All Star Molestation, Baby

I probably got off LI at just about the right time. Saturday night was a mess. I was getting bored so I had John drop me off at the All Star Cafe, essentially the shitiest bar on the face of the earth. I thought it'd be fun for a little while, though. It was fine for the first ten minutes and I was about to drop some money on Quick Draw. But...then Nikki showed up and apparently when you're the first girl in a bar with a dozen guys in it, things get ugly. The owner of the bar started talking to us, he was clearly tanked, and he started asking these ridiculously filthy questions, mainly to Nikki. At first I was thinking, alright, he's just joking around, whatever, he'll go away. Yeah, not so much. He kept coming back and began to grab Nikki's hand and try to put it on my no-no area. The fucking owner of the bar. Weirdest experience of my life. We quickly decided the All Star Cafe wasn't a great place to hang out and we eventually ended up at Lilly's, where I obviously drank too much. The 4 am trip to the Oconee was another disaster. I dropped $15 on the Big Texan and then picked up a handful of cole slaw and threw it in Sean's face, for no reason. If he had punched me in the face at that point, it would have been totally acceptable. He didn't though, so that was nice of him.
The return to work yesterday was an absolutely miserable experience. Coming off a 10 day vacation back into hell was like slowly burning to death. Greg immediately threw me two stories, one on a fuckin windmill, another on a garden. Awww yeah, I'd rather write a story on genital warts.

The new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is really a terrible, creepy movie. Depp looks just like Michael Jackson, ready to molest the kids at any second. Too much singing, not enough full frontal nudity.
Not looking forward to the winter. Cold weather rapes my soul. I need to move further south.
This Saturday should be a great time with a home playoff game for the Spiders and a 6 pm kickoff that will still allow me to sleep until 3 pm and drink cheap liquor.
I need to unpack my suitcase. My room smells like a mix of man sweat and candy corn.

Stick it in my Blog

So, surprisingly, I did not die on the flight to Orlando. It was still the longest two hours of my life and my vagina was a little sore when it was all over. The time in Orlando has already morphed into mostly a drunken blur, but some of the highlights included Sean and I urinating in the parking garage every night, Sean and I showering together (with bathing suits on, we're not gay), throwing various objects off the 19th story balcony, drinking beach buckets full of liquor, Bobby beating the shit out of me on the tennis court. Basically, Nikki had to go to a few conferences each day and while she was gone, the three of us consumed alcohol. The weather was barely over 70 the entire trip, but still overall, it was a great time.
Got to LI Tuesday night and did the quarter bowling thing and we were on a lane next to the fattest group of girls I've ever seen in my life. I'm not even joking, they were absolutely enormous. Is that mean? Sorry.
Wednesday night was a disaster/fantastic. After hitting up the Half Penny, we attempted to go to Nutty, but the line was a mile long and my testicles were frozen to my leg (we also later found out the cover was $15, which I clearly would have paid at the time and then killed myself the next morning). We ended up a Lillys and things were going well until the blood. Sean went into the bathroom right in the mist of a fight and apparently, the bouncer thought he was involved. So Sean gets grabbed by the neck and thrown out the back door and that was the end of that adventure. We attempted to get into Hutley's across the street, but at that point, Sean's lifeless body was slumped over Adam's shoulder. For some reason, we got rejected at the door.
It's been refreshing to be home for a few days, but it hasn't taken long for me to realize it's not where I want to be, and it could very well have to be if I don't get moving soon on finding a better job. Eh, I'll start looking in 2006.
I was reading in the Collegian the other day about the guy, Mason (see photo above), I graduated with who led the group that helped to legalize possession of pot in Denver. It's pretty unbelievable stuff. Mainly because you would never think a pothead would have the ambitions and motivation to go out and change the law. Mason should get front billing on the UR homepage for his great work, instead of that douchebag Scott Erwin. Rhodes scholar, blah blah blah, he's still a terrible human being. Mason is my new hero.
I have some great photos from this week, including some superhot shower shots, but I have to get back to rva to put them on my comp. So don't get photo blueballs, they are coming.

No time to think of a title

"Have a Mai Tai, Bahama Mama, Pina Colada, Margarita or whatever they're serving in Florida for me (not on me, for me).On second thought, try them all.Greg Your old geezer editor"

Just got that e-mail two hours before I takeoff for Orlando...God, even when he tries to be nice, I really hate him.

Stayed tuned for more exciting and profane blog entries next week...

