Dogg
#4-- Kobe Bryant
#3-- R. Kelly
#2-- OJ Simpson
#1-- Michael Jackson (audio1) (audio2)

When the name Mike Tyson is ever dropped, the first thing i do is laugh, snicker a little. I mean, I feel like most of America is with me that Mike Tyson is a fucking joke. But lets put that aside for one second... my first memory of the name Mike Tyson came from a Nintendo game. Glass joe, king hippo, Don Flamenco, and other such characters were on a long path to Mike Tyson, the cartoon wonderboy-fighter that could knock you down in a single shot. This guy was a badass and that stuck in my mind.

Flash forward to Feb 1988: Mike Tyson weds actress Robin Givens in New York. God damn! that is the hot girl, ya know, the one from whats that movie called? Who cares... point is Mike Tyson beat the shit out of this chick on several occasions, enough for her to file for divorce and peace out. If Mike Tyson can knock Little Joe down with one punch, imagine a hot model actress with a tiny little frame. Damn, thass fuddup. ps--this was 4 months into the marriage.

All of a sudden, no more Mikey. No one knew where he went, but Duck Tales and Final Fantasy II were coming out and no one bothered to ask. Then again, 3 years later, out of nowhere:
18 Jul 1991 In his hotel room, boxer Mike Tyson rapes Desiree Washington, a Miss Black America contestant. Damn man, is wayne brady gonna have to choke a bitch? what the hell is wrong with you dude? Hitting and raping are not cool, even if you talk like a little bitch, byatch.

From there it is just a downward spiral. 6 years of prison, served 3. Bit a man's ear off. motorcycle crash. bar fight. arrest. knocks out a ref.

2002 speech: (note to media, dont give Tyson a mic, ever. ever ever.)
"I'm just like you. I enjoy the forbidden fruits in life, too. I think it's un-American not to go out with a woman, not to be with a beautiful woman, not to get my dick sucked ... It's just what I said before, everybody in this country is a big fucking liar...."

2003: Files for bankruptcy.

Damn the man, Damn the man.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

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Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo

Ha-mmer! Ha-mmer! Ha-mmer! Ahh yes, the shouts and cries for one of America's worst pop culture mistakes ever. When Hammer took the stage that night, everyone in the arena knew every word to every song. When he sang "Have You Seen Her" large black women stood on their seats and screamed for Stanley Kirk Burrell to take them away from Louisville, KY and onto a wild circus act of a concert that ended in 18 million dollars of debt. Thats right everyone, my first concert ever was that of MC Hammer in 1991. But i was just 11, a small boy who knew nothing of the wonders of good rock and roll...
(Interesting sidenote to this story is my 2nd concert was when i was 13, 6th row, front and center to smashing pumpkins siamese dream that was the shit)

This weekend, in Podunk, Tennessee, was the music festival Bonnaroo. I couldnt make it, but i didnt really want to make it either... mudflinging and endless hits of acid in the 90 degree heat trapped in a crowd of yuppie college kids trying to fake being hippies doesnt really interest me. I do not have creative rights to this, but i heard an ad slogan on the radio this morning: Bonnaroo-- 80,000 people, 60,000 range rovers. That pretty much sums it up for me....NO INTEREST. But only 2 people died out of 80,000 which (i guess?) is a positive thing right?

One of the little "icing on the cake" reasons i came to atlanta was because there would be a lot more concert events, seeing as how this is a real city compared to my small village back home. my first year here i went to 4 shows, one weekend was Pearl Jam Friday and Beastie Boys Saturday. Vicklanta has this thing called Music Midtown and although the past 2 years have sucked, it has usually been an amazing event for $40 and 3 days of music, drinking, token, and of course little high school girls who need beer from sketchy 21 year old guys.

