Creepy bathroom guy

Today, we need to discuss something that plagues both males and females when out and about on the town…this guy:

The creepy bathroom attendant! This guy or girl depending on where you are at, is lurking in the restroom to soap your hands and give your towels. On top of that, they try to sell you goods and various items for your consumption… out of the fucking bathroom. Seriously guy, you want me to buy your nuts after I was just handling mine? Piss off!

Though, its not the items sold or how they pressure you into hygiene. It is there blatant lack of respect for man code and their request for a tip afterwards. Lets review for the ladies out there who may not know a few key points of man code in the bathroom (or those that think man code is lame):

No urinal shall be used when the adjacent urinal is in use by another man. Exemptions: At sporting events where there are not enough urinals or there is a line, adjacent urinals may be used.

In the event that both outside urinals are occupied, this is a good time to check hair for balding spots, scratch itchy regions, tie shoes, or check voicemail. Do no, repeat, do not, use the middle urinal unless there is a line.

When entering a bathroom with several urinals (4 or more), and one of the end ones is in use, use a urinal no farther than 2 away for the occupied urinal, but never adjacent too it. Standing too far away communicates a fear of male genitalia, which can be construed as overcompensation for the appreciation of other men.

When using the urinal, do not speak to another man or begin a conversation. It is acceptable to continue a previously started conversation, but only if the other man continues it, and subjects are limited to sports, girls, evening plans, and food. If the other man lets the conversation drop, you are obligated to do the same until use of the urinal is concluded.

When using the urinal, keep your eyes on your own equipment or the wall immediately in front of you. Failure to comply will result in the loss of man status.

Upon completion of the urinal use, zip up at the urinal before turning to face anyone else. Previous conversations can re-start once the zip up procedure is completed. NOTE: if another man fails to zip up, it is NOT helpful to point out his mistake. Allow him to realize this on his own; do not make awkward comments or focus on the unzipped region.

Speaking is allowed if required, such as the circumstance of standing in line at a ball game and needing to communicate who is next. However, if possible, insert awkward head nods, grunts, and other non verbals wherever possible.

When using the sink, it acceptable to continue a conversation. Even here however, it is not the appropriate time to begin a conversation. You’re in the bathroom, why would you be talking?

 

That last one, why are you talking? That applies to all in the bathroom, including you creepy bathroom guy. There is no need for me to buy any of your shit, nor is there a need for you to soap my hands and pass me a towel. I am not a cripple and I sure as hell don’t want to talk to you. Oh, you want a tip too? Here’s a tip, get the fuck outta my way or I will beat your ass for being lame. Seriously, I am sure there is good money in working in a men’s room, but that’s like saying that you are homeless for the tax write offs… it doesn’t make any fucking sense.

To the owner if the establishment, if you have an attendant in the mens room, I will never return to your place of business again. I don’t care if they think it is Klassy in Jersey, it’s not and you should be shot for thinking so.

 

For the people that still don’t have a clue what I have written about, please watch the video below:

JP goes Viral!

 

 

Briefly interrupt your service

 

 

Few reasons why I have not been on in a while:

1. Since I quit my job, they have given me a replacement to train. This means I have the “new guy” sitting next to me all day as I show him the ropes. This will go on until I leave. This means no blog, Twitter, or sexy G-Chat messages ya’ll are used to. I feel disconnected.
2. I am still recovering from all the parties that have been thrown in my honor.
3. I have been very distracted with some new things in my life.
4. Getting ready to move has been a bit stressful.
5. By the end of the day, I have nothing more to say, to anyone.

 

I have been tempted to do V-Log if I can figure it out. So, stay tuned and I will try to bring you a few stories from the past few weeks.

 

Thanks for dropping in,

JP

The Tracksuit Mafia!

What do you get when 4 assholes dressed alike in tracksuits? That’s right, you get the #tracksuit mafia. An idea months in the making… I would have posted this yesterday, but there were issues.[1] Where do I begin? Well, I guess a good old fashion time line is in order.[2]

The Tracksuit Mafia...

• Made a trip to Chocolate bears house and picked up a bottle of Jack, Bushmills, Vodka, 2 Jagers, a Red Bull, and a pimp cup.

Pimp Cup in Hand... Yes that went everywhere with us.

• Back to the Honey Comb Hideout for an hour long pre-game.

Chocolate Bear "thugged out" with Winston

• Crew shows up and nick-names were picked. I was Micky 4 knuckles.[3]
• The power hour concludes and we roll to our normal spot where we met up with some friends. Our bar tab was dutifully named “the guido’s” tab.

Gotta love your "friends"

• We did not pay for that tab… someone we met there did, cause they thought we were awesome.[4] Also, there were some really weird guys trying to convince Chocolate Bear he needed to fight in the MMA. It was weird.

Guy that picked up our tab

• We decided we needed to go to the local strip club, because, well, where else do 4 guys in tracksuits go? On the way there, we were cut off by some drunk asshole that called the big guy a “nigger”. Now, usually there would have been violence in this situation[5] but there was a cop right next to us with some other drunk asshole pulled over. This set the tone for the rest of the night.
• Hit the strip club hard! They were also having a costume contest, which we were convinced we would win… Not really, especially when strippers entered. Damn. We did get on stage and saunter around though. At is at this point where we decided to use fake accents, not on the strippers, but everyone else around us. When asked about my costume, I used the line “sorry, my English, no, so good”. I had several people yelling the same thing they originally said and I did not laugh, instead I went with, “oh, kusstume? Oh da, kusstume! Me gangsta…Bang..Bang, while making a gun from my fingers. It was classic, because they bought into my bullshit.
• Rolled out of the strip club and this is where is gets a bit, um, fuzzy.

These were the shots, but I have no idea where we were...

• I think we might have stopped off for Jager shots, but I really can’t be certain it was that night. We did end up in a more upscale neighborhood and at this one bar/club where a lot of cougar hunting is done. I decided Jimbo needed to bag himself a couger. Though, every time we go there the bouncer gives us a hard time about the way we are dressed. I am all, “come on bro, tracksuits! You are required by law to let us in.” He did and he shouldn’t have. We walked in and the place was dead. Slammed a single drink and bailed. On the way out I said something to the effect of I hate you or wtf. The doorman just laughed at us. Rightfully so.
• As we are rolling down the street going to meet up with our friend, a truck in front of us was screwing around and it pissed off Chocolate Bear (CB), so he honked the horn.[6] The guy in front of us got out of the truck and so did CB. Me, J, and Jimbo were still in the back watching, as CB can handle himself…except, 3 other dudes got out and approached. So, the 3 of us in the back got out and we were confronted by an entire family reunion. Seriously, 3 cars were behind us and 2 cars in the 7-11 parking lot, equallying 30 about 30 dudes to the 4 of us. By this point I had conceded that I was going to get punched in the face.[7] It was as if the gangs of New York was remade and everyone was wearing Fubu.

Imagine this scene, only in Fubu.

• Somehow, we managed to get out unscathed. There was people yelling 5-0 and it might have helped. Regardless, it was something that I never thought would happen. I am so glad nothing went down, cause that’s the kind of shit that ends up on the news.
• We finally made it to our friend’s bar. I walked in and ordered a beer, only to be denied, because we got there right at two.
• Things went fuzzy again and food was involved at some point. It was pretty rough.
• Woke up to see a buffet from Krystals had been consumed and noticed several bottles of Jager empty along with 100’s of beer bottles. Insane.
• Watched the Florida Gators kick the shit out of Georgia!
• Started it all over again. My costume started out as the guy who was too hung over to make a costume, then I switched to being a “transformer.” I start out as a regular guy, then by the end of the night, I am a drunk asshole.

Jimbo as Ashe

Ahh, choices...To be good or to be bad.

When you try to smoke celery, you know you have had too much to drink.

Doing what he does best

And I am done...

That is the story of this last weekend. Thank you…

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[1] The issue was I was still hung over on Monday and it was vicious.

 

[2] Sorry, I really wanted to try something different, but I am too challenged today.

[3] Think Franky 4 fingers, but more Irish.

[4] Umm, cause we are awesome!

[5] All of us would have gotten out of the car and kicked his ass.

[6] Now, in most situations, the next series of events would have gone way different.

[7] I am pretty, but I can take a punch or two when needed.

The New Cool Way to Date…#fail

With my newly found sense of adventure[1], I feel it would be a good time to branch out in other aspects in my life, particularly in the dating department. Over the past year I have met and dated several amazing women, women that given the right circumstances would have worked out brilliantly. Sadly, it was just not meant to be. School, distance, religion and various other factors have left these amazing and beautiful people just out of my reach.

I could be sad, upset, disillusioned and my usual curmudgeon self about this matter, but I am not. In fact I have a completely different take on the issue. I feel that by meeting and dating these women, I have slowly learned more of what I am looking for in life. They have shown me that I am doing something right with my life and they are the kind of people I want to surround my self with. Though, this newly found enlightenment does not change one simple fact… I am single.

My current situation may be familiar to you, the reader. New phase in life and coming to terms with what is important to one’s self. With all the stresses coming on, it would be nice to have a good distraction or two. In this assessment though, I need to figure out a few things in regards to the approach. I have never tried Internet dating and my only experience in the dating “scene” has been the traditional meet and greet or the out and about pick up. Both have worked very well for me in the past; however, being in a new city with such a diverse population, I feel I should give the Internet a fair shake.

Lets examine a few key sites and my understanding of how they work:

 

OKCupid: I guess it’s a free dating site? PQ tells me, “They work on a ‘matching’ system based on the answers you give to the questions. The more question’s you answer, the more they can ‘figure out’ your matches. But just fill out your profile and go looking for matches. It’s better if you go look at matches/girls you could be interested in vs. them coming to you.”

Plenty of Fish: This is a free dating site that resembles the traditional “bar” model of dating. You have a profile and a small “about me” section. Basically, you are trolling pictures for what you think is your best suited match.

Match: This is a paid site that works similarly to Plenty of Fish. My understanding is that it is a more upscale version of the dating pool; kind of like paying to get into the VIP section of a club.

Eharmony: From what my roommate has told me[2] it is a Christian based paid dating site. They have you fill out an enormously long survey about yourself and likes/dislikes. Then, they match you based on the standard deviation in their “dating equation.” It seems that this is a very serious site for people looking to “find the one.”

Now, I guess once I select a site or several, depending on how I feel, I create a profile that would best describe me. This is where the fine line of truth and bullshit get blurry. When I talk, the subtle nuances of my nature come out; however, with my writing, some times my sarcasm comes across cynical. I will need to work on this.

Then, there is the “I found someone and need to interact” portion of this event.[3] I would then have to send the girl a message with some clever headline or something that does not scream douche bag. Then, make some one-way casual conversation with them and hope they respond. If all goes well, the lines of communication slowly elevate until the meeting point.

At the meeting point is where I am fine. In social situations I thrive and love interaction. I am just not sure how this whole “game” works. What are the rules? How do I make my profile say what I want to express, without being a total narcissistic head case that I usually am? What is the best way to start the conversation without being a complete asshat?

For these these answers, I turn to you, my readers. Please, enlighten me, as I am new to this game…

 

---

[1] See I quit my job and moving ASAP

 

[2] She’s tried it

 

[3] I think of this as a Miss America Pageant. No, Miss Venezuela, cause that’s just one of the greatest things ever. God bless Telemundo!

 

Musings of a Mad Man

Imagine if Hunter S. Thompson did win the election to be Sheriff, or Cobra Commander’s world domination plot succeeded and he overthrew G.I. Joe. What if Sleeping Beauty never got her kiss?

 

Why does the American ideal of “good” have to dominate our society so much? Why can’t Connor & Murphy McManus rid Boston of all the evil doer’s in their prescribed manner and not be shunned for their actions? Why is marijuana the scourge of American drug policy?

 

Think about it…

¡Viva la Revolucion!

It wasn’t long ago when change was everywhere. Change that required hard work and great sacrfice on all that participated. Lives were lost and ideals were either proven or rejected. Regardless of the end result, these hearty men and women stopped talking and made shit happen. These days, we as a society are too weak to truly stage a revolution of the past, but instead we have our own personal struggles and strife. It is the assault on one’s personal identity and comfort zone that is this generations claim to independence. As much as I want this post to be a valiant profession of my internal struggle, it is really just a scared guy trying to sort it all out.

On Friday, after I unloaded all the stress of my week onto print, I decided that my life needs to go in a new direction. The firm feeling that I am truly on my own, in all matters, boiled over and shook my core a bit. I have accepted that I am on my own and I will be in control of my success or failure. I had been holding off on all concrete plans about moving and starting school, all the while saying, “I am just not sure what I am doing yet.” That all changed on Friday afternoon. I rang the school that I was accepted to in the D.C. area and told them I will be attending class in January. BAM! Trigger pulled on grad school.

On Sunday, I told both roommates that I would be out of the house and back into my apt in VA the weekend of Thanksgiving. I figure that I will hang out with the extended family before I go that way we all can spend time together before I am all broke. The problem with my moving plan is that I will be doing all of this a few days from my birthday (December 2) and of course a month before Christmas. Never said my timing was perfect, just doing what I can do.Today, I have handed in my formal resignation at work. I am giving them 5 weeks notice to get someone to fill my spot. Whether they fill it or not, its their issue. I am giving them ample time to get things off the ground. So, now that I have put this plan into motion (not really a plan, more like action) I have to do this. I do not have a job lined up where I am going and have never left a job without having another one lined up. I am freaking the hell out, but it is a calm and focused sort of energy.

Here is how this will go down:

• Move the rest of my stuff to D.C. before my birthday.
• Find  a job, any job, within the first week or two.
• Start a full load (3 classes) the second week of January.

Here is what I am worried about:

• Will have a trouble finding a job and will run into financial difficulty. Nothing like a 29 y/o male with no job to really attract the ladies.
• Will be 29, broke, and really up a creek.
• Will not be able to give christmas gifts to those I love. Christmas in my family is a huge event and it looks like I will be spending it alone. I don’t mind the lonely part, its the not being able to get anyone anything that really bothers me.
• I could fail and fail hard.

Positives:

• I am finally doing what I have been talking about for over a year. Maybe not the way I wanted to, but it is on.
• I have the potential to succeed and do great.
• There are people that support this decision and really don’t think it is too crazy.
• I am advancing my education in a way I have always wanted and no one can take that from me.
• I have done crazy shit before and come out on top.

So, I am going to see how it all plays out let it ride. I just keep telling myself one man’s genious is another man’s insanity.

Slightly Annoyed

***WARNING THIS IS VERY CYNICAL***

As I was driving to work today I got an email from the company I interviewed with last week. The one where I didn’t get any sleep and they changed the interview time; basically I was set up for failure because they didn’t have their shit together. They informed me that they will be going with another candidate. Essentially, I changed my vacation plans to be jerked around and wasted money and precious time. Hey¹ thanks, I appreciate that, no really, thanks. Although, I did at least get the opportunity to go for it.

Moreover, there are other things in my life and people for that matter, that I really thought were different. I have known them for a while, yet I feel like I have been used. See being the nice guy some times² will come back and blow up in your face. People often mistake kindness for weakness and will walk all over you. My roommate often tells me, “just put yourself out there and be nice to people. Let them know the real you.” The truth is I do put myself out there and I get burned a lot, but I continue to do it because each time I learn something new. People never surprise me and I am always cautiously paranoid, but have learned to keep quit and just ride out the storm.

With everything that has recently happened I feel I need to stop having faith in others.³ Time to go back to the old ways of JP. One, where I am the only one I can rely on and have blind faith in. A JP that takes big risks, but only for himself. I am tired, beaten down, but not broken. I have a goal in sight and I refuse to let things stand in my way. If people’s feelings get hurt along the way, consider this my formal apology, as there will be none given past this point.

Lesson learned on all fronts in my life.

Father,
you know where I have been and
you know what I have done
they say that you see everything
so you know I never hurt no one
What I have stolen won’t be missed
By those who had so much, so long
We’ll soon be laughing about this
They will never notice it is gone
I could bend the universe
It I can only get there first
There are some foolish fresh laid plans
My fate is firmly in your hands⁴

1Insert company name

2I really try to deny my asshole nature and go out of my way

3And being such a trusting sucker

4Devotchka “Undone”

Sometimes the line becomes blurry between rocks and unicorns

And I am back. Wow! Just Wow. What an insane trip. I think the best way to break it down is start from the beginning…

Thursday

3:30pm- Woke up and started getting ready.

6:30pm- Picked up Justagirl and Gingermandy

7:00pm- Dinner with the girls and Chocolate bear, where we discussed and decided on going as Special Olympic Athletes for Halloween this year. Actually, it was a toss up between that and track suits. Any time I can wear a helmet and point to myself while saying “Ima numba one” while trying to order a drink, is tops in my book.

10:00pm- Hit the road for D.C. Girls and Winston slept while I cranked it up and with 2 sugar-free Red Bull and Ritalin¹

Friday

9:15am- Walked into my apt in NOVA.²

10:00am- Finally laid down to get a few hours sleep before I had to be in MD for an interview.

10:05am- Received a call stating that my interviewer was sick and I had to get there before 2pm in order to lock this down.

11:00am- Was on the Orange line headed into town.

1:00pm- Walked into the interview and was presented with a Wonderlic Test.

1:12pm- Finished the test and went cross eyed and thought I saw a Care Bear across the street dancing with a band of gypsies.

1:15pm- Interview commenced. Tried to keep my head together as the Care Bear across the street was ripping his own head off. “With insomnia, nothing’s real. Everything’s far away, everything’s a copy.”³

2:00pm- Back on the bus headed back to NOVA, all the while this thought was ever present; “I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn’t screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I’d never see. I wanted to breathe smoke. “⁴

4:00pm- Walked into the Apt and felt like killing anything that moved suddenly.

4:15pm- Finally laid down for a nap. “If you wake up at a different time in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?”⁵

4:45pm- Was back up and at it. “Self-improvement is masturbation. Now self-destruction… “⁶ Yelled at my sister to get me a beer and “get dis bitch crackin”

5:00pm- Picked up What a Grand World from the bus stop, while taking out a curb in the Lincoln. Perfection.

5:15-8pm- I am unclear as to what happen during this time frame, but I know we did something. A little fuzzy. I know wings were involved because I remember the blood bath that was Just a Girl tearing up some wings. Like Woah.

8:10pm- On the train to Recessions. Just a Girl and Gingermandy were beating each other while What a Grand World was taking really creepy pictures of us.

9:00pm- Joined everyone at Recessions and the karaoke began. I do remember N’Sync was preformed by all the girls. That or I have been having some really fucked up dreams.

11:00pm- Headed back on the train, almost had to wreck some drunk asshole. It was a mess.⁷

12:30pm- After getting lost, we finally made it home.

Saturday

10:00am- Woke up and got the party started.

10:03am- Heard Gingermandy puking in the bathroom something fierce.

10:15-1:30- rehabbed the girls with some food and coffee.

2:00pm- PQ came by with Shine and picked up the girls to go shopping and get ready.

3:00pm- Went to Dogfish Head brew pub for the Florida vs. Arkansas game. May have drank a few beers?

Somewhere around the 3^rd quarter of the game- The bartender changed the channel during a critical play. I may have⁸ politely asked the bartender to change it back⁹. At this point it was necessary for me to pay my tab and get the hell out, before I was politely asked to leave.¹⁰

7:00pm- Got ready for #pbandtuna

8:15pm- got to U street and wandered around all lost and shit. Good thing I ran into What a Grand World or I would have been screwed. There were even APB’s out on Twitter for my where abouts.

8:30pm- Finally made it to Stetson’s and rock out all night with:

12 Minds, A, Alice, anoukange, B, Cavy, Cleveland’s A Plum, Deutlich, dmb5_ libra, DMBosstone, Dysfunction Junction, f.B, flippy, Ginger Mandy, jenniferalaine, JerzeyGrrl, JP, Just A Girl, KassyK, Katertot, Katie Rose, Late- Night Drama Queen, Lemmonex, Lusty Reader, M (Only One Way Down), Malnurtured Snay, Marie, Maxie, Mr. 5280, Pithy Comments, PQ, Rachel Smiles, Restaurant Refugee, Shine Out Loud, Suburban Sweetheart, thebestmichelle, Urban Bohemian,and last but certainly not least, What A Grand World.

During this time I had a blast. Gifts were giving, booze was drank, and sombrero’s were worn. Insanely good party.

1ish am???- Made my way home.

Sunday

There really was no time line here, cause I was way too hungover to make it back to U street and join everyone for brunch. In fact we went and got a burger and a coffee. Watched movies all day and just relaxed. I was dying of death.

Monday

4:30am- Hit the road for Orlando. Bombed down a Red Bull and chased it with methylphenidate.

12:30pm- Renewed my hatred for the entire state of South Carolina.

4:30pm- Arrived by at the Honey Comb Hideout.

Tuesday

4:30am- Alarm came way too early.

5:30am- Dropped off Just a Girl at the airport.

6:00am- Went to Starbucks and found the 2 employees sitting outside with a gallon sized coffee mugs. I don’t know how they do it.

6:15am- Arrived at the office to find out I didn’t have my key to get in the building. Cursed the Baby Jesus and waited.

6:30am- Finally got in and cranked up some tunes. I am not really sure how people function this early, but I do like the freedom and personal space it allows for.

Anyways, I am totally waxed and have to recover from the helluva weekend that was done, so I leave you with this:

“Warning: If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don’t you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can’t think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you’re supposed to read? Do you think every thing you’re supposed to think? Buy what you’re told to want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you’re alive. If you don’t claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned- Tyler.”¹¹

1Having ADD does have it’s advantages.

2I am a road trip assassin

3Fight Club (1999)

4Fight Club (1999)

5Fight Club (1999)

6Fight Club (1999)

7I was a mess. Totally wiped out.

8Fuck yeah I whistled really loud and said some shit

9Before I broke a foot off in his ass.

10Seriously, you should be shot if you try to change the Florida game. Stupid ass.

11Fight Club (1999)

Its time to get down with the get down

Hello again. Sorry about getting all heavy with you last time, the struggle is still a foot, but I have a date in which I need to pull the trigger by. Hopefully that will be the catalyst to get my ass on track.

Anyways, I am here to talk about a celebration! A orgy union that will be taking place Downtown DC this Saturday… I will be there!!! Unlike last time. In fact I am rolling in Track Suit Mafia Style with our three hot pants girls. There will be pain and debauchery a plenty.

Well, let me hit rewind on this track for a hot second. The other day I suggested that Track Suits are the way to go for all occasions, yes, I was hungover when this statement was made. However, 12minds and I decided that it would be the best idea ever. Then last night, The above metioned mafia blew up my phone with their discussion about Saturday’s wardrobe. Yes, I am concerned 4 dudes were discussing “wardrobe” but hey, they are cool and I will let it slide. Here is how it started and some suggestions thrown out there were:

Francobeans: “I’m rocking a pleated cape, walking stick and Reebok pumps.”

Dmbosstone: “wait so wifebeater a no-go?”

Malnurtured Snay: “I’m going with jeans, shirt, tie, sweater vest. Oh yeah.”

12minds: “I’ve got a presentation before #pbandtuna so there’s a chance I’ll be bus-casual. Maybe pleated khakis just for @LexaLemmy?”

Francobeans: “Fellas, what if Halloween came early and we went as Color Me Badd?”

JustJpTweet: “So I just noticed that 4 guys @dmbosstone @francobeans @12minds @malnurturedsnay are discussing wardrobe for sat. WTF guys? @dmbosstone @DCPrincessQ Umm WTF? What is going on? Okay, for the record no pleats. I dig the CMB idea that was tossed out there, but still track suits and gold chains are tops in my book. Oh and sweater vests are NOT an option for Sat. Only gay football coaches wear them. I’m looking at you Jim Tressel! See what I mean: http://bit.ly/ZnCjM Trending topic #tracksuitmafia just putting that out there…”

I am rolling into my apt. Friday (god it feels good to go home finally) as I have some business to take care of Friday afternoon.  After this minorly stressful event, I will be out and about town doing it proper. If you are going to be around, you should drop in and say Hi! In fact I hear many people will be in town and I would love to catch up with everyone if I can. So, if you are in the area and want to know about Friday nights dinner plans or Saturdays adventure, shoot me an email at justjpblog [@] gmail (.) com or DM me JustJPTweet.

So hit me up and let me know what you are doing, cause when you roll with the Track Suit Mafia, you never know what may happen….

So this is JP…

As I am new to blogging and putting myself out there, I feel I must give you a proper introduction to the realm of JP. This telling of events is proper for my “virgin” experience. Yesterday started just as any other day would; woke up late, yelled at traffic, and was greeted by shrill cackling of my co-workers. Lets just say by noon I had been an unwilling participant in three meetings that that pushed me closer to the proverbial edge. I received a call from Chocolate Bear (big as a bear and he’s chocolate) needing to hijack my computer. During our conversation we came to one conclusion. Happy Hour!

The Plan was put into motion. I cancelled all of my meetings and placed a call to the roommate, who just so happens to work in the same building. Done, the wheels were greased and the troops, well the troops were more than willing to participate. Houlihans was the unsuspecting target and cheap 2-4-1 gin and tonics was the mission. Chocolate Bear (CB), the roomy, and I proceeded to rack up a $70.00 tab sans tip in the matter of about an hour. It was magical. The stresses of the day, hell, even week just melted away drink by cheap, glorious drink. But wait, I forgot to cook the ham! Oh wait, I forgot to buy the damn thing too. 

For some crazy reason I felt I should bring the only pork product to a thanksgiving pot luck featuring several Jews, Muslims, and Vegans. Yea, I’m like that. Kind of like drinking a beer in front of an alcoholic. So here we are the 3 London Crack ambassadors, lit like the 4th of July in the grocery store. I get the feeling that the guy behind the butcher counter is holding the best hams out on me, as if somehow he is the door man for the black market of pork. He came to the quick conclusion that we were hammered and proceeded to give me a 20% discount just to get rid of me. Smart man! Our next brilliant idea was to roll by mama duke’s house and swipe a “bitchin platter.” 

Back at the honey comb hideout I whipped up a concoction of 1 pound brown sugar, “splash” of mango rum, coke, cinnamon, and what ever glaze packet came with my discount ham. I put the ham in a newly acquired disposable aluminum pan (I’m lazy) and coated it generously with the concoction. In the oven it went and out came the Diplomático.  CB and I went out for a smoke and exaggerated conversation, leaving the backdoor open. CB turns to me and says, “dude that ham is smelling really good.” Then I see his attention shift to the door, “dude your kitchen is on fire.” He said it so non-chalantly that it didn’t sink in for about a second, thats when the fire alarm started going off. Smoke is billowing drifting out of the oven. I go and open the oven and sure enough, that cheap piece of shit pan had obtained a small rip during the transition from counter to rack. It looked like I was cooking caramel crude oil on the bottom of my stove. A small fire had started in the back of the oven, due to the mass amount of fuel provided. So what does a trained fire-fighter do when faced with an oven fire? Right, I stuck my head in the oven and blew it out as if it was my birthday. In one big breath, problem solved. Closed the oven and back out to finish my smoke. What could I do damage was done and the ham was unharmed. After my smoke and a few refills, I carved it like a champ. All fingers in tact. 

This morning, woke up feeling a little furry. Went through the routine of yelling in traffic and dealing with people, to show up with a beautifully carved ham laid out on a “bitchin platter!” I was an office rock star to all of the carnivores. No one knew my struggle and my status as the man went up a couple notches. Boo yea.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do living it. Cheers!

Thats a nice set of cans you have there

In all the great debates of history, I cannot think of one more compelling than Bottles vs. Cans. My sister and I have been arguing for years over this subject. I have made the appeal that cans cool quicker. More accepted at beaches and public parks. Environmentally conscious. Have you ever heard of a “Can Koozie?” Thats right, you wouldn’t be able to encapsulate your favorite brew with your favorite sports team or “where the boobs at” slogan, if it wasn’t for the can. We even have a “can in effect” rule on Saturdays when the Gators play. This is to do with a bottle that decided to go airborne and make out with a t.v. screen. My sister on the other hand didn’t see it my way until about a month ago, due to her wonderful counter argument; “but its in a can!” Yes, a brilliant defense. Strong work sis!

I was sitting in my local watering hole where you are greeted by the thick tar haze of Turkish Silvers and stale ale, not to mention some killer on tap specials. We’re talking a buck for any domestic draught! Are you serious?  Are you trying to kill me? I had like 20 bucks with me this night. Anyways, after becoming a bit lubricated, I asked Benny the bartender if he had anything new in. Sure ‘nough he did. As usual Benny comes through in a pinch, always tossing my palate in a different direction. He goes on to tell me he has a new IPA in, from New England Brewing. Here is where the fun began. Ladies and gentlemen, I appreciate canned beer. I know your first though, PBR, Natty lite, The Beast, items of this nature. Cheap beer in a low-brow wrapper. This was true for my sister as well, until the night of enlightenment; hell, even the Frankfurt School had their time and this was mine.

The spark of light was a black can with this anime looking witch on it named “Sea Hag IPA.”

Courtesy of www.brainardbrewing.com

An unassuming looking package, with an easy open top-you know for us Neanderthal types-was cracked and tipped. First drop, I was hooked like a crack head. Being an IPA fan or even border line “hop-head” I was quite impressed. To be honest I didn’t know what to expect, I mean even as a can fan, I had my doubts. Nope, no way, take a hike, get out of town, this stuff is Awesome! All doubts faded as quick as my sobriety. New England Brewery describes their beer as:

 

“A rich and full bodied Pale Ale with a complex malt character, blended with Casade and Noble hops. The end result is a beer that satisfies the “hop head” out there and won’t chase away the newcomer.”

I would go on to describe this unique package of ale as nectar. Strong and passionate, like a new lovers first embrace. The citrus aroma of the hops and the caramel full flavor backing of the malt makes it a great first tier beer. I would even go as far to say a first round draft pick kind of beer. The kind you might have to make a special side trip for. 

After trying this for the first time I had to tell everyone. But first my sister! Sure enough, hooked! Hooked on a can. Though this is not a new phenomenon among even the most sophisticated palates. People will inevitably be coy with their admission and secret love affair with the can. If this beer does not convert those in denial there may be no hope for them. However, you my friend there is hope. But lets not stop with an IPA, if you are into a lighter more south of the border fare, try Tecate dipped in lime and salt. Or, a tall boy of PBR for those worried about their image. Either direction you swing your bat you really cannot miss with the can.Currently, the only place I have located this vibrant neuroepithelium tickler for purchase is Total Wine. Hopefully the brewery will expand their distribution.  So step out of this “I’m too cool for school” mentality and get back to what made this country great. The can.

Family Fun with Turkey

Thanksgiving is always fun around my family. Though every year I try to avoid it like the plague. I leave the country or town for one of the major holidays and my friends always ask, “JP do you not like your family?” I answer, “No. I love them and this is why.” It starts off with just a few of us (about 30-35), then mix in some friends (10), and stir in a mess of Redneck. That’s right, I said it, Redneck. Now I like to think of my self as an up and coming city dweller that is culturally hip that know a thing or two about what is going on. But every year I am reminded about the cold hard truth of my existence. I am from the heart land, plain and simple, country. I cannot escape it. I tried to warn Chocolate Bear last year when he came with me, but he still wasn’t prepared.

 As I walk into my uncles house on Thanksgiving, I am greeted with the delectable smell of home cooking. Though just as that sweet smell hits my nostrils, my ears and eyes are assaulted by NASCAR on the top t.v. and football on the bottom. Yep, two t.v.’s both with the quintessential redneck programs of choice. I understand that both of these items are usually on in other peoples homes, but there is something strange about a group of grown men yelling at cars going around in a circle. I get football, there is sport and athletics; NASCAR has still not proved it is worthy of my time. Now, the football, well we in the “clan of JP” have never been shy about gambling on anything. Football is just an excuse to trash talk and take our relatives money and the same goes for NCAA basketball (GO GATORS). This years football buy in was $125 if that gives you the gravity of the situation. Every once in awhile this betting can go a bit far. Take for example a new addition to JP’s Thanksgiving, thanks to an innovative cousin: Beer Pong. Ladies and gentlemen, our family has been playing beer pong for the past 3 years and it only gets worse every meeting.

So lets re-cap before we move forward. We have about 40 people, NASCAR, Football, gambling, food, and beer pong. Hmmm, how do I explain this to those who have a traditional turkey day? You know those people that break out the good dishes and real silver-ware. Where their day is full of pomp and circumstance, where dressing up is mandatory and the turkey has little chef’s hats on the leg bones. Hell at our function if the males of the clan still have their shirts and shoes on were are doing good. Okay that is a bit dramatic, but you get the picture. Anyways, back to beer pong. It is quite interesting to see all those 18 and over break into teams and the dynamics that begin to form. It is from these teams one can see the true meaning of family. For those not playing, they are the equivalent to bookies trying to stack the odds and the money on the different teams. Another skill we JP’s are good at.

When playing beer pong the following is mandatory conversation at the table: tales of grandeur and defeat while hunting since the last meeting. How many beers you will consume and how drunk you will get. Which cousin should get married (dodged this bullet twice now). Which cousin should be “volunteered” for military service (brother was nominated this year). And last but not least, any off color joke you have been saving all year, preferably directed at you opponent. We think of this as a team building exercise and something to talk about at Christmas.

This year my Sis said something that really stuck in my head. It was random and low-key but had a profound impact on how I looked at this whole redneck coming together. Sis said, “well this may be the last year to spend Thanksgiving with our Grandmother.” These words had hit me like a ton of bricks after complaining that I had to go to another damn redneck revival. Her words are true and for the first time in my adult life, I had something to be thankful for. It is amazing that the little things in life can still have an acute impact on ones life. So, even though we may be low-class and rowdy, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I hope everyone had a safe and happy Thanksgiving. Cheers!

10 years ago today…

When I was 18, just 10 short years ago today, things were a bit different. Plagued by time, I have been feeling a bit strange. Most would say 30 is that number, but I feel 28 does it for me; so much has happened in a relatively short time. So today I am feeling a bit self reflexive, reminiscent, nay I say nostalgic. Due to this I have been reviewing my past 10 years and decided to do a little list of sorts highlighting my favorite some things from the past 10 years. 

1. Lived in Australia
2. Graduated from high school
3. Surfed everyday possible
4. Graduated from college
5. Pissed on both Mexican and Canadian soil (oh yea)
6. Traveled through the U.K.
7. Learned how to brew beer
8. Loved some great women
9. Lost some great women
10. Saved (prolonged) many lives
11. Survived many life threatening situations (really don’t know how I survived, you should see the pics)
12. Witnessed 3 sunrises in one day (that was awesome by the way)
13. Got my first tattoo at 18
14. Have 40+ hours of tattoos at 28
15. Met long lost family
16. Lost Buried many good friends
17. Met and kept great friends
18. Laughed
19. Influenced people I will never see again, for the better
20. Became a Fire Fighter
21. Molded young and impressionable minds
22. Gambled and won
23. Tried things I never would have thought about trying
24. Work to live, not live to work
25. Gambled and lost
26. Surfed in the light of a full moon
27. Have been to several tropical islands
28. Went fishing with my grandfather
29. Have enjoyed the smell of plumerias
30. Learned to cook
31. Have seen the dark recesses of man
32. Earned the respect of my peers
33. Smile every time my dog greets me at the door
34. Realize poop and fart jokes never go out of style
35. Still sexy like a fine wine 

Though this list is not extensive by any means I feel this is a nice recap of things that have influenced who I am today. So, 2 years out from 30 I wonder about many thing; Will I be married, kids, Ph.D., new language (maybe Hebrew or Arabic). Who knows what the next 10 years hold! But if these past 10 are any indictor I am in for one hell of a ride. Either way, I welcome it with open arms, a stiff drink, and a great Montecristo hanging out of my mouth laughing all the way…Cheers!

…And now you know

This epilogue was solidified after watching this clip graciously donated to my computer by Chocolate Bear.

I am pigment deficient or lets say challenged. I have done some extensive body modification. As a result I have noticed some interesting reactions from the public at large. I admit I do not, nor, cannot begin to understand the plight of the gentleman in the video. What I can attest to is the generality of ignorance and fear of the unfamiliar as exhibited in aforementioned film.

I see the way you look at me with that smug vile look of disgust; as if you once puked on tequila and someone just bought you a shot. The whispers and side glances that fill the room as I walk in. I see in my peripheral an attractive girl starring, eyes locked and filled with wonder. Is he nice, bad, does he even have a job? Where is his motorcycle? How dangerous is he? Ohh my, I want one of those.

What you may not know is that even though I look weird, strange, or even exotic, I would kick your ass on Jeopardy. Thats right, if you came into my office you would never know I spent over 40+ hours with some sadist armed with 20 or so needles and a jug of ink. Even better than that, the guy you just thanked for saving (prolonging) your loved ones life has a sleeve dedicated to Dia De Los Muertos. Ironic isn’t it? The people you fear and loathe because of addition of color to their skin, are the same very people you depend on to pull you out of the worst situations.

I don’t blame you, I have color and “some designs” on my body because I appreciate the social complexities that folk art on skin implies to the “civil population”; the contrast between acceptable appearance and the moral boundary’s of others. You are welcomed to look. You are welcome do disagree with my artistic perspective. More over, you are welcome to ask questions. However, do not lecture me on the evils of my decisions or point out where my final spiritual destination is according to your religion.

Case in point, I have an uncle who is a member of the “greatest generation” and fresh out of Arkansas. He is very southern baptist and quite generous with his assessment of others. Every time he visits I know how the conversation will go:

Uncle “Son. Do you know what you have done to yourself?

JP “No. No I don’t. But all the gay guys that were with me told me the fresh ink looks fab-u-los!”

Uncle “Son. You body is your temple and you must respect it. God gave you that body and you must return it.”

JP “Well lets just say a fresh coat of paint is not the worst thing that has occurred to this temple. If anything it has spruced things up.”

Uncle “You will end up a lost soul.”

JP “Can’t be too hard to lose with my last name shoulder to shoulder in 3 inch letters.”

I kid you not. This is the same conversation I have every time with him.

The point of this exercise in futility, is there are still intolerant individuals out there. I never understood the ism’s of the world or how one is an “ist” of sorts. Ever since I have expanded my art collection, I have been noticing more people as Chocolate Bear would say, “mean muggin fools.” Because my experience is self inflicted I have a different perspective on this concept of mean muggin. Though, it is all the same in the end. They guy in the film represents what I would like to do every time someone inappropriately stares. It is true the more you try to avoid it, the worse it is. So, BOO Bitch! Lol, Classic! Cheers.

Owners manual

Dear Re-incarnation of JP,

Dude, I am sooo sorry! Seriously, I had no idea what I was doing. I inherited this body from the last guy and he must have been a real ass. He didn’t even bother leaving me a user’s manual or even a note. What a dick! I have been paying for his mistakes for quite some time now. So, with that in mind I thought I would give you the heads up on the inner workings of your new body. It’s the least I can do.

• Brain: He is the CEO of the body and man he is a narcissistic workaholic. Extremely temperamental and has a god complex over everyone else. The funny thing is he is the most fragile and weak employee you have, like a typical boss. So you have to protect him at all costs, because if he quits, you’re screwed! I knocked him around a couple times and lets just things were fuzzy for awhile. Enjoys booze and messing with the heart. Likes nicotine, alcohol, praise, and is addicted adrenaline and dopamine. Still recovering from 9 concussions and a few “minor bumps”.
• Ears: These guys are cool. They hang around all day just listening to things. They totally get excited when you play music for them. You can even decorate them. Chewing on them causes the penis to do strange things, but he doesn’t complain. Though they really don’t like loud noises and female requests/complaints.
• Nose: This guy is primeval. Always looking out for us. Lets you know about all of the good things like flowers and the blending of pheromones. If he smells trouble you will know it. Sometimes he tells the face about impending foul smells and they try to run. Bleeds profusely if struck.
• Eyes: Pretty much the navigator of this operation. Hopefully they give you the right information. Sometimes screws with the brain for fun. You will know when this happens. This usually occurs when drinking in a low-lit bar and your friends will start to make fun of you; thus, pissing off the ears the next day. Their delightful color usually helps the penis accomplish his mission.
• Mouth: This guy never shuts up and has recently been seen dating the foot. He and the stomach are good buddies and work as a team. The brain likes it when these two get together because they bring pleasure to the entire system. Beware this guy can get you into big trouble, especially when drinking. Sometimes makes claims that the other parts cannot back up. He and the tongue get into a lot of trouble.
• Skin: Mellowest kat around. Lets you draw all over and put holes in him. No matter what he just hangs around. He doesn’t like to come into contact with fire and asphalt though and gets real pissy when this happens. Complains about it for days. Good guy to have around and keeps everyone together. Have had to sew him up 7 times.
• Heart: This guy is always arguing with the brain and penis about females. Has A.D.D. big time; damn fool can’t stop moving. Lives in a cramped apartment with 4 other people. Kind of a neat freak and doesn’t like trash coming inside his house. If he passes out he is taking everyone with him. Trash talks about being mistreated and kicked around. Has been broken a few times
• Lungs: They argue with the brain about his nicotine problem. Their sworn enemy is Turkish Silvers and pollution. Watch out if this guy picks up a bug, he will make the entire body suffer.
• Liver: This guy is always pissed. He feels he is overworked, underpaid, and treated like shit. Truth is we “may” have been working him overtime without any vacation. I’ve been trying to give him a break, but the brain and mouth just won’t let it happen.
• Stomach: Keep an eye on this guy. Total glutton! Especially when he and the mouth start to party together. Every once in a while after the mouth overloads him, usually late at night, he fights back. I recommend you avoid this confrontation at all costs! The stomach wins every time and will defeat the evil mouth. If overindulged he can create issues for the skin. This usually pisses off the skin and he whines to the brain to clean him off.
• Penis: Okay,this guy can be a total prick. One track mind and overrides the brain and makes fun of the heart constantly. He gets you into situations and places that sometimes are not the best. Be careful where you take him, he could pick up strangers (so far all clear). Make sure he always wears his coat. Sometimes, if it is really cold out make sure he wears two.
• Hands: Take care of these guys. They always come through in a pinch.
• Feet: Make sure the follow each other, one after the other. This seems to work out the best. Keep them out of the mouth!

