Always Sunny

I can't tell you how excited I am for the third season of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia coming in September. There is an 88% chance that it is the funniest show on TV (and I know because I am expert on funny things). I believe the first episode, "The Gang Finds a Dumpster Baby" airs September 13.

What am I - a fucking commercial? I need something to happen to me so I can write about it. However, when your days are spent having constant sex, drinking excessively and Rhymin' & Stealin' there is not a lot to write about.

Oh, here is a promo for that show that is pretty f-ing hilarious. However, only watch it if you are okay with getting immediately fired, escorted from your building and your phones being tapped by the FBI. Just kind of kidding. It's not really that bad - there is no nudity, but they do use the "f word" (that would be "fuck") and say "blowjob" about 20 times. And it has Fred Savage in the Clip (not on the show). Enjoy!

UPDATE: (P.S. I've been getting hundreds of e-mails telling me the video is not working. It works for me, so screw you. For real though, I suck at these things so I don't know how to fix it. It took me a half hour just to get it the right size. For those of you that can't get the video to work, Here is the Link.)

Hungover

Monday morning is here. The hangover is just now starting to clear (but it's not gone yet). I was drunk from Wednesday night until Sunday morning. What a life I lead.

One story I forgot to share was about my hangover from Friday morning. A bunch of people went out to dinner Friday night. Actually, we went out for drinks at a restaurant it seems. It was me and 6 rich bastards. They were buying. We started at a hotel bar before dinner and I had 3 vodka tonics. (I don't know about you, but I have always heard the acceptable recipe for vodka tonic is 1 part vodka, two parts tonic. This bartender apparently liked to reverse that mixture). We were only there for a half hour. Then we went to the restaurant were I ate grilled shark with 2 more vodka tonics. By the time dinner was over I couldn't focus my eyes very well across the table. Dinner lasted two hours and everyone was shit faced. (I saw one guy leave a $200 tip on a $400 bill). We went to a another bar near the restaurant, where I decided I had already had too much to drink (so I switched to beer). 3 draft beers later and I could feel myself slumping in my chair.

When I got home, no big deal. I actually felt pretty good. I drunkenly played some guitar. I played with my doggy. (That is not a euphemism - I actually played with my dog), and then I sat down to watch some TV. That is when I realized things were bad. It was a TV spinning, nauseated, must close eyes before I fall out of my chair, kind of feeling. As I sat in my char in a shirt and tie with my eyes closed, I fell fast asleep (read: I passed out in my clothes in front of the TV). I woke up Friday morning at 5:00 a.m. with a pain in my back from sleeping in a straight up position. I sat there for 10 minutes trying to figure out what the hell happened.

Cue the vomit scene. That's right my friends, I threw up. Big time. Everything came up. (At one point I swear I saw a part of a fin). I did this two more times while getting ready for work. After the third vomit scene I started to feel better and drove in. I had a 9:00 meeting which I was required to attend. At 9:15 I politely excused myself from the meeting and walked calmly to the restroom where I vomited again. I wiped the tears from the eyes (I don't hurl pretty), popped a mint in my mouth, straightened the tie and returned to the meeting. My God, I am trooper. Eight hours later I was on my second beer and discussing which waitress at the bar had the best breasts.

Now I am not drinking again for two years. (or this Friday, whichever comes first). I have pain all over my body and my eyes are continuously bloodshot. That isn't going away for some reason. It is probably unrelated to the drinking. I bet I have eye cancer.

I need a drink.

Drunk

What lucky, lucky little people you all are. You are all witnesses to my first ever drunk blog posting. For those of you who can't tell, this is me drunk. What? No, assholes. This ISN'T what I am always like. Drunk posting isn't good enough for you? Well - okay. I'll also share this little secret with you. I'm naked too. How's that for excitement? Drunk and naked and sitting at my computer.

I've been entertaining important people yesterday and today. For the most part this involves shit tons of drinking, listening to old, married men talk about picking up some "bitches," listening to 25 jokes that begin with, "did you hear about the jewish guy who. . . " and getting drunk under the table by 10, 60 year old men. (drunk under the table doesn't sound right. . . Is that right?)

