Thursday, July 24, 2008

You can now Digg the Self Help Podcast

No thanks to any of you, but you can finally digg my podcast over at

I submitted the podcast months ago. But for some reason digg would not approve my podcast. I finally contacted customer service and asked why. I got an e-mail response 30 seconds later. I guess the folks over at digg are bored. I convinced them to approve the podcast after exchanging 5 e-mails with digg support team.

I expect at least 10 diggs by the end of the week or something terrible will happen to you. I will rape your sister. I will rape your girl friend. If you are male I will rape your pee hole. I am not kidding.

Monday, July 21, 2008



Cut Off Your Pussy: A three part treatise on the history and evolution of the sexual double standard.

This is simply a must read.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

You can't blog about nothing, or can you?

I am fucking up the linear nature of this blog by posting over old drafts. I don't care. I know none of you do either.

Another day off. I did nothing. If by nothing you mean I went to the bank to turn in my change so I could have enough money to cut my hair and get lunch at the whataburger. I then took the rest of my cash and splurged by eating dinner at some new Hawaiian Grill that opened down the street in a strip mall. Nothing says delicious like Hawaiian grilled breakfast skirt steak in Arizona. MMMmm.

It was tasty, shut up.

Today I have no celebrity news. I have no desire to write fat girl jokes or insinuate how much you masturbate. And since I did not got to work today that pretty much exhausts this blogs descriptive possibilities. For some reason I still felt the need to check in to day with you. (Today for me is the 22nd.)

I noticed the Drunken Stepfather found a video on youtube (nsfw) where a girl shakes her ass. I know that is not news as 45% of youtube is made up of women shaking their asses. But this time the woman was naked and doing a booty dance around her kid. I am sure that sounds like a crime. The kid is like a 3 or 4 and toddlers that age are miniature tornadoes. He is shirtless and running around like he is on the plains of Idaho or Kansas looking for Dorthy.

I can't get over how a mother would do that. She does a booty shake. She shows off her obscenely oblong tits. I have seen smaller utters on cows. The child makes a break for the camera. Webcam Mom stops the child from throwing around the camera much like a reformed Britney Spears paying just enough attention to notice that her kid loves cigarettes as much as she does.

It looks like I went ahead and gave you some celebrity news after all. I can't help myself, even knowing that Jesus Martinez gave you all this shit first. I still feel like I gave my own interpretation and spin on it.

I also sent a myspace message over to my new friend Eric Schaeffer. I told him my about my trouble with watching one of his videos over at NetFlix. I don't fuck around with these kind of things, I go straight to the top. I forgot to mention to him how I don't fuck around and go straight to celebrites when I need help solving my problems, because as we all know celebrity is the only way things get done in this country. I still hope he sends me a video from his collection so I can at least see the movie.

I had to e-mail a celebrity because Netflix sent me three copies of Gunshy and not one of them worked. I was supposed to save them and call back customer service at Netflix and they were going to look into the batch and what not, but I just gave up on the whole thing, because I am slacker loser like that, and the only thrill I get anymore is giving up on shit and while that "thrill" is really just the half-life feeling of hope dying at least that shocks me into remembering that whatever life I have left is being spent up by watching myself drown in a pool of resentment and pathetic ironic detachment better left for douche bags and hipster trash that love insulting the faux earnestness of teen angst bullshit. (see the video dipshits that's why it is included below.)

The other day after watching the Batman movie (and convincing a workmate that I enjoy wrapping my girlfriends in duct tape and garbage bags, locking them in closets for a few hours and then pouring ketchup on them in order to simulate blood because I have a strange fetish and some girls are really accommodating) I had my own idea for a comic book hero. I'd like to create a hero that really isn't a hero. I don't want him to have any super powers, but somehow he really saves people. Mostly by accident or by letting bad things happen to good people. Maybe part of him likes to hurt people. You won't be able to decide whether he is good or bad. Just that good things sometimes happen around him. He won't want to be a superhero. Unless you count him hoping this is going to get him laid or something. (Which it won't.)

