Tastes Like Melons

It's been a while. The knee is getting a lot better and I've really wanted to get back to writing down my stupid stories. My wife's friend, Jocelyn, sent me an email yesterday that reminded me of this story and it inspired me to share. Note: some names have been spelled differently to protect the privacy of those involved. Some haven't. Some names have been made up because I can't remember them. Also, for some reason I decided it would be easier to write this in the third person.

Cast of Characters
JT: me
Kelly: JT's wife
Jocelyn: Kelly's bff
Sera: Jocelyn's sister
Craig: JT's friend and Jocelyn's boyfriend
IBTC (itty bitty titty committee): Sera's coworker
Tits McGee: Sera's coworker (has boobs the size of basketballs)
Melons: Sera's coworker (has boobs the size of...well...melons)
Bob and Lisa: Sera's next door neighbors and friends of Jocelyn, Craig, Kelly, and JT


Quick background info: Kelly's former company is a very large employer in the western suburbs of Chicago. Jocelyn and Sera also work for that company. Through association, Kelly also knows IBTC, Tits McGee, and Melons and has seen them around the office. Last summer, Sera threw a party at her house and invited all parties mentioned above as well as a couple other douche bags not worth mentioning. This is what happened.

Sera's party stated at 7 pm. JT and Kelly decided to show up at 8 pm and only stay for an hour because Kelly wasn't comfortable hanging around some of the people she worked with. By the time JT and Kelly arrived, Sera, IBTC, Tits McGee, and Melons were already well on their way to getting noticably drunk.

After 45 minutes of being at the party Sera asks Bob if he can get out his kids' slip and slide. Sera and Bob set up the slip and slide and then Sera, IBTC, and Melons change into their swim suits. JT and Kelly look at each other and both say at the same time, "This isn't going to turn out well."

Sera and IBTC went down the slip and slide a few times, and then went Melons. Melons decided that it would be a good idea to go head first. As soon as Melons got to the wading pool at the end of the slide, the water had pushed her top down exposing her ginormous boobies. JT and Kelly had bet going which woman this would happen to first. Kelly bet on IBTC, but JT won with his bet on Melons because he knows the physics involved with water, sliding, and the likelyhood of boob flashes.

As soon as Melons stood up, exposing her bosoms, the party errupted in applause and hollers. JT knew at this moment that he and Kelly needed to stay a bit longer. JT knew that this was the type of party where boobs were going to pop out of tops like moles popping out of a whack-a-mole machine.

Now, Sera and Bob and Lisa live in townhomes connected to each other and their back yards are also connected. Sera's back door is about 10 feet away from Boba and Lisa's back door. In the townhomes, the door to the back yard opens into the kitchen. After the boob flash by Melons, Bob, Craig, and JT walk into Bob's kitchen to do some shots and shoot some shit. Shortly after that, Melons and ITBC walk into Bob's kitchen asking for a shot. They all do several shots together and then Melons walks behind IBTC. IBTC turns to JT and starts talking:

IBTC: Your Kelly's husband, right?
JT: Yep. Hey, I heard you know my mother-in-law.
IBTC: Yeah. I've know her since I was a little girl, and then I used to work for her. I love Sue. She's the best.
JT: Nice.
IBTC: I've know your wife for a really long time too.

At this very moment, Melons reaches around IBTC, grabs the bottom of IBTC's shirt, and pulls it up over her head. Tits were viewed. ITBC quickly pulls her shirt down and thus began a flashing fiesta between IBTC and Melons for the rest of the night.

JT, Craig, and Bob: Now that wasn't nice of you. Since you just lifted up her shirt, you have to show yours to say your sorry.

Melons proceeds to pull down her suit top. IBTC then pulls up her shirt. This went on for a few minutes.

JT then walks outside to where Kelly, Lisa, and Jocelyn are sitting talking.

JT (starting to get a little drunk): Kelly, you know that chick you know that knows your mom?
Kelly: Yes.
JT: Well, one minute she was talking about how much she likes your mom and telling me how she know you and then she was showing me her boobs.
Kelly: That doesn't surprise me.
JT: OK, just thought you ladies would find that funny. I'm going back to the kitchen now.