All night tonight I thought of fantastic stories that I was going to tell. Now that I am home and drunk, I can't remember any of them. Oh, I remember one thing I was going to say. You know what happiness is? Sitting in a business meeting and seeing a conservative 28 year old business girl wearing a business girl suit stretch across a conference table to reveal a pink dental floss thong under her business girl suit. Nice. Very nice.

Well fuck me. Now I don't have anything else to say. Fuck it.

Why didn't I get that business girl's number today? I couldn't think of a good line at the end of the meeting. How many times do have to go out with someone before it is no longer okay to ask out a pink thong wearing business girl? Hmm. Maybe I was just kidding a few lines ago when I said something about asking that girl out. Yeah, that was a joke. Totally kidding about that.

You know what? I wish I could be drunk all of the time. Being drunk is fucking awesome. I don't know if you knew that or not. But it is. It rules, actually.

Okay, I sound stupid now so I'm hitting "publish post" and calling it a night.

Word to your collective mothers and such. (Jesus God, you would think being drunk would make me sound cooler and at least a little funnier).

Three Things Happened Today

The time is now 11:00 and I just got home from work. God I love my job. Don't these people know that it is hard to keep a blog going when I spend 15 hours a day sitting in the exact same spot staring at the exact same computer?

Three things happened today:

1) I ate some amazing chicken fried steak. It was awesome. It moved me. That's all I have to say about that.

2) While on the way back from eating said chicken fried steak, I passed a couple who were wearing matching pink polo shirts. I bet they were both under 21. She was wearing jean shorts and he was wearing jeans. His hair was spiked straight up. Man, what has your life come to when you wake up in the morning, you see two pink polos hanging in the closet, and you roll over to your girlfriend and give her a look as if to say,"let's do this." I really hope these people were on vacation or something because otherwise he might have run in to someone he knows. What the hell would he do then? How can you look any buddy in the face while you are wearing the same pink polo shirt as your girlfriend. At least they didn't both have popped collars.

3) I thought about using the restroom to masturbate at about 9:15. I decided against it when I thought about how much work it would be to have to walk all the way to the bathroom, think about sex-like things, keep erection for minutes a time, etc. Way too much work.

A fourth thing happened just right now - I had a realization that I used to have funny things to write approximately 15% of the time. This number has now dropped to less than 5%. God I suck. No masturbation energy and a crap blog. Life is grand. I need a drink.

Burt Reynolds' Mustache

That's right. I'm over there again. Can you believe I am up so early on a Sunday and writing some story for a blog involving the upper lip hair of a 1980s film star? Me either. You know what it means though? That's right. It's that good. Go take a look.

A Date.

Shhh. Don't tell anyone about this. I had a girl over last night. It was what some people call "a date." It wasn't a first date, but rather a come-over-and-watch-a-movie-or-something-kind-of-date. We made some popcorn, we rented a movie. We made out, yada, yada, yada - it was fun. What can I say? I am a romantic, big spender. I bought the microwave popcorn ahead of time. I paid for the Blockbuster rental. I provided the electricity for the TV - I really went all out for this date.

Anyway, there was a small problem - the movie choice. We ended up not watching the movie we rented, and instead watched a movie that I had TIVOd for myself. She found it while scrolling through my recorded list. The movie was The Greatest Game Ever Played. I don't know if you know this movie, but I had not heard of it before I recorded it. It stars the Shia LaBeouf as golfer Francis Ouimet. It is set in 1913 and centers around the U.S. Open Championship.

Before I get into this let me ruin the movie for you. If you don't want to know then stop reading now. Anyway, Francis Ouimet is 20 years old or something and gives up the game of golf at the demand of his father. His father works in a coal mine and believes that golf is for the upper class, etc. (Of course, at that time it was for professionals and the upper class). There is a bunch of dialogue about how he should "know his place" and so on. Well young Francis gets in invitation to play in the U.S. Open and goes against his father's wishes to play in the tournament against the world's greatest golfers. Before the tournament there is a confrontation, and Francis' father demands that he quit. Francis says he can't do that, and the father tells him that he has to find someplace else to live.

