Moments When DR Acted Like a Little Girl

Something happened to me last night.  Something frightening.  Unfortunately, more frightening than the incident was my response to it.

After taking some time to reflect on the incident I realized that my response was not an isolated case.  I have reacted the same way twice before.

These tales are not flattering but they are 100% true.  I bring them to you today, not for my own personal bravado, but for your experience and entertainment.

Ladies and gentlemen…I hesitantly present…Moments When DR Acted Like a Little Girl.

 

The Only Screaming Boy in Denver

January 2004.  Denver, Colorado.

En route from Breckenridge to Iowa City, myself and several others stop at Casa Bonita restaurant on Colfax Avenue.  From the moment I walked through the pink doors I knew this would be a memorable experience.

Our table was on the second floor with a great view of the cliff diving show.  Oh yes…they have indoor cliff divers.  Unfortunately, we did not get to the see the juggling monkey as he does not work the lunch shows.  Seriously.

After the all-you-can-eat meal of Mexican goodness and a few plates of sopapillas, my mate Remmi and I were ready to explore.  The first stop was Black Bart’s Cave and the, allegedly, haunted tunnel. 

Now for those of you who don’t know Remmi very well, I’ll try to explain him the best I can.  To say Remmi is easygoing and somewhat timid is like saying Lunchbox kind of, sort of likes to eat, sometimes, maybe.  Remmi has the energy of a 90-year old man and the physique to match.  For some reason or other, Remmi ranks around number 8 on my all-time most-entertaining list.

So Remmi and I head off for Black Bart’s Cave.  We immediately realize that we are about three times older than the target demographic for this attraction.  This doesn’t bother us, we have built up Casa Bonita in our minds to be some sort of Shangri-La…every part of it must be amazing.

We entered the cave.  It took a few seconds for our eyes to adjust to the darkness.  It was cool, damp, and quite eerie.  As we walked through the tunnel we stayed close together and moved at a tortoise-like pace.  We were strolling through, looking at the various crap and fake artifacts on the walls when, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, we hear a sound…a scream.  A taunting scream that reached us just before we felt a burst of air hit our faces.  I lost it.  I panicked, screamed like a little girl, grabbed Remmi and got the fuck out of there.

The two of us then ran out of the cave, laughed, tried to collect ourselves, and headed back to the table.  Not sure if we ever told anyone that short story, but it was definitely a moment when DR acted like a little girl.

 

Me and Mexico Down by the Spine Yard

October 2007.  Reno, Nevada.

It was a dry and windy autumn day in the high desert.  I was still working for Danhard and sharing a cubicle with America’s favorite Brazilian, Mexico.  We had just started working on a new project and our superiors instructed us to go check out the job site.  Now, the two of us are still absolutely clueless on what we were supposed to find out there…but we know what we did find.

So Mexico and I drove North on U.S. 395 until we slowly lost all signs of civilization…we were there.  Getting to the property was difficult and frustrating.  The roads we were supposed to find weren’t there and the roads we found were not supposed to be there…kickass.  We were fairly carefree as we traversed the land by vehicle.  We were killing time and getting paid for it; we were happy. 

After driving along one of the dirt trails I noticed something on the ground, to the left of the car, that caused me to lose it.  I screamed, locked the doors, and rolled up the windows immediately.  Mexico, sensing something was wrong by my violent mood swing, asked what it was.  I simply pointed out the driver’s window to an object on the ground and said, “Spine.”

The next few minutes in the car were uneasy and argumentative.  Mexico wanted to get out and inspect the skeleton while all I wanted was to get the fuck out of there.  We compromised…she got out to inspect/photograph* while I remained in the car with the doors locked.

Mexico got back in the car, got the Long and Lat coordinates of the spine, and we headed off.  The next hour was spent arguing if we should contact the authorities, the property owner, or, at least, our supervisor.  My logic on the matter was, “Oh yeah Mexico…the cops are going to believe that two Mexicans who were trespassing out in the desert just happened to find a spine.  Get real.  I’m not going to jail for this one.”

Instead of contacting anyone of authority, we sent the picture to Kevin in Danhard’s Denver office.  Kevin then sent it to a friend of his who was a doctor and the verdict came back that it was not human…probably some sort of dog.  Great…I panicked and screamed like a girl because of dog bones.  A fantastic moment when DR acted like a little girl.

* From that moment on I always carry a 6-foot measuring rod in my car so that I may photograph the spines I come across with an appropriate scale.

 

The Sound of Flatulance

Februay 2009 (last night).  South Lake Tahoe, California.

After enjoying a few left-handed cigarettes, I headed to the garage for a righty.  It was a calm and mild night.  I opened the garage door but did not turn on the garage lights as I typically do.  I was feeling pretty good and wanted to experience the evening street life by the dim yellow of the front porch light.

About midway through my smoke I felt something from within.  A rumble.  I knew what it was and went with it.  The sound of flatulence cut through the calm of the night air.  Just then, I realized something…I was not alone.

I looked across the street and noticed a set of eyes coming from the darkness.  As it approached I realized what I was looking at…a coyote.  Apparently it had not noticed me, or cared to notice me, until it heard the sound of my attack growl.  It took a moment before absolute panic set in.  I threw down my cigarette, ran to the house, and hit the garage door button on the way in.

