Sober X is BACK!!!

At least for the time being. My man Chris over at Sober X recently sent me an email saying that they stumbled across a previously unknown supply a distributor was in possession of. What does this mean to you and me?

In short, it means more drunken weekdays, that’s what. For most of you, if you want some, let me know; I’ll be placing an order soon and I’ll get you soon. It will be $8 for pack of 6, which normally used to sell at $12. So I like to throw two on, which is $3. That’s only the price of 2.5 beers at the Triple Crown, or like a third of a beer at BW3s.

Maybe it’s good time, maybe its fate, but my buddy Steve is throwing a Beer Olympics this Saturday. Yours truly along with a healthy dose of Sober X will be on hand for the festivities. We’ll keep you in the know.

DC Night 3

OK, so I finally found a decent dude amonst the tards in this weeklong seminar. He and I decided to go out and leisurely tie one on. So, I had overhead that there’s a fantastic brew pub nearby. 15 minutes my beloved Dogfish Head 90min. IPA was available on tap (served outta brandy snifter of course). Sorry for the shitty picture.

So we hung out there for a while, and during so I seen quite possibly the most hilarious mustache ever.

Come on man, that’s fucking awesome. Anyways so we chilled there for a while. Now Jim is from St. Louis, and there they know how to make an exit. Jim says that in St. Louis you don’t just leave a bar, you take your shirt off and let them kick you out.

Simply crepuscular.

So we headed back to the hotel, swinging through a drive-through-less McDonalds on the way (wtf mate?). So we got back and then headed to the hotel bar for a quick drink while we finished our food. For some reason I decided to take a picture of this entirely way too gay guy sitting at the bar.

of course we couldn’t just leave the hotel bar though….

DC – Night 2

After a disasterous first night, I needed to venture out into the (which) city to try something local. Torn between traditional seafood and sushi, I settled on sushi and started Googling to find the best around. I had it narrowed down between three places. One of them, was under renovation, and wouldn’t be complete until later this month. The other two…were in the same building, on top of each other.

Well that made things easier. Downstairs, Makoto, is supposedly the best in town. It’s quite expensive, but who’s keeping track of things when on per diem. Upstairs, Kotobuki, a quant place with less selection, but all the freshness, and all the quality.

Sidenote: If you’re around the DC area and want to grab dinner, and are thinking about going at 6, wait an hour. The traffic at 6 was about 10x thicker than at 7.

Anyways, so I drove past the CIA and over some canal. I found a place to park and walked up. Unfortunately Makoto was full, so I ventured upstairs.

Now don’t get me wrong, Kotobuki isn’t supposed to be worse, it’s just that the downstairs place is more eccentric, more innovation. This is fine since my idea of perfect sushi is just a slice of toro slapped on my hand.

I had originally wanted omakase, but they didn’t do it there. I settled on the Sushi Deluxe dinner. Along came the standard Miso Soup, accompanying my sushi. The dinner consisted of a few reverse (Califorina style) rolls, 2 BBQ rolls, 2 each of salmon, Mackerel (Flounder maybe), tuna, and 1 whitefish.

I had high expectations going into this dinner, since my favorite sushi place in Toledo is also called Kotobuki (means celebration, no relation). The Miso soup was surprisingly bland, with anemic looking tofu, seaweed, and green onion. Luckily my meal wasn’t to be cooked at all, so the entree came exceedingly fast.

The Calfornia-style rolls were marginal at best. For some reason the Nori was extremely tough. The BBQ pieces, while not at all traditional, were very good. I was pleasantly surprised at them. The traditional nigiri was good, but not great. In fact, it’s not even Kotobuki Toledo good.

The sushi tonight was good, but for some reason I’m still expecting more. I’m a stone’s throw away from the ocean, so why is it that hard to get good food, let alone seafood. Tomorrow I venture (maybe even further) into the city to try and find the best seafood I can get my hands on.

I want some crab and oysters and fish and stuff.

DC Dinner – Night 1

So the first night here I decided just to stay in the hotel. I was kind of tired, I’ll be venturing out tomorrow. Anyways, I headed down to the bar here at the Sheraton Inn at Tyson’s Corner and enjoyed a couple of Gin and Tonics and ate dinner. I started off the the Tomato Bisque

The soup was absolutely fantastic. While served with overly stale rolls, the bisque was creamy and full of flavor. It was probably the best tomato soup I’ve ever had. Then I went with a simple burger and fries.

The fries were perfectly cooked, seasoned well, and quite delicious. Unfortunately, the fries and soup were the high point of the meal. The burger as delivered with lettuce and tomato, and a toated bun. While my order was mid-well, the burger came out quite done, and quite charred. Chedder cheese was sloppily melted atop. Unfortunately there is this fascination with enormous burgers. I’m not sure where it started, but at some point a 1/4 lb. burger just wasn’t enough. We pushed the envelope to 1/3 lb and even 1/2 lb burgers. Seriously? Do we realy need burgers this big?

While this burger was at least 1/3 lb, the meat to vegatables/bread ratio is just too high. Regardless of the size of the sandwich, the main pitfall was the cooking. The burger was charred entirely too much, even to the point that I couldn’t finish it.

Come on man….it’s a burger. It’s not hard to cook a burger. I give my $50 (fucking hotels) a C-.

There will be some bomb ass shit tomorrow, I guarantee it.

Roomate [sic] Chronicles – Part IV

The last part we learned how easy it can be to misplace a shoe. On a side note, it may be rather insensitive and quite racist, but holy shit black people like their orange drink.

