Bender's Penis? Oh, there it is

I took about 100 pictures at the party, which means 6 of them are decent where people are sort of looking in the general direction of the camera. I'm usually not a fan of theme parties, as they require effort and can interfere with the goal getting really drunk, but the Around the World theme actually worked. Basically Bender and his roommates each turned their rooms into different countries with brightly colored drinks that looked like
radioactive material. They didn't kill anyone, although the ride back to Richmond today was absolutely brutal, I was on the verge of puking into my pillow case the entire two hours. Near the end of the party, I knocked a huge pitcher of this blue Kool Aid type drink all over the living room floor. John says I just laughed while he went and got some paper towels. If anyone one else would like to fill me in as to what happened at the party, I'd appreciate it.

Man, so glad I got a photo with Ed Bender. Although doesn't it look like he's leaning in about to makeout with me? I mean, I love you, Ed Bender, but I think we should take it slow. Let's not ruin what we have.
On that homosexual note, I tried to convince Dan to go see Brokeback Mountain with me yesterday, but he was worried he would be too turned on or something.
I might have to stop watching 24. I had a dream the other night that Jack Bauer was shooting at me. I woke up sweating, which is almost impossible to do in Dan's apartment because he keeps the thermostat on 62. Cheap bastard.
Should be an easy week at work, I might just drive around the county a few times to rack up mileage. Hoping it will warm up enough to start playing tennis. The only physical activity I engage in these days is running from my car to the apt so I don't get shot and I usually need to take a nap after that.

Sasha Cohen hates America

Alright, there it is. This photo can now never again be used to blackmail me. Was I sober? Yes. That's the only question I will answer and that's the end of that. Lets move on with our lives.
I wrote a story this week about a group of parents meeting with the school board and a bunch of people said some pretty harsh things about the schools. So I called the guy who is heading up this new group and he's all "I hope you don't write anything bad. We're trying to establish a good relationship with the board....blah blah I love to milk myself" He must of said that shit about 20 times, except for the milk part, before I finally told him that it's not my job to protect a relationship. I write what I see, you bitch. If some lady gets up and takes a huge dump on the school board, guess what, that'll be in the paper. On that same note, someone on town council said something last week at a retreat about how the county was pretty much fucking over the town. I report it, and then at the council meeting this week, she mentions how town staff had to meet with the county to do damage control. I mean, really, I'm a reporter, I like conflict, I like fights and blood and balls, and I do my damn best every week to stir up controversy. Am I always fair or objective? Not a chance, but hey, I make my own rules.
God, the Olympics are absolutely terrible. Even if there is something I'm mildly interested in, I know the fuckin results 56 hours before its on TV. There really should be some kind of federal law that prevents the results from being reported until after its on TV. I was all exciting about the womens figure skating tonight, mainly to see if anyone's vagina popped out. I didn't go to any news sites earlier so I'd be able to watch it without knowing who won, and I somehow managed to do that, although I had to close my eyes when my homepage, the great ole' msnbc.com popped up on my comp screen. What a fuckin disappointment though. Nobody wants an Asian to win. I don't get it, how do you practice all those jumps and shit for years and still manage to fall on your ass? Give me two months and I could win a damn Gold.
I went to the thyroid doc yesterday and the guy cut back my dosage in half. Thats good cause the damn medication just makes my metabolism run at normal speed which has led to a nice case of Old Man Beer Gut. The one good thing about having an overactive thyroid is it means you can eat 100 burgers a day and your metabolism tears that shit up. But, alas, I guess I need to stay on some sort of medication if I want to live past the age of 30.
Headed to DC tomorrow after maybe a half hour at work. John is driving, though, so it's likely I won't make it back alive. If that's the case, I leave my most prized possession, the MANGINA license plate, to my grandmother. She's always loved that trick.