I don't want the kind of anti-heroes we always see. The kind who eventually learn or the kind who deep down you know is really trying to be good. (batman) I don't want to root for the bad guy (sopranos) . I want to make it so that maybe you decide you don't want to root for the guy, but that maybe you have to. (Christian Bale?)

I ended the night by watching the movie the Bank Job. It was like the worst movie ever so don't go renting it. If you do go renting it you can't say did not warn you because I did, and yes I am the kind of guy who says I told you so as I already have told ya in advance because I know you are the kind of person who has to "see for themselves," but where did that ever get you? Instead may I suggest you get showtime and watch Eric Schaeffer's new tv reality series. It is seriously the best thing on TV right now as Mad Men does not air until the 24th of July I believe. I would Google that, but then you would have nothing to look forward to tonight but masturbating on a webcam in front of your children.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Did you notice that I am back to posting? I teach you things about lingerie bars.

You never notice anything. Like how I am back to posting after taking a break. I bet you didn't even miss me that much until you started reading me again and then you remembered how boring your lives were and how pathetic most every other blog you read is and how you only link to those blogs in order to increase your traffic because you are addicted to the attention you think you are getting from people who stop by your site for 0 second and then move on to porn sites where they can indulge their bizarre polish girl sex fantasies.

I got invited to a BBQ today from a friend at work. The texts message indicated that no hard liquor will be consumed and no drama is allowed. I guess dinner parties for teenagers are different than dinner parties for adults. Adults like drama and hard liquor because it gives us an excuse to do the things teens do when they are sober. If I end up going to this party it will be to continue gathering my drinking experiences to put in my book.

Speaking of food, I am considering eating a sausage biscuit for breakfast even though the last time I ate one of these walmart frozen sausage patties I had the runs and a terrible case of gas. I go to work in a few hours, so I sure hope that pattern does not repeat itself, because I ate the patty anyway. I am taking the chance on a bad case of diarrhea because I spent 4 dollars on 30 spicy sausage patties and I don't just want to throw them away on the chance that the patties defrosted in the walmart freezer before I bought them, and are now simply the breeding ground for some anti-biotic resistant strain of microbe that the government planted in sausage patties to reduce the population mass that votes for Obama, because we all know black people love biscuits and gravy.

I should probably go ahead and finish the update from yesterday for you guys on my drinking last night, not that it was really exciting. I was reading one of the free magazines Palo Verde offers to its patrons instead of easy women, entertainment, or good times, and I discovered that Arizona has another lingerie bar. I was a regular at the only other lingerie bar before Mayor Phil Gordon incurred my wrath and lost my vote by shutting down the bar. In case you don't know what a lingerie bar is, a lingerie bar is a bar where the wait staff all dress in lingerie.

What is so great about a lingerie bar anyway?

Class. A lingerie bar is way classier than a nudie bar. And cheaper to boot. You don't have to pay for lap dances and the girls get to keep their dignity by keeping their clothes on. The lat lingerie bar I went to had cheap beer specials too. I remember being astounded one day when I got to the bar and saw they had new menus. I figured the bar had finally gotten around to charging nudie bar prices for their liquor. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that they LOWERED all of their prices. I love lingerie bars!


The women who work at lingerie bars are typically white trash or their ethnic counterparts. Many (if not all) of the bartenders you find in lingerie bars used to 'dance' for a living and now they are too old, too cracked out, or too dead inside to strip down for money.

The good thing about these girls is they are usually the kinda strippers that talked to you for a little before and after the lap dance they gave you, because they get how you only go to strip clubs for the girl friend experience because women don't like talking to you, on account of your policy of no showering, which I guess is good for the planet, but not so good for your prospects of getting laid.


I know that a bar that advertises sexy women dressed in lingerie feels like a place where you can stop pretending to be part of normal society and just indulge in your desire to stare at the back of the saggy and cellulited ass that is pouring you (and your only friend) a warm draft, but don't. Unless her back is completely turned to you, and in that case she will expect you to.