So the tournament goes on, and at the end of Round three, Francis is closing in on the professionals (against all odds by the way). On the 18th hole of the final round, Francis has a chance to tie the lead and send the tournament into a three-way playoff. Just before his final putt, the mother throws down her laundry she was hanging out to dry, and runs to the course to witness the final putt. She cheers wildly with the crowd as he makes it. The whole country goes crazy for young Francis, who is an international phenomenon. Even the President comes to watch him play, but his father still won't acknowledge him or his accomplishment. During the final round playoff, it comes down to a four foot putt (or so). If he makes it, he wins the U.S. Open as the first Amateur to ever win the tournament, and only the second American to win. Of course, he sinks it and the crowd goes crazy. They lift him onto their shoulders and carry him around the course. People are throwing money at him, and he shouts, "I can't take it. I can't take it." (Because he is an amateur). He yells to the crowd to pass the hat for his caddy to have the money. He taking money on the shoulders of the crowd for his caddy, and he reaches down to take someone's $1 dollar bill. When he does, he looks into the eyes of who is handing it to him. It is his father - still dirty from the coal mine - waiving a coal dust-covered $1 bill at him. His father looks up at him with a proud smile and they hug each other as the mother looks on from outside the crowd, with tears in her eyes that her husband and son have reconnected, and the father demonstrated his love and pride for his son.

The End.

The problem? I challenge any man in the world to watch that movie and not get a little teary-eyed at the ending. It cannot be done. The father showing how proud he is of the son. The against-all-odds sports story. The super-dramatic climax of the movie with the crowd cheering and the mother crying with pride and love for her family. Jesus God. I am getting a little misty right now just thinking about it.

So we are sitting on my couch watching that, and I am biting my tongue to cause enough pain so that I don't tear up. The credits roll, and she looks over at me, with tears in her eyes, and says, "That was a really good movie." I hop up quickly and say, "yeah, it was okay." But my voice cracked a little. Damn me and my flawed emotions. She didn't say anything, but I think she knew.

Tomorrow night we are watching 300. I can't risk that whole scene again.

Threesome Talks

How is everyone today? I'm busy. Thank you for asking, that is so nice of you. I just reviewed my "to-do list" and it has reached two pages, single spaced, 10 point font. Being the model of organized efficiency that I am, my to-do list is prioritized by immediacy. So the top-priority items are things that need to be completed today, and if all else fails, they must be done tomorrow. I have 13 items in the top-priority category. I may be in trouble. I can't be sure, but I may actually have to consider doing some work at this place where they pay me shit-tons of money and give me a desk and at least four different color pens (and both green and yellow highlighters to work with).

Okay, enough of my whining. I do have a short little story. On Saturday I went out drinking with a medium-sized group of friends. That would be 6. As every conversation I have ever been a part of tends to do, the topic eventually turned to The Sex. I don't know when that phenomenon began exactly, but as I sit here now I cannot recall any conversation I have ever had outside the presence of work or family that didn't turn to sex. I thought about this intriguing factoid a few months ago and reached one conclusion on why this occurs. Men turn the conversation to sex because they want tips and pointers from me. Who wouldn't? Women turn the conversation to sex because they want to bed me. Who wouldn't?

So someone mentions threesomes.

Girl 1 says, "no way am I ever having a threesome!"


Girl 2: "I don't know - I don't think I would. Wait, would it be two guys or two girls?"

Girl 1: "Could be either. Which would you prefer?"

Girl 2: "It would definitely have to be two guys. I want all of the attention on me. I would feel pretty stupid laying there with nothing to do while the guy does stuff to the other girl. What would I do? Just watch?"

Girl 1: "I don't know. You wouldn't want to just sit around. You have to DO stuff."

Girl 2: "If it were two guys I might feel weird with the other guy just sitting there during the lulls in action."

Garrett: (Hoping to keep this conversation going for as long as possible) "You wouldn't let them both do stuff at the same time. If you know what I mean."

Girl 2: Like what?

Garrett: Like double penetration. . .

Girl 2: No fucking way!

Garrett: What about one guy downtown and one guy getting oral? (I don't know why we were using these stupid euphemisms - but we just were. I guess I didn't want to be so vulgar as to talk about double penetration using real names for body parts and what not)

Girl 2: I don't think I could concentrate on the oral.

Girl 3: I've had a threesome.

Everyone turns and stares at Kim who has not been participating much in the sex talks. I don't know a whole hell of a lot about Kim. She seem normal enough. She comes out occasionally with her friend, who is a part of the regular group. She is good looking. She drinks moderately. She dances when appropriate, and laughs at my jokes. She is totally normal in every respect. Like I said, I don't know her that well.