Morning Wood...that's some hard stuff

Booyakasha! First up, thanks to everyone who responded to my desperate plea for comments. But I have to say, one comment bothered me a bit. "2049 -- Ryan announces he is gay to the surprise of absolutely nobody." Now I don't know who posted this anonymous comment, but that person should see me immediately for a spanking. Come on, I'm going to come out when I'm 67 years old? I'm pretty certain my penis will not be functioning at all by that point. Plus, no one that old is gay. Have you ever seen a couple of grandfathers walking around wearing tight pink tops and groping each other? All gays are under 40. Everyone knows that.
So yeah, I haven't posted in a week, partly because I did nothing worth speaking of and partly because I like to build up the suspense factor a bit. Ok, more of the first part. But I know you all sit there on your computers and refresh this page all day, you dirty blog vultures.
The weekend can be summed up as I drank a lot and did very little. While that situation is usually ideal, I may in fact need to check into substance abuse at some point. Went to Curbside on Thursday night, fill in the blanks, drink, poker, sleep. Preston came down for the weekend again, I think mainly because he wanted to drink all of the alcohol in our apartment and go to the Cellar and not have enough cash to pay for his meal, you asshole. I believe the Preston In the Box Photo pretty much captures the essence of the weekend. Friday night, I hung out with Preston and Lauren for a bit here, and then after they left, I apparently drank 5 more beers. And I also have apparently hit the bottom in my rapid decline into leading the most unhealthy lifestyle possible.
The UR bball game against GW on Saturday was a painful experience and I don't know if I can step foot in the Robins Center again. It's not so much that we lost, that was supposed to happen, but the GW fans overpowered the UR student section. They had all these prepared cheers and shit, it was the saddest night of my life. The retarded thing was the UR kids were chanting "Georgetown rejects" and the GW fans shouted "safety school." Really, people, anyone who took part in those chants should strip naked and sit on a cactus. UR and GW are very similar academically, in fact, I know a lot of people apply to both schools. It's fine to yell demeaning "We're smarter than you" chants to schools like Dayton and VCU (actually never yell at them because they probably have guns) but point is when UR kids chant "Georgetown rejects", they're saying a lot about their own school as well. The game itself was decent, actually had a shot to win it, only downer was that dickweed Ronald McDonald was there again. He was walking all over the stands looking for innocent children to show his McNuggets to. I guarantee that asshole will be in jail before the end of the year.
Preston, Big Pecker Rob Becker, and I actually went out late on Saturday night, during which time, I spent all of my money again, Rob drank six gallons of scotch and spilled some on himself leading to a nasty case of "Scotch Crotch". Later I played a poker tournament and stayed up until 8:30 a.m. I would be woken up a few hours later when John and Kristen began their daily "Make Loud Noises" game.
Yeah, so I'm definitely not getting a new computer at work which makes me continue to hate the people I work for. Company spent $7000 on a few new computers and upgraded software and it's actually made things harder on everyone trying to put the paper together. My co-worker Tom went off on the CEO, who makes money for sitting around all day. Actually, so do I, but nowhere near on the same pay scale. Sometimes people just snap at work and I gotta say, those are really enjoyable moments for me.
I bringing my camera to D.C. next weekend for Bender's party at which time I plan on taking enough photos to fill this blog for the next 10 years. Will there be balls on someone's head? Will Ed Bender cure cancer with his magical man seed? Can't wait to find out.
I also can't wait till tomorrow when I will go to work on a federal holiday (as least I think it's one) and not be able to contact any of the smucks I need to. Will I throw my computer or myself through a window? One of those will happen, stay tuned for the exciting results.

Valentine's Day is for Pussies

You know I'm desperate for pictures when I'm forced to post this blatant display of gayness. Actually, it was either this or Rob's mangina and even I have to draw the line somewhere. Readership would surely drop to one if that photo ever made it on here. That one reader would clearly be Rob, who would come on here just to beat it to his own mangina. Sick.
So let's just say this weekend has easily been the least productive few days of my life. I'm pretty sure I set my personal record for fatassness as I did not leave my apartment at all for a solid 48 hour period. And when I finally did manage to venture into outdoor areas today, it was for about 5 mins, so I could go pick up a pizza. I have to give myself some credit as I didn't eat the entire pizza this time, although I probably would have if John wasn't harassing me for a few slices. I need spring bad. I need to be playing tennis, aka engaging in some sort of physical activity, besides walking from the couch to the bathroom. I rarely even do that anymore. An empty Gatorade bottle works quite nicely. Although I have gotten stuck before...
Man, the vice-president shooting some dude on a hunting trip, that shit is priceless. When Dan sent me the link, it thought it was from the Onion or something. Really, who is even giving Cheney a firearm to mess around with? The guy is 940 years old and he should have been dead about 5 times now. I just hope Bush isn't whacked by some terrorist before 08, cause if Cheney ever had to take over, I'm pretty sure he'd start shooting everyone. Hell, the guy's approval rating, even among Republicans, is about as low as my sperm count.
It's taken me three years, but I've just discovered my computer's best feature. It's got fuckin Internet Checkers. I've already demolished two people and I plan on playing until about 5 am.
This is a piss poor post, but life just isn't all that exciting right now. Alright, fine, damn it, not exciting at all. What I do know is the May deadline for me to get a job at the Times-Dispatch, which is basically what it's come down to, is fast approaching so my Richmond days may be numbered. Here's my future:
06- Do something crazy, leave the country, sleep with dirty prostitutes
07- Get a job at a daily paper, become the fuckin' man
09- Go to grad school. Continue being the fuckin' man
12- Win a Pulitzer. Dabble in various hardcore drugs
13- Become a college professor. Sleep with several students, impregnate a couple
18- Get tenure. Do whatever the fuck I want.

