Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Tiny Urinals where they need not be!
I work in an office building and we occupy one office of maybe 10. Bathrooms on 1st and 2nd floor. 2 urinals in each bathroom. Why, why is one of those urinals 8 inches from the ground? Who is bringing their kids to work with them? A person that small would have trouble climbing onto one of the toilets to use it so why not a tiny toilet too? I have to purposely aim down or take a step back and let gravity do the work in order to keep from peeing over the urinal onto the wall. Aiming down I have to look down at my willy the whole time and thats fine with me, but the guy next to me thinks I'm weird. taking a step back gives the weird guy next to me full gawking privileges at my hog. Its not cool. There is no reason that urinal should be so low. Its preposterous.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Rugby by the River
Rugby is the ultimate combination of drinking, camaraderie, competition and violence. The team's flight left at 5am, boarding at 4:30. So we did what any good rugby team would do, met up for drinks Thursday night then went to the strip club, then waffle house and finally to the airport. waited a bit got on the plane. Had a few drinks at our connection, landed at our destination. At this point we had about 24hrs until our first game and we were all running on fumes... alcoholic fumes. I was driving one of the rented vans to the hotel, about an hour away, and when we stopped for a red light I fell asleep at the wheel. DING! time to change drivers.
Friday night the team split up with half of us going out to find some of the other teams and the other half drinking at the hotel. Saturday was cold and looked like it was gonna rain. We lost two games to really good teams and commenced to get drunk. They sold beer on the fields and you're surrounded by hundreds of other like minded individuals. That night we found a Karaoke bar and took that place over. We were singing everything from Air Supply to Sublime. The French team showed up as well as a few of the NYU players and added some spice to the mix. We shut that place down at 2am and headed back to the hotel. With guys puking out of the van window, splattering it on the side, peeing off the second story onto the other van and arguing in the parking lot I say he had a good night.
Sunday morning we all looked like hammered shit, and rolled up to the field about 30 minutes before our 10am game.I was surprised how well we did. Not a single one of us threw up on the field. We either did it before the game or at half time haha. The field had been rained on all night and it was like playing in a swamp. We lost that game by a close margin, and were done for the tournament. That meant we had ALL day Sunday to get rip roaring drunk with the other teams.
Most of the team started at this immediately. However one of the teams that beat us Saturday, Smurfit Graduate Business school in Dublin, had suffered some injuries and came and found us to ask if we had some guys who would play with them in the semi finals. Myself and one more played with them and beat London Business School. They asked me to play with them in the finals and got one more of our team as well. We beat Harvard in the finals and Smurfit took the championship. Drinking with the Irish is a hell of a good time. I'm still recovering from a mix of the games and the celebrations two days later. I might have to apply to that school and continue my education.
Friday night the team split up with half of us going out to find some of the other teams and the other half drinking at the hotel. Saturday was cold and looked like it was gonna rain. We lost two games to really good teams and commenced to get drunk. They sold beer on the fields and you're surrounded by hundreds of other like minded individuals. That night we found a Karaoke bar and took that place over. We were singing everything from Air Supply to Sublime. The French team showed up as well as a few of the NYU players and added some spice to the mix. We shut that place down at 2am and headed back to the hotel. With guys puking out of the van window, splattering it on the side, peeing off the second story onto the other van and arguing in the parking lot I say he had a good night.
Sunday morning we all looked like hammered shit, and rolled up to the field about 30 minutes before our 10am game.I was surprised how well we did. Not a single one of us threw up on the field. We either did it before the game or at half time haha. The field had been rained on all night and it was like playing in a swamp. We lost that game by a close margin, and were done for the tournament. That meant we had ALL day Sunday to get rip roaring drunk with the other teams.
Most of the team started at this immediately. However one of the teams that beat us Saturday, Smurfit Graduate Business school in Dublin, had suffered some injuries and came and found us to ask if we had some guys who would play with them in the semi finals. Myself and one more played with them and beat London Business School. They asked me to play with them in the finals and got one more of our team as well. We beat Harvard in the finals and Smurfit took the championship. Drinking with the Irish is a hell of a good time. I'm still recovering from a mix of the games and the celebrations two days later. I might have to apply to that school and continue my education.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Near Miss
So softball tournaments, in my mind, are for day drinking. Tournament starts at 10:40 so does the drinking. Only problem is by the second game, I'm buzzed enough to think sliding into home is a perfectly acceptable strategy for a guy wearing shorts and low socks. Not only did I get tagged out, but I had a bleeding open sore to remind me of my failures for the rest of the game and beyond. Luckily the same inebriation that helped me slide helped me not feel it. So after our astonishing 0-2 elimination from the tournament, my team "Kenny Powerballz" headed to the bar for a game recap. after multiple rounds of pitchers it was time to head to a friend's birthday party/ BBQ. Their apt has a court yard with a gazebo and a grill. Really fun area to hang out. People kept showing up from out of town to Surprise the birthday girl. These same people are part of our big time drinking circle from college.