Now, it’s not all bad living with a piece of shit. You can learn a lot of things. I can gleefully say that I learned about freaking black and milds. You see, you freak a black and mild so

Man, so dat shit hits harder. Man, you can’t have that ignant ass cancer paper in dat shit.

So, you pull the cigar out of the plastic wrapping while you tap the tobacco out. When its all out, you twist the plastic tip off. Then remove that ignant ass filter paper on the inside. Now put the plastic tip back on and fill the cigar back up with the tobacco. Make sure to pack that shit in so it doesn’t burn too fast.

Now, if you’re a real baller, you put a flame to the plastic tip and stretch it out. To be honest, I’m sure what that does, but it does make you look like an asshat.

Anyways, it’s funny what a disgusting slob will or won’t notice. So after we threw away a single shoe, we decided that we would push the limit to see what else we could throw away.

So, playing on his inability to wear clean clothes, we figured that would be the starting point. You know that bar in your closest. You know the one that holds the hangers, that hold your clothes. Now, imagine that wooden bar gone. Yes, we threw away his ability to hang up clothes.

Man dog, I think something’s wrong with my closest thing. I think there’s supposed to be something here.

So, I’m thinking one way to keep this gelatinus sphere of headcheese away from the apartment is to ruin his sleep. So we broke his bed. Yet he still slept there. Then we threw his sheets away, and he slept on the mattress.

So we peed on it.

Gay Joe Three-Way

What happens when 8 months of sexual tension meet two more guys as hairy and sweaty as yourself.

Notice the guy on the bottom. That is pain on his face. I’ll let you figure out what from.

Wright State Cheerleaders

FATTEST EVER!!!!

Roomate Chronicles – Part III

I just realized that I’m misspelling roommate by the way. Anyways, last time we had started the breaking point, the point of no return to which the hatred really started building.

They say its the little things that count in life. So when Chaz started trying to sell weed out of our apartment, it was that tiny straw that broke the camels back.

Unfortunately, you cannot (and I can’t stress this enough) be both a pot seller, and a pot head. So when a pot head goes and buys an ounce of weed for the purpose of selling it, often times very little makes it past his own fat ass.

Now, from living with a few pot heads in my day, there’s one thing that I can conclusively say: People that are high are quite fun to fuck with. People that are high that you contempuously dispise are incredibly fun to fuck with.

The first things to deal with were those fucking shoes. You see, the only clothes Chaz owned were about 4 solid colored sweat suits, and those 4 ‘per’ of Air Force Ones. He had them lined up in the living room for all to see. He would match the shoes with whatever color sweats he had on that day (typically whatever he wore the day before), then like an overplump penguin, waddle outside, each step a mile of effort.

So you can image the joy I had when I took a single orange shoe and threw it in the dumpster outside.

Hey dog…you seen a shoe anywhere? Man, I can’t remember where I left that shoe.

Who throws a shoe? I mean seriously. If you can imagine a 350lb sloth moving around our 100 sq. ft. apartment everyday looking for his shoe, then you imagine what our first victory felt like.

The next decisive victory was slightly more apparent….

Roomate Chronicles – Part II

So the last time we discussed the proper way to blow textbook money: multiple pair (per) Air Force Ones…yes, just like the song.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I learnt a lot.

“Man dog, niggaz don’t swim.”

The word ignant…apparently a botched up version of ignorant, but can be used for anything.

“It’s cuz I’m black ain’t it,” is an excuse for almost anything.

“Deucing a bitch” means tag teaming a hoe. It’s even proper etiquitte to offer your room mates if they want to come and, “deuce a bitch wit you.”

…among other things. Some of the breaking points happened during showertime. Yes that time where we make ourselves clean. The only problem was that Chaz rarely showered. In fact, he didnt’ even own shampoo or soap. On the rare ocassion that he did shower, he started using me and my room mate’s shower stuff. Normally I wouldn’t have a problem, but to imagine this fat gorilla wiping his weed-smelling hair body with my appliance of self-cleanliness was appalling.

So we started keeping our shower stuff in our own rooms. He countered by sneaking into our rooms and taking it.

When he started trying to sell weed out of the apartment, enough was enough. 

Hilarity ensues next time.

Roomate Chronicles

I really have nothing, so I’ll spend a few posts talking about a former room mate. My freshman year in college there was no room in the dorms, so I “lucked” out and was placed into an off-campus apartment. One of my room mates I ended up living with for years after, and was in his wedding party. The other guy referred to himself as, “dis nigga Chaz”, and needless to stay, many stories insued.

The first morning we after we all moved in was sweet. Dis nigga Chaz woke me up at 8:00am to play NCAA Football. I was pleasantly surprised to eventually find out that he had overwritten my saved files, changed the names of the Miami Hurricane’s players to rappers he liked, and jacked all of their ratings to 99.

You see, dig nigga Chaz thought that he would be a lawyer. So, to start school, he decided that he was pre-law. The funny thing is that pre-law, or pre-med is typically only a designation. You still need a major most times. You can major in Political Science, or a lot of other things, but pre-law is not a major here at the University of Toledo.

So you can image how funny it was when he would get a letter in the mail stating that he needed to choose a major. I heard this on a nearly daily basis.

Man, whachu mean I need I need to pick a major? I told ya’ll I was pre-law motha fucka.

Leading up to school, Chaz decided he would use his money to buy weed instead of books. Thankfully, he auntie gave him a few hundred dollars to go buy books.

You can image my surprise when he walked back into the apartment with four pairs of Nike Air Force Ones….different colors to go with all the different sweats he would wear.

More to come…oh God there’s more.