Thursday, January 28, 2010

The Penis Of Oden

Nude photos surfaced this week of 7 foot 1 inch, 1st pick of the 2008 NBA draft, Greg Oden. Apparently a vengeful ex-girlfriend decided to post the pics online, although after viewing the pics I don't think Oden has anything to be ashamed about. She probably did his goofy ass a favor.

Jason Whitlock (Kansas City Star, MSN Sports) wrote a funny follow up piece to this story where he talks about the "size disadvantages" he had to encounter in the locker room during his time as an NBA beat reporter. Interesting and hilarious column.

I'm fairly sure that if I ever entered an NBA communal shower I'd come out shell-shocked, looking like I just survived a month long fire-fight deep in the jungles of Laos. My penis would cease to work after that day. I'd be haunted by nightmares of ex-girlfriends getting gang banged by the entire roster of the Portland Trailblazers.

If I ever decide to turn to sports writing as a career, I will only cover golf and middle school basketball.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

I Need Steriods Fast!

I recently planned a Jersey Shore excursion for February and no, Seaside Heights is not on the agenda. Just casinos, booze, poker, and that strip club where you can bring your own booze that just so happens to be next to the casinos. To my chagrin there will probably not be any fist-pumping. Although judging from all of my previous jaunts to Atlantic City, the shore will still be just as trashy and poofy-haired as the MTV show makes it out to be. It's sad that America now sees Jersey as some Italian wasteland of fights, gyms and bad grammar. One of those sad but true things I suppose. Fuck it, I'm embracing the whole Guido lifestyle...And I'm Irish.

Heeeeyyyyy, A fist pump and a Jaga-bomb for this guy!

....Last year I went to AC and got accosted by a cougar. An ugly cougar. Hilarity ensued. Read about it here.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Are You Ready For Children? A Quiz.

*Lil Jackie Joe DiMaggio Slutbox Huge Mistake Lauterback

I attended a baby shower the other day. Another friend of mine was there with her newborn. I told her I couldn't hold it because I just got a new tattoo and didn't want to get any salve on the poor thing so instead I petted it like a little schnauzer. Maybe it's the fact that I'm still getting new tattoos or maybe it has something to do with sleeping until 2 PM everyday, but I'm far from ready to be a father. The only possible scenario where I would be a father is if a girl lied to me and went ahead with the pregnancy, and even in that scenario the child and the mother, and really anyone who has ever met me, would never see me again. I imagine I would end up in South America somewhere, or possibly joining up with a band of Somalian pirates.
So for you guys who hate condoms (c'mon raise your hands, don't lie), or for you ones who throw your dick around like a hot potato without the aluminum foil, here's a handy pocket guide for you to consult the next time you entertain the thought of releasing your lil pirates into some maiden's booty. Correction, some maiden's va-jay-jay. Her booty is a safe haven for pirates.

1. When holding a child your first instinct is:

a.) to purr at it and curl it up in your arms like a little teddy bear. Awww, isn't the lil buuuuhbeeeee so cute!!!

b.) to hold it for 3 seconds and give the mother a faux-smile, saying something semi-cute along the lines of, "This is quite the little pooper-scooper you got here."

c.) You would never hold a child. Gross.

d.) to shake it like Port Au Prince while calling it a "lil shit". Then drop it on the soft spot of his still undeveloped cranium.

2. Your girlfriend needs to talk. She's late! What to do? Are we ready for this? She is seriously considering having the child.

a.) You sit her down and hug her tightly. You're here for her and the decision is hers.

b.) You imply that you would like to go forth with an abortion, but make it clear that it's a joint decision and you will man up with whichever course of action is decided upon.

c.) You go into the other room and curse the gods while sobbing profusely. Then you start Googling the local abortion clinics along with their rates. Then you Google the nearest doctors who perform paternity tests. As a fail safe you Google one way tickets to Mexico where you will begin a new life as a cab-driver/drug dealer/ local hit man for hire.

d.) You shake her like Port Au Prince while simultaneously punching her in the stomach.

3. As a small child your first memory consists of:

a.) Your dad buying you a bike and running around the neighborhood with you. Such fun memories.

b.) Your big brother accidentally slamming your finger in a car door.

c.) Your drunk uncle making you sit on his lap.

d.) You eating your identical twin in the womb.