Nothing too exicting happens for a while, except JT is becoming more intoxicated. And as this happens, JT's mind stops filtering what comes out of his mouth. JT also decides that since he will probably never see Melons, IBTC, or Tits McGee again, he will speak freely. And since there were lots of boobs earlier in the evening, nearly everything that was going to come out of JT's mouth would be boob innuedo.

For example, later in the evening JT and Lisa are in Lisa's kitchen having a drink. In walks Melons.

Melons: I want to do a shot.
Lisa: What kind of shot do you want. We have lots of stuff. You want a Jaeger Bomb, an Orange Whip?
Melons: No. I'm tired of those.
Lisa (opening her liquor cabinet): Let's see. We have Jack, tequila, Captian, Midori.
JT: Oooooo, Midori.
Melons: What's that.
JT: Oh, you'd like that (lifting his hands up to his chest like he's cupping a pair of breats). It's made of MELONS!

Hence, the nickname Melons. Melons is so drunk she quickly forgets why she came in to the kitchen.

Later, JT, Craig, and Tits McGee are talking in the kitchen. Jocelyn walks in to check on our progress with Tits McGee. JT looks and Jocelyn and opens his mouth.

JT: Jocelyn, where's your other beer?
Jocelyn: I have my beer right here.
JT: Your other beer.
Jocelyn: What other beer?
JT: When you walked in earlier (lifting his hands up to his chest like he's cupping a pair of breats and looking at Tits McGee) you had TWO HUGE CANS of beer!
Jocelyn (laughing): You're and idiot.

The rest of the night was mix of vague memories:

1. JT's conversion with Tits McGee after hearing that she was recently divorced:
JT: something obnoxious.
TM: Wow, you sure are cocky.
JT: Yeah, but obviously your ex-husband wasn't cocky enough for you.

Zing!

2. Melons sitting in a lawn chair, passed out, puking her fucking brains out.

3. Craig consoling Tits McGee in the garage because of what JT said--the whole time trying to get her to take her shirt off and show her boobs.

4. Lisa telling JT that he needs to come to all their parties.


The Aftermath
As a result of JT's actions, he will most likely never be invited to one of Sera's parties again.

JT does not know the whereabouts of IBTC or Tits McGee.

JT and Kelly were at a volunteer event for Kelly's work and saw Melons. It was very awkward...and her boobs were still gigantic.

Melons works in Jocelyns department or building. Jocelyn emailed JT yesterday:
Subject: MELONS!
Text: She's in my office right now!
JT's reply:

Only One Leg to Stand On

I apologize for the absence of recent posts. I had knee surgery a week and half ago and I was really busy leading up to the surgery and really drugged up after the surgery and didn't have time to put up anything new.

I've been getting requests for Spa Day Part 2 and also have my week of rehab with a host of workers painting and performing carpentry on my house while I lay incapacitated and drugged on the couch lined up.

Stay tuned.

My Gigolo Income

I took a quiz this morning to determine the monetary value of the services I provide on what I like to call the naughty cushion. According to the quiz, the average person is worth $164.01 in bed.

What am I worth?


Powered By TheirToys


Wow. That's roughly 7 times what the average person is worth. By my calculations, if I take the number of hours my wife and I have had sex and multiply it by $1,117, she should owe me a whopping $33.51.

Spa Day: Part I

Last weekend my wife and I spent an afternoon at the spa. We had a body scrub, massage, and a facial. This was my second time going to the spa (the first time I went I got a massage). I used to strongly believe that only women should go to the spa and be pampered and men should run through thorny bushes and do things that make us sweaty and dirty. But I have seen the light...well, sort of. Going to the spa is nice once you are able to get past some of the new and potentially awkward experiences.

Note: When you go to this spa, as I assume is the case with most spas, you undress and put on a robe. Then you go and wait in "Tranquility," which is just a waiting room where people can sit and relax until they are ushered away for their treatments. Underwear is optional. I chose to wear my underwear because I was afraid my robe would come open and expose my rod and tackle to innocent people...not that I would be embarrassed, but I didn't want other people to be embarrassed (especially other guys--you know what I mean).

