This Is Why I Don't Sleep At Her Place

Apparently, it's good for some species of spider for the female to eat the male that thought he was going to get some. As a precaution, I always make sure the first time is at my apartment -- at least she has to deal with the cops if she decides to give in to any arachnid urges.

Let's All Celebrate!

Germany Unity Day is Friday -- let's all commemorate this wonderful day (though, admittedly not so wonderful in France or Poland)! How, you ask? By joining East and West symbolically with a (former) West German woman and (former) East German woman in a bridge-building threesome. Einheit für alles!

Woooooo, Will Ferrell!

See more Will Ferrell videos at Funny or Die

Some important, probing questions are asked (and answered!) by everyone's second favorite elf (Legolas kicks ass!).

Just Trying To Be Nice

We've all been there before -- you see a friend you haven't seen in a while and you say, "You look great! Did you lose weight?" Normally s/he (ok, fine, "she") says, "Thanks! I've been working out" or at least "Thanks! I haven't, but that's nice." You don't expect, "Nope, same as always." So I'm faced with a dilemma of what to say. To cover, I go with humor.

FREE TIP: women don't think this is funny.
"Hm. I must just remember you as being heavier"

Now, this wasn't my greatest line. It can't compare to "let's go gaff some babes", "LeChad" or my other time-honored classics, but it was solid. Having noted this, I have to say that the audience reception was less than enamored. You've been warned.

Such A Double Standard

I think it's bullshit that when a coworker is being a jackhole and blames it on "low blood sugar", she's given a cookie. When I blame my own behavior on "low blood alcohol", people give me speeches about rehab instead of a drink.

Hittin' It, Old Testament-Style

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"So Drunk in the August Sun" 2008 -- Plan Now

The Mutiny Coordinator Strikes again! If anyone needs Schmubb's phone number to register, let me know. I plan to be the first to call.

I'll likely not be in the sun, since it's the dorf, but I will be there. Join me!

Straight from Schmubb's email...
Hello friends, family, comrades, and fellows,

Let me take you back in time to the year 1999 (I think) to a hot, sunny day in Huntsville, Alabama at the intermural fields of University of Alabama in Huntsville. Our heroes are Elliot "The Uusticle to the Buusticle" Wright and Schmubb "Schmubb" Sieja. They decided to sit in the fields, bask in the rays of our 2nd favorite cancer agent, and proceed to get blasted. While doing this they were listening to a certain Pavement album by the name of "Crooked Rain Crooked Rain." All of a sudden the song "Gold Sounds" found its rotation and we notice that Steven Malkmus sings "so drunk in the august sun blah blah blah..." and we immediately (and quite cleverly, I might add) notice that we are living the song. We, too, are so drunk in the august sun. Like Thomas Edison, Eli Whitney, and the founder of the "Miracle Blade 2000" (for that matter...the "wanker 3000") we realize that we have just founded the first "So Drunk in the August Sun" Party.

In the summer of 2002, by another (yes, another) stroke of genius, Crayton "The Dirty Hippie", "Ice Cold Tone", "The Fat Man" Harrison and Schmubb "Schmubb" Sieja decided to revive this tradition and have every year since gotten drunk while basking in the sun of Dallas, Texas. This year will be no different. We are planning on sitting outside drinking beer, playing man-opoly, and perhaps watch cars drive by all day. That day will be Saturday, August 30, 2008.

Now we can't expect you to come to Dallas to join us in these shenanigans (nor do we want all of you here...I mean, where would you all sleep?), but we do want your distant participation. WE WANT YOU to aid us in the quest of making this party, and the song's relationship with it, go global. We want this holiday to surpass that stupid holiday celebrating that guy in Ireland getting rid of all the snakes. What a dumb thing to celebrate. We want a celebration of celebrating nothing. We want us all to focus on what's should be at the forefront of all of our brains, sitting around in the sun, sweating, and getting drunk.

So, here's what we want you all to do. On that Saturday in a few weekends, we want every one of you to spend an hour, two hours, or all day out on your porch, your lawn, a bar patio, or whereever outside drinking a few beers (and/or drink of choice). Then we want you to call or text Crayton or myself and let us know how much fun it is to be lazy and do nothing but poison yourself. Crayton and I have an over/under bet on how many people we can get to do this. We're not going to tell you who bet what, but a reach around* will be the prize for the victor (*note, by "reach around", I mean "a cold beer paid for by the loser").