Otherwise it is policy of these places for you to pretend that the bartender is fully dressed and not half naked, and the reason you drove down to the bad part of town and climbed the run down stairs that take you inside a remodeled former apartment complex that now offers postal boxes, and a porn store with gay jacking booths, is because you actually like the drinking specials and sharing your time with the little community of drug fiends, pushers, homeless people with money, and the desperate losers like you who can't find female companionship.

You can always tell a novice at at lingerie bar because they look the bartenders up and down like they are at a nudie bar. Don't be a rookie. You must pretend to not stare at any cleavage until you make a crack about how everyone else here is just a loser and you can probably get a girl friend if you tried because a lot of women ignore the smell of shit stained underwear on men because that is the way their daddy's smelled.

Once you break the tension, you can go ahead and stare all you want as long as you add a little compliment to your voyeurism like, "damn girl you got a booty back there!" She will enjoy the compliment and be brought back to a time in her life when men valued her enough to give her money, and a woman with her life experience knows that money is the best way to show you care about someone.


You might not believe it but nearly everyone in a lingerie bar will be pissed off and ready to fight. Homeless people don't look tuff, but they don't fight fair. They kick and bite and have nothing to lose.

The men inside a lingerie bar are well aware of the competitive pressures they are under, because the only woman who ever steps inside a lingerie bar is the woman who works there, and that means you have to become a regular to get on her good side and get her comfortable with who you are so she does not freak out too much when you ask her out on a date.


another rookie mistake men make is getting all gushy with a lingerie bartenders because it is the first time many of them have had a woman in her underwear talking to them. just realize she is in her underwear for every guy there and she is not looking for a dude who mistakes a little nipple slip for true love

*end of hint*

Avoid one of the biggest rookie mistakes of hanging out at a lingerie bar. Don't ask your bartender out too quickly because then she will just mentally file you away with all the other alcoholic losers who visit her bar. She will dismiss your invitation as the sloppy, drunken, horny attempt it actually is. But if you get to know her you can talk to her like a real person. Remember to show up on a regular basis. Tip her generously enough to leave her feeling good without seeming like a chump who just gives all your cash away to any moderately attractive women who smiles at you. She will want to know that she can trust you will be frugal around all of her prostitute friends.

If you follow my advice then you have built the right kind of moment for you to ask her out. I would suggest inviting her to a party or invite her to do something that she likes (this requires a lot of paying attention to things she says, and is way more difficult than it sounds, as she often will say inappropriate things that make no sense, like how her therapist suggests divulging how her father molested her as a child because keeping secrets is bad, but go ahead and give it a shot.)

You could also go with the whole dinner and movie thing, but play it like you think that kind of thing is lame, but that it might be funny to go on a date like normal people. Maybe she will mention she is a prostitute on the date. Try and ignore this attempt to get your money unless you feel you are being followed by a large Porta Rican, then give her the money she asks for and your ATM card if you value your life.

Good night and happy hunting,

Romius T.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Live blogging my day off from work, which is productive, if by productive you mean I decide to become addicted to beer and write about it for you

I know I should be doing something on my day off that does not include watching the mail box for my Netflix, yelling at the subway guy for forgetting to include bell peppers on my Italian sub, but I don't.

What I actually do all day is watch TV on the computer and try and decide how early it would be OK to go out drinking. I know it takes money to drink and I just found some. I just looked online at my insurance policy and confirmed it does not expire until the 18th and since I get paid on the 17th that means I have an extra 60 dollars that I use on beer.

Now all I have to do is make sure I get up early on the 17th to collect my paycheck and deposit it time to get back home and pay my car insurance online and before I head off to work, because those are the kind of problems that I work on all day when you are feeding your children, or donating blood, or working at getting people to boycott unions, or whatever people like you think is a good way to spend your time, which I always assumed meant going to that cult you call a church that meets in the strip mall.