All in all, I had a great run. A few break downs here and there, but a few pins and some surgery later, good as new. I have tried to do my best to keep the engine running smoothly. If I had known that being a good person and staying away from things like alcohol, cigarettes, and other wonderful discoveries would have helped you in the future, I would have… Well, lets be honest I wouldn’t have changed a thing and my future activities don’t look so good either. Have fun you’re Fucked.

Best of luck,

Former JP

Wow did that just happen?

Ah, Saturday! What an unassuming glorious day. I mean where do I even begin? I think I need to start at the grocery store and the clearing of the beer shelf. 5 packs of Miller High Life camouflage Fall edition tall boys. These are the cans that say,”enjoy after the adventure.” For you rednecks at home it means even though they are camo, consume after hunting so you don’t pull a Cheney. The beer was acquired and with Winston riding shot-gun we were off to Chocolate Bear’s house for the big game. 

We gathered for all important SEC championship game, in which the Florida Gators defeated Alabama 31-20 securing their position in the BCS Championship game. It is great to be a Florida Gator! Well, being a part of the Gator Nation means by inherent right, you have to know how to tail-gate and or consume mass quantity’s of beer.

Chocolate bear on the porch

The first beer was cracked at 3:45 p.m. and as you can see Chocolate Bear was “reprezentin’”

 

 

 

During the game Sis called to inform me that her crew was doing shots every time Florida scored; CB and I thought about this and voted no due to our track record of stupidity after shots. So the game goes on and 20 beers go down between CB, JP, and just a little bit for Winston. By this time we were on the express train to hammeredville riding first class.

After Game Damage

So what does any self respecting drunk person do? That’s right, pulled out the phone and started calling everyone we knew. This took place around 7:30 p.m. One taker on our offer of fun and exotic adventures was Jew Slacks. Though, we weren’t prepared for his offer.

 

Jew Slacks Rolled through and convinced Chocolate Bear that it would be a great idea to go downtown to this emo bar, which is really not my scene. I protested with vigor, giving the argument that we should just stay put because we were supposed to go golf with the Russian Mafia in the morning. My pleas fell on deaf ears. I then countered with a brisk assessment of our financial well being, reminding everyone that CB is unemployed and well lets just say I am not too far off from there as well. Then I heard something from Jew Slacks I though I would never hear, “I got you guys covered.” Wait a minute I have to be wasted, did I just hear that? My argument is now null and void, siempre loco. Though he did throw some bullshit speech about not cock-blocking him or getting us tossed out of the joint. We called shenanigans on said speech and made no such promises.

Jew Slacks was the designated driver and bank roller all wrapped up in one nice package. As I recall the can did say enjoy after the adventure, but who am I to follow that rule. We arrive downtown in time to dodge the cover charge. I hate cover charges by the way, especially at a bar. I mean come on, you mark up the drinks by 20 to 50 percent, why do you have to break my balls in the process. Anyways, we get our drunk band and immediately bounce next door to my spot. Walking up we run into an old friend working the door. Good ‘ol Jeb who bares a striking resemblance to Elvis. Imagine this scene as you walk up to the door of a bar. A large black man thumb wrestling Elvis, while a very hammered heavily tattooed was hitting on a very attractive policewoman; she was not having any of my non-sense, her loss. Yea it was like that! Hell we were even checking ID’s while we were at it. Shit, now that I think about it we were kind of official and should have charged a cover to our little show. Damn another missed opportunity.

11:30 rolled around and we caught up with Jew Slacks at the emo bar, damn there are some lame ass people there. Lame in the sense that they believe they are vampires and or a dark damned soul. LAME! Give it up people. Individuality does not mean doing what the rest of fucktards are doing. I digress. By this time I was blitzkrieg drunk at the bar and things were not making a bit of sense to me. The kind of drunk were my mouth runs as if it was Niagara Falls. I do not recall a lot of the evening who made the call to get pizza, but it was the best idea of the evening. I really don’t remember what kind of pizza it was, though this morning I burped and  think pepperoni and garlic was involved.  I do recall making fun of a cop in the pizza place and freaking out CB and Jew Slacks with my antics, but the cop was cool about it thank god. 

I don’t remember how I made it out of downtown, but I did. On the way home while Jew Slacks was navigating I got the brilliant idea to drunk dial a girl that called earlier in the evening. It didn’t go bad but I couldn’t tell ya if it went well either. Arrived home about 1:00 a.m. lit like a Christmas tree. I had left the backdoor unlocked when I left so I didn’t have to take my keys with me. I guess you can imagine my suprise when I came home to a locked door! I saw that roomy#2’s door was open and he was home, so I did what any good roommate does when hammered at 1:00 a.m., I pounded on the door relentlessly, kind of manic/psychotic. And in my infinate wisdom when he finally opened the door I said something like “why the hell would you lock the door?” A duh retard would have worked well in this situation. Came in slammed some doors…Done. Fried. 

10:30 a.m: Damage assessment. Foggy, yet light and clear. Realized I had a wild night and recovery meal for under $25.00. It is amazing what one can accomplish when the means are not there. While rummaging for food relaizing I am broke and have no food, I now see the need for a girlfriend who can cook; it is good to know that the dollar menu exists. Called up Chocolate Bear and said, “Okay that was nuts. I told you we should have stayed in.” He agreed. Next time I will not be out voted. Roomy#2 was debriefed and all is well.

By the way, the Russian Mafia was totally pissed about me missing golf on Sunday.

GO GATORS!

Courtesy of www.gatorenvy.com

Please submit your application

Roomy#1 and I were discussing the on-line dating scene the other day and I have come to this conclusion: There should be an application process. She is having issues with her results, not that they are bad, the guys are  just too nice. She is using a pay site that matches based on who you think you are. I have looked at some of these questions and realized that it tries to match you with yourself. Where is the fun in that? Chocolate Bear met his girlfriend through a non-pay site which I have used myself. This utilizes photo based comparison to meet your mate; if you find your type, you pursue. This still does not satisfy my curiosity and there needs to be a standardization of what the individual is looking for. I mean truly how can a web-site know what questions I will ask or the specifics I am looking for? Plus why would I waste money asking the person questions when I can ask them upfront? So, I have created my own application to streamline the process a bit. Because lets face it, dating me is a full time job:

           Application for position of JP’s Girlfriend

Full time position. May require travel. Pay level depends on performance.

Basic Information

Today’s date:   

Full name:

Phone Number:

Email:

City your reside in:

Country of origin:

Occupation:

Time spent in hours at said occupation:

Height:

Size: S M L XL XXL >XXL

Hair Color:

Eye Color:

Have you ever been arrested or had any trouble with the law, to include minor traffic offenses? If yes, please list all:

Please list all medications (prescription, otc, herbs, supplements) that you take:

Do you smoke:

Do you do drugs/have you done drugs:

Schools attended:

Highest level of education achieved: 

Religious affiliation and level of interest:

Political party affiliation:

Drinks consumed in a 7 day week:

Preferred amount of sex in a week:

Beverage(s) of choice:

Favorite restaurant(s): 

Multiple Choice

1) Which of the following cars would you rather drive:

a. Mercedes     b. Toyota Camry     c. Ford pick-up     d. ‘59 Cadalliac 

2) Of the following activities which would you rather participate in:

a. Bowling     b. Golf     c. Tennis     d. Biking

3) Which is your preferred type of food:

a. Italian     b. Thai     c. Pub grub     d. French

4) Which do you consider to the the bet date activity:

a. Dinner and drinks     b. Dinner and Movie     c. Go-carting     d. Long walk on the beach and some wine

5) Which choice defines your sexual inclination:

a. Missionary     b. Lights on     c. S & M     d. Kama Sutra practioner 

True False/Yes No

1) I would rather have a night out rather than a night in:

a. True     b. False

2) How much a person makes or social status is important to me:

a. True     b. False

3) Physical appearance is a large factor in my choice in mate:

a. True     b. False

4) I enjoy giving/receiving oral sex:

a. Yes     b. No

5) I have/have had a sexually transmitted disease:

a. Yes     b. No

Short Essay 

1) Please explain why your last relationship dissolved and what was learned from the experience:

2) Please narrate about your most positive characteristics:

3) Please elaborate on the negative aspects of your character:

Thank you for participating. By signing below you swear that all of the information you have provided is true to the best of your ability. If you are chosen and the relationship progresses and results in dissolution, this document can be presented as evidence in a court of law. Please send this application to justjpblog@gmail.com you will then be notified of your appointment via contact details listed above. The booty call application will be available here at a later date. Please stay tuned. 

Signature: 

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let me peek at your soul

Every once in a while you can get a glimpse of  a persons mentality or even see what kind of human they really are. Our species is self righteous and narcissistic by nature. You might be asking yourself, “JP when can I see what a person is really like, without even having to speak to them?” Well my friend, when someone is placing an order. A more poignant and highlighted example is when someone places an order  at Starbucks. 

I have always touted this theory amongst friends, swearing that I could narrow someone down in the matter of a few seconds. Matter in fact Starbucks is one of my favorite places to do a first date or what I like to call the “interview”. Not because it is just quiet, mellow, and a good cup of joe, but for the pure pleasure of hearing my date say, “I would like.” This simple phrase will surmise what the next few minutes or hours will bring–depending on if I answer my bailout call or not. You can do this as well. You just need to be armed with the proper information. So, for the purpose of enlightenment I will share the orders and the repercussions as I have seen and experienced. **This is referring to females, however the gender roles can be re-assigned with the same effects. This is assuming the date is at night. Please note this is coming from a purely male perspective and all corrections are welcome.**

1. Decaf Girl- There are a few ways to go with this one. A) Agreed to meet you, but has no further plans for the evening. B) 7th day Adventist; time to bail anyways. C) Recovering addict; just need to push her in the right direction.
2. Plain Black Coffee Girl- This is my kind of girl. Straightforward, low-stress, and to the point. Knows that the true flavor is to be savored without bastardization. May have many cups in one day. Might hear, “what is the strongest brew you have today” question come from her direction. 
3. Espresso Girl- Ah, the fun lovin’ European or wanna be culture monger. This is just a side step from the Plain Black Cup girl and may highlight that she works the night shift or heavily addicted. Uses lots of pop-culture references, especially from books. Either way, not an amateur to the game. May mainline smack in her spare time; hold her hand and check the fingers…
4. Mocha Girl-May not like coffee’s pure form, but ever since her early morning class back in college, she cannot survive without it. May have been a part of a sorority or still in one. May want to discuss her new purse or shoes. For this girl, you may want to check the ID and ask if she is a Jonas Brothers fan. Better indicator of this is to say, Thundercats-if a confused look crosses her face, eject. 
5. Chai Tea Girl- Mellow. May dislike coffee altogether and say something like, “I enjoy the smell.” Then she may launch into something like, “I always enjoyed the smell of my dads coffee.” Yea, potential for “daddy” issues here. If no such issues are detected, you may hear stories of how she does yoga in order to center her life. As if the mass amounts of ganja doesn’t do that. May not shave! Need I say more? 
6. Iced Coffee Girl- Is a blending of Mocha Girl and Plain Black Coffee Girl. Fashionable, may be high maintenance, but overall you could look past it. 
7. Half-Caf, Soy Americano, 2 Sugars, No Fat, No whip, Light Syrup, 145 degrees- Yea, there are people out there that orders this crap. I have no idea what it is and I am betting, the person on the other side of the counter making this abomination, is thinking the same thing. Shoot me! This order is a warning sign that this girl is either supreme high maintenance or psychotic. May want to discuss the newest fashion trends and is concerned with car you drive. Either way avoid at all costs. 

Joys of dentistry

Oh, joyous of joyful days how I love thee. The dark clouds are rolling in, while the wind blows branches into my newly waxed car, just as I step out the door to witness it all happen; I laugh. As I step out of the front door my head is greeted by a swiftly moving screen door courtesy of the lovely “breeze;” I say a soft swear and continue moving. Cruising down the road in my land yacht, I notice that traffic is at a complete standstill; I am unphased. Rolling into work 30 minutes late, only to be welcomed by the very boss I was hoping to dodge; I smile.

I make it to my office and have a seat. Looking around, I notice things are not as clear as they should be. Maybe, is it true? Yes! The pain medicine kicked in just in time (seriously right as I sat down). No more feeling like Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee took turns kicking me in the face. No more having to deal with the annoyingly loud girl next door. I have transcended time and space into a zen world where nothing matters. I am JP’s happy tooth.

Tomorrow ladies and gentlemen, I will not be joining in the fun. Rather, I have made an appointment with a sadist. A professional well paid sadist I might add. One that can can prescribe wonderful little white tablets of joy. O’ happy day, I cannot wait to be cut open and my tooth ripped out of my skull. I imagine it as a Frank Miller graphic novel scene turned movie. A crazed man in a white coat with a pair of pliers, and just as he yanks tooth #32 the black and white screen is strewn with blood. As if it was solid red rainbow of bodily fluids.

Okay, I admit I am being overly dramatic. But truly I have to have a wisdom tooth pulled tomorrow and it will not be fun. At least I get to spend the weekend doped out of my skull.

I need coffee

For some reason good quality REM sleep and JP have not been uniting in blissful slumber. This may be due to the tooth still lodged in my jaw bone or the many other issues I cart around on the daily basis. Mounting issues pertaining to a permanent domicile and graduate school have really been knocking me about. However, I have not lost hope and this is the season, to see it come to fruition.

Last Friday I was supposed to have the meddlesome tooth ripped out of my skull, but no such luck. I was trumped by another guy who was more apt to express his pain. It was mellow though, I had the day off and they gave me pills. Sounds like I can roll to the work Christmas party…When I called up my boss to get directions, my co-workers were genuinely concerned about my well being. I have to admit, this through me off a bit. Later that evening I rolled into the gathering to be greeted with a beer I brewed 7 months ago! This is from the same batch I sent to Sam that had been cold aging in his fridge. Glorious! So, not bad at this point and off to the next guys house. This is where it became a bit strange and hokey, yet tolerable in the sense that you will watch Ralphie in the “Christmas Story,” you know familiar but slightly annoying. We went around the room telling stories about our favorite Christmas story all of which were heart warming. Then, out of nowhere, my retired Marine Corp. fighter pilot boss, broke out in tears while telling his story. I honestly didn’t know how to feel. I wasn’t sad, nor was I happy. I actually took comfort in his passion for the story and how it made him feel.

Fast forward to Sunday. I would like to note at this point I dealt with a lot of self inflicted non-sense the night before and I was totally making the effort to be nice to people. Woke up and was introduced to Roomy#1’s new date/interest, who came with her to church. I have serious issues about a “church date,” you are supposed to worship, not fraternize with a potential suitor. The funny part was her friend from out of town crashed at our place because we were out the night before, so he joined her and her date at church. I laughed all day about this. It’s 11 and I am hungry for some shakshuka, so off to see the Hasidic’s. The date joined roomy#1 and I (I was being very nice by the way) at the Israeli Cafe and I was fairly certain he was not used to traveling with our kind; rolling fresh out of Catholic mass to an Israeli joint is common at our house.

It is at the Cafe when I began to understand that it was my mild hangover that was keeping me jovial. Ha! Not for long. I ate this magnanimous dish of eggs, tomatoes, and spicy peppers, thus snapping me out of my spell. This is the time I realized I did not like the new guy. The Cafe is Kosher and they are very strict! The new guy was trying to crack a joke at the expense of the restaurant’s  Kosher standing; I and roomy#1 were pissed. Fast forward..Ditched the douche bag and phoned a friend convincing her shopping with me would be a fun time.

The friend I convinced to come with me (there was no real struggle) is someone I highly respect and care for; probably the most positive influence in my life. After shopping for a bit, I suggested going to the bookstore and she was in agreement. While there we had a discussion about religion and faith spawning form roomy#1’s situation. Then she asked, “if you had to some up the bible in a short summary what would you say?” I responded the only way I knew, “a good read?” I had been caught and she knew it!

There is a reason I feel this person is the most positive figure in my life for one simple fact, she always amazes me with her kindness and generosity. After calling me on my bull-shit answer, we sat down in the back of the book store, bible in hand. In 20 minutes enlightened  me about the story as no one ever has. I was quite impressed, amazed, and thankful. She seriously took the time to read and point out key stories in a sequential order with explanations as I never heard or picked up on. I have to say this may have opened my eyes to something I have always neglected.

For all the non-sense, pain, and tomfoolery that occurred this weekend, I realize that there are good people out there. People the genuinely care about other for no other reason than compassion. Now, lets be honest for a moment, I am not the most outwardly compassionate or thoughtful person. Border line cynical? Maybe. The one thing I realized is that even with all the crazy thoughts running through my head, I still have an open mind. I am still able to surprise and impress myself. I will be honest, I may be warming up to this holiday season after all. But it took the kindness of special people for me to realize this. For that I am thankful.

Blissful Delusions

My insomnia has been really disruptive as of late, thus ruining countless interpersonal relationships and dialogues throughout my day. I have been a social recluse and a inanimate corpse at the office. Simply put I have been exhausted and everyone has been pissing me off. Especially, the girl in the next office that has been signing Christmas church music at such a high pitch squeal, she would make a pig fall in love and a canary explode. I used to experience this every once in a while when working the night shift, though if I did not have any patients I would crash in the supply room with my pager by my ear. Now as a day walker (have been for 2 years now) I keep having trouble with this sleep thing. But today is a new day and thanks to my special friend Nyquil I feel like a new man. So much that I had the ultimate man dream.

I am sure you are thinking, “JP, ultimate man dream? You are serious going to go there?’ Get you mind out of the gutter pervert! I am talking about the Cadillac of man dreams. The kind of dream that will only occur to men (and some select women) that eat their steak rare, drink their beer out of a can, and have no issue wearing a bath robe to go on a beer run at 7 a.m. when the corner store opens. Thats right, the football dream!

I was number 88 for the Florida Gators and will be immortalized in my own mind as scoring 3 touchdowns during the BCS Championship game. It was magnificent! The first goal was during a kick return which was fumbled and recovered by yours truly, to run it in 20 yards. As I ran in I did this really cool flip/jump into the end zone and celebrated relentlessly. I had the applause and adulation of the entire Gator Nation. It didn’t stop there, on a forth down I pulled down a deflected ball and hugged it so close I thought the ball was going to explode into my chest. I high stepped this one in for 15 yards live and direct into the end-zone. Once in the end-zone I could see my facial expression of joy and disbelief that this just occurred; when playing NCAA on X-Box the players that don’t get the ball that often pull this same face, where the eyebrows are up and the mouth pulls a cheeky grin.

Now, touchdown #3 was the highlight reel moment and occurred right before I woke up. It happened while I was on the offensive line and was a wide- out receiver (some one thought I could run?). I shifted as the count and call went down, as soon a “hike” could be heard I was off. Knowing the play call, I rounded around and watched as Tebow took off and started the lateral play action. Coming around I was blocking for everyone and watched as another player missed the pass. Luckily I was there to grab the ball, placing one hand on the turf, I made the recovery! I took off like a crack-head stealing a 40 from the 7-11 running from the gun wielding Asian owner. As I ran I heard myself yell, “block him, block him!” The slow motion replay feature kicked in at this point and I saw the stud, Tebow, make a huge block for me on the 5 yard line. As I reached the 1, I was hit! Hit hard I might add, but never the less I was in the end zone. Wow, did I ever celebrate! I totally pulled a Chad “Ocho Cinco” Johnson and picked up a pylon and putted the ball. It was amazing.

As I walked over to the sidelines Bobby Bowden was standing there and said, “Son, that was a hell of a run. Go Gators! I am going to the other bench to see what they will come up with next.” I was amazed; what was Bobby Bowden doing there? Anyways, We were way up like 48 to zero and going for the extra point. At this time I leaned over to Tebow and said, “hey screw this. Let’s go for a 2 point conversion and really stick it to them.” He agreed. Oh No! Wait! Not yet this is the best dream ever!!!

Eye’s fly open, body starts to move, my ears accosted by the sound of Detroit Highlanders bag pipes fill the room. As my feet hit the floor I begin to move in a sort of thrashing manner, kicking and knocking over everything in my path. I am still under the hazy influence of the Nyquil. The whole blissful dream was really a hallucination perpetuated by the Doxylamine succinate. Ah, the joys of over the counter sediative/tranquilizers. It’s going to be a good day.

Where do I sign?

I realize I am getting bored with my “daily routine” in that the only routine thing is work, even then it can be a bit sketchy. The travel bug has infiltrated my brain once more, as in I need to bail out for at least a solid month and just get lost in another culture for a while. This way when I return, I appreciate my lifestyle and the things I have (insert something enlightening). Lets be honest, I like to see what I don’t have so that I can aspire to do better, plus any time I can cause some non-sense on foreign soil I am down with. So here are the top 10 destinations that you would likely find JP visiting sometime soon. If you feel I have left a special place out, please chime in:

1. Cuba- Seeing how I dated most of the Cuban females in Florida, it is only right that I drift on down. Its a time capsule of 50’s revolutionary thought and lifestyle. It would give me a chance to work on my Spanish. Plus every time I go to Cayman, I fly right over the island. Each flight I say the same thing, “rum, cigars, cheap eats, and beautiful women, of course the government wants to keep that all to themselves. Bastards!”

2. Iceland-I am a huge fan of hot tubs and this country is one massive tub of hot bubbly volcanic goodness. Added bonus, ice hotels and hot women that have been trapped in doors all winter.

3. Spain- Its Spain, need I say more? Seriously.

4. Moldova- A good friend of mine is from here and his family owns a vineyard. I would like to see what a dissolved lesser known eastern block country has to offer a “gentlemen of question”. I hear the Russian mob runs this joint.

5. United Arab Emirates- What a contradiction. Islamic law and adaptation of western culture? Sure, this is the same place where the dj’s play all night until the call to prayer is heard in the morning. Man-made islands and indoor snow boarding in the desert. I might end up being here for a 6 month stint.

6.  Israel- 3 main religions dispute over this area. It has to be worth visiting. Think about it.

7. Bali and Java, Indonesia- I have wanted to surf these islands since I was 15. I have not changed my mind.

8. Germany- Chocolate Bear has family and friends there; this will prove to make a great adventure guaranteed.

9. Fiji and Samoa- I have also wanted to surf these islands and get a traditional tattoo. The kind where they use whale bone and a hammer instead of an electric gun. Kind of bad ass status comes with that kind of pain. Plus when I was in Hawaii they wouldn’t do it and called me a “howie,” thats basically Hawaiian for “cracker.”

10. Ireland- I want to do a driving tour of my ancestral home land. Take in the emerald isle on my time and really get to see the land.

Vicoden

Typically I can handle a great deal of pain, however this time I was not so strong. Next time a dentist armed with a drill and a pry bar asks, “JP would you like to be fully sedated or just Novocaine” and I respond with anything other than “here is my best vein,” shoot me and end my miserable existence. I do not deserve to carry on. As I have said before, I had a wisdom tooth removed from my jaw and I was basically incapacitated for a week clamoring to my bottle of the little white wonderful chemical helpers. So, what does JP do when he is totally wasted and have nothing to do? Thats right, cook up a big hunk of meat!

I had been tapped or volunteered to make the Christmas main dish this year, as I have been chosen in the past. This time I was blasted on Vicoden! What did I cook you may ask? I drop kicked a 10 pound pork shoulder…Boo Yea! Let me introduce you to the 3 day Florida Christmas Cookin’ JP style.

First start out with a fresh 10 lb. Boston Butt and coat with the following marinade and allow to set overnight:

Marinated Pork Shoulder

1. 20 cloves of garlic
2. 6 tablespoons nutmeg
3. 5 springs of thyme
4. 6 ounces of quality rum
5. 3 cups of brown sugar
6. Dust with sea salt and cracked pepper.

Then next day pull it out of the fridge and get the fire a blazin. At this point being on vicoden and playing with using lighter fluid and matches, may not be the best idea. Oh well. Let it burn!Then get out the trust ax and go swinging away on the closet orange tree to you. Also, add 2 oranges to the wood and squeeze the juice all over the wood. This is where it gets erotic romantic.This is the point in which you need to place the pork on the opposite side of the smoker you intend to use. I prefer to put my meat close to the stove pipe (that sounds really bad). Once you have it all set up, drop those firey coals on top of the wood and oranges.Close ‘er up and and let it go for 8 hours. Every hour or 2 check the smoke level, if it is not coming out at a decent rate, throw some more wood on the fire. It should look something like this.Once it comes off the smoker, shred the meat off the bone (sounds uncomfortable) and place in a roasting plan large enough to hold it. Cover with foil and place back in the fridge. Next day, throw it in the oven on 225 for about 2 hours and it will then be ready to go. By placing it back in the oven, it allows all the fat to break down and re-marinate-keeps everything nice and juicy.

So, unlike cooking the ham, I did not set the house on fire. Matter in fact this is the perfect way for a “stoned” individual to cook a meal. Plus, while I was lounging around I received a killer gift that I had won from a beautiful woman, Lemmonex! Though, I was concerned I may catch her wicked illness via post, kind of like anthrax, but not really…Ah, its good to be JP! Oh and this recipe feeds like 50, so feel free to scale down a bit if your party is not as grand.

As binding as a pinky swear

With the new year on the horizon, I felt the follow is important to have handy when having others join you at social events. Please note this is an adaptation of a mailer I received from the lovely folks at Camel and can be used for any social situation, not just this evening.

The undersigned agrees that any and all events related to or involving_______________ on the eve of______________ are confidential in nature and shall not to be spoken of to anyone. EVER.

And by “anyone,” I mean any person or persons Not involved, present, or even thought of during said event’s with EXPLICIT emphasis on _______________’s girlfriend/boyfriend, husband/wife OR authorities of any kind. This also implies your significant other and supersedes all spousal rights.

Acknowledgment of this agreement therefore entitles the undersigned to _____________________.

Failure to recognize this legally binding document will result in_________________seeking compensation in the form of ________________, from the undersigned individual________________.

If compensatory damages are not paid, ______________________’s services will be hired to seek out and destroy _______________’s social and political life/connections in the form of public humiliation and or flogging.

I __________________ Understand that there is no photography, video, or any other recording devices allowed to be present at anytime during the eve of______________. Also, any and all extra persons invited to said event must be agreed upon and cleared by ________________ and ________________.

Signed:________________________

Date:______________________

Witness:________________________

(For office use only)

Approved:________

Denied:_________

Any supporting documentation:____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Resolutions are for the weak

Some people are really incessant about really go out of their way to make resolutions for the new year and slowly forget somewhere in April or May, that the calendar never really changed; neither did they. I dislike resolutions, because let’s face it I like perpetual change on a large scale. I like changing jobs, scenery, and gainfully accept my role as a life long student. This year I am expecting to see a huge return on my previous 2008 investment (of which was time and energy), making the 2009’s anticipated outlook quite promising. But, I have to say I hate waiting and I have done my part to make things work. All my friends are quite encouraging that these (life) changes will be great and memorable; however, I feel my patience waining like a crack head looking for their next fix.

Even with these monumental changes (when they happen), I still enjoy the small things in my life, things that have gone unchanged for years. Like my inability to communicate before 10 am, the fact that all things are weighed on a scale of payoff vs. laziness, and my friends (who have been around for 15 plus years). I still obsess how the dishes are supposed to be loaded in the dishwasher and when I get up in the morning, my activities must follow a certain pattern (not necessarily a time table) or else the Earth WILL melt down; this I am convinced.

If I was forced did have to select a resolution I would resolve to do more things that entertain me. Like leave the country for an extended period of time and go kayaking, or try to speak Spanish after a few shots of Beam. Basically, I would resolve to be a better me more entertaining me and hope to find someone or people that will join in on my tomfoolery without bias, resistance, or condemnation. Will you join my resistance movement?

Easy there cowboy

At times, what I say and what is going on in my head are two totally things. Recently I have been tracking some of these random thoughts during a day. And, well I think you will come to any of these various conclusions: weird, neurotic, needs to wear a helmet and so on and so forth.

• When driving to work I obsess about the spacing between cars in proportion to the light timing. Yes, it does matter and you need to pull up so others and also get in the lane.
• No, I do not care you got engaged. Especially because you knew about it and the ring was sent to your house. By the way neither was I surprised, because you incesantly talk about it!
• A beer? Why stop at one?
• Those are soo fake. Great surgeon.
• An old man getting hit by a line backer in the “Hall’s” commercial is the greatest.
• I should totally grow a handle bar mustache.
• Where is my __________(Insert beer, coffee, keys)
• Tim Tebow is sexy, but not in a gay way.
• Jim Carrey did an awesome job as Andy Kaufman.
• Why does does a dog fart smell so bad.
• Did that girl really respond to I hope you have a good new year with, “real shit my friend just died in a motorcycle accident. Way to kick off the new year.” Yea, thanks. I will not be responding to this. Way to make a first impression. Good thing I don’t pay for this crap; I’d be pissed.
• I see you looking over here. Yes, I paid to have this done. Social graces are still necessary.
• I wonder how many days off work I could pull if I stab myself in the leg.
• GO GATORS!
• Why haven’t people called me.
• This post is the essence of laziness
• I  need to fix my phone.
• Where doe Emeril get his essence.
• I can’t believe you have read this far down
• You really like me, good for you. You won’t rot in hell like everyone says.

GO GATORS! Boo Yea!

This is all I have to say…

Staring down the barrel of the Colt

Saturday as I was doing the post insanity party clean-up, for Roomy #1’s cousin who went to bed at 11:00 pm mind you, I started to think of all the glorious bashes thrown in my honor. I have to say I was disappointed that this person went to bed when we were getting down, but then again I had great time and really didn’t think about it too much. The one thought that did cross my mind was a disturbing one, yet one that would hold its weight in any scholarly debate.

If I left for a while would my friends still be my friends? Or better yet, if I was in a coma and then got some kind of crazy amnesia and could not remember anyone, would I still select these individuals to be my friends? I know this is kind of heavy, but I am sure one way or another, this would or will cross ones mind at some juncture. This a new year and there are many changes afoot, therefore I indulged myself in these thoughts.

If I left for a while would my friends still be my friends? The true question is do I need to see these friends and or communicate with them on a regular basis? Would this be an item of contention with them or with me? Could I go an extended period of time without interacting with those that matter most; I think not. Not for the sake of needing to pacify them, it is a case that my friends, those that show up and entertain my craziness, withholding judgment and joining in on said chaos, are very important to me. My friends that I hang out with and cohort with on a regular basis are very honest and blunt. They too are slightly off and accept me with all of my faults. I would be nothing without them, hell I could be dead or in jail, who knows.

After this process, the next thought jumped way ahead; if I was in a coma and then got some kind of crazy amnesia and could not remember anyone, would I still select these individuals to be my friends? I have seen it all too often in my life (several years of trauma work, will really work over your mind) people get injured and forget or progress into a disease, then come out of it with a patchy memory. If this happened to me and then I had to be re-introduced to those that were closest to me now, would the same hold true after the fact? This has me re-examining why people are important to me. Please don’t misunderstand this thought process, it was a post Colt 45, 40 oz., hangover thought. But definitely has weighed on the mind since this process first entered my brain. For example, a similar thought process happens every time I see 2 individuals that I had feelings for. Every time I see either of these people, I have a different reaction; from indifference to lust, to flat out disgust or even longing. The truth is I have never felt the same since there has been a time lapse, separating us for a variety of reasons. Is it wrong to worry or have concern?

360 evolution says I should not worry all will work out. If I show up and they do as well, then all is good in the hood. Transversely, if neither party makes the effort, well c’est la vie. This is just a thought that happened when hungover first thing in the morning while pushing a mop sans breakfast. By no means am I worried about my current relationships, matter in fact I am having a brilliant year. Truth be told I have many options about my life in general. This is on the radar because of the impending transitions, and I may be scared to grow up; I am too anxious not too.

But if you were thinking wow, that had to be one hell of a shin dig, yes it was. Matter in fact 40’s and moonshine made an appearance, along with some dancing and someone getting permanently banned from the house. Yes, it was like that, thus the crazy delusional hang over that ensued, kind of like an alcohol induced postpartum insanity.

Argh, said the technology pirate!

Lately anything that is more advanced than a toaster or calculator has been failing me. But not your normal “dead device” failure, I mean the kind of failure that taunts and harasses you. My phone (crackberry) had a most unfortunate run in with water on Halloween and proceeded to have a massive stroke and completely blink out. However, like the electronic Jesus 3 days later, it came back to life. Kind of mellow and unassuming for awhile after that. Then Christmas came around and all the family and friends are in town, what happens, thats right seizure time. After a little bit of therapeutic “tweaking” it came back. Then died for good. Or so I thought.

I had become very used to the feeling that I had no phone and told people to go old school; leave a message and I will get back to you. No, I cannot text you back and if you get pissed it’s your own fault. I remember how we used to do it, before cell phones and even pagers. You either called the house, or a friend to see if the person is with them, or even swung by the house because you knew they were home. The Australians call it “calling” that means to “call someone” you go by and see them. Ringing involves a phone. But I am afraid this concept is lost on the average American, more prevalently, the crackberry user.

For the first week, yes I said week as this has been an on going affair, people were a little lets say, “pissy” about me not “getting back to them.” Well, when you just give up, others tend to follow suit. I call this the 8th step of my total slacker 12 step program, which will be discussed later this week for those with no real aspirations. A funny thing started to happen people began ringing other people and calling over to my house. Truth be told I felt like a real person, with face to face interaction and a real level of communication. And no one complained! It was glorious. I would get real emails from people (today’s version of a mailed letter) that had depth and virility. I was at peace with my loss as I gained complexity. People really had to do something to be social, like we used to do.

Then, last week all my phones were dead and my computer cord took a massive dump. Left me in the dark! This was unnerving, I am now really out of step with the world. Ahhh, peace and serenity and a calming wave of knowledge passes gently over me. As annoying as it is, to not have these items, it reinforces what I have said for years; I could totally move to a remote place, grow and hunt my own food, make my beer, and pseudo- live off the land. You know go totally back to 1980 when you had a rotary house phone and people came to socialize.

This has been both frustrating and eye opening. Yea I am kind of dead in the water, but also it’s feels more natural not to have something attached to me all the time. It has been a nice disconnect and become a libertine. So would I like to reconnect? Sure! All my numbers are still locked inside a dead phone–my mom used to write all of her numbers on the back of the kitchen calender and yes we had a calender in the house, archaic right?–Once I retrieve them I can slowly climb out of my hole. For now, I am going to stay off the grid as much as possible. Truly that myface website helps one to stay some what in touch, but really? I encourage all of you to join my unintentional protest and get back to your roots, hit up a pay phone and ring a friend, tell them you are calling over.

I am way too lazy

Okay, so this is my post for the day. I have to write a personal statement and get it in the mail today. My life depends on it. Plus, I don’t want the Guyanese Mafia to come after me about this. So have a good hump day!

12 steps to DILLIGAF

Over the Winter holiday Sis and Lizard Breath came down from D.C. to spend some quality time with their favorite brother, ME! During their visit I did not get out much due to the pain inflicted from a mild manner sadist; however, we did end up at the Ale House for some beers and conversation. We drifted into an exploration of my recent attitude change and assured them it was not the heavy amount of drugs, but an actual change in philosophy. I commented I was on the 8th step of my guide to enlightenment or DILLIGAF. Then the questions began…Being an 8th level DILLIGAF member, I differed Lizard Breath to a post in my blog (now just writing it), informing her there are many levels to over come and it is more of a sliding scale. One can achieve the 12th step and fall completely back to 1 (flexibility is key here).

Example: Sis, was complaining about Chucky, saying this person was very demanding and a complete pain in the ass. Yes, this statement is true. Every year I cook, this person complains in way or another. So, what does the 12 steps show you? Thats right, ignore them and do what ever the hell you planned on doing, because everyone else there was pleased with the dish. It seems straight forward, but getting to this stage is complex and requires one with an iron constitution, an affinity to drop the C-word without hesitation, and just a drop of decency. It is complex, but like the Dead Sea Scrolls, totally up to interpretation. So, without further delay JP’s 12 steps to DILLIGAF Enlightenment:

1. Admit that you are the only person that controls your life and actions/reactions.

2. Know that there is a higher power and it’s influence is all around. Irrespective of religious affiliation.

3. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. The only difference is your evolution of thinking.

4. Make a decision to improve your life in the smallest of ways. A small victory is still a victory!

5. When challenged, don’t back down. Then again, make sure you are not challenged.

6. There is no failure, just really bad experiments that did not produce the desired results. Remember, Thomas Edison found 2,000 ways not to make a light bulb.

7. Everyone is flawed. Knowing their flaw and extorting it when necessary, can be justifiable and defended.

8. Knowing you are right 99.7% of the time is okay. If they don’t understand, it’s not your fault for their lack of education.

9. If you ignore the problem one of two things will happen. 1) It will go away. 2) It will get exponentially worse. Only you can decide how to proceed.

10. Continue to take a personal inventory and when wrong promptly admitted it. This will keep things in perspective.

11. Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing. Know your threshold and tolerance for each.

12. Having  a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps. Being free in all the ways that others are not.

Needless to say, I still have a long way to go!

Get Excited

Next week there are some good things coming your way:

Lemmonex interviews JP

Review of Dive Bars in Orlando

Guest Post from Chocolate Bear

and we check in with Sis and Lizard Breath as they brave the 4 million people about to descend on our apartment.

So, get your brains ready for a lot of useless knowledge and mindless dribble!

Lemmonex interviews JP

My soon to be ex-wife beautiful friend Lemmonex, that helped me get this blog off the ground, interviewed me the other day. I was just excited such a girl would even talk to me! Seriously though this person is truly appreciated. So, without further ado:

Lemmonex ask’s,
1. You are a man who likes a beer….what is your favorite one?

This is a difficult call as I like all beers, except the Beast; I can’t handle that old man shit. I have to say my palate evolves with the seasons and different brewery’s have been catching my eye. Some of my top beers right now are Pale Ales and IPA’s verging on the seriously hopped Lagunitas Maximus, Magic Hat #9, and New England Brewing’s Sea Hag IPA (this comes in a can).
2. Do you regret any of your tattoos?

You have to understand that I have over 40 hours of ink and this is due in part to my neurosis. Once I have a picture, idea, or concept in my head it has to come out in ink form. Regrets, yes one. I regret the location, not necessarily the tattoo it self, as I now have to tie it into another project I am working on. I do firmly believe everyone should have at least one trashy and or questionable tattoo, just to keep it on the level. By the way I will be sitting for 4 more hours in the next few weeks.
3. Do you prefer Florida or DC? Why?

I grew up a surf bum in New Smyrna Beach and will never trade that in; however, the beach is about the only thing of value in Florida for someone like me. The people down south are of a different breed, I think it has to do with the 102 degree temperatures at 100% humidity for like 8 months. I love D.C.! I love the people, the culture, and the mass transit. Yes, I know it can be a challenging pain in the ass, but when you have to drive everywhere, mass transit is a blessing. Plus, the atmosphere is different. It’s challenging and thought provoking. When you converse with someone its not just trivial matters; politics are openly discussed, something that would never happen in Florida! Plus, I can walk to a bar in D.C., enough said.
4. I know you have been in school for a long time–think it was worth it?

Worth it, now that is an interesting question. I always thought after every accomplishment there would be a huge evolution, though this has not been the case. I remember picking up my B.A. and thinking, “wow, thats it. This is why I busted my ass? Why don’t I feel different than I did before I picked it up?” I truly think it was worth it. I like instant gratification, I mean who doesn’t right? Here is my “roll” of time/experience: Have only took a combined year off of post-secondary education since 1999. I hold A.S., A.A., B.A., and I am a certified professional fire fighter medic. Matter in fact just submitted my application to one of the “George’s” in D.C. for Ph.D. candidacy. So, I have been around the academic block and I don’t think that will change.
5. Tell me one thing I don’t know about you that you think will surprise me.

I was first runner up in a Little Mister “—-City” competition when I was 6.; same year I shattered my elbow playing superman on a swing set. I have pictures of me in my suit that had to be altered to fit my cast. I still have a wicked scar from 2 pins and 60 stitches. During the interview portion I was asked, “what is your favorite cartoon?’ I answered, “Thundercats!”

