My 11 month year old puppy decided it would be a good idea to perform open heart surgery on this stuffed bear. No need for scalpels or tweezers here. If there was another puppy around assisting, here is how the conversation may have went:

Doctor Wynterwolf: this bear isn't going to make. Ruff.

Nurse male terrier: well what do you suggest, doctor. Ruff ruff

Doctor Wynterwolf: Do you concur? Ruff ruff ruff

Nurse male terrier: Well of course I do. Ruff ruff

Doctor Wynterwolf: I trained you very well the agree with whatever I say. Even if it doesn't make sense, which rarely happens, you still agree like a big floppy idiot. Maybe that's why you're in the profession you're in, stupid. Ha ruff ha ruff ruff.

Nurse male terrier: well I'm a dog, miss Wolf. I obey. Ruff

Doctor Wynerwolf: ok then get me a squeaky toy to replace this broken one here and a bone to wash it all down. You can also smell the spot where I pee'd earlier. And some Ruffles. I want some Ruffles too because the name of that chip company is so clever. Now go to it little bitch! I got surgery to do! RUFF!

I ventured out into the night yesterday with a couple friends for a couple drinks. Now, a couple drinks ALWAYS turns into 20, and it's hard to keep my thoughts straight and ideas sharp when I'm a little hammered drunk. So here's the short post of the day (with a few highlights):

1) Because of the newly found coldness outside, two of my friends were wearing long sleeve flannel shirts last night. One was immediately called Al Boreland, and soon enough both of them were refered to as the hosts of "Tool Time." They both laughed it off nervously and tried to change the subject immediately. All of a sudden I saw a hammer and tape measure fall to the ground from one of them and kicked underneath the bar. I said nothing. 

2) There was a girl at one of the clubs dancing with a lot of different guys. She hit up at least 8 guys to dance with and at one point was getting triple sandwiched in the middle of the dance floor. She also had this weirdly shaped body. Her face was attractive, but her body was shaped like a sideways "U." She looked like a giant magnet with heels. But I guess that would make sense: Magnet for D-Bags? Genius!

Anyways, I asked the DJ if he saw stuff like that a lot, and he replied, "Well, it happens all the time with her, She's a call girl." Oh. I just couldn't see anyone paying for that weird, D-Bag magnet body. Desperation is a nasty cologne. 

3) Someone said to me, "So, I see you got this whole Jonas Brothers thing going on with your hair." Yes, I am making fun of myself here because I really had no answer for him. Yes I want to grow my hair long. Yes there are many ugly stages. Yes it sucks. Yes I have to take all the jokes without any defense. Yes you are all assholes. Yes, yes you are. 

Just re-read and maybe next time I shouldn't end the blog with making fun of myself. Oh well, I'm too lazy to change it. Don't expect it to happen again. Jerk.

So I used the term "post daily" very loosely on my last post. I am certain that I will only be posting Monday through Friday, since my job consumes my entire weekend along with mid-afternoon naps and trying to stay out of the house besides said naps. But the Monday posts are always full of ridiculousness because of the three different environments that I DJ at around the city. A college bar, a third ward bar, and a ghetto club. It seems all these characters line up to be on this blog, flaunting themselves with no shame, not caring how badly I may make fun of them. They may be secure with themselves, or they may be confident. But I know that if you appear on here, and you know I am refering to you, the feeling of embarrassment may seep into your veins like ecto slime. People have denied it before, but it's just like picking your nose: everyone does it. Here we go:

1) I forgot to mention that at the brewer game, there was a ticket checker in the lower level section that took her job very seriously. I have never seen someone take a $6.50 an hour job this way. There was no way that anyone could get past her without getting their ticket checked. Even if she saw them leave to get a hot dog or something, and they returned within a matter of minutes, she would still check it. It was as if her brain became a blank slate every ten seconds. Actually like "10 second Tom" from 50 First Dates. "Hi! My name is Tom!" "Hi! I'm a stupid idiot ticket checker with no life! And I'm ugly as hell!"