After a few minutes of heavy breathing and sweating inside the house I decided to head back into the garage.  Out of fear that the beast had followed me into the garage and was trapped, I grabbed the largest kitchen knife I could find.  I descended the two garage steps and looked around.  Luckily, the coyote didn’t want my blood enough to follow me to the garage.  It was safely outside.

Out of all my options at the time – blow dart guns, lighters, propane tanks, and various tools – I chose to run out…of fear.  A picturesque moment when DR acted like a little girl.

 

S&G; S

“The Only Living Boy in New York”

“Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard”

“The Sound of Silence”

 

Random Thought

Sometimes I watch the show Family Matters on Nick at Nite and get angry at the 12 year-old version of myself for watching such a terrible show.

 

Sorry Folks

I will not be posting again until Monday.  Long weekend planned up here.  Bachelor party (cue “Louie Louie”).

Borrowing a page out of Ukraine’s weekend drinking book, I’ve stocked plenty of Gatorades in strategic locations throughout the house.  I’ll be able to access a Gatorade from almost any location without drawing any attention to myself.  I will be like a Gatorade ninja…from the future.

Sitting in my car...listening to "Hungry Eyes"

Hey folks.  I’ve been slacking lately.  I’ve posted…but my heart wasn’t really into it.  I’ve been a little sore and have sat out the last few days.  Relaxing.  Feeling better.  Regrouping.  Rededicating.  Enjoy.

 

Later MDR

A lot of you have noticed that I often refer to a man named MDR in many of my stories and discussions.  MDR is a grade school art teacher, a drunk, and a non-passive hippie. 

I’m pretty sure MDR doesn’t read this blog so I have no problem writing this.  We all know he’s going to go first.  Somehow, someway, MDR will die an untimely death.

A few months ago MDR and I had a little talk.  We discussed the inevitable and he informed me that he wanted to go out in class.  This is about the same time that MDR started carrying a card in his wallet that states “If found, contact Dan R. at 847-###-####”.  Not sure if that means if the wallet is found, if MDR is found…whatever.

I’m not sure of the legal ramifications of this card in his wallet but I’ve decided to go along with it.  Since I’ll be the first person that the authorities will contact, MDR wants me to change the story a little bit…you know…spice it up…no one wants to read “choked on his own vomit” in the Sunday paper.

A draft obituary…

Matthew Daniel Rxxxx

October 17, 1979 – Xxxxx ##, ####

Matthew Rxxxx has been declared deceased by authorities and search officials after being lost at sea in the north Pacific for over twelve weeks.  Matt was last seen on Xxxxx ##, #### aboard Princess Cruises’ ship the Diamond Princess.  The ship was en route to the port city of Skagway, Alaska after disembarking from Juneau.  Matt was last seen alone at one of the ship’s bars after dinner and is believed to have disappeared sometime between the hours of 8:00 p.m. and 10:30 a.m.  Another guest aboard the ship reported Matt missing after he had missed a scheduled breakfast and was not found in his room.  Captain Giuseppe Romano notified the U.S. Coast Guard of the disappearance at 6:34 p.m. after crews had searched the Diamond Princess for approximately eight hours.

The search of the coastal waters off Alaska’s Pacific shore was led by the U.S. Coast Guard with assistance from the U.S. Navy and sheriffs of several local coastal communities.  The total search area scoured was nearly 60,000 square miles.  The area ranged for 200 miles off the shore for a distance three times the distance of Juneau to Skagway.  After several weeks the search switched to volunteer work with help from Matthew’s parents: Vicki and Dan Rxxxx.

Funeral services will be on Friday, Xxxxx ##, #### at Marino Funeral Home in Rock Island, Illinois.  Overseeing the services will be the Reverend Daniel Rxxxxxxxx (recently acquitted of Ponzi scheme charges).  Promised by Mr. Rxxxxxxxx, “This is going to be bigger than the Seoul ’88.”

Friends and family have been asked to forgo sending floral arrangements.  Instead, donations on behalf of Matthew can be made to the United Negro College Fund.

 

Can’t Explain

One night, about three months ago, I got pretty fucked up.  When I awoke the next morning I had the following line in the notepad of my phone:

“I feel like monster trucks are having sex in my mind”

What’s the significance?  I don’t know!

 

Research and Development

Disregard the references at the bottom of the map.  I did all the actual research.

 

Monorail

Brockton

Ogdenville

North Haverbrook

 

Poor Choices by DR

Is that a belly button ring in my ear?

 

My favorite songs to ski to…

“I’m Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You” by Black Kids

“Sultans of Swing” by Dire Straits

 “Oxford Comma” by Vampire Weekend...a kickass video

“Under Pressure” by David Bowie and Queen

 “You Never Even Called Me By My Name” by David Allan Coe

“The Power of Love” by Huey Lewis & The News

 “House of the Rising Sun” by The Animals

Back in Black

The mustache comb is back.  You know what that means...exactly.  I look like a Keith Hernandez-Jose Valentin hybrid.  

$20 bill photographed for scale.

