Below are the 19 most recent journal entries recorded in dubzilla55's LiveJournal:

Tuesday, February 15th, 2005
9:32 pm	Reflections Of The Way Life Used To Be...... How often do we take things for granted? Yeah, I don't know what I've got until it's gone. I'm just scratching the surface and it's getting me nervous. Why do I feel involuntarily awkward at the drop of a hat? Are questions really the answers? I need a release and since I'm alone and I don't feel like making a phone call, you are it. Am I neurotic or introspective? Is my fear spread out or collective? It's building up and it's not gonna go away, what else do I really have to say? Double dare me, I'll take the physical challenge. But why does it have to involve the green slime in the kiddie pool? Because I wouldn't want it any other way. A childhood filled with ignorance, that's all it is. Nobody tells you the truth until it's too late. And if they don't tell you, it's even worse when you discover it for yourself. Yeah, there's hypocrisy everywhere you look, but nobody likes a whiner and complainer. Why do you care anyway? That's what they say, pick your battles, it's not worth the agony or the ecstacy. So what you gonna do about it, tell me what you're gonna do? Pop is hype and rock is hot air, bang your head and shake your derriere. Light as a feather and stiff as the motherboard, the good ship lollipop taking a pleasure cruise deep inside of an apple core. Yeah, we're on a road to nowhere, but even that has to be somewhere, anywhere, anywhere but here but have we already arrived? You'll just have to wait and see. Impatience will eat away at your fingernails while injustice prevails. But everything is gonna be alright as long as the music takes over your soul. The beat drops and the flip flops, waivering in the breeze before the wind dies. Babies smile because they don't know better and a grown man cries as an honest man lies. The truth is on the loose and it's running away like a stray cat doing the strut. This train though ain't bound for glory, it's bound for the dog pound where the brotherhood will whoop it up Arsenio Hall style. Come together forever, it will be a moment you'll never remember yet always forget. Mixed up in a blender next to the loin that's tender, a tie that binds to a blade of grass mowed down by a lineman with a heart of glass. Ice water be ruining through his momma's veins as she recalls her vacation from peeling plantains. It's bigger than her body of work and sweeter than the elixir served by a soda jerk. Trade in that straitjacket that shackles you down and raise up, take your shirt off and twist it around like you're singing power ballads wielding your parasol. The palm of your hand is an extension of your road map yet the colors fuse and your destination lies outside the lines. The shadow box isn't black or white, it only comes in shades of earl grey. It's time to tip your kettle and let it whistle while you go through the motions. Keep convincing yourself that everything you know is correct because baby, you're on the right side of wrong where all that belongs remains strong. Roll with the punches and take one for the team as once you get singled out, all you have is all that you need. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, February 11th, 2005
7:02 pm	Stupid Quizzicals You Are the Individualist 4 You are sensitive and intuitive, with others and yourself. You are creative and dreamy... plus dramatic and unpredictable. You're emotionally honest, real, and easily hurt. Totally expressive, others always know exactly how you feel. What number are you? I don't know about the drama part, but if I took more of an active less laid-back role in the personal friendships and relationships that I have maybe there would be more drama. I don't need the drama, I'm better off one-on-one although I welcome being in the company of others. Any number larger than 4 getting together usually spells enough difference in opinion for drama. I am expressive, but do other people know exactly how I feel? Am I that predictable? I will say that I am dreamy such a dreamboat. Yeah, go back to being humble about yourself, Johnny. You Belong in 1978 1978 If you scored... 1950 - 1959: You're fun loving, romantic, and more than a little innocent. See you at the drive in! 1960 - 1969: You are a free spirit with a huge heart. Love, peace, and happiness rule - oh, and drugs too. 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all! 1980 - 1989: Wild, over the top, and just a little bit cheesy. You're colorful at night - and successful during the day. 1990 - 1999: With you anything goes! You're grunge one day, ghetto fabulous the next. It's all good! What Year Do You Belong In? I agree that when I do something, I do give it 157 percent. Maybe I am the 1970s which would be a combination of the two other decades I thought I would have been stuck in, the 1950s and the 1980s because I am the perfect combo of innocent and cheesy. I Like the Way You Move by Outkast "There, there on the dance floor Now they got me in the middle Feelin like a man whore" You've had better years, but you're still feeling fine! What 2004 Hit Song Are You? The accuracy of this one is uncanny. Yes, I do like the way I move, too. The way you move is pretty damn good, too. I wonder if I could make a morally honest career out of being a man whore without appearing shallow or hypocritical. Yeah, I doubt it, I'll just stick to being the best Johnny D that I can be. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, February 10th, 2005
2:04 pm	Crazy Days Ahead February may be the shortest month of the year, but it is a highly eventful one at that. Most people don't pause to reflect upon our presidents because Lincoln and Washington were born around the same time. I must reflect upon my parents because they were both born within two weeks of one another in this month. Hell, me and my sister were born on the same day within two hours of one another. You got Valentine's Day in the middle of the month. I've never been in a relationship on Valentine's Day so I've never had to worry about getting someone special a gift outside of family and friends little trinkets to observe the holiday. I don't see the point on going out on that night anyway, it is so hackneyed, it's tough to find a romantic restaurant because all of the reservations are taken early on those ones. So why not give a gift on that day and then go out and celebrate it a week earlier or a week later. Makes a hell of a lot more sense to me. Off to go and do one of my favorite things (hooray for sarcasm), shopping (for the folk's birthday gifts) and hopefully it won't snow/sleet/hail/whatever precipitation reigns on the region too too bad. I don't even want to think about doing my taxes, I give that a good couple of weeks. I'll probably wait until March Madness kicks in. Where have all the happy months gone? Maybe April or May will be awesome with the Red Sox and awesome baby making weather. Yeah because fertile married women want to pop out kiddos in bunches. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 1st, 2005
7:17 pm	Where's My Pizza? When I used to go to ECW wrestling shows back when I was in high school at haunts such as the Wonderland Greyhound Dog Track in Revere and the IBEW Hall in Waltham, there was this one chant that always riled up the Italian folk in the crowd. Apparently, they have no sense of humor. There was this group of wrestlers or stable known as the FBI or Full Blooded Italians. I would join in some fans and chant "Where's My Pizza?" at these bad guys. The Italian fans took offense and thought of it more as a stereotype than a joke. Me, personally I wasn't alluding to the fact that pizza originated in Italy. I was voicing my dislike for the group by saying that they are so bad, they should be delivering pizza. For me, it had nothing to do with their ethnic origin. The comedy of it all is that only one guy in the group was Italian, the others were Southern and one guy was black. The Italian guy was barely a shred over 5 foot anyway. A couple of years later before ECW folded due to lack of sufficient funds, there was another contigent of wrestlers that exacerbated and incited both the stereotype and the audience's heat or negative response to said ethnic generalization. This group was called The Baldies and they were basically playing your typical inner city Italian mob-like street thugs. Nobody was saying "Where's My Pizza?" to these guys. I recall one of the guys in the group, Big Vito. This man had little