31 December 2008

tonight, tonight, tonight

Last post of the year, last top 5 of the year. What's that you say? This song isn't from 2008? Well guess what - fuck you! None of these fucking songs are from 2008, but they're also all from 2008. Figure that one out - you fucking nit picky uppity fuck.

Top 5 Songs of 2008

Enjoy Bitches:

#5 - Bump N' Grind - R. Kelly

No better song to scream at the top of your lungs before getting kicked out of pint night and banging a tranny. "BUT MY BODY IS TELLING ME NO!"

#4 - Can a Nigga Get a Table Dance? - 2 live crew

If you've ever spent any time in a "gentleman's club" and by gentleman's club I mean a titty bar where they'll grind you because they need money to buy baby formula, support their meth habit, or just have "daddy issues" - then this song is for you.

#3 - Little Tiny Mustache - Stephen Lynch

If you've ever dated a jewish broad, or had a friend who dated a war criminal this song is sure to make you l-o-l.

#2 - Make it Rain - Fat Joe

Through out the year this song provided hours of l-o-l-ing (and as a matter of principal I never l-o-l). Ever wonder what it'd be like to get off the metro and make it rain on a vagrant? Or how it would go over at church if you made it rain on the volunteer passing the collection plate? And for the record - making it rain = gangsta, making out in the rain = gay.

#1 - Tonight, Tonight, Tonight - Genesis

One of the greatest songs ever written. The inspiration for this blog, a strip club coming to you soon, and a song that is perfectly okay for a car full of drunk men to sing in a gas station parking lot. The next person with an unkind word to say about Phil is going to get fucked up.

Top 5 honorable mention....only for the video

#1 - Beliy Plaschik - t.A.T.u.
This song actually is from 2008, by far the best video of the year. I have no idea what they're saying, and I can't decide which is hotter, when the one broad gets completely naked, or the pregnant one get's shot - either way pass the picante sauce and lock the door on your way out.

we don't need a reason, no explanations

Let me preface this by saying - there's nothing wrong with being gay. You like to smoke pole? Fine by me - sometimes I like to shove a finger in my ass while I'm wearing a prom dress, watching a porno of a parapalegic midget banging a horse, and jerking off using pace picante sauce as lubrication. What ever get's you through the day. On the other hand there is something wrong with being straight and doing gay things. With that in mind I present

2008 - top 5 queer moments :

#5 - Making out in the rain starring Celluloid Hero

As if making out by itself wasn't gay enough, when you make out with a broad in the rain it takes it to an entirely new level of faggotry. However, the fact that the broad in question was a nazi war criminal was cool enough to make this the least gay of the top 5.

#4 - Leaf Peeping starring Jefferson Steercock

Wow. This perhaps was most shocking because not only does it rank high on the gay scale, but it came from someone whom I least expected it from. Leaf Peeping? You could get caught jerking off in your own beer while listening to Hanson's greatest hits and have it be less gay than that. Also leaving a picture of said gayness as your facebook profile picture months later only adds to the faggotry.

#3 - Flat out GAAAAAYYYYYY starring anonymous

Facebook status messages should be saved for inside jokes, and things that you post while hammered. Sadly, even status messages were not safe from the onslaught of faggotry that swept the nation in 2008. Cuteness is definitely gay. And by cuteness I mean lil' cute messages you leave on your significant other's facebook page.

#2 - Phone Faggotry - manager Jen

If you absolutely must speak to your significant other on the phone in front of friends and strangers try to keep the level of queerity to an absolute minimum. Unless you're getting ready to get in a shoot out with the cops, storm a beach, or have a liver transplant; there is no reason to say "I love you" on the phone - tell them when you see them. Better yet, tell them after they do something deserving like letting you cum in their mouth, or letting you have a three way with her and her hot sister. Although I'd still opt for calling them a whore in lieu of "I love you", it's a term of endearment in my book. But I digress, somewhere along the line this year I had to overhear a woman telling her boyfriend this on the phone:

"I miss your voice"

#1 - Spoonman starring Rob Gordon

Proving that not even yours truly is immune to being gay. Usually nothing makes me feel better that having a broad cry after sex. Either because she realizes she just got done banging me, the roofies wore off, or maybe an uncle used to take some liberties back in the day. Unfortunately, in a certain situation this year when I usually would have been wiping my cock off on the drapes before rolling out the door, I found myself on the wrong end of a snuggle.