There can be only one.

"Hold Me Up" by Live

Live from the Staples parking lot

Hey, hey!  It’s Monday and we’re all in misery.  Well, not everyone.  I woke up at 10:30 this morning and moved directly to about three hours of coffee/Seinfeld time.

Jerry:  Why would a junior high want to screw with my head?

Kramer:  Why does Radio Shack ask for your phone number when you buy batteries?

 

Coors Light and Jailbait

Went bowling on Saturday night.  The Saturday night crowd at Tahoe Bowl is interesting…at best.  Lots of kiddies.  Of course, pursuant to Megan’s Law, I maintained 50 yards separation.

Rolled three games.  170 (with a 7,8,9 Turkey), 79, and 134.  Not exactly sure but I’m pretty sure the 170 is a personal record.

 

KK

Last week’s Us Weekly included a little story called “25 Random Things About Kim Kardashian”.  An excerpt:

18.  I’m obsessed with my blog and I update it a few times a day.

Who the fuck does she think she is?  A few times a day?  Fuck you Kim.  You think you’re so much better than me?

 

Zack and Miri

To those who haven’t seen Zack and Miri Make a Porno, I highly recommend it.  Saw it last night…literally laughed like a schoolgirl.  Revenge of the Shit.  Wow.  Perfect delivery.

 

Communication Breakdown

My phone stopped working Saturday night.  Not sure what kind of radiation they’re pumping out at Tahoe Bowl but three working phones went in and only one came out.  Fucked up shit.

So yesterday morning I departed to Carson City for the Verizon store.  Thirty minute drive down and thirty minute wait only to find out I had to head to a store in Reno to get a replacement phone.  Another thirty minute drive and thirty minute wait.  It then took the woman another thirty minutes to swap out phone. 

Decided to take the scenic route back to South Lake…Mt. Rose Highway to Route 28 around the east of the lake.  Aside from the white-out conditions crossing the Mt. Rose summit, a pretty nice drive.  Cruising down 28 on a Sunday afternoon along with Stevie Wonder and Elton John…good times.

The entire ordeal took me four and a half hours.  Good thing I don’t have anything to do.

 

Days of Our Lives

Well folks…I’ve been at this for a while now…here are the exact numbers.

Number of days since I’ve…

…worn a watch – 52

…been to a strip club – 53

…been to a strip club alone – 53

…worn a mustache – 56

…worked – 73

…owned a bed – 79

…eaten at Arby’s – 113

…worn a banana costume – 115

 

A few songs I really, really like…

“Lovers in Japan / Reign of Love” by Coldplay

“End of the Line” by The Traveling Wilburys

“Touch of Grey” by Grateful Dead

“Ruby Tuesday” by The Rolling Stones

“Cracklin’ Rosie” by Neil Diamond

Blood alone moves the wheels of history!

I feel like shit.  This beer isn't helping at all.  Some of this blog was written on my phone when I was drunk last night.  I'll try to keep it pretty stupid...minimal brain power required.  Sorry if it sucks.

By the by...JR vomited about 4 times from about 8-11:30 this morning.  I sent him off, to drive home, with a handshake and a garbage bag.  If he dies...I'll go to the wake if it is local...but I'm not flying 2,000 miles for the funeral.

Thursday's Quote of the Night

I was at the bar discussing how all 50 states now have a special quarter.  The gentleman I was sitting next to, JR, asked if Puerto Rico would get one next, to which I erupted, "Mark my words, if they give Puerto Rico a quarter, I will defect to Cuba!"  Said that one a little too loud.  Moderate stares.

Cici's

The dude with the mustache looks like MDR.

Thursday Wrap-Up

Hit up a place I've never been to...McP's Irish Pub.  Pretty big crowd for a Thursday.  Cover band.

Not sure the name of the band...but they were pretty rockin'.  Played nothing but songs from 1993-1998...Weezer, Better than Ezra, Soul Asylum, Local H, Filter, Pearl Jam, STP, Bush, Sublime, Smashing Pumpkins.

Written in my phone's notepad...time unknown:

"Waitress has become SOOOOOH attractive."

On a Mission

Currently Eating

Blackened catfish sandwich.  Sweet potato fries.  Remember folks...only eat the fish special on the FIRST day of the special.

What?

Seriously...what is this?

The Upper Crust

Today's Conversation with Lunchbox

An excerpt...

DR:  Can you get a corset to pull off the "Sneaky Pete"?

LB:  You know...I could eat a lot when I was skinnier.

DR:  So.

LB:  So...we could get me in some sort of boot camp to lose the weight and then the plan will work.

DR:  Dude...what kind of boot camp would that be?  It would cost a million dollars.

LB:  Well...aren't we going to make millions?

DR:  I was shooting for maybe around $40-60 grand.

LB:  Oh.

Potassium

Robots are Everywhere

Make sure you're covered with Old Glory.

Potassium...Part Deux

Danny

Remember Danny the one-eyed Mexican who worked in the kitchen of The Parthenon in Iowa City.  Dr. Mike...what did he used to call you..."Mike and the Mechanics"?

Don't forget to cross your t's and...dot your lower case j's.