to no hair on his head, the hair he had was shaved off. He had an early gimmick or character known as Skull Von Krush which was a take off on Baron Von Raschke and the other old time German wrestlers who used submission holds to beat their opponents such as the 'Claw' later popularized by the late great Texas Tornado Kerry Von Erich of the unlucky Texas wrestling clan dynasty (I believe only one of like 8 or 9 of the father/son unit is still alive). At any rate, Big Vito or Skull Von Krush or whatever you want to call him would spit at the most rabid of hater fans including one or two of my friends. Enough with the wrestling tangents, it made me feel better to go down memory lane. I had a day of unfortunate events, let see how long this discussion about myself lasts, I hate talking about myself. I already know the outcome, why must I relive it? Well, I had a good hangover from Monday Night Margaritas at Applebee's. I was the Lone Ranger on the evening, at least I got a good picture of my cheeseburger on my cameraphone, makes for cool wallpaper. Then things started to turn on me on Tuesday morning. Let's see, my car wouldn't start, I guess my battery needed some peppering or some juice. So I needed to get a jump, I'm glad my mother could give me a jump. So I'm running late for work and The Fore River Bridge is up, again. Hell, it goes up even when they don't announce it. It goes up at the absolute worst times causing inane traffic jams on Route 3A in Quincy and Weymouth. It was up last night when I left work at 5. I didn't leave until 5:30 because this opening of the bridge was announced. So I like every other smarty tried going around the Quincy Shipyard into Braintree and Weymouth Landing. Then there's the traffic coming onto 53 from 18 and the highway in about 87 different directions. What is usually a 5 minute ride turned into a 45 minute ride? I was in no mood to play hoop that night. Anyhoo, it was up at noon on Tuesday as well. So I go around again, I'm already running late so I make it to work about 15-20 minutes late. Then I find out, we are short staffed, what's new. I need a new job, I'm looking, the market is bad, I'm debating my next move in the process. So I'm stuck with a couple of has beens who are rusty. People don't realize that even though my job is menial and if you train a chimp, he could do it, but it is mentally draining. You have to always be on, you have to put up with people, you have to think for people, I end up carrying my co-workers on my back often times because if I don't, I'm only amplifying the cost cutting measures that come with a lack of help and too many customers. Demand exceeds supply, most people are nice, but there are enough people that are difficult and rude not to mention lazy. Yes, people that don't know how to read a cook book, use a stove or even a microwave or hell, go get take out or eat at a restaurant. So, it's enough to balance the work load from customers in front of me, customers who use machines on their shopping carts around the store and try to check everything well stocked and clean. All that, for a freaking sandwich, ahhhh bermulloch! I worked out, ran two miles up a steep incline on a treadmill, did some crunches and worked out various muscle groups on the imation 'Bowflex' bought at a yard sale. Once I figured out how to unhook and reset the rigs, it's a piece of cake. I even made up some of my own exercises to work some of my muscles. I get a good workout for one of my arms on the slicer, but I like lifting stuff and doing unorthodox or natural methods to working my muscles. I do enough walking around to get my cardio vascular so I like to run every once in a while to attempt to burn the fat. Well, I get sugar in my Gatorade which quells my drinking spats every now and again. Some people would say I drink too much, but I have control over myself. I didn't get drunk this weekend, that was 3 sober days, I can check myself before I wreck myself. I'm babbling, but before I go. You know how people complain about junk e-mail. I'm tired of junk postal mail. 70 percent of the mail that I get is complete junk, the other 30 percent is either bills, catalogs, newsletters or periodicals. Most of that junk mail says on the envelope "PLEASE DO NOT DISCARD". So what is the first thing I do when I see that, I politely chuck in into my trash receptacle. Why because they asked me nicely to obey them and I didn't feel like listening to them? That and because I know they are trying to exploit me with the credit offering. Hell, you could have 0% APR for the rest of your life if you just keep switching from creditor to creditor, you'd just have to worry about paying off your balance, but you'd have 197,000 credit cards. I once saw a guy in tabloid who had an overcoat which he opened up not to reveal himself nude like a streaker would, but to showcase all of his credit cards. At any rate, you figure your mailings don't reach me or get my attention, so you try the phone route with the telemarketing approach. That don't jive with me either, those people may have a more thankless job than I do. Don't you just dig long paragraphs like you would Purplesaurus Rex Kool-Aid? That was one big entry, if it was money, it would be a pimp's bankroll. That ain't no scratch, don't "Georgie" me or I'll take you for a "Murphy". Yeah, I'm reading a book I got for X-Mas about the story of the life of a pimp. Once you understand all the jargon, it's a smoother read. Oh yeah, I forgot, the bridge will be up at 4:30 on Wednesday when I leave work. But it's cool, I'll probably just go to a bar for happy hour in Quincy square and wait that shit out. But it's all good, I got two days off on Thursday and Friday. I get to do errands, plan out my attack for food and liquor for the Super Bowl on Sunday (I expect not to work that hellish day) and hopefully get to see some peeps I haven't seen in a while perhaps if things work out. That's all I got for now. Current Mood: okay Current Music: The Streets - Dry Your Eyes, Mate (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, January 29th, 2005
9:37 pm	A Burger Would Be Really Good Right Now They say as you get older, you become more and more mundane as well as boring and any other lame adjective that you can think of. Well, I just turned 25 at the start of the year and I'm having the time of my life. I'm feeling better about myself as a whole. I still have some of my lingering personality quirks, but hey, do I really want to compromise my character? That's what makes me so fun to be around. At times, I can be cool, calm and collected and I'll just lay low and listen. Other times, I'm vibrant and hilarious as well as gregarious in a mass group of people also enjoying the moment. The more and more people learn about me, the more surprised and delighted they are. That's why I am an acquired taste, you can never get that much off of a first impression anyways. I don't really like to talk about myself that much. I'm pretty humble, that's why. And also I fear that eventually, I'll become neurotic enough to hit my mid-twentysomething crisis. I'm learning the quality of restraint. I often like to do things excessively, but within reason. I'd call it more of an overblown moderation. I know how to hold my emotions back, but I'm trying to release them, but hold back some of my actions. I know what my mind is capable of, other people on the other hand, what are they thinking? I know I shouldn't really care what they think about me, but it is important to a degree. Yeah, I'd say that their opinion of you is something that you should hold in high regard. People often hold that back if it is negative just because they are being polite. It may be a case of shooting from the hip versus delaying the inevitable. You end up finding it all out eventually before it is all said and done. Enough with the ballyhoo, let's make some generalizations. There's popular consensus then there is mass unappeal. Put them together, you got what I like to call, the 50/50 club. These are public figures that either you totally despise or you can't get enough of. I'd say that President George W. Bush and Jessica Simpson would be card carrying members of this club. Honorable mentions go to Paris Hilton and Arnold Schwartzenegger. I got the Super Bowl fever, it's an unofficial holiday. There's something for everyone whether it is football or the commercials. It should be a fun day with the Patriots involved. I can't wait to get tipsy then, woohaa. Yeah, I didn't eat anything before going to work today. Therefore, I craved some good quick food during the afternoon. I had an inkling for a hamburger and I was near a Wendy's so I went buckwild on a value meal. The Big Bacon Classic never looked so good to me in a long time. It was rather tasty and it went through me like out of control canoe in some whitewater rapids. But it was worth it, yeahaa. That's all I got, that's what I like to call an update. Hopefully, I have more real soon, cross your pinky fingers for that one. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, December 2nd, 2004