I watched a movie last night about cocaine and it make me appreciate the sullen, drug infested life style that I have chosen over the pink mini vans and pumpkin pie that is your life. In the movie the main character tries to come up with a reason to save the life of his girl friend who is dying from an overdose. He talks to himself and comes to the realization that his feelings for her do not include love. Since he is not in love with her he decides to pay for a cab to pick up her lifeless body and drop her off at the hospital. Well at least I assume it was the hospital, the movie does not make it very clear where the girl is being sent to.

The movie is set in Florida and I can tell you that it was really obvious that the writer, director understood white trash and addiction. Of course I am too silly of a person to become addicted to heroin and I have no idea how to get cocaine, unless you count me asking the cabbie who drives me to the local dive bar, "if he has any he'd like to sell me because I am working on a book idea." The book idea is me getting drunk and high and writing about whatever stuff happens. [Update: let's go ahead and add me trying to get laid all the time]

So far today all that has happened is I am waiting for the mail man to drop off my movies while I suffer through the occasional impulse to buy a few beers from the supermarket. Maybe I will and afterwards I will go to the local bar and have a few more beers because I don't have to work until 6 pm tomorrow.

I hope you can appreciate all the shit I am willing to go through just to give you something new to read about everyday. I am willing to become an alcoholic for you. I am willing to get mocked when I try to buy drugs just to have something to write about because trying to come up with fictional plot ideas is too hard and developing a narrative for my book is a waste of time.


I think going to buy that 18 pack of beer was a waste as well. I am getting hungry again. I need to finish off the second half of my foot long subway sandwich. Beer and subway do not mix though.

On the way to buy beer I let a fat girl pushing two kids in a stroller cross the street when I could have easily cut her off. In fact my act of generosity was not so kind to my intendee as it caused her to have to speed up a bit and maneuver around my truck to get to the sidewalk.

At the next stop light I checked out a girl in a blue Honda who smiled at me shyly, once she figured out that I was not blocking the sun out with my hand but giving her a come on.

At the dollar store I stopped for peanuts. (nothing says sad like drinking at home with the 99 cent bag of honey roasted peanuts from the dollar store you bought because you were too cheap to pay 3.00 dollars for peanuts at the pharmacy, which you drove to because the supermarket that you work for is too cheap to price match the beer special on the ad you brought in to convince your manager that you were serious about buying some beer and serious about getting beer from the competition if the price could not come down.)

Inside the dollar store a young woman walked up to me and said something like, "Dear young sir, you look like you are really strong do you think you could open this for me?" Then she held up a bottle of soda up to me for me to open, which I did without much effort, so she may be in fact be correct that I am strong.

I purchased a pair of scissors to clip my nose hair (long overdue some would say as both of my other pairs of nose hair clippers are dull and I have since been using the attachment to my beard clipper which I think we all know does not work as well as advertised) along with a pair of tweezers for plucking any extraneous hair around the body (not needed as badly, but what the hell for 99 cents I got both items shrink wrapped together.)

I still have a few hours before I go out drinking and I will blog about my fun night out on the town, so stop by throughout the night to check on my progress getting shit faced and having sex with a fat chick or an ugly chick or if you are the girl I brought home tonight and are reading this as part of some kind of seduction scam on my part-- the really lucky for me-- cute as hell chick-- who I hope won't remember where I live unless you actually are cute then you probably won't want to call me, but if you are into pity sex then so am I.
9:05 p.m.

The beer I bought is still warm even though I grabbed the 18 pack out of the cooler section. I stuck a couple of beers in the freezer and messaged a few friends about how I am going to get drunk without them. One (the ex who broke up with me on Google) replied that I should just stay home and date on the Internet.