The Body Scrub
Marta, my scrubber and masseuse for the day, has a European accent from either one of the Scandinavian countries or perhaps somewhere in eastern Europe. She's somewhat butch, with short blond hair and rippling biceps. She takes me to a room and tells me to take off my robe and underwear, if I am wearing any (because the scrub down can get messy [I'm digging this already]). As she is leaving the room to give me some privacy, she lightly runs her hand down my arm. [AWKWARD MOMENT #1: What the hell was that? I don't think that is part of the scrub. That seemed a little too touchy feely.]

I strip and lay on the table, face up, and cover my whoopee stick and skin purse with a towel. Marta enters. The first thing she does is move the towel closer to my peiner so my thighs are exposed. As she does this, she grazes my schlong. [AWKWARD MOMENT #2: I haven't been touched down there since I met my wife, not ever by her, but I guess accidents happen.]

Marta then scrubs down the front of my body. The scrub was nice, if you like the feeling of being rubbed down with wet sandpaper. Marta then grabs the towel and holds it up to cover her view of my hot nakedness and tells me to roll over. [AWKWARD MOMENT #3: Without thinking I turn towards her and am pretty sure, despite her holding the towel up, that I just gave Marta a full frontal.]

Marta puts the towel back on me and adjusts it so that most of it is shoved down the crack of my ass. She then proceeds to scrub my back side, including the cheeks. Marta leaves the room, I get dressed, and then I meet her in the hallway. She tells me to go take a shower and wash off the body scrub and that my wife should be done shortly and will meet me in "Tranquility." As I walk away she brushes my arm again. My wife enters the waiting room and asks me how the scrub went and vice versa. I ask her if she got her ass scrubbed as well. [AWKWARD MOMENT #4: My wife looks at me, laughs, and says, "No, I didn't get my ass scrubbed." I sit and contemplate whether or not I just got molested.]



Spa Day: Part II--Massage and Facial coming soon

Me No Update So Well

It's time to update this biznatch. As always, it's been a while. Here are five things that have happened since my last update.

1. My wife told me to "stop being a snatch" the other day because I kept complaining about how the vinegar she bought wasn't what I needed for a dinner recipe I was making. It came out of nowhere and made me laugh histerically. It's not everyday my wife calls me a dirty name or something of that nature, but when she does, it's always funny as hell.

2. An Orville Redenbacher commercial forced me to explain to my wife that popcorn is actually a breed of corn and that they don't take sweet corn and magically process it into popcorn.

3. A lunchtime discussion about pork made me realize that I didn't know which part of the pig pork chops come from. As an enthusiastic pork eater, I was very dissappointed with myself. However, I was able to find this informative diagram at the 90 Meat Outlet. (HAM is ASS!)

4. I had a dream that I was stirring a litter box full of cat shit.

5. I found out I am going to be an uncle again. I've very happy for my brother and his wife. It also makes me question whether or not I'm ready to be a father. Part of me says, "You're ready. You'll be a terrific father, teacher, and role model." The other part of me says, "You should not have a kid. As impossible as it sounds, somehow, you'll accidently flush it down the toilet."

RIP: Turkey Sandwich

It's time to say goodbye, Turkey Sandwich. We've had some great times together. Remember all those times I ate you. Yeah, me too. It was awesome. You were so lean and delicious...simple, yet so complex--I could eat you with white bread and plain old yellow mustard, or dress you up all nice in artisanal breads, cheeses, and fancy lettuces.

But it was too much, I'm bored with you. After so many years, no matter how I dress you up, you bore me. I'm burned out. Everytime I see you, I want to puke. Oh yeah, I've also been cheating on you with Ham Sandwich. And sometimes I feel really dirty and have a hot Italian foursome with Hard Salami, Proscuitto, and Capicola. I can't help it. I have needs.

Maybe someday we'll meet again, when we've both matured a little. But for now, I have to bid you adieu.

It's a New Year!!!

It's been a few weeks since my last post so I'll just take a cue from my friend Lucy at I'm Someone Special and make a list of things that happened over the holiday season.