11:23 pm	Where Am I? Sorry for the lack of an update, I've just been contemplating the center of the universe being made of tapioca pudding way too much for my own good. They should change the name of Thanksgiving to "Hey, That's My Dysfunctional Family". Can't we all just get along while we laugh at our own faux pauxs. Some people learned a new word watching Final Jeopardy and they know now that I am like many scholars and Jeopardy champs that I am 'erudite'. Go look it up, while you do that think about the fact that Ken Jennings finally lost on Jeopardy. I think he threw the match, he missed two Double Jeopardys and Final Jeopardy. You've probably heard that news. Because the way news is in my opinion, if you were meant to know about it, someone who actually watched the news or read the paper will let you know about it in passing or in smalltalk. There's no need to watch the news religiously, it is everywhere and on all of the time and it's the worst show on television. It is full of either stuff I could care less about or information that is startling and depressing. Sure I don't expect it to be all about clowns and unicorns, but then again that shit eating grin that the overpaid news personality delivers the news with I guess is all the happy you all need. Jumbled thoughts, woo haa! Current Mood: Yeah That Song Be Cheesy Current Music: Joey Lawrence - Nothing My Love Can't Fix (For Ya Baby) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 16th, 2004
4:29 pm	Bartlett has got nothing on this, but half eaten pears? Bartlett may have his own book of quotations, but he ain't got nothing on Presidente Tyler. No, not the dude who ruled the country with Tippecanoe, the plick that can't get enough of my journal entries. I'll will give him his due with a quote of his from the other day, but before I do that, I must spout off more about Bartlett. The only person I've ever met with the last name Bartlett was at my first higher learning institution, Northeastern. That was the year where I discovered that I can cut loose more and think more outside the box than the walls of that box will let me. This Josh Bartlett character was the epitome of the shameless unoriginal cliche. From York, Maine had what I like to call the Bartlett Factor. The 3 Tenets Of The Bartlett Factor revolve around the fact that he had captured the essence of a professional bowler. He had the physical look, the attire and the attitude of a bowler. Slighty portly, but comfortable adorned in hideous short sleeved print patterned shirts with baggy shorts. A mop of dirty blonde hair with an unkempt goatee on his face, this fellow thought he was the king shit, but he couldn't think for himself. But he was the Triple Threat that is The Bartlett Factor. You may know someone that is so confident in themselves they don't realize that they are unassumingly lame. They don't have to look like a bowler, they could look like a tire salesman or a drama queen, it doesn't matter the archetype that they fit, they just make you shake your head in wild wonder. I leave you with the whole inspiration for the post. The words of only person who proudly wears a old Jeff Blake Cincinnati Bengals jersey with intense pride like he won it in a church consignment raffle. Taunton's own Tyler that is and he may tell you that he's studying biomechanics at an Ivy League school, but the closest he ever got to the Ivy was the Poison Ivy movie trilogy. This is what he has to say about Wachusett Blueberry Ale and I might be paraphrasing......... "Me and the misses (some gal of his) are enjoying that tasty treat, it is scrumptelescent" Is that even a word, son. I'm too lazy to look it up, but regardless, I'll start using it in my everyday vernacular/lexicon. I got a couple of songs on the horizon, buckle up kiddos. Ahhhh, Bermulloch!!!!!!!!!!! Current Mood: thankful (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, November 14th, 2004
11:34 pm	That's Comedy Chris Rock is a funny fellow, I caught some of one of his stand-up specials the other day. This quote really hit home: "As hard as you try, you're not gonna meet a girl that likes both Seinfeld and Wu-Tang Clan. And if you do by chance, she'll have a boyfriend at the time." If you are the female anomaly that fits this quote, not only will I give you my phone number, I'll give you a decoder ring I got out of a Cracker Jack box and then maybe we can make out behind the bleachers. Current Mood: dirty (2 Comments |Comment on this)
10:53 pm	National Security, How Do They Get The Pigs In The Blanket? I stumbled upon this link a friend sent me from Howard Stern's website. They took data from a study compiling the average IQs of every state in the US. They then took into account who their constituents elected in the 2004 Presidential Election. It was mind boggling, the top 16 states based on mean IQ elected John Kerry and the bottom 25, half the states in our country, the dumbest half elected George W. Bush. The dumbest state in the country is Mississippi. The only state that requires a catchy jingle to help you spell its name. Forrest Gump should've been from Mississippi. I honestly think electing the leader of our country has become more of an image thing. That's what a nation is now all about, how you look. No wonder the country is obsessed with their appearance. Skinny people, fat people, ugly people, beautiful people, smart people, dumb people, everyone needs a hook, a gimmick. People have become cariacatures. That's why so many fuckers want to be on reality shows, they love seeing themselves. If they could surgically weld a mirror that dangles a foot above their heads and it dropped down, I reckon these people would do that. We are a nation of idiots who proclaim to desire all the same things in the ones that we love. A good sense of humor, intelligence, a kick ass personality, muscles, abs, tits, ass, etc.. Nobody ever desires someone with prominent elbow grease. Hard work is a catch-22, it can get you everywhere or it can perpetuate stagnation. Likability is what people want in their President, they can be a C- student, an aging actor who believed the space program could be like Star Wars, a peanut farmer that cares about humanity or a lecherous dirty old house husband, but as long as you're cool, people won't have to leave their nightlight on when they go to bed. I guess that's why they call our Commander-In-Chief, the face of the nation. Fuck I wouldn't be surprised if Tom Hanks went into politics someday, people would vote for the guy because they liked his work in The Burbs. Current Mood: morose (3 Comments |Comment on this)
10:31 pm	I Am What You Say I Am, A Bowl Of Dinty Moore Beef My name is John Donaldson, you may or may not know that. If you do, I'm glad I refreshed your memory, if you didn't, you just learned something new about me. It's not like you learn everything from my sporadic Live Journal offerings. I'm sure most of you have entered your name as a query on any popular search engine such as Google, Ask Jeeves, Dogpile, etc.. I don't remember doing this, but I just did it and there are hundreds of thousands of references to people who have my name. I know John is a pretty common first name, but I never realized that the last name Donaldson was such a worldwide phenomenon. If you break it down, it is the son of Donald, at least in the annals of Scotland, it's King Donald. People assume character traits in an odd form of escapism on the Internet all the time, but if you really wanted to keep your own name, you could. I could be a number of people, dead or alive. I did searches for John and Johnny with my last name. My name is more famous than I ever thought it would be. I am an obscure yet highly respected chess master living in California who has written many books about chess. I am also a building contractor and a prolific poker player from Monticello, Arkansas who has appeared on the World Poker Tour airing on The Travel Channel. I'm also a surfer in San Diego with a couple of kids as I approach