Also, I probably have a larger Reggae collection than most Jamaicans. Both new and old, cause thats how I roll.

If you’d like to play along, just follow these instructions:
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions. Be sure you link back to the original post.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Best Dive Bar Orlando: Odin’s Den

What do you get when 3 friends with a lust for beer and thirst for adventure embark on a journey? Thats right, a terror squad of drunks, dropping into in to say hello on the unsuspecting populous. JP, Jimbo, and J-Man out on a mission to conquer all that is smoky, questionable, low-brow, and all too wonderful. The kinds of places where the tall boys are cold and any take home prospect may require a 3 beer minimum and a follow up of penicillin.

This review started out as a trinity of Orlando dive bars, but I quickly realized that out of the many, only one stands out in the crowd. A place that gets my repeat business whether it may be on a Wednesday or a Weekend spot. One has to realize that there are many bars that have suffered from “yuppification” like my old stomping grounds The Copper Rocket and Bar-B-Que Bar. This has been a recent trend in the Metro Orlando area. These fine establishments need to make money to survive, I know this. However, the clientèle has drastically changed and they consider these places a “dive bar,” I see them as a nice place to take a date, go figure. The Matador is about the only downtown bar still “worthy” of my patronage; take it as you will. And yes, I have to give mention to McRaney’s and Tom and Jerry’s as they were our pre-game places and well worth checking out.Though as I thought about this review, I quickly came to the conclusion that they alone or combined, did not have all the elements that make Odin’s Den the official hang out of JP, Chocolate Bear, and crew.

You may ask, “JP what makes a good dive bar?” Simple! Good inexpensive/cheap beer, atmosphere, and of course characters. These combined elements make Odin’s Den, in my opinion, the best damn dive bar in Orlando. This is why…

The Beer List that reads like an epic novel:

On tap…

Beer is served by these lovely girls!

NEW!Lagunitas IPA
Newcastle
Spaten
Strongbow
Guiness
Blue Moon
Purple Haze
Rogue Dead Guy
Köstritzer
Lindemens Framboise
Hoegaarden
Warstiener
NEW!Left Hand MilkStout
Tennents Larger
Shipyard Prelude ale
NEW!Orlando Brewery’s Old Pelican (seasonal)
Harp
Brooklyn Larger
Bass
Lost Coast Great White
Stella Artois
Sea Dog Blueberry Ale
Orlando Brewery’s BlackWater
Yuengling
Miller Lite
Bud light
Budweiser

In bottles…

NEW! NEW!Lagunitas PILS
NEW!Hopf
Tucher
Grolsch
Smithwicks
NEW! Delirium Tremors
NEW!Belzebuth 13%
Red Stripe
Amstel lite
Orlando Brewery’s Orange Blossom Pilsner
NEW!Red Bauch
Corona
Corona Light
Sea Dog Porter
Heineken
Mickey’s Grenades
Okocim Mocne
Unibroues…
La Fin Du Monde
Don De Dieu
Trois Pistoles
Maudite
NEW!Ephemere
Domestics…
Icehouse
Budweiser
Bud Light
Coors Light
Michelob Ultra
Michelob Light
Miller Lite

In cans…

Wexford
Wittekerke
Miller Highlife
Pabst Blue Ribbon
Busch

Atmosphere wise, well this should explain it:

It's always mission accomplished when a funnel is introduced. Think of it as team work for the sober impaired.

Yes, if your drinking is slowed down by the traditional can/bottle/glass to  mouth method, a funnel is available to help speed up the process.

Arogant Bastard Ale, my kind of brew!

Yes, for all of those that questioned if there really was a beer named after me, here’s the proof…

In a fine establishment such as this, it’s always the Charators that make the place:

We tend to pick up people along the way

The Granted Ink crew is usually present. The blonde is going to fill in my arm!

You can't really tell here, but I had my drunk face on!

So, it needs to be said that we always have a good time at Odin’s. Ha! The even let me do the last call ceremony as I shotgunned a PBR. This is the spot where its warm and inviting. No one knows your name and guess what, they just don’t care either. It’s my kind of joint.

Also, a special shout out goes to Tina from the Bagel King, she totally made the morning after more bareable with her kick-ass breakfast special. Go see her!

One for the Ladies

I have been asked alot lately about my 40+ hours of ink. The main question is, how do you rack up so much time under the needle? Well, maybe a photo evolution would explain the process a bit better. Okay, due to popular demand for more tattoo pictures, today is the day JP’s (not all but a good portion) ink is exposed. Ladies, you may now swoon:

First Line Work–For those that don’t know, it can suck!

Start of my leg

The foot is a little bit uncomfortable, just a little. So are the toes now that I think about it.

Beginnig of the arm

I seriously have issues--The elbow was let's say uncomfortable

Then comes some color:

A little bit of pink goes a long way

Looks like it hurt

Acheilles tendon made me squirm a bit

My placement regret that I have to now tie in.

Now the out come:

This took a few years to complete!

Mothers day gift.

All that color was dumped in, in one sititng!

Thats right, one dose!

Look at that handsome devil!

Remember this is just a sampling of what I have, as it is hard to photograph other areas and put them on the WWW.

Spotlight on me

Today I edited the “about me” section. Feel free to check it out and let me know what you think.

Memories

Hello again. I have successfully pulled my head out of my ass (with the help of a tow truck) and returned to writing. This week has been a bit, well, trying. Even though it has been a bit trying and I have been REALLY anti-social, I did manage to have a pretty deep conversation with a life long member of the JP fan club. A person that I have both loved and hated passionately, who is still one of my closest friends. We chatted about some really deep estranged family issues that we have in common; well, we basically grew up together. This Cubanita is still one person I can speak with and know that she gets where I am coming from.

After talking with her I had a “Scrubs“  style flashback. The glorious kind that even now while I write this, I smile. I recalled sitting at  my Cuban family’s big kitchen table after a large meal, sipping cafe cubano and playing dominoes. Discussing political situations on the island with a retired Cuban police officer and a delusional union organizer. These discussions were passionate and in Spanglish. It was a concept that only today, do I begin to understand. Being 14 years old and far away from any sign of my Irish roots, I was estranged and comfortable at the same time.

Like any strong passionate culture may it be Irish, Cuban, or German, food is the central theme. In this “flashback” one of my all time favorite dishes made an appearance. A very simple working class meal, Picadillo. Loosely translated,  Cuban beef hash. And it is damn good!

I remember coming over and Abuela always asking, “did you eat? Are you hungry? I will fix you something.” This something, Picadillo con frijoles negros y maduros. I would sit and savor this dish that was hand made for me, as if I was the star of the show, king of the castle, nay, master of my domian;  Abuelo, well always saved me a seat near him, so that we could watch the miss Venezula competitions and he knew that he would get served as well. As for Abuelita, well this woman could cook. So well, that even today Picadillo prepared by anyone other than Abuelita, is an inferior product.But every once and a while I come across a place that comes close. This was the case Monday.

I was jonesin’ like a crack head on 10 spot binge and I had a coupon! Yes, I was rash and brazen to go out and buy. I committed a sin against all Cuban grandmothers everywhere; for this I apologize. While seeking forgiveness, I would like to share Abuelita’s recipe for Picadillo, so that you can build the same memories I have. Enjoy!

Umm, goodness!

Abuela’s Easy Picadillo Recipe (Feed 4 Americans OR 2 Cubans)

1 lb. ground beef (Not too lean)
2 tbsp of olive oil
2 tbsp of Garlic Powder
3/4 of a small can of tomato sauce
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped green pepper
1/4 to 1/2 cup Pimento Olives (As much or as little as you like)
SALT (to taste, remember the olives and tomato sauce are salty to watch your hand)
Raisins (this ingredient is optional, it is a family thing not everyone likes it)

Ok so take the oil and warm in a skillet. Add the beef and season with the salt and garlic powder. Raise the heat to med or med high. As you cook the beef be sure to break it up as much as you can. When the meat is 1/2 way browned add the green peppers and onions. Incorporate these ingredients. Once meat looks fully cooked add the tomato sauce, olives and raisins(if using). Lower heat to med or med low and cover. Let simmer for about 10-15 minutes or until you think the onions and peppers are nice and soft.

Serve over white rice. Indian firm/Basmati rice is the best. Most Cubans like to use Mahatma white rice. Remember to put olive oil in your rice if you want it to taste authentic.

Time to restructure

Welcome to the dismal winter state of Florida. It’s not cold, yet cool enough to be annoying. It is not torrential rain that is falling, but the kind of rain that you have to set your wipers on low, but it is still too much. So, what does JP do on these kind of days? Thats right kids roll straight into Starbucks and snatch up a brew and take 5 minutes to validate what I have always said. I took my time today rolling into work, replaying John Doe’s “the losing kind” for some odd reason. Wait, I know the reason:

It has been a rough week at work, for some reason everyone has come unhinged and as usual I just hide in my office; this has also become the safe haven for other non-sense refugees. It is here tucked away with my new obsession that I reflected on the current climate of change and thought, “why the hell can’t this office experience change?” So, I came to this conclusion: we need to vote for an office president.

I realize that there are already presidents and ceo’s and people that have official power. I get it. But, that is not the real truth. As any office dweller knows, there are people in the office that are seemly above the system in all normal conventions of the setting. They can be outspoken, mellow, or even a total pain in the ass, but if you want something done, you go to them. Personally, I am the antithesis of what constitutes a solid employee and I have alway been the one to run the black-market. I can get you anything you need, thus, people leave me alone and let me be cantankerous. Though everyone can see this system at work, we need an organized leader. I hear by propose a vote.

Each organization should vote on an underground president. Someone that will be the overall mediator for situations that require, well, that delicate touch that only those who run the underground of “office mafia” know how to pull off. Think of this person a kind of central mediator; all proposals for the “whacked” list need to go through this elected unofficial. This position has a lot of unofficial power and is dependent on the foundation that all office dwellers, need a central “underdog champion” figure. The kind of office Robin Hood.

Some other possible “positions”  may include:

Scribe- The person that keeps a running record of important company developments, such as getting screwed on health insurance, or how the new bonus structure will ACTUALLY effect your pay check. Would be in charge of emailing the underground members.

Sargent at Arms- Is responsible for membership or initiation. All potential underground members must be approved through this person. Is responsible for maintaining members status and revocation of status. Reports directly to president.

Gossip- A powerful instrument in a manner not thought of. Think of this position more as a spy. A traditional gossip causes issues, the underground gossip will report issues or “gossip type” situations directly to the underground. This person must be able to move seamlessly throughout all office “cliques.” This position requires a female with the gift of the gab.

Black Market Dealer- Is the go to person. May it be an extra packet of post-it notes that is required or a can of coffee. This person is able to by pass the “supply nazi” that every office has. Is essential in daily no non-sense smooth operation. All supplies are dealt internally and not for outside use. Though, if items are needed for outside use, a pass-phrase will be established for such requests.

Slut- Every office needs a hot and slutty personality. This helps increase gossip flow and keeps the helpless males entertained. There may be multiple openings for this position.

As you can see implementation of these positions would make things either run smoother or make things very entertaining. After witnessing a heap of office madness this week, I fell that this increase productivity and reduce the petty stress level. Hell, everyone needs a go-to person to get things done. I am throughly convinced that this cannot be done through management. So, spread the gospel and form your own underground and yes Che would be proud of you.

I know, I know

I suck and it has been ages since I posted anything. What can I say my “real” or “false” life, depending on your  view has been, well, a bit chaotic. I will be back tomorrow with new pics of an on going tattoo (3 1/2 hours of ink added) and words of wisdom.

Awwwwh, caught you looking

 

Poor bastard is going to get hit

So every once in a while Chocolate Bear and I get a little too ricockulous at times; we know this as seen in above snapshot.  We are immature, loud, and tend to play stupid games we remember from the 5th grade. Yes, 2 grown ass men acting like 5th graders, ironic I know. The incident you see above is because of a game called, “caught you looking.”

The basic premise of the game is to make a circle with your index and thumb while outstreching the rest of your fingers. Then placing said hand at either nipple (see above) or crotch level. It has to be done non-chalantly so the intended target’s “spidey senses” are not tingled. Once your hand is in proper placement, keep it there until someone looks down. If the target looks down you yell out, “Caught you looking!” Then punch them in the shoulder and call them gay.

Think of this as mild form of the “show your balls game” as highlighted in the movie Waiting. The premise is the same, but safe to play anywhere. It is key that you punch them and call them gay for looking. If they are gay, punch them and call them straight; as we do not discriminate at the Gospel of JP. This is perfect for screwing with your friend in those unsuspecting moments. In my personal observation, girls are the best players of this game. They tend to get really into it. Plus, if any girl drops her hand to her nipple or crotch, a guy is always going to look. Damn I have to tell ya, a girl with a hand to the crotch will get me every time!

(The above picture was taken and sent to a douche bag we know. He was hit hard when he looked at the photo. Justice was served.) 

 

As a side note here are the latest additions to the 50+ hour ink addiction:

 

Another one for the ladies

 

Yes, my mama is proud. Thanks for asking.

Think of it as quality control

Please feel free to provide feedback. I am always curious as to why you stopped by:

Music+hunger=Creativity

What happens when JP is left without any roommates and there is really no food in the house? Thats right, it means it is time to dust off that old record, heat up the stove, and move your dancin feet.

I have to admit that I really neglected any and all adult responsibilities this weekend, especially after hanging out with an ex-girlfriend (I am trying to make things cool for the sake of the friends). So I did not bother to go shopping or even attempt to make a list. Instead, I pulled out the cooking “man style” book (I opened the fridge) and proceeded to rock out with the music blasting. You may wonder, JP what is a man dish? Well, it is a dish that traditionally ends up in one pot and covers all major food groups at once. Here is what I found in the fridge and how it went down:

2 green peppers sliced in food processor

1 large onion sliced in food processor

10 cloves of garlic coarsely minced

5 red potatos

1 packet of fajita seasoning

1 pound of lamb

1 pack of red beans and rice

cheese (optional)

Heres how it went down:

Season the onions, peppers, and garlic with 1/2 packet of fajita seasoning in a bowl with a dash of olive oil

make them onions sweat

Do the same for the potatoes

Umm, goodness

Then get your grind on with the lamb and start the rice and beans according to the package. Once the rice and beans are going and the lamb is ground, cook it up.

Cheap and easy, kind of like me

Get'cha grind on

After cooking the meat add it to the pot. Then brown your peppers and onions while frying up the potatoes. This is where having ADD comes in handy. Once all elements are cooked add them the rice and beans pot.

By this point your house will smell really good

While simmering all elements, add 2 heaping spoon fulls of the secret ingredient.

Several million Asian's can't be wrong

After the garlic sauce let simmer for 5 minutes. Now it is ready to serve. I suggest adding a dairy product just to make sure everything is covered.

Now your man meal is complete

There you have it. A one pot man meal with scavenged scraps of food from the fridge. Remember this can be done with a wide variety of food sources, the key here is creativity.

You were a writer?

Yes, I was once an entertainment writer for a college publication. In fact, I have been published by a reputable metropolitan newspaper as well. I was am the guy that refuses to pay for any show, no matter how good it may be. I became spoiled! The backstage passes, VIP cards, and the All Access Media Pass were my credentials. All sponsored by the bands and management groups. I have interviewed and wrote about bands such as Pepper, O.A.R., Los Lobos, Everclear, Godsmack, Slightly Stupid, Drop Kick Murphy’s (twice), Flogging Molly, Reverend Horton Heat, The Slackers, Non-Point, Cafe Tacuba, Fat Boy Slim, and many others. The interesting thing is the divide between the stage and the audience. There are two dynamically separate worlds at work during a concert. Especially during a tour, much like the Warped Tour (best gig ever). There is the stage show and the paying audience.

The stage show is not the wild party everyone talks about. Matter of fact, every interview I have done involved a lot of waiting around. There is no rest for anyone. They band may roll in just hours before having to unload all of their equipment, set up, and sound check. Just to depart a few hours later for the next city. Yes, party’s are thrown and good lord baby Jesus, beers get tossed back. I have seen some crazy things back stage and the people doing said things, well, would be in big trouble if exposed. In this realm you must understand you can have anything you want that very moment, I truly mean anything. Once you cross the threshold and become a pass holder, you are the keeper of this knowledge. There is a responsibility to maintain composure and just go with the flow. If not, your pass can be pulled; I’ve seen it happen.

The audience is oblivious to the happenings back stage. I watch people devolve into drunkin’ pools of stupidity while waiting for a band to come on. I remember I had finished an interview with the Murphy’s and the first band was about to go on. We were at the House of Blues and I positioned myself between the crowd barrier and the stage to get some good photos. I heard a group of people pissing and moaning that the band was taking too long; these individuals were way too drunk. Seriously cursing the bands first born! When the band took the stage, all was forgiven. Imagine yourself having a job where your critics were that fickle. No thanks, although I hear the money is good.

So, why have I been rambling on? It all has to do with a new addiction at work. Last.FM an internet radio player that has an enormous library of musicians. I have been hearing different bands and wonderful memories have been flooding back to me. I just felt like reminiscing and reflecting. Check it out, I think you will become just as addicted as I. While you are there, check out these artists:

• Alborosie- Gritty Reggae. Haven’t heard anything like this since “Welcome to Jamrock.”
• Hilltop Hoods- White boys from Adelaide Australia. Heard them while I was down south.
• Molotov- Because rock en Espanol is awesome.
• David Allen Coe- Old country is still awesome. Plus, he cut an album with Dime Bag Darrel from Pantera.
• Firewater- Makes Devotchka look tame in their stylings.
• Devotchka- Will take you on a wonderful ride of sound.
• Sara Bareilles- Has a very sultry voice and wonderful piano.
• NOFX- Because no work day is complete until you hear “kill all the white man.”
• Necromantix- Good fast Rock-a-billy. Helps me focus.
• Haystak- Has an album called “Crackavelli,” need I say more.
• Nightmares on wax- Can veg out and roll through your day.
• The Waifs- Folk music everyone can stand.
• HorrorPops- Because tattooed Rock-a-billy chick’s are awesome.

Lets talk medicine

This seems to be a favorite topic of people that meet me and find out my old profession. No, not a hooker slut, though we will get to that. I was and still am, a medic. I worked for a very busy level 1 trauma center fixing broken people. Yes, the first face you saw was my smiling mug (depending on if you  interrupted my nap) when brought in all mangled. This is here nor there. I am continually asked, “what is the worst thing I have seen?” Well, that is very subjective because I have seen some things that would scare Elton John straight. After experiencing this for years, I figured out what  people mean is, “what is funny and won’t give me nightmares after you tell me?”  Well here a few things you may not know about people that work in the ER:

• Years of medical knowledge and an extreme grasp of pharmacology will eventually lead you to figure out what anyone has or is being treated for, rather quickly. This is useful when going back to a dates house and seeing pill bottles. These magic bottles are like a road map; know how to read them and you will stay clear of trouble.
• You start collecting x-ray’s of interesting “foreign bodies/objects” found in a human. Because your friend won’t believe you sent an 80 year old male to surgery secondary to a 9 inch (circumference) sex plug in the colon, with out x-ray proof.
• People that work in the ER like to gamble. On anything. My favorite was a 5 dollar buy in, on a fun game of “guess the blood alcohol content.” We would get everyone in on this. I especially like getting the cops that brought said drunk in, to get in on the action. My buddy Speedy Doc was really good at it, but now that I think of it, he did do his residency in Chicago and that  was an unfair advantage. Or, play guess that foreign body, where you would bet on what the mystery object in the film was. Closest won the pot.
• 85% of ER employees have some kind of vice. Booze, caffeine, or sex. 50% of that combine all 3 in one good rippin ER party.
• Any ER is an incestuously tight knit community. Everyone was sleeping with everyone. I had a slight edge being on all the code teams, cause I could roam the halls and hang out with the other departments.
• Travel nurses; like shooting fish in a barrel.
• Did I mention some of the craziest parties were thrown by nurses. I took my friend to one and warned her things might get a little crazy; she should have listened to me. She still brings up the hot tub like it was something out of an opening scene to a porno.
• You can eventually do CPR and crack really bad jokes at the same time. Matter in fact if you cannot laugh at an old corpse with huge implants, its time to find a new job.
• I once put my friend in a body bag at 3 am and called for the pick up services. When they lifted him off the table he moved his arms and legs; they dropped him on the ground and ran screaming like little girls. It was awesome! Seriously laughed my ass off for days.
• I have gone into work hung over at  7 pm.
• You at one point you may see a corpse waving at you. (All the newbies get this treatment)
• If you are hung over pop in an IV of lactated ringers (you have to do it yourself or your are considered a pussy) and hook up some O2. You will feel like a champ in 1/2 an hour.
• I know people that hooked up at work.
• You have not lived until you have gone “stretcher surfing.”
• Yes, fucking with a kid that is on acid, at 4 am, is as fun as it sounds. Even funnier, is when you hide behind a corner and jump out in front of the door, then jump back. If they scream, you calming walk in asking what the problem is, like nothing ever happened.

Last but certainly not least:

• Valtrex, no matter how much you take will not prevent you from getting a case of the nasties. I treated a lot of strippers that claimed this miracle drug failed them. Oh, and the vag seems to be a convenient storage place for money for hookers, so I hear.

Remember  Scrubs is pretty damn realistic. In fact blend Scrubs with Hopkins and you would have my old stomping grounds. ER workers really do care, but the stress will make one do very bizare things. I suggest watching Bringing out the Dead. It may explain my logic a bit better.

The 10 commandments of tattoos

As I am getting tattooed once again on Saturday, I felt compelled to share a few tips my friends in the tattoo community have given me over the years. Follow these rules and you won’t look like a total ass at the shop:

1. DO try to have some kind of idea what you’re looking for before you come to the studio- impulse buying isn’t, usually, a very good way to find a tattoo that you’ll be able to live with for the rest of your life.

2. DO tip your tattoo artist! This should be a no-brainer. Unfortunately, it’s not. If you didn’t know that tipping a tattoo artist is customary, YOU DO NOW! Tattoo artists DO NOT get paid an hourly wage- they earn a percentage of the money you pay for your tattoo and that’s it. They depend, heavily, on tips to support themselves. You wouldn’t stiff a waiter on the tip unless the service was really bad, would you? Your tattoo artist is marking you for life, something far more serious than even a fancy meal, so hasn’t he/she earned at least the recognition that a waitperson gets? If you receive exceptional service, show your appreciation by tipping. As a general rule, tipping 10% is a MINIMUM, 15-20% is normal and anything more is considered tipping heavily. If you don’t have the extra money to tip, at least explain that to your artist (they’ll understand and appreciate it)- if you can, bring them a tip the next time you have a few extra dollars. Clients who are known to tip always get a little extra ‘love’ from their artist.

3. DO NOT go into a tattoo studio if you’ve been drinking or if you’re under the influence of something. Show your tattoo artist some respect and come sober- nobody likes dealing with drunks.  If you’re wasted, you won’t make a good decision on what to get and you’ll bleed so heavily your tattoo is likely to look like it’s done in pastel colors. Plus, it hurts more. Nough’ said.

4. DO NOT try to bargain with your tattoo artist like you’re some vendor in a Indonesian night market. You wouldn’t go to the grocery store or a restaurant and try to talk a clerk or a waiter into lowering the price. The last thing you want your tattoo artist being mad at you when he starts sticking you with needles. “Good Tattoos Aren’t Cheap And Cheap Tattoos Aren’t Good.” People who “price shop” for tattoos end up with inferior tattoos- don’t let that happen to you.

5. Do you own “prep” work. It is weird having someone else shave you. Period. Unless, she is really hot and giving you a straight razor shave with a hot towel and happy ending. Just sayin.

6. DO NOT ask your artist to draw something just to see if he can. There are people who come into the studio and ask for one thing to be drawn after another without every getting anything. Don’t be that person! I prefer the power-point approach. Giving the artist an idea of what I am looking for.

7. DO pay maintain personal hygiene and physical decorum. Unfortunately, this has to be said for some people’s sake. There’s nothing more unpleasant than having to work on someone who smells.The same goes for bodily functions. If you’re having some difficulties with your stomach (i.e. gas) it might NOT be a good day to get tattooed.

8. DO NOT try to force your artist to make social conversation if they don’t seem receptive to it. Some artists like to talk and others don’t. You want the best tattoo you can get so let your artist work in the way that he/she is comfortable. Your artist will appreciate the consideration and it’ll be reflected in the work.

9. DO NOT fart while getting tattooed. It is awkward for both parties. (it is listed twice for a reason)

10. Unless it is your name, or a variation of “your name here” do not get it. Wars have been fought over romances, but ink is permnant.

Ladies lets have a chat

I admit I am not the most thoughtful or proactive thinker of the male species. Take for instance Valentines day. I had no idea that is was Saturday and only realized it about  2 days ago. I was talking with the Guyanese Mafia (GM) and this was the dialogue:

Me- Yo! What are you doing Sat? You should come out with Roomy #1 and I.

GM-  My sister and I are going to meet up with some of her friends, its the BIG V day you know.

Me: Actually, I was just informed that it is the big V-Day! I had no idea until Roomy #1 told me.

GM-  Are you living under a rock, have you not been inundated with the ubiquitous ads about ’showing her you really care–buy her diamonds’??

Me: Lol, I have DVR and I don’t listen to the radio. So, I have been oblivious to it all.

Then this morning a sign at CVS read this- Saturday is Valentines Day, are you ready?

I did start thinking about the principal of the day and figured out it is really one sided. Let’s face it, ladies you make out like a looter  during the Watt’s riot. Yea, I went there. I have been hearing a lot about what to get “Her.” Let’s flip the script for a moment and focus on the guys. You know, the powerless ones under the mighty vagina spell. Yea, those poor schmucks. The same guy that will drop a few Ben’s on dinner and chocolates and everything else that makes your ass huge; but then have to lie and say, “no hunny, really its not that big.” All the while imagining how many beers cans can be stacked on that massive trunk and wondering how far down the hall you will make before noticing. I bet 20 steps.

Anyways, like I was saying. I work with MANY crazy women that consistently complain about what their significant other got them previous V-days. Usually complaining about the last minute nature of said item. When I ask, “well what did you get him?” I am looked at as if I just jumped a fence wearing a shirt that says, the Ayatollah is my homeboy. Yea, ladies you are just as guilty of the last minute crime as us men. I am a repeat offender, but I have resources at my disposal.

If for some reason you run into a “last minute situation” meaning you are reading this and realizing, oh shit, maybe I should get “him” or  “her” (depending on how you roll) something then the following is for you.

Introducing JP’s awesome last minute “Guy Gift” idea’s:

• Gift certificate for a straight razor shave and hair cut. Kennedy’s is the place to go for the discerning gentleman in your life. Everyone should be properly groomed.
• You just cannot beat a great Glenfiddich 18 year old scotch.
• For the golfer in your life. Yes, it is a reason to get out and hang out with the guys. I recommend the Callaway I-Traxx putter.
• Is your guy a “beer guy”? Then like me, he will enjoy this sampler.
• If he is a golfer and enjoys a good scotch, get him a flask.
• If he is like me, he could use a new watch. I suggest a Breitling.

This is just a small sampling of ideas. It is now up to you, good luck!

Gentlemen, start your engines

What a weekend! I received a call from my Uncle the other day about some tickets to a NASCAR truck event Friday night. He explained that they were free (my favorite kind) and really good seats; they had a 4 day package. Not a lot of people know this, but I do not like NASCAR. For the pure and simple fact that it is just cars going in a circle and sometimes they crash. I like to watch ESPN 11pm highlight reel and see the crashes with out the non-sense. Well, I had nothing else to do and my Uncle and his friend are always able to keep me entertained.

Meet up for the races on Friday night and my Uncles friend picked us up. As, I was getting in the back seat of the truck, I watched something magical happen: 2 grown ass men well over 50, calling each other cock-suckers and punching and general tom-foolery that is reserved well, more for my age group. This assured me that no matter how old I get, when my friends and I get together for an event, we can still act like ass-holes. The ride over I couldn’t stop laughing! My Uncles friend Johnny looks and sounds like Joe Pesci with white hair. We covered everything from whose gotten married to who’s and asshole. A few references to cock-sucking and titties later, we arrived.

I was warned that our seats were way up at the very top of the track, but what they should have said to me is that I would require a Sherpa to reach my destination. I seriously knocked down 2 tall boys on my way up the stairs. Get to the our destination and low and behold, I’m sitting next to a huge dude! Seriously, he took up his chair and half of mine. I had to stand for most of the race. Pounded down a few more tall boys and everything got better. Looking around the sea of Real Tree Camouflage and high tech rednecks, I was reminded that there are still people out there that believe the south will rise again. If you have ever thought to yourself, “self, we really are not as fashion contentious as we could be,” go to a NASCAR event; you will never doubt yourself again. HA! I saw a guy with a big red number 8 tattooed on his arm, what an ass! The driver that he liked enough to get the number tattooed, now has a different number. Rolled through the rest of the night and had a great time, despite the fatty Mc Lardass taking up my chair.

Those blurs are the trucks going about 200mph

So, the big V-day rolled around and me and my hot date got a little kinky. Thats right, the little blonde tattooed hispanic girl let loose on my arm with her magic machine. Yep, her and I had a hot date to drill on my inner bicep and armpit. 3 hours of line work later and this was the present she gave me:

This did not feel very good

He is a different prospective:

a little sore still

So, to cap things off my Uncle called me on Saturday to say that when they went to the races that afternoon, he ran into that big ass dude. He said that guy was complaining that he could not see the race because I was standing damn near the whole time. What a dick, if he wasn’t such a fat ass I would have been able to sit down. Oh well, my girl has brought a smile to my face.

Junkies rush

I have come to the conclusion that I am a complete and utter junkie. Adrenaline is my drug. I recently watched a special on the brain and how epinephrine receptors work when placed in stressful situations. Norepinephrine is released into the brain when placed in a “fight or flight” situation, which gives the individual the “adrenaline rush.”  Why do I even bring this up? Because like smack (so I hear from junkies), each time you receive this rush, you need to do something more exciting and extreme to get the release.

I started thinking about this release theory while I was getting tattooed. Usually, I get really nervous and get a rush right before the needle hits the skin; the rush is good. Mild euphoria, senses heightened and time starts to slow. This time, it wasn’t as strong, even with needles going into my armpit. The special I speak about was focused on base jumping: this is where one jumps off a cliff with a parachute. Each time the person jumps, they will wait longer to pull the cord, thus increasing the release of epinephrine.

It seems I have been struggling with this “addiction” my whole life. Surfing, skating, running into burning buildings (fire fighting), racing, piercings, working trauma, each time I take an up a “hobby” it gets more extreme. It has manifested into the newest ink addiction, in which I have collected 50 + hours, but as they say, “the thrill is gone.” I can unscientifically hypothesize about his as well. Ask anyone that more than 2 tattoos and 80% of them will say, yea I would like to get more, there addictive.

This brings me to my thought while I was having many tiny  needles dragged over the very fragile epidermis of my armpit. I need a new addiction hobby. I have recently pondered the idea of sky or scuba diving. My friend that has done a majority of my artwork, is an avid skydiver and he has me convinced that I need a new rush trigger. The problem is I am not sure what will be the cessation of said impulse; that and I am really cheap. So, I think I am going to take up running.

Running is something I have always hated. Boring is how I would describe it. But, each time I would run during training or run in school for a myriad of reasons, I would get a nice rush. So, with that said I think I will try something new and break out of my rut, while pumping my body full of it’s own glorious naturally intoxicating drug; my friend adrenaline! Seriously, is it wrong to punish your body in the pursuit of pleasure?

Facebook Friends

The other day I was checking the good ol’ Facebook and noticed I had a friend request from an unlikely individual. See, the last time I saw this person I was hammered and in a more upscale gentleman’s club located just outside the hood. It seems that if you graduated from my the high school and did not go to college, your only alternative career choice was to become a stripper. Yes, I ran into a girl from high school as she was giving another dude a lap dance. And she starred at me the whole time.

So the great debate began. Do I accept a stripper request? How many stripper friends is too much? Will she ever make a comment like, “JP what up kid? Hey when you last saw me, did my ass have enough glitter on it?” Will she spill our dirty secrets or is she still bound by strip club honor? Yes, I seriously had this debate while starring at her photo asking me to be her friend. Let the record reflect I love strippers and feel that they make the world a special place. In fact I have a “support strippers” magnetic ribbon on my fridge at home and believe in it. So why the debate? Because I feel weird about paying money to see a friend get naked. Seriously, if you are my true friend, I should be seeing the goods for free! This may or may not occur sober, all depends on the kind of friendship we have set up. Secondly, I have known some strippers in my day, even dated one. When you work the night shift at a busy ER, your clients are the wasted, dying, and service industry folks. I have taken care of many club owners, bouncers, patrons, and yes those acrobatic angels of the pole. Even time I took care of one of these folks, they felt compelled to tell me about all the wild and wonderful happenings that occur in the club.

Let me paint you a bolder picture of being a health care worker and a man about town. About 7 years ago my good friend who is also an attending in the ER got married. We of course had an awesome bachelors party for him and terrorized the local nudie joints. About 2 weeks later I was working with my buddy and one of our patients that evening was a beautiful young girl that looked really familiar. That kind of familiar where you are too far away to realize who it is, but don’t want to look creepy and stare. Half hour later my buddy grab me and pulls me aside and the conversation went like this:

B- Dude remember that one really hot girl from my party, the one that you and surfer dude kept buying lap dances from?

JP- Yea. Dude, she was spectacular!

B- Yea, about that. She is here as a patient.

JP- Bullshit!

B- And I just had to do a pelvic exam on her, she thinks she got the clap.

JP- Get fucked. Seriously?

B- As a heart attack.

Surfer dude come walking by during this time.

JP- SD do you…Tells the story to SD.

SD- Ohh Shit.

JP- What?

SD- I ended up hooking up with that girl.

JP- HAHAHAHAHAHA! Nooo way.

SD- Dude, I am kind of freaked out.

JP- As you should be.

Moral of this story?

Yea, strippers are cool and I dig them. But, no matter how hot they are, you can’t be real friends with them. They will always bring their A game and you cannot compete with that. And starring at your friend shake her ass for YOUR money is strange. The bonus to this scenario is of course hot stripper friends. If you take them out to the bar, well my friend, you have brought the best currency there is; Stripper ass! And the drinks shall be just as free as the girls on 2-4-1 night.

BTW- I accepted her request, because thats how I roll!

Stay tuned for TMI Thursday tomorrow…

Oh my gawd! Seriously!

Welcome to JP’s TMI Thursday. This one is dedicated to LiLu, I promised her a good one!

 

The road trip edition: I am on the road and will comment later, enjoy the post.

 

So, about 10 years ago I was 18 and lets say a little burnt. Too much sun, surf, and ink. I met this really cute figure skater Jamie at the end of my senior year of high school. She was a freak! The kind of girl that is a shy reserved girl on your arm and make you blush in the bedroom. 

It all started on summer night after a trip to the hot tub, Jamie and I headed back to my house. I was 18, just graduated and living with my parents. We got back to my house and well did what all teens that age do; crack a beer and load the surfboards in the truck. For some reason, me shirtless with fresh ink and sweaty from the hot tub and loading equipment triggered something in this young lady, more than I can explain. She suggested we go to my room and “talk.” I can honesty say, not much talking ensued.

Jamie and I were getting quite close as young lovers do, but remember I am 18 and have more mastery over big waves then the female libido. Jamie and I were getting closer by the minute, clothes strewn about and temperature rising. In fact I recall her asking me, “how did I end up naked so fast?” Well, see, thats where things went pear shaped. See Jamie really liked me, and I liked her, but she liked it, well rough.

As things got going in the hard core porn sense, she looks up at me and with a serious face asks the following

Jamie: JP?

JP: slightly out of breath- Yes?

Jamie: Will you do me in the ass?

JP: Huh? (pulls weird face) What?

Jamie: Will you do me in the ass and pull my hair? (serious face)

JP: (remember 18 at the time) Umm, I don’t really get down like that. 

This is where it got weird:

Jamie: Well, can I do you in the ass then? (again, very serious face)

JP: (even more confused) What!

Jamie: Can I do you in the ass then?

JP: ( decides that a stupid question is in order) Lol, (awkward laugh) well, how will you do that?

Yes, I asked! I asked how this really hot figure skater would proceed to get down in brown town. Only because I could not comphrernd the question posed. This is what happened next:

Jamie: Well, I would get my strap on (as if it was readily avialable) and do you from behind.

JP: What? (thinks he is stoned and misinterperted the message) Are you serious?

Jamie: Yea, I think it would be hot. I really like it like that.

JP: Are you fucking with me? (starting to worry)

Jamie: No, seriously I want to do it.

So, as I pondered this transaction all I could think was bail. The. Fuck. Out. Now! And so I did. Yes, I bailed out like a bolt of lightening. Yes, I left a naked girl that threatened asked to do me in the ass, in my parents house. Where did I go you may ask? My buddy Dave’s house. The only guy that met her and would understand why I would be at his house telling him how I almost got violated by my girlfriend.

So, what happened to Jamie? I have no idea. I fucked off, plain and simple. I did call her later and told her I has issues. I left out the small detail of she was a crazy ass broad and I valued my ass virginity; all in all she took it quite well. She cried and told me I was the one. Naw, no issues there. Yea, I pick the winners. 

Moral of this story: I suck! Come on, aside from the threat of my ass virginity (still in tact for those viewing at home) she was an awesome girlfriend. She liked it nasty and was on the low about it. Seriously, I can’t find a girl like that these days. It is always easier to look back on things and judge the situation.

Which brings me to my next point. JP needs a date (or 2) for the bloggers crush happy hour event. I will be rolling in 6 strong and would love to have my blog crush/stalker to join me. Come on down to Marvin’s DC around 8, or join me earlier, just drop me an email. Hope to see you all soon!

My liver hurts because of you…

Friday night I pulled the trigger and cruised down to Martin to meet everyone for the blogger happy hour. Let’s just say I was very happy. As I type I am unsure how to explain the evening, further more explain how I went from zero to outright tanked in less then an hour. I was warned that these events get out of hand; boobs are shown or people end up in the bathroom doing funny things, but I truly did not believe them. Then I met the following people:

• Lemmonex- Co-organizer of the event and stunning beauty. She made sure everyone was properly introduced and had a libation in their hands. She disappeared at one point and I heard she went home due to intoxication. I hope she survived. 
• Arjewtino-The man, the myth, the legend. Co-organizer of the event and a man of style. He was on point all night and made sure everyone was properly set up. This guy was cracking me up all night and had a very profound outlook on life. 
• Jolee 724-This girl is responsible for my head ache the next day. We did ass loads (hehe) of whiskey shots and pounded countless beers. This girl looks all sweet and innocent, but she is a strong arm assassin. She was  great wing girl. Cusses like a sailor and drinks like a mick. In fact she had some friends there I was talking to earlier in the night and then ran into them on the metro home. I am not sure what I said to them, but their faces told me I was done for the night. 
• I hate so much-  This girl was awesome. Some one may or may not have a picture of me with my face buried in her chest; for warmth people it was cold as shit outside. One could say she was an instigator of shots along with Jolee 724. Definitely a hard core girl.
• Desiree- This pixie snuck up on me, pulled me aside and kind of killed my game with this one girl. Its cool though because she introduced me to her squad. Really cool group of people and had a blast hanging with them. BTW, she actually kind of saved me from the girl I was talking with, because she was really stuck up and a pain in the ass. Thanks for the save!
• Big Money Tony- Cool kat. Really mellow I didn’t get to talk with him as much, but still a good guy to know.
• Francobeans- This is one enlightened kat. He and his girl were awesome to hang with. We were going to get pancakes the next day, but well, I was way too hung over. Next time my friend, next time. 
• Deutlich- This girl was a solider! Straight up warrior. She was rockin a hot dress in like 20 degree weather. By the time I arrived, like 815 she was looking a little hammered. Well, she was really hammered! Arjewtino and I had to hold her up for a bit of the night. But, she hung in there like a champ. Strong work girl. 

I have to say I met so many cool people that night. Chocolate Bear and I were way wasted and I forgot a lot of interactions and heard shennagians may have been called once or twice. My parting story that sums up my drinking with DC Bloggers has to do with the ride home. I got on the train headed back to Vienna and saw a girl in a yellow skirt. It was like 20 degrees outside and she was wearing an outfit you would see in Orlando in the summer. I looked over at my sister and said, “damn, that girl is hot.” She promptly replied, “her face is fucked up. You can’t drink her pretty!” I said, “well I think I just did.” Yea folks I was done. 

I have to say even though I had a massive hangover I ended up at the Dogfishhead brew pub and had their hotdog and a flight of beers. This promptly put me back on the map and I partied with friends until 3 am Sunday morning. This weekend I have realized, I am going to chillax for a bit. Can’t wait until the next one!

P.S. I left a lot of cool people out of this post, because, well my memory is a bit patchy. If you ran into me drop me a line I will make sure you get the credit you deserve! Thanks!

