The R of R, part II

Ok, so Stoney's, the country bar was very entertaining. There were ALL kinds there. I mean, some dude with a MOhawk, one or two black folks and a bunch of wannabe rednecks. I felt right at home.

We started slinging back drinks and a $1 a piece, can you really blame me? Julie, the maid of honor who God bless her, looks like Ms. Munster + 300 lbs., told me that the owners of the bar were giving her and Jen a bull ride. Well, that did it. I was like, "Wait. There's a bull? I gotta ride it. Where is it? Wait. They don't like announce that people are gonna ride it do they? I gotta ride it.") After 3 vodka tonics and a few shots, I felt brave enough to dance... It was a hoot. I bit it once and then I rocked it as usual. Then it was time for el toro. Now, for some reason this has been something that I have been DYING to try for sometime. I'm not sure if it's because I think I'd be really good at it or if it's because it's a sure fire way to have everyone in the bar look at you... either way, it worked because I'm probably on youtube now. Anyway, I rode that mother like it was my job and the only reason that I had to jump off was because I broke a damn nail. It effin' hurt too. I worked that bull over. Golden Vag. Nuff said.

There were no lines for the bathroom at this bar either which really intrigued me. There was only one bathroom too. I wish we had that kinda of technology in Columbus. It would do wonders for Bar Louie.

The Relatives of Relatives

God bless family. You can't pick them and they didn't pick you but you're stuck together for the long haul. Yesterday was Christmas day and my Mom and Dad and I drove down to, that's right, Gallapolooza on Christmas eve night... actually let me go back about one week.

My Mom and I hitched a ride on a jet plane last Thursday and headed out to Las Vegas for my cousin Jen's wedding. The flight was calm and relaxing and we had no problem meeting my uncle in the airport. The 3 of us went to breakfast once we landed because I was, as usual, starving. We went to IHOP and talked about my Grandma (Nan), their crazy mother. In this particular context, I am not loosely using the word "crazy". She's certifiable. Seriously. Everyone is out of the will every other week.

Once we made it back to the house, aka wedding headquarters, it was sheer and total chaos. My Aunt put my mom and I to work, son. Next thing I know, I'm freaking making Spinach and Artichoke dip and delicately arranging pecan tarts for the party that's starting in like 3 hours. Right. It was sweet.

Ok, so then the party started. It was basically a chance for the families of the bride and groom to hang out and get to know each other. Uh, I made a cameo, was harassed by my Aunt Mary's brother Bobby who was trying to fix me up with his son who was in Califorina. Whipping out photos and the whole 9 yards... If I wanted a solider/ cop* I'm pretty sure I could find one here in Columbus. No thanks.
(* Disclamer: Nothing wrong with either profession, I'm going strictly on stereotypes here. My blog, I do what I want.) My mom and I went upstairs to take a nap before the stripper was scheduled to come. Oh yes, the stripper... wait for it. Ok, so I slept for like an hour and a half and it was blissful. Jen came to wake me up so I could get ready because once the stripper was over, we were going out. To a country bar. Where they line dance. I was pumped and or scared pumped for this but what the hell? You only go around once.

The stripper was, uh, interesting. He had a weird little dance numba that he did and it was a little too N*Sync for me but the others seemed to enjoy it... I was ready to hit up Scores or the O.G. or even the White Rhino but no such luck. He offered us his "XXX Fire and Ice Show" for the hot price of $100 bucks. YEAH RIGHT DUDE! You're a freak. He was dismissed after he rendered his services and then the drama started...

The groom's mother, will call her Sandy, got w-w-w-wasted at the party and was slurring her words and herself all over the kitchen. She cornered Jen and told her not to tell Payton (the groom) that Jeanne (brace yourselves, this gets a little retarded... The bestman's wife who just turned 21 and had a baby. Good life choices!) saw the stripper. Her husband, Beaner, didn't want her to so therefore she shouldn't have done it. Whoops! She's in all the pics, living it up with a big dong in her face. Jen was like "Sike. I'm not starting off my marriage by lying to my husband, your son". Then my Aunt jumped in... she said knock it off and let's get the hell outta here and get drunk. So we did.

Part 2 coming soon.

My list of "going out rules"

Ok, so remember when I wrote about maturing and growing as a person and all the crap? Well, I did good for a week and this past weekend I was ok but pulled two stunts that I shouldn't have and at the rate I'm going, well, I gots lots of bad ju-ju out there!

So, that leads me to my "Rules for Going out" meaning that if I want to go out I have to follow these. I also have a "Weekend list" and it is the opposite of this list (i.e. it's the reason I get into trouble on the weekends)... let's see if they negate themselves.

1) No sharking people. You (and by you, I mean me)are not allow to even think about doing this anymore. Bad, bad decision.
2) You can only hate drink if you have a DD and are with close friends. No hate drinking with strangers.
3) No beating up Brynn. This includes: pushing, shoving, pulling hair/clothing etc., Indian rug-burns, throwing objects, screaming mean things that you're just saying because Dick Navis is there... I think that about covers it.
4) No biting.
5) No barfing. (In my defense I've only refunded 3 times at a bar. Once in College, once in Chi-town and a few weeks ago Tailgating.)
6) No smoking. It ruins me.
7) If I'm drinking Patron, I gotta pace myself. It's the only way I can do it these days.
8) No knee-ing people in the junk.
9) No wandering off so people have to/ are able to watch me on surveillance cameras.

I'm sure there's more rules but this is a good start so we'll take it from here. I'll let you know how it goes this weekend. New year, new leaf, new life... A change gon come, nephew.

Karma

Tell me why two people tried to fight me this week. Someone, please. Seriously.

