RIP My Mangina 10/05 - 5/06

Dear Virginia DMV,

I am writing to express my deep anger with a letter I received in the mail today regarding the license plates on my vehicle. According to this letter, the plate "MANGINA" which was issued to me several months ago was done so in error. I have to say I was completely shocked when I opened this letter, with new plates also enclosed.
I have been a loyal Virginia DMV customer for 6 years now. I have regularly changed my personalized plates to reflect my interest in a wide array of activities, including but not limited to, rubbing myself, a good buddy of mine cockerjohnson and a hatred for a certain president. Now these ones were all approved with no problem, how you could allow me to have a plate that says "RUBME" with the words "fight terrorism" underneath but yet you find objection with my relatively harmless mangina? Over the past few months, I've grown very close to my mangina. When I've been down and out, my mangina has always been there to say, "Hey man, check me out, I kind of look like a vagina." And every time, that would brighten up my day. How you could take away something that special from a person is just a disgrace.
I've shown my mangina to dozens of people. Some have been disgusted, especially on days when I didn't keep him nice and clean, but all in all, most people have pointed and stared and wished they could have their own manginas out on display for every other driver in the Commonwealth of Virginia.
In your letter, it states that my mangina was reviewed by a committee of "culturally diverse individuals", but unless this took place while I was sleeping, which is probably against the law, I do not believe my mangina has ever been reviewed. Bruised? Sure. Burned? Yeah, that was a crazy night. But I will not stand for your countless lies as you attempt to strip me of my closest and dearest friend.
The letter also says that no personalized plates are allowed that have a combination of characters that could reasonably seen by a person viewing the plate as "intimate body parts." Look, DMV assholes, there is nothing intimate about my mangina. In fact, I'd say that most manginas can be classified as "the most unintimate thing" people have ever seen. I am tempted to send you douches a slideshow of photos of my mangina to show you just what you're taking away from me. My mangina and I have been everywhere together. On one trip to New York, some kids were laughing at us and I got out of the car and beat their asses. No one fucks with my mangina. Oh, and who can forget the time my mangina came out of nowhere and spit all over those guys who were about to attack me from behind.
My mangina has been there for me every step of the way. Sure, we've had our battles. He's been a real dick sometimes. And he's been a little too close to my ass sometimes, but man, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything.
I know when you wrote that letter stripping me of my mangina, you probably did not realize the extreme emotional, and physical, damage you would be inflicting. You can't just rip off a mangina and slap on something new, you bastards. At this point, he's really a part of me. Do you really expect me to put a screwdriver near my mangina?
I think the worst part of this whole ordeal is that you cocksuckers not only want me to remove my mangina, but afterwards, I have to send you the remains. For god sake, at least let me keep him near my bed, in my pants, so I can cherish the memories.
But as I am a law abiding citizen, I will follow the directions in your letter and mail you my mangina.
Take care of him. Cherish him and love him, just as I did everyday we were together. Don't feed him too much and never, ever pull him too hard.
I know you're just doing your job, DMV people, but I hope my mangina fuckin' spits all over you. And it gets in your eye.

Yours truly,

Ryan

Elliot Yamin lost!! There is a GOD!!

