Pig Roast #6- 6 times the gayness

First up, let's thank Dan for his recent role as a guest blogger. I give him a B+ for the effort. The lies about me engaging in illegal activity, though, namely the man meat, knocked him down just a notch.
Yeah, can't go wrong with a photo of my dad molesting himself. Although, I will give him this one was taking at 2:30 am on New Years Day last year, so he might not have known he was being gross since he had just drank a gallon of beer and tried to feel up my friends.
Preston showed up on Thursday night and it was cheap pitcher night at Curbside. So we drank those, John made us come home at 11 so he could put on his vaginal cream, but Preston and I "found" a dozen more beers in my refrigerator and we indulged a bit more while watching some classic madness.
I actually went to work on Friday and it was brutal. I went to a high school reunion for the Class of Fuckin 1944. These people were older than Rob Becker and that's pretty damn old. I'm surprised they didn't have medical staff at the reunion, they all looked like should have long ago been in for their dirt nap. But anyway, I wanted to kill myself the entire time. They went around the room talking about they worked 20 years ago and then their wife/husband died and they have 70 diseases and blah fucking kill me now. I have no idea how I'm going to make a story out of that garbage, my notes look like I sat down and interviewed a bunch of drunken retards.
Took it easy on Friday night and surfed the net for some hot lesbian porn. Am I joking? Maybe. If I had gone out, there would have been no chance of me waking up at 9 am on Saturday, which I did manage to do. It hurt and I felt sick. Then I took some shots. Things got better from there, then worse, then better for a little while more, and then it was all over. That about sums up the day. For those not associated with UR, Saturday was Pig Roast, the hands down best day of the year on campus. It's a very simple concept really: You drink all day. All of the fraternities on campus are open house and they have food and whores and all that good stuff. I was thinking of taking photos, but quickly realized they would all be terrible and really, it was my 6th straight Pig Roast appearance, probably a few too many and just asking for a disaster. And it was indeed. Once Preston got here at 10 am, we began the longest day of our lives. I drank a red bull which caused a minor heart attack, but it was worth it. Once we got to campus, after we tricked Bender into coming to pick us up, we were at the apts for a while. The dean came over and talked to me for a few minutes, thank god it was early in the day. If I saw that guy at 3 pm, I may have urinated on him.
After the frats closed, I went to my brother's room, where he was passed out so I had the RA open his door. Then I won $30 playing party poker and I blew that on a line of coke later on. Now that is a lie. Anyway, John's roommate ordered a pizza, then preceded to blackout. Had to wake him up when pizza got there cause he said he'd pay cash, but once he got the pizza up to the room a half hour later, he ate a slice and then continued to be blacked out. So I took my pants off and ate the pizza. It was a good deal.
Oh, then Dan came and we went to the Ted Leo concert. I use the term "we" lightly because I don't think Preston and I were there for more than 3 mins. All the loud music was hurting my head so we went back to the apts and drank more. We got home eventually and went to curbside and drank more.
Alright, why am I even writing about this? We fuckin drank all day, alright? Fuck. We're not cool. We're old. We graduated two years ago, but we fuckin came back and drank all day? Alright? Alright.
So my editor actually kind of yelled at me the other day, which is weird, since it's usually me yelling at him for being such a moron. I got to work Thursday at 10, it's the one day I'm in before noon cause the paper publishes then and I come in to make final edits. So I asked him where a particular page was for me to look at around 10: 30 and he goes, in his fat nasally annoying voice, "Because we're supposed to have everything done at 10." I just said, alright I really don't care. I used to come in at 9 on Thursdays but then Id just sit there for an hour while he edited things on his comp with his fat fingers, which cause problems. I'll accidentally write something like "school" as "schooll" and I'll tell him to fix it. The corrected version inevitibly comes out "sghfkfdlolballsoofl" Seriously, my boss is a huge dumb child. So yeah, not really excited. Boss gets angry, I walk away, end of story.
Ah fuck, Daily Show is coming on. One of the few moments of the day I actually look forward to. That, and when I wake up in the morning with a huge throbbing toothache.

bonner loves smoking weed (and man meat). he thinks he's hardcore cause his pansy ass got up at 9am to be crunked off his ane. shit blind date what a show, christ jesus. son, you should put your wang away before you hurt someone.llove, dan ing

Do you like to do it yourself?