You don't have to RSVP...but you can if you want. If you have any questions, email, mail, or call your local attorney general.

cheers
-Schmubb

I've Got The Olympic Spirit

And this is all it took:


Go for the gold, ladies.

A Mind of Its Own

I know it's happened to me more than once while modeling...

Lemurs In The Wild

Exclusive footage from the Lemur Reunion in Prague (that's Prague in alternate universe 234)! Note: the women pictured were, unfortunately, the ugliest ones we saw...



Special props to Marc R for the footage!

The Hills Have Ass

God, this was horrible. Really, really bad. I like the occasional horror movie, but I feel I should be, well, scared. Not fucking bored. And if I'm not going to be scared and you're going to drag two hot women to Morocco for filming? Show some breasts. Is that too much too ask?

UNRATED? Hardly. This film gets rated 5 Wuthering Heights (of 5, for craptacularity)

Knowing When To Say When

We've all been there -- you're in the post-coital snuggling and you want to know how long you MUST linger. How is this not worthy of a guidebook? Is there a Cosmo article on this ("Is He Snuggling Long Enough -- How to Tell!") that I missed when I got my hair cut?

Here's what I want: a simple chart with scenarios and how long you have to stay in bed after each:

one night stand, neither orgasm 31 sec
one night stand, only he orgasms 15min, 30 sec
one night stand, only she orgasms 1 sec (only if he wants a second shot)
one night stand, both orgasm 10min, 30 sec
one night stand, both orgasm (multiple for her) 8min
coworker, neither orgasm 10 min
...

We can legally define waterboarding as torture (wait, or not?), but you can't tell me how much time I have to put in? THIS is what Lonely Planet needs to be working on. Sure, it's great to know that I should round up from 9.50E to 10E for a tip to a lazy German waiter, but how much time do I need to give before I can go home for some sleep?

Saving The Environment, One Night At A Time

Thanks to King Wally, I realized that I'm not doing my part to save the planet & save petroleum. In short, I'm letting the terrorists win (but I'm playing hard enough they think it's all them). So, here a few ways I've resolved to help save our precious natural resources:

- No more will I spurn the advances of vegans or fruitarians.
- To save petroleum wasted on latex, I'm back to the classic mix of pulling out or "Alka-Seltzer"
- To save water & energy on washing, I'll be encouraging my dates to wear as little (or, even better, no) underwear.
- I'll be cab-sharing every night after I leave a bar or club
- Next time in Amsterdam, only shows featuring local, organic or Fair Trade cucumbers and bananas.
- To avoid throwing away plastic, I'll stop telling women they didn't need enlargement surgery.
- My man waxes will only use organic wax
- To save electricity, I'll forego the softly lit pillow talk after sex for sleep
- 2 women + me = 2 showers fewer water

You Must Be Fucking Kidding

So, I'm chatting with a friend, and I make that a joke about Target's new ad campaign: "It features Michael Jackson and Paris Hilton". But it came out as: "It features ************** and Paris Hilton". However, the program followed the Priscilla Presley rule, since "Michael fucking Jackson" was uncensored. Only with Michael Jackson could adding the word "fucking" be considered less offensive.

And The Winner Is.. Cheese-Eating Surrender Monkeys!!!

First, in summer 2007 I had my heart broken... when my dreams of being a "leader" were dashed upon the lies of a [censored] [censored] [you better believe this is censored] bitch. But I stayed at work in spite of the two-faced, soulless she-devil (sorry, this isn't bitterjt.blogspot.com, let me take a deep breath & get back to the story... Okay). Then, this morning, my dream of a Summer of George (or Steve) were crushed today by the fucking French. I swear to fucking Christ, since the Sun King these goddamn Frogs have done nothing but fuck up. Forget Waterloo, forget Dien Bien Phu, forget Paris in pretty much every goddamn decade from 1787 to 1945, today was their biggest disappointment. All they had to do was (and this was completely in their wheelhouse) lose to the Germans -- the fucking Germans.

If you are French, you remember them from such ass kickings as: WWI, WWII, every Olympics before doping, every Tour de France before doping but after 1987, Wimbledon, etc. If there's one thing the French know, it's getting beaten like a rented mule by the Germans. Buuuuttttt NOOOOOOOO, Credit goddamn Mutuel had to drive a dumptruck full of money up to the front door of Citi's New York offices while Deutsche Bank could only be troubled to offer some cash, some stock, and a two-for-one coupon to CEOs-R-Us. Jesus, Deutsche Bank, why not just try to buy it on fucking layaway?