Just remembered the party in The Summer of Dan where one-eyed Danny slept on the front porch.  Top 8 Mexican...ever.

Friday Beats

"Two of Hearts" by Stacey Q

"I Ran" by A Flock of Seagulls

"Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood

"Don't You Want Me" by The Human League

"These Dreams" by Heart

The Taste of Money

There is a show on the Travel Channel called Man vs. Food.  While watching this show recently I thought to myself, “Holy shit…this dude is Lunchbox!”  The host, Adam Richman, looks like Lunchbox, dresses like Lunchbox, and, most noticeably, eats like Lunchbox.

The basic gist of the show is the guy travels to different cities and goes to a few famous restaurants to eat and talk about the food.  We’re not talking soup and salad…its usually huge sandwiches or piles of hot wings or 30” pizzas.  The last segment of every show has the guy eating something to get his picture on the wall or a plaque or a t-shirt or something…eating competitions.

The guy is pretty good at it but I know someone who is better…Lunchbox.  Have you seen him eat?  The man can put down some serious volumes.  Any food…doesn’t matter…he can do it.  For fuck’s sake…he’s got his picture on the wall of a restaurant already.

You’re probably thinking, “Wait a minute.  Dan, don’t you have your picture on the wall of a restaurant?”  Yes…but not for eating…just because I was wearing a kickass banana costume to a BBQ joint in New Orleans.

So what do we do?  Do we try to get Lunchbox his own TV show to showcase his skills of devouring?  No…too easy.  We hustle.

Now I don’t know too much about hustling people…so I turn to proverbial bible of hustling…Marty Scorsese’s hit movie…The Color of Money.

I invest.  And do you know what I invest in?  Excellence.

 

The Hustle

The ultimate competitive food eating showcase is Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest.  The event takes places every 4^th of July in Coney Island.  The best eaters from around the world compete.  The best in the world except one…Lunchbox.

Lunchbox could enter this, win, and clean-up in prize money.  But there’s more money out there to be had betting on Lunchbox eating.  Hustling.

We need to hit the road.  I cover all expenses and front the money (via unemployment) for all the bets…therefore, I get 60%.  60%.  I’ll also need to pick up a white Cadillac Fleetwood.  Preferably with a red leather interior.

Just picture Lunchbox walking around a long dinner table in a black t-shirt that says “BRETT”, eating hundreds of jalapeño poppers while Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” is playing…this is going to be incredible.

 

Two Brothers and a Stranger

We’ll need a third for this one.  Preferably a lady.  Any volunteers?

Here’s how it goes.  Lunchbox rolls into a restaurant and starts to eat…aggressively.  He challenges random patrons to eat-offs and is winning.  Meanwhile, I’m in the restaurant, maybe having a drink, maybe making it look like I’ve had too many drinks.  I’m all over the lady and she’s all over me.  I start mouthing off to Lunchbox and he gets pissed at me.  We exchange words…serious words.

I say that Lunchbox is a pussy and that the guy he is eating against can beat him.  I then bet $500 the other guy will win.  Does Lunchbox bet against me?  No.  Someone else in the crowd does.  Boom…easy money.

 

The Dump

He can’t win them all.  If he does, no one will be and we won’t make any money.  Lunchbox has to learn how to dump.  Dump like a pro.  Vomit.

We’ve got to get him into a few eating competitions, for cash, where he loses.  Hopefully he can dump against the best…Joey Chestnut, Eater X, or Takeru Kobayashi.  Why?  To set up the big payout at Nathan’s…that’s why.

 

The Sneaky Pete

This one might be a little tough and a little uncomfortable.  Lunchbox will have to enter the restaurant wearing a corset.  Some sort of NASA-designed super corset.  We need him to be so cinched up that he looks like he weighs a buck sixty.

Lunchbox then starts to inquire about the food challenge and acts innocent.  After we draw our mark and set our price, Lunchbox goes in back to de-corset and expand.  Boom…easy money.

 

Wednesday Tunes…ala The Color of Money

“One More Night” by Phil Collins

“It’s in the Way That You Use It” by Eric Clapton

“Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon

“The Girl from Ipanema” by Stan Getz and Astrude Gilberto

 

Not in the movie, but irresistible…

“Lawyers, Guns, and Money” by Warren Zevon

 

I’m back…back in the South Lake groove

If you guys need to get a hold of me today…sorry…I’ll be skiing.  What son!!!

 

Letters to God

Apology

Sorry I Rick-Rolled you guys.  Suckers.

Long Weekend Wrap-Up and More

To those who were angry about having to work on President’s Day, I have some advice…just get laid off.  It’s like getting President’s Day off, everyday.

 

Friday

The usual one pint of Budweiser at the Blue Angel Cafe turned into three…they had Tracy Chapman playing…I’m a sucker for “Fast Car”.  Feeling a pretty good buzz I proceeded to go home and polished off a few Coors Lights while sitting at the kitchen table, watching the school bus that was stuck in the snow across the street, blocking the T-intersection.

In a day-drunk moment I decided to shovel the driveway, ruining the very buzz I had worked so hard for.  That mistake was followed by a shower, a nap, and some garage drinking.