So maybe I should. Go to a few chat rooms. For some reason I am dreading going out to a bar now and sitting alone and drinking beer. Not that I want to call any of my friends because I don't feel like hanging with them either. It is useless to drink at any of the bars near my house, ( I still don't drink and drive y'all) because single women are afraid to go to these bars alone. I am not sure I am interested in hooking up with a chick anyway, as right now I don't feel like seeming interesting to other people, or trying to convert them to communism either.

I am on the first beer. It is not exactly cold, but not warm either. I bought a cozy for beer bottles a while back and I am pumped about using it. I am listening to my MP3 player on my roommates karaoke player, because I bought an adapter that allows my mp3 player to play in just about any audio system/ I am so pumped about using it that I am not listening to my music through the computer speakers even though I have all the music on my Phillips MP3 player on my I-tunes. Because I am a dork like that. I know I am dork because my ex ends every text message she sends me with the phrase, "you are a dork." She is not wrong about these things.

* random* dork thought** random on my MP3 player means the same 3 songs. The same 3 bands. The machine picks 3 different songs and bands each time I use the random function like it gets tired of hearing the same thing, but isn't really committed to the hard work of really being random.

I found out a few days ago that my ex "thought of us" as dating when we were seeing each other which is news to me as I only remember her falling all over herself attempting to deny me as her boyfriend anytime anyone ever asked if he were dating.

One annoying little factor about having my stereo on in the living room is that I have to get up and manually change the song every time the random feature on my player selects a podcast or a shitty song. Like right now. BRB.


Update on Star Snacks version of Honey Roasted peanuts. They suck.
Update on 99 cent store scissors for nose hair clipping. They suck.

The peanuts are very salty. You can see the salt. The salt crystals are nearly as large as the peanuts themselves which is to say I am note sure if that means the salt is large or the peanuts are just small though my initial reaction was that the peanuts where small and tasted like cork that a bee shit in.

*currently listening to the "soul doctor" by foreigner.

An underrated tune I must say. I really liked the three bonus songs that came with the greatest hits album. I am only mildly ashamed by this admission. Did I mention I am drinking Bud Light rather than Bud Select because CVS does not have Select in 18 packs just 6 packs? The CVS girl asked me how many beers it takes for me to get drunk. I told her 15 which I think she mistook as me being unwilling to share my beer with her. Which is not true. She was cute enough for me to share my beer with. I was just trying to sound hard. Her reaction? She said, "I hope not that many." I tried to fix her distress by reinforcing the idea that I was joking about the drinking. "Oh, maybe 14." I tell her. I totally blew that one guys. Sorry. You may never get a blog about me having sex.


I am on my second beer. I have decided to choose an album to listen to rather than staying with the random function. I day dreamed that I went to the bar and met a girl who wanted me to read her my blog on her laptop. I imagined the whole crowd at the bar listening to me as I proof read what I have written. At the appropriate time I heard imaginary laughter in my head to all my jokes. I once read that people who day dream crowds of people cheering for them are people who crave attention and acceptance.

I am beginning to warm to the idea of going to the bar. That means I will have to leave you for a while. I think the beer is starting to work, but it is clear to me that it really is my imagination that is making me more comfortable with drinking at a bar tonight. Some part of me really believes that people can't wait see me now.


I just thought I would update you in live time.

I jam to $ign of the 4.

10:26 Live Blogging MySpace

I decide to live blog my attempts on MySpace Messenger inside their chat rooms. I message a 51 year old woman because she is from Phoenix. She does not respond.

Three of the people in the chat room are from Phoenix. This is rare.

Dr. Kristina claims to be a real doctor. I ask Dr. Kristina if, "pooping yellow is bad?" She refuses to reply.


Chatting is lame.


I copy and paste the blog for the chat room. Here is the reaction.

fany7892: kool

wildfire200734yahoocom: your cool

romius t: y thank u

romius t : u just got added to the live blog for thinking i am cool

wildfire200734yahoocom: your cool

rommie: u too wild fire!!!

wildfire200734yahoocom: thanks

rommie: yw


Chatting is still lame.

I am now listening to B.B. King. I am on beer number 4 as beer number 3 is full of ice and is now thawing on the kitchen counter.