So, as of December 1 I work for Credit Mutuel and have a "promise" of 18 months with no reductions in force -- and a resurrection of The Conversion Project That Wouldn't Quite Die. No Summer of JT, a return to the nightmare project, Christ almighty, it's a goddamn rerun of 2007 minus the personal bullshit. Ugh. Reply, comment, who fucking cares? I have to work Monday.

For Once, I DIDN'T Have This Coming to Me

So, I'm in Cesky Budejovice on a Saturday night, minding my own business & watching the Euro 2008 game on TV. Toward the end of the game, some of the young guys (18ish? guessing the age of young GUYS isn't my specialty) at the table next to me join my table for a better view of the last-minute excitement of the game. One of them, Pavel, starts talking to me (he clearly wanted to practice his English). He's out drinking to celebrate the end of the soccer season with his team. I buy him a beer and then he invites me to join them for the evening. It's all good -- for now.


At the next bar (they talked of going to a club, but weaseled), their HOT (they were Czech) chicas joined and flirted with most of the team.


I was on my good behavior, so not only did I not chat them up, I even refrained from gawking or taking photos (my bad). I chatted with Pavel and his buds, shared rounds, and had a good time.


This is where it gets a bit odd. Normally, I'd get hammered, make an ass of myself and expect/hope for CW or Big Dave to bail me out. Not this time. I'd just about finished my (next-to-) last round when nature called. Afterward, being tipsy enough to use the air dryers (and not sober OR drunk enough to just wipe my hands on my shorts), I am drying my hands when someone walks behind me & pushes my face into the wall. Hard enough to hurt, but not to draw blood. Being a nice guy, I assume this is someone bumping into me. I turn around and see...


Apparently this nutsack wasn't as jolly as his teammates -- the tall douchebag was behind me and says, "let's go outside. I'm going to kick your ass." Thinking quickly, I reply, "OK!"

I know that if his chums are also into this, I'm fucked. So we leave the bathroom & he heads for the back beer garden where the team is & I turn left for the front door. As I exit, I decide it's time for an interval workout & start sprinting (in my sandals). After a few seconds I hear steps & shouts. NOw this could be a) he & his buddies letting me in on the joke OR b) he & his buddies letting me in on the ass beating. I decide discretion is the better part of valor & head for home. They give up & I arrive to this:

If you look closely at the jackass in the mirror, you can see the red mark on his chin from the wall. On the other hand, the beer in Cesky Budejovice is quite tasty. When I got back & saw the mark (and felt it), I realized that a) I was lucky to have all my teeth and b) I can piss people off when I'm on GOOD behavior. Damn straight.

In Case You Were Confused

This is to point out to those of you who've forgotten the differences between a "relationship" and "friends with benefits". I think this will be my standard response when people ask me if I'm dating anyone.

Taken from http://i30.tinypic.com/34j3rzm.jpg


Click on the image for a larger version...

A Little Teaser

It's funny. My single friends, who might very well maim to get to Prague, didn't ask me for photo proof of the veritable bonanza of bohemian beauties. My married friends? They're on me like the Dutch guy I met on a prostitute. So, here's a teaser for you.


These lovelies were trying to get people to sign up for something during the Euro 2008 final. I thought it would be rude not to sign up. And, fear not, I cock blocked some asshole while I did. WE'RE NUMBER NINE! WE'RE NUMBER NINE! WE'RE NUMBER NINE!

Now, That's TV

Nothing's better on German TV than Sunday night's "Männer TV" (Men's TV). Tonight's episode? A woman who wanted to be a model so she got her rack done & then did a topless photo shoot. Just engrossing TV. Definitely not comparable in fuzzed-out US TV.


Mmmmm... breasts...

Ahhhh... Dorf Weather

To quote Pope Benedict XIII, "Jesus Fucking Christ, it's fucking cold out there." It's mid-June and the high tomorrow is rumored to be 54. Are you fucking kidding me? If this is sunspots, I'm moving somewhere warmer.

2008 French Open Part 2 - A Cautionary Tale

If you're going to wear the Hawaiian shirt on a sunny day at the French Open, it's a good idea to put sunblock on the back AND front of your neck. Just sayin'.

