Monday, May 30, 2005

Original post date - Monday, May 30, 2005
WP's engagement party

Yesterday was ZestyItalian's little sister's engagement party. Got there around 6:30pm. Drank way too much beer. A bottle of jagermeister went missing after about 2 hours. I assume I had something to do with it but I don't remember. I got home sometime this morning which was probably not a great idea considering I also had to work sometime this morning. At 6:15 am I got drivin to work by my roommate, who was none too happy to do so, and sat there doing nothing. My co-workers informed me that they could tell I went out last night, because apparently, I still smell like booze. I'm not surprised considering how much of it I consumed. Oh well, I'm tired and I smell like booze. At least now I don't have to tell people what I did this weekend.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Original post date - Thursday, May 26, 2005
Woody hates people.

Ok, let me start by saying that I hate people. I'm not racist, because I don't hate one spacific group of people. I hate people in general. Aside from my close group of friends and family, I have decided that the rest of the world sucks. I hate people from other countries. I hate people from this country. I hate people from other states. I hate people from this state. What makes me hate so much you may ask? A lot of things, but the one that is twisting my nuts up right now is traffic and the people who cause it. Pretty much everyone on the road right now is a douche bag (I don't know if I spelled "douche" right. I don't douche, have never douched before, and I don't plan to start douching, so why should I worry about the spelling of the word?). "What makes them a douche bag?" you might ask, well let me tell you. If you have ever sat in traffic wondering why everyone is slowing down and what the hold up is, then when you get up to the problem, you slow down to catch a glimpse......DOUCHE! Yep, that's right. You are part of the probelm, not part of the solution. Dammit, just mind your f-ing beez-wax and move along! Why do people crash in the first place? Because they are not payng attention. They're driving like they are on a Sunday drive with Miss Daisy!!! Dammit!! Get out of my WAY!!!! I have no tolerance for people with no driving agenda. They should stay home. If you have to be somewhere, drive like you have to be somewhere, dammit! If you're gonna drive slow, stay in the slow lane! Especially the oldies. Crap, don't even get me started!! Dammit, you gray haired bastards, move along! You would think that they would wanna get more done considering that they are running out of time, you know what I mean? If I was 80 and gonna die soon, you can sure bet sweet Linda's ass I'd be driving with some purpose.
Original post date - May 26, 2005
Shopping

I've noticed that meeting girls is like shopping for cold medicine. Bear with me on this one and I think you'll see what I mean. This past weekend, I met a group of girls. 2 of these girls were flirting, but in different ways. The first girl seemed very forward. Let me explain what I mean by giving you a brief transcript of the conversation:
Woody: Hi, I'm Woody, wanna come back to my place for chocolate milk and sex on my pool table?
Slut: Hmm, I've never had sex on a pool table.
Woody: I can fix that.
Slut: But I've also never had sex on the beach and I'd like that more.
Woody: Well, then I guess I'll see you at the beach later. (wink & smile)
Slut: Well I guess so. (smiling as I walk away)
This may seem far fetched for you to believe, but with my job at the club I meet a lot of girls and since I work there, they feel comfortable about me approaching them to flirt. Back to the night in question. After a while, I go over to the Slut's friends because there are a few hotties in the group. I start talking to GoodGirl. GoodGirl is a sweet girl, just moved here a few months ago from the Carolinas. She is interested, I can tell, but not the type to go home immediately. It will take a few dates since she still has some self respect and decency about her.I tell them (they are in the same group of girls) to go to a local bar that stays open until 5am so we can all hang out. I pretty much ignore Slut as she is not quite as interesting as GoogGirl, but I give Slut the minimum required amount of attention to keep her interested. After a while, GoogGirl wants to play pool, so I tell her to go to the table to set up and I will be there in a bit. I then go over to Slut and tell her "let's go to the beach." She has had a few drinks, I have had about 5 jager shots and 3 beers, so it's a good idea to all involved. We go outside, make the 5 minute drive to the beach. It's not really all that romantic, but I'm horned up like a 4-balled tomcat and she's got that Neve Campbell on coke thing going for her. She strips, I strip and my milky white ass is glowing in the moonlight. After about 8 minutes (I kid you not) she tells me to hurry up and cum, she already has twice. Now I'm good but not that good, but I don't ask any questions, I just throw the hot butter in the pan, make the googely face and finish up (I found out later she was all coked up...hmm, nice girl). I now have sand all over my face, legs and arms and she has a crack full of Delray Beach. I could probably put my head up to her clam and hear the ocean.
We go back to the bar. We walk back in and GoodGirl has been looking for me. She has this look on her face like a little kid who has lost their parents at the department store. Poor girl. I go back over and she accuses me of hooking up with her friend in the parking lot. I tell her I did not hook up in the parking lot (not a lie...it was the beach) and looks at me suspiciously. I admit to kissing her friend, but tell her it is just drunken shenanegans. She is drunk and doesn't care. She thinks I'm sweet and tells me she hasn't been laid in 6 months. Why do nice girls do this?
She asks me to drive her home and we hook up in my car for a half hour. I tell her we should stop because we're moving too fast. She melts. Dammit...too easy.
Anyway, the point of the story is this: all girls have certain things to get them going, certain buttons to push; but you have to recognize what product you are shopping for.There are two kinds of product: the Slut and the GoodGirl. Kind of like there are two kinds of cold medicine: fast acting(Slut) and long lasting(GoodGirl). When do you wanna feel good? Now or later? See what I mean?
Original post date - Thursday, May 26, 2005
The Zesty Bachelore Party / Election Day 2000