I am the hit of chat rooms everywhere. I am beloved. The whole world should be chat. I am so fucking cool. All the chicks love me because I talk trash and I ask is they have big preggo bellies!

Monday, July 14, 2008

"When I get drunk I want to stick my hand up your dress." - A drinker's requiem.

Do you remember when I said I was not going to drink anymore? No, you probably don't . You hardly remember anything I have to say, because your life is so interesting with all the little debbie cakes and the showering you do everyday.

I wrote this even though I have to wake up in 5 hours to go to work. I will not sleep today. It won't matter because I am working customer service this week. For some reason customer service is slow. I was so bored today at work, and had so few customers, that I read 4 magazines. OK! Magazine, Scientific American, Scientific/America Mind, and a pro football preview magazine.

I am drinking again. Last night I went with out with x and his little brother which is a mistake. I must be a slow learner, because I made the same mistake twice last week.

I was driving to Whataburger for dinner when I got the call on my cell phone. I was startled by the ringing, because I don't get phone calls anymore. I get text messages. I set the text messaging alert to vibration on my phone. Now messaging me only sends me warm vibrations. But I got a call and my friend asked me if I wanted to go out drinking with him.
"I though you were going out of town." I managed to communicate into the speaker phone and drive at the same time.

Turns out he got shit faced last night and fell on his knee or something after trying to "grab tit" from one of his male friends so he decided to stay in town. X's little brother mentioned later why he likes to hang out with me, because his brother doesn't have gay tenancies around me. X indicated the reason why he never gets gay around me is that he thought I "might act on his overtures" which is really just his way of hoping I would, which will never happen, because if I were gay I would not be into chubby mexicans (ask my ex wife).

"Where do you want to go?" I ask him.

"Some place with a parking lot."

My friend really talks like that.

We decide to go "dive barring" because in his condition my friend can't walk around so we can't go to Mill Ave or Old Town Scottsdale.

Our first stop is the Palo Verde Lounge. Palo Verde is no longer just a dive bar, now it is a bar full of hipsters. A going away party for the only attractive bartender is in full swing. We get offered pizza but decline politely. I just had a whataburger and I was still full. It took a while to get a beer because the owner/barkeep was sloshed and chatting with his ex employee. He was sweaty drunk and wiped his brow a lot. The owner has a round belly and the medium long hair of a 16 year old dungeon master. Between every effort to pour a drink he paused to brush away at a few strands of hair, curling the stray unwashed hair behind his ear.

We ordered one small pitcher. I drank and the X-man drank, but our designated driver did not. DD did not like the bar and wanted to get out as soon as possible. He thought we might get shot, or attacked by someone. "Not at this bar full of posers." I said (perhaps too loudly) "but no one here will fuck us either." I said it loudly, purposefully. (You were eavesdropping, so you deserve it.)

The rest of our conversation consisted of various attempts to decide where to go next. We can't think of any place to go. All the cool places require X to walk, and he is still being a pussy -even though he has had half of a small pitcher so I believe he can walk.

"I just want to go somewhere I can stick my hand up a girl's dress." I say finally. That seems to bring about a resolution.

We end up deciding on Maloney's. Maloney's is a frat bar located next to ASU. I have not been to Maloney's in quite some time. Maloney's is full of sluts. Sure none of those sluts will fuck me, but at least I can stick my hand up a dress without having to explain anything.

Maloney's is dead because school is out. The bar is also undergoing a major remodel. The bathrooms are all outside in porta potties. But these are the nice porta potties that are like little trailers. They have 4 urinals and 4 stalls located under a roof. You have to climb stairs to go outside and climb another set of stairs to get inside. I laughed the whole time I was peeing because I knew X would just have to hold it while we we stayed here. When I suggested he buy "the big beer" he shot me back such a hurt look that you would have though I had just stuck my hand up his skirt.

