The Medium Bus

I moved

2010-03-12T05:11:00.000-08:00

I've moved here. So go there and prepare to be mildly entertained for a minute or so at a time.

It's been awhile

2009-07-30T01:59:00.000-07:00

Hey there, blog friends! Wow, it's been awhile since I've been here. I guess it's time I dust off the ol' e-pen.

It appears I've finally ~~tricked~~ convinced a girl to go on a date with me. An actual girl this time and not like that one I made out of cans. Ah, Candice. I miss your aluminumy glow. We were having a great time until that homeless man stole you away and sold you for $1.37. Sigh...what could have been.

The girl at work and I have been talking some, and the other night I just decided to say f it and ask her out, fully expecting her to say no because I have crazy awesome self-esteem like that. When she smiled and said yes, I actually said, "yeah?"

Groucho Marx once said, "I don't care to belong to a club that accepts people like me as members." (might be a little off on the wording there. Looking over a Groucho Marx quotations page, I learned that he was one corny son of a bitch. Moving on...) I kinda feel the same way about girls. I wanted to be like, "wait a minute...what's your deal, lady?" but I didn't. I guess it's not so hard to believe that somebody would enjoy my company (haha...I'm kidding.) So I'm convinced she's a kidney thief. It's worth the risk, though. She's pretty cute and I do have two kidneys. I probably only need one anyway. I'm just being selfish using both of them.

So we're going out this Saturday. I'm going to cook dinner (more on that in a minute) and we're going to go watch "Funny People." I was thinking about the movie first, but I don't really want to rely on Adam Sandler to set the tone for the evening. She asked me what it was about. I said, "It looks pretty funny. Adam Sandler and Seth Rogen are in it. They're stand up comedians or something. Then Adam Sandler gets cancer!" She said, "that does sound funny." If it was sarcasm, that's great. I love sarcasm. If it wasn't sarcasm, that's great too because she laughs at cancer jokes. If she laughs at that, I should be ok.

Back to the dinner thing. Some of my friends at work are telling me that cooking dinner here is a bad idea. They say she's not going to feel comfortable. I don't know about all this. I see girls as a case by case kinda thing and not some group of people who all like the same thing. I asked her the other night if it was ok if I cooked something. Then I made a joke about how I'm an amazing cook (not a joke at all). She laughed and said she had no problem with that. Last night I asked her again if she would be uncomfortable hanging out at my apartment. She again assured me that it was fine. I could look deeper into this and get into the whole "she's just being nice and doesn't really want to say anything" thing, but if I do this, I'm going to second-guess myself into a whole new world of uneasiness. So I'm just going to go with it. If I fuck it up, it'll be my fault and lesson learned.

So here's the bad (or potential bad) of this whole thing:

1. I'm moving back to Hardin in a few weeks. It's a long story and I don't really want to go, but it involves my mom taking care of my sick grandma in Nebraska and me moving home rent free to help out on some bills. Bills that are partially mine anyway. So there's that. Hardin is about two hours away from here. I'm usually too lazy to take the garbage to the dumpster that is 40 yards away, so if things end up working out, a long-distance thing probably won't.

2. She's 20. I'm 27. That might be a problem. That might not be a problem. It might be a problem mainly because she can't drink yet. Maybe she does. I dunno. Anyway, I DO...A LOT. It's my "make me interesting" juice. So I'm going to have to do all this completely sober. Ugh...the thought of that makes me cringe. At least I won't end up accidentally freezing wine again. This especially hurts because today I heard about dropping a shot of Baileys into a glass of crown and coke. Sigh...that sounds great.

3. She's Mormon. I don't know how much Mormon, but her family is. I'm not saying this is a problem either. It's just that all I know about Mormons is what I've seen on South Park, and if any of that is true, they seem pretty ridiculous. I don't know where I am religiously, but if that's a problem for her, then it's definitely not going to work. Religion is on hold for me at the moment until I figure some things out.

4. I'm going to have to clean my apartment. I've been living by myself for the better part of two months, and my standards of cleanliness are far below those of normal people. I'm actually surprised I haven't caught some form of fungus-born disease. It's so bad that the dishes in the sink have gone from smelling really bad to not smelling at all. I've outlasted the life cycle of whatever bacteria was living on the plates. And my car! I just thought about that. I'm gonna have to clean that shit too.

The good:

1. She's a girl who seems interested in me. That's pretty much all I care about. Ha! Also, she has her nose pierced and I think that's pretty cute.

So that about sums it up. Let me know what you think about the dinner idea and possible menu options.

I'm going to try to write more, but I don't know how that's going to work out. Until next time!

That time Cory got married

2009-04-05T23:12:00.000-07:00

Cory and Stacy got married last weekend, and being the wonderful people they are, they decided to take a few of us on their honeymoon cruise with them. To say that I had a great time is an understatement. I think this cruise gave me a temporary new lease on life. Good things are going to happen for me eventually. I've just got to be patient.

I'm sure there are more pictures somewhere, but people don't let me borrow their cameras because I'm too awesome. I would have brought mine, but I haven't seen it in about a year and I'm way too lazy to look for it.

Cory and Stacy. Aww...aren't they adorable? Through the window behind them is the remnants of a city once known as Galveston.

This is apparently our standard wedding picture.

Six handsome guys. Too bad Richard and his "Hey, look at me!" tie draw the attention away from the rest of us.

What's up, ladies? (After this picture and a picture I took of my crotch during the wedding ceremony, I wasn't allowed to use cameras anymore. Hence the lack of hilarious pictures.)

Me and my life jacket and ocean rape whistle. You can't be too careful...Marquis Cooper.

Did you know they had bars on cruise ships? Crazy!

I'm sorta the Tiger Woods of air hockey except I'm white and I lose a lot.

Some pirates or something. I don't even know where this is.

This was in Jamaica. Apparently this gentleman was marooned there about 125 years ago. Speaking of Jamaica, what a shithole! Seriously. The depths of shitholeness there are indescribable. Everybody is super pushy and they all drive like fucktards. About 100 yards past where I was offered drugs for the first time, I saw a man creepily clutching a bible while walking past us. He had a huge butcher knife in his pocket. We later saw him in handcuffs with some friendly Jamaican police. Pretty solid place.

Drinking some red stripe on the beach in Jamaica. Hooray beer...boo Jamaica.

There was a place on the ship called the Aquarium Bar. I had almost a $400 bar tab. I'm pretty amazing like that. Not sure what I'm doing in this picture other than being drunk. Jim and Me. I think that's Grand Cayman behind us. I'm not sure. I didn't make it off the boat that day. I had a super sunburn and decided to alleviate the pain with about 982739847234 "yak" and cokes. Mexicans say stuff funny.

Drunk again. And unintentionally looking like I'm about to blow Jon. I promise unintentionally, Mom.

Cozumel. We were on a private beach with free drinks and I thought the girl to my left was super hot and amazing. It was the perfect storm of awkwardness and also the birthplace of the worst sunburn I've ever had. A sunburn that turned my right leg into a giant blister like a napalmed Vietnamese kid. After a whole lot of Jack, I sat directly in the sun and attempted to entertain her for about 2 hours. I gave her a seashell that looked like a teddy graham. I'm not sure how that didn't immediately win her heart.

Cory in Cozumel holding a can that's slightly heavier than he is.

A bootleg ipod I won in the arcade for being the greatest digital block stacker IN THE WORLD, MOTHERFUCKERS!

Drunkenly blow drying Stacy's hair. Why? Who knows.

Other points of interest:

While holding her hand, I told a Romanian woman that I thought she was the "most beautiful woman I had ever seen." She was a customer service rep. In her adorable broken, accented English, she said it was the nicest thing anybody had ever said to her. She also looked like she was 50/50 on whether or not to call security. But she didn't. That equals a win in my book.
Played three games of dodge ball which totaled about 45 seconds. We sucked pretty bad.
I bought a sweet wooden cat head in Mexico because it seemed like the right thing to do.
I could have gotten an autograph from one of the original Jamaican bobsledders. Oooor, I could have picked up a wet piece of dog shit. Both of equal value.
Sadly, Galveston was the worst port we were in.
Sarcasm + foreigners = a good time.
I heard "Your Call" by Secondhand Serenade so many times on the boat that I downloaded it when I got home. I hate myself.
I think that foreign women are much more attractive than American women, and will probably think my bullshit is charming instead of just bullshit.

So awkward am I

2009-03-27T05:29:00.000-07:00

So things didn't go quite as planned with the remodel girl. In fact, they went pretty badly. After the initial, "no thanks, I have a boyfriend," debacle, I waited a few days and then decided (with help) that I wasn't taking no for an answer. Well, unless it was "no" twice. Guess what! It was "no" twice!

I had high hopes for the second time I asked her out. Well, it wasn't really asking her out. I just asked her to see a movie or something. Something to get her mind off the fact that she was away from home and had to live in a hotel for three months. I hoped it would be a way to get my foot in the door and for her to realize that I'm probably the most amazing person on the face of the Earth.

What I perceived to be adorably persistent on my part actually turned out to be "why can't this stupid fuck understand that I have a boyfriend?" Maybe not in those exact words, but it was something along those lines.

I didn't know this until yesterday as I was gearing up for round three of making this poor girl uncomfortable with my painfully awkward approach. I was still under the impression that I was being all cute and persistent and shit. Girls like that kinda stuff, right? Well, apparently this one doesn't. My boss told me that round three probably wasn't a good idea. They talk to each other and he's nosy and brought me up. I trust his judgment, so I decided that I'd just accept this and chalk it up to whatever I usually chalk these things up to to help me sleep at night.

All was well and good until tonight when he told me the whole story. It actually wasn't that bad, but there was one phrase that made me snap. According to my boss, she said that it wasn't bad, but she was glad that I'd backed off and "calmed down" about the whole thing. Calmed down! I went on on uncharactistically not-so-calm rant about how I'm the calmest guy you'll ever meet and how that doesn't make any sense. It makes it sound like I'm some kind of spaz all hopping around and shit while I creepily ask her out. Calmed down! Such bullshit.

So this pretty much ruined my night, and to make things worse, I got stuck with back door duty, which consists of me sitting in a chair by the back door for multiple hours making sure people don't steal shit. After the initial giggling from hearing the phrase "back door duty," I was pissed again.

I overthink things. I take each little event and run it over and over in my head. I was in a really quiet place and had three hours of solitude to just think of how the fuck I was seen as some kind of spaz who needed to calm down about asking a girl out.

About an hour and a half into my thinking, I look down the hall and see her walking towards me on her way to the door. I'm not quite sure what it was. Maybe it was anger. Maybe it was my weirdness. Whatever the cause, when she got about twenty feet away from me, I did what any self-respecting, totally mature 26-year-old would do when faced with this situation. I picked up the rubber band I'd been playing with and I shot it at her face, making an elongated "peeeeeewwwwww" noise as I did it. I'm not real sure why I thought any of this would either be funny or a good idea.

She stopped dead in her tracks, stunned as the rubber band grazed her forehead. She stared at me for a second, and I gave her the smirk/"yep, that just happened" nod.

"You got me a little."
"Yep. Sure did."
"Are you bored? You look like you are."
"Yep."
"Well, have a good night."
"Uh huh."

So now not only am I the weird guy who didn't take a hint and asked her out a second time, but I'm also the weird guy who shot her in the face with a rubber band. Pretty sweet, huh? I'm so amazing.

Sigh. What do people who are going to be single their whole lives wear? Like khakis or something?

Wylie, Tx (and some stuff about Tool)

2009-03-18T23:10:00.000-07:00

Who lives there? Just curious. Email me if you don't want to comment. Daleberto2002@yahoo.com

Watch this guy cover Tool songs. It's pretty amazing. Here's a link to Sober since it's about the only Tool song most people know. I know most people aren't into this sort of thing. I wasn't either, but this guy is ridiculously amazing. Don't worry, Jimmy. He covers Eulogy, too. I know how much you love it.

Sorry, Jimmy

2009-03-14T11:18:00.001-07:00

ILY, Jimmy...ILY.

I'm sorry

2009-03-13T04:38:00.001-07:00

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Paul Rudd

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

I just can't get enough of this guy, and since I have nothing interesting to post here today, here he is!!! Enjoy.

I'm working on something, though. It may be the greatest love story ever told, or it may be nothing. I'm not sure yet, but I decided to not accept my rejection from the remodel girl, so I asked again, but in a funnier, more Dale way. We laughed and had a nice conversation. I mustered up some pretend confidence and I think she enjoyed it. Anyway, to make a long story short, she said that she felt bad because she "has a boyfriend," but she would think about it and let me know Monday. I know that doesn't sound great, but when you're me, that's like the fucking super bowl, my friends. THE SUPER BOWL.

Sigh

2009-03-11T03:56:00.001-07:00

Paul Rudd: I'm not gay, but...

2009-03-06T02:29:00.001-08:00

I remember when I was a kid and we'd have to write something in school about who our idol was. I would think and think, but I couldn't ever come up with anything. I'd either write my dad or Jesus. Both great men and solid answers that nobody can really argue with, but when I think of "idol," I think of somebody who you would want to be. I can't see an 8-year-old version of myself running around the back yard yelling, "I'm Jesus! *pew...pew...pew*"

Well, tonight I've finally discovered my idol. I guess I've known for awhile. It's Paul Rudd. Basically this guy is amazing. I just want to hang out with that guy and hope that some of his Paul Rudd-ness rubs off on me (in a totally straight way.) All of his characters are fucking hilarious with their sarcasm with just a bit of "sadness behind those eyes." You see what I did there? Totally a Paul Rudd quote.

If you disagree, watch this movie (It's on netflix instant!) It probably won't change your life, but it probably will make people question whether or not you're thinking about killing yourself!

Basically, Paul Rudd could narrate a movie starring my grandma where she orally pleasures a donkey, and I'd intently watch from beginning to donkey moneyshot. It would definitely be a lot better than that boring old one my grandpa narrated.

His glasses are like eyes! Goddamn hilarious!

The Remodel

2009-03-05T04:10:00.001-08:00

Howdy

2009-02-26T02:33:00.000-08:00

You have no idea how hard I've been trying to write something funny. It's just not happening. I don't know what's wrong with me besides the usual self-loathing. That's never stopped my writing before, though. I hope everybody is doing well and that you haven't abandoned me yet.

I haven't been now writing because my life is great. I haven't been not writing because it's particularly bad. It's just normal. I work, play video games and sleep. That's about it. I'm working on it. Don't worry. Like a clown having an orgasm, something funny is coming.

In the meantime, watch this Seether video. It's a good song and the video is pretty cool.

How amazing am I?

2009-02-14T04:07:00.000-08:00

I could go into a really long post about how my life is kinda sucking lately (and by lately, I mean for probably the last four or so years), but I won't. I'll just give you a small example of what it's been like lately.

I started drinking around 8 p.m. with my standard coffee cup o' jack with a splash of ginger ale. By myself 'cause I hear that's what all the cool kids are doing. My roommate is gone for the weekend and when I'm alone, I become my own worst enemy. I do a lot of thinking about life and how it could be better, but then I realize I'm whining to myself, so I drink some more until I'm happy. Around 8:30, I talked to a friend for awhile who may or may not be unhappy with something that I can't help with as much as I'd like to. After that, I played Fallout 3 until I literally passed out on the floor in the living room with the game still running. I had one of those "stop breathing" sleep moments which I've come to love so much, and in the processing of jerking back to consciousness, I smashed my face on the sliding glass door around 1:45 a.m. After that, I ate some delinex taquitos, and I swear if they give me one more goddamn taquito that's just a rolled up tortilla, I'm going to go ape shit on something. Shortly after the taquitos, I tried to throw up three times, all of which unsuccessful. My stomach hurt pretty bad (haven't got the leadbelly perk yet.) Then I took a bath. Not a shower, but a bath 'cause I'm too lazy to stand up for that long.

So that brings me to today, Valentines Day. It's probably going to be a lot more of the same except I'm out of taquitos this time around.

This pathetic whine brought to you by the good folks at Jack Daniels and by my overactive mind and low self-esteem. Hope you enjoyed!

I'm going to write something again. I promise.

