Grease and a pointy stick

So last night was fun times. I recently joined a Tuesday night dart league simply for something to do on tuesday nights. Much like my bowling league, this is really just a drinking league. You know, now that I'm thinking about it, I don't think drinking while doing either is a wise decision. You can do a lot of damage with a bowling ball and three darts. I'm not talking about these silly "soft tip" darts, I'm talking heavy as shit, sharpened before each game steel tips. I mean, really, someone get's drunk and angry in either "sport" and shit can go bad quick. Anyhow, on a side note, my dart league is a travelling league. This is actually kinda rad cuz we get to schlep around to other bars I wouldn't necessarily go to for no other reason than I didn't know they were there. Last night were in Royal Oak. This matters not, it was the trip out to the Oak that made me happy. As many of you know, I love pirates. Tis true matey. But the only thing I love as much as pirates are spies. On the way out I saw a spy shop. This made me very happy. Just as I was announcing my happiness... ANOTHER SPY STORE! I was like a kid in a titty bar. I was too excited to speak and had too many ideas to be coherent. I had decided that we needed to go to the spy stores, get all the equipment we need (including rope) and break into a consulate just because we could. I had but one mandate, I was to be the one to crawl through the ventilation ducts no matter how better suited the other three were for the job. let's just say I was with three very skinny people ranging in height from 5'2"-6'. It was then pointed out that the only way I'm making it through the vents is with about 30lbs of grease and being poked with a sharp stick. Bastards, using logic and spacial relations and physics and shit. It was then suggested we break into the spy shop, which I shot down since, well you need the spy gear to circumvent the spy shop's spy shit. Of course I stated my desire to be a pirate spy, or spy pirate, whichever sounded better. I was told this is not a viable career. I explained the only reason they thought so was because no one has ever heard of it, because in order to be a pirate spy, you have to be the best at both. And one had never been caught. But they exist my friends. They exist.

Anyhow, the moral of this whole story (Chud, there is no way to derive a moral from this) is that when you return to your home bar and have a "few" more beers, and some shots with the owner and win a couple of games people start to do stupid shit. For example, throwing darts at people's feet. While this is generally accepted practice during a dart game you are usually aiming away from the foot. She was aiming AT feet. No big deal. Then... it happened. In my defense, I had 9 darts and the previous 8 were beautifully grouped and just close enough to make you make you wince. then, I threw the 9th dart.



Woops. Guess I should've stopped at 8.

Call the FDA, and the Nobel committee, I've discovered a miracle.

Well, not really. My shit ass shoulder has been hurting like a mofo all day and I've been thinking about cutting it off. However I have managed to get it from being a serious distraction type of pain, to a dull, almost forgettable yet irksome ache. How have I achieved such success you ask? simple: 4 motrin (safer on a heavy drinker's liver), a 40 and 1/2 of Labatt Blue, and some Ben Gay. Yeah, you too could something something. Sorry, not really in the mindset to blog right now. I think the Motrin and the Blue are mixing with the Ben Gay smell to fuck with my head. I kinda like it. So, now you get some links. both, are EXTREMELY worth watching.
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Mr. Belding, Tony Romo, an 80's cover band, and Journey's "don't stop believin'" for the record, Tony Romo can carry a tune better than I. Think about THAT next time I suggest Karaoke.

French Military + Shoulder fired anti tank missile + Murphy = I think it might behoove you to surrender.

Unhealthy?

Is it bad that I have a seriously unhealthy obsession with Marlee Matlin? I don't know what it is. It could be the deaf slur, her serious hotness, or the ability to swear at her at her in anger with my back turned to her and have her be none the wiser... I just don't know. All I do know is that when I hear her name I look, and watch. In fact I actually watched an episode of Extreme Makeover Home Edition just because she was on it. I can't stand the show. the show is tripe, drivel, and feelgood crap based on some intangible that allows someone to be given a leg up over someone else as deserving though neither is willing to work for it. ANYHOW, back to Marlee. I actually took ASL for a semester in college just in case I got the chance to pick Marlee up at the bar. You know, I could sign her my name and "where is the bathroom" and she'd swoon. I. Need. Help. 

Attention everyone!

I have solved all the world's problems. no need to continue to argue or debate. apparently all you need is nuclear power, wave power technology, a re-education of global politics to the proletariat, the dissolution of the UAW and a predominantly libertarian viewpoint. also, jack bauer has to be allowed to act with complete autonomy. cuz, let's face it. in the clutch when he's yelling "WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME" you get that warm blanket feeling.

anyhow, the other night for superbowl sunday i ended up at a friend's house. she was having a couple friends over and one of these wonderful friends felt that she owed it to me to shake hands with my penis. let me tell you that in no uncertain terms, i enjoyed this greatly. so, since i have nothing else to add to this, you get pictures of shit we wrote on the local bar while it is undergoing renovations.


awww, amanda hearts me, and i heart her.


what's this? i heart julie? whatever will amanda think? shhh... don't tell either.


yeah, i was too drunk to write that, so thanks to erika for doing so.


hehehehehe, yeah, i kinda do.


kinda out of focus, but it says "rob d has a huge p". while this is fiction, i will accept it as fact.

 
originally i had written "Rob & Pussy" in a heart. Jen decided that my well spaced writing deserved some fucking with, so a "t" was added before the "y" and she turned the P into an R, yeah...


FUCK RUSSTY! russty:pussy as mapplethorpe:straight

damn you russty!!!