being over the hill, but I'm too cool for that, I hang ten and shoot the curve. I was also a professional baseball player in two different leagues. I was a mediocre scrub on in the 1960s and 1970s who played for the Kansas City Athletics and Seattle Pilots while having my cup of tea in the Major League Baseball. I was also a legendary fireballer in the Negro League often playing in various locales in Minnesota in the 1920s and 1930s who dazzled opposing batters with every type of pitch notching multiple 15+ strikeouts including many 19 and 20 strikeouts games as well as striking out 23 batters a 13 inning tilt along with no-hitters and perfect games to boot. I was also a great hitter in every city I played in along with the pitching, in one town I pitched 23 out of the 25 games they played that season, notching 212 innings and a 20-3 record. The manager of the New York Giants baseball club said I'd be worth 50,000 dollars if not for the racial barrier that segregated the US at the time. I'm also a number of college professors worldwide. Amongst the schools I have lectured at include a school in Tasmania, Columbia Business School, The Ohio State University, Cal State Fresno and Oberlin College. I am also historically significant as I was an captain in the U.S. Air Force or Air Service as they called it during World War I. I flew many planes, was involved in some crazy battles with 7 air victories and I was captured and escaped as a prisoner of war many times. Going back a bit, I came over from Northumbria, England to the colonies in The New World and got situated as a land owner in the Carolinas. I would then serve in the Revolutionary War as a colonel of my militia. I also served during The Civil War as a private who was a book binder from Boston drafted at age 33, but I never received my furlough so I deserted the war somewhere in the deep South. Did I mention that I was a parachutist for the English troops during World War II spending time of service in Palestine? Did I also mention that I gave away my beautiful daughter's hand in marriage to the Crown Prince Of Denmark? I shed tears as I gave my speech on that glorious day. You should try this yourself, it's a lot of fun unless your name is Apple Martin or Asswipe Johnson. Hell, anyone with the last name Moore should name their kid Dinty because it would provide your child with job security, spokesperson for Dinty Moore Beef Stew. Plus, you yourself would get a shitload of beef stew. Current Mood: quixotic (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 9th, 2004
9:27 pm	Staring fear in the face while it wears the mask of Jushin Thunder Liger I thought it was safe to go on the Internet. Well, I was somewhat naive and I was wrong. Around every corner there's something ready to feast upon me like I'm prime rib or a big wad of tofu if you are a vegetablarian. I know, that sounded so improper, well I'm uncouth, deal with it. I just bought Season 1 of Arrested Development on DVD. I'm telling, if you haven't seen or heard of this show, get up off your couch and go check it out. Freaking hilarious, a great ensemble cast. You want to make a great TV show nowadays, you need an ensemble cast. Or otherwise, the television landscape is gonna be filled with reality and/or game shows. And I love them too, I just like variety. Checking out The Rebel Billionaire, Richard Branson of Virgin Worldwide, this guy is nucking futs. And these reality show contestants, I swear these people are all heart or no soul. The Applebees Margarita isn't quite perfect, it's pretty damn good though. I haven't taste enough margaritas to pass that seal of approval. Maybe I have issues with that adjective. I don't know if anything is quite perfect, I can find a flaw in anything. Just as long as I'm able to embrace the mistake, it's all gravy on mashed potatoes. I know one cat that doesn't like gravy on their taters, I also know another one that doesn't anything but cheese and condiments on their burger and the pickles on the side. People want it their way, capitalism in its purest form. I know a lot of cats figuratively speaking, they aren't felines, they are people, I'm allergic to pet hair, but I've been able to deal with it like I have with people. People are strange, but their personality quirks interest me, that's character and you can't fake that. And this coming from someone who thinks 'pulled pork' is an awkward meal offering. I got nothing profound to speak of right now, I just hope to maybe rhyme in time in the future because I got to bring the funny at some point, now just isn't the right moment. Oh I forgot, "You'reGodDamnRight" called me up in daze late last night, early this morning. You know what, you are a funny bastard, go have a slice of pizza for me, I know you have the munchies. I'm gonna go figure out what recumbent means. I think it's a good thing based upon the smiley next to it, but I could be wrong. I'm surrounded by liars and the ugly truth is a minority. Welcome to Millenium City where your dreams are nightmares and fish is a pony. I know that didn't make sense, do I ever make sense, can a pet shop sell root beer? Why yes, it can do whatever the blue hell it wants because blue hell is the inverse of red hell, you don't mind taking a long walk off its short pier on a vacation you won off of the game show that is your life. Will you ever learn? I failed to mention Friday Night at Ring Of Honor. I'll save that for another time when I feel like waxing poetic about going to wrestling shows. It's not always about journaling about the sport of kings. It's about me and this is what you get. You can wait, while you do let me just say one thing: YEAH, WRESTLING (while holding my thumb upward). Current Mood: recumbent Current Music: Life Is A Highway - Tom Cochrane (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 2nd, 2004
12:47 pm	All Alone In The Polling Booth You know what really gets me, that every celebrity is coming out of the woodwork and encouraging me to vote. This also includes them fuckers that lost on them reality shows, I don't have a problem with you telling me the blade to use when I shave, but voting, I don't know. It's not like you have to be an expert to make a public service announcement, that's proof positive with NBC's The More You Know campaign. It's voting day and I continue to question the power of my one vote. Do I matter if I don't agree with the majority? We saw in the 2000 Presidential Election that one candidate can get the most total votes, but lose in the electoral college. The electoral college is a flawed system, there is no one tried and true system to count votes and often times, people waste their votes by making uninformed choices. I don't have a problem with people that don't vote, that's their choice. I have a problem with the lies, bullshit and hypocrisy that is our political system. I am a horrible liar maybe that's the reason I hate politics so much. I am a harmless teaser because it takes one to know one (sensitive youth), but lying isn't my forte. Maybe I hate politics because I have no interest in the issues. I don't read 10 newspapers a day or watch the news that often (too much negativity, I'm not compelled by tragedy). I find that if a piece of news or a current event really matters, some random person who cares will let me know all about it in some inane conversation that we have where we run out of valid things to talk about. Whatever you may think of me or think that I am, you aren't exactly right or wrong, you may not even be close. Hell, I don't even think that I have enough information to answer the question so I'll go with none of the above. Sometimes it is good to interrupt people, just a thought. Back to politics.... Politicians can't relate to me. I'm not part of a special interest group or a cross-section of the general public that has an impact on the beneficial ballwashing that they take a part in. By the time the government cares about the youth and/or the 18-29 demographic, I'll be too old to be young. We are all growing up way too fast. What happened to the 1980s? When the only thing that I had to worry about was the kids making fun of me because I was a geek/nerd and I was an easy target. When macaroni and cheese was a staple of my diet. When the only time cartoons were on for a block of time was Saturday mornings. When rock and roll was commensurate with the amount of Aqua Net in your hair. When jamz were the bomb. That's all I got. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, October 31st, 2004