29 December 2008

you'll say "my, it's been a long, long time", I'll say "how are you? I've been fine"

While the Lions may rank dead last in the National Football League, Detroit still ranks #1 in at least one category. That's right, highest overall crime rate among cities with populations over 500,000!!!! So sorry Baltimore, better luck next year. Get fucked St. Louis. There are so many more ways to get assaulted in Detroit and the surronding suburbs. It brings a tear to my eye. And it's due to dedicated individuals like Michael Nordstrom.

GOODLAND TOWNSHIP, Mich. — A 40-year-old Lapeer County man beat his girlfriend with a cell phone, bound her with duct tape and held her captive for about nine hours because of text messages from a friend, authorities said.

No doubt it probably looked and sounded something like this:

and the very next night:

28 December 2008

it's taken so long to see it, cause we never seemed to have the time

2008 has not been a good year for teams supported by yours truly. From the epic failure of the Detroit Lions; Newcastle on the brink of relegation; DC United failing to make the playoffs; and the Blue & Maize posting their worst record in 129 years and missing a bowl game for the first time in 42 years. So while there were not many moments to choose from, and I'm thankful this isn't a top 6 list, in chronological order (although I was tempted to do this auto-biographically):

the top 5 moments in sports 2008 edition

#5 - 2008 Capital One Bowl (January 1, 2008)

Lloyd Carr snaps a four game bowl losing skid with a 41-35 win against Florida in his final game as head coach.

#4 - Luciano Emilio hat trick vs. New York Red Bulls (June 14, 2008)

While none of the goals were particularly spectacular, it was Emilio's first hat trick for United and provided a glimmer of hope during an 8 game unbeaten streak.

#3 - Ben Olsen goes 15 minutes for United vs. LA Galaxy (June 29, 2008)

Olsen's only appearance in 2008 came before 35,000 in a 4-1 victory.

#2 - US Open Cup Champions (September 3, 2008)

The only hardware United would win all season. Goals from Emilio, and Fred.

#1 - 500th game at Michigan Stadium (September 27, 2008)

Michigan came back from a 19-0 halftime defecit to beat Wisconsin in front of 109,000 at the Big House.

25 December 2008

well I remember, I remember dont worry

Can I count it off? December 25th marks the passing of the godfather of soul, I'm pretty sure something else of historical signifigance happened today, santa's birthday of course - but who gives a shit? In honor of the passing of Soul Brother #1, The Minister of the New New Super Heavy Funk, Mr Please Please Please, 'the Original Disco Man', the hardest working man in showbiz, the King of Funk, Papa Dynamite and the undisputed owner of the best male perm ever...going down like a monkey presents:

the top 5 James Brown songs

Enjoy bitches:

#5 - Living in America 1985
You probably remember this from Rocky IV, right before Ivan Drago gave Apollo Creed the beat down, this is also one of the top 5 songs with a shout out to the #1 city on earth "Detroit City" right in between two cities that have never cracked the top 5 in murders per capita New Orleans and Pittsburgh

#4 -Say it loud (I'm black and I'm proud) 1968
if I was Barrack Obama I'd insist that this replaced "hail to the chief" at all state dinners, although that freedom hater strikes me as more of a village people fan

#3 - The Payback 1974
Payback is a motherfucker. This is my theme song. take it from a grudge holding motherfucker with a chip on his shoulder.....as smokey said - "You got knocked the fuck out... gimme my goddamn money... yeah payback's a motherfucker, Nigga."

#2 - Get Up (I feel like being a) Sex Machine 1970
fewer things put me in the mood for sending an innapropriate text message than this song. a fucking classic, I want this shit played at my funeral right before six hookers carry my casket out of the liquor store where the ceremony is held

#1 - It's a Man's World 1966
Truer words have never been spoken. it's a man's world baby, and the rest of you are just living in it

cos jesus he knows me, and he knows that I'm right

For me there's no better way to celebrate the birth of Lord Baby Jesus, lying there in your...your little ghost manger, lookin' at your Baby Einstein developmental videos, learnin' 'bout shapes and colors...than by getting shit faced and making booty calls to every jew you know.