Scenario 1: I was going to the Spoon concert with two of my girlfriends, Brynn and Tara. We had gone to dinner and arrived at the concert EARLY and started spotting faux celebs which is always fun and we were moving around trying to find the best local which happened to be on the side of the stairs, next to the railing. I jumped up on the railing and that was my perch for the next 3 hours. It really was a prime spot because not only could I sit but we got to see all the people that bit it on the steps. Priceless. So, Spoon was getting ready to come on when this lady and her boyfriend rushed over to the railing and she basically sat on my feet. (Now keep in mind that before the show they were standing in the middle of the stairs and completely blocking everyone's way. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I realize that Brynn and Tara were on the stairs as well but they were on the side and they're skinny so they weren't taking up any room.) Ok, I had NOT, I repeat NOT been drinking. I'm broke, I'm not proud of that but it's the truth so I wasn't drinking. Now, ok, so she sat on my feet and I politely tapped her on the shoulder and said "Excuse me. Um, excuse me." She ignored me. Well, we all know that I HATE being ignore so then it was game on! I nudged her, slightly softer than a shove but no where near a push, and she FREAKED out and said "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!" To which I responded "exCUSE ME?!?! What the fuck is YOUR problem? You are sitting on my feet and I just wanted to move them. That's it you bitch." Then she tried to push me off the railing and said "You're not supposed to be up there" and I was like "Whoa. I will fucking spit on you if you don't fucking turn around and stop talking." Then I looked at her boyfriend, who looked terrified, and asked if he would switch spots with her and the random girl next to me (who, btw, kept eye-fucking me all night) goes, "Wait, I don't want her in front of me either!" Then the crazy lady who is called Tiffany (fab. name you stupid whore.) turned around AGAIN and said "Listen, I'm not even that mad..." and I cut her off and said "No. NO. We are NOT friends. I have nothing to say to you and don't give a shit what you have to say to me, so shut up and turn the fuck around." The adrenaline was surging through my body and it was all I could do to not kick her in her nappy head with my booted foot but I had on big hoops on and realized that was the 1st thing she would go for and since I was stone sober, it woulda hurt. Bad. So I decided not to do anything. Meanwhile Brynn had gone to get security. It was pretty funny. So Spoon comes out and the crazy psycho hose beast and her wimpy bf went to the front and we all cheered and clapped and whistled as they walked away. And Spoon was sweet. We all rocked out. The end.

Scenario 2: I was grocery shopping the next night at my local Giant Eagle and was searching, scouring even, for the last thing on my list which happened to be barley. I went to ask the "apple dude" (we'll call him Fuji) if he might know where the barley was and he said "Hmmm. Let me go ask." So I followed him to the front of the store where he asked a co-worker and then this short angry little man (we'll call him Guido) said "Well, it's a pasta so it'd be with the pasta." And I said "Actually it's not a pasta, I believe it's a grain." Well, Guido did NOT like that answer and said "I think I know what barley is. I cook with it everyDAY." I said "Congratulations!" as I walked away with Fuj in search of the elusive grain. NOT pasta. Then Guido shouts back "Come down to the restaurant and I'll cook you some barley!" Really? Really, Guido? Shut up. No one was talking to you in the first place. I wanted to say "Oh, so do you make your own beer with your pasta barley and hops? You stupid dum dum." What kind of Chef doesn't know what barley is? GEEZ! Obviously in this story I was sober as well and although I have never been drunk grocery shopping, it's not out of the realm of possibilities but it didn't happen in this story.

Moral: Karma has my number. He came a-knocking and made his point. I get it. I'm trying to change my evil ways and no longer am I the devil in disguise. At least I don't think I am...

Thoughts

Ok, so here I sit on the brink of 27-ness with lots of thoughts flying thru my head. I had lots of time to think over the holiday weekend so I took advantage of the opportunity and came up with this...

- I need to do some growing up. This is not the first time I have had this realization but it is the first time that it has hit me this hard. I mean, I have made leaps and bounds from where I was a year ago but still... there's SO much room left for improvement and really, isn't there always? I think one can always improve themself because if not, we'd all be Buddha or David Beckham or Angelina.
- I wish I could date myself. I realize that a lot of my current behavior (or all of it) is brought on by 1 of 2 things: alcohol and boys SO if I could date myself that would eliminate half of the problem. Think about it... I think I'm good looking, funny, smart, etc. It's perfect. I like all the same things that I like, I don't want kids and neither does myself. I never don't call. I can satisfy myself. It's a shame I can't make it happen.
- I am a mean person. Really mean. I can't say that I have any regrets... well, in hindsight, maybe one but that's it and no I won't be sharing that with you. No one and I mean NO ONE knows about it and it's SO much better than way. Ok, now actually, yes I am mean but I think I've bought into the "idea" that I'm mean. I wasn't always this way but in my old age I've discovered that I've become a raging bitch. It's got to stop. I'm outta control aaaaand I digress...
- Cat vomit is disgusting.
- Drunk driving is never good and it WILL catch up with you.
- Gas and food should be free.
- I can't believe how much cash flow I've spent over the past four days and it's amazing how Target can make a bad day a great day. Seriously, it's like my porn or something. (Actually, websites like PerezHilton or Pinkisthenewblog are women's version of porn... whole nother blog.)
Let's hope that with the end of the year rapidly approaching, changes will be made. Skin will be toughened, hearts will heal, forgiveness will be easily given and things will become slightly more clear for me.

palabras...

hours too slow and minutes too fast
always apologizing for the same mistakes
it happens all too often and i can't make you see that it has nothing to do with you
i falter daily without realizing that it's my routine
falling from grace without a memory or a thought
uncomplicated from the blow and coming undone
but full of promise and rising to the occasion that is ever chasing me
a quiet numbness breathes life into my hurt and solidifies my aching
you elude my advances and cheat me out of my bad habits
they all lead me back to where i started
and it's no good but it's everything i know
seeking comfort in the familiar even though it feeds the beautiful mess that i've made
tangled up in the in between and the inside out
never letting on that it's you i miss

Something to think about...

