Vegas Baby, Vegas

Well, I leave tomorrow for Las Vegas. I’m spending an entire week in Sin City, and to be honest, I’m a little nervous. Not about catching Herpes from a 16 year old Brazilian cross dresser, but the flight itself. You see, I’ve never flown, and the idea alone is kind of crazy.

I’m going to take off in a 400 TON piece of metal, then fly at over 500 mph, close to the speed of sound.  The problem is that I actually do research in Fluid Dynamics, and I know that all we have are THEORIES for why planes fly. Sure they fly, and that’s great, but we don’t really know exactly how we get all the lift we do.

If there are ANY posts about the equal transit theory, they will be immediately deleted.

So, anyways, I’m a little nervous, if anyone has any advice to get me through this…I’d appreciate it. However, I do have the inside track, my companions know exactly where to sit so that we can see the Grand Canyon and the strip as we fly over. So, I should have some sweet pics.

Anyways, time to finish packing, and I’m off.

Storytime – New Year’s Eve (2005)

Ah, the infamous posse story. Let’s begin.

A few of us were invited over to this party behind engineering for new year’s. It was (but not limited to) myself, Buddy, Mike Rhoad, and a few others. So we get there, head down to the basement, grab a beer and start socializing. The people that we were with didn’t really know anyone, and being lame asses wanted to go. Mike, Buddy and I were having a blast and were just like, “Fuck you, this is a great party, we’re staying.” So they left us. In fact this might have been the only time I’ve played this hockey game. I don’t remember the particulars, but I do remember drinking the entire time someone could say, “Gooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllll.”

The three of us decide to head outside to grab some fresh air, I think Mike wanted a cig as well. So, we’re standing out back, at these people’s tiki bar, just chilling. Suddenly, two girls, dressed for clubbing come outside walking around the house. Realizing that it’s like fucking 10 degrees outside, and these chicks are dressed like hoochies, Buddy says:

You guys look cold.

A statement that would change our lives. This is where things get both ironic, and ugly as shit. It turns out that they are two friends, and one is leading the other to puke. Who knew? The ironic thing is that the girl who was puking, Mike R. had actually just starting kind of seeing. So, for some dumb ass reason, the non-puking girl take’s offense to what Buddy says, and replies:

Haven’t you ever fucking seen a girl puking? Who the fuck do you think you are?

oooo…..kkkk…Someone had a little too much sparking wine.  So, the girls go back inside and man that was weird; but everything’s cool  now right? Oh God no. The puking girl’s sister comes out, and all hell breaks loose.

Who do you think you are you fucking faggot. So she was sick, what’s the big fucking deal.

She walks over to Buddy and just starts throwing punches. The hilarious thing is that Buddy won’t hit her back, but to stop the fists from hitting him in the face, he’s trying to grab her wrist..

Don’t you fucking touch me you faggot, you fucking piece of shit, DONT TOUCH ME!!

Buddy finally pushes this bitch away from him, of course she falls down and starts BALLING. I mean, this bitch was sobbing. I tell Buddy to walk away, go to his car or something.

So these girls go inside, and Mike and I are just stunned. What the hell just happened. Maybe things will cool down…oh God no.

The girls go inside and start telling all of the guys that she went outside to talk to Buddy, and Buddy just started hitting her. So, this group of real tough guys (probably frat guys) come outside and start a posse. A fucking real posse, I swear it.

That’s fucking bullshit, some guy hitting her like that. We gotta find this fucking faggot.

For some reason, all night long he was being referred to as a fucking faggot, not real sure why. Anyways, these drunk dumbasses are so pissed off, that one of them punches the aluminum garage door and starts bleeding all over the place.

Then the telephone game starts, with retarded people. Each time someone tells the story, it gets much worse. By the end of it, I swear they were telling people that Buddy grabbed this chicks tit, punched her to the ground, then kicked her. TRUE STORY.

Mike by this time is gone, he doesn’t want to associate with all this shit, being that it all started over the girl he’s trying to bang. Fortunately this other guy seen the whole thing to; some big motherfucker, an offensive lineman at some other school. We’re trying to tell people that these people are fucking morons.

Morons don’t listen to reason, they only listen to other morons. So, this probably 10-12 guy posse takes off, looking for Buddy, wanting to beat the shit out of him. They head away from the house, JUST as I see Buddy walking back from the other direction. I tell him to turn around, we get in his car and drive off…to another party.

No one eventually got their ass beat, but this story just goes to show you how ridiculous girls are. I mean seriously, what the fuck do they put in tampons that makes you so fucking crazy?

Anyways, that’s the official New Year’s Eve story, which is now digital, and can be passed down many generations.

Speak Your Mind

By KARYL CICANESE

Everyone has become politically correct. Everywhere I go, people are falling all over themselves trying not to offend by changing traditions and practices and omitting words from our vocabulary.

Who am I to say what should and shouldn’t be used? However, I have the opinion that if people speak their mind all of the time, it gives me a better idea of who they are. I appreciate candor. I want people to tell me what they are thinking, and I like it when they tell me what they think of me. I respect someone who has the courage to tell it like it is. I give others the same courtesy.

Of course, it doesn’t change the fact I don’t care what people think of me as long as I’m comfortable with myself, but it’s a nice gesture.

