Monday, June 4, 2012
You know when you shampoo your hair? Me neither, but play along. So, the first time you shampoo your hair, you get some moderate lathering. If you actually bother to follow the directions calling for you to "rinse and repeat," you are met with such an overabundance of lather you begin to question the validity of your first attempt. Also, you feel like you're in a shampoo commercial.
The Reverse Shampoo Effect is felt when you drink booze. If you drink during the day, then nap, then try to drink again it's hard to get drunk the second time. See the inverse relationship? Good. Moving on.
The real issue arises when you attempt to defeat the RSE. I usually try to pound a few beers back real fast and see if I can get back to where I want to be. This rarely works. Mainly because you are already hungover from earlier and the beer doesn't taste very good and you immediately want to vom-vom. Also, the alcohol content of beer is a little lower than one would want plus it takes a little time to digest. So you make the intelligent decision to run a Hail Mary and go for some liquor. Jameson if you're a man. So you've pounded a few beers and had a shot of whiskey and you still feel dead sober...
CAUTION DANGER AHEAD is what you should see, what you see is YOU CAN DRINK FOREVER.
...so you proceed to drink more shots and over the course of thirty minutes you do 4 or 5 and you think you're feeling pretty good. What you don't know, is you're about to make an ass out of yourself. Traditionally, you go from hungover/kinda sober to shitfaced/blacked out in 20 minutes. One minute you're bellied up to the bar having a grand old time, next minute you're face down in a puddle of someone else's vomit, vomiting your vomit on top of their vomit, vomitously.
Be careful my friends.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
The drivers here are freaking terrible. They smash into eachother with reckless abandon even when the pavement is clean and dry. Add rain, and you have a virtual clusterfuck of catastrophic collisions. Pileups, even piledowns--which are a nightmare. Add snow? I think the fucking world might end. So, I am fully stocked up on Budweiser, brisket and jerky and I am sitting on the front porch with an unlit molotov cocktail and shotgun. BRING IT.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
This Saturday night/Sunday morning is the HOUR THAT DOESN’T COUNT. For those of you who are unfamiliar with how to spend the HOUR THAT DOESN’T COUNT, I have two things to say to you 1) kill yourself and 2) umm, actually I guess it was only one thing. The HOUR THAT DOESN’T COUNT is probably the greatest thing that has ever happened to anyone, anywhere. There is literally an hour that doesn’t exist that runs from 1 am to 2 am. At 2 the clock is set back to 1 so that hour never existed so there are no fucking rules. NONE. You can do whatever, which presents us with one small problem. What to do with your time. Ahh, the paralysis of choice. Luckily, your friend Doug the Punter has returned to guide you, the intrepid reader, through the HOUR THAT DOESN’T COUNT. The choices are many, actually four. A list, in order of least awesome to most awesome.
4) Drink so much you throw up.
On the surface this appears to be a fine idea. Who doesn’t like to toe the line between blacked out and alcohol poisoning? However, there is one problem. If you’re drinking hard you should have probably puked before 1 am. Puking early on is the number-one key to a great time because not only will you be able to drink a ton more after you throw up, you will feel better (I promise) AND you won’t have to work out the next day. It is your classic win-win-win. So if you decided to waste some of the hour that doesn’t count in the bathroom puking you’ve already lost, it’s only 60 minutes goddamnit.
3) Call your ex.
Always a fan favorite. This one is pretty self-explanatory. It’s the HOUR THAT DOESN’T COUNT, remember? Call her up and tell her your sorry you threw up on her at her sister’s wedding (although it was really her fault, she should have known better to let you near the open bar). Tell her that the doctor gave you prescription deodorant so that shouldn’t be an issue anymore. Tell her you got your stomach stapled. OR you can go in the other direction and tell her off. The choice is yours. Either way you don’t have to feel bad about drunk-dialing your ex when you wake up the next day because it was the hour that doesn’t count.
2) Eat so much you throw up.
