Friday, February 28, 2014

These Are the Top 10 Awful People At the Bar. The People That You Meet Each Friday.

10. The Jukebox Saboteur.  Some jerk played In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida three consecutive times, but no one there will fess up to it.  More than likely he keyed that up and left to another bar just to stick us with 19 minutes of crappy drum and organ solos.

9. The Jaeger Bomber.  You have already told this guy that you don't want to do any shots because you have to go into work the next morning, but every time you turn around there is a tray of shots coming your way, and usually something disgusting like Wild Turkey.  You see, the Jaeger Bomber is not happy until we're all slobbering drunk and peeing on ourselves.  Like him.

8. The Barfly Loner.  He sits there alone every single night, knows all the staff members by name, and he is sipping his drinks and slowly killing himself.  And that's totally fine, so long as he doesn't talk to us.  It's when he chimes into everyone else's conversations that he becomes a problem.  We know, you have it all figured out and know the answers to all the world's problems.  But why haven't you found out how to avoid spending all your time and money perched at the end of this dark and dirty bar and dying a lonely death?

7. No Game and No Quit.   Sometimes the ladies just want to go out and have a few drinks, maybe dance a little, and yes, meeting some cute guys is a bonus.  However, you have got to know when your very presence has begun to ruin their night.  There are some guys out there who just don't know when to cut bait and move on.  Some men will tell you that all women are bitches, but the truth is they have to resort to being a monster bitch just to get guys like this to go away.

6. The Ping Pong Ball: This guy just doesn't seem happy with any bar you've gone to all night long.  The minute you walk in, he has immediately surveyed the scene and decided that there aren't enough women in there, the TV's aren't in high def, the bartenders aren't good looking enough men's room attendant has shitty mints, and the hardwood floors need to be refinished.  So he keeps convincing the group to bounce to another bar, which will be another one he will hate.  It seems the Ping Pong Ball is content spending more money and time on taxis than in bars.

5. The Stumbler.  He is blind drunk, falling over, making no sense, throwing up and falling asleep, but he won't leave!  If the bouncers won't do the right thing, sometimes someone in his group of friends needs to physically grab his pickled ass and show him to a cab, and usually tell the cab driver where he lives and maybe pay him (as it doesn't seem as if he is capable of doing anything on his own at this point).  Once everyone has had a good laugh and stored up enough stories to thoroughly embarrass him the next time you all get together, it will be well worth it to send this man home and absolve yourselves of babysitting duties.

4. The Inescapable Bad Conversation Guy: He has honed on you.  Yes, he has chosen you to share his wisdom of a particularly boring topic, be it to which route to take to shave 3 minutes off your commute, who to draft in fantasy football, or how to totally own the chumps in your condo association.  You have tried going to the bar to get a drink and going to take a pee, and you really didn't have to do either one - you just wanted to get away.  But he will keep finding you because he has you pegged as someone too nice to tell him to please put more beer in his mouth and make less boring words come out of it.

3. The Crop Duster.  The drinks are flowing, the music sounds good, everyone is looking beautiful, but suddenly there is the foul smell of rotten eggs blasting out of someones diseased intestines, and everyone is pulling their shirts over their noses, clearing out an entire section of the bar as fast as possible.  And the worst thing about the Crop Duster is that he never owns up to it, so you could be talking to someone and will have to convince him/her that it wasn't your own putrid ass that just unleashed hell.

2. Fishhooks in the Pockets/Alligator Arms.  You're out with all your friends, and every time it's this guy's turn to buy, he is sneaking outside for a smoke, to the men's room, or anywhere he and his wallet won't have to get involved.  Or better yet, he wants $12 craft beers all night, but when it's his turn, it's Bud in cans all around for his men.  What a swell guy!  

1. Dude Thinks It's Roadhouse.  Some guys out there don't feel their night is complete unless they have gotten into a fight, and it doesn't matter what it's about.  Sometimes it's insane jealousy, others it's about who's sports team is better, but It could be an argument about something as stupid as Mac VS PC, Star Trek VS Star Wars, or "Little Mermaid" or "Lion King."  What matters is that they are finally going to get to punch someone in the face and possibly get arrested, where they could very well land in the same cell as the guy they fought and kick back up that "Little Mermaid" debate and ring the bell for round two.  Listen, pal, you'll never be as cool as Dalton in "Roadhouse," you'll never rip out a throat, but you will either land in jail, get beat up by four bouncers, and have to explain your shiner at work on Monday.  So just relax and drink your beer, maybe try some yoga or something, and put away your dukes.