The bouncers at Maloney's remain in cock blockery, snobby mode as they await the migration and seasonal return of their brethren. The check my i.d. I sigh deeply while all this goes on. "C'mon dude. I am like 40." I tell the guy who half heartily gives me the "just doing my job, man" routine.

A "big" girl sat next to X's little brother at the circular bar. Little brother promptly stood up and sat down at the booths behind us. I guess he did not want any one to know that he sometimes fat people get near him. He told me that you "can't trust fat chicks" that they are "always on the look out" and they will "take advantage of you any way they can," and that made my friend X think of the time I "made eye contact" with a fat girl, "remember how she took you home and raped you?"

"I told you not to make eye contact with her," explains X-man "but you did not believe me."

"I did believe you. People make mistakes. And sometimes those people pay for their mistakes by kissing a fat woman with a mustache."

We went looking for a bar called Hits. I am not sure such a bar exists. We ended up at the Red Owl instead, but that club has a five dollar cover charge for the white trash inside. As we exited the lobby refusing to pay we could overhear, "I've been thrown out of nicer clubs than this!" from the girls ahead of us in line.

"I am sure you have!" I shout back at four trash-sluts who can afford cover charges my friends and I can't.

Finally we end up at Groggies. I have a crush on the bartender there. She is not working tonight. Groggies is full of human waste. I am the second skinniest person in the bar (not including wait staff). All of the women are hard core beer drinkers who crush cans with an open fist after they finish drinking them. All of the women are over 200 lbs. Most over 3oo.

We order one giant pitcher of beer between us. It cost only 6 dollars. I tell little brother that I used to buy the same size beer for just $2.50 at Rowdy's. (Rowdy's is the best god damn bar ever. One day I will write about Rowdy's.)

The cute waitress stops by our table every three seconds. I think she is relieved to take our order. We look like the only "normal" people in the bar. I am sure we are the only men in this bar who have never been shot at. Never spent "hard time" time in prison. We look soft. But we don't buy beer from the pretty waitress. Little brother pours a glass from our pitcher. He decides he wants his first drink because, "he can't handle this atmosphere."

I go to the bathroom again. The best thing about Groggies is the saloon styled doors that lead to the stall of the men's room. I remember not making it to the stall after getting poisoned with tabasco in a "birthday drink surprise" from my favorite bartender.

I walk of out the men's room. There she is. I upset her the last time I saw her when I pretended not to know her by mouthing over and over to my friend that she didn't know me. This time I make eye contact with her and give her the Hey, I do know you,'s been a while how are you....?

She looks happy to see me. I ask her if she still works here and she says yeah. But then she adds that she is leaving in a month or so. She says she is about to finish her federal training. I ask her what she means by that and she answers that she is becoming a border agent for customs or the secret service or something like that. I am not exactly sure. I was a little drunk.

"So, are you doing this just so you can arrest mexicans? Because their are way too many mexicans." She laughs. "Yes, I guess that is why."

"I've got a few mexicans you can arrest right now." I point over at my two Mexican friends seated at our table. "You should check them out, I bet they are here... illegally." She laughs again. "That was funny." She said, like she was remembering why she liked talking to me. Because I am entertaining as hell is why, bitch.

I don't want to stay too long. She mentions her work schedule and I promise to come see her before she leaves. I tell her she should take me with her when the "feds" send to her to some god forsaken border town. She says she thinks that is a good idea. I wasn't so sure she meant it.

She introduces me to her "best friend." He is like 6 foot 5 and he grips my hand like a vice, like he actually needs to prove to me that he could kick my ass. I peer up at him by bending backwards as far as I can manage. "Nice to meet you!" I shout at him like some kind of bad "how is the air up there?" joke. I do that because I want him to understand that I know he is a freak. That normal people are not this tall.

He shakes my hand. His large hand engulfs mine and he smiles down at me, "nice to meet ya" he says like what he really means is "wow you have small hands dude." I pretend not to notice how hard he is squeezing. I turn around and notice she is gone. Oh, well. That chick is a fucking cock tease and we all know that. Even giraffe boy knows it. My look back at him conveys the message that when it comes to cock teases like her-he is no better off than me. He accepts my claim. My challenge.