Would you rather have a three-way with Scarlett Johansson and Samuel Alito OR Jenna Jameson and WWE's Batista?

The Golden Vagina, part III

About 6 months ago the Golden Vagina took a trip to Las Vegas, that's right, Sin City itself. I know what you're thinking and you're probably right. The G.V. was at a cabana party at the Rock Hard which was incredible. She was enjoying the company and the free vodka when WHAM! she sensed a very good looking man scoping her out. Normally, the G.V. isn't shy, modest or demure but this man was so attractive that it made her nervous. He came over to talk to her and then she and her friends were whisked off by a friend who was in charge of the free vodka. Priorities folks, priorities. Later on that evening, the hot man, (we'll call him Paul Revere) found the G.V. and they hit it off. (Interpret that how you will, please). Paul and the G.V. still talk and they are on good terms. He actually is coming to visit her in about 2 weeks.

Present day: The G.V. just recently got out of her first relationship since The Ray. (We shall call this one Weed Pony.) The Weed Pony was and still is a good shit but unfortunately, he wants baby ponies but can't go to work 5 days in a row for 2 weeks, hangs out at strip clubs and can't get past his love for the "high". (I don't see baby ponies in his future anytime soon. Unless some lucky 19 year old from the Hungry Intellect gets knocked up by the Weed Pony.) The G.V. misses the Weed Pony, in spite of his faults but she also isn't sure if the Weed Pony is to be trusted. (The G.V. went to college with many Weed Ponies and became great friends with them, but now that the G.V. is more mature, she realizes that Weed Ponies... well, it's all relative.)

She was re-released into the wild last Friday... nothing to update you on up to this point so just chill til the next episode. Peace fools.

The Return of the G.V.

Years and years past and the Golden Vagina (and the girl who was attached to her) had all but given up hope but then the Ka-nerd rode in on his jeep wrangler and with much patience and persistence, won the heart and the loins of the G.V. They had many memorable, uh, memories together but then one day the Ka-nerd went to law school and neglected the G.V. A well known fact about the Golden Vagina is that she hates, detests even, being ignored and frankly, my dears, she won't put up with it. She cut her losses and set off to find another knight with a bigger, ahem, jousting stick.

They met one wintry night at the Cat's Eye, which normally the G.V. would never be caught dead in, but she needed to feel pretty and was always, without a doubt, the prettiest girl in said bar. Right then. So the G.V. was out and looking to get effed up. She was taking Jell-O shots (made with moonshine) from her own boobs, taking shots of Jack and generally just trying to wreck her body as fast as humanly possible. She looked over and much to her dismay someone on ESPN had the audacity to talk about the Yankees and ruin the buzz (yeah, you're right. We're WAY past buzzed here) she had been working so hard to achieve and then... there he was. He walked over and said something to the effect of "So, you like baseball, huh?" He was beautiful. He had dark hair and eyes and a mouth and ears and was wearing clothes. He was perfect, so perfect in fact that the G.V. had no idea he was trying to talk to her and asked "huhmhp. Yooou tallkin' ta meh?" And he said "Yes, or trying to anyway." Well, that did it. The G.V. had found Mr.Right Now and was ready to go. She grabbed his hand, said "peace out bitches" to her friends and headed to the Pub. No idea what happened there... beer, shots, making out. Your guess is as good as hers. Fast forward to later that night.... Toxic was on the radio back at the abode of one of G.V. friends and the since the Golden Vagina likes a good striptease, she went to work. Then The Ray went to work. He did work, son. And then, the sun came up. They walked down the street together, her to go home and freshen up and go to a wedding shower and him to go pass out at his friends house (he was in from out of town). They exchanged numbers and said "Adieu". A week or so later, The Ray called. That's right, he called. And the G.V. and the Ray were together for over a year. They were madly in love. It was good. Then it ended. No details need to be rehashed. It didn't end amicably. Right, let's just say that.

In her heartbreak, the G.V. felt that she needed to relocate, so off to Espana she went. It was an amazing year. One of her favorites, to be honest. And what happens in Spain, stays in Spain. It's similar to Vegas that way, but it has less laws. (And more nekked people. So it's like Galapalooza too!) She came back after her tour of "duty" and remained single for about 7 months. She also received her very first vibrator which helped her to stay single. (If you don't have one, get one! The silver bullet is a "yes" man in a no world, if you know what I mean.) SIDE NOTE: Now, men can sense how powerful the G.V. is and it slowly starts to consume them and eventually drive them mad. When the G.V. denies you, don't fight it, embrace it. You are not the chosen one. It's nothing that can be changed. It's just not meant to be. It happens to a lot of guys.

Upon her return to the United States, she realized how much she missed American men. (Ladies, let me tell you, they are a rare breed. For better or worse.) She forgot that men don't have mullets or wear pointy dress shoes all the time or pants tighter than hers. She got tangled up with a wrestler and and later with Physical Therapist who couldn't contain himself around the G.V. She had to stop returning his calls and cut him out all together. As for the wrestler, they are friends. Not in the Biblical sense either.

The Golden Vagina

Gather around kiddies while I tell you the tale of the Golden Vagina. Have you ever heard of this fabled creature? Is it an urban myth, a legend? Oh no, I assure you, it is a very real thing and can be very dangerous if it's powers fall into the wrong, um, hands.

There once was a young girl who grew up in a ville, in the suburbs. She was a smart, funny, well liked girl and innocent. She was what you might call a late bloomer and she was kissed for the first time well after the majority of the girls her age. She was 16. She was kissed by the boy of her dreams (who turned out to be a evil man who was banished to the east coast years after their break-up) and it was perfect. After that, well, things got a little crazy. She threw her virginity at him (no, she didn't lose it like her car keys.) and he caught it. Nothing but net. Things continued on smoothly until the summer before freshmen year of College. The lovely couple called it quits seeing as how he was going to be in Virginia for the next four years and she would be in Athens, Ohio (aka Disney World for alcoholics. Interestingly enough, this girl didn't know she was an alcoholic till she went to school there.) So, from there the golden vagina only got stronger and the reason for this, well, there's really only one reason: masturbation. Lots and lots of masturbation. None of it mutual, I might add.

