Is that a BLOG in your pocket?

My brother, Danny, was feeling a bit left out of my blog and asked for a photo display. This was the best I could do. I still can't believe you guys wore those shirts to the party. Everyone was so offended.
What's the deal with fantasy baseball? Sure, I understand how it might be fun to have a make believe baseball team where you get to be the manager and be really cool and all, but it all seems like a waste of time to me. And that's saying a lot coming from someone who spends more time on the couch than a crippled guy with no legs. I had a team a few years ago, and I followed it for about week, but then I realized I really didn't care if Derek Jeter hit two home runs or beat off six times during a game. Maybe I'm just bitter because I'm not part of the elite social network that is fantasy baseball, or maybe I just prefer to be a heterosexual.
I'm really making a concerted effort now to cut back on the boring bullshit that is normally in this blog, namely anything I did over the weekend. I will still report on anything outlandish or any new homosexual stalkers, but otherwise, just assume I did this: Got drunk, played poker, played with myself, watched 40 movies.
I did get a huge break in a story I've been working today about a judge who gives out soft sentences to juveniles and lets child rapists out on bond. Basically, when it publishes sometime next month I will be the featured guest on Bill O'Reilly. I'm only half-kidding. This judge is going to get nailed. Hard.
On that note, I'm sick of this Duke lacrosse rape stripper thing that's been all over the news. Lots of people get raped everyday in this country, why should I care anymore about this one? Yeah, it's a terrible thing, but do I need to have it drilled into my head all the time. Because a bunch of rich white kids were involved? How do people sit there and watch this stuff on tv all day? Natalie Halloway? That slut has been dead for five years now. I will never be on tv because I don't look like Anderson Cooper, God he's gorgeous, but television news is everything that is wrong in the world.
And why are there all these stories about high gas prices and how people are now riding their bike 30 miles to work? Please. So what, it costs an extra $10 a week to fill up your tank? You know what, if that extra $10 means you need to ride your bike down I-95, sell your fuckin bike and buy a sandwich, you poor bastard. Unless gas is $15 a gallon, no one is cutting back, no one is buying a hyrbrid, Thanks!, stop with the drama. When I'm done pumping gas, I spray the nozzle on the ground for a few seconds, it's feeeels so good.
How do you know when a cactus is dead? My mom gave me one a few years ago because she thought I liked them, when in fact, I don't, mainly because I don't understand them. Is it a plant? A weapon? A sex toy? The only time we ever talk about the cactus is when either John or I make a stupid comment about shoving the thing up someone's ass. Oh right, when is it dead? I usually remember to water it about once every six months and one time all the dirt fell out during a car ride. Is it supposed to grow? Cause it's not. It just sits there, all high and mighty, being all boring. I mean, what the fuck, cactus, entertain me, play with my balls, do something. Why do people like the damn things? They don't smell nice, they look like, well you know what they look like. I don't see the appeal, but yet I've had this cactus for three years now. I can't bring myself to throw the thing out. I think I somehow believe I can nurture it back to life so it will grow into a big strong man cactus and stop acting like a pussy. I put it outside now, so that should help. Now I just have to stop pouring beer on it.
I will leave you with this, and consider it sort of a public service announcement, here's a short run down of recent movies I've watched. See these: Jarhead, Chumscrubber, Proof, King Kong, History of Violence, In Good Company, Bully Don't See: Good Night and Good Luck, Fun With Dick and Jane, Broken Flowers, Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo, Aviator, Kicking and Screaming. Also, Six Feet Under is the best show in the history of television. I watched the series finale three times. God, death gets me so hot.
I hope tonight's the night Jack Bauer finally unleashes the massive dump he's been holding in for the past five years. On Audrey's head. That chick is beat.

