Upper Management Was Not Written All Over Me

* Sorry I'm late sir. Lemme just grab my coffee and squeeze in my morning masturbation session, then I'll get right to work.

After a few years of selling Jack Daniels I decided to take an office job in D.C. The money was fantastic but the job was demanding and I hated every second of it. It involved a lot of cold-calling, dealing with dickhead attorneys, conference calls and other things that I despised. For the last few months I was behind that desk I barely did an ounce of work, or I should say, the only work I did was ensuring that it looked like I was doing work so I could keep collecting a massive paycheck until I found another job.

Most of the time I surfed the web, went on walks around DC, went to Caribou Coffee and flirted with the baristas, or sometimes I would slip away for a masturbation session in the can. The bathrooms were always immaculate, which is great for masturbating. It was also nice because I was severely over-caffeinated during this period in my life and thus was prone to frequent and massive dumps. You know how it is.

The worst part of the day was fighting the rush hour subway crush. I was a beast when getting on and off the Metro. Many poor old ladies probably got an inadvertent elbow because god forbid I wait for the next train. One time I got so raging drunk at happy hour that I vomited on the floor of a semi-crowded Metro. Vomit in a cramped Metro car smells very bad. Just ask the 40 people that were sitting around me.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday were spent getting obscenely wasted, spending hundreds of dollars I should've saved and possibly finding a woman to take home. I found a few but for the most part it was a waste of time. If I never have to enter another "posh" DC club and endure the too-cool-for-school poseurs who hang there, well, I'll be just fine.

I miss living up north but I don't miss that life.

As the new year comes and I start staring down the barrel at 27, I wonder if or when I'm going back to the grind. Bartending is not easy, but compared to that hell I've got it pretty good. Unfortunately what I've been taught to want (MONEY) is a lot tougher to come by when you don't hustle at an 8 to 5 everyday.

Of course getting laid and enjoying life is a lot easier in my world now, so there are some trade-offs.

Things That Will Not Happen In 2010

The Cowboys winning a play-off game with Tony Romo at the helm. How long do you stick with an unarguably great quarterback when he can't win the big one? I guess you stop calling him great and just start saying, "Yeah, Romo's decent." I recommend we look up Quincy Carter at whatever Wendys he's working at now and give him another chance.

Print newspapers continuing their downward spiral. This is clearly wishful thinking on my part because I write for a reputable paper but who am I kidding? Papers are for the baby boomers and the greatest generation, the latter of which will no longer exist soon.

The continued proliferation of flavored liquor. The other day I had a ten minute conversation with an ABC guy about bacon-flavored vodka. When will this shit end? People need to aim for quality, not bubble gum and grape infused crap. Although I will be tasting the bacon vodka when given the chance. C'mon, it's bacon and alcohol. A killer combo.

Bar sales decreasing. The Recession means nothing to my employers and I. People need to get stanky drunk on the regular.

Condom sales increasing. I'm over these damn things. You are too. Admit it.

Blow jobs. Are at a premium in the Jack Goes Forth camp. Sigh.

Me cutting back on the drinking. I want too, badly. Like, really badly.

Me not getting my own apartment and sparing my Mom from having to hear me have sex.

Punch Drunk # 12

In this week's Punch Drunk I profiled one of my favorite Richmond bartenders. Go read it here or find the print edition of Style Weekly all over the city.

An Army Of One Blow Job

Three Army soldiers walk into a bar, two male, one female. The female is surprisingly cute, at least compared to the other repugnant Military women I've met in the bar before. All three start slow with pints of Dos Equis. They are the only three people in the bar. After a few drinks and minimal small talk they pay their tab and leave.

Two hours later they walk back in. This time two of them order Vodka Redbulls. One is the designated driver and he orders a Manhattan to sip on.

Over the course of the next two hours the group manages to consume 11 Vodka Redbulls, one Maker's Mark Manhattan and three shots of Tequila. They aren't causing trouble and I have no reason to take action, but it's clear that I need to cut them off.

One of the guys walks outside, slips on the ice and unbeknownst to anyone for 15 minutes, falls asleep in a pile of snow in only a t-shirt. He is eventually found and put in the back seat of the car. His face was slightly bloody I'm told.

The somewhat cute girl is now completely bombed. She offers to blow me, and then my friend, and then she staggers over to the only other girl in the bar and offers to blow her. The ass I'm bartending with slips her my phone number, which I somehow get back 5 minutes later and throw away. We attempt to get this girl to take my friend (who was drinking at the bar) into the bathroom with her and blow him. I felt strongly that someone (excluding me) should get blown.

She then goes outside and leaves a puddle of vomit in the snow. After this she returns and offers to blow us, again. I could smell her breath from 6 feet away. We got the DD to get her out of the bar as there is only so much I can get away with without getting fired.

The driver was nice about everything, even his co-worker trying to whore herself out. It turns out he had received much oral pleasure from this girl before, so he was extra nice all things being considered.

This particular group of soldiers specialized in dismantling IED's, which they will soon be doing in Iraq. It's one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. I don't mind giving certain benefits to people who could get their limbs blown off at any second. That mouth-hug she wanted to give my friend may have been the last time she would be able to get on her knees in a urine-soaked bathroom and have some stranger's junk in her face, and I respect that.