2009-02-04T00:28:00.000-08:00

Well, it looks like the other blog isn't going to make it. I'm not sure why I try. I'm going to write something meaningful here soon. I've just been really busy lately (Ha! It's fun to pretend.)

Go there for awhile

2009-01-08T06:27:00.000-08:00

I'm going to be writing here for awhile until it gets off its feet and becomes the fucking blogging juggernaut that I know it can be. It'll just take some time (and for Jon to write things instead of posting graphs and pics of flowers.) If nobody else posts, it'll probably be just a bunch of posts about peeing and pooping from Chase and me, though. That's kinda what you get here, so read it there. Did that make sense? Anyway, love you all.

Happy new year or something

2008-12-31T03:40:00.000-08:00

Sucks that I have to work tonight. I hope everybody else has a good time, though. (not really). Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. I had several drafts of a post about the guy who dressed up as santa and then barged into his former in-laws' party and killed some people. He killed eight, I think and also shot a little girl in the face. There was a good bit of fucked up humor in that, but my conscious got the best of me for once and I decided to scrap it.

Anyway, I'm working on a super group of bloggers. We started a new blog here. Check it out and maybe throw some encouragement out there 'cause we're all kinda lazy fucks in our own way. It may not look like much now, but it's going to be amazing. I promise. This isn't like the 400 others I made and promptly deleted. Two more people are supposed to join, but one is in Rhode Island, and apparently they don't have computers there or some shit. The other is busy making sure people don't die. I can't respect that, I guess. Also, he's probably using Netscape Navigator on Windows '95 or something.

Pip, I've failed you...

2008-12-18T01:47:00.000-08:00

My follow-up visit with the angel in scrubs didn't go exactly as I planned. The day before I went, I decided to take Pip's advice and I talked myself into asking her out. It was going to happen and it was going to be great. A strange feeling came over me. I searched the internet for this feeling, and after several hours on wikipedia, I determined it's called "confidence." Weird.

I figured we'd go out to some nice restaurant. The finest Nacogdoches has to offer (Arby's), and we'd have great conversations. She tell me about how she was a doctor and stuff, and I'd tell her about that one time on the Sims when my dude reached the top of the medical career track. We'd high five and probably make out not long after that. (After we ate our beef and cheddar sandwiches, of course.)

After our delightful dinner, we'd come back to my place and relax on my man-mat. Things would probably get pretty hot. She'd show me where babies came from, and I'd pretend to have already known where they came from. As we drifted off to sleep, shed whisper, "Dale, I can only sleep if Tool is quietly playing in the background." I'd turn slightly to the side as I walked to my computer to conceal the giant bo-bo in my pants which no doubt arose from the fact that a naked woman mentioned the greatest band ever assembled. We'd fall asleep in each others arms to the gentle tones of "Prison Sex." Maybe she'd get some ideas from it. Maybe she wouldn't. Either way it would be the best day ever.

I had this all planned out. The most amazing day was coming up and I was excited.

That morning in the shower, I carefully groomed and scrubbed the ol' triplets like they were baby penguins after an oil spill. If they were to make another appearance, I wanted them to not only be impressive, I wanted them to sparkle!

I got to the doctor's office and went to the back almost immediately. I depantsified myself and put on my super-sweet gown to await the arrival of my delicate chrysanthemum. A few minutes later, the door opened and in walked the beautiful snowflake ~~with big boobs~~ that is my knee doctor.

She went right to work, making small talk as she gently caressed my wounded knee (Ha! Like the Indians! What happened there anyway? Like a peace treaty or something?) I had a brief mental conversation with my penis. "Stay put," I said. "She's not ready for your magnificence. Not yet." He complied and didn't cause a scene.

As I was trying to think of some hilariously witty remark about the fact that I wasn't wearing pants, I looked down and saw the mountain of a ring that was on her left hand. Holy shit. I think at least a hundred immigrant workers died during the construction of that ring. It was massive.

"So stupid!" I thought to myself. How could I have missed another wedding ring? I'm so bad at this.

I sat there, dejected as she finished her doctorly duties. Her diagnosis was that my knee was still slightly sprained and I should take it easy for a few more days. My diagnosis? A broken heart.

I guess it's for the best. I didn't want her to feel like a trophy girlfriend/wife. It's easy for women to feel that way when they're with me. I don't wanna brag or anything, but I am pulling down wal-mart truck unloader money.

I've since moved on to other unobtainable girls, but there will always be a special place in my heart for Dr. Whateverhernamewas. We'll always have that time she saw my balls, and no one can ever take that away.

Crazy dreams

2008-12-15T01:56:00.000-08:00

I had a dream a couple days ago that I met a sexy journalist at...wait for it...a party at Angela Lansbury's house. I dunno why I was dreaming about Angela Lansbury. My mom is a big "Murder She Wrote" fan, and I've probably seen more than my fair share of episodes, but other than that and the occasional "change of pace" masturbation, I haven't even acknowledged Angela Lansbury's existence in a while. So I dunno what's up with that. It was a nice house, though. Apparently she's been doing well.

The journalist lady was there to write a story on this party. I was there to apparently show her around because for some reason, I knew the nooks and crannies of the Lansbury Estate.

I think some lucid dreaming kicked in in this dream. I noticed that the hot journalist had a wedding ring on, but I somehow made it disappear. How sad is that? That I even dream about being attracted to women in relationships.

So in the dream we all sat down to dinner. This is when I was going to make my move. What my "move" was, I'm not quite sure, but I remember thinking that this is when I was going to make it. Everything was going well until I looked across the table and saw Jerry Seinfeld. Not sure why I was dreaming about him either. Anyway, every time I tried to talk to the journalist, he would interrupt and basically talk shit to me. At one point, he was making fun of me for not knowing how to use a tiny fork that looked like a garden rake. Finally I stood up and said, "Your show was stupid and FUCK YOU!" Then I woke up.

So what does this say about me?

Issues with being ridiculously attracted to unobtainable women (more on that later...maybe)? Anger issues? A tiny fork fetish? I dunno.

I think the worst part of being crazy is the fact that I know I'm crazy.

Thoughts?

Richard wins

2008-12-11T23:35:00.000-08:00

I posted awhile back about the space above our fireplace and how it needed to be filled with some sort of decoration. Well, Richard saw to that. Here it is. It's his take on the Stepbrothers movie poster.

It's some pretty funny shit and will probably make anyone who enters our apartment immediately think we're homos. We're not, though, ladies. Straight as an extra-straight arrow.

The Blogger Dilemma

2008-12-09T11:10:00.000-08:00

Every blogger comes to the point where they must make a tough decision: To post or not to post. Most of the funny things that happen to me are the result of my own frequent and sometimes self-induced misfortune. For example, the events of yesterday, after the sting of rejection goes away, will be pretty hilarious. But do I post it? People who read this blog were involved and I don't want anybody to be mad at me or embarrassed. Then again, do I really care? Comedy is comedy. It's this dilemma that made me a shitty journalist. I don't want to hurt feelings or upset people in any way.

So what do you do in these situations? I almost scrapped this blog this morning and started an anonymous one, but I don't have the energy for that.

For no reason at all, my new favorite site: Explosm.net

I think I'm in love

2008-12-05T07:56:00.000-08:00

The other night at work, I was pulling a heavy ass pallet of fire logs when some 800-year-old lady decided it would be a good idea to just go on ahead and walk out in front of me. I tried to drop the pallet really fast, but of course the handle was broken, so I had to try to stop it myself. I'm pretty sure the pallet was well over 1,000 lbs, so needless to say I didn't do a very good job. Basically the only way to do it is to try to push it back the other way. When my left foot planted and I absorbed most of the weight, I felt/heard a popping sound in my knee. Then it swelled up to about the size of a softball. Being the super awesome manly man that I am, I went ahead and worked for another two and a half hours until I finally decided I should report it just in case I really fucked myself up.

So the next day, I went to the company's (it rhymes with schmall-schmart) doctor. They set me up with an appointment for this morning with a physician's assistant named Amanda. Since it was my knee, I had a pretty good feeling that I'd have to take my pants off at some point during the exam. I was excited.

For some reason, I expected Amanda to be the same old lady that saw me the day before to give me my drug test. She was not. She was pretty hot. Sorta looked like a brunette Kellie Pickler with an adorable beauty mark on her cheek. She had a pretty awesome southern accent. Not a dirty, Texas accent, but one that you would associate with Georgia or something. She didn't say "lack" instead of "like" like most girls from Texas do. That was a good thing.

After the initial checkup, she said, "ok, take your pants off, put this gown on and hop up on that table for me." The most romantic words I've ever heard. She left the room while I depantsed myself. I hopped up on the table, but something didn't feel right. There was a draft. I looked under my robe and noticed that the ol' triplets were kinda hanging out. No matter how I adjusted by boxers, there they were. Just hanging out. I couldn't really get off the table 'cause I figured it'd hurt like a bitch if I landed wrong on my leg. I just had to go with it.

So every time she bent down to look at my knee, I'm sure she saw snap, crackle and steve staring back at her. If I would have known that they'd be making an appearance, I would have done something different with their hair. Maybe parted it or something.

As I was leaving, she put her hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm really concerned about your blood pressure. You don't want the problems associated with this. You're too young for that." Hand on my shoulder! That's what we in the biz call "kino." Wink!

So anyway, my knee isn't that bad. It's sprained and I strained my left calf muscle. Other than that and my 190 over 110 blood pressure, I'm healthy as a horse. The good news is that I get four days off. The bad news is that I have to be a people greeter for a week until I'm cleared to go back to doing grunt work. I guess it could be worse. Well, not really.

Hi

2008-11-27T03:13:00.000-08:00

This Thanksgiving will be the first one I won't be able to spend with my family. It's looking like Christmas will be that way too. I'm pretty bummed about it, but I guess that's what happens when you're an adult. The unhappiness did spawn a pretty emo blog post that I decided to just leave as a draft, though.

I have a question to which I can't find the answer. I know there's a word for it, but I'm not even sure how to look for it. It's the feeling of unfamiliarity you feel when you see a person/thing away from where you would normally expect to see them. For example: You see one of your teachers at the grocery store away from school and the role that you normally associate with him/her. It's been bothering me. I know there's a word for it. Help a brotha out. (Can you imagine how white I sound saying that irl?)

I need another writer maybe...oh, and a vagina and an overblown sense of self-importance

2008-11-21T05:22:00.001-08:00

Somebody write "advice" shit with me so we can be like these two c-bags. All the stuff in that article is complete bullshit, but of course I read it.

Do you... assume you're going to strike out? The Secret said it once but we'll say it again: In a lot of ways, you manifest your own destiny. So, if you have lots of thoughts about being unlucky in love, you may be pushing people away in ways you may not even know. If you assume the worst of the world and yourself, spend a few minutes before your date making a mental list of why you're looking for a relationship and why you are an incredible a catch.

What a load of shit. I've met some pretty pathetic dudes who stumbled into pretty great relationships. I also know some pretty cool guys who are single (me!) And trimming your toenails? Give me a fucking break. Basically, these two can eat a dick. (Except you, Elycia. You call me. *wink*)

On an unrelated note, Mini-Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Mini-Thanksgiving is what the Pilgrims would have celebrated if they all had to go home for real Thanksgiving a week later. The good thing is that there won't be any unattached girls here this year for me to drunkenly hit on. The bad thing is that there won't be any unattached girls here this year for me to drunkenly hit on. I'll try to post pics if I remember.

Now you can pretend he's a policeman instead of a slobbering retard

2008-11-12T05:23:00.000-08:00

Man, I wish they would have had cool shit like this when I was a kid. The closest I got to a cool helmet was that plastic grocery bag that my mom swore smelled like cherries if I kept it over my head long enough.

I should get one of these now. I'd be all, "Woooooo...wooooo! Ma'am, do you know why I pulled you over today? 'Cause in the state of Texas it's a misdemeanor to give me a boner. *wink*"

(GBC, that post I alluded to in the comments of my last post isn't this one.)

Tagged

2008-11-11T04:32:00.000-08:00

The plumpy white guy got tagged by the groovy black chick. Is plumpy a word? It should be.

I have to share seven random things about myself. I'm not very interesting, but here goes. I'm even going to include pictures like she did to zazz it up a little.

1. First and foremost, possibly the source of my super powers...the third ball. Testicle, if you will. I'm kinda like a bizarro Lance Armstrong. It's been there as long as I can remember. A doctor looked at it when I was in sixth grade. Well, he said he was a doctor. Doctors drive windowless vans and don't wear shirts, right? He said it probably wasn't anything to worry about. That was a long time ago and I'm still alive, so I guess he was right. Either that or cancer has been festering inside my sack all these years. Who knows...I just wish he would have at least called me afterwards. I read somewhere that I should check myself often to make sure no more abnormalities develop. I'm pretty sure none have developed. I've been "checking myself" since I was like 13.

2. I've always wanted to keep bees. I'm not really sure why since I'm not particularly fond of getting stung and I think honey tastes like sticky shit. I just like the idea of it, I guess. Bees, not sticky shit.

(Amanda, is this us? It's amazing the random shit you can find on the internet. This doesn't look like the Buzz I came to know and love. )

3. Speaking of shit, if I had one super power, it would be the ability to make others shit themselves with my MIND! I was getting mildly chewed out by a boss the other night at work and my only thought at the time was, "man, I wish I could make her shit herself right now." It just seems like it would be a problem solver. Also hilarious.

4. If I could always be drunk, I think I would. I don't really have anything else to add to that.

5. I'm a sucker for Goth girls. Not like the drink your blood ones, but the slightly Goth ones. There's just something about a girl who is paler than me.

6. I bludgeoned a homeless man to death in Austin back in '91.

I'm kidding, I'm kidding. (It was El Paso.)
(I don't have a picture for that one.)

7. I made a new blog. It's here.

Well, that's it. Hopefully at least one of those was interesting. If not, just watch the lady pooping in the hot tub again.

Which song would be creepier...

2008-11-07T03:37:00.000-08:00

...to sing to a girl I just met.

1. Tyler by the Toadies

or

2. Please Forgive Me by Bryan Adams

Not that I'm going to. Just curious.

Discuss!

Done with my break, I guess

2008-11-04T01:56:00.001-08:00

So I was thinking about giving up blogging to work on my crazy. (And by "crazy," I mean drinking and moping.) I decided it'd be best if I came back, though.

I was going to wait until I felt better to make my triumphant return to blogging, but I dunno when that's ever going to be. I've been taking the doctor prescribed ~~placebo~~ vitamins, but I still feel like a huge pile of ass. I guess I'm just going to have to deal with it. I'm also starting to feel a little weird and flaky again, but maybe blogging will help me get away from that (Ha!). I thought about calling it quits, but without me writing on here the internet would have a little less pointless shit. I can't let that happen.

Anyway, I'm going to open today's blog up to questions from my 2's of fans. Anything you want to ask. About anything. I'm just bored and looking for a good transition back into blogging.

Or don't. But whatever you do, make sure you vote! (Hahahaha...I'm kidding.)

Edit: I just read the phrase "prolapsed asshole" and it made me smile.

Extended break

2008-10-29T01:25:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be away from the blog world a little longer than I expected, so if you're stopping by and checking for updates, you should ~~evaluate your life~~ be warned that there won't be any for awhile.

I don't have diabetes, though. The doctor said that I was iron anemic and that could be a reason I was tired all the time. He also said that lugging around my gigantic dong all day might have something to do with it. If I had a dollar for every time I used that joke...

If I'm ever famous...

2008-09-26T07:07:00.001-07:00

And they ask me to be on "Dancing With the Stars," I'm going to have to choose a partner besides Julianne Hough. It would be fairly difficult for either of us to dance with my gigantic, perma-boner.

...and this little piggy didn't say shit 'cause it was a warning sign of peripheral vascular disease

2008-09-21T20:53:00.000-07:00

For a while now, both my big toes have felt kinda weird. They've been and felt like they were asleep most of the time. I didn't think much about it. I walk a lot at work and my feet usually hurt after I get home. Also, I sleep on a "bed" that some homeless people wouldn't even consider sleeping on (believe me. I've asked.) I usually wake up with a crick in something. I just figured my toe numbness was somehow related to one of those two factors.