4.) You're forced to have a child. The mother is adamant about it and you are left with no options. What do you decide to name the little thing?

a.) Jack Jr. Ahh, what the hell. He looks like his father. You might as well embrace this whole experiment.

b.) Larry Bird Swingers RZA Jesus Lauterback III. If you're gonna have a little guy, he's going to have the best name in the whole freakin world.

c.) Gaylord. Have fun in school with that name you little bastard.

d.) Daddyhatechu Fuuker Lauterback. Just tell him it's a mix of your African and Dutch ancestry.

If you answered mostly A's: Have a child. You're ready. For Life. To End.

If you answered mostly B's: Put the condom on and think twice about this whole baby thing. You will be ready someday but there's no need to rush it. Have some fun.

If you answered mostly C's: You're not ready. Definitely wear a condom and get checked for STD's regularly. Don't have a child and ruin their life too.

If you answered mostly D's: I'm shocked they let inmates use the Internet. You shouldn't be allowed anywhere but a darkened barroom. It's parents like you that produce serial killers and rapists. You can't afford a proper abortion so your only option is an at home flush job or the ol' dumpster drop. Congrats my man. You passed the test!

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Punch Drunk # 14

This week I told the new Governor what he can do with VABC (shove it up his ace) and I talked about Rozlyn Papa. Two subjects that don't go together but are entertaining nevertheless. Read it here or go pick up a print version of Style Weekly.

Monday, January 18, 2010

The Rise Of The Drinking Class

Interesting article in the NY Times about the 00's being a great decade for drinkers. While publications like Time Magazine declared this past decade as the worst, the Times decided that it was an overwhelmingly successful one for the imbiber. Drink choices and fads, including the Mojito, Vodka Redbull and the revitalization of craft cocktails helped to get us drunkies soused and the overall art and new respect given to the cocktail made drinking a lot more interesting. Drinking became the new eating, at least to us skinny folks.

From the parts that I can remember I personally thought the 00's were pretty awesome. I got drunk and laid more in the 00's than Charlie Sheen (Editor's note: This is a complete lie.) I also grew to manhood during this time period (Editor's note: This statement is debatable.)

Read the article here and remember to pick up a copy of Style Weekly tomorrow. I argue why the Virginia Alcohol Beverage Control should be privatized (sold) immediately.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Like A Boss

I have a great deal of regulars who come into the bar. Most are just like-minded, twenty something drunks. However I do have a few regs who actually do something cool with their lives in addition to being like-minded drunks. It's these regulars who will help me out of jams (police officers), give me free swag (marketing types), take me to the back room for a reduced rate (strippers), sell me drugs at a reduced rate (drug dealers), and get me really cheap hotel rooms (hotel managers). This is how I ended up in the two story penthouse suite at the Crowne Plaza last night. I won't mention what I paid, but the room usually goes for over 600 dollars a night and clearly I'm not paying anything near that. I took my girlfriend with me for a romantic tete a tete, and because I felt bad for not getting her a Christmas or a Birthday present.

Some highlights of our stay:

One and a half baths. Who has ever been in a hotel room with a half bath? I haven't. We designated it my "crapper room". It worked out well for us.

A spiral staircase. Which almost killed me after my second bottle of wine.

Special condom receptacles. Also known as trashcans.

Two monster flat screens.

Really expensive toiletry items, so says my girlfriend. I told her to steal them. She stole the mini mustard bottle instead because she thought it was cute. I don't understand her sometimes.

A California King bed.

Free room service. Okay so it wasn't supposed to be free but the lady inexplicably told us that it was all on the house. She must've thought we were ballers for staying in the nicest room and that we were going to tip her a lot. Or she wanted a threesome. I don't blame her either way. I tipped her well... With cash that is.

A full kitchen, but no minibar. Only a bottle of water. I was a little disappointed with this. When I'm strutting around the room like some Pasha in only boxers and business socks, I need a little touch of the hard stuff. The business socks were on because duh, it was about to be business time.

No robes. Again, my strutting would've been much more bad ass with a robe on.

Free breakfast and not that bagel and cereal bullshit. I'm talking good stuff, in our own private dining area. If you think I'm eating with some 7th floor staying businessman type, you're dead fucking wrong. We also had our own personal Japanese server for breakfast. I'm fairly sure that she doubles as a server and a "service provider" for the hotel. (See below)

Free escort service. Unfortunately I had my girlfriend with me. This is an option for the Penthouse Suite. Seriously.

Free condom removal service. Otherwise known as maids.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

I Shouldn't Be Allowed In Public

(As I'm walking into the gym this afternoon I pass by some guy. He looks at me funny and stops.)