December 22
11:00 AM: My brother-in-law, Bryan, came over and we started drinking and playing Rock Band on the Xbox 360.
3:00 PM: My wife, Kelly, comes home from shopping to find Bryan and I pretty tipsy, standing in the family room, putting on a show like the gods of rock we thought we were after a few drinks.
3:05 PM: Kelly says we need to take a break to help get everything ready for our party that night.
3:07 PM: Bryan and I convince Kelly to rock out to one song and then we'll start the party prep.
4:30 PM: After about 15 songs of rocking out with Bryan and Kelly and because I was getting hoarse, we decided to take a break.
6:00-9:00 PM: People come over, eat, eat, eat, drink, eat, mingle, people make fun of me because of how drunk I got at my birthday back in November, drink, eat.
9:10-12:00 PM: It is a Rock Band free-for-all, about 20 people are taking turns rocking their fucking faces off.
12:05 PM-12:40: Most people leave. Wash dishes.
12:45 PM-2:00 AM: 6 people are left at my house. Rocking out continues. By this point I'm so tired I'm shredding guitar in my sleep.
2:05 AM: In bed and starting to dream of rocking out.

December 23
Went with Kelly and her parents to breakfast and see the Chicago Symphony Orchestra play Christmas music. I only fell asleep three times. Once was before the show even started. The choir was filing out of doors at the back of the stage into their seats and it was like counting sheep. One minute I'm looking at the stage, taking in the sites. The next minute I'm getting elbowed in the ribs to wake up, my head slouched down to my knees, fast asleep.

Overall the music was good, the choir was good, the dancers were retarded.

December 24
Went to Michigan City, Indiana, to visit my dad, Dave, his fiance, Theresa, and meet her family. I wasn't sure what to expect, but everyone was very nice and we had a very pleasant time. The only hiccup in the evening was when the family's friend, Tommy, suggested that Dave and Theresa should have a kid. I almost shit my pants. Theresa made it clear that that wasn't going to happen and all was well in my world again.

December 25
Kelly's mom's side of the family came over for brunch. I was in charge of cooking breakfast meat. Kelly was doing it, but decided it would be a good idea to pour scalding hot bacon grease into a plastic Dixie cup. She got burned, I took over, which was awesome because I finally got a chance to show off my cooking apron that looks like lederhosen. Then the buffet warmer that Kelly had purchased the day before didn't work, which meant "Christmas is ruined!" After containing that little meltdown all was well. And except for somehow managing to flip my plate of food off the table and all over my lap, it was a nice day spent with family and friends.


December 26
Had to go to work, but took 2.5 hour lunch with some other guys at Brazzaz. I ate fancy meat until I thought I was going to either vomit or poop a meatloaf. We ate so much that despite being an all you can eat restaurant, they stopped serving us food.

December 27-30
Went to Middeltown, Ohio, to visit my dad, Steve, and that side of the family. My uncle, aunt, and cousin from Virginia were also there.

We also got to see my mom, her boyfriend, John, and my aunt Gigi. My 83-year-old aunt sang karaoke. She rocked our fucking faces off.

I'm really glad we got to see and spend time with everybody. I'm also really glad I got to spend time with the carrot cake that my grandma's friend, Ellen, made. She makes the absolute best carrot cake in the world. Hands down. I'm also glad I got to spend time with the huge container of snicker doodles my grandma made. I had so many cookies, cakes, and sweets while I was in Ohio I could pee syrup.

December 31
There was a very bad snow storm in the Chicago area over New Year's Eve. So we (well...not really me) decided that despite the weather it would be a good idea to have dinner with a couple of friends.

On the way to the restaurant we almost died in a fiery crash of movie explosion proportions (at least that what was going through my mind) when our car didn't stop at a stop light and continued to slide down a hill through cross traffic, barely missing two cars. Then, when I went to turn into the restaurant parking lot, my car decided to keep driving straight. I cursed...a lot.

Dinner was awful. The service was good, the wine list extensive, but the food was horrible, especially for the price. Never go to the Turf Room in North Aurora, unless you like eating cardboard.

After dinner we were supposed to go to another friends house to bring in the New Year, but call it a night, drove home in the storm with my butthole puckered the whole way, and capped the New Year off with a crappy movie.

That's all I did.

100 Wing Failure

Two of my friends and I recently went to Buffalo Wild Wings and ordered 100 wings. This isn't the first time we've done this, and I'm sure it won't be the last. But what made this time particularly interesting, and disappointing, was that this was the first time we weren't able to finish all of the wings.