Not to be confused with drinking so much you throw up. This is entirely different. During the hour that doesn’t count find as much food as you can and put it in your mouth. Just eat until you think you hate yourself. Now you’re asking me, “Say Doug, what do I do now that I just ate $70 worth of food?” Well, there are two options. You can either A) pass out with half a crab Rangoon hanging from your lip and your hair styled with BK Stacker sauce or B) make yourself throw up. I strongly recommend option B because since you threw up during the HOUR THAT DOESN’T COUNT it means that you don’t have an eating disorder/serious problem. Don’t you fucking judge me.
1a) Hit on chicks like there is no tomorrow.
I am not the smoothest person with the ladies but for one hour out of every year I’m like Miles fucking Davis. Why? I’ll let you in on my secret. THIS HOUR DOES NOT COUNT. Top this fact off with the fact that chicks think the hour that doesn’t count is the funniest/greatest pickup line ever. Tell a chick they should go home with you because it’s the hour that doesn’t count and she will. I promise. If it doesn’t work, you’re welcome, because that chick is a dude. I don’t know what it is but somewhere in the chick brain the hour that doesn’t count makes perfect sense; they love it. Top it off with this year it falling on Halloween and it’s the fucking 50-year storm. Bode would be proud.
1b) Beat your children.
Because you know they deserve it. If your spouse complains, beat them. It’s the HOUR THAT DOESN’T COUNT. It’s all legal, I promise, some guy I knew told me.
Anyway I wish each and every one of you success this year.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Just so you know, RICK is struggling in the soft economy as well. Note that he is up in after hours trading. Shocker.
RICK - Rick's Cabaret Int'l, Inc (NASDAQ)
|7.91 -0.11 (-1.31%) Oct 27 4:00pm ET|
7.92 +0.01 (0.13%) After Hours
Penn State students slowly come unraveled over a T-Shirt that loosely resembles a cross. I can see that there is a resemblance to a cross, but I find it hard to believe that there is enough of a scramble on campus for this article to land on FOXNEWS.COM. It just seems ridiculous that there are actually people at this school that refuse to purchase the shirt because they feel like it has a religious undertone. "oooohhhh scaaarrryyy. The school is trying to cast a crazy christian spell over us!!!!" Seriously people, there is no way that the cross is intentional religious branding in this day in age. Especially at a place like Penn State. Just because you're pre-law doesn't mean that you need to make a stink about every goddamn thing that takes place on campus.
Oh NO!!! My mashed potatoes look like a Star of David. NOOOOOO!!! The Jews have invaded my Irish Cuisine!!!!! Fuck you morons.
Local Philly woman offers sexual favors to an undercover cop for World Series tix. First off, c'mon lady, haven't we learned our lessons about sexual favors and the Craigslist. Didn't some dude merc some chick that he met on Craigslist. Second, when committing felonies, please make sure that you aren't talking to a cop. I've been to Philadelphia and I'm pretty damn sure that they begin teaching that in middle school. Today class we are going to learn how not to get busted by a Narc! Remember, always check for a wire, and never take her word for it. 15 gets you 20!
In a related story, word on the street is that Jeter is willing to S some D's for MVP votes. Food for thought.
Friday, October 23, 2009
There were many obstacles to the westward expansion. As in all great explorations, one difficulty that arose was how to keep everyone from starving to death. Throughout time dried, salted meats have been pivotal in exploration because they provided a way for meat to be preserved for a long period of time. Meat provides essential protein and nutrients needed for the strenuous journey through the wilderness. Jerky has been important to exploration for many centuries, but I think that this monument should focus on Daniel Boone and his passage through the Cumberland Gap into Kentucky.
The monument should be placed on the Wilderness Trail—the trail that follows the gap through the mountains—to signify the importance of opening up the road west. The focus, however, is on the dried meat so the monument itself should be of Daniel Boone gazing out over the frontier enjoying some delicious jerky. It should be made of locally quarried stone so that it will not be an eyesore in the surrounding natural beauty. Daniel should be dressed in historically accurate attire with his hand shielding the light from above. In his other hand, he should be holding a piece of jerky while he tears it apart with his teeth. There will also be a plaque that explains what the monument is all about.