On Sunday, I was admiring my stunning Wilford Brimley physique in the mirror after I got out of the shower. I somehow bumped my toe on the bottom of the cabinet, and it hurt way more than it should have for such a tiny bump. I thought back to when I first noticed that my big toes were numb and realized they'd been like that for about a week and a half.

I did a quick google search of "toe numbness" and it came back with peripheral vascular disease, diabetes and frostbite. I didn't know what the first one was, so I ruled that out. I live in Texas, so the last one was out, too.

So I texted Jimmy*. I figured with all that fancy nursing school he would see that it was nothing to worry about and tell me something to put my mind at ease.

"It might be diabetes," he replied.

Diabetes has always scared the shit out of me. Anything that could bring down Nell Carter is not something I want to tangle with. Being the fatass that I've always been, I always figured I'd eat myself into some diabetes one of these days. It always seemed like a disease I'd always get. Well, that and goat herpes.

I just did a quick wikipedia search of diabetes and it says the symptoms are: excessive urine production, resulting compensatory thirst and increased fluid intake, blurred vision, unexplained weight loss, lethargy, and changes in energy metabolism.

Well, I pee a lot, drink a ton of water and have lost over 40 lbs since May. I'm not so sure about the lethargy. Lethargy - Noun - the quality or state of being drowsy and dull, listless and unenergetic, or indifferent and lazy; apathetic or sluggish inactivity. Sigh...

I should probably go to the doctor and get this checked out. Being that I'm an uninsured dreg of society, I don't know when that's going to be, though. If it's still bad by this weekend, I guess I'll go see one because, all kidding aside, I'm actually starting to get a little worried.

On a lighter note, do you guys think I could pull off wearing this shirt? I really want to buy it.

*.gif courtesy of my roommate, Jon. A fatter version of me is waddling around in the background like a hungry tapir at the zoo.

My own worst enemy

2008-09-19T04:03:00.000-07:00

I entered the wonderful world of Match.com again. Jeez...every time I acknowledge that, my stomach hurts a little.

I got an email from a girl who said I seem "genuine, real and there's nothing wrong with teddy bears." In my reply, I closed with, "It's good to know that there are people out there who are ok with teddy bears. Well, unless you have some sort of weird teddy bear fetish, I guess. ;-)"

Why do I do this? I basically take a gigantic dump on 95% of the first impressions I make. While funny to me and maybe a couple people like Jon and Chase, this probably isn't going to "win the heart" of any woman. Sigh...

My second match.com interaction of the day involved a cute girl who has a kid. She talks about being a mother in her profile and how it's a pretty important part of her life. I sent her an email and opened with, "Holy crap, I'm a mom, too! What a small world. But seriously..." See, that's not even all that funny to me. I don't know why I did it. It just seemed like the thing to do.

Also, I don't know about the whole kid thing. Not that she's even acknowledged me, let alone thought about dating me. I'm not a big fan of kids. I think kids should be sent off to a camp somewhere until they aren't stupid and annoying anymore. On the first sims game before you could make kids grow up, I'd just send them to the pool. After awhile, they'd be like, "What the fuck? Where'd the ladder go? I'm sleepy." Problem solved. I know. I'm a nerd...and creepy. It's who I am.

Speaking of the sims, I've been playing the Sims 2: Apartment Life a lot lately. It's a pretty awesome game, but I feel that the simple act of playing it pretty much ensures that I'll never touch a female boob again. (The first time was a fluke. Freeze tag, third grade.)

Onto an unrelated topic. Do you ever think you're good at something only to find someone doing the exact same thing as you, only like a bajillion times better? That's how I felt when Laurie turned me on (!) to Bad News Hughes. This guy is like the Jesus of hilarious blogging. After I read about three of his entries, I didn't want to write anymore. He's disgusting and hilarious all at the same time. Basically my hero. Anyway, I bought his book and just got it in the mail today. I highly recommend you all buy this. I've only read one entry so far (I had some Madden to play.) It was about a buttplug. I lol'd the entire time.

Speaking of digusting and funny, I am the proud recipient of the Kick Ass Blogger award from my good friend "Amelia" at Writing Quiets the Voices in my Head. It's the second one she's given me. I was too lazy to post about the last one. Not that it wasn't meaningful. I'm just really lazy. Apparently she thinks that, "DB over at The Medium Bus for being the only blogger that can make me laugh and puke at the same time.He's just talented like that." Aww...isn't she sweet? If she wasn't married, I would have so awkwardly hit on her by now.

Is it just me or does this award kinda look like a penis?

I made an award for her. (Click to enlarge, ldo.)

I know what you're all saying. "Dale, you should be some sort of graphic designer!" I know, I know.

Be careful what you pretend wish for

2008-09-18T01:14:00.000-07:00

I received a comment notification via email earlier. It was from a comment on my old blog about a post which I had forgotten about. It was about a New Kids on the Block reunion. Turns out, I was on the right track. I should wish for more stupid things to happen. Here's the post.

I thought you had the right stuff, Donnie Wahlberg. I guess I was mistaken.

You sit and ask yourself, "what does American need?" Maybe a lower unemployment rate? To rid our great country of poverty? Lower gas prices? Sure, all of those are nice, but what does it really neeeeed? Six simple words, my friends: New Kids on the Block Reunion! And God bless VH1 for trying to make this happen. On their series, "Bands Reunited," Aamer Haleem tried his best to get the former pop MEGA stars back together.

First was Jordan Knight. That guy was excited. "No more dogfood for this guy," he must have thought. Not so fast, Jordan. There are still four other guys that have to agree.

Next was that guy that supposedly had stage fright. Jonathan, I think. (I say "I think" to try to make it seem like I don't have New Kids trading cards, lunch boxes, kleenexes, action figures, hats, autographs and tattoo.) He was asked if he missed the old days. He said he did, but he didn't miss all the girls surrounding his house whenever he'd mow the lawn. Yeah...that musta sucked, I guess, if you were gay or had a vagina. What a douche. Despite his douchebaggery, he was on board. (Side note: in his IMDB profile under "nicknames," it lists "Jizz" as one of his nicknames. I had the nickname "cheeseburger" 'cause I ate a lot of them. I wonder if he got his kinda the same way.)

Next, well, I missed the next guy because I was making guacamole, but what I gathered was that they went to Miami to meet him, but the security guard at his apartment complex wouldn't let them talk to him.

Next was Joey McIntyre. He said that he didn't mind getting together for one last show, but it "had to be on New Kids' terms." Ha...I bet he watched the tape afterwards and saw how gay he looked when he said that. He said he wants to focus on his acting career. That's cute. He was a no, but he had a look in his eye that said, "don't you give up on me, Aamerr." And Aamer didn't. He was determined to get the other members to sign on and convince Joey.

At this point, I looked at the clock and noticed that the show was only on for eight more minutes. "This is insane! You can't convince Donnie Wahlberg and that other guy in eight minutes," I said out loud 'cause I'm the only one home and I get lonely sometimes.

Back to Miami they go to stake out what's his name as he came home from dropping his kids off at school. Good job, VH1. Nothing persuades a person more than jumping them in their driveway in the morning. He said no and also wouldn't appear on camera.

There was one last shot. The star of "Dreamcatcher" himself, Mr. Donnie Wahlberg. Donnie declined to be on camera and said through his management (probably his mom) that he was also a no.

This brought an end to any hope I ever had of seeing them again. I felt empty. I hung my head as a single tear rolled down my cheek and came to rest on my New Kids on the Block footie pajamas. I can only hope that Color Me Bad isn't as stubborn.

Some bullshit? Yes.

2008-09-17T05:50:00.000-07:00

I decided to check out humor-blogs.com to see where the ol' Medium Bus stood. I'm #669! 6fucking69! That's ridiculous. I know I'm not the funniest man alive (kidding. I totally am.) but 669? I'm that not funny? There are 668 people who joined this site who are funnier than me? So I'm putting this widget on my page. It's the humor blogs one. If you think I'm funny at all, click that thing. I'm kinda pissed about this. I mean 669 is an acceptable IQ for me, but not humor ranking. Shit, my banner alone has to be funnier than some blogs, right?

Edit: Chase's advice to get higher ratings: "Stop sucking so much." Good point.

"Heaven must be missin' a fat ol' angel"

2008-09-16T00:01:00.000-07:00

They say that when you're in love, you just know. It's something that nobody can explain. Well, I think I've found the one.

I'm sure a classy lady like this is already spoken for, but I'm holding out hope. I baited a trap with tuna and put it out back. Keep your fingers crossed!

Now if you'll excuse me, somebody has some masturbating to this video to do. (It's me!)

I guess I'm her Ben Stiller

2008-09-11T01:51:00.000-07:00

There's a new girl at work who works with us for about two and a half hours a day before she leaves. She's cute and all, but I'm not particularly into her. That's why I don't understand why I'm bothered by this so much, but I fail to make her laugh...ever.

She's quick witted and kinda dirty, both fine qualities in a woman. She's funny. She says funny stuff, so I know she has a good sense of humor. Other people (far less funny than me) say some ridiculously stupid stuff and she laughs, but when I throw pure GOLD out there, I get no reaction.

Now I may not be the strongest, best looking, smartest, most attractive, cleanest, most caring, positive, happiest, in shape, articulate, well-groomed, thoughtful, most normal person out there, but I've never had a problem making people laugh. She won't crack. I've thrown most of my arsenal at her, too. I tried my bread and butter: self-deprecation. I got nothing. I threw some observational humor out there. Nothin'. I made fun of some people. I even went for a little slapstick (although not on purpose. I'm just clumsy.) Still nothing. I even made a damn good Michael J. Fox Parkinson's joke today and didn't even get a smile.

This hurts me.

She also said today that her favorite band was Tool. I was intrigued until she failed to name a single Tool song. Sigh. Maybe she's just here to taunt me. Whatever it is, I'm going to spend the first 2.5 hours of each work day being totally unproductive, but by God she's going to laugh at something eventually.

EDIT: She warmed up to me today when she realized we both spoke sarcasm. Now I all but own her soul. I don't even know what that means. It just popped into my head. I knew it couldn't be me. I mean fuck...I'm amazing. Also, I might be dead by the weekend because apparently there's a hurricane approaching. I'm pretty far north, so probably not. But hey, you never know. Hurricanes are crazy.

Hey, go here and just keep clicking random. Some funny shit in there.

random stuff

2008-09-09T05:46:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't posted much lately. I'm having focus issues. It's beginning to become a problem. I find myself wandering sometimes at work. Not really off task or anything, but when I stop and think about it, I have no idea what I'd been doing for the past five minutes. It's kinda scary. Probably nothing to worry about, though. Just a brain tumor or something.

The Steelers dominated this weekend. That pretty much makes my week for me. It was also pretty great watching it in a bar full of Texans fans. All that whining was amazing. My favorite quote was, "Nice play, Kubiak. Motherfuckin' piece of shit Aggie!" Texans fans are getting pretty sad these days. It's like they are watching the special olympics or something. They're just happy as long as everybody does their best.

Speaking of said bar, I think God got bored one day and decided to sculpt the greatest, most distracting ass known to man and give it to the waitress who was waiting on the table in front of us. She was pretty hot. Maybe I have a thing for waitresses. Who knows. I missed about 20% of the game, though, due to some totally respectful and not creepy at all staring.

Also at this place, I failed to finish my nachos for the first time in recorded history. It wasn't even like I ate most of them and decided I was full. I ate like 5 and was full. That makes me sad.

It could have something to do with the fact that I've lost over 40 lbs since May. That sounds great and all, but when you start out as a really fat fatass, 40 lbs is just a drop in the lard bucket. I'm working on it, though.

Dear Pink...

2008-09-07T20:50:00.000-07:00

Annie Lennox called. She wants her cock back.

Dear Jalapeno Tree Waitress...

2008-08-27T06:20:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you remember me. I'm the guy who ordered those quesadillas that one time. What am I saying? Of course you remember me. Anyway, Paige, I believe that's your name, I think we shared a moment. It was pretty obvious. You were all, "do you want more Dr. Pepper?" And guess what. I totally did! It was pretty awesome that we were on the same page. Heh...page. That's like your name. I love you.

This is a real movie!!!

2008-08-26T13:30:00.000-07:00

Kirk Cameron is...FIREPROOF! Ya hear that, Satan? Hands off.

Dear Kirk, God called. He wants you to knock it off for a little while. I bet it was hard sticking to his Christian ideals as a kid. Especially with all that sweet Joanna Kerns ass around.

This trailer was on the previews before Tropic Thunder. Everyone in the theater laughed in unison. Good stuff.

HI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2008-08-18T14:40:00.000-07:00

That is all.

Retards apparently don't like being called retards

2008-08-12T04:08:00.000-07:00

Ben Stiller's movie, Tropic Thunder, is being widely protested by retar...um...people with "intellectual disabilities" because Stiller plays a character who plays a character who is repeatedly called a "retard." Sigh.

"We are asking people not to go to the movie and hope to bring a consciousness to people about using derogatory words about this population," said Peter Wheeler, spokesman for Special Olympics.

I saw another spokesman for the Special Olympics on Robin Meade's show this morning. He added that there's no reason to "kick these people in the tongue." A few seconds later, he said, "teeth...kick them in the teeth." I guess this retard thing is hitting pretty close to home for him.

I'm sorry people have disabilities, and I don't think they should be made fun of with any kind of malicious intent, but c'mon. It's a fuckin' Ben Stiller movie! A month from now nobody will even remember it. It's not like it's some serious, Oscar-worthy, cinematic masterpiece. Ben Stiller movies are the worst possible movies ever made. I would rather watch a sex tape starring my grandparents than sit through Zoolander again. People are going to watch this one time and move on and probably forget that the word "retard" was ever used. The only thing that protesting does is draw attention to the movie. People are going to want to see it now just to see what all the fuss is about. Jeez...don't retards think these things out?

I heard some protesters chanting "call me by my name, not my label," this morning on tv. This was quite the slobbery mouthful for most of them, but the chants quickly died down as half the crowd ran off after a butterfly and the other half began chanting for ice cream and a hug.

I hate people. Not just retarded people, but all people who get offended by stuff like this. It's a movie about fictional shit. It's all in fun. Hell, Robert Downey Jr. is in blackface. Seems like if you're going to protest something, there ya go. But again, it's a movie! A Ben Stiller movie. Is it really that big of a deal? I don't get offended when people throw around phrases like "unending love machine" and "sedan-sized dong." Lighten up...

So if you're going to boycott this movie, do it simply because it has Ben Stiller in it. It's probably 90 minutes of Stiller and Jack Black trying to out-dumbass each other. The best thing Ben Stiller ever did was to not be in movies that I like. (Mamma Mia)

EDIT: Sigh...I just noticed there was a post very much like this on WWTDD yesterday. Oh well, I guess it's no secret I lack originality.

It's that time of year again...

2008-08-11T09:47:00.000-07:00

Much like geese fly south for the winter and salmon swim upstream, I too must migrate...to my tv and 360 for the next few months.

I consider it officially football season starting tonight. It's Madden time!

Madden comes out tonight at midnight, and I have fantasy football drafts and upkeep, not to mention football on tv Saturday, Sunday and Monday night. I'm afraid this blog is going to take a hit and probably won't be updated very much in the next few months. I'm not going to have time for work, Madden and pointlessly keeping up with football stats (both pro and college.) I considered giving up work, but apparently I need money for things so that's out of the question.

If I had a girlfriend, this would be the time of year when she'd break up with me. But you've gotta admit, it's a pretty great time of year. Ah, I can almost smell the deep fried broccoli florets at Bullfrogs.

(I totally gayed up the tone of this post by writing "florets.")

Love you all. Go Steelers...

Here's a pic of me as a pirate from a few years ago to hold you over until my next post. Ladies, feel free to pleasure yourself to it.

I just don't want to be Smelly Alex

2008-08-08T05:17:00.000-07:00

My freshman year in college, I became aware of possibly the creepiest person on the face of the Earth. I'd heard stories of him before actually meeting him. Most of these stories were from girls. They described their experiences as one might describe an extra terrestrial encounter. It was so disturbing that they weren't even sure it happened.

I first knew him as the "Where's Waldo Guy," either because of his striking resemblance to Waldo or the fact that he was probably creeping around somewhere. You just had to look close. I think there were also sweater-related nicknames. He had quite a bit of visible backhair poking up through the top of his shirt. (Settle down, Greg.)