After all, it might not be what eight pound six ounce baby Jesus don’t even know a word yet, just a little infant, so cuddly, but still omnipotent would do. But his little known older brother Craig would appreciate it. Happy x-mas bitches:

24 December 2008

but I can see the fires still alight, burning into the night

I've never been a big fan of those shitty motivational posters that are usually hanging in your company conference room, or in your self-important jack-ass know it all boss's office. The one with a picture of some drooling retard in a wheel chair crossing the finish line at the special olympics with the words "perseverance" written underneath it - with some feel good definition "the difference between success and failure is....." written by some liberal tree hugging freedom hater in Vermont somewhere. If you need motivation, look no further bitches:

23 December 2008

I'll get you everything you wanted, I'll get you everything you need

top 5 non-traditional christmas tunes

#5 Nerf Herder - "I've Got A Boner For Christmas"

all year you've been in a rut, this time let's do it in the butt

#4 Run DMC "Christmas in Hollis"

Took out the license and it cold said "Santa Claus"
A million dollars in it, cold hundreds of G's
Enough to buy a boat and matching car with ease
But I'd never steal from Santa, cause that ain't right

#3 Tom Waits "Christmas card from a hooker in Minneapolis"

And I wish I had all the money - That we used to spend on dope

#2 Black Crowes "Back door Santa"

I ain't like ol' St. Nick, he don't come but once a year

#1 Beck "Little Drum Machine Boy"

ejaculating like buffet tables and record labels
spin 'em around, play around, like a dreidel
kinda science that puts ya back into the cradle

there's this girl that's been on my mind, all the time

top 5 songs about no one in particular

The Beatles "Something"

Freedy Johnston "Bad Reputation"

Barry White "It's ecstasy when you lay down next to me "

Heart "Alone"

Mute Math "You are Mine"

14 December 2008

tell me it's black when I know that it's white

Wow, I thought everyone used the internet the same way: browsing for porno of broads who look like ex-girlfriends getting gang banged, porno of broads who are 18 but look 15 and are getting gang banged, porno of broads who look like both an exgirlfriend and who are 18 but look 15 and are getting gang banged, trying to buy roofies on craig's list, and of course making charitable donations to the national orginization of women - god damn court order. Now finding that perfect scene of that size 22 pastyface trailer trash is going to be a whole lot easier, at least for some:

Blackbird beta is available for download
Nov. 24, 2008.
After more than six months of development, 40A, Inc. has completed the development of the Blackbird internet browser, a software application designed for the African American community by the African American community. The Company has also today announced a grassroots marketing program to promote the Blackbird Browser -- making available banners and buttons for use on websites to promote downloads of the Blackbird Browser. The Blackbird download graphics can be obtained from the Company's website under the tab, "Spread the Word."

This is such fucking horseshit. I like overweight white chicks with big fat asses in my porn too. Now I can't see it because the internet is getting all segregated? Not cool. Actually, I don't like white chicks with big fat asses so it's not going to affect my jerking off....errrr web browsing one bit. However some people are getting all uppity about their pornography being taken away. Below are just a few of the comments left on one of the company's press releases promoting the new browser (I ommited the most racist ones.......but if you'd like to read them they are right here - I mean here - seriously they're here)

Sheldon Wayne - December 12, 2008 at 7:32pm
So where is WhiteBird, BrownBird, RedBird and YellowBird?? The very idea that black people need a "unique" web browser speaks volumes about its developers. If you ever want racism to die this kind of none sense has to be killed. Do you not see that you are promoting the very ideas that racism is based upon. C'mon a little common sense is all it takes!!

joe buzz - December 12, 2008 at 8:53am
Nice work! I suppose you are still testing your beta versions of; Yellowbird, Brownbird, Redbir,. Olivebird and PastieWhitebird?

Drinkin 40 - December 10, 2008 at 3:03pm
Brandon best shet yo white ass up before I cap yo honky ass

Blacky - December 10, 2008 at 3:01pm
Yo this browsuh be the shit, now I can get maps to all of the local ABC stores and KFCs without the white man bringing me down

Where da 40 at? - December 10, 2008 at 1:57pm
Yo son where da fortday at son i tried on google i was like shit who dat is white crackers spinning shit wit da forday and da fried chicken. Dis is what i been waitin on son you know was good you see dis banadana it is what it is shortay time to get some fried chicken and some fordays.

confused - December 9, 2008 at 9:24pm
I refuse to use this because google and many other sites still appear white, if we are going to do this we should do it right and make EVERYTHING black. Also can we make the icons spin like my rims? that would be cool! maybe have like some mad intro beats when you open it, you know keep it real.

Bananas flambe - December 9, 2008 at 9:22pm
Black people get on the internets?