Girl 1: Was it two guys or two girls?

Kim: Two guys. One was my boyfriend. The other guy was his best friend. This was about 6 years ago.

Girl 1: How did it happen. Did you seduce the friend?

Kim: We were all drinking one night, and we all got really, really drunk. My boyfriend and I started making out and his friend kissed me too. Things just went from there.

Girl 2: So how did it work. What did the friend do while you were getting nailed by your boyfriend?

Kim: Well I didn't offer to give him oral. They took turns.

Girl 2: Right, but what did the other guy do when he wasn't doing the nailing?

Kim: You know, he used his hands, talked dirty - that sort of thing.

Girl 2: What do you mean "used his hands?"

Kim: Just rubbed on us.

Girl 2: Us?

Kim: (looking a little red) On my breasts - on him - just rubbed I guess.

Girl 2: He rubbed on him? Where?

Kim: On his ass and stuff.

Girl 2: . . .

Girl 1: . . .

Everyone else: . . .

I took a long drink of my beer, cleared my throat, and began: Your boyfriend's best friend rubbed your boyfriend's ass while he was doing you?

Kim: I guess [She began to look a little nervous what with everyone staring at her]

Garrett: Your boyfriend, thrusting in and out [I make a little hip movement in my seat to emphasize my point here] and at the same time, his best friend's hand is caressing his naked ass?

Kim: Okay, I don't want to talk about this if you guys are going to just make fun of me.

Garrett: Was there any man spanking involved?

Kim: Garrett, stop, okay?

Garrett: Maybe your boyfriend had hip problems, and his friend was just spotting him to help with the thrusting.

Kim: GARRETT!

Garrett: He didn't slip in a finger in, well you know where, did he?

Kim: Okay, I'm leaving.

Garrett: Okay, in all seriousness. Kim, I am going to tell you this as seriously as I can. You got seduced by two clearly bisexual men.

Kim: Shut up. They were just in the moment.

Garrett: No, I have to disagree. Never, not even in the moment, do 100% straight men stroke other naked man asses. They have probably been getting naked with each other since high school and try to seduce each others' girlfriends every chance they get. I'd say there is a better than average chance they liquored you up and used you as a gay sex scene prop.

Kim looked at her beer for a few seconds, then shook her head looked up at us and said, "I fucking hate you guys."

What can I say? I am all about ruining the fond threesome memories of others. However, I can say that I have now firmly made up my mind that if I have a threesome possibility I will only accept on the grounds that it is two women and not another guy with a girl. What if I am mid-thrust and I get an ass-rub? I have to think it would throw off my rhythm at the very least.

Then again, who couldn't use a good ass rub and some dirty talk during mid-deed?

Comment Responding 2d

If the last post was the worst post ever (according to some), this will be the second worst ever. So just prepare yourself now. What will follow are very poor attempts at witty banter. If you are easily shocked - please do not read on. (I can't lie - there is nothing shocking in this post - I just wanted to get you to read the whole thing)

From I'm Exhausted:

At August 02, 2007 6:55 AM, TK said...

What the FUCK? Man, your bathroom is like a war zone - shit in the trash can, vomit everywhere... how do you ever go back? And how do you ever have company over again?

Who can you trust, Garrett?

GR Response: I know. As I was cleaning up vomit, I was thinking to myself, "I am 31 years old and I am cleaning a friend's vomit after a night of drinking - what has become of my life." My bathroom has seen some hard times. It seems obvious that I am going to have to install security cameras in the bathrooms of my house. Come on over ladies!

At August 02, 2007 8:39 AM, onthevirg said...

Man walking into a room that's been stewing in puke all day. That's the opposite of good times right there. I think your friend deserves a dickpunch with no warning whatsoever the next time you two meet.

At the very least you need to get shit faced on several types of alcohol (thereby insuring vomiting) at his house warming party. Then proceed to puke at random around his house. Or him. Take your pick.

GR Response: It was very much the opposite of good times. He made a half-assed attempt at cleaning it up - but you could tell it was just kind of smeared around. Fucking ass. I am still pissed about it. Most of the "chunks" were gone, but not all. There were still some in the not-in-plain-site places like behind the toilet and on the wall behind the trashcan. Fucker. I am plotting revenge. A dickpunch - although satisfying - is not nearly harsh enough revenge. Puke would be fitting, but I am not a good vommiter. I tend to, you know, burst blood vessels in my eyes and shit when I hurl - so that is out. I'll think of something good.