                               

Addendum to States I’ve Been Drunk In

I’ve also been drunk in the District of Columbia.  Not sure if that counts though…so I left it off the list.

Lunchbox…that layover in Ixtapa was AMAZING.  I really miss White Thunder.

 

Saturday

Woke up late and sat around the house until heading to Fire and Ice at around 4 o’clock.  Photographed P. Tom in a homo-erotic pose with an ice sculpture.

Pre-dinner drinks involved a fuzzy navel and a blue, fruit-filled cocktail the size of my head.  Some of you have seen this before and know what I’m talking about.  For those who haven’t, it’s reminiscent of the cocktail Garth Algar had in Wayne’s World.

Dinner was followed by a round of drinks in the garage before heading to the Tudor English Pub for the evening.  The bourbon flowed like wine at The Tudor and things started to escalate quickly as myself and my three mates ponied-up at the bar.

The Tudor is under new management.  No more pool table, a few more beers on tap, and a much better liquor selection.  We met the new management…the owner’s brother, Paul…a total creep.

Paul slapped the man sitting to my left, twice, in the face.  Paul later placed his arm around waist of the man to my right (pictured above), in a rather sexual manner.  I don’t think I’ll be going back to the Tudor again.

Post-Tudor activities included me drinking in the garage, by myself, for an hour and a half while listening to music.  I was getting pretty bored out there alone so I got out the old phone and started searching for a conversation.  You’ll never guess who was awake at 4:30 in the morning…MDR…ready to rock/converse.  Not sure if the man sleeps or not…just another MDR mystery.

Our conversation was based around two U2 albums (Wide Awake in America, Zooropa), day drinking, illegal drugs, and, of course, pandas.

 

Vacation T-Shirts

In about a month I will be going on a vacation to Whistler, Canada.  I know what you’re all thinking…well-overdue.  I need a break from the day-to-day grind of sleeping in, drinking, and not caring about anything.

During this trip I will give you, my readers, a chance to sponsor me…via t-shirts.  Original t-shirts.

You create them and get them to me and I’ll wear one each day of the week-long trip, take a picture of me wearing it, and post it on the blog.

Rules:

-          All t-shirts must be cotton…no fishnets, silk, etc.

-          All t-shirts must be properly sized…men’s XL.

-          T-shirts may not include a definitive statement about me.  For example, shirts with slogans such as “I am really a woman” or “I am a sexual predator” or “I have Herpes Simplex II” will not be allowed.

-          For my own personal safety, one shirt must have the slogan “If found, return to bar” printed on it.  I plan on being a total mess that week.

-          No t-shirt may be neon colored (Bryan)…I have sensitive corneas.

 

Sunday

Holy fucking hangover!  Woke up even later than Saturday.  Felt miserable.

After two attempts to eat at breakfast restaurants, we ended up at The Brewery.  You know what that means…breakfast beers.  Lunch was followed by watching as much of the Daytona 500 as I could handle…about 60 laps.  After that the movie marathon started…The Godfather Part 2 on AMC, Taken at the theater, Max Payne on DVD, The Rocker on DVD.  The first two were good, the later, not so much.

There was some sort of car accident down the street in the evening and the road was closed down.  There was one cop, at the intersection, on flare detail.  That’s all.  Just pop-off new flares, replace the old, and keep them evenly spaced.  Tax dollars at work.

 

Automatic Faucets

For some reason, the automatic faucets in public restrooms never seem to work for me.  Not sure exactly why.  Could it be that I don’t have a soul?  Is that why they don’t work?  I bet that’s it.

 

Monday

Back to the grind.  Laundry.  Lots of couch time.  Busy, busy, busy.

 

High School Reunion

Yesterday I was watching a re-run episode of Two and a Half Men.  I had to double-take at the credits, check IMDB, and then it all came together…the girl who grew up one block away, drove me to school every day my sophomore year of high school, and couldn’t pull into a parking spot for the life of her played one of Charlie Sheen’s skanks.  This is great…it feels good to see others succeed…after all, I have this blog…why shouldn’t they get something.

 

Mo Cuishle

Watched Million Dollar Baby for the first time on AMC last night.  Yes…I love AMC.  I thought it was pretty good, a little long, a little slow.  I think I still prefer Hundred Dollar Baby.

 

Ladies and gentlemen…Weezer

“El Scorcho”

“In the Garage”

“Photograph”

”Across the Sea”

“Susanne”

“Only In Dreams”

Happy Valentine’s Day

Well folks, its February 13^th…one day before Valentine’s Day.  I guess I’m not like the rest of America in my appreciation of Valentine’s Day.  Here is my crude attempt to celebrate this made-up holiday.

 

The Night the Chia Pet Died

Let’s take a ride in the way-back machine to February 14, 2001.  It was a cold and blustery Wednesday in Iowa City, Iowa.  Many of the residents of 702 North Dubuque Street were dressing up in their Sunday best to go out to dinner with their love interests but there were a few who had other plans altogether.  As you have probably guessed, I was one of the few.

It all started after dinner.  I made a quick run with MDR to Dirty John’s to pick up the essentials…a box of Franzia, a bottle of Southern Comfort, and some cheap vodka (for Dr. Mike).  Once we had the beverages locked down it was time for the entertainment.  Luckily, The Choz and Kevin were already out on the town so we camped out in their room.