That right there is what I miss about college. Not the drinking, but the sheer excitement and encouragement from friends to make terrible decisions. If you pound a bottle of Evan Williams after college, people tend to not want to speak to you anymore. In college, it's just always a great idea.
I might just continue with my recent tradition of updating this thing once a week. I think I'm kidding myself to think I can write anything remotely interesting more than that.
There was this alumni/senior party thing at UR Friday night. I went by myself because I was the only one who had a ticket since I gave a few bucks to the school a few months ago for the Holter Memorial. But there were like no alums at this thing, a bunch of seniors kept referring to it as a senior social and asking me why I was there. I think I was being creepy. Anyway, to the point, I had planned on going for about 20 mins because my ticket got me two free beers. Right. I got home at 5:20 am. After the two beers, someone bought me one and then there was no turning back. Went to the Cellar with my brother and one of his buddies and we stayed there until they kicked us out basically. I also found a Westhampton Govt Association t-shirt in a closet in the commons along with some bubbles, which were actually a lot of fun for me because I'm a child. I also wore the shirt the rest of the night, which I didn't realize I was wearing when some girl told me she had the same one. I thought she was retarded until I looked down and realized I, in fact, was the retard. We went to the KA lodge after the Cellar, God, why do I write about these frequently occurring embarrassing moments in my life. Hung out in John's room afterwards where I sobered up and blew more bubbles. Oh and John's friend came in at one point and rubbed his penis on a couple of kids who were refusing to leave the room. It was kind of weird because the guy had a chick in his bed at the time, but when John called him and told him to come rub his package on a couple of dudes, he came running down the hall. Questionable.
I didn't get dressed until 9 pm yesterday, which is typical fare for a Saturday, or basically any other day I don't have to work. Hung out at Lauren's for a while, but then we watched the UR senior video, which inevitably is a depressing experience for me and then the night quickly deteriorated. Went to Richbrau. Sadly that's all I can really say about that. Woke up at 230 today with my underwear around my ankles. I was in my bed, though, which I guess can be considered an accomplishment of sorts. My life is totally regressing. I'm glad Pig Roast is next weekend so I can continue my rapid slide into horribleness.
I wrote a story last week about a former asst. superintendent who stole some dvds from a Costco last year. He resigned after the incident, but I found out he was still working for the district as a consultant. It was a pretty big deal because he admitted to the theft and school officials were clearly in damage control mode all week, school board members refused to comment on it. But what bothered me about the whole thing was my role in it. I didn't like that feeling of control over a guy's reputation who I've never spoken to. In the court records, a medical report said the guy has a history of alcoholism and had suicidal thoughts after the theft. Then I write this story about how parents think its really horrible that he's still working for the schools. I could have just as easily not reported the story at all, I only found out because of an anonymous phone call and there was little chance it would have come out otherwise. So, I guess I just question the role I'm in, why I should I, a 23-year-old bum who still lives in college-mode, be digging up dirt on this big name official who clearly has some issues to work out. It's so fuckin hypocritical, too. I've never stolen dvds from Costco, but I've done plenty that would make my parents cry if they saw it in the paper. I guess I'm just doing my job, but it was bothering me all week.
This blog sucks.
Oh, a couple of girls we met at the Cellar were talking about my Collegian stuff and one of them said her favorite column was the "love one." I know all I wrote was bullshit, but the fact that this girl had a favorite and it was something I wrote more than three years ago, that was kind of crazy. And kind of cool. So here's the "love one" (just in case anyone else thinks its funny):