Factors That Led to Failure:
1. We normally order 100 wings with 10 different sauces (from "Medium" to light-your-asshole-on-fire "Blazin'". All the wings are brought out and once and we are able to sample the sauces however we want. The downside is that with 100 wings, towards the end they start to get cold. This time we asked for 50 first, and then 50 later. Well, the first 50 were all the milder sauces. The second 50 were all the hot sauces. Instead of being able to move from hot to mild and vice versa, we had to eat all of the hot wings at one time. Seeing as the really hot sauces will make you pee fire, this was a difficult task to undertake.

2. Usually it is is me and my two brother in law. This time is was my brother in law and one of my other friends (who said he was up for the challenge, but then cursed us straight to hell for the torture we were putting him through).

3. I had already eaten shortly before we went. That was a stupid and amateur mistake on my part.

Despite our server bringing us milk, I just couldn't finish. The hotness of the wings wasn't the problem, I was too full. I thought about giving binging and purging a try, but just couldn't go through with it. I let my friends down. But most importantly, I let myself down.

Finally, I'd like to thank the hot girl that bought me a glass of milk. Your kindness in my time of downfall was greatly appreciated. (Who would have a thought that joking around and rubbing milk on my face because I couldn't feel my lips would be a turn on. Oh, well.)

Beating Up a Swarm of 5 Year Olds

I found this website (How Many Five Year Olds Could You Take in a Fight?), which tries answer the age old question of how many children you could beat up before being overtaken.

The rules are as follows:

You are in an enclosed area roughly the size of a basketball court.
There are no weapons or foreign objects.
Everyone is wearing a cup (so no kicks to the groin).
The children are merciless and will show no fear.
If a child is knocked unconscious, he is "out." The same goes for you.

My magic number: 31

It's good to know that if I ever get swarmed by 5 year olds, I will be able to gouge, bite, kick, and mercilessly pummel through 31 of those little bastards before I get taken down. It would be a bloodly, but epic, battle.

Be-yah!!!

1,666 Words a Day

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is fast approaching and starts on November 1. For the two people that read this stupid blog and might not know, NaNoWriMo is a competition held every November where you have to write a novel of 50,000 words in one month. That comes out to roughly 1,666 words a day.

Over the next two days I'm going to try and think of a concept for my novel and stick with it...but I'm sure it will eventually revert back to what I know best:

not getting laid enough;
cock and boob jokes;
smelly foreigners on the train; and
more dick jokes

I'll post some excepts along the way and a final version when I'm done. So if you like to read x-rated zombie clown porn sprinkled with recipes for dishes ranging from polish sausage and saurkraut to tuna and bean salad to snicker doodles, then you are in for a treat.

Don't forget to wash the sweet spots!

J

Invading My Space

I work in the city and my wife works in the suburbs. Yesterday morning my wife had a job interview in the city, about 3-4 blocks from where I currently work. We rode the train together.

My Wife: "Wouldn't it be great if I worked downtown. We could ride the train together everyday and we could meet up for lunch all the time. It would be so much fun!"

My Mouth: "Yeah, that would be fantastic."

My Brain: "Oh God, oh God, oh God! Why have you forsaken me? My wife is cronically late. She'll mess up my whole morning routine. She also talks a lot, and loudly. I won't be able to take my morning nap on the train. And my wife will be 'that really loud woman who can't shut up.' How will I be able to take my evening winding-down nap on the train ride home? Jeez, don't we spend enough time together? Somebody save me!"

My Mouth: "Good luck with that interview. You know, I've been thinking of switching jobs as well."

My Brain: "Maybe something in the suburbs, closer to home."

Someone To Do My Stuff

I found one of the coolest websites today--DoMyStuff.com

Basically, you post a chore, job, or other task you need done and people bid on those tasks. The lowest bid wins and gets to do said task.

This would be great for all the chores I hate doing: mowing the lawn, picking up dog shit, emptying the dishwasher, vacuuming the house, picking up dog shit, wiping my ass.

It would even be great for stuff my wife hates to do: put away any of her crap, have sex with me. Ummm...those seem to be the only things she doesn't like to do.

And while this service is geared for those individuals who don't have the time, knowledge, or ability to complete these tasks, I'd post tasks just because I'd rather pay someone else to clean up dog shit while I watch TV.

Random Thoughts

• I hate it when I'm sleeping on the train to work and fart...cause I'm awake enough to feel it coming, but asleep enough that I can't stop it. Then I make a noise to cover it up, like a loud cough or grunt...but it's already to late...everyone is staring at me.