Plus I prefer when the troops are congenial and offering me sex. Usually they just get obnoxiously drunk and start fights with everyone.




*The Israeli Military features female conscription, meaning that barring any unfortunate illnesses such as marriage or pregnancy, Israeli women have to serve their country. This makes for tougher, slimmer and less entitled young women. America on the other hand, features gluttony and bountiful riches. This makes for spoiled fat girls.

You Won't Find Them In The Club Anymore

It's a sad day in the RIC. Local big money rappers/ballers, "The Get Money Green Brothers" have been indicted in federal court for trafficking over 50 kilos of cocaine here in Richmond. Yes, you heard me. The musically gifted trio of Christopher "Big Get It" Woolridge, Natasha "P Get It" Payne, and Terry "Little Get It" Battle are going away for a few years. The city mourns for the loss of three southern rap pioneers whose voices were surely touched by the hand of God himself. We also mourn for the loss of one of the main cocaine arteries that flowed into the city, but that's another story.

Needless to say upon hearing the news I had to immediately Google these guys and catch some of their music videos.

I watched their incredibly bad ass single,"DiscoBallin" and didn't recognize a single place in Richmond because of my tendency to stay away from all publicly funded housing complexes, although I did recognize one of the crew. I'm almost certain that I served "Little Get It" when I used to work at Tiki Bobs. I don't remember what I made him, but he looks very familiar.

Had I known he was pushing that type of weight and was a rap star to boot? Sheeeeeiiittt, I would've given him his Long Island Iced Tea for free.

Will someone buy me the 804 hat from the video? I need bitches to know that I'm from Midlothian.

New Year's Drink Recommendations

"My mother taught me that the way you spend New Year’s Eve says a lot about how that year will go. Even something as simple as standing up when the clock strikes midnight will do more to ensure a year of good fortune and success than sitting down.... It’d be awesome if a few hours could predict the subsequent 365 days. I would go all out and spend a few thousand dollars throwing a party where there would be cocaine for everyone. I’d make many new friends and I’d bang the hottest coke whore in town." -RooshV

For the most part I do think that starting the year on a good note is important. At the beginning of 2007 I spent my New Year is a hospital, bloodied and sleepless. Bloody from getting attacked by 3 Dominicans and sleepless from putting the entire GDP of Bolivia up my nose. 2007 then turned out to be the year that my life sort of fell apart. I don't think it was a coincidence.

This year, like last year, I'll be bartending New Year's, which is actually pretty similar to getting beaten up by three Dominicans. Amateurs flood the bar, "Jaga Bombs" are downed, fights ensue, vomit will flow like the James River, I will hate everyone, etc. There isn't a bartender in the world who likes working New Years.

Since most of you will be out drinking come midnight on 1-1-10 and not reading a book or attempting to improve your life, I've made a handy list of what to drink as the new year begins. Based on what drink you pick, I've formulated an approximation of how your life will probably turn out in 2010.

Vodka Soda- You will maintain your body weight for another year. You will also not make any headway at your boring cubicle job because you don't take many risks. Your personality bores me.

Bud Light- See Vodka Soda.

Shot of Jose Cuervo - You will vomit on the jackass next to you and end up sucking off some random stranger in a cab, all by 4 AM. Your year on the other hand, will be impeccable. Filled with fabulous soirees, exciting dates, bountiful riches and success. Ha. I'm kidding. Your year is going to suck harder than the blow jobs that you will eventually be handing out for crack.

A glass of red wine - Conservative, classy, good taste. I like your style. I predict a solid year for you, a decent tax return, and at least 15-16 bouts of sex in 2010.

Gin and juice - You're gangster, I like that. You're also poor and use horrible grammar, which I don't like as much. I predict that you work for the city in some capacity. Possibly the waste management division. Your year will be average.

A shot of Rumpleminze - Great fame and fortune will find you in 2010. You will be with many beautiful women during 10', women that would not usually be interested in you. No STD's will appear on your penis, a penis that will never go limp or premature. I salute you, proud baron of the bar stool.

A craft beer- You're a beer snob. The taps are right in front of you jackass. No, we don't have any "IPA's". It's fucking Miller Lite, Yeungling or Dos Equis. It's right fucking in front of you! Fine go to Richbrau and drink their beers. Dick.

A shot of Jack Daniels - I see mostly prison time for you in either Chesterfield, Mechanicsville or Petersburg. Grand Theft Auto, Domestic Battery, Assaulting a police officer, Public drunkenness - You pick one.

Champagne: Poppin bottles, banging supermodels, driving late-model Cadillacs, making model airplanes, going to Modells for all of my sporting equipment needs... I'm right there with you playa. I'll probably mix a shot of Rumpleminze in with my Champagne to ensure my year's success.

Jager Bomb - You will die in 2010.

* I took this picture. Rick Ross and I had a fun time that night.