12:50 pm	It's Over Today is the last day of Johntoberfest. It's sad, but I had some good times and great memories. There was getting 2nd row seats for SmackDown by winning a contest where I took my shirt off and impersonated Macho Man Randy Savage for Jam'N 94.5 after getting kicked out of 'family-oriented' Hooters. There was the night when the Red Sox clinched the ALDS in extra innings on a David Ortiz bomb where I drank 16 assorted beers in the matter of a couple of hours playing stupid drinking games like beirut ending up lying on a couch with my legs up in the air. Then there was the night where I ended up eating Lifesavers off some Asian bride-to-be's white T-shirt then writing my e-mail address on the shirt so I could get the digital photo from her Seattle native friend at The Big Easy in Boston (where's that picture, I never got it, oh well). Then there was drinking yards of Killian's at King Dick Flair's Faire in Carver (a good time to get lost in medieval shit like you were a kid at Disney World, never a moment not to smile even if it's not your thing, it's fun). How about the ALCS where the Red Sox did the unthinkable and came back from an 0-3 deficit to defeat the Yankees in 7 games? Then there were the nights where I spent way too much money on my credit card with my friends at The Union Brew House and Applebee's. Going down to a dive bar in Taunton called Escapades where I convinced my buddy Ben to have the lame ass DJ to play his offensive Jewish rap CDs and I came up with a song parody for Fat Joe's "Lean Back" called Lean Cuisine. Then there was the Sox winning the World Series in a sweep, oh what a evening that was, I was never nervous for the Sox, I was shocked and startled by the whole scenario. Who could forget the Nintendo RBI Baseball Drinking Tourney where cursed the screen to a last place finish and made the bad decision of going to get Taco Bell where I would pass out before I got the spins, the shakes and the heaves? Then there's the coup de grace, Halloween. I'll be wearing the kilt I bought at King Dick's and be drinking plenty of Jagermeister and Red Bull. Ladies love the kilt, the kilt is so freeing, I can see why all the broads love wearing the skirts. Tomorrow is November, it's gonna get cold, but that's New England weather for you, end this paragraph already......ahhh Bermulloch! (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, October 25th, 2004
6:22 pm	The Long Overdue JOHNTOBERFEST Update You got that right..........Yes, if you haven't heard by now, you are in the waning moments of Johntober, the greatest month ever. I have never had so much fun in one month of my life. I have had a chance to share my drinking style with many of my close friends and new acquaintances alike. The premise of Johntoberfest is that since I really can't afford or have the time to go to Germany and drink merrily in the beer gardens with folks in laeterhoesen (sp.?), I've decided to drink as many different beers as I possibly can in the month of October. It's funny that I say I can't afford to go to Germany, with all the money I have invested in Massachusetts with Johntoberfest, I probably could have went over to Germany and had the time of my life. Between the greatest day I ever spent as a wrestling fan (go check out my blog) and The Boston Red Sox historic run in the baseball postseason, I have had a blast. Having something to look forward to every night (at least, my liver has) has been exciting. I didn't drink every night and that might make my feat even more startling. I took some Thursdays off here and there to get ready for big weekends in Johntober. The challenge of Johntoberfest may have been finding establishments such as taverns and package stores that carried an expansive variety of beers. I often found at places I normally frequent have a limited selection of brews and when I would go to these joints, I would have already drank all of their beer choices on tap and in the bottle so what does that mean? You got it, mixed drinks, an extension of Johntoberfest. It has spawned a possible Johntober spinoff involving mainly mixed drinks. But I'll wait a bit on that, I may need to take it easy in November for my own health. But the spirit of Johntoberfest has to be spending more time than you expected in a liquor store trying to decide between two dozen different imported beers for your drinking pleasure. And also spreading the cheer and variety of Johntoberfest to drinking patrons alike. I have discovered that I don't have a drinking problem, but that I like the taste of beer, different beers. Hell, I have even written an anthem for Johntoberfest. It's damn cheesy, but so is my ambitious visionquest of an Epcot Center style brewery theme park, it would be a cross between a medieval faire like King Dick's, Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, Virginia and Hershey Park in Pennsylvania with a dash of Epcot. Here's the list of beers that I have drank. I surmise that I have consumed approximately 125 12 ounce servings of alcohol in 25 days. The Johntoberfest Anthem will follow shortly after the list. Lion Stout, Sri Lanka Anchor Steam Ale, San Francisco, USA Stella Artois, Belgium Shipyard Pumpkinhead Ale, Maine, USA Young's Oatmeal Stout, England Carlsberg Ale, Denmark Otter Creek Ale, Vermont, USA Chimay Red, Belgium Grozet, Scotland (Historic Ales Of Scotland Series, I will refer to it as HAOS from now on) Delerium Tremens, Belgium Arrogant Bastard Ale, San Diego, USA Beantown Nut Brown Ale, Boston, USA Samuel Adams Octoberfest, Boston, USA Bass Ale, England Labatt Blue, Canada Molson Canadian, Peru (obviously its Bolivia, no Canada) Michelob Ultra, St. Louis, USA Harpoon IPA, Boston, USA Young's Honeywaggle Ale, England Alba (HAOS), Scotland Hoevah (HAOS), Scotland Guinness Stout, Ireland Newcastle Brown Ale, England A beer with a bird on it from Japan (forgive I was playing drinking games with foreign beers that night, it's like Russian Roulette without the gun, you tend to forget things). Spanish Peaks Honey Raspberry Ale, Denver, USA (? - Just a guess, see previous entry). Miller High Life, Milwaukee, USA Bud Light, St. Louis, USA Killian's Irish Red, obviously Angola no Ireland Corona Extra, Mexico Magner's Cider (I know it's a cider, but they brew it), Ireland Chimay Blue, Belgium Presidente, Dominican Republic Long Trail Reserve, I want to say Maine, USA somewhere cold Hefeweizen UFO, I'm not really sure Samuel Adams, Boston, USA Magic Hat .9 Magic Hat Humble Patience Magic Hat Blind Faith Magic Hat Fat Angel, these were all part of the Magic Hat This and That series, 3 x 4, excellent, I want to say Vermont, USA, but I've been wrong with a lot of these lately just ask for any of these beers by name, it's easier Blue Moon Pumpkinhead Ale, Frisco, USA Mackeson's XXX Stout, England Miller Lite, Milwaukee, USA Coors Light, Golden, Colorado, USA Ephereme, Quebec, Canada Ebulum (HAOS), Scotland Tanner's Jack, England I think that's 46 beers as of last night, October 24. Johntoberfest rolls on until Sunday. If you are in the Massachusetts area (near the South Shore or within a reasonable drive), let's celebrate Johntoberfest together. Send me a message if you want my cell phone number. Maybe we can exchange numbers, that would be grand. The spirit of Johntober lives in all of us, it's not all about the drinking, but having fun. Johntoberfest Anthem by Johnny D How Dry I Am? How Dry Am I? What Was I Thinking? What Was I Drinking? How Can I Be So Hollow? Because I Did Not Know What Was To Follow I Like Beer I Drink Beer I Need Beer Have No Fear Beer Is Near I Feel As If I'm On A Rerun Of Cheers Pub Crawls & Keg Stands Domestic Hops & Foreign Brands Johntoberfest Rolls On, Johntoberfest Rolls On ~Johnny Current Mood: groggy Current Music: The Johntoberfest Anthem - Insert Your Own Background Music (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 20th, 2004