Let's get naked and shag somebody

Let's give the Mets some love before they find a way to finish the season 70-90, with nine guys on the DL and a couple others in jail. Who the hell is Xavier Nady? He's my new hero, that's who he is.
The weekend started out innocent enough and you know immediately when I say innocent, I'm talking about everyone's favorite Christian, Mike Clements. Hooked up with Mike (not that way, perv) and his law school buddies at the bowling alley Friday night. We bought some fun pack or something that was supposed to be for two hours of bowling, but apparently the place is run by monkeys and our lanes didnt shut off until around 1 am, long after Mike's finger started bleeding and I had downed about a gallon of Pepsi. If I wasn't going to be drunk on a Friday night, I sure as hell was going to get as fucked up on caffiene as possible. Not surprisingly, caffiene is for pussies and it didn't do much besides make me really angry whenever I bowled poorly. Was fun, though. All the bowling reminded me of when I used to be in summer leagues where they had free bowling for members. My mom would drop me off on a Friday and pick me up Sunday night. I'd have open blisters all over my thumb and I would try to cover them with that nasty fake skin stuff. Ahh, it was glorious.
The sober, clean fun weekend didn't last for long. Yeah. Went to Big Daddy's, a new downtown dance club, on Saturday and that's right, when there's dance, Ryan enters a new realm of alcoholism. I brought my trusty flask (actually john's party poker flask) there and smuggled it into the bathroom to keep refilling my $2 glass of coke with bacardi. There was a guy in the bathroom, you know one of those dudes who wipes your ass for you and then flashes a big smile and expects you to tip them. Really freaked me out. We're in fuckin downtown Richmond, one of the most dangerous cities in the country, and there's a guy all dressed up in the bathroom of this place pretending we're at a 5-star Hilton. When I go downtown, I'm not going there to be pampered by some dude anxiously waiting for me to put my schlong away so he can powder my balls. I go downtown, I want things dirty. I want blood and bodily fluids to be flying everywhere. I want to wake up in the morning and think "fuck, that was a terrible idea." Anything less is unsatisfactory.
Lauren's Easter Brunch yesterday was pretty sweet. Sadly, it took a whole lot of effort for me to wake up for its 1 pm start, but the food was amazing and everyone told dead animal jokes. Superb. Headed to the Easter parade on Monument, which really was a lot more like a giant herd of people more than anything resembling a parade. They did have a small petting zoo in this cage for children. I went in there. Didn't realize at the time that it was a bit creepy, but apparently everyone else turned around and saw that I had wondered into the cage. I was not, however, contrary to some rumors swirling around, petting any of the children. Parade turned out to be a lot of walking and really my body doesn't do well with distances further than 15 ft. Jeff and I eventually went back to his place to add some flavor to the parade. That worked, well, but then I needed Abby to walk me home so I wouldn't fall asleep in a trash can.
I'm still doing a lot of research on Thailand and some of stuff is a bit scary, with the cops being all corrupt, a ton of guys over there for whores and increasing violence against westerners in recent years. But really, it bothers me a little, but it's also what makes it so exciting. I hate routine. I fucking hate it. And from what I can tell, my life would be far from routine in Bangkok. Now I could very easily change course this summer and decide to go up to Canada and help club baby seals, but the more I learn about Thailand, the more I'm intrigued and want to get over there. Actually, I think what scares me the most isn't what I might face over there, it's how I would adjust when I got back home. I'm going there to jolt my body out of any type of apathy and general non-chalance towards life and once I have that kind of constant stimulation, how in the world I am going to come back home and return to working some bullshit job? I guess that's just something I'll need to deal with down the road. Plus there's drugs to cure everything.
This girl I knew I college wrote an article in the Collegian last week that basically said the new opinion editor was great and he was a welcome change after a string of similar editors. She even mentioned the carpet-muncher incident, which for anyone who doesn't know, occured when I referred to the girls in a feminist-type group as carpet munchers. A whole big fury erupted, with a hate speech forum being put on and all that fun stuff. Anyway, the article surprised me, namely because this new guy isn't really funny. Like, at all. I know my humor is crude and often just profane, but this guy is as boring as a tree stump. He took a cheap shot at Pierson, who was the last opinion editor, in a column a couple weeks ago. I emailed Pierson the other day and told him I hoped the new guy had gotten his required ass-beating. His response, "i honestly want to snuff this kid. if i see him on a weekend when imdrunk, hes done." Thank you, Drew, for cleaning up the trash.
Big few weekends coming up. Slack may be coming in, along with our semi-roommates Preston and Bender, this weekend. Next weekend, the crew from EI will be in town, where things are guaranteed to turn ugly, especially if there's a camera and Sean's penis around. Then it's off to London, where I plan on flying back home in 'cuffs.
$5 to the first person who can fill in the blanks... _ _ _ _ _.