But my favorite concerts of all time have definitely been Counting Crows shows. Ya ya, Chiu calls them a bunch of whiny bitches. But wouldnt you be whining about life if you had fucked Jennifer Aniston and Courtney Cox and then they peaced out on you?!? (ps-- fuck brad pitt) I have probably seen 5 or 6 counting crows shows and although i dont remember them all distinctly, i had a kickass time at all 5 or 6. one time i even lost my car, dude. As fate would have it, my favorite band is coming to atlanta one last time before they end their 4 year tour. my favorite band on my favorite day, my birthday! i am stoked, i got some lawn seats... hopefully take a little honey out there, sip on some shit (you can bring wine, champagne, whatev), maybe get some birthday head. head is mandatory on birthdays, right?

Anyway, if you feel like actually COMMENTING when you read my shit, stories of concerts would be most appreciated. Its always funny to laugh at those. Peace! g-g-g-g-g gggg unit.

Monday, June 14, 2004

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Movie Reviews for 6/14/04

So I have seen a bunch of movies this past week... you can see why.
The Day After Tomorrow-- The plot of this movie is that the world is on the brink of a major ice age and the only person who can save millions is Dennis Quaid. Now, I dont know how you all feel but I think Mr. Quaid should have halted all Hollywood appearances after his best movie to date. The movie has awesome special effects, dont get me wrong... it just seems like the director's previous movie independence day, except the aliens have been replaced by a worldwide snow storm. happy ending, son finds dad, son and dad find mom, everyone is happy. The world will go on. Bleh.

Harry Twatter and the Prisoner of Uzbekistan-- Call me a child, call me a loser, but i like this movie and the other two movies. Everyone is saying this one is darker... the only thing dark here is Hermayane's british unibrow. Damn, girl needs to get that shit tweezed. And could ronald grow some balls and try to stick that girl? I mean, when they are home in england from hogwarts and cant practice magic, thats cool... kick game with the mortal chicks. blame it on area codes. but dude, when you have a million spells and a chick that sweats your nuts pretty bad, youve got to give her the spitting dragon.

Raising Helen-- I actually havent seen this one, but I would just like to shout out to Kate Hudson. god damn, you are one of the hottest girls ever. please dump your loser husband so he can return to his failing music career and we can ride out your sugar momma status on our own private island.

Shrek 2-- tight movie, very funny. antonio banderas...if we could only keep you in cartoon form from here on out. but this guy stole the show. cameron diaz, why are you in cartoon form again?!? please begin to make real movies soon. fun fact: this is the second sequel movie Mike Meyers has created where in the first two weeks it outgrossed the entire gross of the previous movie. The first was Austin Powers. If you have not seen Shrek 1 or 2, go see them... just herb it up and youll enjoy.
Sorry I couldn't be more creative, but I have a major case of the Mondays. Yaaaa

PS-- ronald reagan, thanks for dropping out this past week. my government-approved vacation day friday was most enjoyable. sorry to be so insensitive, but fuck it...surprise fridays off are a close 2nd to payday fridays.

Friday, June 11, 2004

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Mullet Hunting

If you are ever on vacation, a concert, a gas station, and you are drunk, high, bored, there is one sport in this world that you can remain competitive no matter where or under the influence of whatever drugs. And that sport, my friends, is mullet hunting. if you google mullet, it returns 400,000 responses. Mullets, which were recently moved off the endangered species list, can sometimes be the sexiest hunting youll ever do. I remember my first mullet....

I was 10. My mother had stopped for gas and gave me money to go pay inside. I head to the counter and the most toothless, septic tank bathing, varmint of a man says to me is dat yer curr? what? isdat chur car? i couldnt answer, i couldnt even understand. i was mesmerized.... crunchy curls up front, long in the back, short on the sides? no way. no one would ever give THEMSELVES that style, right? oh but how wrong i was. little did i know, its been going on for years....

I can understand if where you are from doesnt issue mullet hunting permits. But in kentucky, where i am from, mullet hunting is similar to fish in a barrel. at the casinos, at the horse track, at the outlet malls, at the ford truck plant.... anywhere there could be some white trash, therein lies a mullet waiting to be found. They have all different varieties of mullets here.