At August 02, 2007 8:50 AM, New Texan said...

Well, if your friend did find a house in the area, I would suggest you take your revenge there... nothing says "new home smell" like a turd cooked on a skillet all day while he was at work. The great part of this is that you don't really destroy anything (other than the skillet) and the smell will take hours to go away. Best to do this when it is too cold outside (tough around here) to open a bunch of windows.

GR Response: That actually made me a little sick to my stomach to think of a turd cooking in a skillet. I don't know if I have the stomach to sauté a piece of shit. Maybe a crock pot full of shit? A crap piece baking in the oven? I feel ill now.

At August 02, 2007 11:15 AM, Erica AP said...

What about using the word, "Shlong" instead of "Wang"? Just and idea. It's pretty fun to
say out loud too.

GR Response: Shlong just might work. I just googled shlong to see if that was the correct spelling (apparently both shlong and schlong are accepted). Welcome to me getting fired any day now.

At August 02, 2007 11:29 AM, Jason said...

Just think - if the evening had evolved into a gay scene(which is cool, btw), you would've gotten off AND avoided the mass cleaning.

GR Response: Jason, I am not sure how it could evolve into a gay scene. How do those things work? Who decides each party's respective roles? I mean, in Brokeback - one cowboy turned the other over, spit, and went to town. In real life, wouldn't there have to be more conversation than that? What if cowboy number 2 had said, "Whoa there [cowboy reference], I don't want to be on bottom. You be on bottom." Then they would have had to stop and discuss the whole thing - and it would have just ended very, very awkwardly. Obviously, I don't understand these things very well.

At August 02, 2007 1:46 PM, mindy said...

This is the sexiest post I've ever read. Thank you.

GR Response: All of my posts are sexy. I exude sexiness, and it just comes out in the writing. I can't help it. It just does. It is my gift to you, Mindy. I give you the gift of sexiness. Take it and enjoy it.

At August 02, 2007 2:17 PM, A Lover and a Fighter said...

garrett- your friends may suck. i suggest getting new ones.

on another note, i will never piss off new texan. he's a vicious fothermucker.

GR Response: I am thinking about getting new friends. Where did these friends come from? Maybe I should just stop inviting people over to my house because everyone that comes over seems to have weird bathroom habits that I don't want to deal with. (and I am now scared of New Texan a bit)

At August 02, 2007 2:55 PM, Scottsdale Girl said...

I should send this post to the boyfriend, he was RILLY angry at me earlier because I left the dogs IN. They apparently shit all over the house.

But, you win.

GR Response: I have a very big dog, and she has, in the past, shit in the house. I will gladly scrub dog shit out of individual rug fibers any day over cleaning vomit.

At August 02, 2007 3:01 PM, kelsi said...

this is why blogging is awesome. because now? we know everything.
thank you so much for sharing... everything.

GR Response: I'm glad you like to hear it all, but to be honest it is not just people that read the blog that get to hear about my love for Drew Barrymore in Playboy, circa 1995 - or my love of masturbation - or my love of Barrymore-related masturbation. I tell everyone. I'm a sharer.

At August 02, 2007 3:43 PM, blythe said...

two words: upper deck.

do it. for revenge. not for fun at home alone.

GR Response: How you know the term "upper deck" has me very worried. Have you done this before? How does it work? Do you hover above the tank? What if you miss? Do you sit on the tank? What if the tank breaks from sitting on it and you get a porcelain shard to the rectum? Please report back on these things.

At August 02, 2007 4:02 PM, Mortarbored said...

One time I had to clean up my girlfriend's puke after she projectile vomited in a stranger's bathroom. I wiped with tissue, and we just walked out and left. Classy shit.

GR Response: If it was a stranger's bathroom - that is the only possible course of action. Cover and run. Get the hell out of there. What a trooper for cleaning up a girlfriend's puke though. She must have done something good for you to wipe the contents of her stomach with a tissue. I think I would have just grabbed the girl, locked the door behind me, told the host, "hey your bathroom is locked and there is no one in there" and then fled the scene.