The crew was assembled.  It was a pretty typical group… MDR, Dr. Mike, and myself…although we were joined intermittently by many passersby for cameos.  As I sat down at The Choz’s computer, equipped with a copy of the then-free Napster program, I started to compile the musical playlist for the evening.  Songs of love, love lost, love despised, and so on.  From “Love Stinks” to “Love Hurts” to “Love Bites” to “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” to "Can't Smile without You"…we had a little bit of everything.

Well, we may have started out at a 3, but we soon charged up to about an 8 or 9.  Within a few hours we were all thoroughly sauced…and singing…as best we could.  We were almost done with the box of wine when we saw it…the Chia Pet.  I’m not sure about the rest of the crew, but I fucking hated that thing.  I hated how it looked, I hated how you poured the water in its back, I hated everything about it.  It needed to die.

Within minutes I had made my move.  I took a glass of cheap, boxed wine and poured it in the back of the mighty beast.  Now there was only one thing left to do – well, technically two – wait and continue drinking.

The hours soon passed and so did our equilibriums.  It was after 2 in the morning when The Choz walked in the door.  A few glances around the room in his sedated state and he knew something was awry.  The Choz didn’t care about the three drunk men sitting in his room listening to sad and angry love songs…he only cared about his stupid ceramic plant.  The Chia Pet was wilting badly, as was The Choz’s soul.  He lied on the floor next to the creature and tried to nurse it back to health with some water and love.  The attempts were futile.  The Choz soon realized this and decided to put the creature out of its misery.  He took the last of the wine and poured it over the green demon like a helicopter dumping water on a forest fire.  It was dead.

That night was a memorable night for many reasons…I got drunk, sang a few songs, and killed something that someone else loved.  Happy Valentine’s Day Johnny.

 

Shout Outs

Belated happy birthdays...Big Head, Dr. Mike

Welcome home...Katie Nod...good to have you back in the States

Too Much Time on My Hands

Yesterday I made the list...I've been drunk in 20 different states.  Today I made a spreadsheet of who has gotten drunk with me in the most places.  Congrats to Piotr and BTA.  You are the winners...so far.  If one of you wants to take the lead...I've never been to Hawaii.

Click on table below.

There are places (and song lists) I remember…

“Do You Feel Like We Do” by Peter Frampton

“In My Life” by The Beatles

“Can’t Make a Sound” by Elliott Smith

“For No One” by The Beatles

“Lover, You Should've Come Over” by Jeff Buckley

“Hyperballad” by Bjork

“Obscured” by Smashing Pumpkins

“The Beast and Dragon, Adored” by Spoon

“Love and Communication” by Cat Power

“One of These Days” by Doves

I don’t believe in Facebook, I just believe in me.

It seems like every person I talk to nowadays can’t stop talking about Facebook.  “Are you on Facebook?”, “Why aren’t you on Facebook?”, “Facebook”, “Facebook”, “Facebook”…AHHH!!!...I can’t take it anymore!

You all think Facebook is so damn great?  OK.  Fine then.  I’ll show you.  I’ll show you exactly why I’m not on Facebook.  I’ll show you how Facebook can go bad.  This is going to get ugly.

Sorry Andy.

                         

My Friend Andy is Gay and Doesn’t Know It

It was an unseasonably warm March day in 1981 when Esther decided s she’d better get to the hospital soon.  She was pregnant with her third child and was well aware of the routine by now.  Her husband Robert grabbed their other children, Jennifer 5 and Eric 10, and headed out the door.  They made it to the Chicagoland hospital just in time to see Andrew Robert open his eyes to the world for the first time.  Robert held his new baby in his arms and as he gently rocked little Andy he knew something was wrong…he knew Andy was gay.

The son of a man of German ancestry and a tiny Chinese woman, Andy had an interesting look…Mexican.   Andy had a fairly normal childhood.  He excelled in academics, and enjoyed athletics, movies, music, and video games.  He was very well-behaved, due to his Lutheran upbringing and schooling, and never caused much trouble. 

Andy’s parents never completely embraced and loved their youngest son.  They were often cold towards him both emotionally and fiscally.  Andy often blamed this tension as nothing more than his parents being cheap.  He was wrong.

One story that shows this is the Christmas in which Andy wanted one gift more than anything else in the world…a Super Nintendo.  Andy assumed his thrifty parents weren’t going to buy it for him.  Then Christmas morning came.  Young Andrew Robert ran down the stairs of his parents Chicago suburb home and into the living room.  Sitting beneath the tree was a large box.  Andy tore through the wrapping paper and, low and behold, there it was…Super Nintendo.

Andy was elated.  His dreams seemed to come true.  The one thing he wanted more than anything was in his hands.  Then, almost out of nowhere, Esther told him that if he wanted to keep the gift, he would have to pay his parents $150, citing that they spend a maximum of $50 per child, per year.  Andy was crushed.  He didn’t understand why his parents were doing this.  Andy cursed them and stormed off leaving Robert and Esther in a very awkward situation.  They really wanted to get Andy a great gift, an expensive gift, but they couldn’t out of fear…fear it would make him more gay.