Then the Chapa happened. And boy did he happen. The Chapa is an enigma really. He's good looking, but not Zoolander good looking, and he is smooth operator. I mean, smooth. He could charm the chastity belt off Mother Theresa. They had a relationship of sorts and then they decided, eh, we've done all the damage we can do to each other. Then the Chapa robbed the Golden Vagina of her sex drive. It was awful. He took that sex drive, put it in a jar and kept it on a shelf, in his bedroom. He had it for a long time. A loooooooooong time.

Intro: Golden Vagina 101

For those of you who are not familiar with the Golden Vagina, let me introduce her. I have only met one my entire life, as they are a dying breed. (Similar to the Unicorn, but different.)

She is mean, soft, can be hateful, can be sweet. She knows what she wants and usually gets it. She is smart and witty and cutting, but not in the literal sense. She is a force to be reckoned with and she has been known to turn one night stands into years long relationships. (Many times the mind, soul, etc. of the human attached to the G.V. is a victim herself. Esp. when intoxicated. The girl is powerless.)

Consider yourselves warned.

Top 10

Top 10 Reasons Moo should give for breaking up:
10) You just can’t give me what I’m looking for
9) Let’s be honest you and I both know you aren’t good enough for me
8) All this was, was a summer fling. I should have done this weeks ago.
7) You are too immature for me
6) You have a stupid car
5) You know how you said you don’t know me that well… well I’m in the Reserves and I’m being shipped to Iran tomorrow
4) Awwww, you thought we were really dating? That’s cute.
3) Its not me, its you.
2) You’re only a 4 and I can only seriously date a minimum of a 7
1) I finally got to the store and picked up some batteries, so I don’t really need you anymore.

The Ridiculousness of Radio

Since my car is in the shop, I have been driving my parents' car around the past couple days. In my car I have the Harman-Kardon Drive+Play so I can listen to my Ipod while I drive. As a side note, this is an amazing device and I recommend it to anyone with an ipod. Okay, my parents' car does not have an ipod adapter and I have not bought or made a cd in over 3 years, so I have been forced to listen to the radio, not satellite radio but good old fashion radio. After 2 days of this unbearable torture, I have one question: WHY WOULD ANYONE CHOOSE TO LISTEN TO THIS GOD FORESAKEN TECHNOLOGY THAT SHOULD BE EXTINCT BY NOW??!!



Although many of my complaints may be a result of my location, here they are anyway:

1. Commercials, commercials, commercials!! Not only do I find radio commecials incredibly annoying. Furthermore, has anyone really ever been listening to the radio, heard a product commecial, and thought to themself, "Holy shit, I have to go out and buy that!" Seriously, what company in their right mind would think they should participate in radio advertising? With the inception of the ipod and satellite radio the audience is much smaller and less diverse. I suggest that the only products that should be advertised on radio are products geared towards the elderly and soon-to-be-deceased. This also brings up my issue with "commercial-free"satellite radio. Bullshit. It is not commercial-free when every 3 songs you advertise for satellite radio. Fix it!
2. I hate it when you can scan through 10 stations and there is a commercial playing on every station. This happens all the time and it pisses me off.
3. This one may be a result of the stupid midwest city I live in, but if I hear another Nickelback or Hinder song playing on more than one station at a time, I'm going to drive my car into oncoming traffic. It really makes no sense to me why a radio station would choose to play this 13 year old girly rock on their station. Radio stations function because of advertising revenue and, the last time I checked, 13 year old girls do not possess a lot of buying power. Therefore, they are not a target audience of your advertisers so why would you choose to play this crap?...
4. ... and the answer is... because most, if not all, radio DJs have the mental capacity and mindset of a 13 year old girl who just found big brother's stash of meth. The worst perpetrators of this fact, morning radio show hosts. Maybe some people like peppiness when they wake up and maybe it helps them to wake up a little faster, but I'm going to guess that this overacted peppiness and energy makes a majority of the human race want to jerk the steering wheel right into a giant tree. It's unnecessary, your jokes aren't funny, your 'Jackass' type stunts aren't funny unless I can see you writhing in physical pain, your guests want to be sitting there talking to your dumb ass as much as you want to accept the fact that you are one step away from being mentally retarded, and I don't have a football game tonight so quit trying to act like a F#$%ing cheerleader at a pep rally!! You are 30 years old, grow up, put on a suit, and get a big-boy job!
5. My ipod does not cut out with static and I don't have to go find a new ipod with music I like because I drive through a tunnel.

These are just some of my complaints towards the ancient technology known as radio. I'm sure I have plenty more to write about but I have to go pick up my car from the shop because I choose to not be a victim of radio anymore! Seriously people, go out, spend a couple hundred on an ipod and a car adapter. I promise you, you will not be disappointed. You get to listen to what you want when you want, there are no commercials, there are no speed-addicted jackasses trying to hype you up in the morning, and you never have to search for another station.

The Good Life: the 26th Birthday Story

To sum up my birthday, three things were confirmed:

1. My life is good, I am lucky, I am blessed... whatever you want to call it or label it, good things happen to bad people.