This was at this massive anti-war protest in London, the old hippies there, surprisingly, did not appreciate our obnoxious American behavior. God, drinking gas, though, that's some hardcore shit. I'd have to be at least 8 beers deep to even give it a try.
Some really fat guy tried to beat my ass last night, but lucky for him, Clements held me back. You can laugh now. We were at Big Daddys with a UR girl Courtney and a couple of her friends. This guy, we'll call him Fatty McDouche, starts grinding behind Courtney and I think she made these uncomfortable faces, which caused me to laugh clearly. I guess he saw this and he came up to me and said "Oh, I'm soooo fat, are you talking shit about me?" I said, "No Fatty McDouche, I didn't say anything, I'm just doing my best (terrible) white boy dance moves over here." He eventually just went away and I was able to get back to spanking Clements. Here's the point though: If you weigh 750 pounds and start dancing behind an attractive girl, thereby causing her to throw up in her mouth, I am going to laugh at you. It's a very simple concept really.
You know who hate? Yes, you, but besides you, people who respond to those evite things saying they can't come to a party because they're a)going to a wedding in Hawaii! b) sorry! i'm backpacking through Europe this weekend! happy b-day, though!! c) oh man, wish i could make it, but i'm flying around in the new plane my daddy just bought me!! Yay! Me!! Look people, nobody gives fuck what're you doing, nobody cares about your thrilling life, if you can't come to a party, just click the "no" button and get off the site before i'm forced to kill you. Hell, don't even respond at all if you can't do it without being a total douche.
I had 20 bucks on the Mets beating the Yanks by 2 runs yesterday...I was all ready to go out and spend my winnings on 50 cherry Slurpees, and then Billy Benitez puts on a steel tipped boot and slams it into my junk. 4-0 in the ninth, Billy, you make $8565969 million a year, how does this happen? And Willie Randolph has got the brain of a fuckin retarded mouse, Benitez walks 30 batters and takes a dump on the mound, and you leave him in there? Ok yeah, moral here: Gambling is bad.
I'm torn between Thailand and South Korea now, more fun, more whores in Bangkok, but a whole lot more $ in Seoul. It'd be really lame if I sold out for the money, but it's gotta be a factor when you've got 20 G in student loans and your car can't go around the block without something falling off it. If anyone's been to these places, give me advice damn it, and this is mainly directed to whoever has been checking my blog from Korea. I appreciate all of the worldwide support for my blog. It's been seen in all of these countries: Korea.
The guy who posed as an H-P reporter so he could check out young girls at the ballet called me on my cell phone yesterday. He wanted to know if I was coming to this street party in town. Man, I have no idea why I didn't just go off on this guy, and then call the police, I think all of the drugs are starting to wear me down. But really, my voicemail at work says to call my cell if it is urgent, I don't what fuckin dictionary this perv is using, but I could have sworn urgent does not mean call to annoy me on Saturday afternoon. "Hi, this is Ryan, I'm not here right now, but if you happen to be a pedophile, please get in touch via my cell immediately."
Worst Movie Ever: The Ringer.