Vaginal Rejuvenations

You know what's terrible? When you go to get a haircut and get the fattest chick in there. As she's cutting your hair, her gimoungous knockers are brushing against your arm, your back, your balls. It's always so awkward and strangely sexual, not in a good way. I'm generally a fan of girls rubbing their boobs on me, but when it happens at the hair cuttery, I generally have nightmares for a few weeks. Really, though, getting a haircut from anyone, fat, short, dumb, is an erotic experience. They pretty much face-rape you. So yeah, I did that today.
I wish I hadn't broke my blog. I managed to get rid of that annoying white box on top of the page, but in the process, it seems I fucked up everything else, namely, the gay sidebar has fallen to the bottom. For some reason, I suspect that will never be fixed.
Preston was down this weekend, which I probably don't need to say anymore, since that's usually guaranteed unless he has some incestuous obligations with his cousin. We managed to get down to Richbrau when a med school chick came by to pick up Rob. We had no problem being those drunk assholes in the backseat. As per usual, I dropped $30 there, which included a $3 cover. Hey Richbrau, if you're going to charge a cover, how about we make sure the place isn't full of penises. I felt like I was at a gay stripclub out on the dance floor, luckily I had my trusty butt plug in place. Rob also scolded me at one point, when I making obscene gestures near med school people, who apparently don't appreciate infantile humor. Ordered Chanellos at 3 am. We considered walking there since it's about 6 bucks more for a pizza when it's delivered, but after much deliberation, we decided we wanted to live another day.
Went downtown again last night, this time to Sine with Clements and a couple UR girls. With my wallet just about empty, I had the ingenious idea of bringing a flask into the bar. Bought three glasses of Coke for a buck each and then added the medicine underneath the table. It was a bit shady, but I'm pretty sure I will be doing it again next weekend.
Things have settled down at work, there were no fights last week, which is progress. And we actually got hi speed internet in the office, don't know how the hell that happened, but I'll take it. On second thought, there was one minor fight, but I was too tired to try to win it. I wrote a story on how these morons at a high school resodded the baseball field a week before the season was going to start and now there won't be any home games this year. It was a rare instance where I put some effort into a story and I was quite satisfied with the finished product. But when I came in on Thursday morning, the best quote in the story, a kid on the baseball team saying "it kind of sucks to be a senior and not have any home games" had been changed to the oh so pussy-like, "a senior said it was unfortunate to not have home games." Yeah, because that doesn't change the meaning at all. Apparently the sports editor, who is usually a cool guy, told Greg that using the word sucks might get the kid in trouble. But hey, you know what, it's my job to report the news, not to worry about the consequences for some 18 year old whose parents might spank him.
My muffler broke and now it just hangs there, with the tailpipe sticking out the side of my car. It's not really problem until I go over a hill or something and the bastard drags alone the ground and makes me people in the area turn around and cringe. I've tried taking the thing off myself, but I'm as good with cars as I am with acting in a socially acceptable manner. I might just wait for the muffler to fall off on its own, that seems inevitable at this point. I just feel bad for the guy driving behind me on I-95 when that thing comes flying off my car. Let's all pray for no injuries. At least not severe ones.
I finally booked this trip to London next month with my family. I'm paying for the whole thing at this point and hopefully my parents will pay me back at some point. I don't really mind, though. I have some cash to burn, plus this will give me more favorite son points to add to my already hefty lead in that category. Sorry, John.
Blockbuster is really breakin my balls. I was supposed to receive Brokeback on Wednesday. I had to postpone the big gay man party and that's not cool.
This is boring. I quit.