Smelly Alex creeped like a champ. I'm pretty sure he was 26 or 27 and still living in the dorms, which was creepy in itself. I'm also pretty sure that he did it for the sole purpose of being close to incoming female freshmen. Living in the dorms makes no financial sense at all, so that had to be the reason. I can picture him sitting in a dark room watching the "that's the thing I love about these high school girls..." scene from Dazed and Confused on loop and smiling in agreeance.

Anyway, that became his thing. I didn't know the guy aside from politely saying hi a time or two as we passed in the hall, but I knew that was his thing. He hit on/asked out almost EVERY girl he came across.

I feel like I could turn into Smelly Dale in no time if I'm not careful.

It's just that I feel like I'm missing out on something great by being pathetically single. The six guys I work with are all in relationships and they talk about them all the time. Even the gay guy was talking about a house he and his partner just bought. I thought to myself, "man, that sounds really nice to be in a situation that stable and comfortable." Well, minus the balls and sodomy and stuff. Other than that, it sounded nice. I think a girlfriend is the missing piece of the Dale Awesomeness Puzzle.

Althought I've only technically asked out one girl at work (and almost another), I don't want that to be my "thing." I'm sure there will be at least one more. Maybe I'm making a huge deal out of this, but who knows. I tend to creep myself out more than I do others. I just figure that I need to keep the odds in my favor. If that means asking out like um...a thousand girls to find "the one," then so be it. I mean, people usually buy lottery tickets in bulk, right? Same principle.

It kinda makes me sad that I've thrown out most of my standards. Before, there was no way I would ever date a smoker. Now? Eh, I'll carry around her oxygen tank in our old age. Yep, I've lost most standards. I'm sure I've used this analogy before, but a woman could be sauteeing a baby in front of me and I'd think, "Oh shit...she likes to cook? Me too!"

I guess he got tired of getting busy living...

2008-08-04T20:09:00.000-07:00

Morgan Freeman was involved in an accident Monday. The thoughts and prayers of themediumbus go out to him and his family. *giggle*

Hang in there, Morgan. March of the Penguins II isn't going to narrate itself.

Some random things

2008-08-02T02:31:00.000-07:00

Tonight in the store, a guy in a wheelchair asked me to reach something for him. He didn't ask in a nice way, though. He was pretty pissed off. "You should have stuff on lower shelves so people like me can reach them!" Sigh...Wheelies. What are you gonna do? I wanted to say, "Sir, is it the wheelchair that makes you smell that way, or is that your own doing?" I didn't though. I smiled and nodded and got him his fucking whateverthehell it was. He's right, though. We really should have more stores with two-foot tall shelves. That'd probably go over great. I should have danced a jig around him and then said, "See that? I didn't even enjoy doing that. That was boring to me. Oh well..."

Also at work tonight, I found a woman's drivers license laying on the floor. I was kinda busy, so I put it in my pocket fully intending to give it to somebody important. Well, I remembered I had it about 20 minutes after I got home. So now I have this drivers license laying on my desk, which makes me look pretty creepy. Don't worry. She's old...and not an organ donor.

I sometimes pumice my feet. Does that make me less of a man? I can't remember if I've asked this before. I've been doing it for awhile. I mean, I'm on my feet walking around all day and it takes its toll. If I don't do it, my feet look pretty gross. Kenny, does your mom pumice her knees? You know, 'cause of all the blowjobs she gives on a daily basis? Speaking of which, tell her I'm going to have to cancel this week. I've gotta start saving my quarters for laundry. Also, I'm going to call you Sunday, so answer your phone. We have business to discuss. I've found the perfect blog enemy for you. Maybe this is the one for Michael, though. I'm not sure, but one of you definitely needs to pick this up.

I watched "Lars and the Real Girl" earlier. You should all watch this movie. I'm not really sure why, but it was pretty good despite the fact that Ryan Gosling was in it. Speaking of which, I think David Arquette would have been pretty badass in the same roll. He kinda looked like him and David Arquette could have probably used the work. Well, unless he's shooting for "Scream X." Jon thought the movie was dumb, but he also thought a movie with David Schwimmer would be good. What I'm trying to say is that he's not exactly a fucking film critic.

That's all for now. Enjoy your weekend, you fuckers. I have to work.

Almost forgot...
When I don't reply in the comments, does that make people not want to read anymore? Like I'm not paying attention? I'm just really lazy. It's nothing personal. Well, I don't like some of you. It's personal then. But the rest of you, totally not personal.

If only a test existed that could tell me if I'm a huge pussy. Oh wait! There totally is!

2008-07-31T04:58:00.001-07:00

I saw this personality quiz over at Amelia's blog (that's not her real name, but I think it should be.) I figured I'd go ahead and confirm what we all know.

I scored a 17 out of 100 (it's like the SATs all over again.)

You seem to be far from having a Type A personality. Your attitude to life is more of the "smell the roses" kind. You know how and when to relax. The hostile, aggressive and competitive part of you surfaces rarely. You are easy to be around, and people tend to feel relaxed and comfortable in your presence. It's a very healthy attitude towards life. Just make sure you don't miss important opportunities because of being too cool and relaxed. Picking up a challenge and competing a little bit for your place in the sun can add some spice to your life.

This is pretty much what I figured would happen. I'm type B all the way. Type B makes me sound like kind of a poon, but it could also mean that I'm a sensitive lover...ladies. *wink*

So I think you guys need to take this. I think I can call most of your personalities, though. Let's try.

Jon - A&B mix
Cory - B
Richard - A
Kluntzy - I dunno. I kinda see you as a B, but definitely some A in there.
Stacy - Super A? Does that exist?
Kenny "the rev" - A for asshole (I've seen you yell at old ladies for no reason.)
Michael - Probably an A.
Jimmy - Hmm...probably a B.
Chase - A

The rest of you, I don't really know well enough to make a judgment. So yeah, take that test and let me know if I'm right.

On a related note, I kicked ass on the depression test:

You show some mild symptoms of depression. Although you are generally able to cope, your feelings of sadness and pessimism may sometimes interfere with your ability to function in a healthy way - holding you back from doing necessary things, putting a damper on experiences that have the potential to be wonderful, or causing some problems in your relationships. It may not be serious but there is the possibility that your occasional "down times" could create a snowball effect and become more harmful. You may well benefit from a few counseling sessions. Counseling may help get to the root of your low feelings.

Sadness and pessimism? Um, I think you've got the wrong guy, quiz.

EDIT: SteeleShape, did you come here to compare abs?

Reader participation day

2008-07-30T05:26:00.000-07:00

Write whatever you want in the comments. Questions, statements, things like that. I'm having one of those "I need to post something" moments, but I wrote about three different things and they aren't really that well thought out. So write something. It'll be fun maybe.

My priorities lie in a sad, yet expected place...

2008-07-26T05:30:00.000-07:00

I was at a local Chinese buffet the other day with some friends from work. As I walked up to fill my belly with MSG and delicately roasted cat morsels, I noticed something different among the General Tsao's chicken and what may or may not be bbq pork. It was a cockroach about the size of a pencil eraser crawling on the bowls by the sweet and sour sauce.

At first I was disgusted. Who wouldn't be? Nobody wants to see a roach crawling across something they are about to pour delicious sweet and sour sauce into to help them better enjoy their sesame chicken balls. Then another thought popped into my head. What if somebody else saw this bug? What if somebody important saw this bug? I had a brief flashback to the day I heard they closed down my beloved China Wok. So much crying...so much crying. I can still hear the lady saying, "China Wok, how may I help youuuuuuuuu," whenever I called to place my order. I remember the smiling Asian man who would bring me my food, and how that smile would quickly fade when I shittily tipped him. Oh how I miss that place.

I wasn't about to let this happen again. I swallowed my pride (and probably an antenna or two), and when I was sure nobody was looking, I thumped the roach to the ground and stomped on it.

I don't know what I'd do if this place closed down. I think the nearest Chinese buffet is in Lufkin. LUFKIN! That's like 15 miles from here. I'm too lazy to drive 15 miles to eat. I don't even like walking across the room to go to the bathroom (but the corner is getting pretty full, so I have to.)

I don't need many things in this life. Water, air, shelter, and a Chinese buffet within five miles. This restaurant is the bamboo to my giant panda.

God didn't want me to poop there

2008-07-24T23:22:00.000-07:00

The summer after my 12th birthday looked like it was going to be a pretty miserable one. Both of my parents worked weird hours and my sister had decided to stay at college to take summer classes. A young DB, who was only 12 and couldn't drive anywhere and who also had not yet discovered the time and soul killing practice of masturbation, was looking at a couple months of boredom. (This was pre internet!)

"Why don't you go to church camp?" my mother suggested. "Some of your friends are going. You might have a good time." My mom knew this was a lie. She's well aware that I'm incapable of having a good time.

I decided I'd give it a chance. I had been a regular church attender in the past, but had slacked off a little bit ever since my sister had moved away. I was by no means pious, but I had a healthy respect for religion. I just wasn't sure if it was for me. I have never been a big fan of people trying to tell me what I should or shouldn't believe, and religion was something I was still on the fence about. I thought that maybe a week of nothing but religion and religious-related activities might give me a better idea of what was going on and help me better form an opinion, so I tossed the ol' Bible into my bag and headed off to Lake Some Indian Name That I Forgot.

Imagine the most boring thing you can possibly think of. Now multiply it by some number that's higher than you can count. That was this camp. I was bored by the fact that most of the activities involved water, and I couldn't swim. We could play basketball, but no defense and you had to stand in one spot. Pretty fuckin' fun. I also remember being pulled aside and talked to after I unsuccessfully tried to hold back a laugh when a fellow camper said that he'd especially like to thank Jesus for his new four-wheeler. I get Jesus and Santa confused sometimes too!

We would split off in groups and, on a voluntary basis, explain our relationship with God. I would pass. I started to get the "why are you even here" looks from the other people in my group. If they had actually asked me, I probably would have replied "the eggs." They had the best scrambled eggs I have ever eaten, and I literally ate mounds of them, which makes this story even more miraculous.

The content of this camp didn't prove to help me with my religious questions. I was at a weird point in my life. My thoughts had become strange. Half the time I was thinking how sweet it would be to have a pet dinosaur, but also wondering what a boob felt like. Wondering if the Ninja Turtles really could beat up Shredder and really hoping that my solitary pube would decide that he liked the place and invite some friends. Needless to say, I wasn't in a place to fill my head with all this religion stuff. The toolish camp counselors dancing and singing didn't help much either. I was already pretty sure I was a nerd. This didn't look like it was going to help.

The first night of camp we had a big sing/tell stories/camp crap thing in the meeting hall. It wasn't too bad. Towards the end, some of the counselors asked if any of us were ready to be saved. Hey, why not? A friend of mine went first. A while later, he came back and it was obvious that he'd been crying, which freaked me out a little. The counselor asked me next if I'd like to go. "Mmmm...no thanks," I replied. I remember thinking that maybe that shit hurt. I wanted to part of it. Looking back, maybe he was raped. Who really knows...

That night when we got back to our cabin and right before we all went to sleep, I felt the urge to um...poop. I glanced over at the toilet. I could see it from my bunk because it happened to be in the corner of the room. No door, no curtain. Just open space and you. It was like a retarded kid on the bench of a little league baseball game. You didn't want to use it, but you knew you eventually had to. I really didn't want to take a dump as 30 guys watched. I'm not Kenny's mom.

That night, I prayed. I said something along the lines of, "if I can make it this whole week without pooping, I'm on board with this whole "faith" thing." Anybody who knows me knows that I'm an ardent and prolific pooper. This wasn't going to be easy, especially with those delicious, buttery eggs.

I kept busy by gluing beans on crosses and other artsy/craftsy church camp shit, as well as becoming a pretty badass defenseless basketball player. I think I played immobile forward. Maybe stationary guard. I forget. Anyway, the last day of camp rolled around and I had yet to take Big Brown to the Derby and my mind was made up.

I probably made God cry a little when I got home that day as I took a dump that could have probably smothered a small to medium sized Asian village. The important thing was that I made it a week without having to use the disgusting voyeur toilet.

It's strange to think about how you arrive at major life decisions. In this case, I think my butt getting plugged for a week by God made my decision for me. Wait...

Estelle Getty: 1692-2008

2008-07-22T10:44:00.000-07:00

Guess I'll never have the chance to get my dick dry...

(Get it? 'Cause she was so old and it was probably like a powdered donut down there?)

Did I miss something?

2008-07-21T07:54:00.000-07:00

I know this isn't a new movie, but I just saw it this morning. Anybody else seen this? Like it? I thought it was a ridiculous piece of shit. Maybe I missed something, though. It wasn't all the colon imagery. I saw all that. I also saw what happens when you blow a tree...

So enlighten me. Did I miss the point?

Update: Sigh

2008-07-11T03:56:00.000-07:00

So I pounced. My approach? Stellar. My delivery? Equally stellar. Her response? Very substellar.

I finally grew some balls (five now,) and I talked to her. We made some small talk about how it sucks that she has to work by herself and doesn't have anybody to talk to. I made a lame joke and she gave the mandatory pity laugh. Then I asked her the totally not vague question of "would you like to do something sometime?" Her answer kinda puzzled me. She said, "As friends or like a date?" As friends? Really? C'mon, ladies. I'm some random guy asking if you'd like to do something. Chances are I'm not asking because we could really use a bass player for Rock Band (Although Jon and I could use a goalie for our NHL '08 franchise...)

Before I could answer she said, "'cause I have a boyfriend." I kinda figured she did because she was way too cute not to. That makes sense in my head. I made another lame joke to try to save whatever pea-sized amount of dignity I had left, but it fell well short. Oh well. At least I have awkwardness to look forward to at work today. Hooray!

I guess the ocelot turned out to be an oceNOT!!! You see what I did there? Now where'd I put my drinkin' drain-o...

Probably going to do something dumb today

2008-07-09T02:38:00.000-07:00

I think I'm going to ask this girl out at work tomorrow. We don't exactly know each other, so that may be a problem. I've decided I'm just going to kinda spring it on her. In my head, this sounds pretty suave, but in reality, it's probably going to be pretty fucking creepy.

This approach kinda worked once before. Then she blew me off several times until I finally gave up (which was a lot of times.) I'm glad things didn't work out, though. She looked like a beetle. I'm talking about the burrowing in dung kind, not the "I wanna hold your haaaaaaaaand" kind. I'm not really sure how she looked like a beetle, but looking back, she definitely did. What does that say about me? Standards have lowered? It sure does.

So tomorrow I'm just going to randomly pounce like an ocelot of love onto her marmoset of indifference until it's fully digested and made into a turd of unity.

So yeah. I figure what the hell? I'm just going to go for it. What the worst that could happen? It could go badly? Ha! It usually goes badly when I do stuff like this, but I guess I can't be a huge, flapping poon for the rest of my life. I pray she has low expectations!

I'll stop writing about imaginary girlfriend eventually. I promise.

Fill this space

2008-07-07T16:31:00.000-07:00

Dear bloggers, my roommate and I have a problem. We just moved into a new apartment (mostly why I haven't posted in awhile) and we basically have no decorations. I would like this apartment to look like adults actually live here as opposed to our last one. It's a pretty nice place and I think we can probably keep it that way, barring any sink fireworks, money burning or airsoft gun target practice.

Anyway, I'd like to start with this space above the fireplace. Honestly, I don't know how I lived without a fireplace before now. They're pretty much an East Texas must. I'm sure it'll come in really handy during our harsh, 65-degree winters.

Personally, I'd like to go with the Big Ben Godsend poster, but it's probably not for everybody since, despite its awesomeness, it leans a bit to the sacrilegious side. So what should we put here? Maybe a portrait? Richard, I'm going to commission you for this, assuming "commission" doesn't mean "pay."

So I need some ideas. Let's hear it.

Some stuff...

2008-06-29T04:21:00.000-07:00

My day started out pretty shitty yesterday. I woke up in the afternoon in a pool of what was mostly my sweat. Thinking it was a little hotter than usual in the apartment, I got up to check the thermostat. It was a cool 97 degrees inside. I knew our AC hadn't been acting that great, but I didn't know it was completely broken. Jon sent me a picture later where the thermostat simply read "01" because, unlike Jon's butthole, it has no place for a third digit. Wait, that kinda made me sound gay, huh?