Refreshed

There is something to be said about sleeping in until 11:45 on a Wednesday morning. This is a sign that I needed a holiday bad! What a holiday it was. If you have been following me for a bit the assumption could be made, that I had my head up my ass and was a bit of a downer. I couldn’t break out of my funk and believe you me I tried. I think the past few days helped me realize that all my hard work is about to pay off.

During my holiday I met incredible people and everyone I spoke with was very helpful in my quest. Even people that had no part of this quest were supportive and helpful. This was very refreshing to go to a new (yet familiar) place and be treated so well. Now, I can’t really reveal what I have cooking just yet. Lets just say my world is going to change; location, mentality, and hopefully pay scale. 

Now that I have returned to 70 degree weather I have been able to reflect a moment. Today I am refreshed and ready to go.So, if you met, saw, or spoke with JP in the past 7 days you had a direct part in helping get out of my funk. For that, I want to say thank you! Thank you very much, you truly helped someone who was ready to call it a day. 

 

P.S. Tomorrow is TMI Thursday and I will tell you a little story.

Oh, it’s like that

Welcome to TMI Thursdays: Today we focus on the kind of girl JP likes to date…

 

I have always said that I like my girls to be a bit off. Crazy, but not emotional. Meaning you may have to sleep with one eye open because you might get stabbed kind of girl. When I say this no one really understands what I am talking aboot (that was for our Canadian friends). So, to highlight my kind of girl I thought I would start out with a more mild story, one about a girl I met while surprisingly working in the ER. *Rachel.

I met *Rachel when she first started working in the ER a mild manner soft spoken petite brunette. To be honest I wasn’t that into her at first, but like all good players of the game, I proceeded to get her number. You know, just in case. Well, just so happened that I had moved in to a new place and needed help moving two items that were too awkward to carry by just one person. I called everyone to help me, everyone. When I got no response from the A-list I went to the B-list. Dialed *Rachel and told her my plight and asked for some assistance. She reluctantly obliged. Yet, promptly rolled over to my joint.

She helped me get the items in the house and then we of course started drinking whiskey as a reward for our hard work. This is where the fun began. The pad was a wreck and there things all over the house, yet enough space to dance to Sublime. (side note: Dancing to Sublime has worked several times. I am not sure if it is my dancing skills or the music that seduces the ladies. An experiment should be done.) While dancing I noticed that the mood shifted and she began to, well, “get her grind on.” What was I to do? I could not in good conscious let her go satisfied. We took it back to the room and this is exactly what she said, “I am a little nervous, its been a while. Put some Pantera or something like them on.”  

So, after that night she became this pseudo-one nighter that kept coming back. Would seriously call me and say, “hey baby can I come over tonight, I will bring the whiskey?”  I would of course say what the hell swing on by. Now remember she was attractive, very attractive, but i quickly found out she was a bit off. How did I find this out you may ask? Well, here is the icing on the cake:

I could do no wrong with this girl, there were no boundaries. One night my roommate and I left work around 11 (yes we all worked together) and he said lets go downtown and get a few beers. I was of course always wasted at this time game for the adventure. Long story short, he got really hammered and started a fight and I had to throw him out of the bar to prevent him from getting arrested. After I tossed him out, I went after him because he had the car keys. As I was chasing (sober) him I stepped into a pot hole and broke my ankle. A snap was heard and I hit the ground. By this time I am fuming pissed about the whole thing and now I had to go back to work, to get my ankle fixed. Guess who else was working that night? That’s right, *Rachel. Who was not that excited that I had left in the first place.

So, find out it is broken and the doc told me *Rachel would be in to set it. Thats right, for you watching at home  the only person in the joint who was splinting and casting, was the girl that I had pissed off. Not only that, but I decided in my moment of clarity, that she was not doing it right. Guys, here is a JP lesson learned. Do not piss off a girl that you are sleeping with, who is also fixing you broken ankle. Lets just say she swiftly let me know who was in charge. Finally, we are done and my ankle is back in the right place, after taking a few wrong turns I might add. We headed out to the car with the passed out roommate.

While on the way out to the car I convinced *Rachel that she should get off work early and come take care of me. I mean I was on her way home. Seriously, I thought I would never see her again, but at 5:30 in the am she came rolling through. I remember her standing in the door way and asking if I was okay, when I replied yes, she called me an asshole. Then stripped down and proceeded to take care of me. Proper. 

Ladies and gentlemen, this is a small example of why I like my girls tattooed and slightly off. They don’t judge and neither do I.

 

P.S. My ankle is still screwed up 4 years later. Ahh, the gift of lasting love.

 

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent. 

On your marks, get set, brew!

Once again it is time for the Sam Adams Longshot competition. Last year I entered in the French/Belgium ale catagory, sub-class Saison. This has been my pet project for a year now ever since I received the results from my last entry. The cool thing abut this competition is the judges are brutal and don’t let much slip by them. Let me highlight a few comments from the judges about my beer last year:

Would pay money for this beer.

Excellent job on the dry finish.

Good complexity and fermentation, just needs a bit more tart.

I scored an overall 38 out of 50 which equates to an excellent rating. 45-50 is outstanding and will put you in the winners circle. So, the big problem I have run into is the acidity or “tartness” of this style beer. While I was in DC I went to a home brew shop with a very knowledgable staff, that turned me onto an acidic-malt. Hopefully this will do the job.

Oh yea!

Right now I have 5 gallons of this awesome brew cooking away in my closet. I am excited. But, I think everyone should join in on this. I know what you are thinking, but  it is cheap and easy (like me) and above all fun. You do not have to be a bio-chemist, but an understanding of how bacteria works does help.

Cooking up something good

If you have ever thought about brewing you own beer I suggest starting off light. Go with a small kit like Mr. Beer, which is what I started with and I learned how everything works. Plus, if you screw up a batch, you are not wasting 60 bucks and 5 gals. of beer. Trust me its not fun when this happens. In fact what I like to do now is slip in a couple of home brews into a cooler at a party and see the reaction. If people like it, the recipe stays, if not well, out it goes.  I have been thinking about joining a brewing club once my roots are planted. Also, I may have to cast out an invite for a “taste testing” session for those bloggers over the age of 21. Who knows, maybe one day I will have my own brew pub! Hell, even the big guys started out small.

Helping the guys

Gentlemen, the other day I was on the phone with a (girl) friend of mine and she was complaining that her boyfriend never did anything for her. I quickly ran interference and listed a few things like diamonds, Cristal, and various vacations. Like the good the good friend I am, I told her I was done with her, hung up, and called her boyfriend. I asked him the following question, “dude, how can you put up with her?” His reply, “Bro, she’s hot and I get laid WHENEVER I want it.” I found no flaws in his logic. He proceeded to tell me about the situation at hand, saying that she wants him to be more giving in the sense of cleaning the house and cooking. I promptly stopped him there.

The girl we are speaking about is a vegetarian and by proxy so is he. So, my advice to grill up a steak was shot down quicker than Harry Whittington. Being the good guy I am, I suggested a nice soup since there is an Arctic blast rolling through where they live. I proceeded to tell him about a broccoli soup recipe that would kick her right in the baby maker and elevate him to domestic rock star status. He followed the following instructions and his status was swiftly “elevated” if you know what I mean. So, gentlemen, follow this recipe and you too can hang out with your wang out:

You will need

3 crowns of broccoli

1 pint of heavy whipping cream

1 wedge of sheep/goats milk cheese ( I used black sheep truffle cheese-good earthy balance)

Good cheese

salt and pepper for taste

Start by cutting up 2 crowns of the broccoli. Combine the cream and cheese in a bowl to have it ready.

Get your items ready

Then steam 2 of the 3 crowns of broccoli in 2 cups of water. Use a steamer basket if you have one. If not boil the water then add the broccoli, cook until soft.

Steam is good!

Once properly steamed, chop up the cooked broccoli in a food processor, blender, magic bullet or what ever. Keep the water in the pot (it will be green). If you do not have a way to chop it up, just dump it in the water and mash it up with a plastic spoon. Then, once properly chopped or mashed, add the cream/cheese mixture to the water and broccoli pot. Then season with salt and pepper to taste.

Umm, all done.

Let this simmer on low for about an hour stirring every 15 minutes. It will be rich and creamy and ready to kick your girl right in the ovary’s! Then, deploy the adult beverages and enjoy the fruits of your labor. I promise this will be a home run and she will leave you alone next time PTI comes on.

Enjoy!

Short and sweet!

5 things your probably didn’t know about JP:

1. Though I am a Democrat, I have the soul of a fiscal Republican. That or I am a really cheap liberal.
2. Despite my professed love for women with tattoos and angels with dirty wings, what really gets me is the brunettes. Preferably Latina, Middle Eastern, or Persian. If they have a full sleeve, call me done.
3. I baby talk my 98 lb. English Bulldog/German Sheppard Mix puppy. He is 4, but still reference him as my little baby boy. Yes ladies, he is a snuggler like his dad.
   

   My baby boy Winston.

4. I throughly enjoy gardening. In fact if I could live off the land growing, hunting, and fishing for my own food, I would be perfectly content with my life. I come from a long line of farmers.
5. Speaking of linage, I am a descendant of King Charlemagne.

Treasures of the Deep

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

This week’s edition is Treasures of the Deep… Time to go fishing:

Let me paint the scene. It was a Sunday night and I was working in the ER as I did every weekend; working 3 days and getting paid for 5 is awesome! It was slow, I mean really slow. I think I had all of 7 patients from 7-2. Dead! My friend and I ended up playing chest tube baseball for a while (Chest tube and tape ball. Think stick ball) and chilled out for a bit. Then I get a call from triage and it went something like this, “JP, I have a patient for you. I don’t trust him and think he is lying. He will be low maintainence but I think you guys will have fun figuring him out.”

Now, when you get a call from triage it means one of two things. Something bad is going to happen or someone is bored and is fucking with you. This story is about the latter. I get a male 4oish, complaining about stomach pain secondary to vigorous activity. Seriously, the chart said vigorous. The activity was sex with his girlfriend. Oh, and he did not want us to contact his wife, who was listed as his emergency contact. After about 5 minutes of talking with the guy, I figured out something was missing in his story. His complaint did not match his physical symptoms. So, being the bored as hell proactive employee that I was, I sent him for a x-ray of his abdomen.

I moved from the slums of downtown to a smaller community hospital that had just upgraded to instant return films, meaning everything was done via intranet. So, a girl I was hooking up with the radiologist tech called me laughing and said, “dude, pull up your patient on the computer. It’s that good!” There it was in all of its glory, a 13 inch dildo with a monster vibrator motor! The power of on-line x-ray’s allows you to see all the working components and measure the object, all with one click of the mouse. She brings my patient back to the room and I go in and ask with a straight face, “I saw your film and everything looks fine. However, there was one thing. Either you have the worst case of cancer I have ever seen, or you have a 13 inch dildo in your ass. Is there something you should tell me before I call the surgeon?” They guy replies, “yea, don’t call my wife.”

Off to call the Surgeon! Man did he think it was funny to be woken up at 3:30 am to come remove the dildo out of some guy’s ass. Might I add, the Surgeon on call was like a 70 year old Marine, been in every war since Korea, kind of Surgeon. He was not pleased (we played the count how many times he said fuck on the phone game). He instructed us to give pain meds and prep for Surgery, in case needed. Side note: If you give pain meds, the patient cannot sign the release form, only the valid spouse or significant other can. This really pissed off the girl friend at the bed side, cause we kind of called the wife to sign the forms. I didn’t the really bored nurses did.

So, there we were, wife patient, girlfriend, and one pissed off Surgeon. The girls were asked to leave so we could “discuss” the procedure. This is how the discussion went:

Surgeon, “You know today is Sunday. Not only is it Sunday, but it is 4 am Sunday morning. Did you know it’s the Lord’s day?”

Patient, “whaa?”

Surgeon, “JP, he doesn’t need surgery, but we need to extract this damn thing. Only homo’s shove things up their ass, are you a homo boy?”

Patient, “No sir, my girl…”

Surgeon, “I don’t care!” To JP, “get me my gloves and KY.” To Patient, “Turn over and get on your knee’s”

Kids, I shit you not this is what happened next…

I gave the Surgeon all of the requested materials and while he was putting on his gloves the patient turned over and stuck his ass in the air. Just as the full moon shined, Dr. Demento went to work. Out of no where, the doc shoved, yes I said shoved, his entire hand and entire forearm up this dudes ass, as if he was trying to molest a muppet. Imagine a 70 year old man with a hand so far up a dudes ass, that as the guy was screaming it looked like he was making the guy talk.

So, you would think the story ends here…Nope! What happened next still bugs me to this day. The Surgeon was done rummaging around rectum land, and kicks open the trash can. Rips his arm out of the dude’s ass and throws the 13 inch dildo in the trash. As it hits the bottom of the can, the entire can starts to shake. No shit, the dildo was still on with what had to be fresh batteries in it, because the can was shaking. Yes, folks, my patient had an active dildo vibrating in his ass for hours! And what does any self respecting person do in a case like this? You guessed it,  send picture of a 13 inch Black dildo to everyone and their mama’s cell phone.

Lesson here kiddies… When cheating on your significant other, do not shove a 13 inch dildo up your ass and go to the ER. They say always wear clean underwear cause you never know where you might end up. I say, keep your colon clean because you never know who might end up looking, in your end.

Today it’s accpetable to hate me.

Woke up right about noon, just knew I had to be in Compton soon…Wait wrong post. However, my drive into work was reminiscent of a good juke box in a strange and seedy, yet classy bar. My I-Pod did me a solid rolling into work, by jamming out Portishead, Rancid, 311, Ludacris, Passafire, Hank Williams III, and Hepcat just to highlight a few. But that is still not what this post is about.

Was it the weather? Rolling strong in the Lincoln, windows down, with a cool temp of 60 degrees? Nope but we are getting close. Could it have been that I was on time for work for the first time in 3 weeks? Maybe. It has to be my dashing good looks and sex appeal! Nope. Wrong. The real reason to hate on JP today, is I have to go away next week on business and today I cannot maintain my site, due to the large volume of prep work.

Where on Earth is JP going you ask? South, way South. As in south of Cuba but north (I had to type north like 6 times, I am still challenged) of Columbia. Yes my friends I have to venture south with temps this morning of 75 at 74% humidity. At this point if I was anywhere that just had snow, I would be hating on me  as well. But friends, I do not tell you this to estrange you, I tell you in order to get excited!

Coming next week:

I review Cuban embargo products that you can’t get in the states.

Examine Island culture and peoples attitudes.

Highlight why a honkey loves the Reggae Riddim’.

And of course the ever so popular TMI Thursdays!

Stay warm and full of booze peeps!

Mucho Gusto Bucanero!

One of my favorite things about leaving the states, is I get to leave behind all the non-sense. What I should say is the non-focused bull shit that is American/Cuban relations, usually involving us taking a stand against a theory (communism) that really just doesn’t work. More poignantly, a whole failed campaign. WOW! I just alienated so many of my readers that are anti-Cuba or anti-Castro, well that just happened. This is why:

Without launching into a serious discussion, because we don’t like serious here, lets discuss beer. Yes, politics and beer, two subjects I am fairly *coughs* familiar with. What better subject to discuss while drinking your subject matter. I am talking about Bucanero cerveza, beer, bierre. From Cuba! Yes, I (may have) indulged in some fine illicit products from the some what misunderstood Cuban government. Ahhh, its good to be on a non-extradition island! 

 

Notice the cool hat!

This is not the best beer on the planet, but it has a few things going for it. 1) I have to go out of the states to get it, making me want it more. 2) A.B.V. (Alcohol by volume) is 5.4% not a bad shake. 3) The US government won’t let you have it, meaning, I have it and you don’t. Such a 5th grade moment. 4) The girl that sold me this brew is from Cuba, gorgious, and digs my tattoo’s (wish me luck)! 

But seriously this is one step above Bud, only because they use cane sugar to develop the alcohol content. While I usually applaud the increase in alcohol, sugar is not the best way to go. However, Cuban sugar has been a staple of their economy and the rum trade for well ever. So, one cannot fault them entirely. Okay, beer #5. But what truly gets me is the stamp. Its knowing I cannot have this anywhere else, because I am not in congress yet (a story for another day). I mean all that is in this is water, barley, sugar, hops. Not that impressive on its own, but combine it with years of ostrization, and we have a JP favorite.

 

Look at the last few words...Producto De Cuba.

But really why I like it, is because its cheap! Lol, so I am going to have a few more before I have to be responsible. Enjoy the thought of imbibing in something your government says you cannot have, I know I will.

The Phantom Menace!

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

 

 

So, several years ago my Sis had a bar-b-que and invited her really hot stripper girlfriend. Yea it runs in the family. Well, my Sis was like, yo,why don’t you and your girlfriend come over for some eats? I of course replied, hell ya! Well little did I know how hot this striper was. Lets just say perma-hard. 

At this time I didn’t have a car, because my car exploded or something stupid like that, so I borrowed my Sis’s truck to pick up my girlfriend. Roll to the party and the stupidity ensues. So, come to find out this stripper is quite flirty, with everyone. Well, it seems I was not the only one turned on by this vixen.

Good times go by, but I had to get my girlfriend back to her place before her curfew. Riding home in my Sis’s truck, my girlfriend tells me how turned on she was by the stripper my Sis was dating. I was promptly told to pull over at a park before her house. Now, we are in an Isuzu Pup. Single cab truck. Tiny! Well, things get going and a little of this and a little of that happens. Next thing I know a full on hand job has struck a tune.

This is where it gets a bit “iffy.” She is way into it and needless to say, so am I. Next thing I know, things are full on. I mean that full on like in a porno scene. Then, I erupted like Pompeii! Full on porno load; it had been a few days, I mean what do you expect? Well, as things are coming to a close, she asks, “well, did you?” I respond, “oh hell yea!” “Well, where did it go?” Me, “whaa?” Yes, I blew a porno size load in all of 5 square feet and could not locate said, load. It was no where to be found. It was the Phantom Menace!

Drop off the girlfriend, and start rolling back to the party. However, before I rolled back I looked high and low for any sign of the load; no dice. Ended up back at the party and just kind of laughed when asked, “you okay?” I didn’t have the heart to tell my Sis that I “baptized” her truck. Well, until the next day while laughing my ass off and trying to keep it together long enough to tell the story. Still to this day the where abouts of that load are still classified as unknown.

Everyone is not Irish…Lá Fhéile Pádraig

**I have made sure all youtube posts are okay for work**

Yes, I am about to hate on St. Patrick’s Day! Not really, just the douche bag participants. One of my most coveted days. The day of the Irish feast so powerful that if it fell on Lent, the restrictions could be lifted by the local Bishop and thou could eat meat. A glorious day of days that we reflect on the patron saints of Ireland; even Jesus gets a little jealous about this celebration. But, this year I have a few things to address, nay, thrust upon my public, before I roll out this evening for my cabbage and bacon stew.

If you observe observe other religious celebrations that are not within the realm of the Protestant or Catholic grips, chances are you are not Irish. This is okay, I am only about 75% myself. I enjoy hanging out with diverse crowds and having them be interested in my celebration.* Though I die a bit inside when I see a South Asian or even a French man wearing one of those gay green and black Guinness hats, wearing a button that says “kiss me I’m Irish.” NO. YOU. ARE. NOT! You are the douche bag that spilled beer on me last year and almost got me arrested, because I “may” have not “reacted” in the best manner possible.**

Well, heres the deal. I like to enjoy my cultural heritage with gusto; nay, fervor! I am not saying the non-Irish can’t join in, all I am saying is remember that its a Gaelic tradition to get hammered and fight. A few broken bottles, chairs, or girlfriends… It could all happen to you, if you do not observe a few cultural things.

Do not discuss the religious divide. You think the Sunni’s and Shiite’s have gone at it, well just turn on the news in Dublin.

1. Do not discuss the religious divide. You think the Sunni’s and Shiite’s have gone at it, well just turn on the news in Dublin.
2. Do not claim to be in the IRA. You never know where those guys are at.
3. If you hear Sláinte (Slawn-Cha) toast back accordingly. Salud, Cheers, Prost, Ba’sal’a'ma’ti, L’chaim, Kampai, or Na zdorovje just does not work.
4. Dressing like an asshole, still makes you an asshole; No matter how much green you wear. Especially when green is the representation of the island, not the Patron Saint, thats the color blue.
5. If you get drunk thats cool. If you get drunk and cannot handle your booze, don’t drink. Just because we are celebrating doesn’t mean you can act like a douche bag. Remember it is still a religious observance.

Okay, I have said my piece. Now, for my friends that are not Irish, its cool I still like ya. In fact I hope to see you out tonight. I will be in my usual dive that is serving cheap beer and good Irish fare. For those looking to have a good night, may I suggest taking a few pointers from the following commerical from my friends at Guinness:

Oh yea, the Jewish girl at work just came over and said,”I have my green on, where’s yours?” Well, the last I checked I do not own a “green” work shirt. That went out of style in the 70’s beeotch. Prime example of the douchebaggery I am trying to avoid today.  I may be feeling a little stabby.

*At this point please keep in mind I am hating on it.

**You throw one bottle at a guy and cops get upset.

Incoming!

Ladies and gentlemen, last night I was that guy. The loud crazy friend bought the beers and made you drink them; made the bar tender funnel a beer. Strong work Benny! But more so, I was a gigantic cock-block game killer to my buddy J-Man. Let me sprinkle some seasoning:

Al, JP, J-Man, and Chocolate Bear were sitting at the bar in the very packed living room. CB and I were pretending we were fighter pilots and making a squelch noise before we spoke. I know, but it was fun. Then out of the corner of my eye I see this decent, but not my speed, blonde come up and talk with J-Man. Things were going well and tracks were laid. The night pushes on and beers were put down. Then I decide I am a B-52 bomber and need to drop atomic bombs all over J-Man’s game. This is what happened.

J-Man was talking to blondie and I come strolling up. I think I whispered to J-Man the following, “Dude, she is totally digging on you bro. Go in for the kill and get the number.” Then it happened. Blondie turns around and say’s, “I’m not deaf you know!” Yea go me. My recovery was something like ah f— it! J-Man was D.O.A after my little “intervention”.

I said my 1,000 apologies to J-Man and the rest of the group, as I broke man law and they needed to know. Hey I’m not perfect (just  damn near close) and I admit my wrong doing. But then what do I see? J-Man gets up dusts himself off, writes down the tag number to the bus I just threw him under and walks it off like a champ. He goes right up the blondie and lays down the following agreeable observations. “Hey my friend can be a real asshole, but means nothing by it. In fact he is an idiot. Don’t mind him, he doesn’t know any better.” True champ reversed the bus and chucked me right under. Rightfully so.

Then, it went down. Digits were exchanged and words were spoken. Done Son! My boy made a full recovery. I promised I would make a public apology today for my actions last night. So, here goes:

J-Man, my bad bro. I doubted your skills and prematurely intervened in matters that needed no intervention. I chucked you into on coming traffic and left you for dead. I am sorry. However, I am totally proud that you pulled up proper and did not let that get in you way of the target. You were locked and loaded and truly an all star of the night. I am proud to call you friend. Strong Work Bro, strong work!

Ring Toss

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Another ER edition of TMI Thursday…

I had a crazy busy shift on a Friday night one summer. I had a guy walk in with an Ice Pick (in Florida) sticking out of his gut. Telling me he fell on while working on his truck. Yea, it was like that. He was my first patient and kind of set the tone for the rest of the night. Luckily one of my good friends Dr. M was working and was always up for a good joke.

Couple of trauma patients and a few I have a boo boo people and of some drug seekers, well we were do for a good laugh. Then around 11pm the ER gods answered our “we need a funny case” call. 17 year old male presents with pain in his abdomen, no trauma, walk in. Read the chart and in the medications column it read “Viagra.” They bring the kid back and make him change into a gown. I am the first one to see the guy.

I walk into the room and he is sitting in a weird Indian style position. Told him to lay back and tell me the problem. The thing is once he laid back I saw the problem. Homeboy had pitched a tent! So, I told him the doc would be back with him shortly. Walked over to Dr. M and said, “dude, you have a  camper in fast-track.” He of course looked at me as if I was deranged. Goes into see the patient, 5 minutes later comes out looking like he was going to explode with laughter. I asked him, “bro how could a 17 y/o with a raging hard on be so funny.” Then he told me.

“JP it’s not the hard on that is funny, its what he did with his hard on that is making me laugh.”  Okay spill it! This is an abridged transcript of my conversation with Dr. M:

Dr. M: Dude he stuck his wang in a bottle.

JP: So?

Dr.M: It’s now stuck on him.

JP: What do you mean “it’s stuck on him?” Like a leech?

Dr.M: No you dick. His Johnson was stuck in a bottle.

JP: Well, how are we going to get the genie out of the bottle?

Dr. M: Well that’s the thing, he broke the bottle and now the rim is stuck around the shaft.

JP: You’re fuckin with me.

Dr.M: No dude. This kid stuck his Viagra hard on into a beer bottle, so he could get off around 6. Then when it got stuck and couldn’t pull it off, the dumb-ass broke the bottle. So, he told his mom and she brought him here.

JP: Let me see the chart. (examine chart) No way! That is too funny. Well why don’t I just go get a hammer and break the damn thing?

Dr.M: Can’t glass shards.

JP: Call the surgeon let him deal with it.

Dr.M: He would never talk to us again. Why don’t we put KY on it and try to pull it off.

JP: That is probably the gayest thing you have ever said to me. Okay, but you are jerking the kid off, not me.

Dr. M: You’re right. What if we scare him?

JP: Do you still carry a picture of your ex-wife?

Dr.M: Nope, but I have one of your mom!

JP: Nice burn. I guess we could dope him up with valium and wait.

Dr.M: I’m not wasting good drugs on this asshole. Plus, he is turning a healthy shade of purple.

JP: Okay, umbilical tape from the nursery ought to do the trick. Like a ring stuck on the finger. It will just take a few minutes and it has to hurt like hell.

Dr.M: Good call. Lets do it.

I obtained the tape (which is more like sterile dental floss than tape) and hit on a few of the Ob nurses while there. Come back and explain to the kid what had to be done. he asked if it was going to hurt and of course I told him, “not as much as have a piece of broken glass stuck on your cock.” By this point in time I rounded up as many people as I could. My two EMS Students and one really hot nursing student; that is a story for later. We all crowded in the room for a “teaching session.” The lecture topic of the night, “Misadventures in medication:Why Viagra and glass bottles don’t mix.”

BTW: this kids mom thought all of this was hysterical and had to leave the room because she was laughing so damn hard.

Eventually the taping maneuver worked and the glass was taken off. Though the humiliation didn’t  stop there. As I was wrapping up my lecture and the procedure, I ended it on this note. Looking directly at the patient I said, “Okay, so today we have learned a few things. Don’t take meds not intended for you. Don’t stick your penis into anywhere it doesn’t belong. More importantly, we have learned that it would have probably been cheaper and less painful to pick up a hooker. Even if she is skank and you get VD, you would still get more respect for screwing her; rather than having your mom laugh at you for screwing a bottle.”

p.s. The kid took it all in stride and was actually pretty mellow. Lesson learned the hard way!

If only there was a sign…

 

Seriously was written on the side walk at the university

If only life was as simple as this sign. A directory to show you where the good stuff is. However, there is  not. Its a long road with blind corners, crazy ass bus drivers, and people who can’t get their head out of their ass. To be honest I may be one of those people that may have a rectal-cranial impaction. On Saturday, I seriously felt like one of those people when I received an email from a potential employer, saying that my wildest dreams would not come true; secondary to a menical foreign government that did not want to provide external funding. I have been waiting since patiently since November. One on hand it is nice to have a solid answer finally; the other feels like I have been punched, because I was wicked excited at the prospect of being gone for 6 months, even if it was the desert. 

So, I have been a little distraught and a little reflective about my ultimate goals and ambitions. Overall, I am stoked about a lot of potential on the horizion, but at the same time, there is nothing concrete. I think the point of this post is me just wanting say, “hey world, I still cool with ya. A little bummed about stuff, but I was not promised anything. I appreciate the little curve balls you throw at me from time to time. Truly you are pretty rad. Please stop stringing me along, I would really like to put down some roots and be reunited with my brewing gear that resides in N. VA. “

So, what do I do when I get down? I go out and bag me a hot lady. But this particular lady came with another hot lady as a delivery system. Being the nice guy I am, I went out and bought my girl some new lipstick…

 

She is so hot!

Thanks for reading my random ass thoughts. I am going to take a break until TMI Thursday, due to a really busy work schedule. So, swing back by then and I promise a disturbing and semi-erotic story. Cheers! (that was for Smell the Glove)

We drink this stuff like water on the base…

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

“We drink this stuff like water at the base,” were my buddy Mike D’s last word one fateful New Years Eve…

Let me rewind the tape and throw some seasoning on your brain. It was New Years 1998 going into 1999. There were about 20 people assembled; the entire surf crew from New Smyrna Beach and we met up at LB’s house. Our plan, roll out to NSB and party like the rock stars we were, on the beach. This particular evening Mike D was joining us fresh off leave from the Air Force and lets just say, he was ready to aim high.

There was more people than cars/trucks, so being a nice evening (50 degrees in Florida mid-January) Mike D and I rode in the back of Phillips truck. On the way out Mike D and I caught up on things. During the conversation he pulls out a bottle of  Bacardi Limon. For those that have never had this crap, it is a lemon flavored rum that tastes like lemon heads with way too much sugar and that taste you get after smelling rubbing alcohol. Either way, we decided it would be a good idea to drink the bottle on the way out to the beach. This is where it got interesting. Mike D looks at me and with all seriousness says, “Dude, we drink this stuff like water on the base, do you think you can hang?” My reply, “shit ya!”

We roll into NSB about 25 minutes later and I am ready to rock out with my cock out! However, Mike D was a bit more sluggish than I was. He made it out of the truck and kind of stumbles around a bit,  looks at me funny and goes white. He is not having a good day. Crawls back into the truck and yacks all over himself! Like Ol’ faithful, he let it rip. All. Over. His. Clothes. What was a really wasted JP doing at this time you might ask? The only logical thing possible. I was running up and down the beach wearing only cowboy boots with a girl that joined us for the evening.*

Cops came and 3 am rolled around; we all decided it was time to go back to LB’s house and continue the party. Hell, I wasn’t driving. The problem was I had to ride back with puke boy; this is where the naked girl was really cool and joined me in the back of the truck.** We roll up to LB’s house and I shit you not, this is what happened next.

We pull up and Mike D asks the girl and I if we had arrived. I said, “dude, where have you been, we never left LB’s house. You got so wasted in the back of the truck, we just left you there.” He crawls out of the truck and say’s, “well fuck you guys for leaving me here, I’m going to bed.” He stumbles to the back porch and curls up in a ball and crashes the fuck out.

So Mike D is laid out on the porch and LB comes walking out with his new puppy. As we crack another beer and get talking we see the puppy stroll over to Mike D’s jacket, sniff him, and I shit you not, pissed on his head. Seriously, this little 15 lb labrador pissed out the Rio Grande all over Mike D. We could not believe it! The best part is while the dog was watering Mike D, no one stopped him. We couldn’t! We were all laughing to damn hard. Even Baby Jesus was laughing about this one. Thinking all the excitement had concluded, we see Mike D roll over into huge pile of his own puke.

Being the good friends we were, we broke out the hose and sprayed him down. He was so wasted that it didn’t even phase him. Fast forward your tape deck to the morning and a wet, cold and really gnarly Mike D emerges. He asked the group of us (who looked pretty bad ourselves) what had happened last night. No one could hold it in. We all broke out in laughter! Then, the very mellow baritone voice of Chad emerged, “Bro, you got so shitfaced that you puked on yourself at the beach. Then again when we got back home, and again when you got mad and passed out on the porch.” Mike D then asks, “well what the fuck is so funny?”

I will never forget what  Chad said next,”Bro, you remember how you liked LB’s new puppy so much before we left the house. Well, he liked you too. While you were passed out, he marked you as his territory. So, dude, we are laughing because the dog made you his bitch and pissed all over you.”

Mike D stormed out and refused to talk to us for like 3 weeks. To this day he gets pissed if you mention what happened that night. Probably, because we can’t help laughing while telling it…

• I thought it was cool to wear cowboy boots, pants, and a t-shirt. I have since learned, but think its still cool.
• *She totally rocked!

Coming soon!

Okay so today I was going to put a lot of people on blast, but I was distracted by a few things last night. With that said, here is what to expect next week:

1. On Blast Monday. I will be lighting up certain people that really deserve to have their spot blown up. So, if you have some one you want to blast as well, send me an email and I will add you in.
2. I will be reviewing Lagunitas Brewing’s IPA Maximus, my new favorite beer of the week.
3. The always popular TMI Thursday’s will be in full effect! ER style…

Have a great weekend and get into as much trouble as you can.

Laters,

JP

FYOTD

It is time for the many FYOTD’s. For those looking for the normal JP entertainment, sorry but today is not that day. Instead I am taking it upon myself to give some well deserved shout outs that I have been holding back.

1) To the government of an oil rich desert nation, you are first up. I would like to say FU for thinking the US economy is so weak that you could under cut the working budget and hire Bangladeshi’s at a cheaper price line. I hope your project goes straight into the shitter, as you cannot match US standards while employing non-US contractors. Oh, and thanks for stringing me along since November, appreciated. On a lighter note, whomever did make this deal package,from a foreign policy stand point it totally makes sense.

2) A huge FU to grad school that emailed me to tell me they would email me in 2 weeks to inform me of their decision. What. The. Fuck. Seriously, some one is fucking with me on this. Why on Earth would you mail someone that you have kept in the dark for months, to tell them it will be 2 more weeks. Come on. What is 2 more weeks of silence? This was poor execution.

3) To  the ex-girlfriend who has been thrust back into my life and infiltrated all of my female friends. Huge FU!!! You don’t talk to me for 2 years, then all of a sudden I can’t shake you. You are everywhere! Then, my friends ask, “JP why don’t you hang out with us anymore?” Simple. I am not going to deal with this non-sense. Oh yea, the text I got the other day inviting me to dinner with everyone because your family is in town. FU, because you went that concerned about me meeting them years ago. And good thing I asked who would be at said dinner, because upon investigation I find out your new guy is going as well. Strong work! Invite me to hang out with your family that you were embarrassed to introduce me to in the first place along with the new guy you are dating. All to use a buy-one-get-one free coupon. FU! Oh, yea this is my formal RSVP of, fuck no I will not be there.

4) To the female roomy.  Really? You are hanging with the said offender all the time. Okay, when I said it was cool if you hung out with her, I really didn’t think you would. Now, this is my fault for thinking a woman knew man law. As in, no other man hangs out with his buddy’s ex. At all. No matter what. Women don’t think that way and this is where the battle of the sexes can be strongly highlighted. Seriously, there is a reason the girl and I are no longer together. Why would I want her all up in my shit again? If you are going to live with guys, you must learn the law of the land.

5) To work: Yea, you pay me and I have a job, but come on guys. Seriously can we pull it together just a little? That is all I ask.

6) To the girl my sister reached out to, gave a place to stay, and hooked up a job… FU! FU for pulling some scandalous shit. For blowing up her work spot and causing drama for no reason. To think you guys were friends for so long and you ruin everything or someone you lusted after and only knowing them after a month. Seriously, that is bullshit. Even though you have done nothing me directly, I  still say FU. Blood will always be thicker than water and I can say from experince, Karma is a whore.

7) Last but most certainly not least. ME. Fuck Me! Especially for letting any and or all of the above bother me. For being impatient and intolerant of stupidity. For being a “nice guy” recently and allowing this to go on. A few years ago I would have dropped kicked these people for screwing around. I hear this is called maturity, but I don’t like it. F Me for being a hopeless romantic and wanting someone that it will never work out with. And an even bigger F-Me for having larger than life expectations for myself. I can only accomplish so many things at one time and taking on the everything at once will continue to frustrate me. As I have seen this lesson many times, I still have not learned it. Oh, and finally a huge FU to myself for turning down free Red Sox-Braves tickets last night, because I have to be all responsible at work and couldn’t skip out. I mean who is this guy?

If you have made it this far, tomorrow we will get back to the good stuff. I am reviewing the Lagunitas Maximus IPA and covering the finer points of ale selection. Thanks for bearing with me. Cheers!

Lagunitas Maximus

Welcome to Hail the Ale…

Today I would like to tell you about Lagunitas’ Limited Release Maximus IPA. For those that don’t know IPA stands for India Pale Ale. Back in the day England had to get good beer to India for their troops the problem was, beer spoiled on the long voyage. But being the clever alcoholics that they are, the English added more hops which is a natural preservative and boosted the alcohol content. Now, this happens to be one of my favorite styles because I am a hop head and love the enamel peeling bitterness of tons of hops. In this case, well its a bit different.

One of the reasons I like Lagunitas so much, is that they place beer geek info on their bottle. They are not afraid of showing what they have:

O.G. 1.080- Not Original Gangsta but close. This stands for Original Gravity meaning how much potential sugar is available for fermentation. (Okay, really short explanation of a pretty complex idea)

ABV 7.2%- Everyone favorite Alcohol by volume. Very straight forward. Oh, your normal beer hangs out around 4.5% -5%

I.B.U. 72.41- International Bitterness Scale Which measures the bitterness in a beer provided by the hops. Lets put this one in perspective. A beer such as Bud is around 8, Corona 12, Guinness around 25-30, a run in the mill IPA 40-50. This one is almost double that!

“Tats, nipple piercing, cutters, burners and hummers. A cold Maximus just makes perfect sense.” I kid you not, that’s what is written on the label!

Umm um good!

This particular beer is a bit different than a normally super hopped IPA. Most IPA’s that jack up the IBU’s will feel like the hops are eating away the enamel off your teeth or leave a really residual sugar taste on your tongue (Delirium Tremens Trappist ale). This one however has a very soft sugar tone, which is awesome for having such a high alcohol content and the first dose of hops to hit your tongue is mild with a big blast of grapefruit tones at the end.

If I had to describe this beer as a woman I would say she is a full size 9 or 10, good and healthy. Not a spinner and definitely and a porker. She has a thick booty and  proportionate breast. I imagine her with long flowing dark brunette hair and a huge anti-social personality. You can bring her around your friends, but too many and she will start a fight.

For the IPA beginner, I would recommend this beer. It is subtle and palatable enough with citrus tones shinning through from the hops to really bring someone around. I do caution you, this is a damn good beer and highly addictive. Where they get you is the limited release, meaning if you are like me you will need to stock up.

My beer fridge after a run on total wines

Like I said, limited release means I had to stock up. Plus I plan on making Hail the Ale a regular feature. So, think of it as market research.

Top shelf booze

Next week, Dogfish Head’s Fort brewed with pureed Raspberries. Looking forward to that one! Cheers!

Lurking today

I am taking a break today due to my schedule. Plus, I want to catch up on everyone else’s blogs and stalk show my support for others. So, tomorrow come on back for some good ol’ fashioned TMI Thursdays.

If you have a weak stomach, don’t press forward…

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

The following story should not be enjoyed while eating breakfast… You have been warned! Now, another edition of TMI Thursday, ER edition.

I started thinking about the concept of TMI Thursday and one simple thing is missing, the gross. Most people think gross is puke, piss, or the occasional poo. Not at the Gospel! I am often asked, JP what is the grossest thing you have ever scene? Easy answer, exploding foot.

Things that go boom

Let me paint your palate with something new. I came on shift and inherited a patient from the day shift. A homeless man about 45-50 years old. He had diabetes, MRSA, and Gangrene; his foot was rotten. He had been admitted for antibiotics and a minor amputation of said foot. For a guy in a really bad condition, he was in good spirits. Spry almost and very eager to get back out into the world and get face first into a 40 oz.; we at least had one thing in common.

Now, for those not familiar with gangrene it is nasty. It is a gnarly complication of  necrosis, characterized by the decay of tissue which becomes black or sometimes green. If you are lucky (the health care provider) it will remain a closed wound. But if that  bad boy opens up the following scenario will ensue:

I took the guy up the surgical floor in a wheel chair, because obviously walking is not the preferred choice. I get him to his room and as we turn in he looked at me and said, “I got it!” Before I could even think about the statement, he was up and walking; bandages unraveling. He took one step out and his left foot hit the floor and I heard ***SQUISH!*** followed by a light ***SPLATTER*** like that sound water makes when it hits a shower curtain, yea; accompanied by a light dusting of stank. I looked down and saw what looked like a splatter painted canvas with hues of red, green and a mauve white. But that is not the worst part.

borrowed from fabricattic.com

The smell of rotting flesh, freshly painted across the floor is something no one is prepared for! AT. ALL. Imagine, a potpourri-esque flavoring of meat that has been locked in a warm cooler for a week, topped with eggs that have been pickled and sat out in the sun, combined with a caustic tequila tinged toilet smell, fresh in the morning after a bender. Now, I will let that marinate in your brain for a minute.

Imagine that scene combined with smell and JP locked inside an isolation room with it all. I was scratching the paint off the wall to get out of there! So, I politely said, “you are fucking insane” and pissed of out of there. The nurse I was “talking to” at the time rounded the corner and before she saw me, she said “what the hell is that smell.” We meet our eyes lock and without skipping a beat I said, “that wonderful smell is me and your new patient whose left foot is now all over the floor.” Her response, “well I guess you won’t be sleeping at my place in the morning.” Yea, I was the billboard for sexy!