We all want the right to assemble. We all want the right to disagree. We don’t want to be told what we can and cannot say. We have come to a point where we want to say the F-word during prime-time television, but we get upset if someone says the word fat. They are not fat, they are overweight, or obese. How does the word obese cushion the blow?I am not white, I am Caucasian. What are you trying to say? I look like a piece of paper, a paper plate or a snowflake? Now you are going to learn about tort laws.

Everyone needs to calm down. Changing our vocabulary isn’t solving the problem. Whereas the problem used to be insensitive people, the new problem is overly sensitive people. Throughout my life people have said things that have hurt my feelings; however, nowhere in the constitution does it say I have the right to not have my feelings hurt. Life just doesn’t work that way.

I take my lumps and on occasion I found some criticism to be valid. They used to call it constructive criticism, and a lot of us improved ourselves, our game, or our abilities because of it.

Now, if Billy doesn’t receive a trophy for playing a less-than-exemplary game, it’s discrimination. If Suzy doesn’t graduate with her class because she had too many dates, and, well, we’re back to tort law. You better not tell her she failed, but instead that she performed below her ability.

We are guaranteed the right to free speech under The First Amendment — at least for now.

Though there are words that I won’t say offend me, but rather say hurt my ears, I don’t want them stricken from our vocabulary. I can just choose not to use them, or choose not to be around others who do. However sensitive my ears may be, it has become less important to me than my right to speak my mind.

It is a slippery slope we are now sliding down. I have never stood on a street corner and protested anything, mainly because I don’t see where it has a high probability of accomplishing anything, except possibly the flu. But if you have a grievance with someone, or something, and wish to spend a day standing out in the cold to get your point across, I would hate to see the day come when that was no longer an option.

Here is the problem: That day is coming. It has already been set in motion. We are becoming sheep following the pack. We look to others to lead the way and tell us what to say and think.

The worst part about it is we are not being herded by big brother as much as we censor each other. Though the government plays a part, unfortunately, I think they are taking their cue from us. We are the ones complaining.

When did we all become so sensitive? What happened to “call me anything, except late for dinner?”

Quote of the Day

When entering a room for an orgy, try to be the first guy in the room and keep your back to a wall.

Quote of the Day

I really had to take a shit. Luckily I was in the shower.

Hand Sanitizer

OK, I know that a lot of you love your hand sanitizer (I’m talking to you women). In general, I don’t really have a problem with them…except for their use at my place of work.

We have them in the bathrooms, and I see people using them instead of washing their hands. Um…what the shit?

Hmmm (I think to myself), I see that I partially shit on my hand, luckily the hand sanitizer will clean the shit on my hands. Or maybe I’ll just pee on my hands to wash the shit off, then hand sanitize the urine to sterile.

Wash your hands with soap and water people.

My First Rant!!!

Ok, finally I have something to rant about that I feel is actually blog worthy……

So, I’m driving east on Dorr street today near Reynolds when I find myself swerving into another lane to avoid hitting someone. (I’m sorry I don’t have a picture, I was too busy trying to avoid committing vehicular homicide.) I know what your thinking; he was avoiding hitting someone jaywalking across the street. NO!! I was avoiding hitting someone walking with traffic directly in the center of the fucking lane! Now maybe I could dismiss something like this if it was on a side street in a residential area but this was no side street. He was walking on a 4 lane street with a 50 mph speed limit. I was one of many who just missed this fuckhead. I couldn’t believe what I saw. He wasn’t walking near the curb, he was literally in the center of the fucking lane. This assclown either had a death wish or he was looking for an easy way to get a good nights rest in a warm bed after he got smoked by someone who didn’t see him soon enough. He had to have known what he was doing too. He wasn’t blind or deaf, he wasn’t retarded, and he wasn’t too old to have no idea whats going on. Or maybe he just didn’t want to walk on the sidewalk because of the 1/4″ of snow.

I don’t know. I was just really pissed off for about an hour after this.

The Future of Women’s Sunglasses

Seriously?

So, struggling for dinner ideas last night, I realized I hadn’t had chicken in a while. So, I defrosted some chicken, sliced it up, and threw it on some wooden skewers. After a quick oil/salt/pepper, I started the potatoes. My inspiration: BW3s naked wings with buffalo chips. I go out to heat up the g….

What the fuck?!?!? Someone stole my mother fucking propane tank.

Who the fuck steals a propane tank? Is this the society that we live in? Yes I know blacksentinel, it’s my fault for being white that my propane tank got stolen. What the fuck, you’re going to risk possible jail time so you can exchange a tank rather than buy a new one….

Fucking ruined my night.

One of the Larger Beers I’ve Had

Friday night, we went out with JP and his fiance (man that’s still rough saying). So after a dinner full of margaritas, we headed to Club Bijou, which is where Bootleggers used to be. Man I’m getting old, I had no idea they moved.

We go there to check out Josh’s friend’s band. We have plenty of time to kill when we find out that they have these baller ass beer tubes, 100oz each.

Josh goes over to get one, only to find out they are all out…but they have a 250oz one! Ha. So we drink that…then another.

Nothing real important here, just figured we’d let you know where you can get 250oz. of beer for only $23. That’s about a buck a beer, unheard of for a bar.

Don’t mind the dumb ass smiles.

Hi Stacey.