I kinda felt like an asshole at work for reasons which I probably shouldn't. Jewelry counter girl randomly stopped me and asked what I ended up getting my mom for her birthday. This kinda caught me off guard because I had forgotten about that lie for the most part. It wasn't one of those "we were in the same place at the same time" forced, awkward small talks. She had actually walked past me and turned back around to get my attention. I made up some more shit about how I took my mom out to dinner. I was a little surprised she remembered having this conversation with me (I know...my self-esteem is crazy high.) Truth is, my mom's birthday is in July and I haven't even seen her since mid May, and won't see her again until October.

I guess I felt bad because JCG seemed genuinely interested in what I got my mom. The only reason I talked to her in the first place was because I hoped it was a means to an end which hopefully included her not wearing any pants. I guess I'm a shallow douche and she's a nice person. I guess it's good that she's married.

Tonight I also realized that the best part of my work day is the two minutes JCG comes to the back to throw her trash away. And yes, I realize there's no part of that sentence that's not pathetic and/or creepy. Oh well.

Anyway, have a great rest of the weekend.

Bored...

2008-06-27T04:06:00.000-07:00

I'm not feeling too creative right now, so I'll just ask this simple question:

If you could be one inanimate object for three hours, what object would it be? Have at it, pervs! Also, what inanimate object would you least like to be?

Mine would be um...probably the needle that gave Megan Fox her tattoos. I think that would be about the only way there'd be any penetration between Megan Fox and myself. I'm not sure what I'd hate to be. I'll have to give that one some thought.

Have a great day, almost everyone!

Nice guys still finish ahead of the retards, right?

2008-06-23T23:25:00.000-07:00

About a week ago I heard I was a "really sweet guy." Tonight, I was told that I was safe and "like a brother." Sigh. Ladies, these are not things a guy wants to hear from people not related to him. I'm like the mayor of the friend zone. Not that I was looking for any romantic anything with either situation (sure...I'll go with that,) but c'mon! I didn't even ask for either of these things to be said. I mean, I guess it's cool that people think I'm nice and sweet and stuff, but those are words used to describe the temperament of a puppy. I'm not a puppy. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm spontaneous. Maybe I'm some kind of crazy, spontaneous badass...but I'm not.

What am I? I'm not real sure. One thing I do know is that I'm a man of limited game. Even on those rare occasions when I show flashes of romantic suavery, it's more sad than it is awesome. I'm kinda like that time the basketball coach in New York put the autistic kid in the game and he proceeded to hit six threes in four minutes. After the game, I'm sure he strapped his helmet back on and went back to being normal. That's me. A romantic novelty. The blind squirrel theory of romance.

So as my good pal Andrea and I watched The Bridge tonight, she explained to me that I'm safe and I don't take any risks. That I'm a nice guy and maybe that's why things aren't happening for me in the lady department. Bluh. I guess I am nice, though. I don't really know how to fix that or if it's even something that need fixing. If I've learned anything from my years of perusing internet porn, it's that all kinds of people like all kinds of things (no matter how disgusting or girls to cup ratio'd.) So there's gotta be a woman out there that thinks it's pretty cool that I played the old NES version of super dodgeball on my computer for about two hours today. I don't mean to brag or anything, but I won the championship...a couple a times. If you aren't impressed by that, well, you just aren't impressible. Maybe there's a woman out there who doesn't mind being awake at 5 a.m. to watch Robin Meade's Morning Express with me, and who won't get pissed when I give a detailed list of reasons why Robin Meade is maybe the most perfect woman. She'll also hold me when I get pissed when Robin is on vacation and that way less hot lady is filling in. There's gotta be somebody out there like that, right? If not, that's cool too. At least I've got my health. Aww...where'd my health go?

And finally, I just want to say that George Carlin will truely be missed. George Carlin taught me how to properly use the word "cunt," and for that I will be forever grateful. Rest in peace, George.

some things...

2008-06-21T02:20:00.000-07:00

I hate most animals, but there's a special place in my heart for tiny, orange cats and raccoons. As I was coming home from work tonight, I saw a raccoon run across East College. I stopped and watched as he ran in front of my car to the other side of the street. As I accelerated again, a second raccoon ran out right in front of my car. Those who know me probably wouldn't reply "reflexes" when asked about my best quality. Needless to say, the poor little fella didn't make it. I felt really bad. I had a sick feeling in my stomach for a little while. I guess this is how I know I've kind of grown up. In the old days, I wouldn't usually bat an eye. I'd get out and check to see if anything happened to my car, but wouldn't care much about the furry woodland creature I just smashed. But now I just feel like an ass. I mean, there probably wasn't anything I could have done, but still...

In the store tonight, an Hispanic man walked up to me and, in broken English, inquired about a "camera that take the peeeecture and then one minute peeecture come out." I said, "a polaroid?" "Oh no, no, no. The peeeecture come out of the camera. One minute." "I think those are polaroids." "No, no. You not understand. The PEEEECTURE come out of the CAMERA!" Each time he said this, he took an imaginary picture with an imaginary camera, then pulled the "peeecture" out. Probably one of the most frustrating conversations I've ever had. Finally I said, "Oh! Those! Sorry, I think we're sold out." I wanted to fucking shake him. I'm not one of those "if you come to our country, you should learn English" people. But seriously...learn English if you have to talk to me. Well, unless you're a hot Hispanic chick that says "papi" a lot 'cause, well...that's just hot.

I saw a video of the guy who was riding with Hulk Hogan's kid when he got into that wreck. Wow. That guy is pretty fucked up. The whole front of his head is gone, and he's probably going to be in a coma forever. I don't know why they are keeping him alive. Even if by some miracle he does pull through, he's never going to be close to normal. If I ever get like that, somebody pull the plug. I want it to be an actual plug, though. Kenny, you do the honors.

Welp, that's about all the nonsense I have for tonight. Hope everybody has a good weekend. I hope some people come to terms with their weirdoness and embrace it. I hope I meet a lady down on her luck and low on her standards.

Dear Cowboys fans, I hear mass suicide isn't that bad.

2008-06-18T02:10:00.000-07:00

Tonight I was talking to a coworker about football. I have a lot of respect for people who can hold a high-level football conversation with me. I'm kind of a football snob, I guess. Anyway, turns out he's a Cowboys fan. Not a big shocker since I live in Texas, but I would have never pegged him for a Cowboys fan, mostly because he knew what he was talking about and could speak without wiping slobber from his mouth.

For the most part, I hate Cowboys fans. There are a few exceptions, but the majority of them are hardcore dumbasses. Example:

We're having a nice conversation about how we think our teams are going to do this year. He says he thought the Steelers had a good draft (which they did.) I said I thought the Cowboys would win at least 12 games this season. Everything was civil until this old man who I work with decided he wanted to chime in. This guy is like 5'6" maybe. He has some pretty bad little man syndrome and he's always pissed off at something. He looks at me and says, "What are you talking shit about?" Beautiful way to barge into a conversation. The other guy explains to him that I'm a Steelers fan, to which he replies, "Ha! Steelers!" This immediately pissed me off and I asked him what he meant by that. He said that the Steelers weren't going to do shit this year. Then he went on to say that Ben's best years are way behind him and he will have another horrible year like he did last season because he's never recovered from the "motorcycle wreck and women troubles." He added that we needed to win another Superbowl to "catch up with Dallas."

This is why I hate Cowboys fans. They have no idea what the fuck they are talking about half the time. Even about their own team. First of all, Roethlisberger threw for over 3k yards last season (not that that's fantastic), 32 tds and 11 ints. He also had a 65.3 completion % and a qb rating of 109. He made the f'n pro bowl! And he's all of 26 years old, so I'm not sure where the "best years are behind him" thing came from. The motorcycle wreck was before the season before last. And as far as the "women troubles" comment, well, just look at him. I mean, I'm not gay or anything, but c'mon ladies. Am I right?

Meanwhile, Tony Romo, the Jesus of Dallas...
Single-handedly lost a playoff game two years ago when he fumbled a field goal hold against the Seahawks. Mention this to any Cowboys fan and they'll immediately reply with some shit about how the ball was slippery. You know, 'cause this was the first time in the history of the NFL that a ball has been slippery. The next season, he decided to go to Mexico with the dumbest fucking woman in the entire world a week before a playoff game. That's some pretty good focus, right? Then they lost.

So what's my point? I dunno really. I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you're a cowboys fan, the next time you have all your friends over to watch the 'boys play, go ahead and lock your doors and set your house on fire. We'll all be better off.

Ladies, are you really this judgemental?

2008-06-12T03:37:00.000-07:00

I saw this article on Yahoo earlier. I'm kinda shocked that Yahoo ran an article about ridiculously stupid shit (kidding. I hate Yahoo.) But seriously, do women judge men by what kind of food they eat? This can't be true, right? I mean Jimmy got married, and in the 5+ years of knowing him, I'm pretty sure I've only seen him eat pizza and macaroni & cheese and drink mountain dew.

So what does this say about me? I'm kind of a mixer and matcher when it comes to food. I also prefer some form of chip with every meal, too. What does that say about me? That I'm great? Probably.

And who the fuck orders game? And if a necrophiliac orders dumplings, does that still make him "cute as a dumpling?" I'm asking for a um...friend.

Ugh...

2008-06-10T12:35:00.000-07:00

Some days I think there's some giant wheel somewhere that someone spins to determine how my day is going to go. Well, today the needle landed on "zit."

I briefly caught a glimpse of the monstrosity in the mirror before I turned away in horror. It's either a zit or the remnants of a conjoined twin. I'm scared to pop it for fear a femur may come out. I'm pretty tired, too. I guess I used quite a bit of energy building this thing in my sleep. Oh well. Maybe today is the day they replace me at work with robots and I can come back home and take a nap.

Also, a little off topic, but I was watching this guy on tv last night play the violin. He was a badass and all, but I've come to the conclusion that it's impossible to play a violin without looking like an extra-spazzy autistic kid.

Dumbest post ever. HAVE A GREAT DAY!!!

Why am I so bad at this?

2008-06-09T02:29:00.000-07:00

Fresh off of the viewing of that guy getting rejected, I realized that it had been awhile since I got brutally shot down. Well, no reason to keep that streak up.

So there's this girl I work with. We'd exchanged pleasantries a time or two and she seemed really nice and my type. And by "my type," I mean any girl who isn't immediately repulsed by me has potential to be "my type." So about a week ago, I decided that I would brighten her day and make all her dreams come true by asking her out.

For some reason, I'm unable to ever ask a girl out like a normal person. I have to plan things out. Things always look good on paper, but never work in reality. I guess I'm kinda like a romantic Wyle E. Coyote if Wyle E. Coyote does that whole crying/masturbating thing that I do whenever he misses the roadrunner. I exaggerate a little. Sometimes I don't cry. (Be honest. You cringed a little when you pictured me masturbating just now, huh? Good...good.)

My buddy Josh has been witness to these awesomely horrible plans ever since we were kids and he's always told me that they're not going to work. This one felt right, though. Step one was just casual conversation. A joke ice breaker, perhaps.

She came back to the back one night to throw some stuff away while I was back there. We talked for a couple minutes and, once again, my "don't say stupid shit" filter failed to work as I made some ridiculous joke about crushing a small child with a pallet jack. Sometimes I wonder why God made me so smooth. She seemed to legitimately laugh and not one of those "I should humor this creepy guy" laughs. Not that I know what those are like. Step one went well.

Step two involved her job at the jewelry counter. Before work the next day, I was going to feign interest in my mom's upcoming birthday (kidding, Mom) and pretend to shop for a nice necklace for her, asking jewelry counter girl's advice...and also learning her name so I didn't have to refer to her as jewelry counter girl.

I went a few minutes before I had to clock in just in case things went badly or I was getting a bad vibe. Things went ok, though. She showed me some nice necklaces that actually had the word "mom" on them. The day I buy my mom something like that is the day she probably disowns me...more. I introduced myself, she introduced herself. Everything was going according to plan. It was kinda scary. "Eat that shit, Josh," I thought to myself. It was almost time to clock in so I told her I'd think about what I wanted to buy and I'd come back on my last break. She said she'd be there until 11.

Time for my last break rolled around, but we still had a shitload of stuff to do, so the guy were like, "eh, let's just go later. Like 11:15 or so." I snuck out around 10:45 to finish my master plan. I wasn't real sure exactly what I was going to say, but sadly, it involved going to the zoo. I realize how lame that sounds, but it was kind of a two birds with one stone thing. I really wanted to ask her out, but I also really wanted to go to the zoo. (They have some kickass white rhinos there.) So I approach the counter and she's just hanging out getting ready to go home. Nobody else is around so I don't have to worry about witnesses to this potential disaster. So I gathered up the residual confidence I had from Jimmy's wedding and headed on over to pretend to buy stuff again.

"You know, I think the stuff that says 'mom' on it is kinda cheesy," I said. She agreed and said that she would never buy her mom anything like that. Then she asked if my mom wore a watch and directed me to the watch display. Never intending to actually purchase anything for my mom, I was kind of caught off guard at this question and I really couldn't remember whether or not she did wear a watch. "Hmm...I don't really know. Is that bad?" I asked. "No. You're a guy. Guys don't notice things like jewelry. It's just something in your makeup." Eerie foreshadowing. "Yeah. I guess you're right." Then just as my mouth opened to probably say something stupid about rhinos, she said, "My husband doesn't pick up on little details sometimes. It's ok."

So that's where my plan ended. I mean, I could have totally stolen her from her husband and all, but I didn't want to be a dick. He's probably a nice guy.

I honestly don't know how I didn't see the wedding ring. Those things should glow or beep or something so I don't look like an idiot. I told her I changed my mind and I'd probably just get my mom a gift card or something 'cause nothing says thanks for all those hours of labor like a gift card. She laughed. We said our goodbyes and I slunk (?) back to the back room.

The universe pooped on me once again. Probably not the universe's fault, though. I was kind of a dumbass on this one. I realized two things, though. One, I'm pretty horrible at this kind of thing and two, hot girls are usually only nice to me when they are married, in a committed relationship, live several states away or mistake me for Drew Carey.

An uncomfortable moment that, for once, didn't directly involve me

2008-06-05T01:51:00.000-07:00

Tonight as I was moving some stuff to the other side of the store, I knocked over a display. It wasn't a big deal. I do it quite a bit because I'm lazy and don't pay attention too often after 11 p.m. While I was stopped picking things up, a scene unfolded in front of me that was both hilarious and painful to watch all at the same time. Kinda like if a car full of clowns ran into your grandma. It was uncomfortable to watch, but I couldn't look away.

There was this cute girl looking at silk flowers or whatever it is that girls buy at 11:30. She was pretty into what she was doing and oblivious to what was going on around her. Well, except for me knocking over like 10 coolers into the aisle. She laughed a little when I did that. I was cool with it, though. Most of the time I leave my self-respect in the car before I come to work. Anyway, as she was looking at fake tulips or whatever, this Hispanic guy with a budding afro walks past her and then does one of those recognition double takes.

"Hi there, (whatever her name was)," he said.
"Oh, hi, (his name). It's been awhile."
"Heh...we talked yesterday."
(Burn)

At this point, I kinda started paying attention. I could tell something bad was going to happen. I guess pathetic recognizes pathetic.

So long story short, he says something like, "do you want to hang out sometime?" I heard this as I was getting up to leave. She looked over at me, almost as if she was embarrassed that another person was about to witness the lady brutality she was about to lay down on this guy. Then I saw her give him the "stalling for time" smile and I felt bad. I'd been in Curly McMexifro's zapatos a time or twelve and I could see what was about to happen.

As I rounded the corner to the back room, I heard her say, "I don't know. I don't think that's a good idea." Poor guy.

What did I learn from this? I learned that while my own misfortune really sucks, other people's is pretty awesome and hilarious.

Things...