I get back down to the ER, went to the break room and stripped to my boxers. Put on a patient gown and b-lined it to the surgical scrub in area. I could not escape the skank! I was rancid. Seriously it was so bad I was turning green and had to go home and use Gojo pumice hand cleaner to scrub myself. I scrubbed my skin raw with that damn soap to get that stuff off.

Gojo hand cleaner to take off auto grease

Around 6 am I get a call from the nurse I was “talking to” to tell me that she couldn’t stop puking after she dressed his wounds and they sent her home too! My reply was, “well I guess you are not coming over here then” and proceeded to laugh my nuts off.

Someecards.com

That ladies and gentlemen was the worst full sensory experience of my life!

Don’t mess with my routine

So it has almost been a week since I have been on mainly due to a crazy work schedule, but also my own devices. I had to unplug my brain for a hot minute. Then, yesterday happened! Let me marinate your brains with some flavor…

Many of us have a routine in the morning, some are more rigorous and complex than others. Personally, mine is more of a comfort issue and not so much a necessity; however, change one thing in my line up and my brain falls apart. Take these fine observances for example:

• What the hell is this? Antiques? Where is my BBC World New’s? I want my worldly updates with a British wit and sarcasm, not fucking antiques. Oh well, time for Sports Center!
• Holy hell, how did it get so damn cold so fast. Yesterday I was sweating my balls off and today my boys are going to get frost bite, what the hell?
• If this chick taps her brakes one more time I swear I will ram my Lincoln straight up her ass!
• Why must women people speak to me in the morning? Nothing of significance has happened since last night that I need a pre-coffee update. Now, piss off.
• Yes, I am in a bad mood (see reasons above) and I hate Dr. Phil. So what are your chances that I will be nice to you while you ask me “whats wrong”? You, you are whats wrong.
• I feel my inner ninja poised for attack.
• That’s it! I am taking my toys and going home…

I realized that this blog is a nice outlet and comes in handy to release my bottled up energy. Bear with me for a bit I am trying to accomplish a few things that require some kind of attention span. With that said, here is the line up for the rest of the week:

TMI Thursday: Where we explore the world of farts; mainly because my ER stories are grossing people out.

Friday Holy Hale of an Ale: I will be reviewing 3, that’s right 3, seasonal Ales; Dogfish Head’s Black and Blue and Fort along with Lagunitas’ Hop Stoopid Farm House Ale.

I will also be making an appearance over at the PQNation as well.

Enjoy!

Gas Chamber

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

This TMI is a light one this week. My graphic foot splatter from last week may have set the bar a bit high.

On Saturday’s my friends and I had a ritual of going to beach and surfing the best breaks we could find in Florida. This Saturday was no different, in fact we found a spot we called monster hole; this is where Nate got bit by a shark on his big toe. We called it his frog bite. Anyways, the night before we went to a massive southern style buffet and threw down as if we had grown up in some impoverished nation never seeing that amount of food. Ever. Let’s just say I went a little wild on the “greens”. Collards, mustard, turnip, and okra were all in attendance.The thing about greens and I, well its a love hate relationship. I love them and they don’t love me. However, they do give me super Iraqi style death gas. This Saturday morning I speak of is no different.

As we are driving to Cocoa Beach in Nate’s behemoth of a 1992 red Ford  station wagon, Gabes, Dutch, and Carl were passed out in the back. I had shotgun and was loaded ready to go. As we cruised down the road I blasted a wicked fart, not too silent, but not too loud. All the windows were up (ones in the back were broken) and it was a temperate 88 degrees outside. It was the perfect storm of farts. I let’er rip and as soon as I did Nate just laughed.

About a minute goes by and I think all is clear until I heard Carl awake from a dead sleep, “Dude! What the fuck is that smell?”

Nate, “what are you talking about bro?”

Carl, “Oh shit, I can’t breathe! Open the the fucking windows!”

Nate, “Dude, windows are broke.”

Me laughing hysterically and watching the other guys wake up to this tragic smell as well.

Gabes, “Pull the fucking car over!”

Dutch, “I think I am going to be sick.”

Carl, “JP you are a dick!”

Gabes, “You guys are assholes!”

Nate pulled the car over and we all bailed out. Nate and I laughing so hard we were crying! The fart was so bad that we had to air the car out for about 5 minutes on the side of the road in Cocoa beach. Seriously that shit lingered. I was proud of my handy work. I had ripped the worst fart of my life and there were people trapped in the car to suffer through it. A dutch oven had nothing on the station wagon. Just. Plain. Awesome!

Be Aware there is some scary stuff out there

I have been invited to play with hang out with the beautiful girls of the PQNation! Today, for STD Awareness month, we will be covering the lesser known issue of the Herps. Thats right folks, were talking herpes. So swing on by and say hi. These girls have a lot of good things going on. I mean hell, its not everyday I get invited over to play with the girls… Umm, whaaa?

So put these lovely vixens in your readers and getcha learn on son! Cause we talkin’ bout da Herps! Word.

Black and Blue… The good kind.

Over the last week I have had some things come up in life that knocked me back. Actually, they knocked me down and out for a bit and I may have not taken the initial news very well. To fill you in I was passed over for a mega job in the desert and I was placed on a waiting list for the grad school program, that happened to be my top choice. It was a one, two punch. Then I got a letter from the state saying I owe them $2,500 in damages from an accident 2 years ago (I was side swiped, hit a guard rail and went rolling down the highway at 50 mph’s). So, there was 3.

So, seeing how I have got a few bumps and bruises to my ego and wallet I decided to splurge a bit. My splurge of choice was Dogfish Head’s Black and Blue Ale; Belgian amber with blackberries and blueberries:

Limited Release Black and Blue

The Run Down:

Found it at Total Wine for $11.99 for 22 oz’s

ABV: 10% meaning it would take 2 Bud’s to match one glass of these bad boys in the alcohol department.

IBU’s: 25- Not a strong showing on the hops but not weak either. Nice balance with the acids from the fruit.

Overall Taste and complex: I enjoyed the hue of this beer. Slightly cloudy, but I have a feeling it’s bottled conditioned and carbonated (meaning yeast is introduced into bottle to create bubbles). Fairly creamy head (that’s what she said). The berries were a nice blend with the Belgian malts, it was sweet, but not like a Jolly Rancher. I think the hop combination with the fruit washed over the palate quite nicely. I would have preferred a higher hop count, but that  is just me; I am going through a crazy hop phase right now.

On the JP beer scale (1-10) I give this: 8.5

This is the Tyra Banks of beers and is a nice treat for someone who likes a full figured ale. Sweet, bubbly, amber tones, and overall great balance. I think the ladies would especially like the tone and balance of the this beer, especially those that like a Riesling or a Beaujolais wine. Guys, it’s bold enough that you won’t feel like a pansy while drinking it. Plus, the color and head profile at first glance looks like a Orval Trappist Ale.

On a completely separate note:

If anyone from Dogfish Head happens to actually read this, I am currently available if you need someone with a communications/marketing background willing to relocate to the Del/Mar/Va area. I have 7 years of home brewing experience and appreciate your off-centered approach. Oh, I work for cheap!

Thanks,

JP

Stoopid is, as stoopid does!

I have been listening to my friends lately about their personal issues and trying to relate them to mine. As I said yesterday, I have had a rough few weeks; however, I am relatively sans serious issue. My ego bruises do not compare to those that have relationship issues (I have had no relations) and I may be broke, but at least I am IRS free (LiLu we will have that John Daly while cursing their first born). In general I am pretty mellow once I got over myself.

How did I get over all the non-sense you may ask? Well, I splurged on a Citizen Cope album after being inspired by FrancoBean’s free verse Friday and I got a bit Stoopid. Hop Stoopid to be exact. I broke down and bought a case of Lagunitas Hop Stoopid farm house ale. Yes, I said it, case! No bullshitting here. I was tipped off about a one case shipment to my local Total Wine and I could not delay. In fact I called the store over the course of 3 days to insure I was the only one to have possession of this item. When I called in, they said they sold out in minutes and had to re-order. I was proud.

Why would JP buy a case of an Ale called Hop Stoopid? No, it’s  not because I like a certain band from Cali, though this brewery is located in Petaluma, coincidence? I think not.

Seriously Stoopid

Anyways, here is the run down on the Lagunitas Stoopidity:

Special Ordered it from Total Wine: for $4.11 per 22 oz bottle

ABV: 7.7% Mellow, but will surely get the job done after a solid double duce.

O.G.: 1.085 They started off with a solid foundation of hearty malts

IBU’s: 102! Ever heard the term “take the enamel off your teeth?” You can feel the hop oil on you bicuspids! It is rad.

Overall Taste and complex: You may recall me going on about how good this brewery’s Maximus was right? Well, this is like the devil spawn of Maximus. White lacy head that complements the balanced and pale body. It has a citrus pine note that is like biting into a grapefruit, without the Atomic Sour WarHead reaction. It is a very low key IPA, usually to get the alcohol up, a lot of brewers will increase their malt/sugar profile. Lagunitas has shown they can have a ballsy IPA with an insane hop count while keeping it palatable. In fact you can have a few of these with out irritating your taste buds and or stomach; hard feat for a lot of India Pale Ales.

On the JP beer scale(1-10), I give this a 9.9 for the brewery presenting us with a proper India Pale Ale anyone would be proud to be a caught in public with.

This beer is like watching Eva Longoria and Kat Von D hook up! Let me give you a moment to process that statement. I know, just purely unreal. Okay so I too  just had a personal moment there. The sexy vixen of lace and seduction (malt profile)  meets the bold tattooed beauty (102 IBU’s of hops). This is not a voyeurs beer! This is a down and dirty make you and your entire crew blush kind of brew. Now, I have really put this one out there by the last few statements, I know this. I stand by my words.

Now, please realize this is not the greatest beer in the world, by far. However, all of the elements from malt, yeast and hops, this beer has come together very well. Think of it as that real lanky girl that had braces and was shy in high school. You would totally date her and probably even hooked up with her once or twice. Then one day you are in the grocery store several years later with your girl friend and up walks this beautiful super model. That. Knows. Your. Name. Then you have to ’splain just how you know that bombshell vixen to your girlfriend; which subsequently gives her a “am I pretty complex” for the next year, kind of beer.

Thank you for your continued support of The Gospel of JP!

Things that make me go ewww

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Now, here’s a little story I gots to tell about 3 bad brothers ya know so well… Wait, wrong channel.

Welcome to another edition of TMI, tales of the ER. In this episode, JP hits the floor.

I have been reading a lot of poop related TMI posts and the majority of which are from women. In which they go on to tell us they shite themselves. I am slightly disturbed by this because I do not handle poop very well, nor do I handle girls shitting themselves either. At this point you may ask, JP how do you know you are bothered by women shitting themselves? Simple, so this one time at band camp in the ER I came to work and was greeted with a surprise.

I had just come in to my usual shift in an ER that was all of 10 beds, where my friend K (who was really hot) was waiting for me. This always made me suspicious. She went on to tell me that she needed help taking an overdose patient up to ICU, because I had big strong muscles; I am a total sucker for ego inflation. As we were getting ready to take this smoking hot girl who tried to end it with Tylenol, up to ICU, I began to read the chart.

—Quick side note. If you choose to kill yourself with pills, you may succeed. However, overdosing on Tylenol is a horrible way to go. It shuts down you liver and it takes several days to die, if you even do die. Usually, those that use Tylenol end up having to be on dialysis the rest of their lives, thus putting them in a more miserable position than they started off with.—

So, as I am reading I stumble upon the catalyst for the chain of events about to happen. It read, “given 100 grams activated charcoal.” In itself this stuff is really cool and one of my favorite drugs to give. Basically, the carbon binds to toxins. The cool thing about this stuff if it tastes horrible and you have to drink it. When someone is done drinking it it leaves their entire mouth jet black, teeth and all. They always smile after drinking it, as if it was a relief to be through with it. The major down side, sorbitol. Sorbitol is used in sweeteners, rocket fuel, and of course the reason for my look of fear this particular evening, laxative!

This stuff is not your average laxative, it is a sleeper. No discomfort, just about one hour later, pure colonic blowout. As if your colon is cruising down the Hershey highway and has a blow out at 80 mph’s causing it to go careening over the edge of “hold it in” cliff. There is nothing a person can do other than run. Run like the fuzz is coming to give you 99 to life. This particular patient was incompasitated and her bowls were going 100mph’s.

I set the chart down, unlock the bed, and get ready to make my charge towards the elevator when I heard K say, “Oh shit, JP, we have shit. Quick a get a towel!” Me, “get a towel?” I had a gob smacked look written all over my Chevy Chase at this point. Springing to action I grabbed towels and other necessary supplies and come to K’s aid like a knight in shining armor. Then it happened. I saw my kryptonite oozing out of this chick like someone had struck oil. Seriously, charcoal + sorbitol = an ass oil feild. The Exxon Valdez didn’t do as much damage as this 115 lb girl did.

Then something odd happened, something that has never happened to me, ever! I started feeling a bit light on my feet. How you say, a bit peckish. K looks right at me and asks, “dude are you okay? You look a bit, umm, white.” The last thing I remember, I was saying, “naw I’m cool.” Apparently I was not cool and my tan skin turned ghost white, while I braced myself up against the wall. This is the same wall that I decided would get the honor and privilege of having JP pass out on.

Thats right, the site and smell combination of this oil slick shit caused me to pass the fuck out, right at the beginning of my shift. This is a very odd phenomenon, because I had a reputation of being able to tolerate anything, seriously, anything. My weakness was exposed. To be honest I was only out for 5-10 seconds. I was woken by the sound of laughter from my associates, who thought it was the funniest thing they have seen.

After this incident poop smell has triggered a strange reflex in my brain. If I get the smell/sight combination in my brain, I feel my knees begin to buckle. Rotting flesh, puke, blood, or burn trauma I’m your man. Someone that shits themselves and I become as useless as tits on a bull. To this day, that moment of weakness lives on. Any time someone had a poop patient, they would page me. Yea, we were a loving bunch.

So ladies, for the sake of JP, quit shitting yourselves, its just not cool. Next week I may tell about the time my buddy’s girlfriend passed out drunk and shit herself and they called me to the rescue. HA!

Taking a hot minute

Hello, I am still here. But not really. I have tons of things I have been trying to catch up on and figured I needed a break. I thought this last Friday and now it being Wednesday, I felt I needed to get around to it. Anyways, long story short I needed a break. From everything. Unfortunately the Gospel of JP has taken the brunt of this disconnect. Even my tweets have become silenced. Its cool though. I will be back with a vengeance next week reviewing some beers, taking about non-sense, hell I even get to hang out with the beautiful Emma James from pleasure notes.

So, swing back by on Monday and see whats going on. Hopefully by then I will have my work/slacker schedule back on line and ready to post. Cheers and thanks for stopping by!

Not so royal

During my short break I was able to focus on a few things that I had been neglecting such as friends, family, and cleaning the house. Not big things individually, but combined they have helped me hit the reset button. Like all things any time for reflection is good, no matter what you are reflecting on. It will give you the chance to look back and say, “so thats why.”

This is the case with Avery Brewing out of Colorado. To be honest I am not a big fan of really anything they have released in the past 2 years. I do not dislike them, I  would just rather prefer something else. Now with that said, I was excited to hear they had an Imperial India Pale Ale out for a limited release (March-Aug). I have been on a serious hop kick lately and the packaging really caught my eye.

Here is the run down on Avery’s 22 oz. Maharaja IPA:

Price tag: $8.99 a bottle

ABV: A kick you in the nuts 10.54% seriously I got lit.

O.G.: 1.090 and heavy on the Carmel malt.

IBU: 102 units of strong hops. This was the exact reason why I picked up this brew.

Overall taste and complex: The hops in the brew were gorgeous. I love strong hops. However, what I do not like is when the brewer uses really sweet malts and sugar profiles to jack up the alcohol. Even with the hops shining through, the sweetness just killed me. I think after a pint I started to get a stomach ache from all the sugars. Though I did catch a nice buzz.

On the JP beer scale(1-10), I give this beer a 6.5. Though it was sweet, it was keeping with tradition with the IPA of being a high gravity beer and in this case a very sweet one. The reason I  gave it the extra .5 was due strictly to the hops.

The Imperial Maharaja ale reminds me of Jenna Jameson in Zombie Strippers. At first you are really excited because A. Jenna is in it. B. It has zombie strippers. C. Who doesn’t like zombie strippers? When you first start watching this movie you are focusing in on all of the elements that makes the movie and really are not to concerned about the outcome. In your brain the parts should equal a great sum. Like this movie, the beer does not hold up to the ingredient hype. Both the movie and the beer (yes I was watching it while drinking this beer) just died off and made me slightly nausea’s at the end. So, if you like sweet and hoppy, this could be your jam. For me I feel the ingredients, much like Jenna, were rode out just too damn long. Like 70’s porn and the pet rock this beer is a limited engagement and as a community we are better off for that.

JP goes classy

I tried to come up with a traditional review for this classy drink, but just couldn’t put into words. So,  a first on the Gospel, I prepared a photo essay for Francis Ford Coppola’s Sofia Sparkling wine; in a Freakin CAN! With A Straw!!! This was too awesome. Enjoy:

This is Sofia. The Coppola Vineyard’s sparkling California white wine. 70% Pinot Blanc, 20% Sauvignon Blanc, 10% Muscat Cannelli. In A Freakin Can!

Did I mention it comes with it’s own flexi-straw attached?

Yes, I am drinking sparkling wine in a pink can with a straw. 

Hello, you are not too bad. 

Oh Shit! How did that pinky get out there?

Oh yea, things are looking up!

This has a bit of a kick… Yet smooth and classy. You know trailer park classy.

This stuff is really freaking good!

Why did I even bother with the straw? Oh yea, cause the straw freakin rocks!

I am sad it’s all gone. 

 

By the way it comes in a 4 pack for like $6 bucks. Go getcha some… for the ladies!

 

(My mom was with me when I bought this and she questioned my manhood. It was quite comical. I think fruity was the term.)

JP Coast to Coast

Hey guys!  Today I am over on the left coast holding it down for the beautiful Emma James while she is in Ireland. I am a little sad that I am not with her, but someone has to live the life of luxury. So, get yourself over to Pleasure Notes and see what brings JP pleasure.

See ya tomorrow for TMI Thursday!

Fire in the hole!

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Now I know this is not a normal TMI, but how it went down was just too cool not to share. Next week I will be back in full force. Enjoy!

Lately I have been trying to eat healthier than normal, living off the land sort of mentality. This  means extra leafy greens and fiberous plant substances. Well, thats good for you right? No! No it is not. Especially when you are me. See one by product of greens is gas. Normally I am not that gassy of a person, I mean no more than your average guy. Except when you add the fart rocket fuel known as veggies.

Typically my gas all tapped out in the evening about 4 hours after I eat. My body, I know thee well. Maybe too well some times if you know what I mean. Anyways, I had a nice salad, brussel sprouts, and onions the other evening along with my chicken. These powers combined and formulated a toxic methane cloud in my bowels. Feeling a little bloated and gnarly I thought I would blow off some steam later that evening. Boy, how I was wrong. That night no incident.

Roll into work the next day feeling great. I would even go as far as spectacular. Until I drank a V-8.  I was called into a meeting about 30 minutes later and things subsided a bit. I breathed a sigh of relief… Prematurely!

As I was sitting there listening to the boss, I felt as if someone kicked me straight in the gut. I didn’t know if I had to fart or shit myself! After a moment of analysis I was pretty sure a wicked fart was screaming for escape, but the problem was I couldn’t move, nor could I begin to even get out of my chair. Realized I was sitting in a cloth chair I did the side slide maneuver, where you non-nonchalantly lean to one side and let it rip. The goal is to grip it and rip it sans noise. Score! It totally worked.

Oh, but how I was wrong. The thing is there might not have been any noise, but due to the large vegetable count, the smell was off the reservation. As I sat there a blend of aromas assaulted my nasal cavities. It was an odoriferous blend of chili, Brussel sprouts, boiled hot dogs, coupled with swamp ass. It was the coup de grace of horrific farts. In. My. Meeting.

So, there I sat marinading in my own stank. Next to a female (non-attractive)  co-worker, I had to think fast. I scrunched my nose and looked around then said in a whisper, “dude, what the hell is that smell?” Knowing full well it was me, I tried passing the buck. Then something amazing happened! My co-worker turned bright red and said, “oh, I am sorry. I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

Super score! I ripped a fat nasty and the chick next to me took the blame! I was wicked bad ass.

I feel lazy

On the cusp of my “official” graduation, awards ceremony (yes, they are giving me an award), graduation of others, out of town guests, NBA Play off’s, NHL Play off’s, trying to pack in a work out, and if I get around to working, lets just say the past few weeks have had no end. But it’s totally cool and I really don’t mind. However, my blog has suffered. It is the epitome of a neglected step child. I get emails from it, status updates, and general cries for attention. Yet, still I am not even trying to find time (except for today).

Will my flock of readers abandon me as I have abandoned them? When I do get back into the swing of things, what do I write about? Bottom line is I am life busy and unmotivated in the blog department. Though I am not the only one. Some of my favorite bloggers have been distancing themselves from their children too. As if a Jimmy Buffet concert came rolling into town for a 2 week bender.

Why I am I going on like this? Because deep down I love love my blog and you the reader. I wanted all aspects to know that my temperate behavior is due to my current environment and not you. Hopefully, I will get in the post about how I recently fell in love with Cognac, TMI Thursdays, and maybe a bit about the up coming non-sense.

All in all, thanks for your continued support. Thanks for supporting me even though I am neglecting to bring you what you come to me for. **This sounds like a conversation I have had with past girlfriends**

So, keep coming by! I will have some good stuff for you all soon.

PQ’s Current Love

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey there JP-land. I’m PQ…Princess Q or just Q if you wish…I’m not picky.  When JP asked me to write a guest post today, I had absolutely no idea where to start. Do I just ramble? Do I start with a joke? End with a joke? Do I get serious? OHMYGOD THE PRESSURE! And then…I saw a commercial on TV and I was mesmerized. The commercial was about cotton but…that’s not what mesmerized me…though cotton IS pretty fab…

No…It was the gorgeous woman IN the commercial.

Have you met Zooey?

I first saw Zooey in The Happening.  Aside from Mark Wahlberg’s ZILLION EXRESSIONS(!), Zoe was what really got me hooked to the movie. Who WAS this gorgeous creature? God, could she be more adorable? Any sweeter? Sexier?

Have you SEEN THOSE EYES?

Can’t you just imagine waking up to her every morning? I can. I have. She is my new love.

And then…I watched Yes, Man AND THERE SHE WAS! SINGING! Being frigging AMAZING!

Seriously. Where has she been ALL MY LIFE?

My life will now revolve around all things Zooey. Because she is the most amazing woman I have ever seen.

EVER.

Who is your current crush…male or female…or both?

Isn’t Zooey amazing? SHE’S ALL MINE DAMN IT!

Pants On Fire

Cheerio! That’s hello in British for those of you not “in the know.” (Jen just let me know it’s actually goodbye in British. Whatevs. It’s hello today.) My name is Maxie and I’m going to be taking over The Gospel of JP today. If you ask me, it was pretty brave of JP to allow me to have free reign over his blog. I considered pulling a prank or two, but to tell you the truth I’m not sure what would really get under JP’s skin. You see, we only had one face-to-face encounter… maybe I should say head-to-boob because that was the most memorable part of the night. I’d go into details, but I’m saving it for my tell all book coming out next month. 

Since I can’t actually play a prank on JP, I decided I’d tell you about one of the awesome pranks I pulled in high school and how you can pull it off too. The first step is to be an awesome liar and be able to keep a straight face. I’m a pretty damn good liar. In fact, it’s my 3rd best skill–I’ll let y’all guess the others. If you can’t lie then you should probably pull an ashton kutcher and hire someone to lie for you. 

God, Punk’d was so good in the beginning. Remember when they made Justin Timberlake cry? That was GOLD. 

Anyway, I was quite the prankster in high school, but there’s one prank that stands out among the rest. I’d like to refer to that prank as the peeking penis. 

One day, my two best friends Nat, Justin, and I were bored. I’d just turned 18, so we decided to go for a little romp to the sex toy store. I’m not sure why, maybe because the name was funny, but we ended up buying a Junior Asian Dong. 

We had plans to hang out at a friend’s house that night, and as we were pulling up we had the PERFECT idea. Right as we were walking up to the house Justin slipped the Jr. Asian in his pants in the “tucked up” position. I think that’s what guys do to hide their boners in their waistbands, but I can’t be sure. The kicker was Justin positioned the dong an inch or two above his pants. When we all sat down in the living room we made sure that Justin was sitting on the opposite side of the room from most of the guests, fake penis hidden under his shirt. 

After we got settled, the magic happened. Every few minutes Justin would stretch his arms up, raising his shirt–raising his shirt and exposing the tip of this fake penis. It was pretty much the same color as his skin, and from across the room you couldn’t tell that it was fake. Seeing someone try to silently react to an exposed penis head is one of the most awesome things EVER. One girl even shrieked and immediately pulled the host into the other room to tell him what was going on. 

A few minutes later the host told Nat that we needed to have a talk with Justin about his little problem, and as if on cue, Justin took the Junior Asian out of his pants and threw it in the girl’s face. 

It was fucking amazing, but I’m glad I wasn’t on the receiving end of the fake penis face toss. 

Feel free to use this prank as you like– I won’t even make you pay me as long as you email me and tell me how awesome it went. 

If you would like to hump my words daily, check me out at ihatesomuch.com.

The Problem is You

Hey y’all. I am Lexa from Culinary Couture…today I am taking a break from my normal foodie musings to drop some knowledge.

When JP asked me to post here, I immediately decided I was going to post one of my dating horror stories. Believe me, they are numerous. But then, upon some introspection, I realized most of these tales could have been avoided. In fact, they only had one thing in common…me.

Yes, I was the problem. Ladies, you are probably the issue most of the time as well.

Look, I am not one for the blame game, but you have to admit that sometimes us women just plow full speed ahead. We will ignore the signs, lie to ourselves. Well, I am here to speak some truths. You could be doing everything right, but I still have a shit ton to learn. Hell, just because I am writing this here list for you I would never be so bold to promise that I won’t ignore these signs once again. Baby steps, kids. Admitting the problem is the first step.

So without further ado, here are a few things that should send you running for the hills:

• He doesn’t call you back within a reasonable amount of time: If he likes you, he is going to call. It doesn’t have to be 20 minutes after you leave him a message, but none of this three day bullshit. Stop making excuses. Same goes with email. If it takes him more than 24 hours to get back to you and you have been on more than three dates, probably time to consider your future.

• He acts like he is doing you a favor every time you see him: If a guy wants to spend time with you, he will do it. He should not make a huge ordeal about how much he had to move around or things he had to cancel for a date. Look, dick is a dime a dozen. If you want to get banged, you can always find someone else to do it. If you want a relationship, the guy should make you feel like you a priority.

• He has a girlfriend/wife: Enough said. Really, he will not leave her. If he does leave her, you will never trust him and end up hating yourself for dating such a spineless pussy.

• He spends more time primping himself that you do: That’s just annoying. Guys should smell nice and have reasonably soft skin. Three hair products? Not so much. You are the pretty, pretty princess, not him.

• He does not have friends: I know the whole basis of “I Love You, Man” was the dilemma of a guy without pals, but it happens. I have dated more than a few men that seem to only have a handful of buddies. Unless he has lived here for less than a year, he should have several social circles and you should meet them within a reasonable amount of time. Friends can really help someone shine…or reveal a dud.

• He only seems to materialize between the hours of 2-8 am: This isn’t a boyfriend, it is a fuck buddy. That is cool, but don’t kid yourself. You cannot turn a fuck buddy in to something datable. If you think you can, consider yourself dickmatized.

And there we have it, just some of the signs that this guy is not for you. Consider this a public service announcement, a gift from me to you.

In Which I Completely Copy My Wife, Maxie

Hey y’all! I’m the entirely deranged yet hopefully lovable LiLu from Live It, Love It. If you’re reading JP on the reg (DUH), then you’re already familiar with the most vile awesome of my brain children, TMI Thursdays. We’ll keep it a bit more low-key then that today, because it’s probably against some sort of blogging-societal rules to go over to another man’s corner and write about sharting yourself. You can thank me later. (Unless you just clicked on that, in which case, how did that breakfast look the second time around?)

In fact, I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about at all, until I read my wife Maxie’s post yesterday. BRILLIANT, she is. And it just happened to remind me of my own fantabulous Senior prank…

We had worked our way through four years of high school and finally, GLORIOUSLY, had arrived at the top. The classes were assigned a color when they entered their freshman year, which they kept with them throughout their tenure at the school. Ours was green, and it was good for basically two things; Field Day, and the Class Prank.

The graduating class who passed green on to us was LE. GEN. DARY. You see, a class is forever judged by the prank they pull, and these people managed to steal the 20-foot inflatable Gumby off a building in Woos-tah, Massachusetts (A DOLLAH TWENTY-FIYUV!!!)- the same Gumby we all drove by nearly every damn day. He was a local icon, and he was green… and they stole him, and managed to get him up on the roof of our tiny little high school, where he waved at the world for a whole day.

Tell me that’s not awesome. Try. (See, you can’t do it.)

Anyhoo, the classes in between them and us were weak sauce, man. If they even pulled pranks, I can’t remember them, that’s how WEAK they were. So we knew when it was our turn, we had to amp it up. It had to be big, it had to be bold… we needed to make some history.

We had an advantage because as the girlfriend of an older degenerate, my already-graduated boyfriend has passed on to me the key to one of the school’s doors. (I didn’t ask how he got it. I didn’t want to know.) The night before Field Day, my hooligan Robotrippin’* friends and I snuck into the building, armed with green silly string, a whole lotta green dish washing detergent…

And a goat.

A goat that we had painted green.**

The funny thing is, I can’t even remember where we got him from (I think  he was donated from a classmate who lived on a farm)… but we sure did. We put that green goat in the middle of the high school courtyard, and then set to work silly-stringing every locker and detergent-ing every floor of that whole damn school.

Mama would be so proud.

The next day, we arrived on time for the first time in months to watch the reaction to our handiwork… and MAYHEM ENSUED. How the fuck do you clean up dish detergent, after all? WATER? Bwahahahahaha! And where, my friend, do you stash a green goat? First you have to check the Missing Goat ads, I suppose. School was shut down for two days while they tried to clean up our mess.

It was pretty damn smart for a couple of 18 year old know-it-all asshats, methinks.

We were grilled, but no one broke, and they never could prove who it was. We will be forever known as The Class of the Green Goat.

And I couldn’t be prouder. 

 

*As UD says, Robotripping: Drinking an entire bottle of Robotussin cough syrup (containg DXM), with the intention of purposely hallucinating.

**No goats were harmed in the making of this high school prank production.

Virginity Is Overrated

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Hi everyone. I’m Emma, from over at Pleasure Notes, jumping in for JP while he’s off suitable celebrating graduation. Since it’s TMI Thursday, I guess I’m jumping in with both feet and a deflated life preserver. This will most likely be the one and only time I write a TMI post anywhere. (Please note the lengths I’ll go to for JP. Hell of a guy, this one. Thanks for the invite, babe.)

I’ve worked very hard to block out each and every embarrassing moment I’ve ever had or witnessed. I blush, you see, and it’s not in the cute, flattering way – I turn the color of an overused pussy, and my face gets about as swollen too…

Which leads me to my TMI story…

LOCATION: Athens, Greece.

PLAYERS: Me, a 24-year-old virgin… Yes, I’ll pause a moment while you find your jaw and reattach it to your face. Done? Good. Now, close it. Gianni #1, a strapping, 20-something Greek man. Babs, Jan & Linda, my aiding and abetting girlfriends. Gianni #2, #3 and #4, Gianni’s friends – I swear to God, I really do think they were all called John.

BACK STORY: The girls and I were living in Prague, and suffering through the worst winter they’d had in ten years. I was about to turn 25. And, in case you missed it the first time I dropped the bomb, I was still a virgin. We’d decided to go to Greece a) to remember what the sun looked like, b) celebrate my b-day a little early and c) so Linda could see Gianni #4, with whom she’d had a passionate fling a few month earlier. Linda, when writing Gianni #4 to confirm the impending reunion, may have mentioned that she was bringing with her 3 very horny girlfriends who expected to be entertained.

EVENT: It starts on the plane ride to Athens, of course, during which the girls and I consumed 3 bottles of wine we’d purchased at the Prague duty free as gifts for Gianni #4, with whom we would be staying while in Athens.

It was cheap wine. We were poor expats. And it did the trick. We terrorized other passengers until we passed out, and awoke just in time to live through what, in the States, would be classified as a crash landing. The plane was an Aeroflot reject. The seats flopped forward with our bodies. And the pilots got a standing ovation as the plane finally decided to stop doing a Bacchanalian freestyle down the runway. Awesome.

We were still shit-faced.

We stumbled out of the airport, into glaring sunlight, where Linda and Gianni #4 immediately started a miraculous copulation-thru-Levis mash-up. Giannis #1-3 greeted our breasts, then grabbed our luggage and lead us to a Monster Truck while trying not to drown in puddles of drool or knock anything over with their woods.

How could an orgy not be minutes away?

Back at Gianni #4’s flat, and two more bottles of wine later, we’d all paired off. Babs and Jan played shy with Giannis #2 &#3. I role-played a slutty school-girl persona with Gianni #1, a very supportive fan.

This was it – I was not going to turn 25 and still be a virgin. After all, I was convinced everyone else on the planet was fucking like rabbits 24/7, and I was tired of waiting for the perfect moment. Damn John Hughes movies. Poor Gianni.

We slipped away to a bedroom. Clothes came off. Things started getting wet. All was going swimmingly. And then, just as he was about to “shatter my vessel” so to speak, I piped up to inform him – “Oh, by the way, I’m a virgin, so… you know… carry on.”

I’ve always had impeccable timing.

Gianni froze in fear, as his life and 47 babies flashed before his wasted eyes. It took 2 minutes – okay, maybe only 20 seconds – to convince him I was of sane mind and that he should really refocus on the business at hand. He obliged. We then fucked like rabbits. There was blood. The wine served as effective numbing agent. And I got what I wanted. No more virginity. Woo woo!

The next morning, I had a massive headache. And I walked awkwardly for days.

How was the sex? Aw, you already know the answer to that.

not that i’m jealous…

What’s good, kids?  f.B, here.

When the genius behind The Gospel… — JP — asked me to walk a mile in his shoes, Pressure by Lupe Fiasco was the first thing that jumped into my head.  The chorus has a line — “I’ll take the pressure off of you” — that seemed to make great guest-blogging material.

But that has nothing to do with this post.  At all, really.

So let’s get down to business…

Jealousy.

It’s a sultry, ugly hooker: we know how desperate it makes us look, but it’s so convincing.  It’s good at what it does.

Why jealousy today?  Well, like any other day, I was following Ludacris’ tweets last Thursday.  Yes, that Ludacris.  We go back like we knew each other from a while ago.   He does a daily “battle of the sexes” question and that day it was:

Apparently it’s easy to keep it within 140 characters when u dnt use rl wrdz.

But the responses?  People are crazy, kids.

Some of the best ones:
1. drive-bys to verify whereabouts
2. sniffing private parts
3. stakeouts that involve binoculars
4. “i’ve had 1 ex set my car on fire & 1 created an email address 1 letter off from my ex’s email & started writing me from it, lol”

Let’s talk about this last one for a second.  This one starts with “set my car on fire” and ends with “lol.”  Now, I don’t actually use “lol” much, so I may not have any real expertise here, but I can’t help but feel it’s out of context in that sentence.

Assuming, ma’am¹, that you weren’t in the car, that’s still a pretty felony-ig’nant² tactical maneuver.  Felony-ig’nant.  There are three types of men that set your car on fire: dudes that have been on the lam, dudes that are currently on the lam and dudes that are about to be on the lam.  And note: some guys are all three.

But you laughed it off, like the week before that you had gotten slaphappy with some kerosene yourself, like you just couldn’t wait to exhale.  So, congratulations.  I hope the two of you can find a way to reunite and have many babies that should’ve been handjobs instead.

And for those of you who’ve had people sniff your private parts…  What you meant to say is that you let them sniff your private parts.  ’Cause you didn’t wake up to a stealth crotch ‘n sniff, right?  It happened while you were awake.

him: you’ve been cheating on me.
her: what? no. i love you…
him: if you loved me, you’d let me sniff you; sniff you real good.
her: i guess it’s only fair…
him: *sniff, sniff* you slept with my brother!

You let someone sniff your crotch for evidence of recent usage.  Bravo.  You stay classy.

I, personally, would never sniff crotch for the stench of others, allow mine to be sniffed, or set an automobile ablaze.  But readers: don’t be afraid to tell us all something crazy you’ve done out of jealousy.  If it was a subversive crotch ‘n sniff attack and you’re a nether-smelling ninja, be who you are.  This is a safe zone.

_____
¹The Twitter name suggests a lady and her timeline suggested hetero. Of course, I could be wrong.
²felony-ig’nant: (fe-luh-nē - ig-nint). Ignorant enough to merit criminal charges.

Back to our regularly scheduled program

I have finally returened to the blog world after a solid 2 week party/distracton that was family, friends, work, graduation, and of course the parties. One such party went down this past Saturday and the goal was beerfest, but so many magical things happened. Let me give you the cronological (there was nothing logical here) order of what I remember:

• Woke up Saturday, fighiting off Friday night. Promptly banned the roomy #2’s girlfriend from making rum drinks.
• Rallied the troops for Beerfest and chose my horses for the race.
• Z came over, downed a Beam and water and we were off to get J.
• Around 4 roll into the Dogtrack to place bets. As we are walking I am telling the boys how classy this joint is. Walk up on a girl spraying liquid from her head, with the car running, in the drivers seat, at 4 pm, with a passenger.
• Placed Bets.
• Rolled up into the Orlando Beerfest.
• Started to drink our faces off.
• Tat showed some dudes a boob (I chose the right, it was the better one) for a cigarette.
• I proceeded to smoke her well earned cig.
• Tat and JP wander off to sell extra ticket, but get distracted by beer.
• Found out none of my horses made it. Stupid favorite.
• Found the Dogfish head tent and their hop infuser tower.
• Met up with some other friends. Watched and laughed at Tat trying to run game on the guy she showed her (singular) boob to. Felt things going down hill.
• 4 hour power session over, still standing.
• Guy that Tat was rapping with is now with us. Z and J continue to harass him and talk shit. (this continued all night)
• Hit the Alehouse with a vengeance. I was saying “Hi” to every girl walking by, no matter their status.
• Picked up a married couple, because the wife was hot and tattooed. Come to find out they lived down the street from me. Bonus, she has hot, single, tattooed friends too!
• Decided that Jack and Ginger wasn’t doing the trick. Off to Dexter’s.
• Hit Dexter’s and pick up a few new “friends”. Get new friends number. Have a drink. Bail.
• Walked over to some weird club that was upstairs. Promptly stopped by doorman. I was not allowed in because I was not “properly attired. Told him we came to spend money. I argued with him for a solid 5 minutes. Friends reminded me I was the smaller of the two involved in the argument.
• Walked to the Irish Bar. Ahh, home. Find out new friend is smart and successful. Bonus.
• End up at Spatz, minus new friend. J and Z are arguing.
• See an old friend and her roommate. Remember thinking, “for a big girl she is cute.”
• Decided big girls need lovin too. Just not tonight with JP.
• Listened to Z and J argue about not getting laid. Z accused J of being jealous. J told Z to fuck off.
• Thought my decision was horrible. I need lovin too.
• Dropped J off. Still was arguing with Z about being the only one not getting laid.
• Hit Odin’s with Z. Flirted (or slurred) with hot bartender.
• Could not finish the PBR.
• Hit up Taco Hell and got the big box meal. Laughed at the sign reading, “Eat a big box.”
• Told the cashier that $7 was the cheapest box I have ever had.
• Humor was lost on the poor girl behind the counter.
• Woke up Sunday and found cinnamon twists.
• Found out cinnamon twists get stale and suck after a few hours.
• Promised I will take it easy next weekend.
• Crawfish festival next weekend. New friends want me to go.
• Damn.

So, as you can see my departure from the blog world was not in vein. I was merely doing “research” for inspiration.I also want those in the D.C. area to know, I was totally bummed for not being able to hang out. I will be there soon. Before I go, I want to think my friends that covered me while I was gone. If you are not reading these people on the daily, you suck. So, check them out:

PQ Nation

I hate so much

Livit Luvit

Culinary Couture

Pleasure Notes

The Change I wish to see

Why you are mighty wet

Living in a sub-tropical environment you get used to 3 seasons rather than 4. In Florida, particularly Central and South Florida there is Summer, Fall, and Spring. Spring is hot coupled with an occasional rain shower. Summer is blazing hot and you can set your watch to the rain, everyday, at 4pm. Fall goes from hot to cool and typically cools down to less than 80 around November. We have about 10 days that go below 50, so there is no real winter.