When we all ge together its like a UN summit, but instead of world leaders its world drinkers. and we're open to all different forms of alcohol and methods of drinking it. There was beers, shots (old granddad) mixed drinks, pre-ban surplus of energy booze (tilt four loco Juice), and last but not least.... MD 20 20. Oh man, it all kinda blurred together and after flip cup I don't have anything to tell you except my next coherent thought was "I'm going to throw up"
So I lean over an put my hand on the back of a car, throwing up just off the curb from a seated position, twice. It was at that moment when I realized I had no fucking clue where I was. I did a quick status check, and realized I had my wallet and phone, but not my keys or shoes. So I gathered my senses enough to check my phone for where the fuck I was. Luckily the address of the party was still in the recent search history. I pulled it up and I was about 6 blocks away. At this point I'm also aware its about 2 am and I'm still dressed in athletic clothes from the softball game, and I'm cold. So I start my staggering walk back. Luckily the only thing that happened to my bear feet on the walk back was an extreme case of "the black foot." I mean the soles of my feet were absorbing all light. They were so black they looked like toast when you had the damn thing set to bagel.
So As I walked back, I passed my car. I checked the driver door, locked. Damn, keep on motoring. I make it back to the apt, and no one is there and the door is locked. Well shit! I go and sit down in the gazeebo and just wait. Someone will surely arrive back at this place. eventually some people from the party earlier DO come back, but they don't have keys either. The owners come home eventually and we go in, I make a brief search and inquiry about my keys and maybe shoes finding neither. I gave up at this point it was late and dark and I was still pretty hammered. I'd go look for my missing items in the morning.
I slept pretty soundly except for listening to a small group of friends arguing about whether or not the bum they were hanging out with outside was Lesie Cochran or an impostor. The Dude is pretty easily recognizable, so I just assumed it was him. The next morning the place had cleared out. It was me and the residents left. A glass of OJ and then a screw driver (sometimes you have to trick your body into accepting booze during hang over mode) had me on my bare feet and looking around for shoes and keys. I borrowed some shoes and headed for my car. Walking up to it on the passenger side of the street I can see the passenger side rear door is not closed all the way. I quicken my pace and when I pull the handle, it opens! there inside is a wadded up jacket, which looks like a pillow, a pare of discarded socks tennis shoes and my KEYS laying on the seat in plain sight. I was so lucky some random person, bum or thief didn't choose to try and open my unlocked partially closed door and do as they wish with my car. So relieved and a little freaked out I grabbed my keys and began to walk back, before realizing I should just drive my car back since there would be parking available now. I was crowned Epic Recovery Champion of the Day upon my return. I feel very lucky that nothing bad happened because of my time traveling evening, and I nearly avoided having a stolen or violated car. I'm not sure what would have been worse, having it stolen or a bunch of hobos using it as some sort of bang bus.
When we all ge together its like a UN summit, but instead of world leaders its world drinkers. and we're open to all different forms of alcohol and methods of drinking it. There was beers, shots (old granddad) mixed drinks, pre-ban surplus of energy booze (tilt four loco Juice), and last but not least.... MD 20 20. Oh man, it all kinda blurred together and after flip cup I don't have anything to tell you except my next coherent thought was "I'm going to throw up"
So I lean over an put my hand on the back of a car, throwing up just off the curb from a seated position, twice. It was at that moment when I realized I had no fucking clue where I was. I did a quick status check, and realized I had my wallet and phone, but not my keys or shoes. So I gathered my senses enough to check my phone for where the fuck I was. Luckily the address of the party was still in the recent search history. I pulled it up and I was about 6 blocks away. At this point I'm also aware its about 2 am and I'm still dressed in athletic clothes from the softball game, and I'm cold. So I start my staggering walk back. Luckily the only thing that happened to my bear feet on the walk back was an extreme case of "the black foot." I mean the soles of my feet were absorbing all light. They were so black they looked like toast when you had the damn thing set to bagel.
So As I walked back, I passed my car. I checked the driver door, locked. Damn, keep on motoring. I make it back to the apt, and no one is there and the door is locked. Well shit! I go and sit down in the gazeebo and just wait. Someone will surely arrive back at this place. eventually some people from the party earlier DO come back, but they don't have keys either. The owners come home eventually and we go in, I make a brief search and inquiry about my keys and maybe shoes finding neither. I gave up at this point it was late and dark and I was still pretty hammered. I'd go look for my missing items in the morning.