Shockering the World- London Edition

Welcome to the back from London edition of my blog. Here on the left is one of London's most famous tourist attractions: the Shocker chair at the arcade/casino. My mom didn't know what the shocker was, but she insisted on attempting to make the sign repeatedly in what can only be described as the ultimate low point in the history of my family (See the photo below of her attempting to do it in front of Westminster Abbey. Notice I tried my best to maneuver the camera above her, to no avail. Just wrong.)
It was a fun trip, although spending the entire first night lost on the night buses and paying $4,000 for a beer wasn't all that great. The hotel was right next to the underground so it was usually real easy to get around town, but the subway closes at midnight, which is exactly when you need a simple, very direct route home. We did manage to make it out a few nights and the trip concluded with a lovely boot from a bar. Story goes like this: John and I went to a bar in Leicester Square that had this promotion with 14 cheap beers on tap they billed as the Voyage of Discovery. So we decided to discover if we could finish all of them/see how fuckin idiotic we could possibly be. As we neared the conclusion of the voyage, which we attempted to complete way too quickly so we could meet up with the rest of the family, we noticed how retarded all of the bartenders looked in these goofy sailors hats, especially this 6-5 black guy who clearly was not enjoying himself. I asked him if they forced him to wear it, he just smiled, took the hat off, and hung it up behind the bar. At this point, this story is pretty predictable. We wanted the hat. Like, real bad. When the bartenders were all gone for a second, I ran behind the bar and just as I got my hand on the front of the hat, I see the bar supervisor make his way down a couple stairs in front of me. He didn't kick us out then, he just gave us his best dirty British glance. But then we kept offering all the bartenders ridiculous amounts of money to give us a hat and I know we were close to getting one of them to crack when the supervisor told us we were weren't being served anymore. I said we didn't want anymore beer, just a hat. He said, leave the bar. It was still early so we took about 100 flash photos of the two bouncers standing outside. A dick move, indeed, but they were laughing, even as we tried over and over to get back inside. So that was a good time. I'm still not sure if we ever finished the voyage. John says we did, though, and I think I'll take his word for it.
The whole jet lag thing didn't work out too well. We remained on American time throughout the trip. John and I woke up at 330 pm on Monday and Tuesday and on the one day we woke up early, the whole family took a 3 hour nap in the afternoon. We also went to casinos a lot and it was a bit of a surprise how they are all over the place. Sadly the didn't have hold'em so we played that change game where you put a coin into the machine and hope to knock the other coins out, the ones hanging perilously close to the edge. It looks soooo easy, but then you're down 10 bucks and want to kill yourself. We also went to Greyhound Racing one night, where a bunch of dogs run around a track and you bet on the one that goes fucking crazy before the race. That was the most exciting part of the trip, when my dog won the race.
Oh, right, we did do a bunch of the touristy stuff in London, the Cabinet War Rooms was decent, the art museums entertained me for about 5 minutes and Big Ben tried to get in my pants. We attempted to tour the Wimbledon tennis club, but we got there at 5 pm, and I guess things close right after we eat breakfast.
It's clique to complain about London weather, but jesus, 65 degrees, cloudy with a good chance of rain everyday? Give me some sun, damn it. Overall, good time, but by the 3rd day there, I kept thinking to myself: Fuck, I'd much rather spend a week in NYC.
I did see Deal or No Deal for the first time and if the US version is anything like the British version, it's horrendous. How much time can they possibly waste in a half hour of TV? That game should be over in 45 seconds and who the fuck is this banker? If I were the banker, I wouldn't ever offer anything. "Fuck off, keep playing, I'm out of money, I just blew my load on a bunch of Chinese whores." The people who play the game are so retarded, anyway, they should all end up with a nice shiny nickel.
And on the tv front, Elliot Yamin, the American Idol finalist was in Richmond the other day. I was not here, and thank god for that. Let me say this very clearly: If you watch American Idol, you need to throw yourself in front of a moving bus ASAP. There's a story everyday about Yamin in the Times-Dispatch, who the hell is running the paper over there? A 45-year-old overweight divorced woman, with 7 kids and a fucking peanut for a brain? Hey, you know what, if Elliot Yamin adopts a bunch of orphans or pulls a family out of a burning building, let me read about it. Otherwise, if I read one more story about Elliot's mom or Elliot's friends or Elliot's beard, I am going to castrate myself with a butter knife.
Alright, ending on a much more funny note, if you haven't seen this video about the new super soaker, get to it, immediately: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdAIt4MgnHc When Dan showed me it yesterday, I almost died. If you're too busy to go to the video and would rather waste your time continuing to read this blog, here's a brief description. IT'S A WATER GUN THAT SHOOTS OUT SEMEN! I know, you're saying, there's no way that's true. Look, it's called the Super Soaker Oozinator, it shoots out globs of white stuff and little kids rub it all over themselves. This would be pretty funny if it were a joke. The fact that it is listed on the super soaker web site as a real product and it has an ad that says "Pump until white, gooey stuff comes out," makes it the funniest thing I have ever seen. I will probably end up buying one when I get drunk sometime, so then I can shoot ooze all over the place. A bunch of reviews for the gun on amazon were taken down because they mocked its blatant similarity to a fucking penis. Here's one of my favorites:
"I first discovered how fun my Oozinator Blaster was when I was in 7th grade. Ever since then, about 7 years later, I've been having a great time with my Oozinator. It just never seems to get old, its even better to play with friends too! I've found myself shooting friends with the Oozinator plaster all over the place, my bedroom, my couch, in my car, in a movie theater, in bathrooms, anywhere is a fun place to have you and a friend play with the Oozinator. This one time I even got these two girls Catie and Amanda to play with my Oozinator at the same time!"