Woc Da Phuc - December 9, 2008 at 4:00pm
Hi, my name is Phuc Dat Bich. Are you guys planning to make an "Asian Browser?" Us Viet Congs are looking for better ways to find Pho, Coffee shops, and most importantly...a browser with a sideways/slanted perspective. Thank you, Phuc Dat Bich

Mrs. Cracker - December 9, 2008 at 3:48pm
Truly genius! I'm Caucasian myself (notice my name :)) I'm going to share this wonderful browser with all of my colored friends for Christmas. This is so crackin' it makes me feel like sayin' "Ain't no thang but a chicken wang!" WOOOOOOO

Such outrage. Blackbird can have all the bbw porn. Take that repugnant shit off of my web browser so that next time I've got my pants around my ankles, belt around my neck, two fingers shoved in my ass, and all my klenex and lotion layed out I don't somehow stumble on to some 350 pounder with an unkept bush dropping down to get her eagle on. The only comment I really disagree with is Mr. Phuc Dat Bich's...I know at least one person who'd be upset if the sleepyheads got their own web browser.

13 December 2008

I cannot believe it's true, are you really doing the things you do?

Yep. We're fucked. As if Red Sox fans weren't superstitious enough. They're changing their road uniforms to resemble those from the 80s. We all remember the 1986 World Series right? Fucking Bill Buckner.

"For long-time fans, the new road jersey will be a trip down memory lane, in that it will resemble the road grays worn in the 1980s during the days of Jim Rice, Dwight Evans and Bob Stanley." -Red Sox COO Mike Dee. "

Mike Dee, seriously, what the fuck are you thinking? Haven't we suffered enough? I'd rather look toward the future of the Red Sox. Not the goddamn past. Especially the fucking 80s! (well, at least the Red Sox in the 80s) Why would you want to remind us of 86 years of heartbreak and "close but no cigar" seasons? I hope you get hit in the head by an errant foul ball on opening day.

Oh yeah, they get new "alternate" hats too.

They suck also.

12 December 2008

the memories are hazy now, I don't recall at all

I can count the number of great things that have come out of New Jersey on two fingers. (If you disagree I suggest you take those additional fingers and insert them in your ass you cum gurgling fuck bucket)This is the story of one of them, perhaps I'll get to the other one some day soon. Hoboken New Jersey - December 12, 1915: a man that solidifies the term "man's man" was born.

Frank's music is amazing. If you don't like his music - you clearly have no taste in music and can eat the dingleberries off my taint. I choose to focus instead on the stories surronding his life. From running a train on Marilyn Monroe with JFK, to burrying hookers in the Vegas desert with Sam Giancana, to his infamous 1,200 page FBI file. But greater than all of that is the list of broads that found themselves on the business end of Sinatra's cock:

“We’re animals,” he said, “each and every one of us, that’s what we are, and we’re damn proud of it, too . . . I’m just looking to make it with as many women as I can.”

When he got tired of putting stones to wife number one - Nancy Barbato:

“I can have every dame I want I just can’t help myself. I don’t want to hurt Nancy. I just don’t want to sleep with her no more.”
Dueces Nancy and Alora Gooding, Lana Turner, or Marilyn Maxwell, or Marlene Dietrich.

Frank didn't take shit from anyone, especially a dame.

While married to Ava Gardner, Sinatra struck a deal with the press, later dubbed "Sinatra's law", which made his private "daliances" off limits to their freedom hating asses.

Taking full advantage of the "Sinatra law" he started spitting his blue eyed game at Grace Kelly's sweet sweet ass. Unfortunately she was like most broads, misguided and thought she was a princess for no other reason than dudes that were trying to bang her led her to believe her shit didn't stink.

“Grace regarded Frank as a street kid . . . She was on a different level. She was a princess long before she married Prince Rainier.”

So when Frank showed up hammered for their first date, she opted to marry some Prince from Monaco and ultimately living out the dream of all women - being a completely useless money grubbing hole. Ultimately snubbing Frank and her eventual cincinati bowtie from the Shah of Iran caught up with her in 1982. Ha Ha - bitch.

Not to be out done by Grace Kelly, Frank set his sights on that pillow biter Anderson Cooper's whore mother - Gloria Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt's triffling ass left her crypt keeper husband (he was 73, she was 31) for Frank. Satisfied with breaking up yet another happy home Frank dropped her ass after only a few weeks.

Ciao Ciao

Still not satisfied Frank decided to steal limp dicked Humphrey Bogart's raspy voice having floosie - Lauren Bacall.