2008-06-02T01:22:00.000-07:00

1. I've realized that I don't really feel sorry for anybody these days. I'm not sure what it is, but I guess I lack empathy to a certain degree. Case in point, people in wheelchairs. I mean, I don't hate all people in wheelchairs. I'm sure there have been some great ones. But there are those who think they are entitled to shit because they can't walk. It would suck to not be able to walk. I know that. The other night in the store, I was pulling this gigantic pallet of dog food. This thing probably weighed 800+ pounds. I'm going at a pretty good pace to the other side of the store when this guy wheels out in front of me like he owns the fucking place. I had to slam on the brakes, almost getting crushed in the process. No reason for us both to be paralyzed, asshole. Then he looks at me like I'm an asshole for not having some fucking spider sense to tell me when some guy is going to dart out in front of me. I'm sorry. I'm not the one who paralyzed you. I mean, I wish ALS upon people sometimes, but I didn't even know this guy. He knew I was coming. That thing is loud as hell. Ugh. If it would have fallen and I would have had to restack it, I probably would have dumped him out.

And another thing...just because your feet don't work doesn't mean you don't have to wear shoes. People have nasty feet. At least wear some socks.

2. Plumb. Why haven't I heard of Plumb before two nights ago. From what I can tell, she's been around for awhile. I'm usually not this oblivious about music-related things. She sounds kinda like Amy Lee without all the bitchiness and the not returning my letters/calls/bags of kittens. I've had to break out the headphones again because I don't think Jon or probably the people who live under me appreciate Plumb as much as I do.

3. I'm torn. I haven't shaved in awhile and, wait for it....waaaaaaait for it...there's visible facial hair! I'm pretty excited. I try not to get too excited, though. I don't want to scare it off. My problem is that, in order for it to eventually grow out, I'm probably going to have to go through this awkward "I should probably shave" stage for awhile. My question is this: is it worth it? Ladies? Facial hair a good enough thing to endure this unkempt douchebag phase?

4. People keep telling me I should set goals for myself. I guess my goal of not dying by choking on food isn't good enough on its own. I should apparently make better goals. Well, I've made a goal, but it doesn't really involve me. I just want to help. Maybe I'm wrong, but I see this situation playing out around me, and it's like watching a movie that has a good ending but a beginning and middle that make it so excruciatingly painful to watch that you almost walk out. The parties involved might not want my help. I thought about that for while and realized I don't really care what they want. So yeah. I'm helping. And it's going to be great. You're welcome in advance. I'm working on a strategy.

5. Yahoo writes the dumbest fucking articles this side of that paper I used to work for when I worked for it. Look at this article I just read. It's basically saying, "Hey, fuck it...follow your dreams. Anybody can do it. Anybody who is getting paid a shitload already. You'll be fine!" What about guys like me? Where are our inspirational stories? Maybe I want to open my individually wrapped cracker-sized cheese factory or the baby bird-themed restaurant that grinds your food up for you and pours it in your mouth. Maybe I want to do that. Should I quit my lucrative job? I mean, I am pulling down "receiving associate" money.

6. I really think these horns have some kind of magical powers. Seriously. Since I um...happened upon these horns, it seems like everything is coming up Dale. Forget a career, love, happiness and all that stuff. I think I was just missing these horns. They've really pulled my life together. I hope Jimmy's dad didn't get a bill from the place where they disappeared.

Twas the night before Jimmy's wedding

2008-05-31T00:48:00.000-07:00

They packed up and left, a wedding to attend.
The big guy, the Koala and their Hispanic friend.

They drove to Longview. No air conditioning was pretty lame.
In the car, Mexican sweat wasn't just a card game.

Their destination was the Holiday Inn.
There they were joined by the short guy and dressed themselves in ties. Let the drinking begin!

They gathered in front of the camera, next to the dining room,
the groomsmen and the soon-to-be groom.

Declining to epitomize style and grace,
they opted instead to line up four-wide and hold up a tiny ass-face.

Onto the bar and the tender named Chris.
He tried his best to pour drinks, but often did miss.

Patron and Jager, intended for glasses didn't make it that far.
The liquor now lay dead in puddles all over the bar.

Said the Koala, "you're a shitty bartender, I must confess."
"Don't listen to him." "He shoud if he seeks success!"

Chris was angered when the Koala went too far,
and asked if he could order a beer just to dump it all over the bar.

Normally the big guy would have stepped in to save the bartender from the verbal attack,
but he didn't really care tonight. Plus, he was on his third glass of Jack.

Back to the dining room they all did go,
To take their seats next to a rodent and the second coming of Barbaro.

The bride and the groom gave them all gifts and made quite a fuss.
Three jerseys of Houston athletes and an autographed pic of the Bus.

The big guy glanced across the room and saw an attractive girl whom he did not know.
It was the groom's cousin. A mini Jessica Biel, imo.

Back to the bar for another round, the number of which they had lost count.
At this point in the night, the groomsmen had drank a ridiculous amount.

Mini Jessica Biel next to the big guy did sit,
and when she initiated conversation, his pants he nearly did shit.

"Tell me what you drink in Texas, if you please."
The big guy winked as he replied, "the juice of an armadillo...fresh squeezed!"

Returning to the dining area and appalled by what he had just done,
the big guy was approached by the groom's father who said, "Watch out for her. She's a wild one."

The food eaten and the end of the evening at the restaurant drawing near,
the groomsmen decided to leave. The big guy stealing some bovine headgear.

To a different bar! It wasn't even late.
But they needed a sober driver. Enter their Hetero soul mate!

The hetero soul mate did rock.
He turned out to be a fine DJ and also the anti cock block.

He took them to a bar which was laid back and mellow.
There were drinks, a dance floor and a fancy singing African-American fellow.

The big guy, Mini JB, the Koala and his lady in waiting all took a seat,
shortly thereafter, the latter two left to have a heart-to-heart outside by the street.

The big guy hoped the outside conversation didn't turn into a war,
but it also gave him alone time with JB to discuss important things like borderline alcoholism and Mt. Rushmore.

They talked and laughed and the big guy felt she was into him to a certain degree.
They interpretive danced. He was an otter! A sea lion! A tree!

"I hope nobody interrupts this," the big guy prayed.
But soon enough was a charge led by none other than the cock block brigade.

Their seats on the comfortable couches had now been vacated,
and around the tiny table sat the big guy and six or eight people whom he now hated.

They heard "Bleeding Love," Leona Lewis' big hit.
The big guy drunkenly said, "JB, to this song, I'd ask you to dance if I were better at it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the short guy's girlfriend disapprovingly shaking her head.
Perhaps something less dumb he should have said?

"I think you two should dance anyway," suggested the Hetero soul mate before long.
They both agreed. It was to that "Easy Like a Sunday Morning" Commodores song.

He thought this song title was foreshadowing for sure,
as he deftly maneuvered his adorable ass on the dance floor.

They laughed as she sang made up words to go along with the beat.
He slyly glanced down at her boobs a few times under the guise of "I'm making sure I'm not stepping on your feet!"

The two stayed on the floor to dance at a slightly faster pace.
"Spin me," she said. They had fun until he caught a stray elbow in the face.

The bar was closing at midnight and the soon-to-be bride and groom said farewell.
The groom joined the groomsmen and they headed back to the hotel.

The big guy was saddened when his conquest was ended due to JB's severely drunken state.
Although drinking with the groom's cousins, Kyle and THE J2, was still pretty great.

"Use your key card to open the pool," the Hispanic fellow said, very insistent.
This was a mistake as The Koala would later find out that his Blackberry wasn't too water resistant.

Back in the room later when all were asleep, the big guy found the Hispanic fella on a nest of towels on the bathroom floor.
With puddles from the pool all around, the poor guy's back appeared to be wet once more.

He helped him into bed and made him stay.
They all needed some sleep if they were to be useful the next day.

"Hey Jim, you alive," the big guy sleepily said.
He figured, as best man, he'd be in some pretty deep shit if the groom ended up dead.

The groomsmen knew that they would be hung over and their heads pounding like a gong.
It was all good, though. This weekend was for their buddy and he'd be happily married before too long.

Jimmy's wedding, Pt. 1 (as told by Jon)

2008-05-29T16:53:00.000-07:00

I wrote a little about this yesterday, but here's a more in-depth and hilarious version of events.

LINK!

From L: Dale, Richard, Jon, Jimmy, Cory (the one being held because he's the size of a small child.) Not real sure why Jimmy looks like an anime character in this picture, though.

Stuff

2008-05-29T02:06:00.000-07:00

Jimmy and Khara's wedding this past weekend was pretty amazing. And surprisingly, I remember the whole thing. I don't want to get all "uncomfortable seriousness" post on you, but I'll just say that it's a pretty awesome thing to see and be close to (I mean the threesome) a relationship from the very beginning and see it result in a marriage. But seriously, probably the most perfect wedding I've ever been to. Khara wasn't demanding and seemed to have a really good time at all the party type things. Jimmy worried about pointless things like I fully expected him to. But that's why we love the guy.

The groomsmen, well, we drank enough to kill a horse faster than two broken front ankles. Are Eight Belles jokes still topical? I hope. I'm surprised none of us had to be put down. That part was pretty great.

Also, I held the attention of an attractive girl for a quite awhile without the aid of shiny or jingly things. I've figured out my problem with talking to women. All the ones I've tried to carry on conversations have been sober! Silly me. I've been going about it all wrong. Drunk girls think I'm funny. I'm pretty sure when asked about myself, I led off the conversation with, "Well, I got my first period when I was 11." Drunk girls apparently love that shit. Who knew!

Yeah, things were going pretty well for me at that bar we went to until the cock block brigade showed up. Apparently the vast expanse of unoccupied couches weren't enough for them. "Hey, Dale is having a great time with a hot girl. Better put a stop to this shit..." Sigh. Oh well. It was pretty great nonetheless. Well, it was until the night ended due to last call and a tragic jitterbuging accident resulting in me catching an elbow to the face.

And last and definitely least, I've just got to mention my good pal, the fuckin' reverend, Kenny. Normally, this guy could eat a bag of piping hot dicks, but I have to give him some props for showing up at the wedding wearing the sweetest suit this side of Flavor Flav. Seriously. This was a great suit. It was like a Houston Oiler and a Smurf made an awesome pinstriped baby, and Kenny made a suit from its skin. When am I going to get those pictures, douche? Soon, I hope.

Jon has a much more detailed account of this weekend's events. I'll post a link when he's done.

If this post doesn't make much sense or is formatted oddly, well...I intended to have a drink to help me go to sleep. That drink turned into some drinks. Have a great night/day all.

Happy Birthday

2008-05-27T23:04:00.000-07:00

Today I would like to wish a happy birthday to my good pal, Jessica (Desperate Common Law Wives.) Although I usually distrust people who won't say "poop" or "fart," she's different. It's not often that you find someone who is willing to listen to you whine until the wee hours of the morning. I can honestly say that I'm a better person for having met her. I guess I'm thankful for that one night when her father and mother had dirty, dirty sexual intercourse in probably a plethora of positions. Some normal, some wheelbarrow-esque in nature.

So have a happy birthday, Jess. I'm glad we're friends and I hope we can be even better friends once we're cousins. *wink*

Who wouldn't play with these?

2008-05-17T04:35:00.000-07:00

Ah, I remember when I was a kid and being so happy when spring rolled around. I'd whip out my fat balls and call all the neighborhood kids over. We'd knock 'em around until we were exhausted. Oh the times we had! Now that I'm an adult, it's getting harder and harder to find someone interested in playing with my fat balls.

Self-reliance

2008-05-13T06:11:00.000-07:00

Being happy isn't as hard as I'm making it. I've realized over the past few days that I'm putting a lot of emphasis on things that, at this point, are more wants than needs. A lot of my problems stem from wanting validation from others. Sure it's nice to be liked and have people like the things you do, but it's not necessary for me to be happy, I've decided. I heard a lot of kind things about my last three posts, but I also heard one discouraging thing. Sadly, that one negative thing caused me to take them down.

It was nice to write about things that were serious and important to me. It felt pretty good to know that my writing made people feel things and actually think instead of just getting a cheap laugh. I was going to leave the posts down and just forget about the whole thing until I read this, from Self-Reliance by Emerson:

What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness. It is the harder because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.

If I'm ever going to be taken seriously as not only a writer, but as a person, I have to learn to handle criticism and also not base what I do on people's opinions of me. I didn't write them for attention or for people to feel bad for me. I wrote them to write them. I wrote them to make me feel better and to also, hopefully, hold someone's attention for two minutes. Taking them down doesn't do anything but make me look weak and easily persuaded. It makes me look like I lack conviction and won't stand behind what I write. That's not the case, though. So I'm putting them back up. They are what they are and I'm proud of them. I think this is a step in the right direction for me.

I don't intend to fill this blog with serious posts, but they are probably going to be a bigger part of it in the future.

Thanks for reading.

Settle an argument

2008-04-09T04:16:00.000-07:00

Somehow Legends of the Fall was brought up this morning. I said how it was one of my favorite movies. Richard replied with, "I try to stay away from that. It's a chick flick." What the fuck? How is Legends of the Fall a chick flick? Richard argued that it's a "period piece with a bunch of dudes in it." If that's true, then Gladiator is a chick flick?

My reasons against it being a chick flick are four fold.

1. Brad Pitt doesn't make those kind of movies, I don't think. You could maybe argue that "Meet Joe Black" is, but not really. That movie is badass.

2. A lot of people get shot. Brad Pitt scalps some Krauts (is that still offensive?) An indian kills a guy with a shotgun. Not chick flick characteristics.

3. An old man fights a bear using only a knife. That's pretty hardcore.

4. No Dermot Mulroney, Ryan Gosling, James McAvoy, or Jude Law.

So I'm right, right? Discuss!

The pregnant man. oooohhhhh...

2008-04-05T23:19:00.001-07:00

That pregnant "guy" who was on Oprah kinda pisses me off. Not because of the whole abomination unto God stuff, but because "he" has way more facial hair than me. What do I need to do to get that kind of facial hair? Get my vagina removed? If that's the case, well, no thank you, sir. No thank you at all.

She didn't account for one thing...

2008-04-02T23:36:00.001-07:00

I almost got scammed on match.com. Well, not even close to almost. I kinda saw it coming from a mile, nay, two miles away. It's not that I'm super perceptive or anything. It's just that she didn't go about it very well. I mean no boob pics? People could probably get a kidney or two from me with the right about of boob pics.

Things seemed weird from the beginning when she called me "Handsome Face" in her email. Pretty sure that's what my grandma calls me when she pinches my cheeks. Not really a turn on. (Unless grandma is wearing that one robe that you can kinda see through...)

This girl said she was from Florida, which even if it wasn't a scam wouldn't work anyway. I'm way too lazy for something like that. I put off going grocery shopping at Kroger sometimes, and I can see that shit from my window. Anyway, she said she lived in Florida, but wasn't in Florida right now because she was in West Africa claiming her father's estate. Ha. Here we go. We didn't talk a whole lot that night after that because I'd been doing some moderate to heavy drinking and I fell asleep at my desk despite the constant MSN Messenger nudges.

The next day I woke up and had two new messages from her. She expressed her anger with me by saying, "babe, I'm not in good mood right now. I send you messages and no response? Is there other girls?" Her English is what I'll miss most about her, I think. That and the creepy. It's weird being on the creeped end of things instead of the normal creeping side. Not sure I like it.

I explained to her that there's probably some crazy time difference between here and her fictional "west africa," and that I was asleep when she sent those messages. "I have something I need to ask, but I am shy girl." I called my old roommate Cory and told him to try and guess what she needed money for. Then she disconnected and reconnected like eight times. I asked her why all the dcs and she said that the hotel manager was trying to disconnect her because she hadn't paid her bill. Pretty original, actually. "But listen, I really want us to talk more, but he is about to kick me out soon." I laughed, "That sounds bad. What can we do about this?" "Well, it is best that the bill is paid today, but I do not have the money." I laughed again. "Sorry to hear that. Good luck with your scam and good luck with all that crazy. I'm going to go ahead and block you now."

Oh scams. How adorable. It might have worked, but she didn't account for one thing: My severe distrust and skepticism of any woman that shows the slightest bit of interest in me. That an the fact that I'm not retarded. I believe it was the great Groucho Marx who said, "I don't want to belong to any club that would accept me as a member." Yeah, I'm kinda like that. Then again, there might be some girl in Ghana who just got kicked out of her hotel and is currently being raped by some lions or whatever they have in Ghana.

