Biggest Inside Joke Ever

This movie is going to be remade by Ashton Kutcher in 3...2...1....

Pro tip: Try to avoid doing google searches on the word "hunk." You might also want to avoid searches on "tentacle." Trust me.

Fun Fact: If you google search "centaur penis" you may find this blog for some reason.

Wax On. Wax Off. (Or, There is no mercy in this dojo Mr. Lawrence)

I was getting my drinking out of the way for the week last night with a jagermesiter shooting schoolteacher. Due to a busy holiday seasonish week, I had to efficiently pack in a bunch of beers on Tuesday night. It was my first drinking session since my half a beer last Friday night. Drinking has totally lost its luster since I purchased and absolutely fell in love with an Xbox 360. Throw in a bigger TV that my sister's boyfriend gave me and it's been like Christmas at my apartment since last Saturday. There's no tree or anything, but there is cool shit to play with.

I'm like three gift cards and a case of wine short of finishing Christmas shopping. Things are going relatively well. Plus, my hair is really cooperating. That means a lot in this weather. It's really due to the Bumble & Bumble Sumowax, but I had to learn how to use it. Holy crap. I can't believe I just admitted to using that produck. It costs a fortune for very small amounts, but it lasts forever.

Oh, so the reason I was writing was because some chick that spoke no-English came into the bar while myself and the dudes were playing golf (I was whipping ass) and handed us this flyer for La Jolie Nail Spa. I studied marketing in college and I wouldn't call this a targeted campaign. Unless they are a rub & tug, it really didn't make sense to give it to a bunch of dudes. It's not really the mani pedi crowd. I am a reader, however, so I was reading it between strokes on the game and learned about hands and feet treatments. I found massage add-ons interesting and was disappointed that they didn't have "happy ending" listed. That would be funny.

Now, here is that part that I never knew about, but was curious about. It's the world of waxing. Both location and cost interested me and now I know both kinda. So, eyebrow, lip and chin are ten or fifteen bucks. Ummm. You can have your sideburns waxed for fifteen bucks, too. That creates an awful image in my head, but reminds me of my high school girlfriend. Oh, I mean fiancee. So dumb. She was hairy and had hair that looked like Darth Vader's helmet. She has two kids now. Good Job!

Hey, that's interesting. The boy in an engagement is called the fiance with one "e" and the girl is fiancee with two "e"s. I've been engaged twice and never knew that. I do, however, know that if the dude wears an engagement ring it's hecka gay.

Okay, so. I'm wondering what a "Brazilian-Take-it-all" is. It's $60 and if it's what I think it is, it is awesome. Next is half legs upper and half legs lower. Why would you only get the lower or upper done by themselves? That would be awesome. You're all getting on some chick and you put your hand on her awesome, smooth, hairless lower leg and you move your hand up and it's some atrocious hairy upper leg that feels like when you put your own hands down your pants to adjust your underwear during a work day because underwear is for work and formal events only.

Next is the underarms (armpits) for fifteen bucks. I'd recommend that. In fact, I'd pay for it on some jeans under the dress wearing hippies. There is also full arms and half arms. Again, it's perplexing to think about only getting half the arm done. Or, perhaps, even having half arms. Then, there is chest waxing for thirty five bucks. I'd imagine that is primarily for dudes because chicks with that weird hair on their areola can just pluck them. Yeah, I went there and yes, I've seen it.

Lastly, is the back wax. This is kind of a no brainer. When you hit thirty, you start to find hair in the weirdest places. When I had a girlfriend the few stray upper back, half back and shoulder hairs were sparse and manageable. She would enjoy yanking them out. As our relationship started dissolving she found enjoyment putting rubbing alcohol on all my soccer related burns. I think she liked the way I would scream and tear up when she did that. It is what it is. I think it helped sustain the relationship for a little while longer. Anyway, the main problem that sprouted up has been this weird lower back hair, my half back, if you will. I'm starting to understand spa terminology. The hair starts low and starts moving like ivy up your back. It's not a big deal yet, but you can tell that someday I'm going to have to quit doing yoga with a beard trimmer and either find a girlfriend or life partner or go get waxed. I'm scared that once I'm there I won't be able to stop and I'll just let them have it all. My whole body would look like nylons with no hair, but the idea of it is interesting.