2. I surround myself with people who make my life entertaining, otherwise it would be quite boring.


3. I need a new key chain.

I guess the celebration started a little early because what started out as happy hour on Friday turned into a night of random drunkenness. Me, Annie Oakley, Pirate Jenny, and Principal McGee started the night at Frog, Bear with half-priced Stellas. After about 3 rounds of these, I moved to the staple (Patron on the rocks). We move the party to the Patio, where the real randomness begins. K-Rock is bartending and I continue with Patron (I really need to come up with a name for this). We go inside and Annie gets directed to a table of guys, who turn out to be guys I went to Miami with and/or played hockey with. We drink with them. Then people from work show up and I drink with them. Then Uni-1 shows up with some of her old softball friends. We drink at the Patio for a while, drinking shots, beers, etc. Finally, Annie and McGee want to go home. I'm in the zone, so I don't want to go home yet. Pirate Jenny and I end up going with Uni-1 to the Polo Club. By this point I'm a lot drunker than I allow myself to believe. All I remember from the car ride there was that I felt ill. We get to the Polo Club and I immediately vomit upon exiting the car. At the Polo Club, I drank water so I could drive home. Friday night ends. A fun night that was pseudo-reminiscent of my 21st birthday in which I ran into everyone and their mother and got retarded-drunk.

Saturday starts with multiple phone calls between 10 and 11 wishing me happy birthday but I'm way to hungover to move or try to answer my phone so I let them all go to voicemail. Thank you to whoever called. Pirate Jenny and I wake up around 12 but continue to wallow in hangover for 2 more hours. Finally, we begin to move and make are way to Cincy. We get to Cincy around 4:30 even though we had planned to be at the casino by 4. Oh well, if you know me then you should know I'm probably going to be late. We get to the casino around 6:30 and I immediately go down $150 in blackjack so the night isn't looking to good, but let's be honest I'm Bryan and this is my life. I find my brother at the roulette table so I sit down next to him and get $50 in chips. Again I go down and I'm down to my last $15 and I put it all on red. Boom, it hits and then I go on a streak. B-Rad, Jose, and K-Fed finally make it to the casino, we say hi, and they go to the craps table. At about 10 everyone is up and ready to cash out, keep in mind this is about 3 hours after we had planned on leaving but you can't mess with a good streak. We leave for the hotel, check in real fast, drop our stuff off, and leave. Somewhere between the casino and the hotel, Jose gets a phone call and is put into a mood. He doesn't make it out. The rest of us go to Hoffbrahaus, where we consume large steins of beer and glasses of liquor. We close down the bar. Back at the hotel, K-Fed informs B-Rad that Moo's friend was "talking shit" so he goes into drunk fight mode. They yell and push but K-Fed and I convince B-Rad to go to White Castle with us because for some reason a Crave case sounds amazing at 4am. For some reason it took 45 minutes to get 30 hamburgers but we get back to the hotel. Moo and her friend are leaving. B-Rad has calmed down by this point and tries to apologize but Moo's friend won't have it. Drama ends when they leave. Everyone passes out and I proceed to try and 'finish off' my birthday in the smallest shower known to man, doesn't happen.

Ok, so how did this mess all amount to 3 confirmations of my life? 1) Seriously, who wins that much at a casino, who can run into random friends where ever he goes, and who has as many good things happen to me and as few bad things as me? 2) Kind of going along with 1, my life is easy, it is rarely difficult or unbearable, but it is also pretty textbook. If it weren't for the ridiculous people I surround myself with, it would probably be pretty boring. 3) As Ben Harper wrote, "With so many people to love in my life, why do I worry about just one?" A million thanks to everyone that called or texted me birthday wishes. I really do appreciate them all. I'm so lucky to have each and everyone of you as a friend. To everyone that was there to help celebrate my birthday, I had a blast. Pirate Jenny, I have nothing but love for you. You are the main reason my birthday was what it was and I hope you know how much I appreciated it and how much it meant to me. I hope you know how much you mean to me!! You rock and I wish I wasn't retarded. With that said, with all the birthday wishes I received you would think I would completely content and happy but alas I was not because there was still one call that never came. I think it's time to finally let go, find a new key chain, and walk away....