ZestyItalian's bachelor party was sick. It was a few years ago -on election day 2000 to be exact- and me and my girlfriend were in a limbo state. Kinda broken up but not mad at each other any more. Burly was visiting from Austin TX and he and I were in charge of most of the party.
11:15 am at Hooters (they open at 11:30). Now, obviously, people don't formally frequent a fine establishment like hooters for the excellent cuisine. They do it for the boobies. And today would be no different. It was to be me, Burly, Zesty, Scuba, Abromowitz and a host of other delinquents ready to lay waste to the Boca Raton Hooters. Burly (who goes about 6'3" and 275) and I are the first ones there and are looking in the windows before they unlock the doors. That should have clued them in as to what was in store.
11:30am Doors unlock, we don't even have a table yet and we're yelling for beer! We need no menus, don't care who our waitress is, as long as she is properly equipped with boobs, beer, and hands and feet to go get more beer-in that spacific order. Burly and I are 2 pitchers up on everyone before the rest of the boys arrive. As far as what happened for most of our stay at Hooters, I don't know. I remember being told to be quiet more than once, that I was scaring some of the children, and that we had actually exceeded our limit for pitchers allowed (apparently, Hooters has a rule of no more than 2 pitchers of watered down beer per person at a table...not sure if it's true or urban myth, but that's what they told me).
6:30 pm I am so drunk I am hitting on a barstool. I don't know what is worse, the fact that I was hitting on an inanimate object, or the fact that according to me she was digging me "Dude, she's all over me!" I exclaimed with excitement to my friends. Right now, drunk is an understatement.
I get a ride back to my girlfriend/ex-girlfriend's house -we'll call her C-Minus. C-Minus is none too pleased to see me in my current state and advises me to take a nap before going to Zesty's house to meet the bachelor buss.
8:00pm Now say what you want about C-Minus and her shortcomings as a girlfriend, but she understood that I could not sellout on my best friends bachelor party, no matter how drunk I was. She gets me up and I reluctantly get dressed. I have missed the buss and don't care. She tells me she will drive me to the nudie bar. What a girl. I knew I loved her for a reason.
8:30pm I get to diamond dolls. I am still wicked drunk, however, there is something that happens when a drunk man sees neon lights and knows they preclude nudity. It awakens something inside his soul. I could feel my second wind...and that wind was blowing in my pants. Woody is happy. I stroll in and because I was expecting a big day I have a few hundred dollars....now I'm no donald trump mind you, but I have more than enough to make me popular. I walk in, see my friends, throw a casual hello gesture towards them and pull a chair right to the edge of the stage. I turn my hat backwards, and take out a wad of cash. In my mind, I am snoop dogg and these are my ho's. My pimp hand is strong and I inform the waitress I will be double fisting this evening and to keep 2 beers in my hands at all times. She does this and hijinx ensues. I meet two lovely girls who are "just working their way through school." Why is it that all strippers are "just working their way through school?" Even the 45 year old one with tits drooping to her waist, who has a daughter also working at the club selling shots and 4 more kids at home in the doublewide...even she is "just working her way through school." Yeah, I'm there to find a wife. Anyway, I have met my ladies for the night and they accompany me back to my group of friends. I introduce Marilyn and Alexis to the boys (I love stripper names "Lexus to the Main Stage!!! Lexus!!). A different stripper comes over and flashes her clam-piercing to the boys. I miss and want her to do it again. She yells at me...apparently, they don't like it when you refer to their peircing as an "earing in the meat curtains." Being as intoxicated as I am, I inform her she is a stripper and showing me her bits is her job "now take off your gear and lemme see that shit." The enormous house of a man who is standing by the door informs me to be nice or I will be "escorted out." Considering that this guy probably took a shit bigger than me this morning, I agree to be nice.
Sometime in the wee hours of the night: It is late and we are done. We are all horny, alone and going back to a hotel. The idea is kicked around to continue the party back at the hotel but no one is sure how to order strippers "to go" and no one really cares. We all exit the club and pile onto the party buss (how ironic that it is a short buss). Once on the bus, Burly passes out and we all agree he needs to be mushroom thumped for being 1st to pass out. I agree to do it since I am nimblest of the group at this time, not to mention, when guys are drunk, it is an honor to be chosen to humiliate a friend when he is passes out...kind of like being knighted in England. I stand on the seat next to Burly, weapon in hand, and thump him once on the forehead. Everyone enjoys this thouroughly, so Burly's little bro -we'll call him MiniBurl-MiniBurl decides he is gonna thump him next. He steps up on the seat and makes his approach. Negative ghostrider, the pattern is full!!! He has woken the beast and Burly is angry. He punches lil' bro in the nuts and we all laugh (except for MiniBurl). We get back to the hotel and pass out.
When I wake up in the morning, George W. Bush is our new president. He would have been proud.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Original post date - May 25, 2005
Breaking Even

