Category Archives: Friends

And I bid you Adieu!

It has been a few months since I have posted, well, anything. There is a good reason for this and let me splain youse…

I moved to DC with a hierarchy of goals in mind and at the top of my list graduate school. So, pulled the trigger and moved. Made to the Deez C and hit the ground running. I have now been in the town for a few months and embarked on the psychotic journey that I call my life. I now work 40 hours a week at a job where I do not have internet or the ability to communicate with the outside world, needless to say, I will be finding a new job. I am also taking 3 graduate courses, to include weekend classes as well. Yes, my life is a bit off the chain right now. As I type this my roommates are moving out and I have to find a new joint closer to the city, as well as finding a new car due to the Wolverine incident.

Just JP

I started this blog as a way to keep writing, so not to lose any edge while waiting for classes to begin. Now that I am balls deep in school, I am going to cut this space loose. I enjoyed having an outlet and a place that I can rant, rave, and basically let me be me. I have met some awesome people through this blog and some crazy ass people too. It all comes with the territory I guess. All in all I would not trade it, nor would I do anything different.

JP

I feel this blog was only one side of myself, the nonsensical side, and I am glad that you dropped by to share in it. I would like to leave you with these parting words:

This will be my last confession,
Liberty can leave harsh impressions,
I have little faith forgive me for my past discretions,
But we live and learn that history and past are lessons,
Ive always played the hand I was given,
No exceptions here humanitys driven,
You see all men are born equal, just the standard of living,
That differs between the Jewish, Adriatic and Christian,
Im a logical man given to science,
Forgive me I know religion inspires,The day this is work the love of it dies, A handful make it, the others will strive,
And hunger can drive hatred but such is just life,
I guess jealousys the curse that the struggle inspires,
These critics seek to break and divide,
I know Im bitter but my faith is divine,
Take it in stride yeah I act like I hate it at times,
But I found love through this music and a place to reside,
For every friend I have an eager opponent,
For every cent I spent on meager components,
I gave something back so I dont feel the need for atonement,
Cause we all get our hands dirty when were seizing the moment.

Again, thanks for coming by for the past year or so! Be sure to keep up with me on Twitter, JustJPTweet, so you can keep up with my insanity. If you see me on the streets, just say hi to a guy named JP.
For all the ladies heartbroken and seeking a male perspective on things, check out my friends:

Don’t forget to check out everyone else too!

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Filed under Booze, Foxy Friday, Friends, Life, Non-Sense

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]

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

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

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

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

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Doing what he does best

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And I am done...

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


[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.

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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….

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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!!!

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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

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.

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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!

TMI Thursday

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…

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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!

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