There were also people that had things in their hands (beers, nachos, dildos, etc...) and she made them put all their stuff in one arm so she could check their ticket. I found this to be over the top. A line would form because she wouldn't let anyone past her. All these poor people, missing the excitement of the game, doing the "pee dance" in line just waiting to get back to their uncomfortable seats, watching their all holy cheese fries in a helmet getting ice cold, upset seeing all the high fives and rejoicing happening in their section. "I wanna high five dudes and slap asses saying 'good game' too" is what everyone was thinking. I saw this and felt for these people. So my plan next time is:

Purchase a lower level ticket

Purchase 4 beers and carry them WITHOUT a drink caddy

Stuff ticket down the front of my pants

Wait for a large line to form in front of the ticket checker

Approach her, tell her my ticket is in the front of my pants and I have no way of reaching it unless she gets it herself

As soon as she refuses, ask her to hold my ALCOHOLIC beverage while I get the ticket

Have a friend snap a shot of her holding a beer and send it to Food and Beverage Manager of the stadium

Fired! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

2) A girl was sitting at the bar completely hammered drunk. She dropped something out of her purse, and being the nice Saint James that I am, I went to pick it up. I picked it up, puzzled, and said, "Um here. You dropped your bottle of lube."

She replied, "Oh thank you! That could've caused some problems later, hey? Haha."

She resumed drinking like nothing happened. That's the last time I do anything Saint-like. If someone drops their phone on the ground I'll say, "You dropped your device for making and receiving calls...BITCH!"

3) Some girl at the bar got up to go to the bathroom and started to pass out mid-walk. Someone caught her right before she hit the floor, saving her a broken nose (because dignity was not save-able at that point). Anothe guy ran up to her friend and said to him, "Dude, your girl is falling over passing out. Literally!" He ran to her rescue, and carried her out of the bar with her feet dragging against the ground. I wish I was that classy.

4) I was at a red light waiting to turn left. There were a few people on the other side of the street waiting to cross. I thought that I could beat them out as I usually do, but I remembered that I was downtown and the walk sign always appears before the light turns green. So all these assholes got a head start, and I had to wait. But then I saw them start to form a single file line! It's like they heard what I was thinking and communicated with eachother via osmosis to form a line to piss me off. There were only 6 of them, but the rate at whcih they walked was slower than molasses. I then saw a glacier float by past them, Then a family of turtles who started after them crossed and entered the nearby fountain. It was an eternity that I waited, and have now subjected my head to happy thoughts at stop lights so noone can read my thoughts. Rainbows and Unicorns are all I can think of now. Bastards. 

It's cold out. Fall is the worst season ever. Worse than winter.

Yeah. I went there. 

 

 

Socks and sandals. It's so unattractive that I take a photo any opportunity I can. This one is particularily interesting because it smelled like the inside of an ass in that bathroom and I had to hold my breath for a Michael Phelps amount of time to try and snap a decent pic.

Why did it take so long to get a decent pic you ask?

1) Like I said, the smell was ridiculous (see above for description)

2) When holding you're breath like an Olympic swimmer, it becomes hard to function and I started to sweat profusely with black spots appearing on and off in my eyesight. Focus was the farthest thing from within my reach

3) My gag reflex

4) Even a perfectionist relies on quality. No matter what the circumstance

5) I couldn't decide whether a front or side shot would be better. I know it's my own fault for being in there longer than desired but for some reason I knew it had to be a perfect shot

All said and done, it was worth it. Sort of. My nostrils still burn.