• I used to make fun of my friends by saying the only way they could get laid was by making a hole in their mattress and filling it with jello. After being married for a year...I'd hit that!



• My dogs really like to lick each others' wieners.



• I drew a moustache on a bottle of vinegar just so I could call it a douchestache.



• I imagine getting punched in the boob is a lot like getting kicked in the nuts...there are a lot of women I'd like to punch in the tit.

That's all for now.

Baby Makers Union -- Local 647

My wife and I have been trying to make a baby for a few months. When we finally both agreed that it would be a good idea for me to have little JTs running around, I thought it would be sex all the time. And in the beginning, it was...for about a month. Then, when my wife found out that she wasn't pregnant, she started to do a little in-depth research on ovulation. Apparently there are only a few days out of the month when it's prime time for making babies.

That's when I started to feel like a union worker.

"Hey, we got job for you. It's only for about 3 or 4 days. Then you'll be laid off again."
"Well, do I have a chance at any extended work?"
"No, don't expect any more work until next month. And don't you dare call us asking around for a little hand out. We'll call you when you are needed."

Gym Etiquette

I go to the gym a lot. I see a bunch of weird stuff that goes on at the gym, and hear even more from a few of my workout buddies. I'm pretty easy going and can tolerate a lot, but some things I have to draw the line at.

Here are three rules of etiquette that should be followed to make your workout, as well as other patrons, more enjoyable.

1. Don't stand in front of the mirror with your shirt pulled up rubbing and checking out your stomach. You know who you are middle aged, Mediterranean-looking guy. You're not sexy. You don't have washboard abs. You have the gut of an eight months pregnant hairy gorilla.

2. Wear deodorant. You're at the gym, you're going to sweat and probably smell a little bit. But there's a big difference between a little workout stink and the smell of rotting meat boiling in baby diarrhea.

3. Steam rooms and saunas in the men's locker room are for steaming and sauna-ing, not giving each other blowjobs. I've never actually seen this, but my friend did. However, I did see a guy start jerking it while in the steam room. That was the last day I ever felt like a steam and the first day I started changing in the handicapped toilet stall like an insecure junior high kid who didn't have his pubes yet. Remember, the gym in the middle of the day isn't the time to act out your favorite porn scene from Sauna Suck-offs 4.

The Pork Shop

Hello loyal readers (I think there are only two of you). I've only been doing a post a month, but I'm going to try and increase that to at least one a week.

I just back from vacationing in Arizona at my sister's house. While I was there we found the most magical place on earth just down the street from her house. We went to a party on July 4th, and for the party this woman made some of the most delicious pulled pork I have ever tasted. I complimented her on her pork-pulling capabilities and she said, "Thanks. But I didn't make it. I bought it just like this from the Pork Shop."

Me: "The pork what?"

Her: "The Pork Shop. It's a little store just down the road that sells all kinds of pork products."

It was like a thousand bazookas went off in my face, a light beamed down from the heavens, and angels started singing "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Just for some background: I LOVE PORK PRODUCTS!!! It's my favorite animal to eat of all time.

Immediately after hearing about The Pork Shop, I turned to my wife and sister and told them we have to go there first thing in the morning.

I woke up salivating the next morning and almost didn't put pants on to save time getting out the door and into the car.

The Pork Shop sits just off the side of a dusty desert road. As we pull into the small dirt and gravel parking lot, the dust clears to reveal a small beige box with big letters stating "THE PORK SHOP" (nothing too impressive so far). A quick glace down and that's when I see the various murals of pigs on the windows and I realize that this a place of dreams, a pig Disneyland if you will.

We step through the door and are greeted by the succulent smell of all of the most spectacular pork products I could ever imagine, and a youngish-looking man with a very large and impressive handlebar moustache. I knew, at that very instant, I had found one of the most special places on the planet.

I now know that anytime I visit my sister, the first thing I want to do when I get off of the plane is go straight to The Pork Shop.

Unfortunately, we forgot our camera on the trip, but I found some pictures of The Pork Shop on the eGullet Forums if you want to take a look at a slice of heaven.

Still Alive!