When Frank arranged a birthday party for Bacall in Las Vegas, in September 1956, her husband stayed away. He was “edgy and resentful” when she got home and she soon found out why. “He was somewhat jealous of Frank,” Bacall remembered, “. . . partly because he thought Frank was in love with me, partly because our physical life together, which has always ranked high, had less than flourished with his illness.”

Always classy, he waited until old Humphrey died of cancer - and his own divorce from Ava Gardner to become final, before popping the question to Bacall in 1957. But Frank kept it real, real real. Once the press caught wind of his impending marriage, he did what any "man's man" would do - he changed his mind. When asked if he was marrying her Frank replied:

"What for? Just so I have to come home earlier every night? Nuts!”

Enter countless hookers, call girls, dames, broads, skirts, whores, harletts, and jezebels - you get the idea. Then Juliet Prowse, who didn't like it when Frank got drunk and acted like an ass:

"when he got drunk. He tore into good friends for no reason, or would throw things on the floor if the service was not as he wanted it to be”

Ummm...where's the problem in that? Sounds like normal behavior to me. If R. Kelly and Heart would have been around in Frank's day I'm sure he would have found himself singing those at the top of his lungs too. So Frank got sick of banging her out and moved on to Norma Jeane Mortenson, better known as Marilyn Monroe to you uncultured motherfuckers. (Turn on A&E's biography once in a while you classless shit). And in a move that has inspired me in my personal life, Frank sent a car to pick her up from.....yup you guessed it New York’s Payne Whitney Psychiatric Clinic. As if Marilyn Monroe weren't hot enough as is, Frank got to dick her down at the height of her craziness - right after her marriage to Arthur Miller collapsed. God damn that bitch was crazy.......crazy fucking hot. I'd pay good money just to sniff Frank's dick after he got done smacking her with it. But as with most crazy women, she would be dead 18 months later. And Frank was never brought up on charges. (only kidding Frank didn't kill her - although it would be a better story if he did) So while that bone smuggler Elton John was busy writing candle in the wind, Frank was back on the trim prowl.

Like most men, he begab to miss his ex. Frank dreamed of Ava Gardner's sweet sweet ass and attempted to reconcile things with her. He soon realized her hotness had expired years ago (she was now 42). That new hotness belonged to 19 year old Mia Farrow. Her dumper must have looked like two volkswagen's racing under a tarp back then. Her smoking hot fire-crotch young twat would end up married to Frank soon thereafter. Many wondered if Frank would realize her haircut made her look like a redheaded lesbian mule. Whether it was the haircut or perhaps her suggesting that they adopt a young South Korean girl that they could raise and later Frank could bang he soon came to his senses. As legend has it Frank grew tired of her shit with a quickness and decided instead of fucking her on their honeymoon he'd rather go to the bone-yard with some rando hooker. Can't argue with that. After returning from the honeymoon Frank layed up with Tiffany Bolling for a while before deciding that Mia Farrow wasn't even worth the time it would take to break up with, opting instead to send his heartless fuck lawyer:

One afternoon, without prior warning, Frank’s principal attorney, Mickey Rudin, showed up on the set of Rosemary’s Baby with separation documents drawn up and ready for signature

In addition to taking all these broads to pound town, he always had time for a friend. After running a tag team on Marilyn Monroe that would have made the Hardy Boyz proud, he introduced JFK to one of his many mistresses Judith Campbell Exner. But don't go thinking the chairman of the board was getting soft is his old age, he dicked her down before recommending her. And while JFK was preoccupied, what do you think Frank was doing? You guessed it he was doing this...or rather her. Unfortunately she would not be the last first lady to fall victim to Frank's ether rag, I mean charm. Legend has it he also played a rousing game of just the tip, just for a bit with old cyclops tits -Nancy Reagan.

Years later he would marry Barbara Marx even though he told his daughters that he was still hoping to work things out with his first wife Nancy Barbato. But luckily for us Frank would stay married to Barbara until his death in 1988. Why does that make fans lucky? Because during his marriage to Barbara he performed over 1,000 concerts, which can only lead me to the conclusion that Barbara was such a nagging, annoying, whinning bitch that Frank couldn't stand to be in the same room as her and choose instead to get the fuck out of the house.

Happy Birthday Frank. Look for part II later today, and find out how you can honor the memory of Frank and perhaps become a "man's man" yourself.