The next hair area that I noticed after 30 was my ears. I found a random long hair sticking out of my ear. Not IN the ear, but there is a fuzz on the outside of my ear. I hate it. I can't even imagine if it was dark and coarse. I would become a recluse and if anyone saw me I would yell "Don't look at me! I'm a monster!"

You also get the long hairs coming out of your nostrils after 30. It's not a big deal, but that nose trimmer that you made fun of in the Sky Mall catalog soon becomes less funny and more necessary. I wonder if they could wax my nostrils. That would hurt and would definitely make you sneeze. Maybe it's like cat's whiskers and humans need their nose hair to find their way in the dark. So, I would get my nose hair waxed and then that night my house would get broken into and I would walk into the hallway in the dark and walk into a door knocking myself out because I didn't have any nose hair to find my way in the dark. That could definitely happen.

Here is a shout out for all the cat lovers. Here is a preview and click that link:

"When you can't own your own cat, Petz Catz 2 is the next best thing. Visit your lovable bundle of fur anytime and enjoy hours of fun with your furry friend. You'll never have to worry about cleaning the litter box or visiting the vet. With more than 40 different breeds to choose from, the only hard part is choosing which one."

Van Halen

I'm fortunate enough that a good friend grabbed me a Van Halen ticket for this Saturday. I've been looking forward to this since 1984. So, I don't even remember how I came across this little gem, but I remember when it came out. Pro tip: don't name your band after a Star Wars reference.

The song is brilliant, though. An homage to the DLR era of Van Halen and not the dark Empire Strikes Back years of Van Halen't. I saw DLR play at the Solano County Fair and it blew doors on anything that Van Hagar ever did. That's including the fucking Crystal Pepsi commercial. And all Diamond Dave had at his disposal was mic stand kung-fu, the bass player of White Lion (James Lomenzo), and apple juice in a whiskey bottle. I heart that man.

Nerf Herder - Van Halen



Oh fuck. I just found this from Oakland in 1981. This is why a time machine needs to be invented. This would be a stop on my time machine tour. This is sick.

This Next Blog Is The First Blog

Cheap Trick at Budokan: The Complete Concert is awesome. Robin Zander is at his peak and has in-between-song banter that isn't written by someone else and is used every night. Rick Nielsen is just tight. He is never over-the-top and is always playing to serve the song. As a whole, the two-cd set is pretty much a primer of how to move a crowd and play a perfect live show.

As for the consumer, it's not so great in the Winter time, but would be great to play while you clean your apartment with the heater turned up real high. This album is perfectly suited for drinking cheap beer while hanging out in someone's backyard in lawn chairs with your shirt off while being accosted by barbecue smoke. Perhaps, it is warranted of the term BBQ Music.

Mistakes Were And Will Continue To Be Made...

So, this weekend while out in public doing research on people in general, I overheard this conversation between a bunch of women. When I say reasearch, by the way, I mean buying coffee, buying new pants and trying to ignore loudtalkers.

"Well, my boyfriend hasn't really been over to my apartment yet because I don't really like it."

Her friend replys, "My boyfriend hasn't even met my cats yet and we've been together for five months."

So, after taking in this new data and feeding it into my calculations of self-worth I realized that it's not so bad being single because it could be worse. For instance, I could have a girlfriend that has not met my cats if I had any. Q: The only thing weirder than cat ladys, by the way? A: Cat men.

Sorry, Pappy. You know better than to take things in the blog personally.

I'm officially writing down "Cat Ladys" on my dealbreakers list. It's not real high on the list because exceptions could be made and cats could be lost. Oh my shit. What if you hooked up with a girl and then things went really well and you both liked each other and you moved in totgether, but she had a cat?