Mullatinos Femullets Mullhawks
Mullatinos Femulletsmullhawks

When you do decide to go mullet hunting, make sure not to get too close. If a mullatino engages in conversation or worse, drinking tequila with his hunter, the consequences are catastrophic. your hair will lose it shimmer. your teeth definitely fall out. you start fixing up hogs and trannys on grand am coupes. your once acceptable obsession for smart women in tight packages is replaced by femullet chicks who love to open beer cans with their teeth and eat funnel cakes and pork rinds no matter what time of day. your house is sold so you can grab up one of them houses you see on the highway that is cut in half with the words WIDE LOAD on the back. hu hu, wide load, thats cool.

Mullets are a crazy species. They should have been taken out years ago in the coked out, strung out, "hair band" days of poison/def leppard/cinderella/warrant. Unfortunately, the mullet people adapt to whatever musical, or socio economical situation they find themselves in. No one is safe. Because who knows, your kid might have one too.

Hunt the Mullet. Fear the Mullet. Beware the Mullet.

Wednesday, June 09, 2004

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Little Bitch Cigarettes

So i went to work today around 10. 2nd one here. i sit down have a diet coke and write a blog. next, i get a call from my buddy dwelly and he wants to schmoke that thing we used to do back in the day. so i roll home and eat 2 slices of pizza. come back to work. blasting jkwon everybody in the club get tipsy.(ps-in hotlanta its errbuddy induh clu git tiiiipsy) guard at gate drills me when i am blitzed. didnt you used to drive a mustang? no man, no fords. you cant afford it? ya ya. well its the same as this. ya but this is my whip, my roommate drives a mustang but not me...i drive this. peace. park, walk past checkpoint 2. no comments. whew. go directly to smoker area do not pass go do not go back to cube jail. two hunnies sit smoking. upon further approach and inspection, 1 hunnie, 1 below the line. light up, talk to both hunnies, center in on hunnie for real. giggle, ha ha, giggle. i have fangs biatch dont test these mother fuckers. suddenly hunny #2 comes over. asian, tiny, raver, hottie. sits down puts down hello kitty cell phone. whips out the tiniest mother fucking cigs i have ever seen. asian label. i go, what kind of cigarettes are those? little bitch cigarettes

Man's Greatest Mystery

MIKE: How long do I wait to call?
TRENT: A day.
MIKE: Tomorrow?
TRENT: No...
SUE: ...Tomorrow, then a day.
MIKE: So, two days?
TRENT: Yeah. I guess you could call it that.
SUE: Definitely. Two days. That's the industry standard...
TRENT: ... I used to wait two days. Now everyone waits two days. Three days is kinda money now, don't you think?
TRENT: Laugh all you want, but if you call to soon you can scare off a nice baby who's ready to party.
SUE: Don't listen to him. You call whenever it feels right to you.
MIKE: How long are you guys gonna wait to call your honeys?
TRENT & SUE: Six days.
This classic argument between three 20ish "swingers" encapsulates man's greatest mystery... when in the hell are you supposed to call a girl? Whether guys like to admit it or not, we are always worried about what the real answer to the question is. If you call too soon you seem desperate for some action right? If you call too late its as if you werent even interested in the first place. Of course everyone says call when you feel comfortable, but that doesnt work because youre worried about whether that girl has a set "day" amount.

So to solve this shit once and for all, I have devised a calendar that all men (and women) can pay attention to and use to the best of their ability. Just make sure not to leave 5-7 voice mails on the day you're actually calling :)

If you get a girls number on a Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, you should call on a Thursday to try and carve out some weekend plans for Friday or Saturday.

If you get a girls number on a Thursday, you have to wait until mid-afternoon Saturday to do anything about it.