I can feel your eyes go through me but I don't know why

I've worked in a restaurant before. It can get rather messy. One time my dog licked my pant leg for an hour because I smelled like food---or because I drank too many roofie coladas. Anyways, I would never dream of taking a bath in the deep sink. Oh you know, the one that the guy named "Nacho" uses to soak all the dirty pans. That is exactly what three lovely gals did at a KFC near Reading, CA. Of course it's not the sexy girls in the cage to your left. That would be way too hot to comprehend. No, it has to be three broads who have never turned down one of the Colonel's famed "bowls". The only thing that could have been sexier would have been all three of them taking a "grease-from-the-deep-fryer" shower. Then the night manager saying to himself, "fuck my life" and setting them all on fire. Ultimately retiring to the office, dressed as Malibu Barbie, and writing the schedule for next week.

Extra gravy. To go. Please and thank you.

11 December 2008

you want it, you've got it, you've got to go

It is that time of year. The all-knowing hipsters at Rolling Stone have published their top 50 albums of 2008. As soon as I heard TV on the Radio's "Dear Science" back in September, I was firmly convinced it was the best long player of the year. I was shocked Rolling Stone would agree. They are normally all about the Top 40 drivel that occupies the terrestrial airwaves. Fear not kids as we dissect the rest of the "50 best albums of 2008".

#2 Bob Dylan: Tell Tale Signs - The Bootleg Series Vol. 8
Don't get me wrong, I love Bob. However, it's getting to the point (with Rolling Stone) that if he were to release an album burning his house down with a bunch of Taiwanese sex slaves---then pulling the ether bunny on Joan Baez and/or Pete Seeger---it would generally get favorable reviews. Five stars. Instant classic.

#12 Guns n' Roses: Chinese Democracy
We waited thirteen years for this vile crap? Did the editors even get past track four? Sounds like a collection of shitty James Bond themes. And I mean worse than this.

#40 Jonas Brothers: A Little Bit Longer
Really? In this instance you have to ask yourself one question: If I was a teenage girl, would I be ashamed to listen to this crap ten years down the line? The answer is a resounding "yes". Hopefully, someone will get their walking papers over this one. Which brings me to:

#41 AC/DC: Black Ice
Easily not their best album. How in the hell do you rate those teenage douchebags over AC/DC? Angus Young looks like a convicted child molester wearing that outfit. But he still knows how to rock! Hell, if he did molest some children I would give him a pass. Just because he plays the hell out of that Gibson SG. Any self-respecting parent would be proud to have their child molested by Angus Young.

09 December 2008

they came at night, leaving fear behind...

Ride the Boomerang. Sounds kind of like a kiddie ride at an amusement park. Or maybe a sex toy. Whichever. Pick your poison. I was able to take a ride on the "Boomerang Bus" This past weekend. For those of you that don't know, the Boomerang Bus is a converted school bus that carries 35-40 drunks around DC on Friday and Saturday nights. Taking them to various clubs/bars. This is my recap of the night. Some things have been omitted. Either because I felt like it, or too drunk to remember.

9pm. I show up to Rumors. The official starting point of the night. The place is absolutely fucking dead. I check in with the Boomerang people and head straight for the bar. 2 beers later, we leave.

We get on the bus and honestly I have no clue what I'm in for. The bus is a shoddy ass reincarnation of an actual Limo Bus. This deathtrap is painted sky blue. There are christmas lights and 3 stripper poles. The hardwood (read: plywood) floors are stained from hundreds of nights of drunks spilling every alcohol known to man on the them. It doesn't smell bad (yet). My immediate reaction: This is going to be awesome. (no bullshit. I was totally sold by this point)

While at Rumors the party "hosts" (idiots who the Boomerang employs to liven up the party. Apparently. Don't get me wrong, I'm jealous of these people. They get paid to get drunk and ride around on the bus every weekend. Greatest job ever) inform us that we will be traveling to 3 clubs/bars. Ultrabar, Eyebar and Rhino Bar. So, away we go to our first destination: Ultrabar. This time of night, the bus is relatively calm. People haven't been drinking that much and for the most part, everyone is behaving.

One of the good things about this whole ordeal is the ability to drink on the bus. Which is always a good thing. I mean, I know when I was in elementary school all I wanted to do was get drunk on a school bus. 15 minutes and 3 beers later, we arrive at Ultrabar.