Lastly, a plea: Post comments on this thing. I know people are bored enough to read it, so take an extra minute out of your pathetic life to write a comment. You can be anonymous or whatever. I don't care what it says, you can tell me how much you love to spread peanut butter on your nipples and try to lick it all off or how you want to bash my head in with a sledgehammer. Hell, you don't even need to write a sentence. It can look like this : jfirgh. Yeah, that'd be fine. Just give me something to work with people. OK, I love you all.

Blog saw its shadow and some boobs

I made some comment to a few of the people in the ad department yesterday that my editor weighed more than his car. Which sadly isn't too far of a stretch. The guy drives a tiny Mazda Miata. I'm surprised the car doesn't flip over a few times when he gets inside. It's like watching a 15 year old try to fit into a crib. But right after I made the comment, I realized that the three women I was talking to are all pretty huge themselves. I shouldn't even joke around though, I've seen my future and it's not pretty. I was 130 lbs when I got to college. I'm at 162 today. I think part of that comes from my thyroid medication. Back when my thyroid was allowed to run wild and produce all this juicy stuff or whatever, it sped up my metabolism. It's weird, I still feel pretty skinny but then I look at those weight charts and realize that if I gained 10 more pounds, I'd be considered overweight. So considering that, I have switched to just 6 lbs of light mayonnaise on my sandwiches and today I only got 2 jr. bacon cheeseburgers at Sheetz. Actually, last night, I had a coupon for cheddar melts at Arbys and I was seriously thinking about getting 3 of them. I ended up just getting 2 simply because I decided I would have to kill myself if I ate more than that.
A 22 year old guy was shot a couple blocks away from my apt late last Saturday night. Seems like he was just walking to his car, was robbed and shot dead. Now that shit just ain't right. I was hoping it was some drug deal gone bad or something, but when it's just a guy getting into his car, well, let's just say I walk at a brisker pace now from my car to my apt at night. Maybe I'll buy a gun to keep under my pillow. Actually, I don't think I'm strong enough to even pick up a gun. Maybe if it were made of plastic or something. I could handle a water gun.
I watched Cry Wolf last night and it wasn't nearly as bad as I had expected. I also didn't realize pretty much the whole thing was filmed at UR. I thought the campus was just in part of it. Movie wasn't scary though, maybe because I know that the only scary things that happen at UR involve running out of beer or being attacked by an anorexic slut jacked up on cocaine.
I'm bringing my car into the mechanic tomorrow for him to check on a few things. I like how the guy asks me like 40 questions on the phone about whats wrong with the car. It's like, dumbass, that's why I'm bringing the piece of shit to you. I pay you good money, you drive the damn thing around and figure it out for yourself.
I'm sorry, but Drawn Together is a fuckin hilarious show. My roommates think it's retarded, and yeah, I can see how that could be case, but I have to say there are few shows that I really laugh out loud during and Drawn Together is one of them. The only thing funnier on television is probably the Special Olympics. But that's not on every week.
I have to go grab the lube and get ready to beat it to Conan soon. See you on Sunday when I hope to report on the mating rituals of the African dragonfly. That is, if I'm not shot before then. I put it at 50/50.