Here is where it gets a little tricky.... If you get a girls number on Friday night, you have several options.
A) If you were legitimately having good conversation, i.e. not this:
    Guy: Hey whats up girl, god damn you look good in that little skirt byatch
    Girl: What? I cant hear you. What?
    Guy: I said god damn i wanna bend you over this pool table and hate fuck you right now
    Girl: Still cant hear you buddy
    Guy: Can i just buy you a fucking drink and get your number?
    Girl: number is 404-555-1212 and my drink is a banana cognac, byatch.
And you got her number, got her some drinks, maybe even occupied each others time for over half hour, it is safe to say you are allowed to call the next day and see if she is down for doing some shit...i mean if she was interested enough to spend more than the allotted cheesey time you spend that first time, then its all good. Proceed as if its a green light.
B) If it was cool but not a green light kinda cool, you are absolutely not allowed to call back on saturday. You have to try and arrange a sopranos session on sunday or forget about the number until Monday when you can plan for that week.

Finally, if you get a girls number on a Saturday night then....what the fuck are you doing? Saturday nights are not good for getting numbers. First off, you should already be going out with the Wednesday-Friday crew at this point. Secondly, Saturdays cannot be called until Tuesday/Wednesday... thats way over the time and they know you dont have any interest. Just as a general fucking rule, on Saturday nights, you either take them home from the bar/club/whatever or you dont even bother. No need to stress yourself out over what day to call the Saturday chicks.

I hope this clears up any confusion we may have about the opposite sex. One thing that is of the utmost importance in regards to all phone calls. If you say you are going to call, there is no sin greater in a woman's mind than not calling when you said you were. Unless you tried to bring up anal.... thats definitely worse, definitely.


Tuesday, June 08, 2004

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My 3 day weekend

Well to the 4 people reading this thing, sorry about yesterday... but I did not come into work because of the crazy weekend i had. So Friday night I roll out to a party in the VA highlands. I didnt really feel like going but it was one of those situations where there were definitely going to be free booze, free brews, and potentially hot girls. (side note- why do people even say starts at 9:00 anymore? Everyone knows that isn't gonna happen. I equate 9:00 = 10ish. Hell, even 10:00 = 10ish. So why even drop the 9 in there?) Anyway, eventually the party was a nice size and filled out the apartment pretty well. We got nice and toasty and then went to Balls in Hand in a big crew. The only way to survive and have a chance to talk to other girls outside your table area is to have a big crew in the highlands....a good mix of guys and girls.
I (sorry) drove home afterwards and drunk dialed a few people. Then passed out until about 8 am. I had like unbelievable knotted and charred throat issues from all the mixing of beer and liquor and ciggies. So i get up and jet straight into the bathroom to pull the trigger. You know you shouldnt be driving the night before if you wake up and THEN puke and then get back in bed.
So I woke up again around noon, got directly into my bathing suit, and dove into the pool.
Eventually I left with my buddy Keith to go to Biloxi. by 5 pm CST, I was inside the casino trying to get on the list to play $1-4-8-8 hold em. Those of you who dont like cards, kiss my ass.... I have to tell the story for the benefit of those who do. I also played $1-5 7 card stud... i was brand new and definitely made the majority of my money in this game.
Keith and I sat next to each other because they opened a brand new table for 10 people. It was fun, we were playing pretty tight when about an hour in, a crazy huge pot happened.

10 players. My down cards were 3clubs/3spades. There was a raise pre flop and four of us stayed in (including my friend). Flop comes A 10 3 rainbow. I figure myself for the best hand by far, I had flopped a set. Bet $4, raise $4, re-raise $4, CAP!!! $4. holy shit, the four of us were betting and raising each other like crazy. Pot is worth $70. Turn comes A. Bet $8, raise $8, reraise $8. $168 pot. I have a full house and am thinking i am taking this thing down to china town. river comes 8 or some non significant card. Bet $8, raise $8. $224 pot. The other two guys at the end of the table turn over AK and AQ. All they had was 3 of a kind. I turn over my full house 3-3-3-A-A. My friend Keith had pocket 10s the whole time. 10-10-10-A-A. He took the whole thing down. mother fucker.