Gallapalooza, part deux

The morning of August 11th (aka D-Day) I went to breakfast with Molly and Brent and Brent's Mom and her boyfriend. We went to Bob Evans. For two reasons really... 1) they serve a mean biscuit and gravy combo which I heart immensely and 2) there's no where else to eat. The breakfast conversation consists of many topics including but not limited to bacon dangles, the pumpkin festival, huge burritos surrounded by chili, and various others. Needless to say, I was the morning entertainment. (I was probably still a little, or a lot, drunk seeing as how I went to bed 4 hours earlier. I use to pull this stunt in my Spanish 465 class on Friday mornings. I was the star student those mornings.)
We came back to the Uptings house and vegged the heck out for a while. Sandy, who was hung-over Harriet, decided to volunteer Molly and I and herself to help decorate the tent at the French Art Colony where the wedding was to take place. Ugh. So the three of us stinky ladies braved the hot heat and hangovers to go and answer the call of duty. It sucked. We had to precisely measure out water to pour into globes on the tables. We peaced out and went back to the house where I ran into the Groom's older brother (Ken) and his wife (Kimber), both whom I adore. Kimber is pregnant with Ken's baby which while it is a great thing, was slightly sad for Molly and I because the three of us love to drink together but you know, gotta respect the kid. Ken told me that he and Gabe went to lunch and Ken expressed his feeling about the wedding. Again. It went something like this, "I'm only gonna say this one more time. I don't think you should marry her. She's not the right girl for you." Gabe "Well, what do you want me to do?! Everybody is already here and everything's already paid for!" That struck me as maybe not quite the response that he should have given... maybe something more along the lines of "I love her, Ken. She makes me want to be a better person. She makes me want to stop searching because I know that I've found the what that I was looking for." (Now, ok, I realize that men only say these things in say, Lifetime movies or hallmark cards. I'm writing this entry and that's what I'd want someone to say about me. Get over it.)
Fast forward to a few hours later. We ride over to the French Art Colony which is the setting for the wedding. It looks lovely. Honestly, it does. And then we turn the corner to where the ceremony is to take place... BAM! Right in the hot August sun, facing the sun I might add, are the chairs that we are to sit in during the vows, etc. Ugh. This does not a happy Moo make. I'm just glad I had on a strapless dress and I felt so bad for the guys in jackets and full blown tuxes. (One advantage of being a female, I suppose.) So, the wedding party comes out and everyone looks so classy and ballerific... esp. Molly, the grooms woman. They say "I do" and everyone is, uh, happy. Or at least everyone decided to forever keep the peace. We all decide that now is the appropriate time to start drinking. Now. Right now and not a moment later. Now, things start to get interesting... I call the wrong Mike on my cell phone. Whoops. My mom and Charlie (that's her call sign... she's a new member of the Upting clan but all the older people in Galapalooza have known each other since God was a boy) start to get tipsy. My father and I are talking to some of his old cronies which is great fun for me because they tell me the stories about my dad that he won't tell me. (Like, for example, how he was in the car with someone going around 2nd ave. when the driver passed out mid-turn because he was so wasted. Classic.)
And then dinner, blah blah blah... some of us are too drunk to eat so we just keep drinking waiting for the cake to be cut. By the time it's time to dance, whoa, we are all pretty tanked but none the less ready to break. it. down. My dad and I hit it and bust a few moves together but I have to keep adjusting the top of my dress and it's really starting to piss me off and worry my dad so he gives me his suit jacket and I put it on backwards, like a straight jacket. How appropriate, I know. Then a GREAT idea hits me like a bolt of lighting... Molly and I should do one of our patented dance routines for our ex-manager, Gabe. We decide the song should definitely be "Electric Youth" and request that the D.J. play it before the night is over. We wait. And eat cake. And make fun of the Abominable Snowwoman. And wait. And wait. All the time still consuming mass quantities of alcohol. Enough to kill a good size herd of cattle or supply a small country with for years. And years. Now, yes, I'm mad. The party is ending, Molly and I are ready and starting to freak out because we think Gabe is going to leave before he can see our performance. The d.j. announces that this is the last song of night and with that said, I march right up to the d.j. "booth" and proceed thank him for playing the one song that I wanted to hear and then, oh, what's that? You didn't play it? Well, I think it is my duty to notify him of the fact that he "fucking sucks." Game over. Moo 20 points, D.J. negative 7.
Everyone starts to leave and Molly and I can't find her boyfriend, or my parents but we do manage to find her parents. Who drove a pick-up. With crap in the back of it. Jackpot. We want to ride, with our beers, in the truck bed. Because it would be totally sweet, duh. Her dad is like, "yeah, ok girls! Climb in!" But Safety Sandy put the kibosh on that idea so the four of us ride back to the thrill upon the hill in the cab of the pick-up. (Coincidentally, this same pick-up I use to drive when I had just gotten my license. Molly and I used it to go rent "Boogie Nights". Another story for another time.) We get to the house and head directly to the pole barn. Didn't collect 200 dollars. We continued to drink (and now smoke sparkling wiggle cigarettes) and random Aunts and Uncles of Molly's start to show up. We all bitch about Gabe marrying the enemy and finally retire around 4 or something.

The End. Happily ever after. Or not. I heart Galapalooza.

Summer Movies

I understand that most of you are not as dorky as I am and probably have not been following the whole Blu-Ray vs. HD-DVD war that is going on, especially the events that have been going on this week involving Paramount Studios and Michael Bay. I'm not going to dive into that whole mess but all these things happened this week and it made me realize that this Summer has been filled with shit movies with good titles. What makes me mad is the hype around these movies due to their titles but in reality they are horrible movies.

First things first, Transformers. This is the real reason for this post. Quick aside: Paramount Studios who announced they would only support HD-DVD is the studio behind Transformers, Michael Bay directed it, he posted a comment about how the decision by Paramount pissed him off and he was not going to direct the second Transformers movie. Good because Michael Bay ruined this movie. As with Pearl Harbor, he took an amazing story/franchise and ruined it with a sappy love story and corporate bullshit. Transformers was a cartoon for kids, no love story necessary, especially between two 16 year olds. Although he didn't go too deep into it, it brought absolutely nothing to the plot line. Second, Megatron was a Walther PP7, not some weird alien plane that you couldn't even see because he went so fast. The toy Megatron was so realistic looking that kids got shot when they would go outside with him. Finally, Bay claimed that he was going to remain faithful to the cartoon but then turned all the vehicles into GMC cars. Bumblebee was a VW Bug, plain and simple. It was the key to his personality. Bay chose to make him a Chevy Camaro and all of the sudden I'm picturing Bumblebee as a overweight, middle-aged, bald, white man, in his stained wife-beater, drinking a Bud-heavy. Jazz was a Porsche 911RS, one of the sickest cars on the market at the time of the cartoon... and still one of the sickest today. Instead, Bay chooses to make him a lower-middle class, white teenage boy's wetdream by making him a "tricked out" Pontiac Solstice. Come on, a Porsche 911 or a Pontiac Solstice? One exudes class, speed, and a racing heritage and the other excudes thoughts of the 80's Pontiac Trans Am, the quintisential car of 80's white trash. I will hand it to Mr. Bay, he did make one hell of an action movie but by no means was it deserving of the Transformers namesake. I don't understand why so many people are gung-ho about the movie. Yes, it was a decent action film sans the love story but any true fan of Transformers should feel cheated by it. Me, I will stick to the 1986 animated movie with the 80's glam-rock soundtrack that included Weird Al Yankovic, Stan Bush, and many others.

Ok, secondly, Spiderman 3. What is with all the hoopla for this movie? Not only did they include way too many bad guys and not give enough time to each one of them (think Batman Forever), but they also made Venom (one of the best comic villians ever) into the Darth Maul of the year (make him bad ass only to show him for a little time and then kill him). Now, I understand that they tried to make it a family movie experience but honestly, the cheesiness level was taken to a level comparable to some of the soft-core porns I've seen on Skinamax. The part where Peter's personality is changing due to the symbiote... completely unnecessary. Also, at the end were Jameson takes the little girl's camera, why interupt the best action scene of the movie for a useless piece of unfunny comedic relief? And again, everyone is so excited for this movie to come to DVD, why? I saw it in theaters and wanted my money back.