John just showed me his Ball Bouquet

We were supposed to get new computers at work on Friday, but to the surprise of absolutely no one, that didn't happen. And apparently I'm not even getting a new one, just a hand me down from the editor. These people are complete morons/ cheapass bastards. I could get stuff done so much quicker if my computer didn't freeze every 2 mins and if I could access a Web site in less than the amount of time it takes to orbit the fuckin sun.
On Friday, I sat on my couch all night and drank half a bottle of wine while watching a movie that couldn't possibly be understood under the influence. And that's all that will be said about that sad episode in my life.
Last night was Lauren's party. Once again I forgot to take pictures, so just use your fuckin imagination, alright? Preston and I dominated on the pong table for a while. Preston kept wishing I was Sam, but I managed to hit a few cups and by that I mean I hit 3 cups the whole night. Eventually, I think the beer ran out and/or the people who lived there were no longer awake.
I wore John's McNabb jersey which prompted most people at the party to tell me how much they hate the Eagles. The worst thing about large social gatherings is you inevitably end up getting stuck in a terrible conversation with a terrible person who you really wish would go away. And trust me, I'm not referring to anyone who would ever read this blog, but it amazes me how some people fail to ever get the point. When you ask me 50 questions about my life and I answer with one word responses like "Yeah" or "Boobies" and I never once ask you about your job/life in any way, that generally means my interest in the conversation is about as low as my self-esteem was when the retarded amputee at Ukrops turned me down for a date.
I'm glad the Steelers won the SB simply because there's got to be 1000x more Steelers fans than Seahawks fans. Also, how fuckin gay is Shaun Alexander? When the guy talks, he sounds as if he just got off his knees in a back alley near Big Gay Boners Strip Club. I'm surprised he doesn't try to get tackled more for the off chance some guy will rub against his bulge.
Some UR girl actually wrote this in the Collegian last week, "And, while you're at it, hire more than four people to clean the UFAs -- the quality of cleaning we apartment-dwellers get is atrocious, but four people can only do so much in the course of a day."
Yeah, smart move...Perpetuate the stereotype of rich spoiled snobs attending the school even more. If I ever meet that girl, I might just have to punch her in the face. Seriously, how does this chick get the balls to complain about a cleaning service that has no business existing in the first place? College kids destroy their apartments and then the school pays for people to come in and clean up for them. If the administration cradled the collective balls of the UR student body any more, it would need to start signing adoption papers for every student.
Alright, I need to go watch Requiem For a Dream again so I can go to bed as depressed as humanly possible.

We'll miss you, Mr. President

I like how when I started this blog I said I didn't want it to turn into just a daily chronicle of my life cause that would make people commit suicide. But yeah, it has turned into just that. I think part of it is because, unlike in college, I no longer really share a common environment with people. Everyone has their own lives now, it's far from the giant college orgy where everyone did the same things and actually, all were pretty much one giant collective person. I'd still like to turn this thing into something like this http://blaggblogg.blogspot.com/, but right now, I'm kind of apathetic towards life and don't have the desire to put in that kind of effort.
Anyway, enough babble. I figured out how to play blackjack on the computer at work today. Only problem is it only runs on the computer within my editor's view. At one point, he gave me a few pages to edit and I just put them on the desk for a half hour. He kept looking over a me, probably cause I cured a few times when the dealer kept pulling out 5's on a 16. The he got up and I had to quickly minimize the windows. He printed out something while there was clearly a window in the middle of the screen labeled "blackjack" that had been minimized. I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered even if I told him I like to engage in online gambling on the clock. Hell, there could have been naked dudes rolling around in a tub of jello on the screen, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have fazed him. But, still, I like to keep a relatively low profile at work, as to best keep social interactions with the people there to the bare minimum.
God, fuckin' Tim Kaine. How do they let the guy give the Democrats response to the state of the union? Sure, he won the top office in Virginia, a Republican state, but the guy has the enthusiasm and public speaking skills of a table. Kaine is a policy wonk like Clinton was, but he just doesn't have that endearing charm that makes you want to give him a blowjob under his desk. Now I love the Kaine and I was glad as hell when he beat that queerbag Kilgore, but there was no good reason to put him on the national stage. There were all these awkward pauses in his speech that put me on the brink of tears. I rarely ever agree with the Republican propaganda machine at Fox News, but they are right when they say Democrats always find a way to fuck things up.
John will be gone all weekend with his new/old girlfriend. I don't expect to hang out with him ever again (see College 00-04). Hopefully I can convince Rob to indulge a bit and come to Lauren's party on Sat. But I think he'll probably be too afraid of having his shirt torn off again. Girls get off just from being in the same room as the guy. It's fuckin ridiculous. Alright, I'm done.