“This monument was erected in 2009 to commemorate the pivotal role of jerky to the expansion westward. It was imperative to be able to carry meat that wouldn’t spoil to feed the hungry explorers as they bravely widened the Wilderness Trail through the Cumberland Gap to make it easier for the settlers that followed. Here you see the esteemed Daniel Boone gazing to the frontier ahead. He is enjoying some delicious jerky. This is probably venison jerky as deer are plentiful in these woods.”
I believe that the monument would technically be a national monument because the area in which it should be placed is a National Historical Park. The funding, however, could be raised privately. I would certainly enjoy contributing to such a great landmark, as would other jerky enthusiasts that I know. Also, with some artfully placed advertising I believe we could raise funds from jerky producing companies such as Jack’s Links. Perhaps they could sponsor the monument.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
"BISHKEK, Kyrgyzstan — The director of a circus arena says an ice-skating bear turned on its trainers, killing one and seriously wounding another.
Kurmangazy Isanayev says workers dragged the trainers with a visiting Russian troupe away from the bear following Wednesday's attack, as they were rehearsing for a show in Bishkek.
The exits were then closed and rescue services called in.
Police say they shot the bear dead."
Hardy har har. Here are the key points to this one:
1.) Don't make a fucking bear ice skate
2.) Don't be around a bear, ever. Seriously, they will fucking kill you.
3.) Be extra careful when around a bear and the police at the same time. You'll notice that the police response was to CLOSE THE EXITS, hilariously trapping all the assholes that were in the arena. This was where, by the way, our bloodthirsty ice-skating bear was murdering the shit out of his trainer.
4.) Let us learn something about parenting. If you make your kids do something that sucks, they will turn into a bear and eat your face.
5.) Finally, when shooting bears, please take caution to 'shoot them dead.' Shooting a bear alive is tough if they're already dead, but if they are alive and you shoot them and they are still alive, they often eat your butt to smithereens (Always Sunny reference)
Now that we have covered most of the important points lets take a brief moment to reflect on why no one visits Kyrgyzstan. Basically, it's probably because no one has any idea where the fuck it is. If they do, they are probably confusing it with Kazakhstan, where Borat was from. Other issues include: Naming cities things like Bishkek. Ice skating bear murderers. Cops that shoot people dead. Skate boarding lion attacks are up 34% this year.
Don't go to Kyrgyzstan, dick.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
French hosehound does something kinda funny
So the French have dumped diplomacy in exchange for using city planing to take little jabs at each other. In a classic case of "hold me back"--where you say you're gonna fight someone but in reality you are just praying that your friends will hold you back long enough for the bouncers to throw everyone out of the club, where you continue to scream obscene things as you book it to a cab and thank god you didn't just get the shit beat out of you--two warring cities have placed one way streets that face each other. They outsourced the planning to the great great great grandson of the man that planned the streets in Boston, Seamus the Drunken Dancing Leprechaun the Sixth. Who, coincidentally, used the same tools for the planning of the roads as his predecessor, 18 pints of Guinness, a DUI arrest, an angry Polynesian hooker, a crayon and some construction paper.
While I'm at it, since our special teams writer apparently doesn't have enough vacation days from his 'freelance writing' job to read or write this blog, I would like to add this:
Tom Brady is gay.
Bill Belichick is a cheating hooker with a sex tape.
Manny Rameriz is a lazy bitch.
David Ortiz is fat.
The Boston Garden is a terrible venue.
The long chicken sandwich? It long chicken sucks ass.
Special Teams doesn't count.
Authority is awesome.
Bush was a genius.
The sky is green.
Ninjas are awesome.
Samurais can suck a big one.
Steven Seagal is a phenomenal actor.
Jim Rome is the best sports commentator ever.
Even though you punched me in the face, you still a little bitch.
AND I'M GLAD THE WHALERS MOVED!
Suck it bitch. Lets rumble!!!
( I love you, but I need to jumpstart things )
( But you did punch me in the face)