French Open 2008 Part 1 -- Cougar Watch

Saying the French Open is like The Byron Nelson of Paris isn't quite accurate, but it's close. Lots of locals trying to look good, lots of cougars trying to look young, lots of athletes whining about crowd noise when they fuck up a shot. On the other hand, the 16th Arrondisement outshines Las Colinas, the beer at Roland Garros is nonalcoholic, and public transport is the way everyone gets to the event (including some coaches and practice partners). Today I'm focusing on the cougs. Enjoy!



Scott was my beard to get wildlife photos. I think these two (bordering on Grandcougar or Den Mother status) knew what was going on.



This one was rocking the monster shades in spite of the complete cloud cover and intermittent rain. Nice.


Stairs, sun, and competition from the young hotties make for angry cougars.


The camouflage of being a tennis fan is more convincing if you splurge 4E on the daily program/magazine.

Back to Bitterness

In case any of you were really disappointed by not getting to go to Prague, I just realized that if it'd happened I would've spent a month straight there. I might've OD'ed on hotness. Oh well.

Rest assured, I will try to bring some fun back to the blog while there.

Stop Slacking, You Nutsacks

I never got any fun suggestions for jackass behavior to exhibit in Paris last summer. I am now opening the comments for a 24-ish hour window on suggestions for my 2008 trip to the Eternal City. I will be hitting the French Open, so look for my "I heart Hot Moms" and "Don't Act Like You Don't Want Some of This" in the friendly rows of Roland Garros. Also, I vow to attempt to be the first man ejected from the tournament for hitting on a player's girlfriend/wife during a match.

You Must Be Fucking Kidding Me

"There are 4 levels of love. The first is puppy love, you feel it in high school..."

Ok, I give the guy some credit for a different approach, but c'mon -- that shit's played out. Listening to this shit just about killed me. I don't want to sound jaded, but it sounds manufactured that you think the levels of love are:
1. You are infatuated.
2. You are with someone who fulfills your needs and turns your crank
3. You are with someone who you know what they want from the beginning & what turns them on.
4. S/he turns it up to 11.

To paraphrase Dave Chappelle: "Nigger, please."

Jesus fucking christ, I'm no expert on relationships and I know this is fucking bullshit. Do women actually fall for this crap? Because if they do, I'm looking forward to a trip to Douche-ville. You've been warned.

Yes, I've been drinking, why do you ask?

You're Such a Ducking Shiv!

For more How to videos check out 5min.com

Have you wondered why doesn't T9 recognize "cocksucking motherfucker"?

Not What I Meant By That

"She just spent all weekend hanging around my lovesac". They chose a horrid name, but at least the B-52s are free to record their theme song.

The New JT After Dark Logo

Jeannie's eagle eye spied this on a stoplight, and I have now officially "borrowed" it for my logo. T-shirts to come!

Word Of The Week: Blumpkin

"You can buy one hell of a blumpkin for that" -- announcer, in "Dodgeball"

From urbandictionary.com:

"The delicately balanced art of getting your cock sucked while taking a dump."

Thank Christ For "Serious" Actresses

Lindsay Lohan is turning her life around, and I am 100% behind her. The flick that will regain her the respect of the world? See for yourself:

"The 21-year-old, who previously played a pole dancer in the box-office flop I Know Who Killed Me, has reportedly agreed to "full frontal" nudity in her role as a nymphomaniac waitress in the drama."

Helllloooo, Oscar! Or Skinemax.

Italians Acting Shadily? Really, You Think?

Italians are "shocked" that some Tuscan winemakers may have been illegally blending their brunello wine with other grapes to make it more pleasing to American tastebuds. Why, exactly, are they surprised? In the last two years alone, Italian soccer teams, mozzarella makers, politicians, etc. have all been shown to be shady. They should be shocked if there wasn't shadiness.

Keep An Eye (And Maybe A Hand) On Your Penis

Apparently, there's been a huge rash of penis thieves in Kinshasa, Congo. According to Reuters, 13 suspected sorcerers have been arrested for penis theft. Apparently many times the penises aren't actually stolen, but have just been shrunk or made limp. Does this mean that Viagra and enlargement surgery are the counter spells?

Lemur Reunion Photo!

Sean, Mike & Cory look good all grown up, don't they?

Henchmen or Development Plans In Waiting?