11:26 am	Do you believe in miracles? You're goddamn right I do, I believe in miracles, Al Michaels and yes, Virginia there is a Santa Claus, an Easter Bunny and a fat man named Wayne Knight who played a disgruntled postal worker named Newman on the 1990s pop culture TV phenomenon known as Seinfeld. The 2004 Boston Red Sox, what a fucking unbelievable story and it all may very well come to an end this very evening in the boogie down Bronx at Yankee Stadium. But I know a little bitch called momentum that likes to fuck with them Yankees. Captain Courageous Cowboy Curtis Schilling said it best on his T-Shirt, "Why Not Us". You can't question this, you can't even micromanage each play, that is where the doom and gloom comes in. If you are a fan of the Red Sox, baseball, sports or even human interest melodrama, just tune into the game at a little after 8 sharp and just sit back and enjoy the action unfold. Yankees won 3, Sox won 3 and it all comes down to game number 7. You can't script October, would you want it to be any other way? In other news, I went on my follow-up job interview this morning. I didn't get much sleep after the Sox game. I didn't expect to anyway regardless, this is an interesting time in my life. The interviewer was cordial, ask me good questions and made me think on my toes by relaying past experiences in my life that draw parallels correlating with the position that I am applying for. I hope every thing works out, I'm willing to work long and hard to make a difference in peoples' lives. I'm not a miserly evil son of a bitch, I'm an honest to goodness individual. I'm somewhat good looking, I'm pretty damn bright and pretty humble. I believe in myself, the most important tenet of Hulk Hogan's mantra which also includes saying your prayers (religion is a vague subject where my opinion vaccilates from day to day, that's neither here or there let's just go with the separation of church and journal blog), training (because pumping iron and sweating is sexy like a pack of caged dogs in heat) and eating your vitamins (I'm not Flintstone kid, but getting good protein and essential vitamins from the ol' Food Pyramid doesn't hurt the soul and I also get my unrecognized health kick from regular beer drinking). I don't know how many y'all read this, but I shall be giving you a Johntoberfest update or recap hopefully before the end of the month if not in November. I'm telling you, I have spent so much time out and about drinking different types of brews and liquors and wandering in and out of each of my social circles, I haven't had much time for sleeping, wrestling and/or The Internet. Plus you got the hometown team driving towards a World Series run in Johntober, the greatest month ever. I'll make time for anything, you know me. Even if you don't, get to know me, you'll laugh, you'll smile, you'll learn something and perhaps tears of joy will trickle down your cheek. That's all I got for now, ahhhh Bermulloch! Current Mood: contemplative Current Music: Queen - We Will Rock You (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, October 18th, 2004
11:03 pm	oh my Honestly, I'm doing this for the only person that I know that reads my live journal, my homeboy, Goldburger. It's been awhile since I've made a quality post here on the lj, players and pimps. Let's see King Dick Flair's has come and passed. I had a blast, I haven't smiled so much in one day in like a decade. My lips hurt from all that shit eating grinning. Highlight of the day had to been the man, King Dick Weasel, the greatest heckler in the history of these little doohickey fair festivals. Honestly, we made the fucking guy's day. He said when we left after a full day of checking out swords and low self-esteem carrying burger fatty broads wearing corsets and flimsy gossamer dresses with their breasts hanging out like they want to get devoured by some manly men that it was gonna be a pretty shitty day until we showed up, then he thought it would be a pretty good fucking day. I bought a kilt, the woman and the man that ran the Scottish booth that made my kilt while I drank yards of Killian's Irish Red and mead, they were cool. I talked to the guy, I took his picture on my camera phone (yeah, Ben I'll eventually send you the pictures from SmackDown and King Dick's incremently to your free e-mail account) and he told me strange things happen when you take his picture. So the guy went still for like 2 minutes, I thought the guy froze. Then he started laughing and told me that he has done it for much longer. What a cool shit! Johntoberfest is rocking and rolling. I've had approximately 45 different types of beer and over 100 12 oz. servings of alcoholic beverages in 18 days. I've had some fun during that time. Of course there was SmackDown at the FleetCenter which you already know about. Then there was the trip into Boston to celebrate a friend of a friend's birthday in the city with a mini pub crawl. Bumping into some Asian broad's bachelorette party where she's wearing a white t-shirt covered in wrapped Livesavers with her imploring me to grasp one of the hard candies with my mouth. No harm, no foul, I wrote my e-mail address on your shirt, where's my digital photo, Lady Seattle. The broad taking the photos lived in Seattle for awhile, yeah she verified it rained a lot, no shit. The Red Sox are coming back, David Ortiz is one of my heroes. Big Papi Chulo represents raising the roof and making some noise two straight more. How about two more and a ticket to the World Series, big cat. Then there was the night of the rainout for Game 3. I went down to Plymouth to a place called Sean O'Toole's to see my buddy Bernie's band play, they are called the Adam Ainslie Band. They are pretty good, they do their own shit and cover Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan and Lenny Kravitz amongst other artists. I went there with Bill Rounds and Stormin' Norman. Norman got me to do the Eddie Guerrero Shoulder Shake. Only Chris Norman would implore me to do that and make an ass of myself in the process. Yeah I tried to flirt with the bartender. I kept telling her blue was her color because she was wearing a lot of shades of blue. I gave her my phone number (which I screwed up because I thought the last four digits were 1212, but that's the cops number, my last four are 1242, I'm a big idiot) on the back of my tip money, but whatever it's all in fun so get in the pit and try to love someone. I'm in the process of trying to get out the deli, it's tough. American Express Financial Advisors might see something special in me. I hope so, I'm willing to take a chance on a career with them, hell it's better than cutting bologna at Stop and Shop. Although that's a great fucking pickup line, but I'm not a big fan of them because I'd rather just talk to a broad and get to know a little bit about her. It's easy to make a broad laugh, but learning about her is more impressive than a fleeting funny witty comment. It's all good, Johntoberfest rolls on, I must go to the UBH to finish my beer card and get another plaque with my name on it. Hopefully I can slip them some money and get myself a personalized T-shirt. I got like 15-20 beers left on the card. Plus I got a whole lot of shit going down. Parties, Halloween, possibly King Dick Flair's again (if I can convince this damsel I met online), whatever, it's all gravy with mashed potatoes. There Ben Vereen, are you satisfied? Do you like waffles? Do you remember the 1980s, son? Do you believe in miracles? Can a pet shop sell root beer? Ahhh, Bermulloch! Current Mood: creative (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, October 7th, 2004
10:24 am	One Crazy Night (continued) .....so we get ejected from Hooters and the T and T Express gets their Rolling Rocks for free because of this. They want to go into the venue an hour earlier, but we coerced them to join us at the Harp. Why pay for shitty beer in there when you can get the milk from the cow. We hit the bar before getting a table. Ben buys one of the three beers he bought all night, I'll have him get me back, but it was all worth it, the cathartic puking the next day must have been priceless. I bought the other guys a beer and a shot. Tyler Kanyon got two more shots from our waitress. Ben continued to try to get hot waitresses to take pictures with him. One of them was amenable to the cause while the other was quite haughty about it. She wasn't keen about how she photographed and questioned his intentions. She's probably got a boyfriend that she never puts out for and acts like she's always on the rag. I must say she had an excellent dumper though. JAM'N 94.5 (the hip-hop station in Boston) was there giving away tickets to the show. The crowd at the bar was rather sparse, the contest they had was who could do the best wrestling impersonation. Only a handful of people had entered so why not, it's worth a shot. Ben went first, I let him have Hulk Hogan. He did Hogan/Goldberg On An Intense Rant, not too shabby. I went next with The Macho Man Randy Savage. Ben suggested beforehand that I take off my shirt during my grumblings. I obliged and it got a reaction. Showing the belly and mentioning the Slim Jims, I should have