Anyway, after a session from 6pm-4am, we decided to go sleep in the car. Worst idea ever. I was so swassy and swally and nasty from the heat in the car, I felt like I had taken a sweat shower with a nice bottle of sweat shampoo. thrilling thought, yes? woke up at 8, grabbed breakfast, played until noonish. Then played roulette and won all my money back. I walked in there with $300 and walked out with $300. Dead even, minus the free drinks, food, gas money, and giant bacteria culture growing in our clothes, it was a pretty fun time.

Got back in time to blaze up, watch sopranos finale, and pass the FUCK out and sleep through my alarm for work the next day. That was my weekend, how was everyone else's?

Friday, June 04, 2004

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Payday Fridays

Before I had an actual job, and actual money to pay for shit that I wanted, my priorities on favorite days were all fucked up. Some weeks Tuesday was the best day.. $3.00 pitchers of PBR all night long at Moes and Hoes. Some weeks, Sunday was the best day because of all the NFL sportsbooking options. Hell when I was 11 I thought Thursdays were the best days because I got to fuck around at Hebrew School and eat a Kit Kat bar. But now, without a doubt, Fridays are the best fucking days on earth. And you know what day is even better than Friday? Payday Friday. Pay me, bitches!

"I know you don't smoke weed, I know this; but I'm gonna get you high today, 'cause it's Friday; you ain't got no job... and you ain't got shit to do."

If you dont know that quote stop reading, close the browser, never come here again. How damn good does it feel to geek out of work on a friday at like 4ish and its sunny as hell outside and you have a fat load of cash waiting to be spent over the next 2 weeks. I feel like Dave Chapelle when he leaves work in Half Baked and as soon as he steps outside he's like "FREEEEEE!!!" Of course, I'm no custodian...janitor, if you wanna be a dick about it.

So most Fridays I try to skance out a date with a girl who wants to get hella money spent on her. I mean, she gets to have a good time, I get to have a good time, its a good situation for all parties. When that (most of the time) fails to happen, I turn to any other activity besides a bar. Concerts if there are any, cool shit going on in this town, anything to spend some money and get fucked up and do something different. But some Fridays are meant for doing something chill...something to relax, get a little extra sleep in, because Saturday and Sunday are going to be crazy yo. What is a way that you can do something a little different from the standard weekend and still spend as much money as your heart desires?

Road Trip. And not just any road trip... not a trip into tents and camping and nature and all that shit. Fuck that shit. I am cruising down to where the gulf of mexico crashes into the white sand dunes, to where you can smell the salt in the air as soon as you cross the bridge, a place where dreams are made and shattered in the blink of an eye, where the donuts are warm, the hot dogs are rolling around on an endless loop just waiting for some freeloader to scoop one up on his quick bathroom/snack break, a place where grinding out 3 hours of sleep in the backseat is just easier than getting a hotel room, where the weather doesnt matter and time stands still because there are no clocks anywhere in site. Thats right mother fuckers, I am going to Biloxi Grand Casino this weekend.

Wish me luck!
(Although its not about luck in my game)

Thursday, June 03, 2004

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Ladies Night

I dont know if anyone saw this headline in the news today, but apparently some dude in New Jersey (Cherry Hill-- one of the jappiest places ever) decided to sue over the fact that there exists a concept called ladies night at bars. See this.

Here is a little excerpt: The director of New Jersey's Division on Civil Rights ruled Tuesday that Ladies' Night at a Cherry Hill bar and restaurant was discriminatory against men.

Dude, what the fuck is going on in this country? Why would the division of civil rights have any reason to pursue a law banning ladies nights? (that rhymed..tight) Dont they have anything better to do? Also, who is this idiot? Ladies nights, although extremely uncommon in vicklanta, are the best thing that could possibly happen to men who sue bars over the concept of a ladies night.