However, driving in today I thought about how our Summer/rainy season is the Northern folks Winter. I always hear about wicked snow storms that take out power and hear how people can’t drive. As if they have never drove before in outdoor conditions. Yes, I realize what I just said and I am leaving it. Well snow people reading this, we have had our first heavy rain of the season. 24 hours and still going strong. Strong enough in fact, that the roof in my office building is leaking. Also, the people on the road cannot drive worth a damn. Like 5 accidents in a 1 mile stretch of road.

So, why am I going on about weather and traffic? 2 of my most hated conversation topics? Because the first rain of the season makes me smile for 2 reasons; it was the start of the surf season and a little Asian lady checked her mail at a bad time.

So I was driving down a residential street during a 3 day long rain and I see this little Asian woman, in a rain coat, checking her mail, and a huge puddle was in front of her… Don’t judge, you know you would do this too. As I watched her slowly walk down her drive way I started laughing, just a bit, because seriously when does a perfect storm like this ever come along? As she got to her mail box I rounded the corner, both right tires hit the what could be described as an asphalt lake, a tsunami esque wave peeled off the side of my car. I watched in slow motion as a 4 foot wall of water hit this poor unsuspecting Asian lady right in the face and washed over her.

Marinate on that for a moment. Asian lady, rain coat, and wall of water. I laughed. I luaged so hard in fact I almost hit the stop sign. I was laughing so hard about the facial expression and feeble attempt to dodge the wave, that seriously I though my sides would split open. Even better was where I was going on this rainy day. I was headed to my grandmothers house to check on her. Thats right ladies and gents, I hit an old lady with a wall of water on my way to see my grandmother.

So upon my arrival at my grandma’s house I was still laughing my balls off. I walk inside, still laughing mind you and see my grandma. She inquires as to why I am nearly pissing myself. I tell her very nonchalantly about the carnage I unleashed. Then, my 80 year old grandmother starts laughing so hard tears are coming from her eyes. Yes, me and my grandma laughed at the misfortune of an old lady.

This is why I like the first rainy day of the season.

The things I do for friends

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

One night my Sis, Da House, his girlfriend and I went out. Total disregard for anyone’ s health we drank our faces off. Well, the problem with this line up is that Da House’s girl was hanging out with 3 very seasoned individuals in the art of the power hour. Sure enough, 1 am rolls around and the binge session began, not that it ever really stopped mind you. We all pay up and break forth to Da House’s homestead.

Upon arrival to the honey comb hideout, Da House’s girlfriend made an ominous announcement, “I am Drunk!” I replied with something along the lines of, “glad you’ve been paying attention”. Then 5 minutes later things go a bit too quiet. You know the quiet I am talking about, where the really loud drunk just sort of disappears. Well, Da House went looking for her and was successful. My Sis and I where sitting on the couch debating about something when I hear this, “Dude, can you come to the bathroom for a minute?” I proceed to the facilities, but as I approach the door I hear this, “Dude, umm before you open the door, I just want you to know you are one of my good friends and I kind of need help with something.” Last time I heard that, things did not go well.

I slowly open the door and stick my head in, but no one was home. Look down, oh there you are, with a naked girlfriend. Hmm, what is that smell, did she, umm. What? Dude, what is that smell. Then I heard, “dude, she is really wasted and she shit herself!” Oh, hell! What a great friend, get me (guy who passes out) to deal with poo. Strong work buddy, remind me to send you an extra special x-mas card this year. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of, I called my Sis over as a witness. We pow-wow a moment and decide that she may need to go to the hospital. Da House informs me she is not quite 21 and we are all accessories to the crime at hand. Hrmmm. What would a medic do in this situation? Oh, right I’m a medic.

I did what we (medics) have done for years, I phoned a friend for supplies. While on the blower I described my dilemma and heard the following from my good friend who was the attending physician on duty that night, “Bro, you better not bring a drunk shitty girl into my ER, we will not be friends. You can pop a line in her and bring her back from the brink. Swing by and I will have things ready for you.” Done! My Sis and I did a drive by in the ambulance bay and picked up the necessary supplies and rolled back the the honey comb hide out.

By the time we got back Da House cleaned her up and got her to bed. I explained the situation and what needed to be done to avoid any unnecessary charges to his credit card via the ER. Plus, I told him what my buddy said, he laughed. So, time to play capt’n save-a-hoe and pop in an I.V. I explain to her that she should not move while I shove a garden hose into her vein, she agreed and said that she needed it. I.V. successfully placed, threats of death would precede any movement on her part. When a liter was pumped in, her color had returned and she said she felt way better.

Next day, follow up phone call to Da House:

Me- Everything cool?

DH- Yeah, actually she was up and making me breakfast. Hell I should have had an I.V.

Me- Does she remember the unpleasantness?

DH- Nope. Says she never felt the I.V.

Me- No, the unpleasantness of her shitting herself?

DH- No, but she will when I make her clean the bathroom this morning, lol!

Me- Nice. You owe me one.

That was the time I saw my friends girlfriend naked and covered in her own shit, while being the good guy and saving them a trip to the ER.

How could you do this to me?

Dear Hollywood,

I have a serious issue with your recent bout of laziness. You have taken my beloved cartoons, super hero’s, and comic characters from the 80’s and made them into film. I admit, you have done a few good things with the films but others, not so much. Let’s look at some good things you’ve done: Iron Man, Transformers, X-Men, and most recently Star Trek. But, there is some down side to your non-existent creative license.

Now, think about this, there has been copy catting going on for quite some time. Look how the Power Rangers ripped off Voltron; this was strike one. Then came the endless Spider man series, yes it was cool at first, then it killed itself with a love story. This is where I really noticed the trend of the re-make sequels. Where is the originality? The spice of life that is not previously based off a book, earlier movie, or cartoon/show?

You may be thinking, JP what in the world are you going on about? Well folks, I was at the movies the other day watching Star Trek (decent enough) and I saw the following preview for G.I. Joe, my American childhood hero:

What the hell? Bionic suits? Where the hell did the real hero’s go? Why did Hollywood rape G.I. Joe? Did the maker of the Crystal Skull get another job? Seriously! This is the G.I. Joe I remember:

Hollywood, the He-Man movie “Masters of the Universe” circa 1987 with Dolph Lundgren, does that ring a bell? Everyone should have learned a cinematic lesson from that abomination. For those that forgot:

Oh, did I mention that a new He-Man movie is set to come out in 2010? Yea.

So, could everyone with a camera just stop! Stop your non-sense. Be creative or at least do it old school and get totally bombed and just come up with anything. It would most certainly be better than this bullshit you call a movie. Also, before I forget, I swear to Baby-Jesus, if you screw around with the Thundercats, I will personally kick everyone in the credits, squarely in the balls!

Stop and desist,

JP

My little man

Yesterday a fellow blogger and all around right on guy, Bksurviving , Tweeted the following: “Hey @SI_PeterKing, you realize that pits must be trained to attack, right? That can happen to any dog. Way to keep a stereotype alive idiot.” I fully support Bksurviving saying this. It stemmed from this comment from SI_PeterKing in defense from other comments made by LeeHaiku:

“Here’s the only point I made: Why have any dog trained to attack people in the same area as people you don’t want the dog to attack… My final words on pit bulls, in 3 Tweets: What I wrote was I laugh when I hear pit bulls are no more harmful than any other dog, and I don’t understand why families with kids use them as guard dogs or pets. That’s it. It’s not a Vick issue. It’s a common sense issue. They’re involved in more attacks than other breeds. If you have a child in close proximity to a pit bull trained to attack, it’s not smart.”

Now, my personal feeling against Michael Vick is he should be treated equally; as in the way he treated those poor defenseless animals. Now, I am not a huggy, happy, hippy dude. I hunt and fish, I grew up on a farm and that’s how life is. I, we (my family) abhor the mistreatment of animals. This case is particularly disturbing to me as I have a little boy that is close to my heart. In fact I raised him since he was first born during the wicked horrible hurricanes of 2005. I am talking about my little man: WINSTON.

He is an English BullDogge and Black German Sheppard mix. He is an all around badass!

Look out, he’s a killer… A lady killer!

So what if he is a 100 pounds of teeth and muscle, he just wants his bone.

He is chill as a pussy cat! In fact he love da Kittehs!

In fact his favorite spot is chilling on the couch.

He just wants to ham it up.

This is my baby boy Winston. So, Michael Vick or even Peter King from Sports Illustrated, come talk shit on my dog. I dare you! Vick, you would be subject to the Texas trespassing rule and Mr. King, you may need to be smacked around with your own magazine if you feel these type of animals are dangerous. Just like with guns, its not the gun it is always the human behind it.

Stepping out of the box

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Usually I have an embarrassing story about my self or others and it generally makes for good TMI. Well, today I am stepping out of my comfort zone a bit and I have brought some old pictures to the party. Nothing truly bad, but I am bringing the long hair pictures to life or at least the ones I had laying around the house. Enjoy:

and a little further back…

Wait for it…

And for the final blow…. 6th grade skater hair!

Chillin in the LBC

Hey guys,

Sorry for the long absence! I have been getting nailed with no lube at work and lets just say, I didn’t even get a kiss afterwards. So, with that said, my team is in the Playoff’s tonight and we should all wish them luck… GO MAGIC. They are playing out in L.A. so I decided I should drop in on the LBC and hit on the beautiful Lbluca! Today we are talking our favorite subject… BEER!

So, drop by and check her sexy ass out, I know I will.

A good ‘ol weekend top 10

Ladies and gentlemen a short and sweet top 10 of what rocked my weekend:

1. “The Hangover” this movie kicked total ass. Best of the Summer yet.
2. Sleep. I finally slept in on Saturday for the first time in weeks.
3. The small squall outside on Saturday that helped keep me in bed and away from doing things.
4. Russian Standard Vodka, is pure bliss. I am not a vodka guy, but we were drinking it straight with Ice and a lemon. Nectar!
5. The movie “7 Pounds.” I have to admit I got a bit choked up and shed a tear. Strong work.
6. My Dog Winston. He is such a badass. We laid around all weekend and went to the park. He is very mellow and my little boy.
7. Winning $2 off a scratch off ticket.
8. Being reminded that my feelings for someone still have not faded.
9. Not being bothered by anyone. It is a nice change of pace.
10. Submitted another 50 applications, hopefully something will stick this time.

Old Skool

I am relatively young, as told by the cougars readers that stalk me on the daily; I love you all ladies. However, this week I am feeling a bit more off than normal. My 10 year high school reunion is this weekend and truly I didn’t think I would still be here. Not in the metaphysical sense but in the, my apartment in DC is missing me, sense. Why am I put off on the idea of a 10 year reunion? Because I never really was a high school kind of guy. The majority of people peaked in high school, some in college, and me, well I am still growing. I don’t really think I will “peak.”

In high school I was cool with everyone and had no problem with the ladies. In fact I was always out surfing or skating, because lets face it, being a white boy with long hair in the hood can be slightly uncomfortable. It was mellow. The core group of friends I had in high school i.e. our mini-gang of surf vandals, still hang out to this day. In fact one is my current roommate. I had no real need to socialize with “the cool kids.” I couldn’t care less what was going on around me as long as I had my board and a way to the beach. My other friends went to a completely different school and was located in suburbia, not the hood.

So, a really close friend, like I have known her since kindergarten, told me I had no excuses and I have to go. I believe her exact words were “I am coming in from Spain, I think you can make it!” I really do not want to go. I probably do not have anything in common with these people. Why? Because we didn’t have anything in common when we all went to school together as is. If I do go do i bring a date? If so, who in their right mind would want to endure this pain with me? What if I run into a few certain ex-girlfriends, who may or may not still hate me? What happens if in true fashion, I get totally bombed? My “wing-man” doesn’t speak much English and my Spanish is not all that good either. I mean he is an awesome guy, but these are the scenario’s you have to rehearse.

The real question is what if all the above is complete and utter bull-shit. That the last few paragraphs are me just highlighting my insecurities. The fact I have been stagnant has been bothering me, maybe this is just a way of realizing it. I am sure that I will be my charming and debonair self, as usual. Maybe, I will have another “chance” encounter with an old flame? Ha!

I am just not comfortable with this whole idea. Seriously, I have always been the guy that said 10 year reunions were for suckers. Now, I am that sucker. I am going to need a lot of vodka for this one!

This is why I am not a people person

This is what I would like to email someone in my office today:

I have a few comments to make about the time-line that was crafted. In fact I have a few general comments to make about things that have been troubling me.

1) Yes, as a team, corporate wide, we worked on this. However, I am the one that invested 4 days, again 4 days in pulling the resources together. Then distributed it to the sources and asked for their input. So, we did work on it, the entire department. However, it is best to recognize that it took me 4 days to accomplish it. When giving it to you (this morning) I was received with negative comments. Then, I was accosted by you making sure we were all recognized in this. This was not an individual credit issue, nor was it anything other than providing a detailed report to a guy that likes details. Your approach has greatly upset me.

2) Recent comments have been directed my way and I have held my tongue; however, today has brought these items to a head. In fact this morning a comment was made about “ritalin” because I wanted to get the time-line done. As someone who has ADD, this is highly offensive. In fact it would be the equivalent of me insinuating that you need lithium carbonate. Further more, the comment the other day about my hand writing the other day, was completely out of line. I know my writing is not the best and is something i just have to live with. Thats what you get for having many hand injuries and a shattered elbow as a kid learning how to write. Please keep your comments in check.

3) The daily tantrums I over hear have also gotten to me. Whether you are writing an email or just getting off the phone, you make very negative comments. The persistent outbursts make the work environment a very negative place to be and quite frankly, I am over it. Please keep your negative comments to yourself.

4) Over all your abrasive and in-flexible attitude make it very difficult to work with you. Might I suggest a more “grey” approach to things, as in our department, as you very well know, nothing is “black and white,” nor will it ever be.

5) Now that I have politely addressed these issues I would like to say one last thing. Just because I sit here and do not respond to your non-sense, it doesn’t mean that I will not react. Your unprofessional behavior will not be placed on my shoulders. In fact, step out of line again and I will bring the ruckus. Just because I wear a shirt and tie and “conform” to those that sign my check, does not mean that their isn’t a tattooed, crazy, slightly unstable mick lurking beneath. I will destroy you. Remember you need a job so you can pay for your wedding; I am looking for an excuse to get out of town. I highly suggest not giving me one.

In conclusion, I leave you with these parting words. Go fuck yourself you crazy-ass bitch. Do not fuck with me, cause my vindictive nature is truly embraced as I really do enjoy retribution. This retribution will come out in way you would never expect. Then, just for shits and giggles, I will write about it for the world to see.

Thank you for your time and attention to these matters.

Cooler than a Freddy Jackson sipping a milkshake in a snow storm,
JP

Fun with a Bedazzler

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

The other day Roomy #1 comes home from hanging out with the girls and making her new boyfriend a gift. So, the question of the day is, what do you get a guy that lives a solid 4 hour plane ride away for his birthday? Cologne, a jersey, new set of golf clubs? Nope. You break out bedazzler and create a gift that keeps on giving:

Bedazzled Underoos

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, you bedazzle his name on a pair of thongs! I seriously had 2 thoughts. First, wow. Really? Second, so you are telling me basically you are gift wrapping your pussy for his birthday. Now in most normal conversations it would have stopped there, but in our house the fun had just begun. Because she showed me the back of said underoos:

Backdoor action

Yes, that is a bedazzled heart on the back of the thong. So, in theory, the only thing visible is this heart and the top strap, as we know the rest gets, um, lost in the abyss.

Now, I really didn’t give too much commentary at first, but then we were at the bar watching the Magic finally posting a win. I was out with Roomy #1 and the Ex, when the Ex leaned over and said, “did roomy #1 tell you we went to the sex toy mega-mart?” Me, “no she did not mention that you went too.” I was slowly thinking to myself, that I was glad I ended up not going. Well, the Ex then says, “did you see the gift she made for the new guy?” The flood gates were know open. The following are some comments I made about the bedazzled thong:

• Personalized gift wrapped pussy! There is no greater gift.
• You can unwrap this gift in so many ways. Slow, fast, with you teeth, hell you can even pull the wrapper a side and peek in.
• Putting his name on it is saying he now basically owns your nether region. “But do you have a flag?”
• Instead of a heart  you should have bedazzled an arrow pointing down.
• Even better, attach one of those flashing arrows people have on their bikes, that way he knows where to go in the dark!
• No, no, no, better yet, leave the heart in the front and have an arrow in the back. Then you can avoid the entire “cool with the back-door” conversation. If that’s how you want to roll.
• Who uses a bedazzler? I mean I know Mr. T is trying to make a come back, but that doesn’t mean everything from the 80’s is cool again. However, strong work on the strategic use of  the 80’s.
• Lol, are you going to let him keep these as a souvenir? HA!

I am not kidding you when I say this went on for ages. In fact sitting and writing this I have come up with a few more. But I will save it for the golf course when I take the new guys money and harass him about this. Although it did get me thinking. This is kind of like a mail order bride in concept. She is flying to him, to give on his birthday, a gift that theoretically keeps on giving. Or at least until it gives out.

Enjoy the rest of your TMI Thursday kids!

Be a man!

Lately I have noticed that we as men, are no longer men. I mean this in the most traditional reflection of what a man should be. Example:

If you wear these, you are not a man!

Taken from Hot Topic

Seriously, how do your balls get oxygen? Oh, yea skinny jeans= no balls.

If you look like these knuckle heads, you are not a man:

What not to do if you want to be a man

Or

Does he live in NJ?

Or

What is NOT wrong with this?

And

If your hair cost more than your girl, you are gay!

I am sure by this point you are thinking, “what the hell is JP going on about now?” Simply put, these douche bags above were “competing” on a show called Daisy of Love. They were trying to “earn” the love this seriously crazy and hot broad’s “love”:

I really like 'em crazy!

So how did I come across this abortion? Umm, did you see the pic above, she’s hot and totally insane! Me=Total sucker. So, I started watching this show and my immediate thought was that men these days, do not know how to be men.

Think about this, in the 1930’s and 1940’s men had 2 roles provide and protect their (insert wife, home, booze) what ever. Their duty was to, well, be men. They are called the greatest generation because they went to war, defeated everyone, then took over the world. I vaguely remember someone else trying that too…

I would file this as #failedatlife

Again, the skinny jeans, goofy ass hair cuts and really, really flamboyant clothing is just not working for the men of America. I mean, how can any country take us seriously with the clowns dressed up like the picture above? I remember my Grandfather telling me about gin joints, chasin’ skirts, and of course working hard and making a living. Look at man now. We no longer work outside, our farming industry is in the dumps, and obesity is our worse enemy.

When did we as American men become such pussies? Now, I am speaking in an overture; fire fighters, military, and hard working guys all around are our only saving grace.* Now, we sit on our asses and stare at computer screens all day. How did this happen? For god sakes, men used to carry flasks of gin and wear hats with their suits. They knew how to fix their (insert anything you touch) with the most basic of tools. Men never needed to “work out” in a gym, the day’s labor took care of all of that.

Recently speaking with a good friend, I realized that we, as men, are not meant to be kept indoors. The glass prisons of the corporate world are oppressing us. Seriously, when was the last time you guys out there went hunting for your own food? In fact when was the last time you grew your own food, or even cooked it? Let’s face it we are weak. What happens if the “big” day (nuclear Holocaust, 4 horsemen) of ruin comes upon us, would you be ready? Could you survive?

Face it, we are weak and have no class or style. When was the last time you opened the car door or any door for a woman? Stood up for someone that could not stand on their own? Or just do something that moves you.

Guy’s I am not breaking balls here, all I am trying to do is point out that yes we “evolved” but into what. The moniker of Gentleman was once used to represent one who embodied man. Seriously, I cannot remember the last time I heard that word used. So, this is my appeal for men everywhere to reclaim their manhood and “devolve” a bit. Go back to treating women like ladies, drinking from a flask, and get into an unapologetic fist fight with your buddies, just because he pissed you off.

Get out and be a man! Blast some Skynard, drink from a can, and grill an animal you killed yourself. Then for the coup de grace find the hottest broad in the joint and take ‘er home.

P.S. Ladies, this was purely targeted at the guys today. I have one for you in a few days.

*Please note Cops are not on this list.

WRW Edition of TMI Thursday

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Today’s post is sponsered by procrasination. I was out with my best friend last night and had no time to write out the one I wanted to do. That, and work is still kicking my ass. So I had an idea to blend 2 of my favorite posting days into one; TMIT and WRW. Plus, I seem to have a lot of phantom readers.

So, if you read this today, no matter if you are a seasoned vet or not, drop a comment. I very curious to see who is out there.

Without further interruption, I bring you the Gospel of JP’s Would you Rather fetish edition*:

Receive oral from an 80 y/o sans teeth?

or

Receive a golden shower from a crack head?

Enjoy kids!

*Please note this author has tried neither items listed above.

Good times

I just had a solid weekend. No real non-sense, in fact no non-sense at all. It was peaceful and reflective. Here is the top 10 highlights of this past weekend:

1. Friday night I changed my spark plugs and brakes on my car. Now, I know this does seem like a fun thing to most, but it was nice to get lost in a project.
2. Went swimming with my dog. He loves the water, the little psycho.
3. Watched disc 1 and 2 of HBO’s True Blood season 1, as recommended by LiLu.I am now hooked.
4. Boxed up more of my stuff in preparation of my “cannot happen fast enough” move.
5. Talked with my sister for an hour discussing a variety of issues, such as the upcoming Northern VA Beerfest. I may even be there, if a certain phone call goes well today.
6. I made a killer pot roast (while listening to Wu-Tang Clan); which I will eat the rest of the week. I love left overs.
7. Caught up on sleep. (this should be at the top, but there is no real order here.
8. Went to Sat. 5 o’clock mass. I had to laugh at the little old Hispanic lady that starred at my tattoos and refused to shake my hand as I said, “peace be with you.” #failedatchurch
9. Got a random phone call from Australia and a text form Maryland. I love random communication from beautiful girls. You know who you are!
10. For once I actually looked forward to a Monday, or at least the start of the work week.

Well, off to do offical type things. Enjoy your day!

Postponed

Today I had a really great rant about how DC does not love me, as much as I love her. However, in light of the Red line accident last night, I have decided to postpone this post until tomorrow. I hope all my friends and their family are safe. Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers. See ya tomorrow.

JP

P.S. If you want to laugh at a douchebag, check out Moog’s contest over at Mental Poo. I receive honorable mention, because I am awesome!

Going Down The Hard Road

Dear District of Columbia,

Lately, I have noticed that you are not showing me the kind of love and respect I have been throwing your way. I have been trying to hold you close to my heart, but just like every relationship I have had, you keep breaking it. I love everything about you from your tattooed walls, to you public transportation system. Lets be honest, I drive an hour and half, round trip, everyday. I ride on your Metro system and you get me where I want to go. I can walk your streets; this is no meager task. I cannot walk to anywhere, where I am right now. I love many aspects of your life, culture, and symbolism. I am a Washingtonian to the core. I wave my flag proudly.  Yet, sadly, you continue to crush my very soul. All I want to do is work and play with you. Though, you prevent me from this. Why am I so downtrodden with the current state of affairs? Papa needs a job and you are simply keeping your proverbial legs closed.

Recently, I received an email, from a potential employer (PE) and this is how it went down:

PE: Good afternoon JP, Thank you for your interest in our position of Program Coordinator at a really kick ass place, that doesn’t really pay well, but the benefits rock. If you are still interested, we’d like to set up an interview for you here at the kick ass place. Please let me know of your interest and availability over the next 10 days. I can be reached via e-mail or telephone. I look forward to hearing from you.

JP: Good Morning PE, Thank you for contacting me, as I am still very interested in the Program Coordinator at a kick ass place. My 10 day availability  to come up and meet with you, would be on Friday June 26th or any time during the span of July 1st-3rd. Please feel free to ring me at 1-800-JP SEX U UP to discuss our possible appointment. Thank you for your time, JP.

PE: Hi JP,Where are you located? We couldn’t determine that from your resume. You have a local address, but it looks as though your current employment is in a swamp or the Tropics.

JP: Hi PE, I am currently in the swamp lands at the corporate offices that resemble the following. My other office is located on a really long beach in the tropics, which I have just returned from. My D.C. address I have had and have been paying for since August 2008; I am very eager to relocate to D.C. and remain.

PE: Hi J (she shortened my name), Thank you for following up. Right now we are focusing on local candidates only. Do you plan to relocate permanently to the area or is that dependent on a new position?

JP: PE, My intention is for permanent relocation to the D.C./Northern VA. area. I have already established a residence, but cannot move until I obtain employment in the area. It has been quite challenging doing so. In fact, half of my belongings are already in my apartment in D.C. If you would like, we could have a phone conversation to discuss my situation. I would love to have the opportunity to join the kick ass team. Thank you, JP

As you can see, I have had a difficult time with this institution. So, I called my Sister and told her the above story. She promptly reminded me of my Starbucks dating policy. Let me splain, if you just start dating someone, take them to Starbucks and listen to what they order. The more complex and convoluted, the bigger pain in the ass they will be in the long run. This applies to the potential employers as well, let me splain.

I originally called and left a message, she never called back. Drop a follow up email, instant response. I get it, you are not a phone person. I get the silly emails about not being a local yokel and decide I needed to splain my situation. Ah, *67 works and I get her on the phone. So, Stone Wall Jackson gets on the phone and tells me, “Only local applicants at this time.” Thanks. This reminded me of the local surf spot I grew up at, where a strict locals only policy was in place.

So, lets recap for a minute. I am cheap and easy. I can have my ass and my things up in the Metro area in 2 weeks, flat! Seriously, my salary requirement, is a min of $42,000. Hell, there are members of congress that spend more than that a year on coke and whores; hell even more than that! I am self directed, hard working, and I really could care less what you have me do.

All I am saying is embrace me as I have embraced you and I will do my best not to burn the place down.

Thank you for your time,

JP

P.S. Even though I am kind of complaining, just getting the email back, knowing someone saw potential, really made my day. Now, please enjoy as the  Hilltop Hoods explain how I feel:

Dating Effectively

Lexa from Culinary Couture guest posted for me a bit ago titled The Problem is You! She had sound advice, as I am sure we all have broken at least 2 of her outlined don’ts. So, how does one advance in the dating realm, effectively? Simple! Dating is a war with multiple battles to win, depending on your objective. Observe.

Preparing for Battle:

1. What is you ideal age range and within 5 years and be reasonable. Are you hunting kitty kat’s (20’s), Puma’s (30’s), or Cougars (40+)?
2. What activities should your future partner be interested in? This means things you can do together.
3. What would they look like? (Best case scenario) Again, be reasonable. Look at yourself first.
4. What are you really looking for? Boy/Girl Friend, husband/wife, ego boost, walk of shame?
5. What qualities do they possess? (Personality wise)
6. What are your deal breakers? THIS IS A NO BUDGE AREA!
7. What are your best assets?

The Assault

1. Flirtation- Spot your target and initiate contact, in a non-stalker way. Yea, I see you. Be charming, brief, and sociably approachable. You will know within 5 minutes if you are going to sleep with that person, so this should occur naturally.
2. Negotiation- A complicated Kabuki dance of exchanging contact information. Phone number or personal email address. Twitter and Facebook are not acceptable forms of communication, but an acceptable way of doing a “background check”. A traditional 24 to 72 hours of silence is customary, then you drop the hammer and rock out. Plan your assault for a Tuesday if possible. This way you avoid being associated with a bad Monday and you are still early enough in the week to beat the friends out for their time. Be very clear that this is a date! You do not need more friends.
3. Interaction- Welcome to the big show! The key to this is to smell good, lose your self in the moment, be confident and look interested; but not anxious or desperate. This is the most important kind of interview you could go to, I mean depending on your goals, you are possibly looking for a life partner. The initial interview is critical. Why not take a refreshing approach to this and break taboo’s. During this time you should ask about past relationships and why they didn’t work, history does repeat itself. Ask about ambitions. Discuss life goals. Housing situations. Education obtained. What kind of work are they in*. The goal at the end of the date is to know if you are compatible.

Pre-Date, Pre-Game:

• Clothing- Do you have your sexy thong on? Does it flatter your strong points and hide your weak points? Are you dressed to handle the date?
• Funding- Have you properly budgeted for this outing. Take dinner for example: if you go to a decent place you are looking at $30 a person for the main course only. This does not include cocktails while waiting for a seat, an aperitif drink, appetizer, dessert, and a digestif drink. Tip like you are a rock star and let them see you do it. If you are a scrooge on the tip, it says you are a deadbeat now and will always be. Then, you go and do what you had planned. Always take cash with you. I can’t tell you how many times I have been caught by the “we  don’t take cards” at a place. It is embarrassing to both you and your date and make you look unprepared.
• Transportation- Is your car as clean and good smelling as you? Full tank of gas? Do you know where you are going? What kind of music is loaded in the deck, will it fit the mood for the ride to where ever you are going?
• Hygiene- Showered, smooth, and hair did? Is your grill gleaming? Do you have mints?
• Availability- Have you cleared your calendar? Told your friends you will be out? Have you lined up the “bail out text” which should be scheduled for 45 minutes within the first point of contact? Is your ringer set to silent?
• Housing- Is your place clean? Are your roommates (parents) gone? Have you cleared all incriminating evidence such as the midget stripper porn? Are you sheets freshly washed?

If the items above are followed, as simple as it seems, your dating life can be successful! Lets face people are whacked and so are you. If you have a game plan and stick to it, it can reduce the non-sense and allow for a more memorable and pleasurable time. If you do follow this plan, please email me with your results. Cheers and happy hunting.

*Never open a conversation with “what do you do?” It is offensive because you are implying that what a person does for a living, defines them. I always respond your mom, but thats just me.

Chill weekend

Beside from the girl at Starbucks that could not process my order (medium bold coffee), I am coming off a great weekend that was very low key. Here are a few happenings that made it rock:

• My weekend kicked off Friday, when I received several text messages from various bloggers around the country. These lovely Ladies sent photo of their lovely ladies…. I clearly made out like a bandit! BTW, to those who sent me boob shots*, you are awesome!**
• Watched Taken with Liam Neeson. Bad. Ass. Flick!
• Went out with my buddy Jimmy Jamz. Ran into a girl whose friend I may or may not have hooked up with. This girl (bigger than me) comes up to me and is all, “I let you hook up with my friend, you could at least buy me a beer.” Me: Umm, fine if that s what it will take for you to leave me alone, I will get you a beer.” Me to the bartender, “give her one of those dollar PBR’s to shut her up.” Later, same girl comes up to me and says, “Why didn’t you try to fuck me? Well, it doesn’t matter I am not like that anyways.” Me: “Ahh ummm, wha? Yea, I am just a whore.” Later same girl, traps me by the bathroom and tries pulling me into the girls bathroom. It was like wrestling a rhino! Seriously, I was struggling to save myself from this broad. I then decided it was time to break north with no delay.
• BWP emailed me some porn, chock full of hot tattooed chicks. I love that girl!
• I received this message on Sunday from Jimmy Jamz: “I didn’t think I had that much to drink, but there are some gaps in my memory and I woke up with the worst hangover ever. I remember being ticked off that Asian broad didn’t pay me any attention and that ex-girlfriend was talking shit about me, then I’m waking up the next morning.” I thought we were pretty mellow about things…. Guess not. Ha!
• Talk with my friends Down Under and caught up with them while I was getting 3 am fish tacos from Del Taco. Damn those are so good.
• Saturday my alarm failed me. Woke up at 12:30. It was glorious.
• Watched the movie Notorious and texted how that slinging crack looked like an awesome job, until he got arrested. She was confused by my statement.
• Went shopping and spent $75 at the grocery store. Shitty part was no food was purchased. I did have an in-depth conversation with my cousin who is getting married. It was good catching up with him.
• Get a call from my Sister who went to the NOVA Beerfest. Rubbed it in that I was not there and told me how they had a great time. Sis, if you are reading this, you suck. I love you. Oh, she did say she got new pin-up posters for the apt. Surf art and women is our motif. Awesome.
• Racked up many hours on Medal of Honor World at War for the ol’ XBOX. No better way to waste time in my opinion.
• Laid low Sunday and did some shopping. Prepared sone veg for a pot roast in the next few days, which I will be posting the recipe for.
• It is casual week at work and I have Friday off. So far, things are looking up.

*Please feel free to send any and all boob shots to justjpblog (dot) gmail (dot) com.

**The blogger’s names will be withheld from public record.

Downer Dude

Much like the dreaded Debbie Downer, Downer Dude may bring the general mood of things down a few notches, but things need to be said. The other day I was reading an awesome post by Franco Beans about the Michael Jackson death and the world-wide mourning process. F.B. said, “If you don’t get it, you don’t get it.  There are a lot of people who don’t and I understand that.” I agree with him, because I am one who does not understand.

I come from a very different perspective than most, in fact my outlook is a very “gallows humor” approach. I have been trained to be detached from death and very often laugh at it, because if you don’t it will take you down. The day MJ died, I received several text messages from people who know me extremely well, such as my Sister. The messages read, “Did you hear Michael Jackson is dead?” Me, “Why do I care about the death of an alleged pedophile?” Now, this could be perceived as a hostile statement, but what I was really trying to say is everyone dies and your status is no different. I realize he was acquitted, but I still will never let it go. Any grown man that slept in a bed with other peoples kid’s is suspect.

Why did I fixate on this accusation? Because the only thing that gallows humor cannot protect you from is the death of a child. Unfortunately, I have seen and have been greatly affected by the many tragic deaths of kids; one huge contributing factor of me leaving the trauma center, as it was starting to really affect me in a very negative way. I have pumped on the chest of a 23 y/o male who was struck by lightening, and many, many teenage car accident victims, without flinching. The whole time cracking jokes. A 2 y/o that drowned or was accidentally smothered in their sleep? That will absolutely wreck you.

So why can I differentiate between child death and other death? Simple, it has to do with your innocence value system. At what realistic point do you consider innocence lost? Is their a definable cut-off? The answer for me is yes. When one can make and be held responsible for their actions. My line is around 14 or 15  when the desensitization sets in for me. How does this tie in with MJ? Simple, anyone who challenges the innocence of the defenseless, in my opinion, deserves what they get, regardless of their “iconic status,” because at this point, in my opinion, they are irreputable scum. This does not just apply to children, Michael Vick and those defenseless dogs, had me off the reservation angry. All because they couldn’t fend for themselves.

The second issue I have is the general public and the media that feeds their frenzy. Seriously people, MJ was your life? You are lost without him? When was the last time you two hung out and broke bread, aside from that Halloween in the Hills, where everyone was dressed like him? This is not something new. I remember when Kurt Cobain offed himself and they had a suicide hot-line open for his fans that could not cope with the loss of Kurt. Bradley Nowell, Pac, Biggie and many others have had similar demise followings. I. Don’t. Get. This. At. All.

I will mourn my family, friends, and those who lost their lives through no fault of their own. Military, Fire-fighters, and to lesser extent Police Officers, who are out their trying to retain innocence will get my respect and admiration. Hell, I have told my friends and family if they get cremated, I would incorporate their ashes into tattoo ink, so I can carry them with me forever. I am not completely soulless, just very detached. This is why when I watch the news and see people melting down over someone they never met or had a symbiotic relationship with, I don’t get it. I know music and entertainment is fully incorporated into our lives something fierce; however, it doesn’t mean it IS our life.

Yes, everyone should mourn the dead in their own way. Mourning a death, tragic or not, of someone you do not know, I can dig it. Though, if you are on t.v. telling everyone “you will be lost without him” or “he was my life” I am fairly sure you are a candidate for a restraining order at some point in your life. Seriously, the last time we heard from the man was 2001 with his release of Invincible, which is kind of ironic.

This entire post has the intentional tone and hue of cynicism for a reason; that’s just the way I am. My distanced approach to things of this matter, have cost me many things such as sleep, relationships, and the faith that people are genuinely good without question. I agree 100% with Franco Beans, that this man did things for entire groups of people that no one can fathom and I will not take that from him. In fact MTV, Hip-Hop, and various forms of other entertainment just would not exist; though racial boundaries still might.

I guess my conclusion of a somewhat cohesive post would have to be, that I just don’t get or understand people on such a base level. Either my experiences have stolen that from me or they protect me from such connection. I have never understood why people still dress up and believe Elvis is god, nor have I understood an obsessive fan that cries out that they are lost without said person. In my mind, to cherish a performer, or to revert back to the image you have of them, it is far easier to listen to their music and or watch them on film. This would allow one to revert back to the period in time when they were on their game.

Yes, we should remember them for their good, but never forget their bad.

Gettin’ down in the kitchen with JP

Bonerific!

Yes,  I said Bonerific because my blog, my rules. Moving on… “Trapped in the cockpit at forty thousand feet/the sky is the limit but we supersede/the greed for the speed is like way beyond limits/I grab my parachute with like/forks and spoons in it/and I’m falling/I’m falling/my heart rapid rushes/death before my eyes/oh why did I trust this/my reactions are repeated/over and over/and over/oh it seems like I will never be sober.” (Pharcyde)

We are talking Pot Roast today at The Gospel. Yes, that honkiest of honky meals, but boy is it good. The problem is it takes some time and if you are like me (poor you), then you don’t want to mess with it. But… Damn the stuff is sooo good. I am hear today to tell you and illustrate step by step how to trow down on a bad-ass pot roast with mash potatoes and gravy, that feeds 6 hungry adults or 6 separate meals for the week.

How to start the Pot Roast:

Step 1: Poor a drink

Russian Standard Vodka

I recommend the Russian Standard Vodka, on the rocks, with one slice of lemon. Great way to kick things off.

Step 2: Chop the following vegetables

• Carrots 1 small bag
• Celery 1 stalk
• Onion 2 medium coarsely chopped
• Garlic 3 entire bulbs minced
• Red bell pepper (optional)
• Green Bell Pepper (optional)

I didn’t have much time so I prepared all my veggies in advance. Plus, I have a vacuum sealer so it makes life easier. You can throw all these in a zip-lock bag.

Step 3: Get your meat ready (that’s what she said)

I see you starring at my big hunk of meat

I recommend using a 5 lb cut of shoulder. Most of the time the package will say “pot roast” on the outside. Too easy, all you have to do is remove the wrapper and that’s it. Do not trim the fat off this, it needs to melt into the dish. This is very important and where a lot of the flavor will come from.

Step 4: Put your meat and veggies in a crock-pot in the morning.

Annie Leibovitz eat your heart out.

Step 5: Sprinkle your season packet over the meat and veggies. Then add 3 cups of water. Set the crock-pot on low and allow to cook for 8 hours. 

It’s not cheating if it works.

Now after you have let 8 hours pass, I like to set this up before I go to work in the morning, take the meat out and place on a cutting board. It should fall apart as you are taking it out.

Then, remove as many vegetables from the crock as possible, placing them in a bowl.

Lifts and Separates

You will then have just the juice from the crock left which need to be saved for later. I like to put it in a pitcher for easier use when needed. (careful very hot!) It is okay if a few stray veggies are in the juice.

Once the juice has been removed from the crock, place the shredded meat and veggies back in the crock and cover. It should still be on low at this point.

How to get your mash potatoes going:

Step 1: Now that you have the juices set aside and the meat and veggies back together, get a large pot half full of salted water. Bring to a rolling boil and add your potatoes.

Small bag of red potatoes

Step 2: Boil your small bag of red potatoes for 35 minutes. Then remove, drain, and put in a large bowl for mashing.

Mash dem taters

Step 3 While mashing add:

• 1 tsp of salt
• 1 tsp of pepper
• 4 table spoons of butter
• 1/2 cup of milk
• Mash and blend until semi-smooth, depending on how you like your mashed potatoes.
• Personally, after the initial mash I throw it all into the stand mixer set on 3 for a few minutes until creamy.

Whip up some gravy:

• Heat in a medium size pot, 2 teaspoons of bacon grease or duck fat. If you do not have either, 2 tablespoons of margarine will work.
• Allow to get hot, but not burnt.
• Add 3 tablespoons of all purpose flour to the pot and allow to slightly brown or achieve a rust color.
• Once flour color is achieved, add what should be about 4 cups of left over juices from the crock-pot, one cup at a time, whisking vigorously.
• At this point set your pot to simmer (2 on the dial) and allow to thicken for 10 minutes, whisking every 2 minutes.
• If your gravy is still too thin, add a pinch or two of flour. Be sure to whisk thoroughly.

Whip that gravy's ass!

Once you have your roast set, mash, and gravy is all set up throw it on a plate and get down to business

Oh yea, I see you drooling!

Oh, lets not forget dessert! Berries are in season and nothing is better then berries and whip cream. Well, nothing better then berries with whip cream and  little chocolate sauce!

Very good.