So, in the process of moving her into your place or moving into a way better place, you "accidentally" lose her cat so that you can pursue a much more fruitious (that's right, bitch. fruitious) life down the road. If this happened and you managed to salvage the relationship between you and her after severing the substitutious relationship that was fostered between your girlfriend and her cat, you would get to say "Mistakes were made, but we are going to learn from this and move forward."

"Mistakes were made" is hands-down my favorite phrase right now. I'm using it at work a lot to amuse myself unbeknownst to anyone else. It's like the three months that I used "How we roll" in a business situation and managed to inject it into our workplace vernacular. My boss actually used it in a meeting one time and I had to leave the meeting to go use the restroom and laugh my ass off.

So, it being the holiday season and me being relatively vain. I've come up with the ultimate gift for mother. It's a wallbanger of myself vacuuming or cooking. If you watch sports you have probably seen the commercials for fatheads. Fatheads are for NASCAR, Star Wars, Football, baseball, Hannah "Who the fuck is Hannah..." Montana, etc. Wallbangers are the English version of them that they play on Fox Soccer Channel.

So, anyway, they are giant posters for your wall if you live in the MidWest or are under 14. I really don't see any other place for these. You can, however, get a wallbanger made custom now. So, you can get them of yourself playing sports like team ttf, the queen, becca, or kevin 11 24/7.

So, cool. Those guys are participating in some form of recreational activity. Kevin has some dope sandals on and Becca is doing the robot superaggressively, I think. I can see the merit in getting these made for yourself if you truly think of yourself as awesome.

There is a dark underbelly to this product, though. There are the people that get wallbangers of their cats. For instance, meet Trouble. Trouble fills that hole of loneliness and despair that his owner feels late at night while she watches seasons of Sex and the City and thinks about how she is never going to meet a guy like McDreamy from Grey's Anatomy. Then, we have Gizmo. Gizmo was pulled from a fight with a raccoon at 3:00 A.M by his owner and inadvertently caused the owner to have to get a rabies shot. Immediately following that altercation, the owner had to pay $1200 for emergency cat pancreatic surgery. Yeah, cat people. You made the list.

Holy crap. I just saw a wallbanger in the gallery of someone's truck. Cat people, I'm taking it back and you guys are getting moved up a peg to make room for car people. My apologies.

Please check out the wallbanger gallery.

This is a late entry, but OMG, this is the best one hands down. The kid's name is Beetle and he has a shirt on that says American Cornhole. That sounds like a Kid Rock album. I thnk he is throwing bean bags. This kid just made my day.

TMI (Totally Maladjusted Individual)

I haven't been blogging, duh. I've been regrouping. To be completely honest, I was losing my way a bit...for like the hundredth time. It was still better than last year at this time, which was better than the previous year, etc.. So, here's what's been going down.

I went to the Big Game last weekend and never made it past the tailgate phase due to weather and the Civil War. I wanted to catch the end of the Oregon game and I was also contemplating setting a trash can on fire (Hobo Heater) at the tailgate. So, my hetero companion and I ended up at our bar that we go to after soccer games. It was warm, there was beer, and the games were on. It was pretty nice. I was supposed to go to my company holiday party at 7:30 that night and was persuaded out of it by about 7 people. I felt loved. Then I felt loaded. We got home pretty early and I tucked my hetero companion into couch. Technically, he passed out and I threw a blanket on him as I went to bed. Would that be called chivalry? Is there gay chivalry?

Anyway, Sunday blew donkey balls and I spent most of it on the couch catching up on soccer games from the day before and getting a little bit of work done. Jesus, my day makes church kind of look exciting. At least you get to get dressed up at church and interact with people. I realized at the end of the day on Sunday as I went to bed that I had not said a word all day. That's creepy. I hadn't even made a sound. Not even a grunt of pain as I wracked my toe against the corner of the coffee table.

Monday came. Tuesday came and I had a doctor's appointment. It was a dermatologist for a seasonal affected scalp irritation. That's right ladies; he's single. I've sat on this blog entry for two days now and decided that the main rule of this blog is unabridged honesty as long as it is entertaining and artistic exclusion to protect those acquaintances of mine that don't need to be dragged through my mud. So, this is embarrassing, but it's part of the deal. Let the chips fall where they may when it's about me.