Rock out with your Blog out

John is really spending a lot of time on his blog these days, so I feel the need to keep up. I can't be losing readers to him. He doesn't know how to spell anything correctly and I'm pretty sure his blog has AIDS. Whatever, the competition just fuels my desire to make this the best blog in the world.
On the left is Sam attempting to penetrate a female sand chick he molded in the sand during Beach Week.
I'm heading to Orlando on Friday with Bobby, Nikki and Sean and then I'll be home in NY for Thanksgiving so sadly, my blog is also going on vacation. For those who suffer from traumatic blog withdrawal, I'll send you a postcard or something.
I'm really not a big fan of flying, which probably has something to do with me always googling things like "worst plane crashes" and "planes scary dangerous death". So if I do die this weekend, and in my head, there's about an 83 % chance that I will, I'll miss you all, oh, and please have the medics extract man seed from my body and implant it in Mandy Moore or Dakota Fanning.

Ah, the good ole days of $.25 bowling where we'd pound 40s and Sparks until eventually Rob and Sean starting making out and rolling around the floor. It was all fun, but then there was that one night, where Rob drank four Sparks in a half hour, took off his pants in front of some high school girls and started running down the lane. The worst part was we got kicked out by Jeff's dad, who was clearly just a smuck because he had a gimpy leg and hadn't gotten laid since 1980.
We're getting new computers at work. Hopefully they will run a lot faster so I can play poker all day instead of banging my head against the wall as it takes two hours for an e-mail to open. We also should have two interns come January, which means even less work for me, and really, it's almost impossible for me to work less than I do now. So, I might not quit my job and watch movies all day after Thanksgiving as I had planned.
Blog out, bitch.

Giant Rubber Balls

So we're playing tennis tonight and a court opens up next to us that's in better condition so we grab our stuff and move over. Suddenly, a herd of about a dozen black people show up at the gate and ask up to move back over so they can use the court. Alright, sure, no problem. They all run onto the court, not one them with a tennis racquet. Just five giant rubber balls. That's right, these people thought it'd be a good idea to play dodgeball on a tennis court. The rubber balls rolled onto our court a couple times and then some chick was standing on our court while we were in the middle of a point. I was about to start breaking some legs, but then I decided I didn't want to die tonight. Eventually, we just moved to another court and I continued to beat John's ass. He's OK at tennis, but he's pretty terrible at life.
If the Eagles win this game, I'll be back ahead in the H-P football crystal ball thing. It's pretty sad that I actually care about this shit, but really, it's the one thing that keeps me going each day. Without being amazing at picking football games, my life would be pretty worthless.
Cooper has gotten plenty of heat at UR recently for saying something to the effect that all the school was doing was turning "mush into mush," pretty much saying there's a lot of dumb fucks at UR. I've obviously torn into the guy before, but Cooper has got his head on straight here. Truth is you've got parents sending their spoiled rich white kids off to UR thinking they are perfect angels,when in reality, there are plenty of bad apples on campus who really believe they have a license to do whatever the hell they want. My brother was telling me about this rash of vandalism on the new quad next to the dining hall, with kids pretty much breaking everything they can get their hands on. Sure, Cooper is a big douche and probably should be waiting tables at Applebees, but he said exactly what needed to be said.
Oh, right, that photo up top is me sucking on Gary's penis. Don't be alarmed, though. That was during Pig Roast two years ago, and I'm much much more mature now. Wow, can't believe I ever acted like that. Then again, this is my Dad....

Blog Bloggy Blog Blog

Damn, this blog just got a whole lot better. I'm going to add pictures all over the place for no reason. On top are my roommates being complete homosexuals. Actually, it's mainly just John, who likes to get trashed and cuddle up next to dudes. On bottom is Preston trying to make out with a dog.
It's been warm the past few days so I've been playing a lot of tennis. Once it gets really cold, though, I'm not going to leave the apartment for any reason. It'll be way too dangerous with the ice on the sidewalks and crazy people with shovels roaming the streets. Hibernation will be good for my soul, I think.
We hadn't gotten a gas/water bill since we moved into the apt in July, figuring either the city was incompetent or the landlord was paying it. It came yesterday. $519...NICE. $100 of that was for "wastewater treatment" so we've instituted the "Don't Flush, Ever" policy, at least until our bill isn't for more than my weekly paycheck.
On Tuesday, I have to go to the YMCA and interview a bunch of people for another bullshit story my editor has got me on. Basically, three people go there everyday and work out, mainly trying to lose weight. Woopdeefuckindo. Everyone couple of months, I write something I'm really proud of and could actually send in as clips for future jobs. Otherwise, it's all a complete waste of time and I'm usually embarrassed to have my byline on such crap.
We've got a intern at the H-P now. The girl is pretty cute and I assumed she was a student at Randolph-Macon. Yeah, turns out she's a junior in high school. 16, born in 1989. 19 fuckin 89. No one born in 1989 should be that well developed. I don't look at the intern anymore.
I made a couple calls to an online casino in England last week from work. I doubt anyone looks at the phone bill over there, but if they do, I figure it'll be a cool way to get fired.
Oh, John made his own blog now, just to be a giant douche. Here's the link: http://gobirds.blogspot.com/ It really sucks.