had one in my pocket, if I had only known, but you gotta love a spur of the moment thing like this. If I had time to think and I wasn't shithoused on my 8th alcoholic drink in just as many hours, I would have mentioned the whole 'Be A Man' album and punked out Ben's impersonation. What I did was suitable enough, my Macho Madness voice was clutch. Our opposition, Paul Pitman (doesn't need a gimmick, but has no charisma or originality in him), his 'girlfriend' (reluctantly prodded into weakly mocking Paul by the DJ), The Spinaroonie Guy who had no mic skills and some kid's father who wanted to get his kid ringside seats to fulfill a fantasy (this wasn't the Make My Wish Come True sponsored by Yum Yum City and hosted by Tinkerbell, this is who's got the baddest badass wrestling impersonation). Spinaroonie might have had a shot, but if you can't speak the part, you are in the loser's lounge. Pitman took 3rd, Ben took 2nd and I WON! It felt good, I never win anything. The JAM'N Street Team made me do a cartwheel with my shirt off before I got my prize. RINGSIDE SEATS, 2ND ROW, they don't fuck around on the radio. At least I didn't have to say that JAM'N 94.5 IS THE HOME FOR HIP HOP AND TODAY'S HOTTEST MUSIC. Did I mention the DJ kept reiterating to the bar that I looked like I was HAMMERED, hell yeah, that was awesome. It was time to go into the show, but Ben won tickets to, so we have his tickets, my tickets and our tickets. 4 extra tickets, time to scalp baby. I didn't give a shit if we got any money for them seats. We ended up seeing stoner scalper guy again. Ben made the mistake of getting too close to the venue, we almost got arrested, a cop was nice enough to tell us to back off while a quartet of fuckfaces in hoodies told Ben that they were practically giving away tickets in there. They offered 30 bucks for 40 tickets, I stood back as Ben consulted me on the price. I said 40 would be good, these fuckers wouldn't budge. I didn't give a shit, you got the money so just give them the tickets. We go in and find our seats. 2nd ROW right behind the stairs that lead up to the ring (which nobody seems to use to walk up the ring anymore). Who did we see an arm's length away in front row right by where the wrestlers come out: STORMIN' NORMAN and his crew. Who was 3 or 4 rows behind them: YOU'REGODDAMNRIGHT, the Taunton crew. I had about 4 beers in there, all of them Canadian/American crap. We sat in the same section as the Stacker 2/Catch The Buzz, Feel The Sting Winner. He won a truck and has a chance at winning a million bucks or some shit like that. I'll just tell you that he didn't impersonate Eugene like I would have done and he's got nothing on my Macho Man. He had some good graphics in his video though. Who sat next us, but a semi-celebrity in Boston. Willie Fucking May, who's that you might ask? He's the sideline reporter for the Boston Celtics telecasts on Fox Sports Net. He and all his kids (or their friends, who knows) must have gotten free tickets. Hell, half the arena probably got comped, no wonder business is down, when it's down, it's fucking out. Ben, you can have your Hooter girls pics, I got Willie May in a pic, he's famous bitch. He looks a little like Emmitt Smith, the running back for the Arizona Cardinals. Then there was Pitman, he won shitty third prize, but he was able to upgrade in a trade with scalpers. Then there was the guy in the suit with all them Usher CDs, what the fuck, you don't watch wrestling, I can just tell by your manner. After the show was over and a large black gentleman clad in matching leather jacket and leather hat, if he wore glasses and drove a taxi cab, he'd be in Philly and tell us that they have a lot of culture there like in the Southwest Airlines, this man implored me to chug my beer. Drinking isn't a race, it's a marathon, but the crowd wanted it so I obliged. It's like that birthday broad that looked like a younger Stifler's mom telling me to drink my gin and tonic up by saying 'SUCK IT DOWN' at Siros Waterclub on Marina Bay about a month ago. Went back to the Harp to watch the Yankees lose, nice. Waited for the T crowd to disapate, the bartender recognized me from my earlier no shirt Macho Man prize winning performance. It was like 11:30, 12 hours and 14 drinks later, it was time to go home. Crazy shit always happens on the T, seriously, I always bump into someone I see at Stop & Shop. But this was the Daily Double. While going to get beers in the show, I forgot to mention I bumped into Marlon & His Mom. Marlon is 21 years old and his mother looks like she's hasn't seen a good day since the Civil War. They come into Stop and Shop from time to time, I think they live in Wollaston, I think they walk and take public transportation everywhere, but its weird that he works at Papa Ginos in Cohasset on Thursday putting pizza boxes together and he goes to some special high school program in Norwell. Yeah, it sucks that he's still in high school. It sucks that his only friend is his mother. Nice kid, eyes light up when he sees anyone he recognizes. The two of them probably have a combined IQ under 50. But they are good people and I knew they loved their wrestling. They don't like Mitt Romney and he has no idea who J-Lo is. I bumped into them and they were looking for their seats. Low and behold, they are on the Red Line on the same car as us. They must have been one of the last people out of the building. Burger engages in a conversation with Marlon, another mistake, he's friendly and unwittingly honest, he doesn't hold back. He was drunk and didn't know the back story that I knew about the duo. The mother was quiet and separated from him, she looked like she was falling asleep. Ben never said anything bad about Marlon, he just didn't realize Marlon isn't your normal 21 year old. Marlon wouldn't even realize if you said anything bad about him, he's probably used to it, he's socially inept. When we left the T station, I explained the situation in the best drunk way possible to Ben. He felt like a jerk, but I told him not to worry about it. He wants to invite Marlon to King Richard's Faire or down to Attleboro to watch Monday Night RAW. I don't even know the next time I'll see Marlon, I don't know if he has a phone, he probably uses Morse Code to communicate with others. I went home, made some drunken posts on the Internet. I didn't for long because I didn't want drunken IM someone. I had some Ellio's pepperoni pizza, I'm telling ya, either they've improved the formula. I don't even know if I set the timer on the oven, I think I just guessed correctly on when it was ready, maybe that's why it was so good. It's times like these that remind me of stories from Tucker Max, you are a hero to all those that drink. Thank you and someone pass the Gatorade. Oh yeah, my hangover the next morning was nice after I went to sleep. I woke up at like 5, grabbed the thirst quencher and went back to sleep. I got that fuzzy feeling that hurts yet feels good in an ironic paradoxical what the fuck sort of way. I'm surprised I remembered that much of the day, I was pretty buzzcocked. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 6th, 2004
2:13 pm	JOHNTOBERFEST (and you'regoddamnright!) Before I start discussing the ridiculously insane evening I spent while going to the SmackDown tapings at the FleetCenter in Boston, MA (will they change the name of the building to Bank Of America Center or will some other corporate sponsor?), let's hit a couple of current events. Rodney Dangerfield just joined The Big Boss Man in the playground of the afterlife, let's just say you best not mess with that tandem on seesaw. Even the Brady kids, that includes Tommy as well has got nothing on Dangerfield/Traylor, they rule the roost with a broken leg of lamb and law, order and justice. Stern is moving to satellite radio. It was inevitable, but do you think he can go through 2010. The guy could quit now and walk away, but if Leno can be out there for that long, Howard can be out there longer. Sidebar: Who doesn't like spaghetti? That's like one of them foods that like everyone eats, even them hummus patchouli radish rashers can't resist the carbos. SmackDown was ridiculous last night. For those that don't know, it's taped on Tuesday for airing on UPN on Thursday Nights. Ever since I turned legal drinking age of 21 (I never had the balls to do the fake ID thing, but then again, I'm not going around being a whoppwhore and going on Maury to find out I'm not the father of your baby), I have enjoyed get shithoused and going to wrestling