I don't say good-bye to her. I just leave. We all head off to Mesa. RTO Sullivan's.

At Sullivan's the bouncer was black and I guess that is why he had such a good attitude when compared to the Maloney's guys. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there is a fifty fifty chance we will have a black guy as president and when we do he will round up all the white guys and throw in concentration camps. Personally I applaud the move and it about time you white folk got what was coming to you. 200,ooo dead Filipinos mean nothing to you, so 180 million white folk shipped back to Ireland or where ever you are all from is good news to me. I could tell the bouncer got that about me as he casually undertook a glance at my i.d.

Sullivan's has hot waitstaff and even though the pretty blond with spiral hair was 30 she was a good thirty if you know what I mean. She had not let all the drinking she did leave her dehydrated and empty. She was flirty without coming on to us. Of course X- assumed she wanted him and maybe she did as little brother discovered she was totally pregnant once the lights came on and last call was announced. Our bartender told us all about the history of Mesa and RTo Sullivan and how it was named something else before it was named RTO which would have been interesting to me if she said it in the nude while lactating but barely kept my attention even when she was talking to me directly and staring into my eyes which is just a woman's way of making sure you are paying attention to what she is saying and I have always resented that kind of thing.

The rest of the night consisted of my friends drinking Jager shots and yelling at each other over who among them was the bigger fuck up. I just assumed it was me because I brought that shit on myself.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Opportunity never Knocks for the Deaf

I am up late and there is nothing new about that other than the fact that one of my bosses convinced me to to work early tomorrow. I will be working in the dairy department stacking crates of milk which I assume will be great for my back. But instead of getting to bed early I went to the store and bought some mango nectar drink and I am regretting the bad breath it gave and the egg nog like consistency the drink has when it pours of the container.

Today is the 11th even though I think this entry will show being posted on the 5th. That's because I am blogging over a bunch of posts that suck even more than the ones you have been reading lately.

I would apologize but I realize only 10 people read me and they don't really care what kind of crap I give them because now I am like their only friend or I am their favorite cousin to them. They just laugh every time I bring Miley Cryus or a pregnant Ashlee Simpson, or talk to them about my crush on Kirsten Dunst. They don't mind that I recorded Marie Antoinette and watched it just because there is something about that little Kristen Dunst that I have loved ever since she was a kid playing creepy telepathic aliens in Dune, or the even creepier kid vampire in that movie with Tom Cruise.

All I know is that it is 4 am and I have to wake up at 10 so that means I won't get any sleep tonight/it wont stop raining/ and I can't stop masturbating/and posting pictures of Miley Cyrus blowing bubbles in gum which all the perverts are calling blow job photos/ even if that means I will never get a girl friend/ and I won't bother you with how nobody e-mails me/ nor do they leave cool voice mails/ and whenever I get invited somewhere it is always the weekend and all I do is work on the weekend.

I can't afford to go see my favorite band, UFO, because of the gas crisis making a trip to Santa FE New Mexico 300 dollars round trip. I am really disappointed and I am thinking of suing someone as soon as I can think of who would pay.

Is it me or does pregnancy just make Ashlee Simpson look like a girl even I could get? (Speaking of bacon) I came up with a great idea; bacon flavored deep fried ice cream.

Today I had a conversation with a customer who told me that Mattel the makers of the Barbie doll once came out with a pregnant version of the doll. I thought that was just too hot. Supposedly one could just snap off and on the belly and she could be preggo or not. That customer pointed out that it was ok since the doll came with a wedding ring. Another customer thought it was sad that the baby did not come of through the Vadge. I suggested that would be a hell of an idea to prevent teen pregnancy because most 13 year olds have no idea were babies come from so they don't care about condoms which I guess is the best news some of you have heard all day.