Gay Joe: Conjugal Harmony, Matty.
Me: Awesome. BrandiY is hot.
Gay Joe: I liked Fisty.
Me: Yeah. Good name. Did you check out Chopper? Her convictions are drug trafficking, murder, plus some small stuff.
Gay Joe: Ha! I would totally date a prison chick. Finally, I would get me a real man.
Me: Those girls are more man than me, Joey.
Gay Joe: These are the kinds of gals that could win a fight in a back alley while eight months pregnant. Gotta respect that.
Me: Totally. Plus they would not care about getting their fetus cut out of their uterus as long as they won.
Gay Joe: Yup.
Me: I love these convictions: I kill a man what who raped me but DNA said he didn't so it was murder or Two counts premedicated murder on my sister kids I used to wash.
Gay Joe: Premedicated murder? Used to wash? That is awesome.
Me: Wait ... I found the best one. Look at Chesty Heavens' convictions: I beat up this bitch cop with my bare knuckles and she died so I'm done for life. Lets chat!
Gay Joe: Wow. That IS super.
Me: She is a special lady.

Labels: gay joe, im convos, prison

Now that the bulged disc is mostly healed, the sciatic nerve is growing less annoying by the day and my stupid injury is tolerating two league nights of ice hockey again, the wife and I decided to get back on the fitness train. For Xmas we bought ourselves a treadmill and are looking into a bench and dumbbell set (I am hoping some recently divorced father of three will be unloading a joint cheap on Craigslist because he is moving into a crappy one bedroom apartment due to crushing monthly alimony and child support payments). These fitness items all fit nicely into our unfinished basement. My goal is to be back in pristine condition for the 2008 Runnin' Of The Green in the middle of March (Runnin' Of The Green is a 7K road race through downtown Denver which features free beer and corned beef upon crossing the finish line. The Irish finally got something right).

On Monday we started a high-fiber, high-vitamin cleansing that has shaved four pounds off my middle and has seen feces flying from my ass faster than a midget being fired from a cannon (I tallied a lifetime record ten bowel movements today that were both refreshing and enjoyable). We finish said cleansing this Saturday when I will start eating solid food again in lieu of fitness shakes and health bars.

Labels: health, injury, l-i-v-i-n, wife

There are degrees of physical attractiveness in this world. While Jessica Biel is "Girl Next Door" hot and Diane Lane is "Cougar" hot, this specimen is the classic example of "Fucked Up" hot. Cute yet embattled face, rock hard abs, horrible tattoos and a penchant for living on the wrong side of the law. Did daddy not hug you enough, fucked-up hot girl? Or did he hug you too much? Does the weed and the booze numb you enough to emotionally handle collecting all the dollar bills from the stage at the end of your dance? Do your three illegitimate children live with your mom or are they being raised by television in a trailer park somewhere? The world may never know what drives you, fucked-up hot girl, but we will keep trying to learn through future arrests and tribal yin-yang tattoos.

Labels: pop culture, strippers, whores

Saturday saw the send off for my buddy Wil who is walking the Earth for the next six months to a year. He will return home whenever his money or his transsexual hooker sugar daddy connections dry up (literally). We procured a limo for his last evening in the city and took a dive bar tour of Denver in style. Some highlights:

• The limo was compliments of one of my work clients who hooked us up with an amazing deal. He gave us a two week old Mercedes Benz limo for the night and stocked it with complimentary beer, gin, whiskey and champagne. The whip was so new that the stereo could only play CDs as the sound system was like the Death Star in Return Of The Jedi and not yet fully operational. We only brought one CD between the seven of us. Said CD was a shitty local techno band and ended up being fired from the limo window by night's end.
• At My Brother's Bar, they have bacon listed as a menu item.
• Number of individuals in our group that ordered bacon: 2.
• Number of individuals that asked the waitress to "Look away" as he attempted to pick up and eat a strip of bacon that fell of the floor: 1.
• The Hilltop, my favorite college-era haunt, did not fail to disappoint (except for the omission of "Ballad Of The Green Berets" from the jukebox which was the traditional way to close all drinking benders back in the day). While walking into the bar a guy came out yelling "Who needs some blow? Some meth? Some X?" While sitting at the bar some troll-looking kid was attempting to start a fight with the a gentleman three times his size. The bartender encouraged smoking after asking if we were cops and than proceeded to light up and "fuck the anti-smoking laws."
• Changing the name of a strip club from Cheerleaders to The Player's Club does not make your joint instantly classier. You still have to wash the vomit and sweaty ass from the carpet.
• Number of individuals in our group that had their wife pick them up from The Player's Club: 1.
• Number of individuals in our group that lost an electronic device sometime during the night: 2.
• Number of individuals in our group that were called by the limo company with the whereabouts of their lost electronic device: 1.

Be sure to rubber up in the jungle, Wil. Once you establish your white warlord presence in Belize, we will be down to slaughter cattle with machetes in front of the locals as a lesson not to cross you. In short, be safe and enjoy your adventures.

Labels: bacon, decadence, denver, dj, drinking, ez, jake, wil

On Saturday morning, I dragged the wife out of bed, bought her a coffee and took her along with me on a magical voyage to Comcast. Our mission? To trade in our old cable box for some hot HD DVR action. It is true that I may not love our unborn children as much as I love this box of wires and wonder. We just got finished watching the first two episodes of American Gladiators and high definition shots of sweaty beatings, homoeroticism, exuberant machismo and water-soaked camel toe never looked so good

Labels: l-i-v-i-n, technology, wife

Highlights from the Eugene/Coastal Oregon family vacation (click here for some hot Flickr action):

• Number of relatives houses we crashed at that had wireless internet but not cable television: 1.
• A movie that is not fun for the entire family: I Am Legend.
• A movie that is not good in any way, shape or form: The Man From Earth.
• Times the phrase "I slept like the baby Jesus" was uttered: 4.
• How many trips were made to Autzen Stadium to procure gifts: 4.
• How many trips made to Autzen Stadium were to take back items bought by hasty husbands who purchased items with no thought of sizes/people in mind: 2.
• Times the assumed identity "Grayson Buttdorf" was used to sign into the Oregon Coastal Parks and Recreation gray whale watching sheet: 1.
• How many variations of the assumed identity "Grayson Buttdorf" were mulled over numerous Alaskan Ales and one annoyed 18 year-old misquoted cousin: 5.
• Beer, in ounces, that was consumed on the front deck of a the Heceta Head Lighthouse bed and breakfast in one evening: 184.
• A roaring ocean, a good buzz, a comfortable bed and a warm room gave me the best night of sleep in recent memory.
• A short, slanted ceiling, high-backed bathtub and hand-held shower head gave me the most uncomfortable bathing experience in recent memory.
• How many gravely-voiced suspected serial killers ate with us during our "seven-course breakfast": 1.
• Lastly, props to my brother-in-law drove who our rented mini-van like Al Cowlings across Northwest Oregon in order to get us to our flight at PDX with minutes to spare.

Labels: bro-in-law, travels, wife