shows. Most of you go to your 'music' shows, well wrestling is music to my ears. Drinking and wrestling go hand in hand, hell it's the inspiration behind my weekly/bi-weekly column Turnbuckle Tailgate at LOP. This is the story of last night, one of the best nights I've had this year. This is a true story, you can't script this shit. Go ask fishfur, he'll notarize this sum bitch. Didn't plan on going to the show as I haven't watched SD when it actually airs on Thursdays at 8pm in months (a, it's a great night for drinking and b, otherwise, i'm playing hold'em) so I missed that Saturday morning when tickets went on sale (I know it's a great time for kids, it used to be a great time for cartoons too, but there's no crying during a hangover only that hollow feeling in your stomach that is somewhat pleasant). After the first 5 minutes tickets go on sale, all the good seats get eaten up by people who work at the venue, the media (radio and TV), special organizations for sick kids, scalpers and goofy marks that have Ultimate Warrior boxer shorts. So what's the point, if the gazillion remaining seats aren't within a stone's throw of the ring. All I need is a lot of space to move around, preferably an aisle seat because there are no beer vendors. So Goldburger has a friend that won tickets on WBCN (a rock station in Boston), but they didn't want to go so they sold the tickets to B.G. for 30 each. He asked me if I wanted to go, reluctantly I said yes and took the day off from work. They haven't been giving me hours lately so fuck them, I'm going to wrasslin'. I woke up earlier than I usually do yesterday. Waited for Goldy to show up from Attleboro, he took longer than he expected because he got halfway up 95 and forgot the tickets. We watched No Mercy, the SmackDown PPV from Sunday Night on tape. I usually watch most wrestling on VHS or DVD, I have no patience for commercials during my wrestling. I enlightened him on JOHNTOBERFEST, my personal mission to drink as many different beers in October's 31 days and to encourage others to do so in honouring the celebrated festival of drinking that occurs in Germany and throughout Europe. I've never been to Europe, so I'll do my best to represent for the United States, the greatest nation in the world. Isn't that right Martin Van Buren? Oh yes, I'm down with MVB, OPP, LSD, CCC, OJ, MJ, the DJ, AJ, initials are where it's at, so are waffles. Do you like waffles? So I got Ben shithoused on 3 different beers (Delerium Tremens, Arrogant Bastard and Lion Stout) before we even left Casa Donaldson. Then we went to the Quincy Center T station to leave for the show. But the show doesn't start for at least 5 hours. What to do, drink drank drunk Dory Funk Hard Knocks style mother fuckers. Nothing good happened on the train, nothing good ever happens on public transportation. Although the Orange Line, the official subway of Halloween sponsored by Candy Corn was exceptionally speedy. We met a stoned misanthrope scalper from Dorchester who got on at Andrew. He was drinking a Dunkin' Donuts coffee and a bagel sandwich with too much cream cheese on it. Not all scalpers are Irish, I learn something new every day. This guy was definitely high on the cheeba, talked real slow. Wanted to know who was fighting in the main event yet he watched RAW, just goes to show you that SmackDown is the inferior brand to the fans. Ben makes the classic mistake of being overtly friendly to strangers for the first of many times throughout the day. We escape him at Downtown Crossing although we didn't have to run away from him like we were 12. After an ATM trip where Ben was enamored with the window at the vestibule because some bearded fuck was talking to the rent-a-security outside of the bank, I coerced Ben into Boston Beer Works. Great place, they make their own beer, like every other Boston food and drink establishment at 3pm, it is barren. Never understood the decor of these new eat and drinkeries (yes, I made up the word, you heard it hear first), looks like a retarded Orwell visionquest, very metal and unhomely, obviously they don't want your business for long, in and out, bitches. The Beantown Nut Brown Ale was pleasant so was the Pumpkinhead I picked out for the Burger. After the overpriced drinks (and I'm willing to pay top dollar for drinks, but I'm not sure if 5 dollars for a 23 ounce beer is too steep, hell I'm willing to pay for the inhouse brewing costs), the fun begins at everyone's favorite owl restaurant, Hooters. Let's preface this by saying that Hooters claims to be a family restaurant. Yeah and Lincoln enjoyed being clean shaven. Burger struggled to find the burgers on the menu, I ordered way to many buffalo wings. The beer selection was paltry, they didn't tap the Red Hook so I had some Sammy October and Bass. I only got to drink 1/3 of the Bass. We got the old medicated out waitress that wasn't friendly like the other younger wetter bitches that worked there. I needed more wetnaps seriously them wings are messy. But they got way too much breading, dog. The Red Sox were kicking ass, we found out Stormin' Q Norman, Chris Norman was coming to the show with Dallas Austin and the rest of their little motley NEWA crew. Ben kept calling him and got the typical formulaic Norman response ala "I'm playing cards at my sistas". We met two other drunks around our age, I was giving them high fives every time the Sox scored, Burger could care less. We joined the two Tauntonites and Ben implored me to take pictures of him with all the Hooterettes on my camera phone. Yes, I'll send you the pics. The one with the biggest tits made me take hers 3 times until she liked the shot. What a vain cantaloupe wielding one she was. Ben was convinced the Asian one looked like Gail Kim, yeah sorta but you were cocked 4 hours ago. One of the Tauntonites, Tim was a character. He had the backwards Tar Heels cap and looked like a crazy fucker. His catchphrase (everyone's got them nowadays, I should think about getting one myself) was "You're God Damn Right" all in one syllable. Must be a Taunton thing. We kept calling the other larger guy, Tyler, Kanyon because his shirt said "Most Valuable Player". You remember Kanyon's delusions of grandieur during the Invasion. Not the Bay Of Pigs, the WCW/ECW one. So Norman arrives and we get Tim to say our stock Norman characterization. He says he knows Norman, but he probably just said that because he liked the nickname. So he yells "STORMIN' NORMAN" and then we get him to yell "I'M HAVING A HOAGIE WITH BRUNO SAMMARTINO!" Norman gave us the Chris Norman Utter Look Of Disgust, didn't acknowledge us and went to his table. Mgmt. wanted us to pipe down, Ben felt snubbed so he yelled "HEY ASSHOLE", that's a common response from Ben. Mgmt. told us to leave and took our beers, yeah we got kicked out of a family restaurant. Yeah right and Lincoln loved his beard. Some dad got offended in the presence of his kids. I'm all for kids watching wrestling, they keep the sport going, but don't feed into the hypocrisy by having your kids go to Hooters beforehand and have some Hooterettes wave their tits in your kids face. To Be Continued (because I keep hitting the wrong key and losing 3 lengthy paragraphs, plus it would be one long ass post). Current Mood: crazy Current Music: Different Strokes Theme Song (1 Comment |Comment on this)
1:46 pm	It's Me, It's Me, It's Johnny D! Hello, my name is John and I am 24 years old. I guarantee this will be the most boring of my journal entries. I am from North Weymouth, MA aka N Dubs and I like the finer things in life (you know, drinking, women, pro wrestling, porno). I hope I can spread the word that the 1980s are back even though it's the double zeros. I write a wrestling column over at the Lords Of Pain website called Turnbuckle Tailgate. I'm new to this site so I don't know if that's kosher, dropping names like they was buffalo headed nickels. I am an excellent observer so I have plenty of stories. I don't know if I am the best storyteller, but bear with me and you'll laugh your trousers all the way down to right below your knees and approach a new appreciation for fecalphilia. I'll try to post here often because I enjoy writing, but hate stuffy literature so there's my language vice. I may say things that are vulgar, but I am not offensive, harmful of malicious in anyway. I am just random so it happens like Bill Murray noogie on seeded rye. With that being said, let's get this party started, bitches. Current Mood: quixotic Current Music: Coldplay - Spies (1 Comment |Comment on this)