Punch Drunk # 11

I had sex with a woman a few days ago but you probably wouldn't have guessed it after reading my current Style Weekly column. This week I confessed my love for gay bars and a certain RVA drag queen.

Go read it here or find that little red Style Weekly box that's all over the city.

Rumpleminze Is The Gift That Keeps On Giving

My crippling addiction to Rumpleminze is finally going to pay dividends! German Bartender Magazine, Mixology.eu , has enlisted me to research the minty 100-proof goodness that is Rumpy and its popularity in the states. Although Rumpleminze is produced in Germany, no one has heard of it there and no bar stocks it. Blasphemy!

They're also paying me 100 Euros, which I imagine will keep me blacked-out on the Rumpleminze for at least 3 or 4 hours.

Go check out Mixology (if you can read German, here, or English here.) I haven't decided if I'm going to write the article in Deutsch or English yet. I don't actually know Deutsch, but I've seen Schindler's List and have read Mein Kampf, so I should be okay.

Apparently The Glove Fit

* "Yeah, so I did some drugs with my Italian boyfriend and ended up killing my whore British roommate. Bitch had it coming.

Anywho, I'm crazy hot. Right? How you gonna convict my sexy ass???"

I've been obsessed with the case of Amanda Knox. She's the American exchange student accused of murder in Italy. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about = Pick up a newspaper, or somehow try to stay abreast of current events. Or just kill yourself you retarded waste of space.

Moving on.

I've been hardcore rooting for Amanda Knox. What American wasn't rooting for Amanda? She's beautiful, she's charismatic,...she's uhh, beautiful.

She's also fucked. Sentenced to 26 years in an Italian prison today.

The "facts", according to the sources that I read on the internet (NYTimes, MSNBC), are inconclusive. It really is tough to say if she was the culprit. She had the best Italian defense attorney that money could buy (think Johnnie Cochran, but Italiano ) and she had an alibi. There was also some other idiot who is already in jail for the crime and there are a host of other reasons why she is innocent. On the other hand, some of her previous statements don't match up. There also seems to be quite a bit of foul play involved regarding testimony and evidence.

My groin feeling is, Amanda Knox is only guilty of one crime.... Being smoking hot!

No way she murdered anyone. Pretty people don't do that. They're too beautiful to kill. C'mon, Italy is all about vanity. They should know this.

Until we start pinning murders on the ugly/fat people, we will never have true justice in this world.

Caddy's Tells The Guvnah To Fuck Off

This is really great. The best little dive bar on Southside has stood up to the Governor. They are refusing to enact the smoking ban. Ha! This is my Southside for you.

I've been going to Caddy's with my Mom since I was 10 years old. This place is an institution to assbackwards, right-leaning, "headed to the rivah", southsiders. I still like to go there and sing karaoke (they have it 7 nights a week.) and I've definitely had to be ejected from Caddy's for various transgressions (mainly drunkenness). Needless to say, it's an interesting little bar.

Taking smoking out of Caddy's would be like trying to drive a car without wheels. You can't do it. They still have yellow tar stains on the walls from 1987.

I tell you all this because in July of 08' I blogged about a near fight I had there. Pretty ridiculous stuff: KaraokeHooligan

How To Get Back That Overdraft Fee

* I'm getting my 35 dollars back one way or another bitch!

It's not that I'm poor, I just like putting money into my savings account instead of my checking. This practice along with my practice of spending and tipping like an Arab prince while out at the bars (and than forgetting about it the next day) inevitably leads to my account being over drafted. In college it happened once a week, now it's more like once or twice a year.

For a long time now I've kept my mouth shut and deposited more money, eating the 35 dollar fee, or the 70 dollar fee, or the 280 dollar fee. Not anymore. Here's how I got back my over draft fee this morning.

Wearing basketball shorts (sans boxers), a hoodie zipped halfway down (sans under-shirt) and sporting Ed Cullen-like bedhead, I stormed into Wachovia. I stomped up to the first employee I saw and with a tone that can best be described as "hateful rage", I went at it.

"I was over drafted today for 140$ and I want it refunded, if you won't do it, I want all of the funds from all of my accounts on a cashiers check within 5 minutes."

They immediately took me to an office where the bank supervisor was waiting. She tried to keep a nice tone but I was having none of it.

"I've already spoken with SunTrust and I'm fully prepared to leave Wachovia right now! 140 dollars?! I only over drafted for 14 dollars! This is highway robbery and yet another example of our nations banks cheating blue collar individuals such as myself out of our hard earned money! Would you not agree?!?"

I was on a roll...

"I've given Wachovia thousands of dollars in overdraft fees over the years with nary a word, but no more. No more I say! I need a bank that is working for me and for my future, not a bank that is out to take the bread off of my child's table!" (For the record, I have no legitimate children.)

At this point the supervisor had already agreed to refund it and was in the process of doing so. She tried to lighten the mood by making small talk about the weather and holidays.

"I didn't come to talk about the weather, or the misery that is Christmas. I get to do that enough while I'm bartending."

What a fucking dickhead right? I can't help it sometimes. Playin with my money is like playin with my emotions!


So the key to getting back that overdraft fee????

Go completely apeshit. It works like a champ.