At August 02, 2007 4:21 PM, Snow White said...

Okay, I read through the steps twice looking for the prefix "ex" before the word friend. Did this friend at least have an excuse when you called? Oh, and could staying up late and drinking have anything to do with why the meetings have been so hard to sit through?

No matter, I'm glad you're back posting!

GR Response: His excuse was, "Dude, I cleaned it up! What's your problem?" I'll still be his friend because I am certain that I will, one day, do something to him that is just as bad. You know - fuck is girlfriend - get him fired - accidentally stab him - something along those lines.

At August 02, 2007 10:24 PM, carrie said...

You are funny!!! you rule!! :)

GR Response: Thank you Carrie. You receive the Number One Commenter of the Day Award. You other people could learn from Carrie. (I promise I am not "carrie" leaving comments for myself).

At August 03, 2007 4:53 AM, HAR said...

I don't know which is funnier, your post or the comments.

"I think your friend deserves a dickpunch with no warning whatsoever the next time you two meet."

The mental image made me lmao.

GR Response: HAR - The post is most definitely funnier. Although I guess the comments do have some humor to them. A dickpunch is only funny if you are the dickpuncher and not the dickpunchee.

At August 03, 2007 11:18 AM, DanjerusKurves said...

When your friend gets a new place, try prying up random corners of the carpet and placing anchovies or raw shrimp underneath ... ;)

GR Response: That is a suggestion I just actually might be able to pull off. Except for - how do I smuggle raw shrimp into his house? Friend - "Dude, you smell a little like fish." GR - "What? Fish? I don't smell fish." Friend - "I definitely smell a fish-like odor" GR - "Tell you girlfriend to clean that shit out every once in a while then!" (Okay - maybe that was over the line)

At August 03, 2007 11:46 AM, So@24 said...

ahhh, the ol' cleaning up your friends' stomach contents. i love the nights when you dont even know which of your friends to call a "cunt"... it could have been any of them.

GR Response: Friends suck - but I will happily call all of them a cunt - I don't mind - I don't have to pick just one.

At August 03, 2007 6:31 PM, blythe said...

hey there,

since saturday night's alright for fighting, i would imagine that friday's fantastic for upper decking. let me know how it goes?

xoxo
-b

GR Response: Blythe: Did you just quote an Elton John song on my blog? I love the xoxo at the bottom of your comment about upper decking. And the sign off of -b. I feel like we are BFF now. Except for your obsession with upper decking. I am going to need some time to get past that.

At August 04, 2007 10:32 PM, dmbmeg said...

blythe-
my exact comment til I read yours: two words: top shelf

I can only imagine we meant the same thing.

Garrett-
you and your friends sound like a bunch of alcoholics. I suggest getting help.

GR Response: DmbMeg: How could I possibly have guessed that you would most relate to Blythe's comment. You two are like degenerate kindred spirits. My friends ARE alcoholics. Not me though. I can quit any time I want. I just don't want to. Instead, I think I'll just get rid of my friends. Getting drunk alone in my darkened house while playing "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" on my 6-string sounds better anyway.

At August 05, 2007 2:05 PM, Winter said...

I disagree with Dmbmeg, I suggest you drink more and then post pictures.

GR Response: Pictures of what? Not the vomit I hope. If I posted pictures while drunk, they would just all end up being pictures of my penis. No one wants that. Trust me.

At August 05, 2007 7:02 PM, Irish and Jew said...

Hmmm revenge... I really hope u come up with something good. May I suggest filling all the bottles of booze at yr place with water. Very very cruel.

~Irish

PS: I used to teach waterskiing :)

GR Response: You used to teach waterskiing? I am now officially fascinated by you. Next summer is the summer of learning to barefoot. I will either die from it - or become irresistible to women. I can't wait.

Comment Responding

I have been so bad about responding to comments lately. For that, I apologize. To make up for it, I am making sure I respond to every past comment (Disclaimer: I am only starting with the post before last, and I am not necessarily promising that I will respond to comments in this post). The best way to do this is for me to just do a full post with your comments in it. This makes it easier for you to read because you don't have to go back and read the old posts and comments to see the hilarious things I wrote and will write. It also makes is harder for me because I have to cut and paste and format and shit.