Pay attention buddy (and whoever else): more girls show up, more drinks cost less money, everyone wins. he must have had some serious social skill issues to make a hoopla over what i consider to be gods little slice of heaven on a random tuesday night. maybe i am just a p.i.m.p. but i feel like 99.9% of the population is with me on this one.

side rant:
Although they are not exactly ladies nights, the biggest fucking scam on college campuses today are these things called crush parties. Basically, two sororities get together and every girl in there gets to invite 2 or 3 guys to this huge drunkfest at a club. Of course, no girl pays attention to the 2-3 guys part...they invite whoever the fuck they want. guys feel like an invite somehow means they get to fuck at the end of the night.... but, night of the party, half the yatches stay home because they cant wear their Manolo Blahniks with this top and there is going to be a line to get in....and one thing about these emory girls, they definitely DO NOT wait in line. so the ratio at the 2:3 crush party has now become 1:7. Moussed up yankees rock their black pants with the fuck me blue shirt in an attempt to find the top 3 yatches and settle down with 1. Little do they know the girl who invited them is having a SATC rerun party at her place and could give a fuck about the mess of the crush party in the first place. Drink prices are skyhigh because instead of having ladies night specials, now everyone shells out $4 for beer and $6.50 for watered down popov and a splash of cranberry. The guys are frustrated because as they shove their way through the testosterone mass huddled at the bar, drop huge tabs on their credit cards, grab a drink for the chick that they just talked to, and scramble back through the club looking for the girl, they realize she has just gone to the bathroom with her 3 best friends now making the ratio in the room 1:11. At the end of the night they close out their tabs, catch a cab with all the guys they came with, drop cash on pizza and late night shit, wack off, and go to bed. God damn, I hated crush parties.

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

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haha, i am already an addict

yo, i just published that first blog and had to laugh out loud at the next thing that came up.

Publishing in Progress

Files published....0%

This may take a few minutes, if you have a large blog.
That shit is so funny. My blog is huge by the way. 8 inches. Around!!

p.s.-- free watermelon to anyone who can tell me how to insert pictures into blogs.

This town

Atlanta. Hotlanta. Why do people constantly feel the need to fuck with their town names. To solve this mystery and other conspiracies, tune in to Vicklanta. For all the hype of this place being "hot", there is mad evidence to prove otherwise.

Well that was the best intro i could muster....

The weather is it. whats not to love. the last time it rained 2 days in a row here was back when eddie murphy was actually funny.

There are a ton of bars to go would be nicer if the drinks were not 8 fucking dollars, but who's counting?

Sure, I cannot escape the Shiksa-ppeal of these ridiculously pretty, pale, blonde barbie dolls that live here. Who grew up on a georgia education which ranks 47th out of 51 (including puerto rico). Who dont know about all the wonders of the bigger, realer cities, i.e. up in NYC. big shout out to biggie. haha. The girls who sound like they are cracked out worse than Tyrone Biggums and drawl out their words longer than Ron Jeremy. Hey yaaaaaaalllllll. damn, that word is the worst. Girls who list god, jesus, and creed concerts as their top 3 most important aspirations in life. Yatches who go to UGA from their small hometowns, find some doosh in khaki shorts and rip-off ralph lauren t-shirts with the collar flipped up who like to drink burrr and kick some ass, realize they are going to be pulling in just under 6 figures managing their ma and pa's tractor trailer truck farm, and cling to these losers until they inevitably produce a middies-size rock at the age of 21 and get married and disappear.

Damn that sounded like a Rant ala Dennis Miller.

And now I am drawing a blank. This "blog" as the hipster artsy writer types like to call it -- me being an internet whore at work 9-5 -- is inspired to serve as a distraction to all other jockers that roll around the internet looking for entertaining, brainless, and mostly (funny?) shit to read.

Hope you enjoy.