Thursday, March 13, 2008

fat blog with a fade

maybe it's just a phase but i'm totally down with the homeless...right now. i'm making a vow to give whatever spare change i have to every single bum i see standing on a corner. granted, i won't cross the street to get to them but if i'm at a stop light, in a drive-thru or going on an afternoon stroll they'll get some coin. and, as an apatheist, it's very rewarding because i don't have to share my charity and good will with my god(s). it's all me - my own goodness completely pure and unadulterated and, if you're keeping score at home, this makes me a better person than someone who does it because jesus told them to. also, i think we should have more shanty towns and/or hoovervilles. i went for a walk yesterday and passed through an underpass with a few mattresses laid out along with a few other sundry woe-be-gone flotsam and/or jetsam. i'm down with that, the homeless aren't hurting anything. i mean, if i see them on my street that's a different story...but still.

anyone who utters the phrase, "i have no regrets," is either lying, a moron or both. i have at least 20 things a day where i say to myself, "geez, i probably shouldn't have said/done that." i still dwell on things that i said or did all the way back to my junior high days. i regret blogging this blog!!! this doesn't necessarily make me a stronger person but it definitely makes me funnier or, at the very least, more interesting. i remember back in my junior college days (my salad days) we were talking about this very subject in class and i got into an argument with a fat mexican dude with a fade (not racist) who said "i have no regrets" and i went cRaZY!!! i said "you have NO regrets? NONE. NOTHING. you've never regretted ordering the egg salad in lieu of the tuna salad?" "no regrets..." i immediately regretted raising my hand and going toe-to-toe with the fat mexican dude with a fade.

i don't know if people realize how gross urinals are. depending on your trajectory and/or force, you'll be sprayed with a good (bad?) amount of residual urine as you pee. the trick is you have to flush the urinal before peeing so at least you're only getting your own urine. this is especially evident, and refreshing, when wearing shorts or opened toe shoes. oh, and don't get me started on the quagmires and conundrums that present themselves when using a urinal while you have a boner - game over. why don't they just get rid of the urinals in favor of a few more traditional toilets? does it cost more money, take up more space? and no, sitting down to pee is not an option. and, i refuse to use a urinal without the privacy walls because i prefer leaving the bathroom feeling better rather than worse :(

so, i'm going to vegas this weekend. i already know how my typical night will play out: we'll get drunk in our room off of alcohol we brought ourselves (because we're fiscally responsible drinkers), wait in line to get into a club for an hour at which point i'll immediately sober up, get frisked by a fat mexican with a fade (that's called a callback in the comedy world, thank you) upon entering the club i'll be raped of three of my six senses, i'll hit on a few girls and get made fun of (seriously, would it kill a girl to just ignore me or simply say "no thanks;" why do they always feel the need to ridicule and emasculate me?), i'll leave the club alone because i can't hang, try my hand at some blackjack where i proceed to blow a few hundred dollars, get bloated on free-watered down drinks all while the asian, mumbling dealer also makes fun of me, i'll then walk back to the room in my dress shoes which kill my feet because i'm too cheap to pay for a cab, then i'll scour the halls of the hotel looking for discarded, half eaten room service and then i'll attempt to play solitaire in my room of six guys.

ba dum BLOG!!!


Kelly said...


Courtney Smith said...

you have 6 senses?

popinjay07 said...

no, thanks for pointing out my mistakes...

M-Flow said...

In all fairness, at least your Vegas plans include getting to the club instead of puking on your cabbie, Achmed, then blacking out and coming to standing in a bush behind a bank on the opposite side of town without your shirt and finding you are miles away from anything that resembles a casino or club.

Then again, we both end up walking home.