After watching "Fight Club" and "X-Men 2", I'm thinking that being a "leader" is overrated. From what I've seen, it's basically a) sending men to their death and b) sending more men to their death (in myplace). Here's my official Pledge to Minions:
1. No Off-Camera Deaths -- You work too hard to be offed off-camera.
2. No Octopus-based creatures -- Let's be honest: octopi are fucked up. They have an assload of arms AND they have a fucked-up plural form.
3. No "futuristic" uniforms -- jeans, shorts, sandals, Dockers ® -- fuck it. Wear what you want, but: No ass-cheeks and no nipples.
4. Flying monkeys -- these fucking primates will do all the shit jobs. They're the new underclass.
5. Besides, we always have the people that don't look like us.

Yet Another Reason I'm Glad Cameras Don't Follow Me At Work

Is It Just Me Or...

does coming home from work at 3am make everyone feel like they should smell like smoke and/or skank?

Brussels Souvenir, Anyone?

An entire store with adult diapers. Who says belgians aren't sexy?

Nutsack Is The New Jackass

Everyone knows my love for the word "jackass". I try to use it as often as possible. However, I think it's getting a little played out. So I decided (in the shower, naturally) to start using "nutsack" in its place. Give it a whirl. I think you'll like it.

Germans Have No Sense Of Humor

At the end of my date on Tuesday, I had just gone back on my promise to "not cum in your mouth" when I looked my date in the eye and said with a huge smile, "April Fool's!" She didn't see the humor at ALL.

Social GPA, Or "You're Not Dumped, You've Got a 1.0"

I was recently told on a Friday night, "My plans fell through, you're my plan B". I thought, "Ok, but for you to be my plan B would require grade inflation." To make a 3.0 GPA at that point was great. We would have fun if we hang out, but not a lot of work or planning required. On the other hand, the woman I was dating recently plummeted from a solid 3.7 to a 1.0 or so in less than a week -- not something she'll be putting on her myspace page. To aid the rest of you in discussing your social GPAs, here's the breakdown:

4.0 (A) A committed (at least in the short term) relationship that requires a lot of time; like choice of majors, tends to be very rewarding or very disappointing. Or, it's the equivalent of an easy A in gym: physically rewarding and short-lived. No matter, this is your top social priority. If it's work, you should start shopping for heart medication and a headstone.

3.0 (B) This can be anything, from friendship to a long-term relationship to a booty call, but you're at least open to something better. 3.0 is best known as the relationship way station -- this is generally a stop on the way to a 4.0 or 2.0 (or lower). The key is to see the movement and act accordingly (people will try to convince you to "work on it" but you should go for the pre-emptive dumping".

2.0 (C) If you don't have anything better to do, this is it. As George Costanza put it, "Right in that meaty part of the curve; not showing off, not falling behind." This is where most friendships exist -- unlike college, you can't have all A's. However, one rarely admits to this: "I'll study more before the next test," "We should hang out more often," "I'll call you next week," etc. You might as well say, "I'll cram the night before the next test," "If I'm bored, I'll let you know" or "I'll call you when I'm drunk & horny."

1.0 (D) It's either too hard or you just don't want to do it. If you find yourself cleaning your house, going to lunch with coworkers, or finding any other mundane task instead of this, you've got yourself a D. It's better to drop this before grades are due and save yourself some embarassment.

0.0 (F) You want nothing to do with this person and will avoid them at all costs. In theory, it's possible to recover from this, but not likely. If you think you're getting an F, don't try to fix it, just let it go. Otherwise it's all wasted energy. Or, go down in flames. Show some initiative!

Of course, sometimes one must blow off a 4.0 to salvage a 2.0 in another course. This is understandable, but doing it too often invariably leads to lower grades than expected. Teachers don't like students skipping class, you know? Also, remember that taking a course a second time may be easier, but not socially...

An Assload of Menu Options

Words fail me. For long-time readers, you may recognize the theme. Two years later, more cafes had the same ass options, and I laughed each time.

Stuff White People Like

I think this blog should list itself. A sampler:

#25 David Sedaris
#24 Wine
#23 Microbreweries
#11 Asian Girls
#10 Wes Anderson Movies
#9 Making you feel bad about not going outside
#8 Barack Obama
#7 Diversity
#6 Organic Food
#4 Assists
#3 Film Festivals
#2 Religions their parents don’t belong to
#1 Coffee

Note: I'll be on vacation in Italy for two weeks. Feel free to hate me.

You Don't Get Ads Like These In The USA

Big shout-out to Brendan for this one!



This one was also, um, tasty.