A) All this being said, I think I have been, I have been 7 out of 10 of these fellas, and sometimes more than one in a night.  But at least I'm conscious of which bar behaviors are bad, and that is half the battle.  How about you?

B) Honorable mention goes the Overzealous Drinking Game Guy.  He wants everyone to play his drinking games, but we just want to have good conversation.  Is it possible he has nothing worthwhile to say, and that's why he insists on these stupid games?  And what's more, I don't need rules to tell me when to pour gallons of booze down my gullet.  I do just fine without being forced, so shut up, right?  Should this guy crack the top 10, and if so, who should get bumped out?

C) Any other additions that you would like to submit?

Thursday, February 20, 2014

7 Quick Things About Lap Dances for Babies

Get a load of this.

Yup.  That appears to be a baby getting a lap dance.  

7 things I got to thinking about after seeing this . . . 

1. Is this something this woman does all the time, or was this an impromptu drunken activity?

2. Because the woman in the background seems less than thrilled about the whole thing, checking her phone and practically falling asleep, it seems as if maybe she has seen this song and dance before.  

3. The baby's wide eyed face is outstanding at the end of this clip.  It's funny because that's the exact look a man 20 years plus his senior gets in a similar situation.  

4. Is it morally wrong to give a baby a lap dance?  I suppose it's a little worse if this is his mother in the video.  Even if it isn't his mom, she would need permission from the boy's mother to twerk for him, right?  But should she give consent for such a thing?

5. There are two schools of thought about lap dances for babies.  1) A baby gaining that experience so young makes him a boss.  He's already ahead of the pimpin' game before he can even walk.  2) Getting a lap dance before you can walk is kind of like getting a BMW on your 16th birthday.  We want to give our children the best things in life, but shouldn't one earn such luxuries?

6. Now, okay, so you're going to shake your butt in a baby's face, but do you have to get your privates so close to the boy?  I mean the kid can practically smell it.  My reaction was like, "Oh, that is just wrong."  But then when she kneels down and her but is inside the baby device with the kid, that's when it gets over-the-top creepy.

7. I need the song from this clip on my iPod.  She shakes her butt exactly to the "oh! oh!" part, and the baby's eyes get wide right on cue for each "oh" as well.  Even if the morals and methods of passing time used by the people in this video are suspect and maybe criminal, the music they use to accompany their weird lifestyles is nothing short of awesome.  

What do you think, folks?  Leave me a comment if you are pro, anti, or undecided about baby lap dances.  

Monday, February 17, 2014

Is It Nice Out?

Doing laundry isn't so bad when you have access to weapons-of-mass-time-wasting like kindles, iPods, and smart phones.  With my laundry machines around the corner of my building in my complex of apartments, it's really not worth going all the way back up to my place through the snow, so I just hunker down there and get it all done at once.  And it's pretty enjoyable when I can listen to retro rock guys from Germany with big beards, text three or four friends, stalk 6 or seven others on Facebook, and read a book about a messed up Italian family in the Bronx on my Kindle.  All at once!  Plus the sound of the machines running (at least what I could hear over the amped up and distorted guitars) can be really relaxing.  

I was certainly feeling at ease sitting down there doing all those activities, but I was also a little cold, and oddly just in one area.  My penal area.  So acutely cold in fact that I had to look down to see why, and that's when I saw my dingus dangling out of the fly of my "Dark Side of the Moon" pajamas and flopped onto my lap.  I tucked that sucker in as quickly as I could, but would if someone came down there before I could do put it away?  My neighborhood is by a big University in Chicago, and let's say a young coed came down there to see that?  I could never explain that it must have just slipped out when I crossed my legs, which I'm guessing is what went down (or what came out).  No one would believe that defense.  

