Monday, July 21, 2008

ba dum BLOGger has no "game" vol. 3

before getting started i feel compelled to share a therapeutic breakthrough i had recently that relates to ba dum BLOGger having no "game." no, not an actual therapy session where i lay on a couch and rap with a bearded hack in a tweed jacket with elbow patches but where i just turn out the lights, lay on my bed and quietly berate myself. i was trying to figure out what created the loser whose blog you are reading today and i thought back to my formative years and who my male influences were. i believe it was about the sixth grade (eleven-years-old) when i began watching syndicated episodes of "seinfeld" (this would last for the next seven or eight years). this is when i met my most favourite fictional character of all-time: george costanza. now, i didn't just think george was the most hilarious creature i've ever seen but i wanted to be him. i didn't care that he was a short, stalky bald man of questionable repute who couldn't keep a woman, had no career, was passive aggressive, a compulsive liar and found himself on the wrong end of one precarious situation after the other - all i cared about was that he was funny and if i could be as big a loser as him i'd be funny too. so, to make a long blog short, it's happened. i've successfully, subconsciously evoked the spirit of george costanza; i stopped growing far before my genetic potential, i made myself bald, i have a crappy job, i can't get/keep a woman and i secretly relish every little failure in the name of spinning it towards a humourous and/or whimsical conclusion "for i am costanza, lord of the idiots."

so, as i was leaving a friend's place in burbank the other night, my pal "jerry" text messaged me and told me to meet him at some bar in hollywood. i learned through a series of text messages that he was with his gf and her "cute," very drunk roommate. even though the reason i was leaving my friend's place in burbank was because my cat allergies had sealed my left eye shut, "cute, very drunk roommate" was all i needed to hear to bust a u-turn and head out to hollywood. so, here i am rolling into a grungy dive bar at 1am in my shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops. it's pitch black, loud and everyone but me is hammered. first things first: i gots to go peepee. so i make my way to the can and the second i walk in i can feel my feet get wet from indistinguishable liquid. therefore, i did not venture in any further and did not go peepee for fear of disease.

it took me a bit to find "jerry" and his party because of the danky, dinny goodness of the bar. i finally found him and was introduced to said "cute, very drunk roommate" (we'll call her "laverne" and she wasn't that "cute" but was very drunk) and another girl who was chubby and not previously mentioned in text messages because when telling a story or enticing a friend to roll into a bar at 1am, chubby girls are often omitted, their names forgotten and ironically slip through the cracks altogether. i know, that sounds horrible and it is horrible but it's true; i'm sure girls leave me out of their stories too, so whateva.' anyway, i open up the art of conversation by talking about the wet bathroom floor, my flip-flops and the fact that i may now have hepatitis c... as soon as i said this i realized it was a bad opener but "laverne" shot back with a "that's funny because i have hepatitis a." then i turned to "chub club" and said "now if we can get you hepatitis b then we'd have something..." lolzzz all around!!!

once introductions and lolzzz were out of the way i read the room and realized i was invited as a mere diversion so "jerry" and his girl could get more time alone, which is fine. i then decided to be a big shot and buy a round of drinks for everyone. once i dropped $30, "laverne" and "chub club" decided they wanted to dance. now, i'm a pigeon toed, stiff white guy so dancing always has been and always will be a difficult enterprise for me to undertake; especially when i'm stone cold sober, holding a drink in one hand, am wearing flip flops and still need to go peepee. so, i attempt to dance and can clearly see "laverne's" interest start to wane while i couldn't be less cognizant of "chub club's" chub and/or club (please, "chub club" was and is a perfectly nice lady and i do feel horrible but i just can't pass up the opportunity to blog "chub club" over and over again).

i then decided that i needed to take a break from making an ass out of myself on the dance floor and went to get another drink because when one needs to go peepee and can't, getting another drink is two thumbs up. so, i returned and "chub club" pulls me aside and says "you know what 'laverne' said when you left? she said 'good, pee boy (i guess i was complaining to the point where i had earned a nickname for myself) got the hint and took off." this would hit a normal person who has a modicum of self-esteem hard but for me... it aint no thang but a chicken wang. so, i decide to give "laverne" the cold shoulder and get to dancin' exclusively with "chub club." this goes on for a while until "jerry" pulls me aside and tells me that "chub club" told his girl that she's into me. wait, so did "laverne" really say what "chub club" said she said or did "chub club" pull a power move to kill the competition? i have to say though, if "chub club's" doings were less than above board, i can respect that... not to the point of throwing her a literal or figurative bone, but impressive nonetheless.

so, now i decide to big league both ladies and begin dancing exclusively with "jerry" in a homoerotic manner because i went to all-boys hs and this is what is funny and fun to me. the night ends and we are all ushered outside where, it had been so dark inside, i actually got a better look at "laverne" in the moonlight and realized she really isn't that "cute" but still "very drunk." "laverne" then drunkenly puts her arms around me and starts to try and pull me into her, i temporarily resist because "pee boy" does gots game but, after letting her squirm for a bit, i acquiesce and lean into her non-cuteness only for her to push me away and coquettishly giggle. well, that was about it for "pee boy" because, after a few drinks, i now really, really had to go peepee... plus, visions of giving "laverne" the old golden shower were making like sugar plums and dancing in my head. so i bid everyone adieu and scurried the two blocks back to my car where i found a chain link fence to peepee on and through (important to find something you can actually peepee through, especially when you are wearing flip-flops). once “no longer needing to pee boy” returned home, i bit into a block of cheese like it was an apple and self-gratified myself to “vogue” magazine - coooo-stan-za!!!

ba dum BLOG!!!


"Cosmo" said...

I prefer peeing in the back of an alley somewhere in Santa Monica...

lee said...

george costanza is a faggot.