Absolute Fact(s) of Existence

from a review of “The French Connection”:
“The French Connection” is the single greatest New York City cop picture of all time. That’s not a theory. It’s an absolute fact of existence, like water boiling at 220 degrees, or President Bush sticking his head up his ass when he speaks.


um, doesn't water boil at 212 degrees? Call me crazy, but if i'm claiming "absolute fact of existence" I would want to fact check first. Of course, this doesn't stop Paul Tatara from having written my favorite movie review of all time, of "The Wizard of Oz". Why? Lines like this:

Glinda, the Good Witch of the North (Billie Burke) -- Could this chick be any more full of herself? "Yeah, all the witches on the west side are ugly. Not gorgeous like me." Factor in the magic wand and she's like a delusional homecoming queen with a cattle prod. Anybody who's attended high school knows that that's trouble.

Dump Or A Break-Up?

I got into a discussion recently about whether or not a friend of mine was dumped. This led to the larger question of what differentiates a break-up from a dumping. After much thought, here is my distinction:

I and my friends get DUMPED.
I and my friends BREAK UP with people.

There are exceptions, of course. On at least one occasion, I've been the asshole and dumped someone (it was a Y2K thing). But, in general, this is a great rule of thumb. Or middle finger, as the case may be.

That's Bush League, Audrey!

A real life Ron Burgundy. God bless YouTube.

Powerthirst -- Official Drink of JT After Dark

The only way I can get my jackass on is to grab some Powerthirst. To help sate it, more Powerthirst (warning: may contain Anna Kournikova)

Gone in 30 Seconds

Many of you know the Lakewood Landing as the neighborhood dive bar in lower Greenville. Some of you have tried to get tossed from there. As far as I know, none of you have succeeded quite so spectactularly as I did. Remember, it was my birthday and I had brought my A game.

I enter the bar, seconds ahead of Deanna & Courtney and maybe a minute ahead of CW, Schmubb, Chad and my other enablers. I see 1 seat at the bar untaken, except for a woman's feet. Below is the interchange that followed, with my commentary:

Me: Is this seat taken? Wine had dulled my normally spectacular wit

Chair Girl: Yes. Clearly, I'm going to have to carry the conversation.

You: Yes? Really, by your date? The sarcasm was dripping from my voice here

Chair Girl: Yes. She's realized that she's met her match in this debate.

Me: Is he here? At this point, I'm pretty sure her "boyfriend" is "here" in the same sense that Bigfoot is roaming the Pacific Northwest.

Chair Girl: Yes, he's in the bathroom. Clearly, she's lying.

Me: Is he really here, or just HERE? A classic "Matlock" maneuver -- try to trap her with my quick legal wit
Me: Well he doesn't really look here! AH Ha! At this point I felt it was time to up the ante...

I attempted to move her feet out of the chair for her, and Courtney walks up, her years of dealing with Chad & I having alerted her to potential obnoxious behavior.

Courtney wisely tried to intervene, but I jokingly (we knew I was joking, chair girl didn't) pushed her away, saying "I got this". Chair girl motions to the bartender, and they both tell Courtney to get me out of there. At this point Chad, CW, etc. are walking in and the doorman asks them if they're with me. They (rather naively) say yes, and so they're also tossed.

As we are walking out, I turn around and ask Chair Girl where her date was. Touché!

Not What She Was Hoping For

So, I'd been dating this woman for a while, and we hadn't seen each other for a few weeks. We finally get together at her place, and I could tell something was up -- she wasn't all over me as usual, and that had my Spider Sense going off. We start talking about work or music or some bullshit, and, out of the blue, she blurts out:

"I have a new boyfriend."

Now, the response here is key. You don't want to appear too hurt (I wasn't) or too uncaring (I was), so you must play it carefully. Knowing this, I replied:

"Good for you! Who's the lucky guy?"

To say she was taken aback would be an understatement. This is not the reply she was hoping for. She stuttered for a second, then babbled out some response along the lines of, "he's really nice, we're in love," blah blah blah.

She's lucky, though. Here were the others that flashed through my mind:

"We're not having sex tonight, are we?"
"I'm glad I didn't pay for dinner"
"I hope you don't mean me"
"Probably a smart move on your part"
"Is he using his whole ass?"
"I would like another beer, thanks!"

The Big Deal

Due to some friends being unable to shut the f-- up about me having a blog, I needed another, parents-free blog. So, shut the FUCK up! While rumors of competing blogs will dog any internet denizen, you can rest assured that this will have most of my attention until I get bored with it.