Grey's Anatomy is the gayest show in the history of TV

Hold the presses. I did not get drunk this weekend. I should probably just end this entry here, since it seems all I write about is getting trashed and doing stupid shit. So yeah, none of that happened this weekend. Not really by choice, more just I have no friends and Richmond is lame. I was well on my way to drunkenness at a med school party last night, but we got home and John didn't want to go out. Surprise. And the girls were at Mulligans, which is close enough that I would walk to if I had drank 10 beers, but I was closer to 5 deep at the time.
These med school parties are fun, mainly because they always have a lot of beer, but damn, every person at this party had run the Monument 10K race that morning. They were all healthy and in shape and it made me sick. I ran a half mile the other day and almost collapsed on the sidewalk to curl up into a little ball. I did make it an entire two sets on the tennis court today, although I'm pretty sure I had a few minor heart attacks during the second set.
I'm glad I still have 600 photos of drunken dan to post on here, since I'm obviously never using my camera again.
I put my cell phone through the washing machine on Friday. That was fuckin splendid. I was all happy, with it being the weekend and all, plus I had just taken a handful of E, so when I opened the washing machine and saw my phone sitting on the bottom, it was the most painful moment of my life. I poured rubbing alcohol all over that bitch because some schmuck on some web site said that worked. Clearly it didn't. It just made me dizzy.
I got yelled at by my editor again on Thursday, apparently I'm costing the company too much money or something. My inflated $11 an hour salary is really cutting into company profits. He questioned the number of hours I worked and said something like "How could you have worked this much? You were fooling around on the Internet the other night and reading a magazine." Now yeah, that is entirely accurate. Of course I replied with the worst possible comeback, "Come on, lets be honest here, in any given week, I'm really only doing 15 hours of real work either writing or researching for a story." I think that kind of caught him off guard and he stuttered something about how I should be a lot more productive. He's such a hypocrite, though. A while ago, I came into his office and said I felt bad that I had only written one story for the week and he said "Oh, it doesn't matter how much you write as long as we have a paper each week." He doesn't remember saying that because he is old and retarded, but still, I guess things have changed and maybe I'll need to pretend to be working more during my last three months at the hellhole. Even after all the drama, I still managed to convince him that I was "owed" Friday off, so I win at life. I'd prefer not to get fired because I don't feel like explaining that to a future employer, but at the same time, it could very well happen and if it does, I will pick up my computer, throw it through the window and walk away in a blaze of glory.
I got into a fight with a high school principal on Tuesday. Basically, a softball coach had been nailing one of the girls on the team, the parents reported it and he's charged with a felony. I knew it was a girl on the team because the morons at juvenile court didn't blackout the girl's name enough on the warrant they gave me. So the principal starts saying how the incident has nothing to do with the school and that the girl was on the coach's travel team or something. I was like, how can you say that, I know for a fact the girl is on the school team and it's a coach and a player at THIS school, how is that not associated with the school? He continued spewing bs for a while, before I gave up. I don't know how to handle myself in those kinds of situations. I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to fight with sources, but at the same time, I get angered pretty quickly when I know I'm being played. I also get angry when people say it's gross that I only change my underwear once a week. That's totally normal in some cultures.
Alright, I'm going to attempt to sit through three hours of King Kong now. Oh, and Brokeback Mountain comes out on dvd this week. Big hot gay man party at my place on Friday. Be there. Or be straight.