The three best films of the summer, in my opinion, Harry Potter, Bourne Ultimatum, and Superbad. The Potter films just keep getting better moviewise. Sure they may not include every detail of the books but they do remain faithful to the overall storyline and purpose of the books. I also think the movies, with the advancements in special effects, are getting better with each one. It was a good adventure movie with a good plot. Bourne Ultimatum was just a two hour adrenaline rush. It was non-stop action and it made James Bond look like a huge puss-bag. Finally, Superbad, stupid, predictable but absolutely hilarious. I was a fan of Arrested Development and Grandma's Boy and to see those two in a movie together was entertaining. The humor is simple but well written and a change of pace from what has been coming out of late.

So there you have it. My take on the summer movies thus far. There were a couple other I saw (like Shrek 3) but none stood out enough to write about.

Bad Newz Kennels

Why is it that the Federal government is investigating all these people for this alleged dog fighting ring, but they are offering plea agreements to everyone so they can build their case against Michael Vick? There are multiple people involved with the whole thing yet they are trying to build their case against one man, who "coincidentally" happens to be the richest and most famous black man out of the group? I think that he is definitely guilty of dog fighting and should get in trouble for it, but I don't agree with how the Federal government has singled him out and are only going after him. Furthermore, all these plea agreements they're handing out to build a case against him... if you faced a long term jail sentence and a huge fine wouldn’t you blame it on someone else if you were offered immunity, especially because if you don't, you know they have enough evidence to convict you? Do I think Vick was involved, absolutely. Do I think he was the only person in charge of everything, absolutely not. If you’re going to convict people for the crime then convict all of them because I seriously doubt it Vick was the one person pulling all the strings. It was probably the group of them sitting around one day and coming up with the idea. Vick just happened to have the money to pay for things. So by going after Vick and only Vick, all the others who were there for the conception of the idea get off because they didn’t have the money to fund the operation. Had they had the money, I’m sure they would have bank-rolled the fights too. All I’m saying is that its unfair to only go after one person because he’s famous, when it was the whole group of them that are guilty.

Follow-Up to The Race Card

This was my post on the comment board:

This goes out to everyone calling Mr.Whitlock an "Uncle Tom". Apparently,
we should ridicule and chastise anyone that doesn't think, dress, act, or behave
like ourselves. Some of you have even gone as far as to suggest that the likes
of Whitlock, Clarence Thomas, Oprah, etc. should be "done away with" and exiled
from the African American community. I'm pretty sure if everyone had this
mindset, a majority of you making these comments wouldn't be allowed to. For
those of you too simple minded to understand my subtlety, slavery would still be
around today if humans weren't able to accept people for their differences.
Disagree with what Whitlock has to say, argue against him in a clear and
educated way, but to sit there and call him an "Uncle Tom" because he doesn't
agree with what you think is ignorant and demonstrates the reason why prejudice
is still alive today.

The Race Card

This article was on Fox Sports: http://msn.foxsports.com/cbk/story/7127682?forum_key=StoryComments&topic_key=7127682&page_no=25

It talks about how the race card is getting used way too often and abused. I completely agree. In the comments section for the article, there is a bunch of praise for what he says and then there are a couple comments scattered in that call the author (a black man) an uncle tom for voicing his opinion. Coincidentally, every single comment that calls him an Uncle Tom has at least 1 to 2 grammar, spelling, or typing errors. This comment was one in response to the Uncle Tom comments, and I don't think I could have said it any better.

There have been a few people on here calling Mr. Whitlock an "Uncle Tom".
This phrase needs to go. It's not only hackneyed but it stereotypes blacks
as having to be one kind of way. Furthermore, criticizing the actions of
people who are your same race does not make you a sellout. NOT criticizing
the damaging actions of people who are your same race simply BECAUSE they're
your same race - now that's being a sellout. If we feel something isn't right,
we should be allowed to voice that opinion without the probability of
discriminatory
retribution.

Brilliantly said. As a minority who has grown up in predominantly white surroundings, it annoys me to no end how blacks try to use the race card as an excuse for everything. It seems like it is easier to just blame everybody for your shortcomings rather than take responsibility for them yourself. When an Asian fails a test, do they blame the test for being "culturally biased"? No, they say to themselves, "I didn't study hard enough," and they go and fix it.

I think a lot of AAs need to read or watch The Boondocks and pay closer attention to the social message. In the episode with Martin Luther King Jr., I love the comment MLK makes about how he, and the others that fought for civil rights, did not go through all of the beatings, arrests, and abuse for blacks to sit around and be handed things. Laziness is not a characteristic of culture but unfortunately it seems like it is quickly becoming one. I have the utmost respect for the African Americans that appreciate the freedoms and opportunities they have, whether or not they are completely equal to that of whites, and take advantage of them-get an education, work hard, get a good job, etc. It pisses me off when blacks use what happened to their ancestors hundreds of years ago as an excuse to be lazy. Yes, racism is still alive. Yes, not all things are equal yet. Yes, the white man is afforded much more than minorities are. But things are a lot better now then they were. It is an incredible injustice to those that actually did fight for civil rights for you to sit around, be lazy, and not take advantage of all the freedoms and opportunities they won for you and your race. So quit your poorly written, poorly worded bitching, get off your lazy, welfare collecting ass and do something-get a job, get politically involved to make things more equal, just do SOMETHING!!

Gallapalooza

So, I was born in a little town (actually it's current status is "Village") in Southeastern Ohio called Gallipolis. I still have family and friends that live there and I LOVE going back to visit. However, as of late, every time I cross over the Gallia County lines, trouble ensues.