His parents had tried to raise him like a heterosexual, but there were many setbacks.  One day Robert brought home a puppy.  A little, adorable West Highland Terior.  Andy, the youngest child, received the duty of naming this dog.  You can imagine the pain it caused his parents when he blurted out, “Mommy…she’s beautiful…let’s name her Princess!”  Andy’s parents, in denial, went along with the plan.  The dog was named Princess.

Andy lived a pretty sheltered life until he moved on to junior high school.  Jane Addams Junior High school opened up a world of opportunity for Andy.  There were so many new people entering his life he couldn’t keep track…his head was spinning.  Over a thousand girls and boys of his age all crammed into the brick façade building.  Boys and girls growing, changing, and forming new relationships with each other.  Andy felt overwhelmed by most of this new world…especially one aspect…gym class.

Junior high gym class was unlike anything Andy had ever seen before.  There were roughly one hundred boys, together, in tight confines, taking off their clothes.  Andy was never quite sure how much he should look at the other boys.  Every day in the locker room he would look around and think, “I feel strange.  What is this?”  One day after school Andy confronted his older brother, Eric, about his feelings.  Eric had just graduated college and was planning on moving near his parents to watch his little brother grow up.  After the conversation with Andy that day, Eric changed his mind.  He packed up his car and drove west to California.  He couldn’t handle the pain and shame of what he knew about Andy.  His brother was gay and didn’t even know it.

Andy went through more changes and started to act out.  Most boys show their emotions to girls they like by picking on them or making fun of them.  Andy didn’t do this.  He knew he should feel that way about girls, but he didn’t.  He figured he was a late bloomer and that it would happen sometime.  Instead, Andy acted this way, subcontiously, to other boys.  One example of this was in seventh grade math class when Andy stabbed the boy sitting in front of him, Aaron, in the back with a pencil.

The pencil stabbing incident was not an isolated case.  Andy began to rebel more and more.  He wasn’t sure why it all happened, but it did.  Andy became more and more daring in his antics as an attempt to impress his male counterparts.  For instance, there is the time that Andy lit the K-Mart loading docks on fire.  Most boys want to impress their friends to show their worthiness and declare themselves as a leader.  Although Andy thought that is why he was doing all this, he was wrong.  Secretly, deep down inside, he wanted something else.  He wanted to mouth-kiss the other boys.

Andy continued to grow up and soon was entering high school.  Hoffman Estates High School was even more overwhelming than junior high was.  More girls, more boys, and showers in the locker room.  Andy began to feel more and more uneasy.  One cold December day he told his father, Robert, about this.  Robert and his wife, Esther, had just started to accept his son’s sexual preference.  In fact, they had purchased Andy a beautiful dress and makeup for the fast-approaching Christmas.  Hearing Andy talk about the highlight of his day, showering and changing after swimming in gym class changed everything for Robert.  In his mind he thought he could finally accept Andy for the way he was…he was wrong.  Robert ran out the next day and returned the feminine Christmas gifts he had purchased and bought him something else…something to toughen his son up…a wrench set.  That was it.  Robert and Esther decided that their son was to never to gay.  Never!

Day by day Andy’s parents became more and more alarmed with their son and his homosexual actions.  One day his mother, Esther, came home to find Andy in his bedroom, hanging an oversized Goodfellas movie poster above his bed.  She panicked.  Esther couldn’t help thinking, “Why Lord?  Why does my son want to wake up to the faces of men?”  She snapped.  Esther began yelling at Andy, “What is that?  A poster?  How much did it cost?  Five dollars?  It’s a poster…they should have just given it to you.  You’re stupid!”

Andy decided then and there that he would never become like his parents…cheap.  Little did he know he would never become like his parents in another way…heterosexual.

His parents grew more and more concerned with Andy’s actions.  First, Andy joined the gymnastics team.  Next, he became a cheerleader…a male cheerleader.  The distance between them and their son had grown.  The baby they once held so lovingly in their arms had started listening to techno music and speaking German.  Robert knew why Andy was doing this…he knew of Europe’s “anything goes” policy.  One thing Robert didn’t know was whether Andy was really aware of why he was changing.

Andy had several girlfriends throughout his high school years, but could never quite “seal the deal”.  He became increasingly frustrated by this and sought comfort and support from his male friends…they did not comply.  His friends felt helpless.  They knew he was gay…why didn’t he?  Andy’s friends would discuss, without Andy being present, his sexuality.  They thought he just needed a change of scenery.  College…yes, college would surely change him.

Andy wanted to go to college but was burdened by the task of paying for it.  He asked his parents for help and they desperately just wanted to say, “Pay for it yourself, faggot.”  They didn’t.  Instead they told him he had to pay for it by himself, however possible.  Andy then looked towards the military, claiming to others that he would use them in return for tuition money.  No one believed him.  His friends and family knew he just wanted to be around more and more men.  Andy’s fate changed suddenly when he received a scholarship to a major university, Iowa State.

Andrew Robert soon graduated high school and moved on to college.  Iowa State University would open new doors for him.  He almost immediately joined a fraternity and tried to fit it.  That didn’t work.  Then he went back to his old habit…male cheerleading.