So I had the opportunity to hang with some of my chums from the old Iowa days (and when I say old, I mean 2 months ago). They are a mixture of die hard cubs and brewers fans. The stream of shit talking and recalling past games and current records are a normalcy. Bean bag toss, testicle toss, salad toss, grilling frozen patties with fake cheese and generic ketchup, and soggy chips are in the mix. Beer: Multiple, cold, and domestic. The occasional "Cubs Rule!" shouts followed by "Brewers Rule!" reminds one of arguments that neanderthals may have had at the beginning of time. But even with all these testosterone driven rituals, many funny things surface when massive amounts of alcohol are involved. Here's a taste of what happened yesterday:

1) I walked into a conversation about a guy (cub fan) who got gay danced on by a bunch of other cub fans after a victory. I turned right around to immediately look for more alcohol. 

2) All the guys kept asking me where all the strip clubs were at. I was telling them there were some decent ones and not-so-decent ones, but their only stipulation was "Dude, as long as there are no pregnant bitches on stage then we are in!" This I understood with my time spent in Iowa. You may think it's a weird stipulation, but experiencing strip clubs in East Dubuque myself, I found it to be completely reasonable. Well, half reasonable. 

3) One of the guy's brought Vodka and was mixing it with energy drinks. At the end of the game, we returned to the car to find that all the energy drinks were gone. This guy (let's call him Cleff) was desperate to find a mixer for his Vodka. Cleff thought it would be a good idea to dig through the garbage to find one. He emerged from the garbage bag after having the entire half of his upper body in it only to reveal a half liter of lemonade, "I found some!" he rejoiced. All the others were happy for his discovery, but I said, "Are you sure it's not urine? It looks a little TOO yellow if you know what I'm saying." 

Long pause. Complete silence. 

Another guy ran up to Cleff and said, "That can't be urine. I would know."

"Yeah, urine has a distinct look and texture to it."

REALLY? Where was I? Was I in a nightmare where the water was warm and everyone decided to jump in? 

As with any drunken topic of discussion, the urine fascination fizzled and talks of football and who claims "King Ding-a-Ling" status commenced. 

Minutes later, Cleff emerged from one of the cars screaming, "It's not urine, guys! I tested it. It's ok!" 

I proceeded to the nearest cooler to get a beverage that couldn't be questioned as urine: an unopened beer. 

4) As we were cleaning up, someone picked up an object and asked, "Who's belt is this?" Considering it was a group of ten guys with no females in sight, I found it rather odd. 

5) After the game we all went to a bar (Let's call it "Shmelly's Leachers"). Enjoying beers and talking about the game, we noticed a couple girls standing by the bar giving Cleff the old stink eye. Cleff realized this, and walked over to chat with them and buy them shots. I wasn't within earshot, but before I knew it one of the girls was flexing her manly arm and showing it to everybody. It looked like a small person crawled into her arm and was convulsing in the fetal position. I started to realize that this "she" may be a "he." Then I thought, 

"Cleff is hitting on the Tranny!"

"Cleff is gonna get a hummer from the Tranny!" 

"Look at that Adam's apple! Did she swallow an eight ball?" 

"Yep, those are Ciara shoulders for sure."

I decided to call it a night so not to see the outcome. 

Until tomorrow since posts will be daily from now on. Ciao kids

 

 

http://io9.com/5364836/fantastical-food-technologies-that-bite-back

 

 

I have finally returned to the land of four seasons, the city of heavy drinking, the town of happy cows and pointless parking tickets. Yes, I am back in good old Milwaukee with nothing but time on my hands. I also had some time to observe and experience a  couple funny things in Lake Tahoe, so here are some of them:

1) The hotel I was staying at was very nice and had plenty of amenities. The one amenity that drew me to this particular hotel was the happy hour special they were offering. For two hours everyday, drinks were free. FREE. As many as you could get your hands on. Only setback with this deal was that you had to wait in a long, thirsty line of people with nothing but alcohol on their minds. Some idiots would wait in line for soda. SODA?? REALLY??? There was a soda machine in the "no line" area and they were wasting my time and stepping in the way of my parade to annihilation. As soon as I saw this, I was determined to order more drinks than anyone in line to make up for it. I waltzed up to the barkeep and said,

'I'd like 8 sex on the beaches, please."