Stephen Colbert has balls and they are freakin' huge.

Sean, Bobby and Nikki were down for the weekend and as is usually the case, the gayness was on full display and Nikki continued to question why she is still friends with a bunch of idiots. On Friday, played poker, during which time I drank many shots of vodka, leading to the inevitable not leaving the apartment. Oops. Did manage to make it out on Saturday, though, and any night that ends with Chanellos is a solid one in my book. Whenever my friends are here, I always feel better about my life, in the sense that I am forced to wake up and do things. Then I think, wow, this isn't all the bad, this whole being an active member of society, maybe I'll make an effort to keep this up. Sure, I went to work for 3 hours today and now I'm ready to take a nap. I need a life coach.
I can't remember the last time I felt so uncomfortable and at the same time incredibly amused as when I watched Stephen Colbert's performance at the Washington Correspondents Dinner the other day. Bush was literally five feet away and Colbert ripped him into shreds. Now I've never found Colbert to be all that funny, he's a pube on Jon Stewart's comedic ball sack, and I didn't laugh at many of jokes he made at the dinner. It was the venue, a bunch of uptight pretentious press people and the President all getting plugged in the anus by the doofy looking Colbert, that made it so great. The audience laughed at maybe two of his jokes and the rest of time looked like they wanted to slam their heads into a brick wall. Man, it was easily the most hilarious not-really-funny thing I've ever seen.
All these conservatives are now whining about Colbert being too mean and over the line. Hey guys, he has a show on every night at 11:30 on Comedy Central, ever heard of it? Yeah, he pretends to love the president, but it's bitter, it's harsh and he was at his best at the dinner. Really, what the hell were you expecting? That's like inviting a pedophile to be the clown at a kid's birthday party. You're just asking for it. There's a video of it here, http://www.crooksandliars.com/2006/04/29.html#a8104
I read an article in GQ a while ago about how guys usually end up with pretty much the same group of friends they made in HS and college for the rest of their lives, mainly because guys don't know how to act in socially acceptable friendly ways with each other. And there's some real truth in that. I've been out plenty of times where I've met a guy thinking, I'd love to hang out with this dude. But there's some kind of homophobic gene in every guy that makes even the seemingly harmless, "Hey man, want to grab a beer sometime?" sound like "Hey man, want to grab on my nuts sometime, ooh, I'm so gay." It seems like basically unless you meet other guys at work or something, there's no way to get around that flaw in our human nature. I really don't know what the solution is, unless you actually go gay, and despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I'm not ready to go down that path.
I brought my car into the shop last week because my brakes no longer worked. I'm not even joking, my stopping distance was up to about 2 miles. It wasn't an quick job apparently and I kind of needed to get to work. A lady who was there for an oil change offered to drive me to work and that right there is another thing I'll miss about Richmond, besides the Paper Moon and Phillip Morris. Fuck, you go to a mechanic in NY, I don't care if your wife is about to deliver 15 kids out of her ass, no one is driving you anywhere. So I took this lady up on her offer. And yes, I did perform road head as a thank you, hmm is it still called that on a girl? Maybe road muff? Or road tuna?
I almost punched through a wall today while I was playing blackjack for these stupid bonuses. What a frustrating game. At least in poker, if I lose, I almost always know what I did wrong and can fix it. With blackjack, there is no skill, you just sit back and watch your money disappear. And then you cry. I guess I can't complain since I didn't lose any of my own money, just the bonus, but I'm suprised the neighbors didnt call the cops when I was running around screaming at 11 am. Please contact me immediately if you know of any good doctors.
London on Saturday, I probably won't update this bitch again until I get back, so suck it up and find some other terrible blogs to read in the meantime.