Tim Kaine is the Man

Reached a new level of futility this week. One story in the paper. How they justify paying me for an entire week for a story that took me an hour to write is beyond me, but I guess that's not really my problem. Election Night was fun. Spent a good $15 on alcohol. Everyone was crying at the Republican thing when they realized Kilgore was going to lose. It was one of the most depressing sights I've ever witnessed. I obviously wanted him to lose, but fuck, when he came on stage to give his concession speech, you just had to feel bad for him. Sure, he ran an incredibly negative campaign, but I guarantee he's a decent man. Anyway, I spent the end of the night watching Kaine give his victory speech. He'll be a decent governor, but he just doesn't fire up the crowds like Warner. In politics, it doesnt matter what you say, you just have to say it with some firepower and Kaine just makes me want to take a nap. Oh, Kaine's son's name is Woody. Really, poor kid.

Getting Tanked at Homecoming

Homecoming is healthy mix of people you want to see and people you want to throw through a window. The young grad social thing at Europa last night felt like some sort of speed dating session. You've got four hours to catch up with all these clowns you haven't seen in year. Oh, and lets throw in a ridiculous amount of alcohol. We got there early to beat the rush and a high school reunion was letting out in the basement, which by the way, was entirely too small to handle a homecoming event. Anyway, some old guy, and I'm not joking here, starts feeling up me and Preston. He did have nice smooth hands, but really, what the hell is that? He eventually wandered off and I think I saw him and Preston sneak into the bathroom for some heavy petting action later in the night.
We actually went to the UR football game and managed to get in using our old spidercards. Where do they get the balls trying to charge alums $20 for a game during homecoming? I'll be paying off loans to UR until 2019. After that, alright, I'll cough up a few bucks for a football game. Hell, I may even donate to the annual fund so I can help the endowment grow to $58,495,857,485,953. But until the day comes, leave me alone, bitches.
There was a well-written article in the Collegian this week about UR's massive tuition squeezing out kids from middle-class families. Basically, point is the only ones who can afford to attend anymore are the rich who can afford to pony up 40g's in cash each year and the poor, who are subsidized by the rich with hefty aid packages. The administration can spin the numbers any way it wants, but it's the truth, and it's a sad situation.
I got confirmation on what I had thought all along as to why I didn't get the richmond.com job this summer. Mike Ward, who essentially wrote the same Collegian garbage that I did a few years earlier and now works at richmond.com, said the guy they hired for the position was the editor's old buddy. I guess that's just the way the real world turns and really, the guy they hired is a decent writer, but I have no doubt in my mind that I could've done a better job. My writing style would thrive at a publication with the type of creative freedom richmond.com affords.
(A paragraph has been deleted from this space due to incriminating details about John's life.)

Pet the Monkey

I've been mentioned in a letter to the editor in each of the last three editions of the H-P. A little background: there's a proposal to build a huge subdivision in town that most residents are strongly against. At a town council public hearing last month, 13 people spoke out against it and one person for it. In my story, I referred to the one person for the proposal as the "outcast of the night." This got the said person quite angry. His letter pretty much said he had been an educator in town for 30 years and he was soo offended that I had labeled him as an outcast. Now maybe I shouldn't of used the word (I still think it was OK in the context), but it didn't end there. Last week someone wrote in about how I have a lot to learn as I only talk to a few people on the town council and once again, took offense to the outcast comment. And then this week, another guy kind of came to my defense I guess. He said you shouldn't kick someone when they're down and he actually said that my "very wise editor would take me under his wing" and teach me a few things. That had to be one of the funniest things I've ever read. My editor is a 600 pound complete waste of life. He literally doesn't know how to spell simple words and he sent me out on a story this week to write about a car salesman. Someone had sent an email saying this saleman had worked in Richmond for a while and now he was "coming home" to work in Ashland. Easily one of the worst story ideas imaginable. Nobody gives a shit about some sleazy car douche who happens to work in the town he grew up in. There are millions of people who work where they grew up.
I did do the car story, although it was pretty half-assed. I got into the guy's office and said, I dont have any questions, just tell me an interesting story. Nice guy, but really, not newsworthy. On that note, I've decided I'm leaving Richmond at the end of my lease in July unless one two things happen: I find a much better job or I meet some hot poon.
I need to do something with my life before I have real responsibilities. I had signed up to volunteer with the Red Cross in the hurricane areas, but they've never gotten back to me. I'd still go if they called, but with all the beaucratic bullshit, I'm not expecting it.
Homecoming is this weekend and since the football team is actually decent, I may try to sneak into the game with my chewed up spidercard. Even though I feel as though I've aged 15 years since graduation, some people I meet at work still think I'm in high school. And yeah, I do hate those people.
I'm not doing very well with this blog. I've been spending way too much time at online casinos. I've made a ridiculous amount of money just playing with first deposit bonuses and then cashing out, but it's really a tedious task playing thousands of $2 blackjack hands a day.
Alright, I'm bored with this.