He replied, "Sir, there is a 2 drink order minimum for each person. Why do you want so many?"

I said, "Don't ask questions you don't want answers to. Here's a five. Make it happen."

Tips to these monkeys were unheard of, and I knew of this. I tipped $5 each time and received 8 drinks regularly. Ah the joy of duping locals...Or did I get duped? Shit...

2) My date, which I'm not sure her identity wants to be revealed on here (we will call her Ms. Jameson), was pointing her finger close to my face and trying to pick my nose. Disgusted and confused, I grabbed her hand playfully and started to bite it. As I was biting her hand (while walking in a mall), a couple in front of us turned around and stared at us. I didn't think anything of it, but later on realized that it must have been a bizarre sight from an outside perspective. Here may have been their conversation:

"Honey, Look at what that man is doing to that poor woman!" 

"Wow. That;s pretty funny. I wish we had that much fun. But no, your idea of fun is watching "Survivor, season 1" over, and over, and over again. Guess what? They SURVIVE, Bitch!" 

"Well excuse me for keeping things simple."

"I'm done watching your stupid shows and eating your crappy food. I'm going to find a hooker and eat some pizza. See you at home."

Wonder how that ended up. I'm assuming awesome for the guy. 

3) A bug landed on my leg in the car. I swatted at it and successfully made contact. Impressed with my cat-like reflexes, I started to think about a fly swatting school I could set up. Classes on how to swat successfully without the use of an actual swatter. Seminars on the "Swatting flys and Karate chops" fusion I invented. Creating swatters that look like inanimate objects with my brand "Cababaswat" on each product. Sponsoring events like "Daniel's annual Dead Fly" convention and "The Swat Wap Tournament." My ideas were streaming like electric eels in ta kiddie pool when I looked down to observe my kill. It was a piece of black lint. Sigh. Time to swat out a new idea. 

Done and done. I find Milwaukee a bit more amusing. 

 

"For what, Harry?"

 "To block the sun of course. I don't want my tan to be uneven."

 ...

 "Hey honey! Where are you going? I only need it for a little while! What do you mean I'm feminine?!"

So here I am, in the airport on the way to lake tahoe, contemplating when I will have a chance to blog again. It may not be until after the weekend, so I decided to write a short one to satisfy not only your hunger for hilarious ass shit, but also so my experiences won't be stale from neglect. So here are some highlights from my past week:

 1) An old friend stopped over the other day to watch the packer game. I welcomed him into my home by opening the door for him. As we were walking up the stairs, I realized he had a murse (man + purse = murse). I asked him why he had such an item on his person and he replied, "I'm strangely comfortable with it. " Honesty is the best policy...apparently. I didn't bring it up again, but whenever he looked at me while wearing said murse I giggled to myself like a schoolgirl. Ha

 2) I was walking downtown and saw a man on the corner handing out pamphlets screaming, "praise Jesus! He is the way and your savior!" I started to think to myself, "Jesus, shutup!" I then realized what I had thought was thought outloud in front of this poor guy and how he may have been confused as to whether I was telling him to shutup or Jesus to. It was weird for the both of us.

 3) I was djing on Saturday night and an old, skinny black man walked up to the dj booth and asked me to play Elton John. I said I'd have to see if I had any, and he screamed, "Please! Just play anything by him!" I'd have to say that was the most awkward request I've ever had.

 4) A friend of mine was refering to another friend as, "he's the guy that bangs ugly chicks." strangely i knew who he was talking about.

 5) I was having a conversation with a friend. Let's call him "Matrick." He was talking about showering with other guys in the locker room and how he is totally comfortable with it. I told him felt the exact opposite, and he replied, "it's not unpleasant to look at naked guys."

 Too easy

 You may hear from me from Tahoe. We will be in touch.

Sent from my iPhone