My last trip down there was for a wedding. The middle son of my parents best friends was getting married and although no one in my family was actually in the wedding, we were all invited to the rehearsal dinner. Now, I have known this family all my life... my mom and Sandy were preggers at the same time with Gabe and myself so I've known him since way back in the fetus days. His parents are like my second parents and visa versa. I mean, the trip before this one, Gabe and I were up drinking til like 11 am and we, and by we I mean me, drove drunk to get some doughnuts for everyone to enjoy when they woke up but unfortunately I was speaking in tongues and doing "Sally O'Malley" impressions. I sounded like I was on crystal meth and told everyone that "Gallipolis is like Las Vegas but with less naked people." Go figure. It's a good thing I don't embarrass easily.


Ok, back to the topic at hand. The, uh, lady that Gabe is/was planning on marrying is, uh, speeecial. Let's call her Stephanie... yes, the names of everyone have been changed, not to protect them, but to protect me. Well, she is your typical Gallia county native. Her dad is a farmer and her mom is a nurse. She literally is about the same size as the 50 foot woman and although she isn't completely unfortunate looking, she ain't that cute either. Also, some of us doubt her intelligence. Gabe, on the other hand, has his masters degree, is very clever and quick witted. They're really not well suited to spend eternity together but I didn't learn this until, that's right, the night BEFORE the wedding!


Ok, so the rehearsal dinner... the Uptings and the Millers come from a long line of partiers so I was completely pumped for this event PLUS Gabe's little sister, whom I adore, was going to be there. We arrive in GP at approximately 8:00 pm and by 8:27 my mom is well on her way to drunk Cindy mode which can 1) be hilarious or 2) suck ass. Luckily for my dad and I it was hilarious. She was dancing with everyone, including those that didn't want to dance and almost fell in the pool a few times. Then she got my dad to dance. Gotta love it when the old people cut a rug! Most of the elders cut out around midnight or so but the kids, we were in it to win it that night. Molly, Gabe's sister, Brent (her boyfriend) and myself headed over to Molly's parent's house, aka the thrill up on the hill and once we got there, went directly to the Pole Barn. The Pole Bar is legendary. It's literally a barn, complete with 4 wheelers, photos of Ronald Reagan and a fridge that is ALWAYS stocked with Bud Heavy and moonshine, among other things. Molly's dad, Rhett was already starting the festivities with Gabe and Stephanie's dad, Stan, and her sister. (This sister is a whole blog in herself. We called her Skeletor all weekend and she decided to accessorize her bridesmaid gown with some huge ass purple hickies on her neck. Yum.) Gabe dared me to try and fit inside a doghouse and of course, I was, "Yeah. I'll do it". Turns out, I didn't fit. Stan offered me a good suggestion though, and by good, I mean gross, creepy, etc. He said, "I know what you should do... take off all your clothes and rub KY jelly all over yourself." Um, no. First of all, no and second of all, I became acutely aware of the fact that these people were going to be Sandy and Rhett's in laws, effective immediately. Concern doesn't even begin to cover it.

After that incident, Molly, Brent and I went inside and made our traditional disgusting drunk meal of spaghetti and Velveeta. It's so much better than it sounds, I swear. After we were full of noodles and cheese, the other two passed out but I decided that I wasn't done so I headed back to the Pole Barn where I found Gabe and we stayed up til 4 am talking about marriage, stocks, New York, you know, the usual. I made the executive decision that we needed to go to bed because, after all, he was getting married the next day.

Stay tuned for more about the wedding day... it's all down hill from here.

Goths: The Hippies of the 21 Century

I had this idea a couple of month ago but thought I'd add it to the blog. Goths, you know, the disenchanted kids that think its cool to only wear dirty black clothes, black makeup, do drugs, and be depressed all the time are the 21st century's equivalent to the hippies of the 60s and early 70s.

Hippies fought against establishment; they went against popular beliefs, dress, values, behavior, etc.; they did lots of drugs; they tried to protest or fight against different issues but were usually too lazy to get anything accomplished; they had a heavy influence on the music of the times (ultimately resulting in the creation of a new genre); they were a drain on society; most out grew the lifestyle when they reached their 30s although there are those few exception.

Goths, who are sometimes grouped in with the more extreme group of vampires share many of these characteristics. They are typically the disenchanted youth shun by the 'popular' kids. They often join other goths to gain a sense of belonging. They choose to dress in all black clothes, wear black makeup and nail polish, and chains to show that they aren't going to cave-in to popular trends. They smoke weed, do acid, crystal meth, and whatever cheap drugs are available (note they often do not do coke or the more expensive drugs because they typically come from broken homes and don't have the financial means to support such a habit). Their behavior is often characterized by behavioral outbursts, tardiness, laziness, disregard for rules, etc. Finally, the amount of Death Metal has increased because of this group. How many Goths/Vampires do you see running around over the age of 30 (not including Marilyn Manson and the dude from Mindfreak)?

You could argue that Goths are a far more violent group compared to the hippies who were all about peace. But I do not think this difference shows how these two groups differed, rather it reflects how American society has changed, allowing Goths different means to carry out their same stupid goals (get back at society or the 'popular' kids that made them outcasts in society).

So my point is, Goths, mommy and daddy still love you. They are just really disappointed that their son or daughter grew up to be such a socially-inept loser. Society did not make you an outcast, you chose to make yourself an outcast by choosing to wear black clothes, black makeup, and walk around like the world was out to get you. So put down the makeup, turn off the scary music, take a shower, quit doing white trash drugs, get a job, look at people in the eyes when you talk to them, and reconcile with your mommy and daddy because lets face it if you don't outgrow this ridiculous phase, you're just going to end up swallowing a bullet anyway!!

Erin Daye

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The Beginning of the End...

Since 23% of all American internet users either read a blog or write one of their own, I have decided to join the blogger-movement. In this blog you will find my opinions and diatribes on everything from daily news to celebrity gossip to the dumb things that happen to me on a daily basis. So sit back and enjoy this brief glimpse into my twisted mind...