I slept pretty soundly except for listening to a small group of friends arguing about whether or not the bum they were hanging out with outside was Lesie Cochran or an impostor. The Dude is pretty easily recognizable, so I just assumed it was him. The next morning the place had cleared out. It was me and the residents left. A glass of OJ and then a screw driver (sometimes you have to trick your body into accepting booze during hang over mode) had me on my bare feet and looking around for shoes and keys. I borrowed some shoes and headed for my car. Walking up to it on the passenger side of the street I can see the passenger side rear door is not closed all the way. I quicken my pace and when I pull the handle, it opens! there inside is a wadded up jacket, which looks like a pillow, a pare of discarded socks tennis shoes and my KEYS laying on the seat in plain sight. I was so lucky some random person, bum or thief didn't choose to try and open my unlocked partially closed door and do as they wish with my car. So relieved and a little freaked out I grabbed my keys and began to walk back, before realizing I should just drive my car back since there would be parking available now. I was crowned Epic Recovery Champion of the Day upon my return. I feel very lucky that nothing bad happened because of my time traveling evening, and I nearly avoided having a stolen or violated car. I'm not sure what would have been worse, having it stolen or a bunch of hobos using it as some sort of bang bus.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Strip Club Mode
So, this past weekend my friend was in town for his birthday. And he LOVES strips clubs, and if I could get by the huge expenditure of them, I'd love 'em too. Whats not to love actually? The music is usually pretty good and you get to drink and look at naked women, who if you pick the right club are mostly attractive.
Unfortunately as I'm not a regular at these types of establishments I can almost never get out of them without what I refer to as the pity dance. I don't know all the tricks so often times I'm unprepared when one of the bottom shelf strippers perches on my lap. Talks to me for a while and guilts me into paying for a dance. And its a total waste of her time and mine, cause I'm not into it. And it wastes my money. My buddy, who's completely in his element at the club gives me all this advice on how to avoid this after the fact when he's making fun of me for picking the WORST stripper in the club. So adding these new tools to my strip club arsenal we carry on with the night. I'd say the two highlights of the evening were, the line "how'd you like some titties in your face?" because how do you say, "nah! I'm not into it" and the door girl ended up being a stripper as well, which is great because so many times you don't get to see the hot door girl or hot waitress get naked.
Which brings me to my final point. After spending a few hours at the strip club getting wasted and trying to be a discerning lap dancee, you're ready to go out on the town. Its at this point where my brain gets stuck in strip club mode. Any attractive woman I see, I immediately want to see naked, I find my hand reaching all on its own for the remaining singles in my pocket. It can be incredibly frustrating to go from a bar where you can see almost any woman you want up close and naked to a bar where that is completely unacceptable. Its at this point where strip club mode + alcohol+public = hilarity. I watched my buddy hit on almost anything. At one point he was standing in the center of what must have been some kind of German basketball team. They were ALL taller than him and he's probably 5'10" or 11". it was great! He finished the night by throwing himself at this girl who rejected his advances continually. I actually, partially blame her for his repeated attempts. She never actually gave him a definitive "no I'm not interested." It was more of a "I can't I have a boyfriend." "My boyfriend will kill you, he's enormous." My friend clearly was too drunk and horny (strip club mode) to give a shit.
Strip club mode is dangerous boys and girls, and its difficult to turn off. The best recommendations I can offer are:
1. Go to the strip club during the day. Leaving during the day always has a shocking effect after being in the dark and naked corners of the club.
2. Find some release. your hand your girlfriend/boyfriend wife/husband, the champagne room, find something or your brain can become locked in Strip Club mode.
3. Get so drunk you don't give a shit. You won't be able to tell if you're in strip club mode or bar mode or stealing a police horse mode. It'll all be the same.
In the words of the most interesting man in the world,
I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I beat my wife and kids savagely.
Unfortunately as I'm not a regular at these types of establishments I can almost never get out of them without what I refer to as the pity dance. I don't know all the tricks so often times I'm unprepared when one of the bottom shelf strippers perches on my lap. Talks to me for a while and guilts me into paying for a dance. And its a total waste of her time and mine, cause I'm not into it. And it wastes my money. My buddy, who's completely in his element at the club gives me all this advice on how to avoid this after the fact when he's making fun of me for picking the WORST stripper in the club. So adding these new tools to my strip club arsenal we carry on with the night. I'd say the two highlights of the evening were, the line "how'd you like some titties in your face?" because how do you say, "nah! I'm not into it" and the door girl ended up being a stripper as well, which is great because so many times you don't get to see the hot door girl or hot waitress get naked.