So, I'm at the dermatologist and he checks out the scalp and gives me some shampoo. He then asks if there is anything else and I tell him that I should probably get my yearly STD test with it being Christmas time and everything. I think my last one was right around Thanksgiving so it was time. It had been an interesting year. Plus, due to recent events I was considering the peace of mind that a clean slate would be.

So, next thing I know, a man has my penis in his hand. It was kind of funny as I stood up while he put on his gloves and I said "What do I do?"

He looked back at me and just said "Drop 'em."

Now, to a relatively young heterosexual male, lab coat or not, getting a professional HJ from a man is uncomfortable. It gets even more uncomfortable when he asks you if you participate in Receptive Anal Sexual Activity. I'll spare the reader a wikipedia link there.

I looked back and said "Well, you know I experimented in college...No, dude."

So, we finished the hands-on exam and I got to go give blood and urine. See? This is the part where I am awesome. I knew I would have to give urine so I didn't use the restroom when I got to the office. This solves two problems. No pee dribbles on your undergarments and you have pee to put in the bottle. This dude is smart and seasoned. Plus, I couldn't even imagine this happening, but a spontaneous eighth grade chalkboard erection would make all parties uncomfortable during an exam and having a full tank helps this out.

Before I get to blood and urine, I would just like to point out that I'm disgusting and twisted for even writing about this, but it's happened to everyone. I swear.

So, I sign the HIV consent form saying that if they blow it I won't blame them. It's a scary form to sign for sure. I went into the lab and let the extern (I'm not sure what this means) tap a vein. I'm very vascular and she brought over three other phlebotomists to help her choose which one to poke. I guess I have the veins that phlebotomists like. She handed me a little squeezeball and then jabbed me. She did something wrong because nothing was coming out. My first thought was that this was the part where everyone finds out that I had actually been dead and no longer had blood, but I could feel it pulling. It fucking hurt bad. The oldest one came over and tweaked it a bit and the pressure let off and I gave them some blood.

The last part is the best. She handed me a biohazard bag and the bottle. She made a small mark with a Sharpie to set my goal and went and did my business. As I walked back from the bathroom, I was very nonchalant with my bag of biohazard urine and made my way down the hall without anyone noticing that I had a fist full of piss...until I bumped into the hot doctor lady.

Seriously, she was super hot like the doctors on House or any of those other doctor shows on TV. There should be a word for when you see a hot doctor, nurse, or stewardess. I used the word stewardess because there are no hot flight attendants on domestically run airlines because the ugly ones complained.

When this happened I felt like I was holding a five gallon trash can of pee with both hands. It wasn't a full-on collision worthy of a "Pardon me," but instead was a light graze enough to gain attention from the grazee, however, it was still obvious that I had been peeing in a bottle that gets put in a bag with biohazard written on it.

So, obviously after having my penis in a dude's hand, signing an HIV consent form, giving blood and peeing in a cup, I'm not really super in the mood or throwing game at all, but she was hot. It was still okay to say something charming and smart. NOPE! There is no line nor game when you have pee in your hand. I merely skulked back to the lab and dropped off my specimen and got the hell out of there feeling flush and about six years old.

Hoping for a clean slate on Friday and then pursuing a life of celibacy if only to avoid ever having to do that again. I'll throw down, don't get me wrong, but perhaps something that is more traditional in regards to timelines. Maybe let it be more special (specialer?) than getting a pizza or winning a soccer game. Jesus, what is happening to me? Also, if I see someone on Halloween dressed up as me at my annual STD exam, I'm going to get superpissed. Actually, I don't get superpissed. I will be unnerved.

So, there you go. Besides that, everything has been awesome. I can't believe I'm posting this. Whatevs. I made the bed. I'll sleep in it. I'll even wash the sheets of the bed I made.

Update: Clean Slate achieved. 5:56 GMT.