Working off the rumors that I am a cynic and hate the world, I will dispel this notion by using the word “love” in every sentence of this column. This is not a joke. Everything that follows is from my heart.
I love non-alcoholic beer. I love naked men.
I love the bookstore. I love how profits go toward the endowment. I love how we need to inflate the endowment to $6 trillion instead of saving students money. I love how when I return a textbook, the cashier must check it over for nine hours as if I may have covered the pages in anthrax (it was just flour from my Friday night cooking class).
I love The Pier. I love how they put amusement park lines at The Pier. I love how that is not annoying at all. I love how they charge $4.50 for the special so I can’t afford a drink, when the only thing special is if you don’t die after eating it.
I love going to Great Clips and getting a haircut for $3. I love how I ignore that the lady tried to bite my ear and shave my legs the last time I went in there.
I love the IFC. I love how making it a hassle to go to The Row will increase drunk driving off campus. I love how we are more concerned with financial liability than human lives. Yeah, I love death.
I love John Mayer. I love how he can sing about someone’s body being a wonderland and not be bombarded with questions about his sexuality.
I love people who leave me five minute voicemails on a Saturday night challenging me to a “duel of words.” I love how this made me laugh so hard, I thought I capsized a lung.
I love Natalia Green. I love when we mud wrestle on the IM fields. If we were married, I would love how she’d slap a parking ticket on the family car even though she was the last one to use it. I would love it if she would bear my children.
Me: I love you, honey.
Natalia: I love to beat you senseless, boy.
I love waking up on a Sunday morning and finding the sink covered in bodily fluids. I love how people think the janitors report to work at 3 a.m. on the weekend.
I love washing my clothes once a month. I love how girls find this attractive.
I love downloading illegal music. I love the thrill I get when it says “file complete.”
I love being called immature for saying the word “penis” in the paper. Sometimes I would love a hug when people hurt my feelings like that . I love how my parents would make me change my name to Immature if it was legal.
I love going to the post office six times a day to stare into the empty box. I love reaching my hand all the way in and yelling, “Hey, I got a big one!”
I love how Information Services has not called me about a job. I love how there must have been more-qualified applicants to sit in front of a computer and direct people to the stapler.
I love that my roommate is binge drinking in Mexico. I love how he was asked to write a few paragraphs encouraging students to study abroad in Mexico. I love how he was told the parts about drinking and how Mexican food compares to Taco Bell would have to be edited out. I love how this is not edited: Study abroad in Mexico = Binge drinking tequila.
I love when there are naked football players roaming the halls (Seriously, this is funny although I try to keep my head up at all times). I love when they yell, “Mangina” with their manhood tucked between their legs. I love when one of them winks at me as I walk by.
I love how the freshmen class is the smartest in the history of mankind. I love how I pay them to do my homework since the junior class is almost as dumb as the senior class (jk, LOL, paying people do your homework must be a violation of some sort).
I love when my voicemail friends claimed I “didn’t have the kahunas to transfer.” I love that no matter how big my kahunas may or may not be, I would never have transferred from this school. I love this University more than Clinton loves hummers. I just love causing trouble a little bit more…