Which brings me to my final point. After spending a few hours at the strip club getting wasted and trying to be a discerning lap dancee, you're ready to go out on the town. Its at this point where my brain gets stuck in strip club mode. Any attractive woman I see, I immediately want to see naked, I find my hand reaching all on its own for the remaining singles in my pocket. It can be incredibly frustrating to go from a bar where you can see almost any woman you want up close and naked to a bar where that is completely unacceptable. Its at this point where strip club mode + alcohol+public = hilarity. I watched my buddy hit on almost anything. At one point he was standing in the center of what must have been some kind of German basketball team. They were ALL taller than him and he's probably 5'10" or 11". it was great! He finished the night by throwing himself at this girl who rejected his advances continually. I actually, partially blame her for his repeated attempts. She never actually gave him a definitive "no I'm not interested." It was more of a "I can't I have a boyfriend." "My boyfriend will kill you, he's enormous." My friend clearly was too drunk and horny (strip club mode) to give a shit.
Strip club mode is dangerous boys and girls, and its difficult to turn off. The best recommendations I can offer are:
1. Go to the strip club during the day. Leaving during the day always has a shocking effect after being in the dark and naked corners of the club.
2. Find some release. your hand your girlfriend/boyfriend wife/husband, the champagne room, find something or your brain can become locked in Strip Club mode.
3. Get so drunk you don't give a shit. You won't be able to tell if you're in strip club mode or bar mode or stealing a police horse mode. It'll all be the same.
In the words of the most interesting man in the world,
I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I beat my wife and kids savagely.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Streaking
I was in a bar on the coast not too long ago. And before we get started I just want to suggest to everyone that being good looking and/or blond isn't going to cut it if you're a bar tender. Unless you've got barbacks or something to back you up. Not knowing how to tap a keg or how the tap system works is inexcusable. Although, on the plus side, I do know how to tap a keg and turn OFF the untapped kegs to not waste pressure, so I had an open tab for the evening. This fact led me to the subject in the title. Getting really hammered and singing and rough housing with my buddies. We have a song that basically, you pick out a girl and we all sing t other and try to get her to flash us. She didn't, not even after multiple versus and an endearing chorus. I even picked her up on my shoulders and danced around a bit. I couldn't tell if she was into it, because she was over my head, but as drunk as I was I'm just glad I didn't fall over.
So, she didn't flash us, and I thought I'd come up with a full proof way to convince her. Follow my drunken math here. Me + copious amounts of booze + a shy girl = me showing her that same is over rated. But not just flashing the bar like we wanted her to do. I decided that I'd run down to the water naked and go for a swim. Luckily some others followed my drunken logic and joined me in the fun run. Here's where the plan goes to shit. Looking out at the water it really doesn't look that far, especially at night, while drunk. We started booking it for the water only to realize after crossing the street and making it half way across the beach we're all exhausted. We have to make it to the water then BACK? oh fuck this! Hitting the Water was also an incredibly sobering experience. It was probably in the mid 70s but the water was COLD. So now we're tired, cold, shrunk, and we have to run all the way back. We walked most of the beach and picked it back up for a run when we got near the road.
Those fuckers at the bar, who didn't run with us, had amassed outside on the curb. As we got closer I saw something didn't look right, but was too tired to care. Right when we got on the sidewalk they unloaded pitchers of ice water onto us. That normally would have sucked to high heaven, but I was so hot and tired from the run and I was already in full shrinkage mode from the coastal waters, I didn't even flinch. I just headed in side collected my clothes and got dressed. I felt almost completely sober at this point, and that is not the time you want to be sober. Everyone just got to see my shrunken dick and my white ass, and now I'm clear headed. The shy girl came up to me, and still wouldn't show off the goods but she did buy me a shot, so I got her one on my tab.
I'll have to go back there sometime.
So, she didn't flash us, and I thought I'd come up with a full proof way to convince her. Follow my drunken math here. Me + copious amounts of booze + a shy girl = me showing her that same is over rated. But not just flashing the bar like we wanted her to do. I decided that I'd run down to the water naked and go for a swim. Luckily some others followed my drunken logic and joined me in the fun run. Here's where the plan goes to shit. Looking out at the water it really doesn't look that far, especially at night, while drunk. We started booking it for the water only to realize after crossing the street and making it half way across the beach we're all exhausted. We have to make it to the water then BACK? oh fuck this! Hitting the Water was also an incredibly sobering experience. It was probably in the mid 70s but the water was COLD. So now we're tired, cold, shrunk, and we have to run all the way back. We walked most of the beach and picked it back up for a run when we got near the road.
Those fuckers at the bar, who didn't run with us, had amassed outside on the curb. As we got closer I saw something didn't look right, but was too tired to care. Right when we got on the sidewalk they unloaded pitchers of ice water onto us. That normally would have sucked to high heaven, but I was so hot and tired from the run and I was already in full shrinkage mode from the coastal waters, I didn't even flinch. I just headed in side collected my clothes and got dressed. I felt almost completely sober at this point, and that is not the time you want to be sober. Everyone just got to see my shrunken dick and my white ass, and now I'm clear headed. The shy girl came up to me, and still wouldn't show off the goods but she did buy me a shot, so I got her one on my tab.
I'll have to go back there sometime.
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