Well, well, well, here I am at my computer at almost 1am EST. I just got done playing poker with the boys (ZestyItalian, Scuba, BK, MountainGrown,Barkeep) and I broke even.
That seems to be a theme in my life. Breaking even. Every time I think the bottom is gonna drop out and hell is gonna open up and swallow me like a hooker does some $25 dollar load, it doesn't. Something comes along (no pun intended) and sets things right again. I lose a heartfelt relationship at a young age, I meet a great girl immediately after to counteract my self-loathing. I lose her and am feeling down in the dumps about women in general for a few months...BOOM! Along comes the girl of my dreams. But, it also works in the inverse. The girl of my dreams has me feeling great. Smack!!! Right in the nuts. She dumps me. That leaves me where my current state of mind resides....hating women for what they are....lovinng them for what they appear to be. You see even. Hate plus love equals nothing. It is a catch 22 you see. I love women, love hanging out with them, being with them. Even love having a girlfriend when I am blessed with one. But then something happens (not my fault either...I hear all you women out there!!!) that turns the whole thing on it's shit. I get screwed. Well, I don't know about you, but when I get screwed I srcew back. You are thinking "Woody, Why?" Well, what do you do when you get dumped....you go out and meet some nice girl or guy to make you happy for a while (The Rebound) then you screw them over...even if you don't mean to, you do. It's the circle of life. Yeah, you thought Lion King was just a movie about some freaking lions and monkeys. Nope. That circle of life bullshit is the truth. What goes around comes around and most of the time when it comes around it slaps you right in the ass!
Original post date - Wednesday, May 25, 2005
In the beginning there was...crap.

Good evening, folks, this is my first blog. I don't really even know what a blog is. It's a funny sounding word...kind of sounds like the noise your stomach makes after a long night of drinking but before you take that all so lovely and necessary first shit in the morning. You know what I'm talking about. But I digress.
The first blog:
As I write this I sit at a job that requires me to answer a phone and key limited information into a computer. I swear the freaking gorilla "Amy" from the movie Congo could do this job. But it does give me time to catch up on my correspondence. Well, ladies and genitalmen...Sunday is my best friend's little sister's engagement party. What does this mean? Well, since I have known her since she was about 5 years old, she is like my little sister, so it's pretty important. Also, since I'm 27, and all of my friends are either married or moving out of routine visiting distance, this means that it is one of the rare occasions that we can all hang out together. Which means World War .3 blood alcohol level. I mean, I may be kinda treading water in my life right now, professionally speaking. But as far as drinking, I set challenging goals for myself. This means a 12 pack of Miller and half a bottle of Jagermeister. Scheizen!! Yeah, I know. But how many times does someone get married? And the boys will all be there: ZestyItalian, Scuba, HosefAbromiwitz, HebrewHammer, BK and me (Woody). All will be with dates (wives or the girls they will probably marry) except for me...hmmm. Maybe that means something. I should probably keep a girl around longer than just to get her name and ask "Was that good for you? Yeah? Great, um, can you go get me taco bell before you go home?" Ok, so I'm not that bad (all the time) but I'm getting pretty close. Women complain that all men want to do is sleep with them. However, I seem to have no problem going home every other night with these same women. What are they thinking?!?! Are they really believing that if they sleep with me I will moved by their performance enough to deny all others and make them my bride. Ok, I'll be sure to get right on that!!! Don't get me wrong. I don't see all women in that light. There a few girls who I don't have sex with but hook up with and I am friends with them. I respect them. They know the deal, they're not deluded about anything that may happen and regardless of if we kiss or there is some serious suckage, the friendship stays intact and I know that they see other guys and that's ok. I don't know what that says about today's moral fabric, but meaningless, minor hook-ups with friends has got to be better that nameless, meaningless sex with someone "just because you wanted to christen the pool table."
I don't know. Maybe I'm jaded, maybe I follow the Coca-Cola theory: I have a product similar to many others on the market, but I believe mine to be superior in many ways. If you just try it, I'm sure you'll like it. If not, go drink a fucking pepsi...at least I got my fifty cents worth."