We were carded on the bus, given VIP bracelets and in we went. Cutting the line and all that jazz. Upon entering this fucking dump I was hit with a shitstorm of supposed "audio and visual stimulation". There were lasers, phasers, flashing lights, smoke and all types of other horseshit to completely fuck up your motor skills. I can only tolerate about 3 seconds of this so I make a run for the pisser. While in bathroom (which was of course manned by an non-english speaking attendant) I hear some Frat Boy say to some other dude "The royal penis is clean your heiness." At this point in time, 10 minutes into the time at the club I decide that I hate every fucking club in DC. And the douchebags that frequent them. I take a piss, wash my hands and head to the bar. Now the talent, the decor and the overall vibe of the place doesn't warrant such snobbery, however this is what I was in for:

Bartender: What do you want?
Me: Bud Light.
Bartender (confused look as if I'm speaking a different language): We don't have Bud Light. All we have is Stella.
Me: Fine. I'm so drunk it all tastes the same anyway
Bartender: That's 7
Me: 7 dollars? You do realize that Stella Atoris is like the Budweiser of Belgium right?
Bartender: (blank stare)
Me: Fine, I'll drink this $7 dollar bottle of dog piss. But, I'm not fucking happy about it.

The bartender gives me the death stare. You know what I'm talking about. The one where your girlfriend catches you checking out some broad's rack at a bar. Yeah, that one. I shrug my shoulders, laugh and stumble on my way.

Now, Ultrabar has 5 levels. Each with its own bar and music playing. The level with the lasers and shit is the second floor. The one with the Zulu bartender and the bathroom is on the first floor or the basement (you come in on the level with the Star Wars lightshow). So, after deciding that levels 1 and 2 suck we head up to level 3. Yeah, that one sucks too. More like a loft that overlooks the 2nd level and the Star Wars lightshow. Spent all of a minute here. On to the 4th floor. Which is actually decent. about 20 feet wide and probably 60 feet long (measurements seriously affected by the amount of alcohol that I have consumed). Very sterile looking. White walls, white couches, white bar top. Whatever. Everything was fucking white. This was the point where I was introduced to the "VIP Section of a club." Which is nothing more than a couple of tables on a platform about 4 inches high. Behind, you guessed it, white fucking velvet rope. I was not impressed at all. Whatever, this bar has Bud Light, so by now, I'm relatively tolerable. We notice more stairs and come to the conclusion that is the "Ultra Super Secret VIP only Level of the club". Mike talks the guy into letting us up and away we go. Basically the same thing as the 4th floor. Except there is a DJ. Well, there was a guy with a MacBook and headphones. I guess he could've passed as a DJ. We hang out for a little while, head back to the 4th floor and then we leave. Rather eventful.

Back on the bus. Of course I fall over as soon as I get on the bus. Landing in the laps of a couple of unprepared drunks. By now, the entire bus is completely shitfaced. People are dancing on the stripper poles. Falling down, spilling beer. The whole bus reeks of alcohol. I was stoked. Just like a pig in shit. 15 minutes and 3 beers later, we arrive at Eyebar.

This is when I lose all basic motor functions and am stumbling around like a 2 year old that is just learning how to walk. I'm hanging on to the bar because I'm afraid of falling over. Total drink tally at this point was probably 11. Keep in mind that it's a little after midnight and I hadn't eaten anything since 2pm. I order a Bud Light (which pleases me) and I stumble back to the rest of the group. So, we're hanging out around this small hi-top table. Thank God that thing is there. I'm convinced that the sole purpose of this table is to keep people from falling down. After I drink my beer, I take a piss again. Upon exiting the bathroom I decide that I'm pissing too much and decide to switch from beer to something that won't make be piss every 3 seconds. So, what do I start drinking? Double Crown and Coke. We hang out. Mike spills my $9 dollar drink, I get made fun of for being a Lions fan. I stumble around like an idiot for a little while. Then it's time to leave. (One of the bad things about the Boomerang is you only stay at the clubs for an hour or so. Which is good for shitholes like Ultrabar. But, I was kind of tolerating Eyebar. Which could've just been the fact that I'm Eddie Van Halen drunk right about now)

Back on the bus, on the way to Rhino bar. Now, I have no clue where Ultrabar or Eyebar is. So, ultimately I have no clue where the fuck I am in DC. I do know this, I am on the way to an actual bar. In Georgetown. A place that serves alcohol by the pitcher and there are sporting events on TV. Not like Ultrabar that was showing "The Professional" on the plasma.