Either way I talked to a real girl! Probably. Well, for my diary purposes, it's going to be a real girl.

I can't decide...

2008-03-29T02:06:00.001-07:00

I can't decide whether or not to add Leona Lewis (British singer or something. Dunno...saw her on VH1 once or twice) to the pantheon of imaginary girlfriends. She looks really hot sometimes. Sometimes she looks borderline hot. And other times she looks like Shannon Sharpe. I mean, she's no Amy Lee, but still worthy of the IG title. Not just everybody gets those. (Patricia *wink*) Heh...creepy.

Opinions?

Kind of a pointless post, but it's the weekend and also 4:15 am. I'm less motivated than usual, which means, for all intents and purposes, I'm dead.

Here's a video. Come for Leona Lewis. Stay for hilarious footage of babies dangerously close to heavy traffic.

In the immortal words of Puddle of Mudd...She fuckin' hates me

2008-03-23T02:31:00.000-07:00

It was about 2 a.m. here and I was checking my email/match.com/whatifsports before I went to bed. I had the match.com window still open while I checked on my WIS team. Suddenly I got an IM from a girl via match.com's instant messaging thingy. It said, "Are you painting your eggs?" What the hell? "Is that a masturbation euphemism? Shit! Can she see me," I wondered (and panicked.) "Um, I did earlier. How about you?" I replied, still unsure what was going on and also unaware match.com had instant messaging. I checked her profile. It was well written aside from a stray apostrophe, but I'm totally willing to overlook that. She was from somewhere in NY that had the word "ball" in the name. I giggled.

Some stupid banter followed for a little while until I said, "So what made you IM me randomly? It was my boyish charm, wasn't it? Oh God it was. I swear being so charming is a curse sometimes." I understand that if you don't know someone that could sound a bit conceited, but I figure you'd only think that if you were, oh say...an idiot. "How are you charming? Give me an example." Obviously I wasn't ready to follow up with examples 'cause, you know, I don't really have any. I made up some crap about how there were too many to pick from.

Then the conversation turned back to her talking about Easter and how she painted "funny" things on the eggs like "eat eggs." Fucking HILARIOUS! At this point I pretty much decided that she wasn't really my kind of person. I asked her what kind of music she liked to listen to. She rattled off some music snob bands, and her list started with Death Cab for Cutie. Bluh. She also thought it would be nice to send me an Ingrid Michaelson song. Awesome. I'll file that under "S" for shit I'm never going to listen to ever. She then asked me if I wanted to "see something cute." I passed up obvious mirror jokes and said yes. She sent me a .wmv file. I had to ask Jon what that was. He called me a "n00b." It was a video of her sitting in front of her computer. I got kind of excited, but four boobless seconds later the video was over.

She was really cute. Like waaay too cute to randomly IM a hairless yeti such as myself. My first thought was that she was attempting to steal my identity. Then I laughed as I pictured her face when she hacked into whatever hackers hack into to see my credit. I imagine her face was something like mine when I thought, "Hey, meatspin? That sounds neat. Let's give that a click."

"Wow, you're a lot prettier than me," I said. Then I immediately slapped myself when I realized that was very close to a line from Knocked Up. Fuck, I've turned into Jimmy. "Is that supposed to be a compliment? You're a guy. I'm supposed to be prettier than you." Then she got what I thought was faux-offended, but it turned out to be real offended. I tried to say funny stuff to make it better. "Do you like digging a deeper hole and offending women?" she asked.

Then she said, "Redeem yourself and send me something cute." My first thought was of my penis with a tiny top hat and monocle, but I learned my lesson about sending pictures of my penis over the internet. (Fuckin' Chris Hanson.) Sensing that this was already not working and that she was kind of a bitch, I decided to browse my extensive library of stupid shit I've photoshopped. This little gem seemed to stand out above all the others. "This is what it would look like if I had a toothbrush as a best friend...in a perfect world." "Wow, boys are weird," she said. "Yep. Well, I should probably go to bed now. You have a hoppy Easter. See what I did there? Hoppy? Like a bunny? Yeah. Night!"

No reply. Eh, we had a good run.

That's pretty much how my weekend went. My mom threw out my bed, I was bitten by a dog and my 3-year-old niece made up a song about how "Dale Binty" smells like poop and garbage. It's actually pretty catchy. I can maybe see the garbage, but the poop is a bit of a stretch.

Contemplating fitness

2008-03-14T18:18:00.000-07:00

With my never ending search for the future Mrs. DB in full swing at the moment and with Jimmy's wedding quickly approaching, I thought that maybe I should get in shape. Well, be less fat.

I'm not really going about the girlfriend thing the right way. I should be presenting the best possible DB, not the guy who literally did a celebration dance the other day when McDonalds accidentally gave him two extra hamburgers. I mean, if you're trying to sell a house you don't shit in the hallway on the day you're showing it, right? So why am I playing "how many Dr. Peppers can I drink in an hour?" It's not a smart move. But then again, I'm not a very smart man. (Kidding. I'm a less motorized/Lou Gehrigy Stephen Hawking.)

I should probably be a little thinner for Jim's wedding too. Most people will be watching me the entire time. I'm basically the most important person at the wedding, bride and groom included. I need to slim down a bit too so I can easily escape after I give my best man speech. And by escape, I mean with some of Jimmy's hot girl cousins to my room after I wow their clothes off with my awesome oratory skills. I assume I'll have a room, Jimmy? I also assume that somewhere in the depths of Wisconsin you have a hot girl cousin?

So back to my girlfriend search. I finally finished my profile with the help of my lovely and talented friend Laurie. I needed a smart, attractive woman's feedback since that's what I'm shooting for. A side note: I'm pretty sure she wants to date me now. Can't say that I blame her.

So anyway, here it is. Tell me what you think. Guys, don't you go turning gay on me. It's probably that powerful. Give me feedback. And yes, I stole my tagline from that story you told me, Jess. Well, I paraphrased it. I think.

We can pretend we met somewhere else

I can crack an egg into a bowl with one hand without getting any shells. I know, I know...pretty amazing. I should stop there because I'm sure your expectations have been exceeded, but I'll keep going.

I'm a pretty laid back guy whose ideal night involves kicking back on the couch and watching a movie with some friends, but if the Steelers happen to be playing, I won't lie: I'll be watching them.

I enjoy cooking, especially the challenge of cooking new things that I'm unfamiliar with. I like most things associated with food (see picture. I had to check "a few extra pounds" because they didn't have the "like a big teddy bear" option.) And I like a woman who never says, "I'll just have a salad."

I was the managing editor of a small town newspaper, but I decided there was more money to be made being a college student, so I just moved back to the area to finish my journalism degree.

I'm looking for a woman who enjoys laughing, whether it's with me or at me, both are fine. A woman who enjoys sports, or at least doesn't mind watching them from time to time. Someone who sees the humor in things and doesn't take life too seriously. Most importantly, a woman who is comfortable with who she is.

(UPDATE) Women of match.com, it's time to lower your standards

2008-03-12T08:35:00.000-07:00

As I was drunkenly and creepily perusing the pages of match.com last night, I started to notice a trend. Women on there are being a bit unrealistic with things like level of education and salaries for their ideal match. C'mon, ladies. You're searching for the Mona Lisa in the bargain bin at a flea market. It's not going to be there. Maybe you should check out wishfulthinking.com. Maybe that's more your style.

And another thing...why put pictures of your dog on there? I don't want to have sex with your dog. Well...no, no I don't. What's the point? I can see maybe guys having dogs on their profiles to get girls. Girls are suckers for puppies. I personally tested this theory once with Ermel's puppy at a football game. It was amazing. It was like free helmet day at the retard store. I think I'm going to make a match.com profile and include a puppy. Maybe give him a back story. Something about how I saved him from a fire or something. Dishonesty is sexy, right?

I did find one diamond in the rough, or diamante en el áspero (that could be wrong), if you will. Her English isn't so great, but I'm willing to overlook that. She said, and I quote, "I need a man who is good eater because I love to cook." I am good eater! I am great eater, actually. She also said, "I need a man who listens to 'Turn me on Mr. Deadman' while playing Halo 3 and sitting in a broken V-rocker." Ok, I made that last part up, but how fucking awesome would that have been? Pretty awesome...pretty awesome.

I've already come up with my profile name: BlackVanilla.

Edit: So yeah, I think I'm going to make a profile. What do I have to lose? Dignity? Self-esteem? Ha. That's cute. I don't know how I should do it, though. Should I be the dumbass that is me and add some "humor?" Do I try to be sincere? I haven't been sincerely sincere in like 6 years. I was also thinking of using the same picture I have as my profile pic on here. Bad idea probably, but that's me in a very gigantic nutshell. So, help. Give me some ideas. I'm sinking here. Trying to make myself sound interesting is a pretty daunting task.

Ugh...

2008-03-10T07:19:00.000-07:00

"Jesus Christ, son," he said while laying on the cold, metal table in the back room of the hospital. Everything was just like I remembered it. His eyes opened. "What the hell have you been doing all this time? Are you planning on ever doing anything with yourself. You should have been something by now. I have to say I'm a little disappointed." Then he closed his eyes again.

Then I woke up. I've tried to steer clear of the emo bullshit on this blog for the most part, but this was just so vivid and disturbing that I had to at least write about it. I woke up about four hours ago, but I still can't shake it. It prompted me to finish and turn in some job applications I had sitting in my desk drawer and to go get some new ones. I guess that's some good that came out of it. It also prompted me to swing by the liquor store. I really don't want to feel like this all day.

All byyyyyy myself

2008-03-09T08:02:00.000-07:00

Let me start out by saying that I really like my roommates. They are both cool guys and I've almost learned to deal with all their shit (or pee in some cases...) That being said, I really enjoy being alone, which is probably good considering the way my life is going. Jon is camping and Chase is at home. I like it when they're here, but I also like it when they're not. Pants? Who fuckin' needs 'em? Not this guy. I sleep when I want and, much more importantly, wake up when I want. If that happens to be 6:45 p.m. like it was yesterday, then so be it. It's pretty nice. P.S. Chase, your pillow really makes my balls itch. Not as much as your toothbrush, though...or your goatee.

Ladies, said roommates are going to be gone for about a week. Yep. Just me here by myself for a week. Just throwing it out there.

What would you like to talk about?

2008-03-07T02:06:00.000-08:00

I've always wanted one of those blogs where people you know...comment and stuff. Reader interaction is pretty cool. That's pretty hard with only about 1 reader, though. I was going to write something profound here today, but I'm saving it for later next week. It involves the epiphany I had the other day about how I'm kind of a dick sometimes. And by sometimes, I mean a lot. More on that next week, though.

So, blog readers, what would you like to talk about? Fucking anything. I don't care. I usually have ideas about blogs when I'm taking a dump, but due to the fact that I ate a whole cow's worth of cheese this week, the ideas (among other things) weren't exactly flowing. Poop joke.

So yeah, go for it.

This has been another lazy post brought to you by DB.

Edit: It snowed here today for about an hour. I was filled with childlike wonder the entire time. I was probably pretty adorable.

Nobody puts baby in a coffin...

2008-03-05T16:49:00.000-08:00

A few places are reporting that Patrick Swayze only has a few weeks left to live due to pancreatic cancer.

I smell a Ghost sequel...

Now I'm not saying you should kill your family, but...

2008-03-04T00:17:00.000-08:00

...if you plan for a month, you should probably have a 100% success rate. Or at least a plan that isn't retarded. I saw this a few days ago on CNN while I was watching super hot Robin Meade's show. She mentioned that some Texas teens killed a girl's family because of "forbidden love." What are people thinking about when they do stuff? I don't think too many people get away with crimes anymore. Even the incompetent law enforcement folks in the town where I used to live would catch people most of the time. And they suck. Badly.

Didn't these kids watch Bully? Plans like they made don't usually end well. Especially when you use a fucking sword. Jeez. I wonder if they're going to make a movie out of this. Maybe Brad Renfro can be in this one too.

Wilkinson and Waid broke into the house around 4 a.m. Saturday and fired on the parents while they slept, according to the affidavit. The two then went upstairs and fatally shot Mathew Caffey, 13, and stabbed Tyler Caffey, 8, with a sword, it says.

A sword? Really? No throwing stars or magic wands available? Sigh...Texans. That's one murder that they can probably blame on video games and few people would have a problem with it.

The father, Terry Caffey, was shot five times but was able to drag himself 300 yards to a neighbor's home.

That's pretty impressive. The guy was shot 5 times. I can't walk 300 yards regularly without having to stop four or five times. Usually one of those is a poop stop.

So what have we learned from this? We've learned that that old saying is true. "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry...when you're a fucking retard and kill people with swords."

Am I this inappropriate and weird?

2008-03-03T01:05:00.000-08:00

I was in Gamestop earlier buying the newest Sims expansion (don't you fuckin' judge me...) I went with Chase, my roommate, who works there to get some phantom discount that never happened 'cause he's a douche. Anyway, the Gamestop here is apparently the Mecca of douchebags and retards.

So I'm standing there waiting on Chase so we can go eat when all of a sudden a more haggard, less toothed version of this guy comes out of nowhere. He decided to go ahead and invite himself on into my personal space for a little chat. Keep in mind that I've been nowhere near this guy the entire time we were in the store. I hadn't even made eye contact with him, I don't think. He gets really close and says, "You know what's funny about this dadgum country? We can go anywhere we want and nobody asks any questions about it. What if we were in Europe? You can't go where you want in Europe. People always want to know where you're going and why. But here, well, me and you could hop in a van and drive to Montana as long as we had money. Nobody cares what we do."

What the fuck? Did this guy just ask me out? How do you even respond to that? I learned my lesson about cross-country road trips with strangers. I didn't even really know what to say. I just said, "um, yeah...freedom. Pretty crazy." Chase walked up at this point and the guy turned to him and playfully poked him in the ribs. I think they may have a history. I didn't really want to ask too many questions about it. People makes mistakes...

So I've been thinking about the randomness and borderline inappropriateness of this guy all day. I'm sure he thinks it's ok to ambush strangers with pointless banter about how quirky America is. Then I started thinking about what I do. I bet I do a lot of things that seem ok and funny to me, but probably annoy the shit out of people. I can actually think of two cases tonight. One involved pointless Rock of Love shit and the other was leaving a voicemail for Cory asking if Jesus was a Warcraft character, what would he be? Please tell me I'm not an extremely more attractive version of this guy.

A swing and a miss...

2008-03-01T14:15:00.001-08:00

Yeah, those last two posts sucked pretty bad. I had to go to the land that technology/God forgot for a week, but I'm back now. Does that mean good posts are on their way? Yeah, probably not. But you never know.

Yay!

2008-02-21T10:13:00.000-08:00

Last night, while curled up on my air mattress, I prayed. I said, "God, please end all wars. Please end the suffering of the world's hungry, and last but not least God, please help my grandma with her disease."

Well, instead of the resolution of any of those, I got this, courtesy of wwtdd.com:

Shhh...shhh. Don't talk. Just admire.

I think this is better than than any of my prayers being answered. I mean, c'mon Grandma...is dementia really that bad? Suck it up.

Christina Aguilera is my hero. She's saying, "Listen ladies...show the boobs. What can it hurt?" That's why I love her. You all should too. And you should take her advice (Laurie...)

Oh, and I also prayed for a two-headed kitten. SCORE!

Some things

2008-02-19T18:44:00.000-08:00

I'm completely misusing blogcatalog. I'm sure there are some guys out there with great blogs, but to be honest, I don't really look. I see a picture and the 14-year-old boy inside of my decides they woman in the picture is hot, so I add them to my "friends." (And by "14-year-old boy inside me," I meant figuratively.) Don't be alarmed, damonm55. I found yours in the Humor Blogs section. But yeah, does this make me a weirdo? I mean, more of a weirdo? Does anybody remember the original goal of my blog? Cory? Jimmy? I'm just trying to stay true to that.

Hey Damonm55, I saw that you signed your blog up to be reviewed by that one lady whose name escapes me at the moment. Let me know how that goes. I was going to do it too, but I noticed she was Hispanic and I figured with that last post, I might not get too good of a review.