Paddling the Pink Canoe

Oh damn, almost forgot I had a blog. John seems to have deleted his entire blog recently, which is a good thing for the sake of humanity. And, yes, I'm out of photos again so it has come down to Dave Frost licking his own nipple. Actually, I'm surprised I didn't use this one earlier, it's pretty good quality and not gross at all.
So I take the train to NY on Thursday, of course train left an hour late and then we got stuck behind a freight train for a good hour near DC. Fuckin Amtrak is the biggest waste of taxpayer money I can think of. Never leaves on time, it's more expensive than flying and there aren't any naked chicks walking around offering their services. Oh, they don't have those anywhere? Rrright.
Had a great time once I finally made it home, which is clearly related to the amount of alcohol consumed. Actually, I think I spent close to $100 on booze over the weekend, which really can't be a good sign. On Saturday, we went wine tasting out in the Hamptons, which was pretty sweet, although I had planned to end up in the trunk for the ride home. It seemed to be heading towards that point after the first winery, where they gave out 13 tastes (that sounds so gay) for free and I drank a whole lot more than I was supposed to because my friends kept giving me theirs to finish. They know I have a problem. They also had free cookies there and that was quite arousing. The next place we went to ended pretty quickly, namely because the lady there was a giant whore bitch. We told her we had a group of 8 and she's like "oh, you need a reservation with groups of more than 6" which clearly led to me being a sarcastic prick and being all "oh hey, we'll just break up into groups of 4". As Bobby put it so nicely, I sounded liked a dick but I kind of had a point. But whatever, we herded out of there and ran over a couple of small children on the way out and headed to the next destination. That place was all crowded and although we did eventually get wine, I'm pretty sure I sobered up in between each shot glass sized serving. Looking back, we should have just bought a bottle of wine and pounded it instead of being cheap bastards. Overall, good time though, I'd definitely do it again when I'm home this summer, which looks more likely by the day. I've pretty much resigned myself to leaving Richmond in July and then leaving the country. To where or for what purpose? No fuckin clue, but its kind of exciting to have those kinds of possibilities out there.
Once we got back from the wineries, I put on my old man pajamas and prob could have passed out at 8 pm, but then my parents called and wanted me to come out with them to an old man filled bar with a bunch of my relatives. And since it doesn't take much to convince me to go to any sort of bar, I got re-clothed. Thankfully, after I was there a while, Sean Gil and Nikki showed up so I didn't feel like I was 50 anymore. My parents eventually drove us to another bar and when that place closed, I walked the mile and a half back home after I urinated on some lawyer's office. Oh, I stopped at 7-11 on the way back and bought some yankee doodles and devil dogs. Man, I eat too much, I'm getting so fat.
Ride back to Richmond yesterday was brutal. John's car is fucked, wheel shakes your whole body when you go over 60 so what should have been a 6 hour trip turned into a 8.5 hour trip. I'm pretty sure we came close to death a few times when the car decided to wander curiously off the road, but as John said, our fate was in God's hands at the time.
When I got home from work tonight, Dr. G and I went to Starlite for a beer. It was still like 75 outside and if there's one thing I'll miss about Richmond it's the outdoor bars on nice nights. But of course, the special was $5 pitchers and since John's a douche, he got a pint and I got a pitcher for myself. When I ordered, the waitress goes "Um, I'm going to need to bring out two glasses for the pitcher because of ABC regulations." What a cunt. Ah, so great to use that word. Cunt cunt cunt. Alright, it's late and no one is reading this garbage, except for Dan and Bender. Blog out.

Why is there an Internet clips show on VH1? Terrible.

Yeah, I'm milking these photos from Bender's party, but hey, that's all I've got. I think this is some kind of mudslide type drink spewing out of Dan's mouth, but it may very well be that he bit through his tongue and is bleeding all over the place.
Went out with both roommates Friday night, which happens once every few months, so it was a big deal for me. They wouldn't stay out till 3 am as I prefer, but I think we made it to after midnight, very impressive for them. A fight brought out in 3 monkeys right next to where we were standing, but I don't remember moving out of the way at all. I think I may have been on the ground at some point, but I didn't find any bruises the next morning, so it couldn't have been that bad.
John and I went to the UR bball game Friday and since it's spring break, we were pretty much the only people there under the age of 50. We were in the front row and some girl on the floor asked me if I wanted to do the three-point shooting contest during a timeout. And since I knew full well I wouldn't hit the rim and people would throw heavy objects at me, I let John do it. I booed him when he got out on the floor, but it didn't seem to affect his game, he made 2 of 5 shots and got a bunch of gift certificates. UR did win the game by a point and even though they'll prob get tossed in the first round of the A-10 tourney this week, I was still quite excited about the victory. I was ready to storm the court, but an old lady was eyeing me down and John herded me out of the arena pretty quickly, I think because I kept yelling profane things around little kids.
Jon Stewart was on his game at the Oscars, although I'm clearly biased since I think pretty much anything that comes out of the guy's mouth is hilarious. I was dying during that montage from old cowboy films where the guys are all shirtless and winking at each other. Whoever produces the Oscars should be shot, though. I think they screwed up both times Crash won something. First time, there's two people up on stage, first guy goes through his thing and the next one steps up the mic, but the cameras cut away immediately and it goes to commercial. Then when Crash won best picture, the stupid music started playing and drowned out the end of the speech. Then the show just ended. Absolutely terrible. Not that I can really complain, if I were producing the Oscars, I'd give Jessica Alba all of the awards. Foreign language film, best penis is a leading role, I'd give it to Jessica hard.
I'm taking the train home to LI on Thursday afternoon. One way ticket was only $50, and that's cheaper than driving and sure as hell a lot easier than attempting to get my junk car to go 400 miles without going up in flames. I'll come back to Richmond on Sunday with John, he's taking his car back down. Hopefully we'll be back in time for the new season of the Sopranos, which has been off the air for what seems like a decade. I need more violence in my life.
Damn, I've already spent 10 hours on the couch and I've got another 4 to go before I approach tiredness. I'm so ready to ditch Richmond and do something worthwhile with my life. Cause for the past 23 years, I've done little more than take up space. And drink a lot of beer. That probably counts for something, but not enough to give me any kind of fulfillment. And really, don't we all just want to be filled up by something? Alright, I don't even know what that means.