Guy: "Oh look who it is. Thanks for calling me a douchebag on Friday night."

Me: "Huh? What are you talking about?" (I figure this guy is joking around)

Guy: "At City Dogs, you came up and called me a douchebag for no reason."

Me: "Uhh, shit man, I was really wasted. I don't recall much of City Dogs. I certainly apologize about that."

(We talked for another 15 seconds and I still couldn't remember what happened. I apologized again, offered to buy him a drink and walked away.)

So of course 5 minutes later I vaguely recall singling some guy out for some perceived slight and then forcefully referring to him as a douchebag. The second I remembered I turned around and tried to find the guy in the gym but he had already left.

I'm the fucking douchebag. Drinking to excess, being a complete dick at a bar where my girlfriend works, and then not remembering any of it. I guess me blogging about it is my act of contrition. That's not enough though.

If anyone knows a guy named Peyton who was at City Dogs in the fan this past Friday, or if you know a guy who was at City Dogs and was unjustifiably called a douchebag, please email me or direct "Peyton" to this post. I owe him a drink and a sincere apology. He owes me a boot in the ass.

I'm 26 going on 17. How sad. You know what's even sadder? My constant usage of the term douchebag.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Training Rozlyn

There has been a lot of chatter recently about smoking hot blond and Richmond native Rozlyn, who is a contestant on the latest "Bachelor" series. Apparently she ends up fucking a cameraman and is thrown off the show or some shit (This is hearsay. I am not saying she definitely banged a cameraman. Don't need another libel suit).

What you might find interesting though is that I actually trained Rozlyn to bartend for a few shifts here in RVA. I also made her cry once because I didn't like her and I thought her work ethic sucked my balls. Don't get me wrong, she is very attractive in person and trust me, every guy who saw her wanted to hook up with her.

If only we would've realized she was a ho...Things might have been different. We certainly would've put more effort into seducing her. Of course she was also a complete bitch and even her ho-ish ways couldn't overcome that.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Punch Drunk # 13

New Year's resolutions suck. Except for when I hand them out to other people and the MTV show "Jersey Shore" is involved. Read the latest Punch Drunk here or go pick up a print edition of Style Weekly.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Hobo Rant

An hour ago I'm on my way to Lift, a coffee shop on Broad St. to do a little writing. I'm a block away from the place and Broad St. is at a stand-still. The reason? Some crazay-ass hobo ran out in front of a cop and was attempting to report a crime, or he was rambling some non-sensical bull shit. I guarantee it was the second one.

Traffic was slow because the cop had turned sideways and blocked a bunch of lanes instead of doing what any sane person would do. Run over the hobo, thereby killing him and making Richmond a slightly better place.

Calm down. I'm just as against homelessness as the next guy. Hell depending on my mood I sometimes give a bum a buck or two. Yeah I'm basically a philanthropist, that is when I'm not a full-on-rapist or a philanderer. (Always Sunny reference)

Where was I going with this?

Oh, right, nowhere. I just don't like the crazy bums. Well, I mean, I enjoy laughing at some of them, especially when they dance or if their begging sign is particularly witty. I just don't like it when I get pestered for money because "they just ran out of gas up the street". In my experience hobos rarely own cars.

On a related note, just how poor do you have to be to go to a soup kitchen? Do you need proof of your poverty? And what's the deal with food stamps? I've heard good things.

Okay my rant is complete. Just wanted to make sure that I'm still on the waiting list for Hell.

* I bet I can.

Friday, January 1, 2010

AM Radio Still Exists

I was on WRVA 1140 with my boss from Style Weekly and the incomparable Juan Muthafuckin Conde this morning. Juan is a news anchor here in Richmond and formerly the drivetime DJ for Power 92. Oh and he's my hero.

It's remarkable because it was 8:15 AM on New Year's Day. I was still up from bartending and they had just gotten up. Unfortunately my voice sounded like I smoked a carton of Reds and they completely stone-walled me so I couldn't drop any pertinent questions for Juan. Trust me, I was hammered, I had some shit on deck. Things were about to get real... but my voice kept cracking. God damn puberty.

Who really cares? It's AM radio, on New Year's Day morning. I could've had my girlfriend on a sybian in the background and the only people that would've heard were Juan, my boss and me. Either way, very funny, very surreal radio.

Check it out: I'm on at the 7 minute mark.

G'night. Happy New Year.