To the one or two people that read this crapfest. I'm still here, just really busy. I'll try and get some new posts up soon. Before I go, I want to leave you with this tidbit.

I went to the Indy 500 a couple of weekends ago. It was a blast. Because of the rain delay, there was nothing to do except stand around for three hours and drink...and look at floppy, lop-sided Indiana tits. Well, technically they were from Kentucky, but that doesnt' really matter now does it? If you went to the 500, I'd like to know how it went.

The comments are open. Give me some feedback. Tell me you hate me and want to smack me a around a bit. At least I'll know you're out there.

I Rule the Pelvis!

I was bored today and decided to look up my zodiac sign. Being born in November, I am a Scorpio. According to this site, "Scorpio governs the pelvis." This explains a lot, as I have been known to do most of my thinking with my little head instead of my big one. Also, I have been known to make girls orgasm just by thinking about it.

"Right. Whatever. What a douche!" That's what your thinking right now; but remember, I govern the pelvis. So before you start getting angry and jealous because you're, to quote my friend Craig, hung like a tuna can, Scorpios are also more susceptible to pelvic ailments, including priapism. What's priapism?

Well, priapism is the medical term for a painful, chronic boner. It's not soothing to read that at anytime I could pop a 4 hour or more stiffy. Most guys would probably think this would be awesome. But unless your job is a porn star, think how uncomfortable it would be to do anything outside of sex with a raging semi.

But I guess that's the price you have to pay when you rule the pelvis.

Sneaky Peeper

I was over at my brother-in-law's house for a "party" awhile back. It was actually me, my wife's two brothers, and their cousin. We were hanging out, playing video games, and watching TV when eventually some girls showed up. My wife's brother, Bryan, and the three girls sat at the kitchen table talking while the rest of us watched TV. After about an hour, Bryan took one of the girls upstairs. After about another 45 minutes, I started to get upset that Bryan was being a bad host because the other girls were left downstairs and looked bored (since I'm married I couldn't help them out with their boredom the way I wanted, and my famous penis shadow puppet show was out due to inadequate lighting)...so I decided to cock block Bryan.

I got a ladder from the garage and decided to peep through Bryan's bedroom window. [NOTE: Do not peep on brother-in-law when he's making out with a hairy ape. It was cornea searing.]

Regardless of the condition of my eyes...mission accomplished. When they found out I was watching (after some banging on the window), ape tits left the building.

Next time Bryan, let me know your taking a girl to your room so I have time to hide in the closet. That's what a good host does.

Amazing Aerial Acrobatics...or, How My Friend Was Run Over Walking to Work

It's funny how people will tell you something and you ask how it happened, thinking its going to be an awesome story, and it turns out to be really lame. For instance, my friend Carrie calls me and says, "I got hit by a car today!" I'm immediately thinking, "Holy shit...that's awesome." But of course what I say isn't necessarily what I'm thinking. So I say, "Oh my god! Are you OK? How did it happen?"

[At this point I'm hyping myself up for the best story ever. How many times do you get hit by a car walking down the street?]

Carrie: "I'm fine. Just a little sore and I banged my knee."
Me: "Well, at least you're OK. So...so...how did it happen?"
Carrie: "I was crossing the street and this guy turned the corner, didn't see me, and ran into me. I put my hand on his hood and said 'whoa buddy' and kind of rolled off the side of the hood and onto the ground."
Me: "What!?! That's it? ... That was lame. I'll call you later."

What a disappointment. Here's how I would have told the story, regardless of how it happened.

"This guy was weaving through traffic as I started to cross the street. I was few steps from the curb when the car decides to turn and is now headed right at me going eleventy billion miles an hour. I had just enough time to take off my shoe and throw it at his windshield, but it didn't work; he was still barrelling right at me. I had to think fast. From years of being in the high school pom squad I developed almost superhuman leg strength. Just as the car was about to turn me into a spot on the pavement I launched myself into a double toe touch. The car came screeching to a halt right under me. I landed on the hood of the car in a perfect tuck position...but when I tried to climb down, I got my shoe caught on the windshield wiper, tripped, and fell off the car and banged my knee on the pavement. It was so clumsy and I was soooo embarrassed. I went to the hospital to get my knee checked out, had sex with the doctor and ER nurse, and my boss gave me the rest of the day off."

Yes, much better.