So, to recap, here is your shopping list in order to make this dish:

1. 1 bottle Russian Standard Vodka
2. a few lemons
3. Ice
4. 5 lbs of shoulder roast beef (pot roast)
5. 1 package of McCormick (or generic) pot roast seasoning
6. 2 medium onions
7. 1 small bag of carrots
8. 3 garlic bulbs
9. 1 celery stalk
10. 1 small bag of red (creamer) potatoes
11. any other veggies you want to add
12. 1/2 cup of milk
13. Bacon grease/duck fart fat/margarine
14. all purpose flour
15. Berries
16. Hershey’s chocolate syrup
17. Cool-Whhhip

The Gospel’s 100th Anniversary

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Today is my 100th post here at the Gospel and just like when it started, I still have no clue what I am doing with it. I feel my writing is sub-par, yet I keep attracting readers. Upon reflection of 100 various posts I still don’t have a cohesive thesis or outline for this blog. What I realized is there probably never will be. I will never have a great theme blog and I am fine with this.

So how does one celebrate the 100th? By refelcting on the author’s top 3 posts or the 3 that sucked the least. Anyways, if you are new or have been down with deathrow from day one, thank you coming coming by. I do have to say it is quite fortuitous that this 100th lands on TMI Thursday. So without further delay:

Best (or grossest) TMI Thursday post: If you have a weak stomach, don’t press forward…

The post I feel I was most on my game: Let me peak at your soul…

And last but not least the post that kicked this blog off: So, this is JP…

Again, thanks for dropping in and I hope you celebrate this upcoming 4th of July weekend and your country, by blowing up a small piece of it.

JP

I am going to be that guy!

**To my loyal readers, you may want to skip this one. This post is me hating on fucktard readers**

I bit ago my friend Lexa and I were discussing how some people out there are real cunts. People have serious issues and take it out on others. I understood from my male perspective, which is quite limited to truly psychotic people, and could not comprehend what she was saying. Then I read her post about A cooker with a heart of gold. I got it but didn’t understand. The main reason it did not sink is was because of one simple fact; it wasn’t me. I could not grasp why someone would A) write someone they did not know, an email of such epically fucktarded proportions. B) Why they felt they needed to be anonymous about. C) On a woman’s (strong one at that) cooking blog.

I let it go in my normal, “well, it’s not me fashion.” Though I really didn’t. I thought about it and then it started clicking somewhere in the dark recesses of my brain. Then I thought, well this is an isolated incident and only happened to females. FAIL! Enter Mooog’s contest where he blast’s the little boy bloo. This stupid ass had it coming. Then, something amazing happened Mooog kept it up! With his rendition of the asshole blast. This had me laughing all day! So, my outlook slightly changed from thinking that people are singled out. I mean if you can say something more retarded than Moog (only love bro) then you have issues.

Why am I bringing this up today? Simple one tweets too many did it:  @whatagrandworld …after finding a post where someone linked to my blog & essentially said I was selfish, crazy and undate-able, I’m a little gun-shy now.

She is referring to an comment left by a dick-knuckle called “single guy”  on her Most. Depressing. Covo. Ever post. Please see above where I did not understand Lexa’s position. This time I saw it play out. I am not saying this is how I would have handled it, but never the less, shit went pear-shaped. I have to take some responsibility for what happened next. I tweeted to her that she should write the “single guy” (we now know why that is) off and post something to lift her spirits. I said, “you should post how awesome you are!” So, she did with the following post: Reason’s I’m Awesome. Then his popped up on my radar today from Captain Capitalism. To be a blogger and link such hate is purely infuriating. Seriously? You are that lame and self-righteous?

Here’s the deal. The DC blogging community is quite strong. In fact we kind of have a “Bro’s before Hoe’s” mentality. You the reader, are loved and cherished. We love your feedback and insight. Cool things have been learned from The Gospel. However, it is unfortunate that you are the hoe’s in this relationship. We love you, but if you go after a Bro, we are like a roaming gang of Tom Brokaw’s.

There are some rules to this shit that made me an animal, a step by step booklet or lets say proper etiquette to, well, civilized communication. I understand that we the sender, may not be presenting you the receiver, with an agreeable message. However, remember these few things:

1. You came here, not the other way around.
2. We may never agree on anything.If we do well then this post is not intended for you.
   
3. Would you say that to me in a public place where you are liable to get your ass kicked?
4. Would you be comfortable saying the same thing to your significant other?
   
5. Is what I wrote so inflammatory that you have to go all Pat Robertson?
6. If you don’t like it tell me. Debate me on a respectful level. Leave you hate for your Klan rally.

Everyone should get over themselves and their “holy-er than thou” approach. I have seen meth addicts, that pawned a friends stuff, preach about god and humanity to lesbians. This is no different. What you think is right doesn’t make it so. If you think so, go to Cuba and see if you can get away with the same thing. Welcome to Jamrock America where the opinion is feverishly defended and the right to have it; not your hate.

So to you haters, in the immortal words of Joey: SUCK A DICK!

P.S.for those that go my various music references today, I love ya!

My life does not suck

Very random things happen to me on the regular. So much so, that I do not think twice when something “questionable” pops up on my radar. Last night was no different. I received this text message at 7:45 last night:

“Hey whats up? You probly don’t remember me. We met last month when your friend was “cougar hunting” Would you be up for a drink?”

Me: “I can’t say I do. Which friend and where did the hunt occur? I may be available.”

Her: Haha. Started at Dexters, then failed attempt at Circa, then Fids. I was the youngest blond from MI who drinks whiskey.”

Me: LOL! I remember you. Yea, I am in.

Ladies and gentlemen I met this girl during an epic battle with beer fest as highlighted in my Back to our regularly scheduled program post. This girl was totally awesome to hangout with, so I was totally in. Told her to meet me at the wine place and hit the shower.

Now, it can be very daunting to anyone who is going to meet up with someone that you met, when you basically drank yo’ face straight off. I remembered she was beautiful and blond, but that’s about it.

Wow! My memory was really fuzzy! This girl was 100% my speed. 5′3″ thick in the right places, blue eyes, blond hair, and very well dressed. Walked up and was greeted with a beautiful smile and a hug. *Bam*Sat down and we both ordered a beer. In fact she was like, I am going to try the watermelon beer, because it sounds interesting. *God, I hope you are not effin with me*

The conversation flowed. In fact this was a model date. Relaxed, interesting vibrant and intelligent. In fact, this girl is what I needed. She attends med school in my home state and is 9 months away from graduating. Is in town doing one of her last rotations and called me because she had fun, last time we were out.

We moved onto another bar and the tone and relevance of the conversation kept up. There was no trying and it glorious. We decided to call it a night, because we both had to show up to work and I walked her to her car. Opened the door for her, leaned in, and kissed the softest lips I have ever felt. Full, luscious, and unadulterated. What.A. Kiss! There is nothing worse than going out with someone and having a great time and then you kiss them… FAIL. Not with this girl. Like the entire evening, it was epic.

We parted ways smiling and making plans for a reunion tour later this weekend, both tinged with a bit of blush.

One the way home, I decided I needed to pick up some items from the 7-11 and who do I see? My old surfing crew from the mid-90’s! Awesome! They invited me back to their place for a beer and I obliged. Got back to their joint and I regaled them with my tales from the evening. I received several, well deserved, high fives. During this time, I received a text that read “Had fun tonight, call me soon.”

Just when I thought it couldn’t get better, as I am leaving, my friend Bonnie, who I have always had a crush on stopped me at the door and said; “I was worried about you back in the day. Worried about the kind of man you would be. I like what you have become and I am proud that you are not only a gentleman, but a success in your own right. I know you had a rough time when you were younger, but you have overcome.”

Wow, that just happened. I hugged her and kissed her on the cheek thanking her for the kind and passionate words.

Got in bed around 3:30 to be woken up by my alarm at 6:55 am. Smiling. Hell as I write this, I have a grin.I am going to play the lottery today.

EPIC!

Like all my relationships

I am on again, off again with this site. It is my outlet, but at the same time I want to destroy it and move on. I am sure I will get over this soon, but for the time being I am taking a break.It seems that when my work and home life get busy I expend all my energy there and none is left for the Gospel.

I should be checking back next week and will regale you stories about my past few dates and the evolution of all things JP. So, keep an eye out on your readers, I will be popping back up soon. btw: I am really backed up on my own reader, but I am still lurking on my fellow blogger’s sites. So, check them out, there are good things going on.

JP

Can I get an amen from the back section?

That’s what she said!

I am feeling a bit refreshed and sort of back on wire. While off and about I found out a few things about myself, lets call it awareness. I go through phases where I feel the need to do something drastic. I wanted to destroy my blog and twitter, just to say I was almost there. Then I got angry letters where my balls may have been put in harms way if I did. Instead, I blanked out a myspace account that was causing me to doubt myself as an American, yes as an American.

Well back to my point. I had an eventful week or so. I discovered some things that opened my eyes to my new life direction. Nothing like an ephifany, but just a good mellow realization that I may be evolving. Anyways, here is what I was up to:

• Went out with the girl and had a nice dinner and a hung out. Found out she likes PBR, crazy British gangster movies, speaks fluent Spanish, and comes from a similar low-income mid-west background. It is really nice to have a distraction like her. She will only be here another 3 weeks or so and hopefully, so will I. To be honest, if she was a long termer, I would be in trouble. In fact she came with me to the local watering hole and she was totally mellow. The parting moments are always my favorite. Bonus.
• Found out someone I am interested has a small crush on me. I still don’t believe it, but I like it. It is always nice to know someone is interested in you and not for something you “are” or “have”.
• I was visited by the ink fairy
• Let me just tell you, sitting for hours on end having your friend drill on you is not the best idea. I did discover that if you put a bendy straw in a tall boy of PBR, you can lay down and drink comfortably.
• I hosted a B-B-Q and about 12 friends show up. We totally threw down! My mom and a few of her friends dropped in. It was classic, my buddy Jimbo was wearing a “I like Whores” shirt and was hitting on my mom’s friend. food was good, beer was cold, and we had a good time.
• I told my boss I have one foot out the door and the other on a banana peel. Still waiting for that call!
• Made plans with the girl for this week.
• Realized I may be ready to find someone to cool my heels with. To be honest I am lonely. Let me rephrase, I miss having a partner in crime that is a support and inspiration. I may be on the look out for this person now.
• Returned to work just in time for the busy season once again. I cannot wait to get out of there.

So, as you can see nothing too exciting. But I have to say, I do not like writing unless I am inspired. This inspiration comes from music. In fact when I sit down to write, a song typically flows through my mind. For some reason the music has stopped. Maybe a spark or an adventure is needed to get the flow going again.

Anyways, as always, thanks for reading. Hopefully the music will return soon and the inspiration will move me once again.

I am leaving dis babylon

A couple things short and sweet:

If you like reggae music you should check out the album Movement by the Rootz Underground. Bad ass tracks. Picked them up last night. God, I have a horrible addiction to ITunes.

I received an email yesterday from a large university in the DC metro area telling me I was accepted to the Master’s program I have been sweating for about a year. I have a Fall (like 4 weeks) option or Spring option. When I got the news I did a happy dance similar to this guy:

So I have to sort out my life very quickly and either pull the trigger or take a breather. Either way, I am totally stoked. Stay tuned as I will probably flip a coin or something like that to decide.

Transition

With all the new and exciting things going on in my hood, reality kind of kicked me in the balls the other day. I was on the phone with the admission director for the masters program and told her I would accept the Spring 2010 position. Hung up the phone, looked around, and said, “oh shit. This just got real!” Had a small, “what the hell am I doing” existential freak out and my mind was going a mile a second. I just made shit real.

Its mellow. It took me by surprise a bit, in a good way. See, I have been dragging my feet a bit and just “going through the motions” of relocating and pulling my shit together. Well, now that I have a goal set things are finally feeling as if I am on my way; to where I do not know. Well, I have got school locked down and 2 days after I got the news, I lined up an interview with a really significant place that will only improve my resume. This goes down next Friday and I am totally pumped.I am way under qualified, but I feel if I give it a shot, it will be great practice for anything in the future. I hope it works out, but I know the reality involved.

In preparation for this interview and other things I started boxing more of my shit up. I mean to find out how much shit can fit in a Lincoln Town car. The interesting thing that kind of sealed the “feeling deal”, was a conversation with the girl I have bee seeing the past few weeks. She told me that she heads to Chicago the day I leave to DC. Side note: This is not the first time I have had a temporary relationship while plotting my next move, it seems to be my thing. Anyways, it just put the nail in the proverbial coffin for me, knowing that while I am here, it is temporary.

Another realization after this past weekend, is that I am ready to move on in life. I want a professional career and a strong woman to be with. For years I struggled to put things together. I was not disadvantaged but at the same time I had no edge. I know what it means to struggle and have nothing. To make it on your own and do things your own way. Lots of lessons learned on this path. Now, I am ready to explore, not necessarily jump into, the potential of a long term situation. Let’s face it, I am not the best looking guy and a bit over weight, and I am sure over time it will only be in decline. I am 28 and feel a new chapter is ready to be written. The good thing is, I am focused challenged have a goal insight to thwart my boredom.

So, renewed with confidence and potential on the horizon, I am moving more of my shit to my empty room in the DC metro area. I am coming in next week and hope to meet up with everyone. It could go 2 ways. 1) Totally pumped from the interview 2) totally bummed from the interview. Either way means that I will be out on the town Friday night. So look out DC, JP’s coming home!

Who would play you?

A friend of mine asked me a few days ago, if a movie was made about your life, who would they get to play you? This got me thinking a bit about this and I came to the conclusion that a movie would not represent my life. A t.v. show would be a better representation. Then I thought, well instead of who would play me, what characters now most represent my personality? I told him this evolution of thought and he then asked, “okay, what character now bests represents you?” Funny thing is, like the voices in my head I don’t think one depiction could best portray me. So, below are 3 examples of my “personality characters.”

• Rescue Me’s “Tommy Gavin”- A dysfunctional Irish firefighter that sees the ghosts of former family member and patients. He is the guy always willing to do what needs to be done in an emergency situation and will always bail out his fellow crew. It is because of this that his personal life suffers greatly.Personal tragedy has molded him, but does not define him. His relationship with the recurring women in his life could be defined as masochistic.                                             

• Scrub’s “Dr. Perry Cox”- A well educated Irish Chief of Medicine, who’s ego could engulf the entire hospital building. Sarcastic, narcissistic, and quick witted with his own brand of philosophy dubbed “coxian” He goes for the strong willed women that have a dysfunction to match his. Though his sister is uber religious, Perry is a harden atheist. Seen making illogical and self destructive choices to retain a self delusional image. Will go on long winded rants about the things he hates. Often accused of drinking too much and having a general disdain for humanity, Perry shows that he is superior at his job and will go the extra mile to do right by his patients.

• King of Queen’s “Doug Heffernan”-Is a pretty mellow average guy who enjoys his food. Has a smoking hot wife that loves him, even though he is “chubby.” Always surrounded by a core group of interesting and diverse friends, Doug is the ring leader of the group. He is portrayed to be average or slacker at work, he is very dedicated while there and consistently out performs his fellow employees. He has ambitions of owning his own sandwich shop and consistently battles with his crazy live in father-in-law.

What t.v. or movie character would you be?

Pour one out for your hommies

Unfortunately, this post is appropriately titled. I received some bad news today about a friend of mine that died while lobster diving. Early news says it was a pulmonary embolism, which can, well, wreck your day. This hit me pretty hard and I am feeling uneasy about  this as this is my 3rd friend just this year. I have a very strange and weird relationship with death and no longer ask “why?”

Yoni- Knew this guy from high school and we used to surf together. Cool dude. Tattoo artist and had 2 kids and a wife he very much loved. I never knew he had issues, until I got the call that he threw himself off a bridge. How did I feel? Indifferent and sad. Sad that he went out that way. Not because he was dead, just because he had so much potential ahead of him.

Adam- A guy I grew up with. Surfed with. Worked with. Killed on his motorcycle when hit by a drunk driver. He was 25. Just started his own business and had a great girlfriend. I got a call from our former boss to tell me the news. How did I feel? Disbelief and anger. Angry that this woman pulled out in front of him and took him out. He was just getting going.

Shane- I’ve known Shane for about 8 years. He was a fellow firefighter for the city I worked in and he was my preceptor when I did my rotations during EMS/Fire school. I also worked with his wife on the night shift in the ER. In fact, I remember when they started dating and when they got married. I wish I could be half the man Shane was. I got the text message at work. In fact I was chatting with a friend when it rolled though. How do I feel? Really upset. A strange sadness has hit me.

Why would this death be different? Simple, the fire and emergency services community is like a gang. You cannot get out. Even if someone in that gang hates you, if you are in trouble, they would step up to help. Shane’s wife and I worked almost the same shift for 7 years. In fact we worked so well together, that we always made sure we were together, especially when we were assigned to trauma or “fast track.” We knew what needed to be done and we always had each others back. We were not BFF, but we were down. The kind of down that no words needed to be spoken. She was a constant supporter of anything I did, giving me words of encouragement. She also would break my balls if I stepped out of line and had no problem telling me what was up.

How does this relate to Shane? Simple, my friend fiercely loved him. The woman that had my back for 7 years is now in pain and I can do nothing about it. The medical examiner will not let her see his body. She is in pain and I feel for her. For once, all I can offer my friend is the same generic condolences we offered our patients… it kills me! I am getting to a point in my life where I am seriously thinking about my future in every possible way. What if my wife was taken from me, I wouldn’t want generic “I am sorry’s.” Plus, from day one in school you are told you will die. To die in service and with your brothers in the most honorable thing you can ever do. If you happen to make it to retirement, you will probably die from something you picked up during your term of service; cancer, mesothelioma, hepatitis, anything. Your death would be honored. To be taken out by a PE, that is tough one to take. It hits you with no consolation prize. No epic saga of your deeds. Robbed.

I do however, find it interesting that even though I have been away for 2 years, I still get the messages. My friends who are hurting, like me, reach out to those who will always be there as a support system. I haven’t talked to her in 2 years, but it doesn’t matter. Our professional relationship is a deeply rooted personal one. In that enviroment, the two are not seperate. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, where do we go from here. I want to let it out and move on. Though, it won’t happen now, it will happen when I am at the services and every fire fighter in the county is there. Dressed in their Class A’s as the bagpipes come down the isle. You want to see an entire room of grown men, fire fighters, cry? Just watch and listen as amazing grace is played through the pipes. That scares the shit out of me. Those tones are all too familiar. It is my mortal fear. Just to know that in the Fir Na Tine tradition, the pipes call our brother home. Below is a traditional send off. The way Shane and all other firefighters of honor get sent off. I could only be so lucky to have the pipes lead me home one day.

A wife has lost a husband. Community has lost a saint. A friend will weep for all.

Donkey Kong doesn’t even know the scope of how on it is.

First off, sorry for laying the heavy post on you yesterday. I needed to get it out of my system before it ate me alive. Now, on to more pressing issues…

Okay, I will be MIA all next week because my calender is stacked full of insanity. I have like 3 dinners to go to, girl I have been seeing is leaving, a wake, a funeral, road trip to my house, a job interview to rock out and a Happy Hour to crash; hosted by the ever sexy Lexa and LiLu an the awesome Restaurant Refugee. Don’t forget to tip your servers!

Hosted By Lexa, LiLu, and Restaurant Refugee

So, if you want to catch up and chat with or hell even meet with, yours truly, come on by. I will be reprezentin in full effect that night. Hell, we may even do some puma hunting. So, come by and lose your face! Don’t worry, you can aways plead da 1, 2, 3, 4,  FIF!!!

A week in review

Hello once again! I have returned from my epic journey to the District. So, here is a play by play, day by day:

Saturday- The last day the girl and I were together. Was kind of bummed out because I really got to like her and felt like if given the chance it could have really worked out; we both knew the score of the short term relationship. Story of my life. Meet a great girl and she is plucked from my arms.

Sunday- Took girl home. Shane’s wake. Bad day.

Monday- My friends funeral was at 2 and felt an odd sadness the rest of the day. Went to Texas de Brazil with some co-workers and Roomy #1. This place is a carnivores dream land with every kind of meat on skewers on demand. We had so much meat, I was dying of meat death. The place is awesome! Though, on the way out, like within 5 minutes of leaving the restaurant, my roommate says,  “um, I need to use the restroom all that meat went right trough me.” I asked if Burger King would work and she said it would, thus proving it’s emergent nature. She was gone for 20 minutes. When she finally emerged, I asked WTF? This is what she tole me after dropping a deuce: “I was in the first stall and there was no toilet paper, so I had to waddle to the handicap stall. I get there and not only did they not have tp, there were no paper towels either! Looked in my purse and there was nothing. Took a deep breath and said a prayer and waddled out to the main floor of the bathroom to get paper towels with my pants around my ankles, still in desperate need of a good wipe.” I about died from laughing so damn much.

Tuesday- Went to work with a meat hangover and yes, this can happen. Was a slacker at the best description. Went with Roomy #1 to get sushi with our friend. Great evening of catching up and reminiscing about the mid-west.

Wednesday- Alarm went off at 3:50 am. and I was on the road headed north by 4:30. After a cup of coffee, 2 red bulls, 2 waters, and a half of a slim jim that I shared with my dog, I arrived in my apartment in Va. at 5:30. Showered and hungry, I met up with the DC Princess for dinner at Oyamel. Though I was the social equivalent of a zombie, it was a very nice time. The food there was beyond amazing. We had the guacamole (could have just eaten this) and their salsa, which was nicely spiced. A couple of tacos and a few margaritas. This was truly a great way to start my trip off.

Thursday- Went to lunch with Lizard Breath at Gordon Biersch and hit on the waitress and stared at women. It was a good time. I was going to head up to the University to fill out paperwork, but opted for a nap. Made a few strategic phone calls about possible career opportunities. Then the friends showed up and the vodka flowed. Around 11 our neighbor Jude showed up and it just came unglued. This girl can drink! She left around 3??? I think I fell asleep around 4.

Friday- Woke up slightly fuzzy. Went out to my car to get my Smart trip card and a pair of sunglasses… What. The. Fuck! My car was GONE. Yes, gone. Now, I may or may not have overreacted at this point (please see JP melted the fuck down) when went to the leasing office to find out what had happened. It was parked in the visitors section, but parked right next to the space that had visitor written on it. Oh yea, did I mention it was 12 and my interview was down in the heart of Georgetown? Yea, it was like that. Found out it would cost me $150.00 to get my car. Caught the Metro into town. Got off at Foggy Bottom and decided it would be quicker to walk to to my destination, in the middle of a warm Summer day, in a suit. Fail! Made it with 10 minutes to spare, sweating my balls off! Had the interview that was supposed to last an hour, it went an hour and half. Very cool. I did my best, but I am very worried I will get beat out by someone with more experience. Made it home by 7pm. I was wiped and broke. Here is where I totally apologise to everyone who came out to happy hour. I really wanted to go but just didn’t have it in me time or money wise to make it back into town. I promise I will make it up to you!!!

Saturday- Went and got my car and paid the $150.00 while talking shit the entire time, because some times I can’t let shit go. Loaded up the car and went to Fredrick Maryland to see some friends. Went to Brewer’s Alley for lunch and ridiculous conversation. Got home around 8 and went back out to Champs to meet some friends. By this time I hated people and was drained.

Sunday- Alarm went off at 4:30 am and i was on the road at 5. 1 cup of coffee, 2 red bulls, and half a hot-dog I shared with my dog, I made it to my house in Orlando by 5:30 pm.  Wiped. Out.

Today- I am still wiped and a bit stressed about the potential job. I think it would be an awesome fit for me and I could do amazing things there. So, I now must play the waiting game. Shoot me! So, it is what it is and I will keep you posted.

Sticky Situation

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

It has been a while since I have put out a good TMI. In light of that, today I bring you a public service announcement JP style. Ladies and some gentlemen (I have diverse readers), listen up, this could happen to you!

Recently I found myself entrenched in a very good, nay epic, session of sexy time. It was a throw down if you will. It was Boston at my house and I was the lead runner in the marathon. Things were all they were billed to be. In the morning or same night, depending on your persepctive, I dropped the young lady off at her house and went back to the honey comb hideout. As I crawled into bed* I felt something tugging on my my shaft.

Well, actually let me start off in the beginning. Before I even embarked on this journey, I did some manscaping, knowing full well what the evening had in store. If I have learned anything in my short time on this earf,  is no one want to play an over grown course if you know what I mean. Smooth as the 18th green. The girl and I went out, had drinks, and closed the bar. On the way out I offered her a piece of gum, because no one wants to kiss drunk breath.**

Well, fast forward to me going to bed and nagging feeling that something was just not right, um, in my world. Reached down, did a 24 point inspection and found a major issue. It seems the gum I had previously given to my date was now hitching a ride on the S.S. JP submarine. Thats right folks, she forgot to take out her gum, before she attached her mouth on my shaft. Now, please realize two things: 1) She blew me early on in the evening and then later as the ceremonies were coming to a close. So, there is no real detailed timeline on this event. 2) The gum was attached and I didn’t realize it, well, due to the events of the evening. I did what any decent man would do, pulled off the foreign object and went to sleep.***

So, the moral of the story ladies (and gentlemen) is: If you are going to blow a guy, take the fucking gum out your mouf!

*My roommate had questions, actually more of a noise compliant due to the preacher man activities on my side of the house.

**Yes, I was thinking of only myself at this point in time. I do have a mild gum addiction and hate skank breath.

***It was only skin contact, because I had manscaped earlier. Plus, I was wicked fucking tired and didn’t give a shit enough to freak out.

So it has been said

I have just confirmed what every ex-girlfriend has ever told me… I am impatient. I am impatient to the point that I stress over the littlest things, that I have absolutely no control over. A week ago last Friday, I interviewed for a major position, that would basically ensure me a bitchin resume within 6 months. Yes, this is most definitely a status position, one I would be very comfortable to posses. The lead up to the interview was a disaster and the panel style interview did not help the situation. I truly feel I did the best I could do.

With that said, it still doesn’t take away that feeling deep down in my gut, that say’s “strong work on the interview, but we decided to go with someone else.” I heard nothing. No call, no email, not even a carrier pigeon. No news is good news right? Yeah, tell that to your girlfriend while she pees on a stick, wondering if it will turn blue. Or while giving blood, to hear if you are a winner of the HIVy award. It is all nerve racking. You feel you know that you covered all your bases, but something deep down is panicking.

Then, the self destructive behavior starts. Yeah, I am totally awesome and can deal with my feelings in an amazingly mature way #Fail. Binge drinking, yelling at people, anti-social behavior, and of course, smoking. All signs that I need to get my head right and get back in the game. I have not heard anything yet and still I act is if the world is melting and I need to go down with it (TWSS). Hell, maybe a hobby will help???

I know this is my own delusional paranoia, personafied by past trauma. I get it. But what the hell? What is the point of this post? I have no idea. All I am saying is I just want the chance to prove to myself, that I can do anything I set my mind to. This waiting thing though, may just be the end of me. Dramatic, yes. Paranoid, oh god yes. Thankful that there are supportive people out there, that listen to my whining; more than you will ever know.

Never trust a sheep farmer

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

A few years back I lived with a few of my good friends in South Australia. Yes, they are Aussies and had been to the states several times and I was now enjoying their hospitality. Their home was my home and by proxy, their friends were my friends. What happens when you are a 24 plane ride away from your home? Well, you just have to go with the flow and at time you never know where the river will take you.

Enter Farmer Mick: Farmer Mick is a sheep farmer and a demolitions expert. Blowing shit up by day, farming at night. Well, Mick was quite connected in town and knew heaps of people. However, it is true no matter where you go; farmers are not that cultured to city life. The stereo type of an Aussie cowboy Mick was. Down right nice guy and would do anything for you… But would also get you in shit tons of trouble due to his naivety.

10:30 on a random Wednesday night my cell phone rings and its Farmer Mick. He tells me he is on the way over to pick me up and we are going to go to Sumo night at the Nash Noodle House in downtown Geelong. Cool, betting on Sumo, I am there. We arrive and promptly start talking shit and throwing down money and giving the Sumo’s names like “King Tubby” and “Captain Calorie”; what do you expect, we were getting shit tanked on Jager bombs and VB’s. Anyways, we team up with some other dudes Mick knew and a few girls we met at the bar. Sumo concludes, girls want to go to the club. Now, as a visitor I suspect that my guide that came and picked me up, knew the town fairly well or at least the kind of club we were going to. #FAIL Mick had no idea what the place was about and I got the distinct impression that something was awry.

We get to this club and it looks like every other club we had been to on the trip. Long shady stairwell, bouncers that were well dressed and smoking a cig, and of  course us, the asshole brigade. We roll up, fucking hammered, and the bouncer say’s, “you boys aight? You do know where you are at right?” Me: “Of course I am fine. Yeah, I know where I am, do you? We are here with the girls.” Bouncer: *smiles* “aight then, have a lovely evening.”

We stroll in, do a quick survey and do a full scale attack on the bar. As we are pounding more Jager, I begin to get a funny feeling that the M:F ratio is a bit off. Fuck it, I brought my own girls. So, decidedly, we all needed to piss. The boys go before me, as I was a little distracted. Finally, went to it. I walked in and this is where it got weird: I walked in the bathroom and saw some guy talking to another guy from our group, hand on his shoulder and our buddy looked horrified. I said “whats up” and went to to piss.Then out of the corner of my eye, I see our buddy bolt out of the bathroom. Hmm, fuck it. I finish up and start to walk out. As I approach the door, I see the guy that was talking to our buddy, with a funny look on his chevy chase.

As I approached, the dude nodded his head at me as if to say whats up, but I realized he had something in his hand. Remember, I have been drinking Jager all nigh and a bit slow on the uptake. I looked down to see what this asshole was doing and I realized he was holding his cock as if he had just won a prize at the state fair. Kid you not, he say’s “What do you think, you like?” Me: *serious face* “Dude, what the fuck are you doing. This is a fucking bathroom, not a circus. Put that shit away and stop being a fag. What the fuck is wrong with you?” as I am walking out the door. Yep, I just called a dude propositioning me in the bathroom a fag. Then, all of a sudden, things start to fall into place like a fucking movie sequence. I, drunk ass JP, was balls deep in a Aussie gay bar courtesy of Farmer Micks dumb ass.

Now, I have been to many gay bars with my Sis and usually she points out the places to avoid. Being drunk in a strange land, in an undercover bar, I had no idea what was going on around me. Call it ignorant bliss. All until a guy offered me his cock. #NOTCOOL

I find Mick, tell him the score and that I may have created an international incident in the bathroom, I felt it was time to go. Mick, the asshole, tried to debate me on this issue. I was not having it and dragged him down the stairs right past the bouncer. I shit you not, the bouncer looks at me and Say’s “ah, come on now, could have been that bad?” Me: “No it wasn’t that bad. Except for almost getting ass raped in the bathroom by some douche bag.” Bouncer *smiles* “Have a lovely evening gentlemen.”

Wake up the next day and find Red, Rocky, Dane, and Blake in the living room. I proceeded to tell them about my adventure earlier that evening and where Mick had taken me. Dane, pipes up and say’s “mate, you know that place is a gay bar right?” Me: “well at first I didn’t until this fucking gay ninja came out of left Field with his pork sword in hand trying to swash-buckle me!”

We all laughed and they took me to a strip club later that day to and I quote Rocky “Ungay me.” Never trust a sheep farmer…

Living Wicked indeed

I feel my readers have been truly deprived lately. A lot of me pissing and moaning about silly shit and not enough sexy. Well friends, I am going to fix that. As a connoisseur of tattoo’s and ladies, I would like to welcome you to Foxy Friday! Foxy Fridays: features tattooed females, female artists or women that are sexy, intriguing, and artistic in their own right. Going on the principle that ink and art is sexy and vastly becoming a societal norm, rather than counter culture. These individuals hold both traditional and non-traditional roles in our culture and they need to be celebrated for their overall beauty.

For the inaugural run I bring you a special treat, the luscious Wicked Courtni from Living Wicked:

I live with my plate as full as possible at all times. I am a wife, and a mother of 2 beautiful children. I work, write, blog, and I am a full time student.

I am a self-proclaimed addict. Of ink and piercings. My first trip to Los Angeles at the budding age of 17 and a half, I was on a mission to get my first tattoo. I searched high and low for an artist to pop my ink cherry…  but no one would do it. I asked everyone. From Burbank to Venice Beach and all up and down Hollywood Blvd… but was turned away by every single one. Stupid Laws. I had almost given up hope until I found herself at the Slausen Swap Meet. Yes. The one on Crenshaw Blvd. In COMPTON. A very … mean mexican man agreed to tramp-stamp the fuck out of my back. I didn’t care that he didn’t speak a lick of English, or the fact that he called me a “bendeho” at every flinch and grimace.

I was VICTORIOUS.

From then, I wanted more. Each and every drop of ink on my body means something to me. It tells a story of my life. I do not believe in meaningless tattoos. Ones that fill in space … or connect one piece to another. Filler if you will. I think that if you are going to ink yourself, it needs to have a story attached. Any one of my tattoos I could tell you what it meant to me at that time. WHY it was important then and still IS important now.

Looking at my back, you might not be able to make sense of what it means. The Kanji up my spine is the combination of my name and my husbands. He has the same one on his forearm. Tattoo’s have become kind of a bonding between us. He has a love for ink like I do, and I would say that he has inspired me to be more liberal in regard to tattoos.

My back piece is a work in progress. The stars represent my firm belief in fate and that those who pass stay with you… their watchful eyes the stars that shine above us. I think that eventually, each star on my back will represent a person who I love and who I have lost. I have a portrait of Marilyn Monroe on my inner thigh. I plan to have more of her inked on me. We share the same birthday, you know … and from a very young age I felt as if I related to her life. Her story. Her passion. She was who she was, as I am who I am. And it didn’t matter what anyone said or thought… she stayed true to what she believed.

I plan on more ink in my future. I am not sure what exactly yet. It will come to me in a wave of inspiration I am sure. It always does. What I am sure of is that the permanence is a part of me. A commitment to who I am. A statement that we can be at whatever place in life that we want to be… and have ink. And show it off. Rock it. Loud and proud.

I am sexier with ink than without it.

Special note: Living Wicked has just written and published her first book entitled Submissive Confessions. Go and check out a 10 page preview and buy the shit out of it!

If you or someone you know would like to be featured on Foxy Friday, please contact JP live and direct at justjpblog (at) gmail (dot) com for more details.

When the devils nipping at your heels, you know this time it’s for real

Woke up Saturday morning with serious issues. Head pounding and throat sore. More specifically, the taste of chili cheese fries and smoke on my breath. Seriously, not attractive. Yes, I was still drunk when I woke up and it was pretty hard-core. After a mild lobotomy shower I started to feel a bit more human and started to evaluate my current state of overall health… Let’s just say it is rather poor.

I need a solid holiday from the booze and pretty much everything else that is not good for me, that I like oh so much. The usual chain of events is Booze–> Smokes–>Fast Food= shitty next morning. In fact my roommate, who is the voice of reason at times said, “you know if you smoke you are going to feel like shit, you always do.” I am kind of tired of it. There is no need to punish myself chemically, especially when I can beat myself up physically and in the long run feel better about the whole thing. Besides, I had someone that I know cares for me, say something to the effect of slow down, your liver does not like you. Usually, I don’t listen to others, but I heard this persons sincerity and appreciate them for it.

I am taking 30 days off to detox a bit. In fact, I am going to do things a bit differently than just taking 30 days off of booze. I have a tier system step up (in my head of course) to accomplish this small goal. Here is the step up:

30 days no alcohol.

No fast food. (not a huge issue)

No Soda. (not an issue)

After 10 days no processed foods. Crackers, chips, and anything that comes from a box.

Workout (weather permitting):

Biking on Monday, Wednesday, Friday

Swimming on Tuesday, and Thursday

All followed by push-ups and sit-ups to keep the core up.

I know it doesn’t seem like a huge plan, but that’s the point. These are things that are small on their own, but can really add up over a long period of time. Plus, I really push myself. 15 miles on day 20 the next. I tend to really go for it. It is all about my level of motivation and right now, I am feeling it.

My reward for all of this? Well, depending on how the rest of my life comes together, I plan on hitting up the Great American Beer Festival. The way I see it, 30 days of punishment will deserve a solid reward.

Do you have a detox program? How do you cleanse your system?

Don’t trust a sheep farmer or my Sister for that matter.

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

I told you last week about the incident with the sheep farmer and how he shouldn’t trusted. Well, actually, its my Sister that really shouldn’t be trusted. I had just returned from Australia and was in DC for New Years eve 2006/2007. We decided that we should go to Dupont Circle¹ and hangout at one of the bars there. Well, before we went out, I wanted to get a new shirt and tie, just to keep it on the klassy. Went to a store called Pink, found a very nice shirt, and was talked into a pink color tie. We pre-gamed a good amount and I should have known things would go down hill from here.

Getting dressed to go out I was convinced by my sister and her roommate that I should wear the new shirt and tie I just purchased. I was in, cause I looked good; Blue dress shirt with white French cuffs, black pants, nice shoes, and a pink tie. We headed out into the depths of the Circle to find “our” bar. Insanity, bars were charging like $50.00 just to get in and there was nothing special about these places. So, my Sister pipes up and says, I know this place in Adam’s Morgan², not knowing any better, I was of course, in.

We got into a cab and quickly discovered that the cabby was either drunk or just plain mental. As we get in, he notices Jen’s gigantic tits³ and we were off on a ride to Adam’s Morgan. The cabby made inappropriate, yet funny comments about my Sister and Jen, and was all “I love the lesbians. I wish my wife was a lesbian.” We thought it was funny as shit. Yeah, kind of creepy. In that DC is kind of creepy after 11pm anyways, way. Dropped us off in front of the bar.

Things were looking up, the line was short, admission cheap, and a the few girls in line were really hot. Of course started talking to them and was working out a few things. Went inside, got a few drinks and we all started dancing. Then, all of a sudden, I got that strange feeling that I was somewhere I probably shouldn’t be.

Looked around and I quickly noticed that the M:F ratio was once again, unequal. I looked at my Sister, who instantly knew, I knew what was going on and I said, “what the fuck, you brought me to a fucking sausage fest, on fucking New Year’s eve!” She said, “its cool. Plus its too late to go anywhere else.” Now, realizing that I was in a Gay bar, in Adam’s Morgan, in a pink tie, I quickly felt the need to run to the border and pound a few tequila shots. I came back to where the girls were with 3 shots and Jen says, “oh, I don’t like tequila.” Me: “Who said these were for you assholes?” Yes, obviously I was pissed. Like fighting mad pissed. Not that I was in a gay bar, but because the girls I was talking to in line, bailed as soon as they found out what the place was. I think I said something like “the gays chased my girls away.

So, as I continued to get bombed⁴ my Sister, knowing I am totally pissed went over and talked to a huddle of gay boys. Brought them over to tell me the following, “oh honey, we gave the straights the color pink years ago. Everyone here is keeps talking about the well dressed straight boy and his 2 lesbians. Lets have a drink.” After that was said, we all got bombed and I kissed Jen at midnight. Ended up having a nice time… After the reality of the moment faded.

Moral of the story, never trust my Sister when she suggests a place to go, without double checking with other sources.

1Our first mistake.

2If you ever hear “lets go to Adam’s Morgan, punch that person in the face.

3You couldn’t miss these things, they were a size double G or something. Once, I put her bra on my head and pretended I was working a rice patty. I thought it was funny.

4What else do you do in this situation?

Luck of the Irish

I would like to welcome you to Foxy Friday! Foxy Fridays features female artists, tattooed females, or women that are sexy, intriguing, and artistic in their own right. Going on the principle that ink and art is sexy and vastly becoming a societal norm, rather than counter culture. These individuals hold both traditional and non-traditional roles in our culture and they need to be celebrated for their overall beauty. Plus, who doesn’t like seeing hot women on Friday’s?

Today The Gospel brings you Jeney from Shamrock-On:

Upon first impression, I am probably not someone you think would need to take off a sock to count all her tattoos.  Hell, I’m not even the kind of girl who jumps into a long-winded explanation when any Tom, Dick, or Harry asks me about them. My answers are typically simple and vague. This is because the ink that adorns my body is exactly that – mine. Although each piece has been inspired by important individuals and instances in my life and they were all designed and put there by someone else; the artwork and the stories that put them there belong to me

Don’t get me wrong, I am proud of my ink and I don’t keep them a secret.  I just feel as if my tattoos are like scars – I’m not going to flash them to everyone I meet, but if you ask to see it or want the story behind it, I’ll tell you.

That is what is so beautiful about body art and body modification to me. Every piercing, tattoo, and implant has a story attached to it that is as unique as the person it belongs to. Each inch of colored skin on my body is just as sacred as each scar, birthmark, or unblemished piece – because it all belongs to me and me alone.  From the tiny Libra symbol on my wrist to the shooting stars that line my ribcage, it is all a part of the glorious and wonderful person that is Jeney.

I don’t think I will ever stop adding to my collection. I have so many plans to expand on pieces I have now as well as for whole new pieces. As a person I am always changing and growing – I expect the same of my body. After all, I’m never getting out of life alive, right? I might as well enjoy this body while I still can – live hard, and rock on!

Want to learn more about Jeney and her ink? She does a feature Tattoos-days where she showcases one piece that she has every Tuesday. Also, you can follow her on twitter at Jeneypeney.