Anyway, we're on the bus. People are so drunk is absolutely ridiculous. I see a bottle of Jack Daniel's getting passed around at the front of the bus. So, immediately, I decided to do shots. I stumble to the front grab the bottle from some drunk frat boy and take a shot. He looks at me, I look at him. We both laugh and take another shot. I swear, it was like fucking Christmas on that bus. For whatever reason, I decide to honor Motley Crue. This is how it went down:

Me (while waving the bottle of Jack around): This one's for Vince Neil, Mick Mars, Nikki Sixx and Tommy Motherfucking Lee!
Stupid Frat Boy: What? Who is that?
Me: What? That's Motley fucking Crue! That's who the fuck that is!
SFB: Oh...

Me: You don't like that?
SFB: Uh...
Me: Oh yeah? Well, why don't you go toast to Steve Perry and Journey. You fucking douchebag.

I get the blank stare from the dude and I stumble back to my seat. Making sure to grab a bottle of Captain Morgan from some broad. Take a swig, pass it back to her and fall down into my seat again.

I can't see straight. I can't stand up. I have no clue where I am. All I know is I'm on the way to a Red Sox bar and I'm fucking pumped. We get inside, barely make it upstairs and find a hi-top table. 10 minutes goes by and I see Mike. He's tracking the wall like a dog that has it's equilibrium all fucked up. This motherfucker is drunker than I am. He hobbles over to the table and damn near falls down. Again. He decides to go to the bathroom. The room is spinning, my whole body is numb. Still can't see or stand up. I make the executive to go home. I track Mike down. I'm pretty sure he's trying to hit on a plastic tree. Grab him and we're out. I catch a cab tell the guy where we're going and we're gone. We don't even make it to the Air Force memorial before I see Mike puking down the side of the cab. The cabbie pulls over, shouts some Arabic obscenities and then proclaims that he can't work anymore because his cab is now full of the reminants of Miller Lite, Red bull, Vodka, and various other types of alcohol. I give the cab driver a $50 bill and tell him to keep driving. (the fare was all of $9.) I tell him to take us to the Bungalow and we'll catch another cab. I even offer to clean the goddamn cab out. Which I thought was fair seeing as how my boy had violated the inside of his cab. He declines and we head for Springfield. We get to my complex and are parked outside the gate. Total cab fare: $24 and some change. This is how I ended the night:

Jihad Cabbie: I need another $10
Me: What? Are you fucking kidding me?
JC: You friend. He throw up in cab. Another $10.
Me: Fuck You. I'm not giving you shit.
Mike: What the fuck is going on?
Me: Mike. Shut the fuck up. Listen dude, I'm not giving you any more money.
JC: He throw up in cab! I cannot work!
Mike: Don't worry dude, we got you.
Me: Mike. Shut up. Man, I gave you $50 bucks. Without hesitation. I offered to clean your cab. I told you to drop us off somewhere and we'll take another cab. And now, you want more money? Go fuck yourself.
Mike: Fuck.
Me: Goddamnit Mike. Get out of the cab and go wait over there
(he exits the cab and stands in front of the gate. Looking like a border jumper waiting for the right time to jump.)
JC: You owe me 10.
Me: Fuck off dude. I gave you $50 for a $24 fare and now you want $60? Blow me.
JC: Get the fuck out of my cab. (I'm already standing outside the cab when he says this)
Me: Fuck you! I'm not even in the goddamn cab!
JC: Fuck you!
Me: (I slam the door) Fuck you! I know Fenty and I'm reporting your ass.

He gives me the finger and then speeds off.

All in all, the night was a success. I drank myself retarded. Toasted to Motley Crue. Yelled at a Cab driver. I probably wouldn't ride the Boomerang again. Hell, you never know.

I do know this though, I fucking hate clubs.

08 December 2008

now she don't even know my name. But I think she likes me just the same.

Any football fan hates it when their team plays really shitty. I'm a little different, I can't stand my team losing to a squad with busted looking cheerleaders. Where the hell did they find these broads? Working the late shift at Denny's in Greenbelt? Fuck. Is that really a Sharpie in her boot? Is Cal Ripken-Fan-For-Life from Dundalk going to ask for her autograph? If you're going to give me the disservice of making my team look bad you can at least let everyone in the nation believe you may have some attractive women in your city. I think I'd rather jack off to pictures of Ruth Bader Ginsburg while rubbing Cholula all over my sweaty man-tits. Oh, how I loathe thee Charm City.