If you are reading this site semi-regularly (meaning you stumble back in here every other month when you are drunk) and don't read the comments you are missing out because 1) there are people writing shit in the comments that is much funnier than anything I throw together, 2) the comments section is how you find the hot girl-bloggers, and 3) Occasionally I post a link in the comments section to a photo of my naked ass. Okay, I don't actually do that, but If you want to see my naked ass I will happily photograph it and send you a copy. (P.S. - Before responding, check yourself to make sure you are okay with light to moderate ass-hair).

From The Return Of Lisa:

CJ said...

dmbmeg- I've been locked out of my dorm room many times, but I was in the opposite situation... the sexin' wasn't happening inside the dorm room as much as it was on the outside of it.

Yeah, those were good drunkin' times.

Fun fact about the University of Oregon dorm rooms: the same guy who designed them, also designed the majority of prisons up and down the west coast...

GR Response: Why is it that DmbMeg gets more comments here than I do? Do you mean you got locked out of your dorm room and decided to go ahead and have the sex in the hall? If so, very cool. I have never done that, but I did once break up a fight between two drunk girls who had ripped each other's shirts and were semi-topless. I accidentally touched a breast during the melee. Damn, the good times I used to have. Crazy good times.

Snow White said...

Hmmm... I think some guys shave "down there" 'cause they think they're more likely to get,um, a little mouth action? Sorry, I guess I don't have your way with tact. *grin*

GR Response: Are you telling me that If I went bald "down there," there would be girls who might otherwise refuse oral action that would now gladly "go down town?" I have never had a girl refuse a blow job by saying, "I'm sorry I would like to, but you just have too much damn pubic hair." Normally, the response is, "I'm sorry, but if you want a blow job you need 10 more dollars."

Winter said...

I like the idea of it being pink and in the shape of a heart.

GR Response: If you ever find a guy that will shave it in the shape of heart, and color it pink, you have got a hold on to that guy because you will never ever meet another guy more pussy-whipped than that.

HAR said...

"I never fight with the ladies because 1) I am not a douche, and 2) The hot girls don't really "go out with me" per se." High five.

GR Response: Hive five right back at you. Was the high five for not being a douche or because I don't get any action?

TK said...

You're psychotic. Who on Earth asks that question? Awesome, man. I'd never do it, but I sure as hell am glad that I know someone who would.

GR Response: TK, I can honestly say without bullshit that I didn't think the question was THAT bad. I have since polled my friends in real life, and on this blog, and have learned that no one, anywhere, can believe I asked that. I mean, I knew it was somewhat inappropriate. I knew it was a little harsh, insensitive and possibly offensive, but I didn't think it was really, really offensive or anything. Turns out, I may be a heartless prick. Who knew? You saying, "you're psychotic" is one of the tamer responses I have received. Most people have called me a fucking asshole, homophobe, tactless fucking prick, or (my favorite) a miserable heartless son of a bitch. You live, you learn I guess.

onthevirg said...

That has to be a 985 out of 10 on inappropriate break room banter scale. I applaud your fine work sir. On the plus side, though she may never speak to you again, at least she didn't straight kick you in the nuts.

GR Response: You're right, of course. I guess I am lucky I didn't a kick to the ball baggage. However, she is speaking to me. She didn't seem that mad about it the next day. I don't think they are back together, but I'm afraid to ask. Shit - I wonder if she will tell him my question if they get back together?

Mortarbored said...

I just found this by reading the blogrolls of people on my blogroll while at work.

I can't believe you actually asked that. Was it one of those immediate regrets where you start wincing right as you start the last word of the question?

GR Response: I knew it sounded bad when I asked it - and that I should have set it up better maybe. But I didn't really expect her anger. I did wince a little as it was coming out. Maybe that is why she reacted the way she did. I've heard that women can sense weakness. They are exactly like wild animals.

kelsi said...

i was going to comment on the post, but then i realized that there's a club here that i'm not part of. :(

nonetheless - i'm totally into breaking into conversations and making everyone all awkward, so - she's clearly waaaaaay too uptight to be dealt with like a human being, if she couldn't shrug off the suggestion that she's been married to a gay guy for the last couple of years.

just sayin'.

GR Response: There's no club to be a part of. Most of these people just showed up here one day and started making fun of me. Like my birthday parties, only with more anonymity. Now if only I could get my uncle to comment by telling sexually explicit jokes to my friends it would be just like home.