Here's a challenge for all of you. Listen to this song and this song back to back. If haven't killed/cut yourself, let me know. Also, ignore both videos. They are kinda gay. Especially the overly emo first one.

Good news, Cubans! You can go home now.

2008-02-19T07:39:00.001-08:00

Fidel Castro has officially resigned from the presidency after 28,000 years in power. So things are looking up, Cubans. Get those flotillas together. It's time to paddle your way to freedom. What's that smell coming from off the coast of Florida? Is it...is it...democracy? Better go see.

Also, illegal Mexican immigrants in Texas, I hear Mexico is giving away free pies to the first 1 million who return. I mean, I'm not saying I want you guys to leave or anything, but it sounds like it's worth a look-see. I just don't want you to miss out on free pies. I'll help you pack.

Everything's bigger in Texas

2008-02-18T03:31:00.000-08:00

I just saw a list of the fattest/fittest cities in the US. Texas, as always, is amazing. The list of fattest cities is:

1. Las Vegas
2. Arlington, Tx
3. San Antonio, Tx
4. Fort Worth, Tx
5. El Paso, Tx
(Dallas in at 6 and Houston rounding out the list at 10. Dale Bentley came in at a respectable 13.)

How awesome are we?

"Texas does have our share of overweight people," John Foreyt from the Baylor College of Medicine says. "Texas is a very diverse state, with strong cultural traditions. Food is very important to us. Texans eat out a lot." Word...

The top 5 fittest cities were Colorado Springs (apparently sodomy burns calories like none other), Minneapolis (#1 on my list of cities with the sexiest women. *wink* The article also says you people watch 49% less tv? What the fuck is that about?), Albuquerque, Denver and Portland.

Dammit, I'm going to get Nacogdoches on this list. People keep telling me I should set goals for myself.

On a related note, congratulations, Jared Fogle. Congrats on losing 240 lbs and keeping it off for 10 years. Also, congratulations go out to Carnie Wilson for losing 240 lbs and keeping it off for about 53 seconds.

Texas also ranks in the top 5 for naked fat guys sleeping on the sidewalk. I'm only kidding. That guy's dead.

Follow up (it's cute that I think people care, isn't it?)

2008-02-17T02:43:00.000-08:00

Here's the Doritos seasoning clump I talked about in my last post. The pic is a little blurry. The shiny thing next to it is a dime for a size reference. It's about 3/4 of an inch thick too. Maybe a little more. It would have been a little bigger, but I was dared to take a bite. Not nearly as tasty as you'd think a giant clump of seasoning would be, but it's so beautiful. Looking at this clump of seasoning just brings out all kinds of emotions. If God can create something this beautiful, then maybe, just maybe, everything is ok in the world.

Something I thought was cool

2008-02-15T02:28:00.000-08:00

I watched an episode of Rob and Big the other day where Rob was trying to get in the Guiness Book of World Records for skateboarding. It got me thinking. What could I get in the Guiness Book for? Fattest man? Nah. I'm still a little ways off from that. Then I remembered the giant chunk of Doritos seasoning that I somehow came to own.

I'm pretty sure Cory is the one who found it, but I ended up with it for some reason. Next time I'm home, I'll grab it and take a picture (unless my mom has thrown it away despite the fact it's in a container with "DON'T THROW AWAY" on the side.)

Anyway, as I was looking for large chip-type things, I ran across a name that sounded familiar. Bryce Wilson from Algona, IA. Then I remembered why I knew that name. He was one of my first blog readers/commenters back when my blog didn't blow ass. Back in the days of the "Useless, Pointless Stuff That Nobody Cares About" blog. He had a blog that was pretty damn funny and random. He's a radio DJ in Algona and apparently he spearheaded an effort to bring a giant cheeto to the town. Here's an article and also something on Dave Barry's blog.

Did reading my blog help him achieve fame? Probably.

I just thought that was kinda cool. I'm going to use my creepy e-stalking skills to find him again.

About my last post...only one comment? It was the dead baby with the arrow sticking out of its back, wasn't it?

Valentines Day

2008-02-12T17:47:00.000-08:00

I really do hate Valentines Day. I've given up on it. There was a time when I was all about Valentines Day. I had an elaborate plan in the works until it was ruined by a cockbag who I thought was my friend. It made me drink enough everclear to possibly kill a smaller man and yell obscenities into the phone to whoever would listen.

Being a single guy on Valentines Day makes you feel like a loser. You can't help feeling a little embarrassed. Kinda like when I showered after gym in 5th grade for the first time. I looked around and wondered why my penis was bigger than all the other guys. I broke into tears. "I'm a freak!" I yelled as I ran home, occasionally crying out in pain as I stepped on it. Well, I've come to terms with my gigantic dong, but I just can't feel ok on Valentines Day.

And for all the women out there that say it's just another day, how does it feel to be a liar? We all know that to women, it's not just another day. It's a day where nothing's good enough, isn't it?

But hey, enough about me and the fact that I'm a single loser on the anti-single loser holiday. Here's an article for you all to read. This guy really dodged the Valentines Day gift bullet this year.

The most difficult thing about this picture was gluing the wings on the little kid after I shot him.

The depths of douchebaggery

2008-02-11T04:59:00.000-08:00

I'm back from my blogcation! I drank a lot and did quite a bit of feeling sorry for myself. Had to get it out of my system.

The other day we heard, "stop stealing my shit!" and some other, similar sayings coming from the apartment next door. The apartment where the hot neighbors live. I'm not even sure what the other two look like, but one runs track and wears sports bras and really short shorts all the time, and friends, in my book that's A-OK. She came over here the other night to use our washing machine because hers was broken. This sounds like a great beginning to porn, but yeah...not so much. She came over wearing the aforementioned short shorts and sports bra. She just wanted to use our washing machine, but I would have probably given her a kidney if she wanted one.

Her ex-boyfriend was the target of her rant. He was kind of tall and your typical douchebag. I imagine he had played frisbee golf in the past two days and probably says "bro" way too many times a day (which is 1.) "Don't ever date her, fellas" he said as we opened the door to see what the hell is going on. "Guys don't hit girls," she fired back at him. He said something about how she had hit him first or some bullshit. Then he looked at us and pointed to the right side of his face as if the 90 lb, 5'3" girl had just broken his jaw or something. I didn't see any marks or anything. Maybe he was just trying to illustrate his cockish sideburns. Who's to say?

According to hot neighbor, this guy had broken in to her apartment and was smashing jewelry he gave her, to which he replied, "it's mine! I gave it to you!" Classy and makes sense. He also stole some pictures of them, which I completely misunderstood. When she said, "He took pictures of me while I was asleep," I thought he did what I'd been doing for the past few weeks. My roommates and I were sitting outside at this point waiting for him to leave and kind of "bodyguarding" the neighbor. This guy was pretty creepy. Believe me. I'd seen him at the meetings.

Jon tried to end the situation by telling hot neighbor to go back into her apartment and creepo to go home. We were getting pretty hungry. He pretended to leave, but came right back after we left. He spent awhile wandering around the parking lot pretending to call the cops for some unknown reason since it seemed like he was the wrong one. When we came back from eating, he was parked about 50 yards away and was leaning out of his truck staring in the general direction of her apartment.

All this happened on Friday. We thought it'd be a one day thing, but we were wrong. He was here every day of the weekend. Yesterday I heard, "Give it back to me," and as I looked out the window, I saw him running through the parking lot putting on one of her necklaces. Like I said, he's a classy fella.

So here's my question: What would make a guy go to such extreme douchebaggishness? Does her vagina dispense Little Debbie snack cakes? 'Cause that's pretty hot.

In an unrelated story...

Chase loves Clive Owen...and cock.

Happy Groundhog Day

2008-02-02T18:37:00.000-08:00

Just got finished watching the movie. Bill Murray is a comedic genius. Andie McDowell makes my penis sad, though. I don't even know what that means, but she's ugly.

Another reason I like Groundhog Day is that you can say "gobbler" and "knob" in the same sentence and you aren't necessarily talking about Kenny's mom.

An underappreciated disaster...kinda like my birth

2008-02-01T10:02:00.000-08:00

I just saw something about us on Yahoo news. Not that that makes it "news" since Yahoo runs shit about 5-legged cats and the top ten ways to flirt online, but still...kinda cool that it's on there.

I was asleep in the wee hours of the morning when I heard a really loud "boom." It rattled our window so much that I thought it was going to break. "Goddamn garbage truck," I yelled. A sentiment echoed by Cory, who was asleep in a tiny shoebox. The dumpster was about 15 yards away from our window and sometimes the garbage trucks would be loud enough to make the windows rattle. We woke up and started flipping through the channels a little while later. We came upon CNN where we found out that the Space Shuttle Columbia had just exploded over the Nacogodches area. Being the fucked up, morbid people that we are, we immediately got on the phone and called some friends to go "look for shit." The FBI issued a warning to not pick things up because of some crazy space contamination or some bullshit to keep kids from fucking with NASA debris. Did that stop our buddy Rambo? (Yes, it's his real name.) No, no it didn't. He stole a piece and was promptly turned in by his roommate (who later found his car covered in syrup and flour. Rambo was nothing if not a classy gentleman.) The FBI searched Rambo's room several times. Rambo thought it would be funny to leave them notes that said things like, "You push poop back in." Sure it was funny at the time, but he later got something like a year of community service.

The piece that fell behind Commercial Bank was the biggest we saw. It's impact put a pretty large dent in a dumpster. All the other pieces we saw could have easily came from a car or something. It was kind of a weird day. We practiced softball (go Woodpeckers!) while blackhawk helicopters hovered over and search parties combed the town. I'm pretty sure that's was affected our season. We only won two games. It wasn't because we sucked. No sir. It was that space shuttle.

The Yahoo article was good, but a bit on the dramatic side. Reading it reminds me of a joke I heard on that gloomy day in February. What's NASA stand for? (Need another seven astronauts. Ah, an oldie but definitely a goodie.)

Who would play you?

2008-01-31T21:29:00.000-08:00

Who would play you in a movie? Just curious. This is my monthly "who the fuck is reading this" post. Also, I didn't have anything creative to write. Not that I ever do, but this time was especially non-creative.

For me, I'd say Drew Carey, Andy Richter or maybe Jim Gaffigan. Awww...I just made myself sad.

Cory, I think this guy would do a pretty good job playing you.

(face)

Don't taze me, Pa

2008-01-30T06:37:00.000-08:00

An Oregon man has been arrested for using a stun gun on his kid...who is 18-months old.

I know what you're all thinking. You're thinking that this guy is some kind of animal. Who could use a stun gun on a child? But hey, let's not jump to conclusions. We don't know this child. This kid could be a real asshole.

I can't remember if I entered the bus from behind or not...

2008-01-29T00:21:00.000-08:00

Last night, with my belly full of bbq ribs and some mac and cheese, I slept curled up in my nest. I can't see myself when I'm asleep, but I imagine it was a pretty adorable sight. During my sleep, I had a pretty unusual dream. Before I start on the dream, I'd just like to go ahead and say that I have already turned over my testicles to the proper authorities. Apparently, I won't be needing them, according to this dream.

So I was on this bus. I was just minding my own business, but there was this guy a few seats in front of me playing some kind of hand-held game really loudly. I could see people getting pretty pissed off so I went and sat by him and said something like, "Hey man, there are people trying to study. Could you turn it down a little? You know, before they get mad?" Pretty diplomatic, I thought. He turned it down and I went back to my seat. Then this woman sat next to me. She said, "I really like what you did there. Will you walk me home?" I said ok and we made our way to the front of the bus. I figured she was either going to kill me or touch my dong. Both were fine since I was going to do one of the two to myself anyway. As the bus stopped and the doors opened, I glanced at the driver. It was Mrs. Carouthers, my school bus driver. I hadn't seen her since high school about eight or nine years ago. I said hi and she kind of frowned. I was puzzled, but moved on 'cause...you know...the dong touching thing.

So I get off the bus with this woman and she looks at me and says, "Will you carry this beehive?" and she hands me an empty glass jar. Makes no sense, right? It's a dream. I don't get it either, but I carried it. We walked down the road for a little while and we eventually came to this huge beehive with a door. I know...no fucking clue. She invites me inside. Once inside, she starts taking her shirt off. That's when I looked at her and said, "You know, I really should go back and tell Mrs. Carouthers thanks for all the times she took me home. I don't think I've ever said thanks."

And that, my friends, is where the dream ended. Apparently I would rather tell a 60-year-old bus driver thank you for doing her job than have crazy honeycomb sex with some dream lady.

I woke up shortly after. It was a little after 5 am. I was pissed and perplexed all at the same time, but I needed to go home today to get some more of my stuff, so I went ahead and left. When I got back to my hometown, I passed by my old school bus, but Mrs. Carouthers wasn't driving. It was some other lady. I don't know what all this means. Is Mrs. Carouthers still alive? People I know from home, can you find this out for me? In the meantime, I'm going to look at naked lady pictures just to make sure I haven't turned into a homo.

Dear Jimmy's Sister...

2008-01-27T21:08:00.000-08:00

I would just like to weigh in on your "situation." So a hot girl said she wanted to, among other things, kiss you. I don't know why you view this as such a bad thing. If anything, I think you should be flattered. I know there's always the "if you were in my shoes" argument. Would I be flattered if some dude was admiring my dong from afar? I can't say whether I would be or not, but that's not the point. The point here is that this is awesome for you. This is possibly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Don't just dismiss it. I say embrace it (and her.) What if this is what you've been looking for? What if that?

I say you give this poor girl a chance. Do it for yourself. Do it for this girl. And most importantly, do it for me. Also, take my camera. I just put new batteries in it. You just click it over to "general picture" and it's ready to take pictures. There's also a high-speed setting. I'm not sure what you'd use that for, but if you could find a way, that would be fantastic.

Thanks,

D.B. <3

Just some random things 'cause I can't sleep and this porn is downloading waaaay too slow

2008-01-26T02:13:00.000-08:00

It's 4 a.m. and I can't sleep. Why? Who knows. Too awesome? Probably.

You know what I hate? People who leave comments on dead people's myspace pages. I'm going to write more in-depth on this later. It just bothers me. I don't see the point. You could just as easily think whatever it is you are going to write. It'll have the same effect, which is NOTHING 'CAUSE THEY'RE DEAD. I guess people see it as a way of keeping their memory alive, but if you can't remember somebody without the aid of myspace, then you were a really shitty friend/relative and you should kill yourself so other douches can write, "really missed u at xmas" on your facebook page. FUCK.

Dana Jacobson, ESPN anchor, recently said, "Fuck Jesus" at a celebrity roast for Mike Greenberg and Mike Golic (Mike and Mike.) ESPN has since suspended her. Why say that? I understand it's a roast and you are supposed to go a little "blue," but "Fuck Jesus?" Seriously? I don't know anybody who could pull this off and get a laugh. Kenny tries, though. I think that Dana is mad because Jesus' dad made her face look like this. I'd probably say things like that too if I had to look in a mirror day in and day out.

Imaginary Girlfriend #6,379: Ana Ivanovic

2008-01-24T15:30:00.000-08:00

Ana Ivanovic has won my heart...in straight sets. From the moment I saw her, it was 15-love. You guys see what I did there? With the tennis references? Fuckin' genius.

Anyway, yeah. She's pretty hot. I'd definitely let her backhand my balls cross-court. Or forehand. It's up to her. I don't watch a whole lot of tennis. I'm not really sure if she's that good. To me, tennis is to sports what Buck's Pizza in Nacogdoches was to pizza. Sure it's still pizza, but with all the other, better options available, why eat there? On a related note, Buck's was pretty nasty. I ate there once and my ass literally turned into a fountain. I threw a penny in for good luck. And by penny, I mean several rolls of pennies. You know, for extra luck.

So Ana, if you read this and can comprehend English, you just keep on winning (if you were winning in the first place.) Then you swing by and pick me up. We can head back to your home in Serbia. Where is that? Like Virginia or something?

(I have a job interview tomorrow. Pray for me to whatever god you believe in. Well, except for Buddha. You'd just be wasting your time. We had a falling out a couple years ago.)

toothbrush

2008-01-23T23:02:00.000-08:00