Perfect # of guys for a circle jerk? Anyone?

Let's just say Dustin took the theme of Bender's party a bit too seriously. It looks like he's about to eat a bunch of Asian children. If you see this man on the street, run. Fast.
Finally got to play some tennis today, it was nice to be out of hibernation after 4 months in my cave. I was tired after one game, but still managed to beat John since he's horrible at sports.
So there's this creepy guy with a cane that always comes to my office, mainly to talk to Greg about who the fuck knows. But recently, we found out he was backstage at a ballet show at a high school checking out the little girls. A parent asked him what he was doing there and he said he worked for the Herald-Progress. At least he didn't tell them his name was Ryan. Anyway, this perv calls me the this week and says he's on the way to the office to talk to me about a story. Get this shit, he wants me to write a story about him and how he's not running for the town council this year (he ran a couple years ago and got 24 votes, that's right, pretty much 24 people made a mistake on the ballot). I told the guy I had much more important stuff to work on besides writing a story on someone NOT running for council. Fuck, there's 7000 people in Ashland. Am I going to write 6,990 stories about people who aren't running? He babbled on for a while and I was getting pretty annoyed, got real close to asking him about his fixation with little girls, but we don't have the photographic evidence yet that shows it was really him backstage. We're just 99.6 percent sure it was this creep. End of the convo, he goes "alright i guess i understand your position, i'll be in to talk to you about a bunch of things over the next few years." first off, dick, I won't be working at that shithole past July unless I decide to throw my entire life in the gutter and second, I'd rather sodomize myself with a baseball bat than be anywhere near your sorry ass. So go ahead, you bastard, come to the office and see me, I'll even dress up like a little girl for you. Oh, and then, I'll rip your balls off and eat them.
Damn, alright, if you read all that, I hope you didn't. Got a little carried away, apologize to all my 4th grade readers over at Cunnilingus Middle School who are required to check out this blog once a week and write report about the steps they plan on taking to avoid turning out like me.
I just asked John this question and I think it's something everyone needs to think about. Four movies: Wedding Crashers, 40-year-old Virgin, Dodgeball and Old School. Rank'em funniest on down. If I knew how to put a survey on this thing, I'd do it, but since I'm retarded, post your thoughts and sexual desires through the comment feature. Here's my rankings: Old School, 40-year-old Virgin, Dodgeball, Wedding Crashers. First three, consistently funny throughout, Wedding Crashers has a solid 20 minute chunk where I was just bored. I know a lot of people disagree with that, but you guys can blow me, I'm right.
My car is about die, the transmission hard shifts into gear all the time. It's really nice cause I spent $2500 on a brand transmission just two weeks after I bought the car from some dickbag in NY. It's a really shot in the junk, but hey you know me, I try to keep a bright outlook on life. Right, if you believe that, I'll sell you some moldy bread for $50. Mechanic told me to trade the little bitch in now so I get something for it, problem is I don't want to buy a new car until I get back from wherever the fuck I'm going next year. It's just got to make it to August and then I'll push it off a bridge, but if it goes before then, I am seriously riding a bike to work. Or a camel, if I can find one.
I'd love a beer right now, but all we have is Southpaw, which is great for Beach Week, but pretty horrendous at all other places and times. Eh, I guess I could do with less beer in my life. I'll just have a nice glass of water. And by water, I mean vodka. And by vodka, I mean urine. Wow, enough.