Andy joined the squad and found a subconscious comradery with the other men…most of them being openly gay.  Andy often thought, “It’s OK to have gay friends.  I’m not gay.”  Boy was he wrong.

The school years seemed to drag on forever, the summers went too fast.  Andy finally got the chance to follow his dreams one summer…he went to Germany for the summer, alone.  Things started changing.

Andy’s friends knew exactly what was going on.  They hoped he would come back from these trips and finally have a grasp on himself and his sexuality.  They were wrong.

Andy returned from Germany at the end of one summer with stories and more stories about his new friend, Sven.  He showed everyone pictures of him and Sven holding hands walking down the street, the bed that they shared, and the “enema” (a large, black dildo) they used for…well…he just called it “cleaning”.

That was it.  His friends couldn’t take it anymore.  They finally asked him, “Are you gay?”  Andy erupted in anger and rage, screaming things like “What the fuck are you talking about?  I was in Europe!  That’s how things are done there!  Fuck you guys!”  He was still in denial.

Andy went on to finish his education at Iowa State.  During his time there he would travel back to Germany more and more.  No one was really sure what he was doing there.  He pretty much kept things to himself.

After graduation Andy took a job with Toyota in Ann Arbor, Michigan.  Working for Toyota was just what Andy needed.  He worked on a team mostly consisting men and would have opportunities to travel to the uber-erotic Japan. 

On one trip to Japan, Andy met a man named Akiro.  Akiro was gay and immediately took a shining to Andy, sensing he was gay.  Once again, Andy would return home and see his friends and show pictures of the two at erotic video arcades, karaoke bars filled with men, and the bed he shared with his new “friend”.  Once again, his friends questioned, “Are you gay?”  Once again, Andy erupted in anger and rage, screaming things like “What the fuck are you talking about?  I was in Japan!  There are men everywhere because the women aren’t allowed to go outside!  I shared a bed because they are grossly overpopulated!  Fuck you guys!”  Again, denial.

Andy continued the heterosexual farce.  He seemed to always balance the gay with the straight.  He joined a gymnastics gym, he had his girlfriend move in with him.  He bought a greatest hits CD of The New Radicals, he asked his girlfriend to marry him.  And so on.

So there you have it.  A tale of man who never really learned or accepted who he was.  A homosexual (not that there’s anything wrong with that) caught up in the life of a heterosexual.  Confusion.

Photo courtesy of Facebook.

 

The Moral

So there you have it folks.  You can’t trust Facebook.  You sign up for Facebook, make some friends, post some pictures and then shit like this happens.  David finds homosexual-esque photos of you, forwards them to me, and so on.

With that said, all of you, please, please never ask me again to join Facebook.  

Random Jams

“Freedom! 90” by George Michael

“Mastermind” by Deltron 3030

“Night Time is the Right Time” by Ray Charles

“All My Ex's Live in Texas” by George Strait...dedicated to Mike Batina

“Islands in the Stream” by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers

There must be some misunderstanding…

Aces High...with DR

I was sitting in my favorite leather chair this morning, listening to music, when Frank Sinatra popped up on iTunes.  I immediately closed all the blinds in the house as I paraded around singing along with the guido.  My microphone…the cable box remote control.  As I belted out “Come Fly with Me” I couldn’t help think to myself…wait a minute Dan…you need your own lounge act.  Yes!  Finally…it all makes sense.  I need to be in a satin tuxedo singing lounge songs and cracking lame jokes in the lounge at the Flamingo in Vegas.  Maybe I could have a show like Aces High with Sam Rothstein from Casino.

If you have never seen the movie Casino…hit the X in the upper right corner of your screen…you are no longer allowed to read this blog.

 

Eternal Damnation

There have been some recent comments and discussions about my place in the afterlife.  I feel I should address these, once and for all.

When you get to hell, make an immediate right and head all the way back to the end of the bar.  I’ll be sitting at the bar, next to MDR, by the restrooms.  MDR is going to save me a seat.  Once I get there, I’ll try to save as many seats as possible.  I can’t promise anything.

Also, be sure to wear a Hawaiian shirt and flip flops…I hear it gets pretty steamy in there.

 

Thomas Kincade Fucked Me…Again

Finished a 1,000 piece puzzle yesterday.  Well, technically, I finished 998 pieces of it.  Two were missing.  I moved all the furniture, looked everywhere for it, and wept loudly for a while…no use…still 2 pieces shy.

Here is a pic of 99.8% of Serenity Cove.

Sleep Update

Last night was the first night since January 1^st that I went to sleep sober.  No booze.  No soup.  No pain killers.  Seriously.

Slept terribly.  Couldn’t fall asleep.  Woke up far too many times.  Remembered my dreams.

This blog hasn’t yet become a dream forum…so I’ll leave it at that…but I’m sure you all can assume how fucked up my dreams can be.  Definitely going to pop some Vicodin before hitting the sack tonight.

 

Wednesday Rage…for the boys from E.P.

“Renegades of Funk”

“Wake Up”

“Testify”

“Killing in the Name”

“Take the Power Back”