Okay, a couple posts lost since I last posted. They're saved somewhere on my work computer in my super secret folder that I only use when I've been drinking in airport bars for hours on end.

In the meantime, I'll leave you with two thoughts:

1) I was in Milwaukee last week for business. So was a TASH conference. For those of you not familar with them, its a conference for people who desire "mainstreaming" mentally, physically and otherwise handicapped people. This sounds like a good idea until you're drunk in a bar looking for good time and can't tell who actually lives in Milwaukee and who is just a fat retard.

2) I'll be in Chi-town two weeks from now. I sincerely hope that someone and her hot boyfriend are able to catch me for a couple cocktails and dinner.
- 11/18/2005 11:04:00 PM /

Lately I’ve been spending a fair amount of time perfecting the art of managing expectations. For example this week I’m traveling to Las Vegas for work and my significant other is rightfully concerned about my impending large-scale misbehavior.

Now most guys would make promises to not drink too much, steer clear of establishments of ill repute, and leave the ATM card at home to appease said female companion, but lets be realistic here folks: we’re talking about Vegas. After drinking enough to make David Crosby mention getting some help, they’ll head to the black jack table to blow half the mortgage payment and then squander the other half getting lap dances from peelers that may or may not be female, attractive, or uninfected. Busted.

But being a bit wiser, I’ve managed to condition expectations so that upon my return after the aforementioned debauchery takes place the emotion will be relief, not anger or disappointment.

The idea here is to project the worst case scenario and here’s how: Two to three weeks before the trip, start talking about how you’d like to double your life savings. Be sure to mention that since you’re a smart person that knows the lottery is really just a tax on people who can’t do math, Vegas is the only honest way to make that kind of return.

The next step is to tell the significant other that so-and-so has never been with a woman and you’re taking him to the bunny ranch and then under your breath mention that since you’re out there you might as well find out whether the wait in line is worth it. Be sure to point out that if you’re going to dabble in that kind of stuff, you shouldn’t do it Hugh Grant style so you’ll be getting the two or three best you can get your mitts on even if it means you’ll have to dig that shallow, unmarked desert grave twice as deep.

The final step is very important as to prevent the previously mentioned fiascos from actually happening: Start drinking and drink a lot. Having your “A” game after the 15th round of cocktails will allow you to safely navigate to and from venues close to the strip opposed to those out of the way places where somehow your money and pants vanish.
- 11/05/2005 08:24:00 AM /

Can you guess what I’m thinking after reading the article about the Arkansas couple thats on their 16th kid? Here are some hints:

1. The father’s name is Jim Bob.

2. The Duggars said they were particularly delighted since this was the first time they had a girl in 8 years.

3. Do the math: Michelle had her first child at age 21, four years after the couple married.

4. They have 16 kids, all of which have a name that starts with J, including Janna, Jessa, Jinger, and Joy-Anna.

5. Jim Bob and Michelle want more children.

6. They live in Arkansas.

If you guessed “redneck morons everywhere are breeding at an alarming rate” or “Maybe there are more ethnic groups that should be preventing from breeding and/or naming children than I previously thought,” you’re right!
- 11/01/2005 09:53:00 PM /

Its been a while since I've posted 110% blotto like that last one. Whew. Anyway - Sorry About that/You're welcome and Happy Halloween.
- 10/31/2005 07:55:00 PM /

Perhaps I say:

Despite the fact there's presidential cabinent indictments, I'm fucking drunk. I forgot the point I was going to make or the spelllling of such vernacular, but it had something to do with the fact I've drank too much tonight and I was fighting with the "girlfriend" (quotes on purpose) and I'll wake up and realize I am an asshole on the internet, not to mention in person.

Butt fuck you, (no typo there) I'm drunk and listening to Rilo Kiley and I'm drunk in case I haven't mentioned that lately.

And I'm now officially a myspace whore having posted my whore-like photo and all.

www.myamyspacewhore.com (that may or may not be a real link)

You'd say:

GO TO BED DRUNK ASS.
- 10/28/2005 08:42:00 PM /

This headline is funny in that Pithy sort of way if you’re ever spent much time around downtown LA:
Power Restored To Chinatown, Downtown Still Dark
- 10/27/2005 09:52:00 PM /

What are the odds of this: Police find a meth lab in Fontana.

The real question is how could a town that is home to NASCAR, countless mullets (known as “Norco neck warmers” in neighboring communities), store coolers full of 24oz single serve malt liquor, cars on cinder blocks in front yards, tons of low-brow gentlemen’s clubs, and the nickname “Fontucky” thrive without a healthy supply of methamphetamines?
- 10/26/2005 08:20:00 PM /