Thanks for being on my side. I keep telling people who tell me what an ass I am that she needs to lighten up. My personal belief is that she reacted so strongly because she feels, deep down, that I may be right.


Okay - that is all I've got. The cutting and pasting is killing me. Maybe I'll get to the next post later. Word to your mothers and what not.

I've Been Away

As I alluded to in my previous post, I was out last week in some meetings. I was totally gone Thursday and Friday (on assignment, as I like to say), and I avoided computer contact most of the weekend. What did this blogging semi-hiatus make me realize? I read way too many blogs.

Total number of non-spam, work related e-mails in my inbox Monday morning: 7

Total number of blog posts unread, according to Google Reader: 100+

How many is 100+ exactly? I don't really know, but I know that I deleted 20 Overheard in the Office posts and it didn't drop below 100+.

Either I read way too much crap other people have to write, or you other bloggers write way too damn much. So, today I am catching up on reading blogs, responding to comments and posting. After, you know, I read those seven e-mails and check my one voice mail.

On a side note: I passed a car this weekend with a bumper sticker pimping Texas Christian University - The Horned Frogs. The Horned Frog is also known as the Horny Toad. Which led me to the divine revelation that is the TCU Horny Toad's Football Team's new slogan:

"TCU Horny Toads - we have just enough pent-up energy to KICK YOUR ASS!"

Get it? They are both horny AND Christian. Get it? These ideas are gold people.

I'm Exhausted

I'm exhausted. I know when I begin with a sentence as dramatic as that you expect a fantastically great story probably involving hours (minutes?) of sexual adventure. Normally, if there is one thing I am known for it is sexual adventure. Sexual adventure and waterskiing - those are two things I do well. In reality, I am not known for either of those things. I would like to be though. I would also like to be known for having a large wang. (Although I might actually have to have a large wang to be known for such a feature - but I was not so gifted - it can still be a fantasy though). Come to think of it I would also like to be known for vehemently opposing use of the word 'wang' or writing about 'wangs' in blogs posts.

Anyway - I am exhausted. My days this week have been spent in meetings. I am not talking about those pussy meetings where you sit in a conference room for 30 minutes to discuss your projects and action items and planning your agenda for your next 30 minute meeting. I am talking about all day, ass numbing, want to slit your wrists using your ball point pin, meetings. The kind where you listen to one guy drone on for 6 hours while staring at a giant projection screen on the wall and day dreaming about whether his next slide will be purple or pink.

My nights this week have involved nothing but gin, porn and guitar. I had a friend staying with me this week while he was looking at houses around the area. He did his thing during the day - and we met up each night for heavy drinking. This always devolved into watching porn. When we got bored with that we drank some more. To make it interesting, when I got super drunk each night this week I pulled out my guitar and clumsily played 1990s alt rock songs. I rule by the way.

[After re-reading that paragraph it all sounds pretty gay what with the porn and guitar playing. I promise it wasn't. It was cool. I rule. Just trust me. I rule.]

Last night was my friend's last night here. We drank until 3. I went to work at 8. He left sometime while I was at work. When I got home tonight my plan was to watch Entourage and go to bed (probably masturbate first, but I didn't think I needed to share everything - I might have thought about Drew Barrymore in Playboy, circa 1995 while masturbating - there now you know everything).

Instead, I am came home to a bathroom covered in vomit. Apparently my friendly house guest decided to throw up at some point last night or this morning. He apparently decided to miss the toilet and throw up all over the floor, walls, toilet and door to the bathroom. He also apparently decided to drunkenly try and clean the bathroom using hand towels and Formula 409.

So instead of a lovely night with just me and Drew, I spent the evening scooping chunks of vomit from under my baseboards.

Five steps to cleaning your friend's vomit from your bathroom:

1) Curse like a motherfucking sailor. Use the word 'cunt' no less than four times.

2) Call friend, use the word 'cunt' at least 3 times.

3) Don surgical gloves, acquire spray bottle full of bleach. Curse some more.

4) Use no less than two rolls of paper towels and one toothbrush - scooping, cleansing and brushing.

5) Plot revenge.


So that was my night. Now I don't have time for a good post because I have been knuckle deep in matter that was previously in my friends stomach.

I hope you had a good night, though.