And what would be the nail in the coffin of my indecent exposure conviction and potential death sentence and/or loss of all wiener privileges was the that fact that I was wearing a Purple Mountain Unicorn shirt.  Let me explain.  We had a Zubaz party one night where there were like 50 people in awful Zubaz pants and jackets like the one seen below.  My good friend, Oates, found that when you search for Zubaz on, for whatever reason the Purple Mountain Unicorn shirt is on like the second page of the search.  Try It!  Oates decided this would be a good accent, or perhaps more his centerpiece.  Southie and I thought it would be hilarious if he walked into the place to find us two wearing the same awful shirt, and here we are with our faces blurred out to protect our identities (read dignities).  

If I ever could explain why I was lurking in the corner with my pilly-packers flapped over my jammies, after anyone got a good look at this shirt, there is no way in hell anyone would believe the donger out was a mere coincidence.  Only a real deranged pervert would wear this in public.  

Behold.  Three guys in bad shirts.  

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

I wanted to tell a story that a friend told me once and share it with you all because it's really funny, but first I had to check a few things:

A) Have I already told it?

No.  I ran a search of couple of key words, such as couch, and surprisingly I haven't put this one down yet.  

B) Does the friend and story teller have a name that I have assigned him on my blog that I should use?

No.  But this triggered me finding a bunch of other people I have given blog monikers, some of which have had inconsistent spellings, wording, or all together different names over the years.  So then I spent the better part of an hour going around making the names of these dudes (read drinking buddies) consistent.  I then created a word document that I can reference in the future to avoid any more mishaps.  Turns out that I have at least 16 people with blog names, and some of these folks I really need to reconnect with.  


On with the story . . .

This friend of mine told me a story about a time he got lucky one night and took a young lady from the bar back to his Lakeview apartment.  They started fooling around on the couch, and soon their clothes were mostly off.  They were in a position in which he was sitting on the couch facing into the living room, and she was riding him on top facing the wall.  Suddenly, my friend becomes aware that she is magically tickling his bean bag somehow, but why was her hand so soft?  And so wet?  He then looked back to find that his dog was lapping away at his balls.  He laughed, shooed him away, and was kind enough to tell his good buddies this heart warming/ball warming story.  I hope you enjoyed this tale as much as I did, but somehow I doubt that is even possible.

Friday, February 07, 2014

I have a bit of a situation here.

A friend sent me a text with a video attached of a woman's ass shaking to the beat of a rap song, moving each cheek to each beat.  Then the person turns around to reveal a young white kid who says "Oh, you're gay as hell!"

I responded with what I thought was "Looks like Bieber is having fun in jail."  Because the kid looked just like Justin Bieber.  Not my funniest joke, but whatever.

But what autocorrect sent was "Looks like BELIEVER is having fun in jail."

A number I didn't recognize called, but because I was expecting a call from the rental car place, I picked it up.

An angry Black man was on the other line.

Him: "You call me?"

Me: "Uh, no."

Him: "Well someone texted from this number."

Me: "Maybe I responded to a group text or something?"

Him: "Uh huh.  Yeah, right."

And he hung up.

Then I got two calls from another random number.  I didn't answer.

You see, this friend of mine texted that video to tons of people, and my response went back to all of them, and it seems that on some of their phones, my response came unconnected to the video text.  So these Black fellas are wondering who in the hell I'm talking about that is in prison.

I responded to JUST the sender and said "I mean Bieber" but it's already too late.

Damn you autocorrect and phones that don't group responses of texts together, or whatever.  And damn you Justin Bieber.  Why do YOU get a pet monkey and I just got angry Black guys all over Chicago that want to kill me.

Wednesday, February 05, 2014

The Microwave

I was talking with a coworker the other day, and he told me about a woman he knew overseas (which I assumed meant when he was in the military) called The Microwave.  She was really attractive, always ready to do the deed, but nobody dared touch her.  At least not more than once because she had a burning case of venereal disease - and it was hotter in there than a microwave.

However, there was one guy who got with her three times knowing his pee-pee would hurt and he would have to go to the clinic and get shots.

Well, you know how the saying goes, right?

Burn me once, shame on you.  

Burn my wiener twice, shame on me.  And my wiener.

But burn me three times, and . . . God dang it, my thing burns!

"And for God's sakes, don't shag The Microwave again!"