Are you a beautiful woman that may not be considered “typical” housewife material? Do you enjoy the spicer things in life? Then you may be a Fox! If you or someone you know would like to be featured on Foxy Friday, please contact JP, live and direct at justjpblog (at) gmail (dot) com for more details. You can also follow me on Twitter @justjptweet Do it, Doo it.

Sticking with it

Thanks for all the supportive words last week about my detox program. I am proud to report that I am still booze free and today I start the second leg of the program. I am dropping all fast food, processed foods, and basically anything that doesn’t occur naturally. Now, this may prove to be the toughest part of the process, but I think I will do fine. So, here is a short re-cap of last weeks happenings:

• Almost fell off my plan a few times. 1) A co-worker invited me to lunch for a slice and a pint. I declined after thinking about it. 2) My boss wanted to have drinks after work. Thank god my other co-workers have given up booze and have gone veg. 3) My friend, a bartender, it was his last night before moving to NY. I had to say I was out of town.
• I saw Inglorious Basterds and it was everything a movie should be! Great plot, storyline, dialogue, and a really good ending. Just enough comedy and suspense to keep you in your seat for almost 3 hours. Really, I had no idea it was that long until I walked out. Go see it.
• For some reason I cannot get the Clarence Greenwood song “Sideways” out of my head.
• Still have not heard about the job I interviewed for, but have made the decision that if I do not hear from them this week, I am buying my plane tickets to Beer Fest and the Islands. I am totally going to Beer Fest, just need to sort out which airport to leave out of. The Islands is a current work related thing, so I need to slow my roll on that one.
• A good friend of mine has helped me acquire about 30 G’s of music, so I will have some new reviews coming up on that front.

As you can see not too much going on, but hopefully things will pick up soon. Don’t forget that Foxy Friday is in full swing and if you or someone you know would like to be featured, contact JP at justjpblog (at) gmail (dot) com. Also, you can follow me on Twitter @justjptweet.

This girl will leave you in suspense…

I would like to welcome you to Foxy Friday! Foxy Fridays features female artists, tattooed females, or women that are sexy, intriguing, and artistic in their own right. Going on the principle that ink and art is sexy and vastly becoming a societal norm, rather than counter culture. These individuals hold both traditional and non-traditional roles in our culture and they need to be celebrated for their overall beauty. Plus, who doesn’t like seeing hot women on Friday’s?

Today The Gospel brings you my friend Crash:

Photo courtesy of Hellophoto.net

JP: Explain a little bit about what a suspension artist does? How did you become involved in this art form?

Crash: A suspension performer can mean something different to allot of people. In general it is someone who uses this as a means of entertainment, and adding their own interpretation of the art. Each has their own idea, or thought process. I just like to be half naked, bloody, and entertaining people! I LOVE IT!  I started doing suspension in 06. I have been around the industry for some time, and had friends that were already involved in the industry. I finally had the desire to experience it, and fell in love! Shortly there after I realized I had found something that I had a real passion for. Before I knew it I was doing shows, and couldn’t get enough!

JP: What kind of reaction do you get when you tell people that you are a suspension artist?

Crash: Depends on who you tell! Normally, “What in the hell is that? Weird! Why would you do that to your self?”

Photo Courtesy of MichelleK

JP: How does it feel to be an “alt-artist” and exhibit your body in the realm of modeling?

Crash: I just consider my self an artist! Not alt, goth, fetish, or an other sort of classification. Not that it is a bad thing, I just enjoy being able to get my hands in all of it! It’s all about pushing yourself, and growing as an artist. I’m a total voyeur, so modeling is the best place to do it! Right?

JP: My understanding is that you have been featured on godsgirls.com and several tattoo magazines. What is it like to be a strong, beautiful, tattooed woman and display your art?

Crash: Yes, you can find me all over! Magazines, featured sites, books, magazines, tattoo conventions, and fetish events! Come play! What is it like? It’s like living out all your dirty little fantasies every day!”

Photo courtesy of the dallasobserver.com

JP: How does your art and your daily life coincide? Would anyone know what you did if you did not tell them?

Crash: I have been around the industry for some time, and had friends that were already involved in the industry. I finally had the desire to experience it, and fell in love! Shortly there after I realized I had found something that I had a real passion for. Before I knew it I was doing shows, and couldn’t get enough. And no, I don’t think any one would have any idea of what I do! It isn’t a job where you can look at someone, and say, “hey, she hangs from hooks!”  Most people are surprised by what I do!”

Photo courtesy of Metal Disco Photography

JP: If there are any misconceptions in what you do, what would you clear up?

Crash: People are always open to ask questions and come up with their own interpretation. Generally, people assume I’m associated with drugs in some sort of way, or that I’m wasted when I perform. Actually, it is the exact opposite. I want to be as clear headed as possible! The adrenaline is the high!

Photo courtesy of Hellophoto.net

JP: If you weren’t modeling and doing suspension, what else would you be doing?

Crash: Be a very sad, sad girl!

Wanna see more of Crash? Check her out at the following venues:

Sept 15-20th Minneapolis, MN for the tattoo convention

Sept. 29th to Oct. 6th The Biggest Tattoo Show in the World at Mandalay Bay  Las Vegas, NV

October 31st Las Vegas Fetish and Fantasy

Jan. 10 Baltimore, MD Tattooed Kingpin

Feb. 10 Philadelphia, PA Tattooed Kingpin

Safe Websites:

http://profile.myspace.com/crashofgg

http://twitter.com/_CRASH_GG

Not Safe For Work Websites:

http://www.modelmayhem.com/604197

http://www.godsgirls.com/girls/Crash

Are you a beautiful woman that may not be considered “typical” housewife material? Do you enjoy the spicer things in life? Then you may be a Fox! If you or someone you know would like to be featured on Foxy Friday, please contact JP, live and direct at justjpblog (at) gmail (dot) com for more details. You can also follow me on Twitter @justjptweet Do it, Doo it.

5 things you didn’t know

I found it interesting while talking to my roommate a while ago, when she said that I don’t show my “other side.” At least the side she knows anyways. So, I thought it would be nice to share 5 things about myself, that my readers probably didn’t know. Also, I wanted to give my readers a chance to ask me anything in the comment section below. So, here goes:

1. I am a registered Republican. More towards fiscal standards and less government interference.
2. I have surfed 8 Category (Cat) 3 or better hurricane swells.
3. When I was 6 years old, I won 1st place in a beauty contest. My “speech” was on how awesome the Thundercats are.
4. I have had 9 concussions, 17 broken bones, countless stitches, meniscus repair on my right knee, and had 2 eternal fixator pins in my right elbow due to a compound humeral and ulna head fracture. All of which stem from some sort of outdoor or “extreme” sports. I just call it stupidity.
5. If I could do anything, I would earn my Ph.D. and teach part time in a communications theory or post-modern theory arena. Also, I would open my own gastro-pub/hotel situated between some vineyards in Northern Cali. I would then get to do the 3 things I love; teach, entertain, and cook. That would truly make me happy.

So, what would you like to know about JP?

So, don’t trust a sheep farmer, my sister, or me!

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

So I have told you about the Sheep Farmer incident and the time my Sister totally punked me, well please don’t think that I am innocent.

A few years ago my Sister and I were hanging out with her roommate (and my friend) Mark, when she got a call about Lesbo-A-Go-Go, at the local gay bar. She pitched the idea to Mark and I about seeing girls stripping and getting down with other girls. Of course Mark and I were in. Loaded up the grocery getter and cruised on down to the club.

Upon our arrival I was introduced to an acquaintance of my Sister’s and steadily found out she was a switch hitter. At the door I was standing next to Mark and leaned over and said, “I’ve never been to a gay bar before. I am not sure what to expect.” Being the good friend I am, I told him, “dude, you are my boyfriend for the night. That way no guys will mess with you and it will be cool. Now, quit being a pussy and hold my hand when we walk in to play this off.” So, of course, Mark grabs my hand and we walk up to the bouncer. Bouncer say’s, “oh you guys need to stop right now. Everyone in the place can see you two are straight.” This gave Mark much confidence.

We walk in and there was a lot going on. I grabbed the girl I had just met and made my way to the bar, meanwhile Mark, my Sister, and various other friends got tables for the drag show. The girl and I come back with drinks for all and we start flirting and randomly making out. It was pretty cool, though her ex was there and was not pleased a pole had invaded her space. Anyways, Mark, the girl and I were standing with our backs to the last row of high top tables. Seated behind us, 5 very sharply dressed guys, obviously out for a good time.

The girl sits down and starts talking to our friends and I hear behind me the 5 guys discussing Mark’s ass. I leaned over to the girl and said, “if you want to see something funny, what happens after I talk to these guys.” I walked over to the table, introduced myself, and explained that I had over heard their conversation regarding the status of Mark’s ass. I went on to tell them that he is a close friend and he is very shy, if they wanted him to lighten up, he would need a few shots. They agreed.

Queue several trays of shots. I grabbed Mark and whispered, “dude, just go with me on this.” Now, if someone told me this, I would instantly question their motives. Not good ‘ol trusting Mark. He jumped in head first. I introduced Mark to the guys and we engaged in a psudo-flirting conversation. Went through 3 Patron shots and a fist full of whiskey, I decided that we were about to cross a threshold that no straight guy should cross. Girls, you know what I am talking about, the put up or shut up threshold.

We were all good and buzzed maybe slightly tanked. I looked at Mark, looked at my watch, and said, “hey Mark, what time is your girlfriend coming up bro?” Instant crickets. The guys looked at us and asked, “you guys are straight?” as if it wasn’t apparent. Well, maybe not apparent about Mark, but come on. I pulled what every guy has had happen to them: I thanked the group for the drinks, old them they were nice and that we enjoyed their company; however we need to get back to our friends. Bam! That. Just. Happened.

That is how I basically auctioned used my friends ass to get us (good) free drinks in the gay bar.

Music for a Monday

With all the discussion on Twitter (are you following justjptweet) about the VMA’s (I have not seen an actual video in years on that channel) I feel compelled to discuss some music. I really hate some of the commercialized music out there these days. I mean, Lady GaGa, what the fuck kind of name is that? Kanye West, is and always will be a whiny bitch. What happened to bands like Nirvana and artists like 2-pac and Biggie? Story tellers that had a sense that music was to be created and expressed, not just soullessly generated.

I am not a music snob by any measure, like my beer choices, it all depends on my mood. I used to say I only liked one type of music, but that was ignorant of me. From old country crooners to hard-core in another language, I like at all. So, below are some different artists that are a little off the grid, but are in heavy rotation on the ye ‘ol IPod. Check them out (all are safe for work). Also, let me know if there are any artists you feel I should chack out.

Rock en Espanol:

Molotov

Puya

Blues:

The Black Keys

R. L. Burnside

Samuel L. Jackson covering a R.L. Burnside classic

Folk/Indy:

Ray LaMontagne

Citizen Cope

Reggae:

Alborosie

10 Ft. Ganja Plant

Hip-Hop:

Hilltop Hoods

Rockabilly:

Tiger Army

Nekromantix

Reverend Horton Heat

You took the jam outta my doughnut!

As I drove into work this morning, I noticed something disturbing. In fact I have noticed this for quite some time, this morning it was just more focal. I am sure it had nothing to do with me stuck in traffic for 45 minutes or anything¹, at all. I was starring at a really large SUV with the following items stuck to the back window and body:

1. A sticker that depicted a boy playing baseball and the name Michael underneath.

2. A sticker that depicted a girl in with pom-poms and the name Summer underneath.²

3. A sticker that depicted 2 adult stick figures (male and female), 2 smaller stick figures all holding hands, and a picture of a dog and a cat.³

4. Multiple “ribbons” for the Navy, God Bless America, and some other one I could not readily make out.

5. 3 bumper stickers: 1 about how gay their honor student is, 1 about staying off drugs, and 1 about saving the enviroment.

This was all on the back of 1 vehicle. Now, I came to several conclusions about what I saw this morning, but the biggest one being: Mother EFF you! I do not care about all the aspects of your family. Obviously, you lead a very sheltered middle class life and it is everything I loathe about the present state of our fine country. You are probably the type of person that would ask me upon meeting me, “so, what do you do?” Yeah, the entire thing is out of control and here is why:

1. Something makes me think that your son will not be a professional baseball player. In fact, if he makes it to college, it would be a miracle. I highly suggest not driving by a Catholic Church any time soon with the blatant advertisement that you have a young impressionable son. Yes, that is what that sticker says; Chris Hanson would give you the same lecture. Could you imagine if he wrestled? Yeah…

2. Wow, basically you are telling the world that your daughter is a future member of the FHA.⁴ There are at least 100 college freshmen ready to thank you for the good time they will have with her at the frat house. Yes, in this case she makes it to college, only to develop a really bad and expensive coke habit. She would later meet a nice guy who has a soft spot for reformed hookers, they will have 3 kids and later he will leave her for some other cheap piece of ass.⁵

3. This one is pretty self explanatory. Who gives a shit? Seriously, wow, you and your partner have 2 fuck trophies⁶ and some stray animals along the way. I mean where is the creativity. If I was a hitman and had a contract out on these people, it would be too easy, plus I’d probably do it for free.

4. There are only 2 acceptable⁷ types of magnetic ribbons: The yellow for the troops and the Pink for the “save the ta-ta’s”. These 2 are compatible, because lets face it the troops need our support and who doesn’t like boobs? The troops like boobs, so you should support both.

5. Lets break this down piece by piece: Chances that your honor student stays that way, 1 in 5 and them’s is Vegas adds. Say no to drugs? Tell that to your daughter as she does a line off the make-up table⁸ back stage while the stage mom yells at her to get her skank ass on stage. Finally, you drive an SUV and concerned with the environment? Listen, I drive a town car and yell at little kids, it fits me. You are driving a suburban assault vehicle say’s “I am a massive hypocritical dick-knuckle.” Nouf said.

All in all, I support individual expression. Hell, even the really obnoxious Dolphins fans that cover their car in blue and orange. I get that. But this commercialized family image has me very lost. Hell, how can you support the modern family these days, I mean you can’t even beat your kids with a belt anymore. Please don’t even get me started about the over consumption of the “causes”! I am glad you support a cause, but the money you spent on that ribbon is probably never going to see that charity. Paulo at the flea market thanks you for your support.

I am not bitter⁹. I just want people to realize that there are some of us out there that would rather put the time and energy into the causes, rather than provide “fake help”¹⁰. Well, back to yelling at little kids and harassing the elderly.

1I really hate my current location with the passion of baby Christ, yanno before the Jew’s got all itchy with the crucifix.

2 Let your daughter pick her own stripper name, duh.

3How awesome would it be to see 2 male stick figures. That would mess up the Christian Collation.

4FHA- Future Ho’s of America

5Truly the American dream

6Fuck Trophy- Kids, but no one really wins in this situation

7Actually there are 3. The 3^rd is support strippers. Come on single moms need support too!

8Or the preferred method of doing a line off another strippers ass… I have said too much.

9Fuck that I am really bitter about sitting in traffic this morning.

10Where one say’s they will help, but never do anything productive, yet still take credit for the work done.

I got friends in low places… whores.

My friends never cease to amaze me. We all lead very different lives and typically hang out on the weekend, due to our messed up schedules. Well, I thought that my not drinking would possible alienate my friends, as we all go out together. Come to find out we are friends, because a real connection. We bust balls and talk shit, but thats how we show love. I have made it exactly 30 days with no alcohol being consumed.

I thought that it would have been harder than it has been, but really, its been very mellow. The above mentioned friends have been very supportive. Although Saturday, my friend brought over roughly 40 cases of beer (I am not kidding) the entire fridge (see below) was full on every shelf and drawer. So much beer that Chocolate Bear had to take half home with him. Speaking of CB, he kept pushing beer on me during the game, I love that guy. Ass.

The man cave is now complete

Though, a very special mention goes to Justagirl as she has been on the same plan as I. Her supportive words and threats of violence have kept me on track in this little adventure. Texting each other complaining that we want a beer or dear lord Baby Jesus, the Russian Standard bottle is talking shit and calling me a pussy again. She was there in a metaphysical sense to keep me in line. For that, I am grateful. On Friday, I will be joining her for our first beer in 35 days then tackling the Great American Beer Festival in Denver; one I thought I would never have the opportunity to go to. Lets just say, all around I am wicked pumped.

So, Friday I bail out for beer fest then jam down to the islands for a week. Next week a few special guests will be popping in and filling the void. Before I embark on this small adventure I would also like to thank my readers. Those that left positive comments or the occasional, “dude, whats wrong with you?” I totally appreciate your support as well. Just another small accomplishment that reinforces that I can do anything I set out to do. Cocky? Yes. Point proven to myself… Priceless.

Come on, go for the extra point!

If you follow me on Twitter you know bits of the story,so here is last night all rolled up:

Most weekdays I enjoy a nice ride on my bike. I typically do about 10 miles on several pre-planned course through the town. Yesterday was no exception, although I got a wild hair and decided to go for the long 17 miler. I have done it many times and really enjoy it. Seeing how I will be out of town I figured, why not go for it. Well, this is why:

1. I cannot find the mouth piece to my camel back system, meaning no hydration.

2. The head winds last night were like 15-20 mph and a total pain.

3. It was still 90 degrees outside.

So, I headed out because, well, lets just say a clean system, bored mind, and lack of sex, can lead any man to do stupid things. I am no exception. Everything was going fine until…

1. I was on mile 13 and can flying around a corner, power sliding around it, and popped my back tire. The slide was wicked awesome and I should have gotten a high five for it. Like in the movies kind of power slide, where you think the dude is going to wipe out, but totally doesn’t.

2. With the tire completely flat I was 4 miles from the house and decided to just suck it up and walk it off. Well, if you ever have rode long distances on a bike, you know your legs are like a combination of Goodyear and Elmers. As you walk, you notice your legs are all wobbly and your are moving at a snails pace.

3. Not kidding, took me like 30 minutes to walk home bike in tow. Pain in the ass.

4. Get to my front door, turn the handle, FAIL! My roommate locked the door as he left. So, there I was, bike, sweat, dry mouth, and a locked up house. What did I do? Of course I threw my bike and said everything the U.S. Navy had ever taught me.¹ My neighbor, who does not speak English (who is very hot btw) is just starring at me. I wave and say, “hola” and she waves back.

5. Find a knife in my car and proceed to use the skills I acquired back in high school.² Got in and guzzled a gallon of water.³

So, as I processed all of what had happened over the past hour or so, I decided I was too tired to be pissed. Seriously, I felt defeated.. Like Jonathan Phillips punted my goods for the extra point. I did text my roommate and tell him about the events and that basically he was a dick, but I wasn’t mad, but I should be. Oh well, I will make him drive me to the airport at 5:30 am on Friday as retribution.

1No, I was not in the Navy, but I would assume they have a very descriptive vocabulary for the profane.

2I went to a very ghetto public school. I learned how to break into houses and cars in my shop class courtesy of my class mates. Good skill to have when you lock yourself out.

3I really wanted a beer and a cigarette at this point though.

Check it

I have been reformatting some things around the Gospel lately. Check out the newly added “People I Read” page and discover some other bloggers that you may find interesting. If you are not on there and think you should be, Holla at me Shawty!

Deuces Beetches!!!

Peace to the East!

What up Beeetches!

I was going to write about an idea¹ I had about creating an urban drug Olympics, where you would take users of things such as meth, crack, pcp, and smack, and pit them against each other in competition. Think Cops², just more creative and an awards ceremony at the end; nothing amazes me more than a tweaker running from the cops.

Although the Junkie Olympics³ will not fully be discussed here today, something more important will be.

NA, NA, NAH, NA, NA I am going to Beer Fest!

Yes, my name is JP and I am five. If you have been reading for a while you may know I have been brewing my own beer for about 7-8 years and I keep getting better with ages.⁴ I have always heard about the Great American Beer Fest in Colorado, and have always wanted to go. I realize they charge too much and the cup they give you is pretty small, but you are also talking to the guy who drank Kona Brewing Company’s Pipeline Porter dry at the NOVA Brew Fest and got totally hammered with brass in the State Department; I love my friends.

Its not about the price or the size of your glass⁵ it is the Fest itself. To wander the isles checking out new and upcoming breweries or the old guard. The entire festival is broken into regions, so of course I have my plan of attack all mapped out. I am going to destroy the Pacific and Rocky Mountain sections, as we in the East, rarely get the chance to check them out. Don’t get me wrong, the East has many of my favorites, but the West is like the rare tuna you can only get at the pricey sushi joint you have always wanted to go to.

Anyways, my point is I am really excited about trying new things and having a well deserved good time. Next week I have some pretty awesome guests stopping by to season your melon with goodness. So, at the butt-crack of dawn tomorrow, I will be taking off to end my 35 days of sobriety and hopefully starting a new or at least different chapter in the Gospel of JP.

1Like all good ideas this one came to me while dropping a deuce the other day.

2I know you have watched. We all have watched at some point in our life.

3Its mine. You can borrow, but don’t steal.

4Can someone remind me to bottle the Saison I have fermenting in DC while I am there please?

5You totally were expecting me to reference my penis, I know.

Beauty is in the eye of… the creeper.

Hey kids of the JP Gospel! GingerMandy here… I’m the first of the week to terrorize JP’s space while he’s gone wherever the hell he is, so I hope I don’t let you guys down. It’s kinda nice over here actually… I’ll just make my way to the fridge and plop down on the couch. We all know he’s got good beer and this cheapass better have Cinemax…

And hey, note to my readers — be polite… take off your shoes. This is a safe place. And don’t shit on the floor. I don’t need you making me look bad.

Anypoop, I’m going to talk today about dating. Internet dating. We all do it… I don’t think there’s very many single 20something bloggers out there that have never tried the internet dating thing. We’re all kind of in our little bubble that makes us hate the regular sheep of society (OK maybe just me) so we rely on the internet to not only spill our thoughts, but hopefully find a partner. Whatever that partner is for may differ, but we’re all doing it.

I wrote awhile ago how I made a dating profile, and would occasionally discuss my interesting experiences, starting with the guy who drunk dialed me before we even had a date, the one that signed all his text messages Batman, and a few others. I guess when I think about it they haven’t been that bad… just… weird. Well, I got a little tired of the same stupid messages from the same idiots that don’t even bother to read your profile that clearly says “if you just say ‘hi how are you’ I probably won’t respond, so try to make your message somewhat creative and put a little effort into it,” and then send you a message saying “hi how are you today,” so I deleted it.

Then I realized I had no blogging material, so I made another one.

Yesterday I received this message:

…i could paint you ..yes i am an artist…i think i would enjoy your spirited values ……and wow ..i am older ..52..single and free..so perhaps sometime soon after we talk …we could hang out for a day……my self …i seek a friend ..a passionate young lover …a companion….a muse………may i ask ..do you paint or draw …since you like or have an interest in art…??..or would you like to learn..??..i hope that this will interest you ….please do send a reply… i would take it as an honor to paint you someday…..

……………………………..sincerely…..robert

First of all, holy ellipsis. Secondly, umm I don’t have a secondly, I just can’t get over the ellipsis. I’d love to have a conversation with this guy though, “Hi Mandyyyyyyyyy *5 second pause* Can I paint youuuuuuuuu *13 second pause* and so on. I bet he’s got a killer blank stare, too. HOT. Where do I sign up?

I couldn’t ignore this, so this is what I responded.

Hey there! So you want to paint me, huh? When you say paint me, do you mean paint a picture of me, or paint my body? Like painting clothes on me?

And this is what I got:

mandy…… of course i ment paint a picture of you………… i am a water color artist …………… let me question this have you been nude for an artist before….??….. it takes a strong women and open minded but you are too beautiful and could do this for me….?… it would be of a great honor… please let me know…… i would love to pose you and create an art of the work that is your body……………………. thank you……..

……………….robert

The “work that is my body.” It is work stuffing it with pop tarts and beer and mini bar burgers, I’m glad someone can appreciate it. This is my kind of art! So I responded with this:

No I have not been nude for an artist before, but let me ask you this…. if you paint me naked, are you going to include my stretch marks and scars? Or can you leave those out? I’d also like you to add some tattoos to the painting of me. I’d like a few more eventually and this would be a good place to experiment. Right?

No response.

Bummer, dude…. I was really hoping for a false nude photo of myself to put up on my dating profile. He could have helped my game.

So who wants to paint this ass?

My Poop Smells Like Poopourri

Well well well…Look who’s back…It’s me, the neurotic DCPrincess…

Last time I was here, I was drooling all over Zooey Deschanel because she is absolutely amazing. But today, I want to talk to you about something else.

I just wish I knew what that something else was.

See, I get all excited when someone says they’re looking for guest posters, jump the gun and then when the time comes, I have shit to say!

That’s it.

Let’s talk about shit! (Lexa, you might wanna skip this one)

See, I just spent 5 minutes of my life talking about pooping with the two sexy bitches I live with…and I think C is going to steal my pooping pose*. I’ll cut her if she does!

*ahem*

Speaking of my roomies, when I moved to this house, I discovered something AMAZING. You should definitely use it for your stinkiest poops**!

Spritz the bowl before you go...and no one else will know! (OK, this is SUCH a lie...)

So…poop. I’m sorry but does anyone else love taking a shit as much as I do?

Is that not the sexiest sentence you’ve ever read***?

I could end the blog here and let the shit hit the fan.

Why are women so afraid of pooping? Or talking about pooping?  Also, am I the only one that likes to take magazines/books into the bathroom when I know I’ll be there a while? (I meant the ladies…We know guys like that). At my parents’ place, I used to have magazines and books stacked up in the bathroom closet just for that purpose.

Sometimes though, I forget that the poop is done and just sit there on the toilet reading. What?! The books I read are GOOD! I forget about my butt sometimes…though I’m not sure how because it is HUGE.

The worst though? It’s the period poop.  Come on ladies…You know what I’m talking about…You have those awful cramps, the pain killers aren’t doing anything and you know the only way you can get a tad bit relief is by pooping. It’s painful, it’s frustrating and it sometimes ends up being the ‘ghost poop’ but it is oh so glorious.

Speaking of which, my cramps are getting worse…Oh, I should go before I fart in here and stink up JP’s home for the next guest.

*I may demonstrate at LiLu & Maxie’s wedding if I’m persuaded (re: drunk) enough.

**From their FAQ on the site:
Q: What about the gas that escapes?
A: While the product works great at eliminating bathroom odors, it is designed to trap and neutralize odors IN the toilet. If you experience residual smells due to gas, we suggest you spray Poo~Pourri lightly in the air after using the restroom. Be careful, oil overspray may cause slippery surfaces or damage to materials.
Q: What about floating waste matter?
A: By the way, this is the most commonly asked question by guys (go figure). Yes, it works great on floaters because as they penetrate the film they are coated. When they surface they are encapsulated with Poo~Pourri eliminating potential bathroom odors. No need to worry. (Heh, they said penetrate)

***Try not to faint from my sexiness guys. (See what I did there? Huh? Huh?)

A Pop Culture Intelligence Briefing

Before I start I have to be upfront with something.

If you couldn’t tell I’m not JP. In fact I’m not even half the man JP is (I read his blog and I’ll easily concede that.)

My name is Patrick and I write a little diddy called The Definitive Dmbosstone. I am a fellow blogger who lives in the DC area and I’ve pretty much been blogging before it was called blogging.

However this is my first guest post, so besides not knowing what to write about, what to title it, and how to start it I think I’m doing good so far.

So I’m really honored and humbled that JP is trusting his online home with me today, so on with the show.

What show? I’ll tell you what show.

Two weekends ago I was up in Pittsburgh visiting my friends Melanie and Jim. While I was I up there I took in a baseball game, watched a football game, and discovered where all the undergrads go to party. I also watched a lot of TV- something I don’t get to do when I spend all day producing videos and stage managing shows.

Given the nature of my busy life, I often lose touch with what’s going on in the world of TV and Pop Culture. Until that is, I rediscovered The Soup. I used to remember when The Television recap show was called Talk Soup, but sitting on Melanie’s couch watching Joel McHale’s humorous take on the latest in boob tube buzz was strangely cathartic. When we followed it up with Style’s knock-off show The Dish, I realized two things:

1. Danielle Fishel is still totally hot.
2. I wasn’t just watching TV, I was undergoing a Pop-Culture Intelligence Briefing.

Think about it, thanks to two shows that thrive on ripping the big buzz; I was getting caught up on what the big buzz actually was. After only an hour on the two half hour shows, I was all caught up on what I was missing when I’m not working or stage managing (which is pretty much all the time.) I also found it so interesting how the two shows are clearly similar: snarky commentators, CGI backgrounds, and canned laughter. While it sounds like a recipe for a crappy show, I actually enjoyed the snarkiness.

So does that mean The Soup and The Dish are going to become must watch shows on my list? Unfortunately not, I’m still too busy to watch any television.

But I want to say that after watching Community the other day, I think The Soup isn’t that bad and if you watch The Soup, you might as well watch The Dish- it’s like getting a double dose of snarky commentary on reality television.

Because you want to make sure you get caught up on all your TV right? Why watch it when you can get all the highlights!

Foxy Fridays…With A Twist

Hey hey y’all, this is Just A Girl up in the hizzy! Oh dear god I’m white. When JP told me he needed guest bloggers while he’s out of town, I immediately called Friday. Why? Because I knew it was the perfect opportunity to take over the Gospel and do something for us girls. Instead of the normal (sexy) ladies showing off their art, I’m flipping it around and showing you some fellas with kickass tats.

OHH JP YOU CAN’T STOP ME NOW!

Ahem. Anyway, since I AM molesting his blog, I thought I’d better start with our host. I got a chance to check out his work in person, and pictures don’t do it justice. It’s gorgeous. Unfortunately the pic he sent of his leg came through super tiny (sad face!)  but the boy is covered so it’s not like there was a shortage.

This might be my favorite because LOOK AT THE PUPPY! Oh, and nice tat too.

The surfing skeletons. This explains JP's taste in (body & wall) art right here. It also explains why we could never share a house.

Who's a pretty pretty princess?? Oh, and the girl's nice too.

All of my tattoos are plain old black, so I won’t lie, I’m totally jealous. Purty.

Now this next guy is my favorite and shut your faces if you don’t like dirty white boys. Courtni knows how I roll. Chris Andersen, call me?

This picture makes me drool, but his tattoos in this one sort of make me cringe. Thankfully he's invested in some MUCH better work.

The wings make me want to take off my pants and die. Also, duh, go Nuggets! Not that I'm biased or anything.

For those of you who like a prettier white boy, here’s some David Beckham. (I tried to pretend like I wasn’t into him but I’m totally lying.)

Oh hi David Beckham. What's that? You're gorgeous? Yeah, we know...

Make out with your face? Well, if you insist...

My only problem is that his tattoos? Kiiinda boring. So no more pictures. Google that shit on your own time. This next one is for Maxie, even though I almost threw up a little. Don’t get me wrong, A Milli is my jam (do the kids still say that?) but…

I love Lil Weezy but his face? Jesus.

So I totally wanted to put more pics on here, but, true story, all of a sudden my google image results were all full of penises. Tattooed penises, yes, but still limp, random junk and it was scary and I said “bluhhh” and shivered and closed google because for serious? The penis is not purty ESPECIALLY LIMP AND COVERED WITH A BETTY BOOP TATTOO. While I go scrub my eyeballs, tell me who I should have included or why Chris Andersen is awesome.

Annnnnd I am back!

I finally returned from Denver and the islands. A special thanks goes out to justagirl for her hospitality and showing me around town. I really had a great time and look forward to hanging with her and gingermandy on the way to the #pbandtuna wedding event of the century. Two important notes: my welcome back from sobriety beer was Kona’s Wailua Wheat Ale and the best fried chicken I have ever, ever, had in my life was from White Fence Farm; their chicken, corn fritters, and black bean salad combined with the beer, would be my death row meal. Write that down.

Beer Fest was epic! Once you make it past the mile long line that weaves through town, you come to beer zion. To quote Matt, “its like heaven!” We hit what seemed like 100 booths during our 4 hour power session. A few that stand out are:

21st Amendment Brewing (watermelon)

Sam Adams (Utopia)

Alaskan Brewing Company (smoked Porter and White)

Odell’s (Bourbon Barrel Stout, 5 Barrel Pale ale, St. Lupulin Extra Pale Ale)

Oskar Blues Brewing (Old Chub)

Kona Brewing Company (Pipe Line Porter and Wailua Wheat Ale)

Great Divide (Saison)

Some home brewers that were coming out with some phenominal brews. I had one chili infused beer that just blew me away, it was spicy and refreshing.

Then, I blasted down to the islands for work. I have to say, every time I go down there, I never get a chance to do too much. I did catch up with some friends, but pretty much just bounced between being seriously bored and then working my ass off. It did give me time to think about a lot though. Not sure how I am going to take that just yet, lot of life questions to be answered.

I also want to give a huge thanks to my guest posters that took care of things for me while I was gone: Gingermandy, DCPrincess, DMBosstone, and Justagirl.

Trippin in Babylon with a stumble, but not a fall…

Ever had one of those days when you wake up and your brain feels like lead and not due to a hangover? A day when all the thoughts of a week come crashing in on you? Where serious life choices are now at the forefront of the dome? That my friends is today for me. I feel twitchier than a meth head needing a fix and about as squirrely as a hooker waiting for their test results. Usually, I am pretty good about keeping my head together, but today I feel sorry for and apologize in advance to, all that talk to me. I do not make sense, yet I am methodical and calculating.

I have a massive decision to make and it needs to be made in the next few weeks. While stuck on the rock in the middle of the Caribbean, I about drove myself insane wrestling with this issue. Normally, I do not talk about my struggle with ADD nor do I even let it come up in conversation; however, today it has really taken the best of me. helpguide.org elequolently points out the main contention of this disorder, “while in children, hyperactivity is often displayed as constant squirming and moving, in adults it may be more of a constant feeling of restlessness and agitation. Extreme procrastination, disorganization, trouble making deadlines, and impulsive behavior is common. While most of us have challenges in these areas, someone with Adult ADD/ADHD has these problems constantly, in good times and in bad, and often to the despair of loved ones.”

They go on to say, “… there can also be positive traits associated with this condition. Impulsivity, boundless energy and the tendency to switch tracks constantly may manifest itself as creativity, flexibility, the ability to rapidly adapt to new information or tremendous drive and commitment. One trait common to ADD/ADHD is hyperfocus, the ability to focus intensely and exclusively on one specific problem to the exclusion of all else, which can lead to creative breakthroughs if harnessed.” The truth is endless in this statement! What they fail to mention is that your brain will become fixated and cycle in a loop, until you hav e driven yourself or everyone else crazy with the same thought process. This often makes for very awkward conversations.

I do have “the ability to focus intensely and exclusively on one specific problem to the exclusion of all else,” which is the soul root of my issue today. I cannot deviate from it. I haven’t slept in a few days and have been way off the reservation. I have briefly discussed this with someone I trust, but there is an underlying issue all in itself. I would never normally talk about this issue publicly, but for the sanity of others, I had to get it off my chest today.

If you do talk to me today and I seem a bit off or way too fucking intense, know it is not you. Know that I have to pull the trigger on something that scares the shit out of me and my struggle is a bit intense. For those reading this, the struggle is all positive, either thing I decide, it will still be a step in the right direction, maybe a bump in the road or two, but still on course.

Looking up

Thanks for the wonderful support and comments on my most recent psychosis. Truly, my decision is based purely on self betterment. Leave it to me to get all bent out of shape about good things happening. Blow up my house, lose my job, or girlfriend leaving, no sweat. I can deal. Make a choice on how to obtain a goal that has been just within my reach, you might as well tell me my dog died. It’s like what your parents would say to you when you broke something back in the day, “we just can’t have nice things!”

Moral of the story, is things will work themselves out and I just need to let it go. I am very thankful I have people cheering for me and especially thankful to have someone that cares enough to listen to my crazy and not judge. Good lookin’ y’all, good lookin!

For some reason the 3 songs below have been popping up in my IPod rotation quite a bit and eerily explains my life at this point:

Hilltop Hoods “Breathe”

In life, we struggle as individuals,
A fine line between a cliché saying and something original,
As if in death we left something residual,
Behind to mark our time up in this pitiful,
Existence and I’m a man of many issues,
If I ever dissed you, no disrespect I never wished to,
Hold a grudge the stress makes me act like this,
The day I get it off my chest I won’t write tracks like this,
But I’ll be bitter on them when all is done and is forgotten,
Cos it’s easier to sit and complain than fix the problem,
But the power of speech endowers our beliefs,
With sour defeats, man nothing is out of reach,
Got plenty to answer for, all do is answered back,
Done a thousand things I regret, apologize for none of that,
So you get back what you put in no regrets,
And keep on until they know your sweat, you only get.

Chorus
(We get)One chance, so I live for the moment,
I’m just one man what I wouldn’t give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die,
(We get)One chance, so I live for the moment,
I’m just one man what I wouldn’t give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die.
Now breathe in…

Now if life is what you make it it’s time to build,
Man I’m for real aint no telling what this life will yield,
I’m a career man, cos I career off any path,
That would lead me to a start of financial gains I’m scarred,
We learn from our mistakes, that makes me a scholar on,
Being a walking talking fuck up and a better man for being wrong,
I’m humble and loyal, my friendships are honored,
A mans success aint measured by the depths of his pocket,
I give good advice but never follow it, what’s left for me?
I’m a hypocrite and if I weren’t I’d be a success story,
View this wide world through a narrow gaze, these harrowed days,
Seen to many men end in a shallow grave,
I guess it’s better to have loved and to lost, than never stumbled across,
The gift of knowing you what ever the fucking cost,
To put it in perspective and under my vision,
This world is superficial; I’m done with others opinions.

Gnarles Barkley “Who Cares”

Basically I’m complicated
I have a hard time taking the easy way
I wouldn’t call it schizophrenia
But I’ll be at least 2 people today

If that’s okay

And I can go on and on and on… but who cares?

It’s deep how you can be so shallow
And I’m afraid cause I have no fear
And I didn’t believe in magic
Until I watched you disappear

I wish you where here

And I can go on and on and on… but who cares?

You see, everybody is somebody
But nobody wants to be themselves
and If I ever wanted to understand me
I’ll have to talk to someone else

Cause every little bit helps

And I can go on and on and on… but who cares?

Feels like… the surreal life
But it’s still nice
Wish I could live twice
but I still might
if these bones heal right
I see a little light
though it’s still night

Feels like… surreal like
But its still nice
Wish I could live twice
but I still might
if these bones heal right
I see a little light
though it’s still night

Kruder and Dorfmeister “Bug Powder Dust”

I always hit the tape with the rough road styles
You heard the psychdelic and ya came from miles
Keep my rhymes thick like a Guinness brew
So you could call me black and tan when I’m a wreckin’ a crew
I’m like Bill Lee writing when he’s in Tangiers
And now I’m on a soul safari with my Beatnik peers
Analog reel and a little distortion
Smokin’ on somethin’ s’you could say I’m scorchin’
I never been the type to brag but beware
I’ll make a man burn his draft card like it was hair
Send ya up the river like you lookin’ for Kurtz
I got the mugwhump jism up in every verse

I always hit the apple when I’m going to shoot
So you can call me William Tell or Agent Cooper to boot
Mr. Mojo Risin’ on the case again
So tell your mother and your sister and your sister’s friends
Like an exterminator running low on dust
I’m bug powder itchin’ and I can’t be trust
Interzone trippin’ and I’m off to Annexia
I gotta get a typewriter that’s sexier
My name is Justin and that’s all that’s it
And I’ll be spittin’ rhymes wicked like it ain’t for this shit
Houses of the Holy like Jimmy Page
But the song remains the same so I’m stuck in a rage
Just like Jane when she’s going to Spain
I think I’m going away tomorrow, just a fool in the rain
Light up the candles and bless the room
I’m paranoid, snow blind, just a black meat fool

Never been a fake and I’m never phony
I got more flavour than a packet of macaroni
Rock drippin’ from my every vowel
I’ve got the soul of the sixties like Ginsberg’s Howl
Shootin’ mad ball and I’m always jukin’
Take you to the hole and I’m surely hoopin’
Top of the pops like the Lulu’s show
I’ll take a walk on Abbey Road with my shoes of soul
I got a splinter though, damn, you know man it hurt
I got a Vegemite sandwich from Men at Work
I keep minds in line, but time sublimes,
So when you search you find something like a gold mine
A psychadelic meanderings in the poem
I got a patter, patter anyplace that I roam
Waiting for the sun on a Spanish caravan
Solar eclipse and I’m feeling like starin’ man

Who’s that man in the windowpane
Got somethin’ on his tongue and it’s startin’ to stain
Sho’ nuff equip so wop n’get down
Step up on my ladder and you’ll get beat down
Hash bar style so I’m singin’ day glow
Wakin’ up the dead like Serpent and the Rainbow
Jeff Spicoli roll me another hay
The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh with Dr. J
Shockin’ your ass like a faulty vibrator
Hear me now, but you’ll probably get the vibe later
Who knows where the wicked wind blows
Que sera sera just leave it alone
Great space coaster toast up the town ?????
Makin’ midgets with my man Dr. Shrinker
Pass the hookah, throw down the pillows
Cloth on the ceiling, blow rings that billow
Kick off the shoes and relax your feet
Now roll up your sleeves for this lyrical treat