I Wuv You, Man

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It’s been a while.

I just finished watching I Love You, Man with the better half. What a fucking hilarious movie.

The scary part is that I can relate to the characters. A Lot.

It’s probably because we were drinking when we watched it.

Anyhoo…

I noticed when I logged in here that tons of douchebag sites are sending comments that have links to porn sites. WTF.

Fuck thee off, I say. To thee!

KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

 

Yeah! I still remember my password!

Despite a busy workday (and these days, they all are) I wandered back to this site for whatever reason — and totally lost about three hours reading all the shit we posted here once upon a time.  Sarsh was talking all Frenchy like, jager bombshell was making out with randoms, Jogre was all maudlin, and I swore a lot.  Well, times have changes.  I have at least one kid now (Daav’s oats: been sowed far and wide), years have passed, photos have disapeared from the site, spambots have been all over that Happy New Year, Bitches! post — the times they have changed, is what I’m saying.

But I’m here briefly to keep the dream alive.  However, my baby (not Sarsh) is all grunty and awake all of the sudden, so I better go.  Um, peace out.  Word to your mom.  And I have, indeed, dropped bombs.  Hence all the Fabreeze.

 

Maybe I shouldnt’ t have decided to have a glass of wine while I prepared dinner, at 10 pm, after going for a 14 km run, then going to the store ‘cuz I didn’t have any pizza sauce and goddamnit i needed pizza and somehow it became 10 pm ‘cuz I had to work today and didn’t get home until like 5:30 pm and 14 km takes a long time to run. And I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.  And I lost 4 lbs on my run, i’m not making that up.  It’s true.  I must be really dehydrated, which means my blood voilume is really low and so my EtOH concentration must be high. But Iswear to you that I’ve only have 1/2 a glass of wine, but I nearly fell over when I just stood up just now.   Fuck, I’m such a cheap drunk.  Whow ould believe that the Jager Bombshell is a cheap drunk. BUt it’s true.  But not so drunk that I didn’t remember to put up my photo this time.  Are you proud of me, Brown Sugar Daddy?

 

Canada Day, up Canada way

So we thought we’d rock some mojitos tonight (along with beer, seeing as we just brought about 94 cases back from Hull at about $20 a case), and holy shit they make me drunky.  Ingrediants: rum, lime juice, sugar, club soda, and mint (which you’re supposed to muddle the mint, but for whatever that means we basically just mashed the mint to fuck with a fork, which I can only assume is what they meant by ‘muddle’.)  Anyhow, Sarah and I both had one around 2pm (first drink of the night, btw) and I swear to jebus it wasn’t made strong–tops: a shot and a half.  But we were goofy as fuck by the end of one drink. In the interests of full disclosure, we did substitute the sugar for sweetener (cause let’s be honest–brother’s gotta maintain his six pack (nay: eight pack (okay, fine: twelve pack)).  Anyhow, give it a whirl yersself and let me know what happens (cause us: whooooaaaaaaaolyshit!)

So it’s Canada Day, and for the first time in three years we’re actually in Ottawa for it.  Walked up to parliment around two, covorted among the sweaty masses, came home.  Hung out, sobered up, then I went for a run (still not sure what possessed me).  Anyway, during the run I saw many a party, but best of all I saw some dude do a keg stand in the middle of the street.  I didn’t do one myself–something about people not liking my sweaty bearded lips being on the nozzle–but I did at least have time to induct him.  He’s the new Wasted Time VP, by the way.  His name?  I wanna say Larry. 

Anyhow, moral being: you’re all still fucking fired.

 

If This Year Had a Face, I Would Punch it

I tend to be a positive person. Most people would never use the word negative to describe me.

But let me tell you, this year was one full of negativity, and I found my positive nature in uproar over the state of things.

Too bad for you, I won’t illuminate you in regards to specifics. Needless to say that it was a tough year to weather, even though there have been some really great times as well.

Enough of that, though.

This is a place of fun and happiness.

This year was the year of Wasted Time.

Indeed, when Daav and I thought up this strangly comforting site, we didn’t know how much people would like it. We also didn’t know that Jager Bombshell would be our most popular writer (seriously, every other hit is from searches for her name).

Our alliance with Whynatte resulted in fun times had by all.

This year, let’s make it better. Let’s get some good publicity going and make some damned t-shirts. It’s fun to jump on a bandwagon once in a while.

Peace, love, and ethanol to you in the new year.

 

A day in the rock ‘n roll lifestyle of Daav

Got up at seven, was relatively productive all the way through to about one. Did sweet FA for about two hours. Got a flu shot (where the needle literally bounced off my arm the first time, because I am a rock iron golden god, FYI.) Performed decently work-wise until five. Walked home with Sarsh. Made sweet love down by the fire (or maybe just had dinner). Went to the grocery store and the library. Went to liquor store for Christmas shopping. Spent (no exageration) three hundred and fifty dollars there. Came home. Opened bottle of wine (twin to one we were going to use as gift; called Painted Turtle; from BC maybe; tasted ass-y; felt betrayed by BC as all its intoxicants had proven delicious to date; decided against gifting the second bottle). Moved on to vodka (Stoli; from the freezer; lovely). Chatted online with the Jager Bombshell. Discused plans for–if not satellite WhyNatte, at least Conference Call WhyNatte. Date and time TBA.

 

many parties X free alcohol = good times

Sarsh, I feel so close to you!  We were both celebrating the holidays with sweet sweet

ethanol tonight!  So I put mathematical symbols in my title too!  And people were talking about mathematical things at the party… don’t ever party with electrical engineers, trust me.

I was drinking my alky-hol from a syringe.  yes, a syringe.  Toffee flavoured something or other.  Raspberry sour.  Plus my house drink, diet Pepsi and Amaretto, which needs a better name.  But athat wasn’t in a syringe.  Nor was it at my house.  I have pictures of the syringy goodness, but I’m too tired to put them up.  Plus I don’t know if I could figure out how to do it anyway on this friggin’ wordpress thing.  I’m lucky i can figure out how to log in.   And I still couldn’t convince ANYONE to try a Whynatte with me… what is everyone I know so lame???  K, if I can’t convince anyone before then, I’m totally doing a Whynatte on CHristams Eve…e ven if I have to do it all by myself!!

 

I’m the patron saint of Wasted Time. Daav said so.

I just went ot a party where we couldn’t even flush the toilet ‘cuz they dont have running water. We have to boil our freakin’g water in vancouver now, What is this a freaking thrid world conuntry or something?? I think i may have told a bunch of girls at the party to get IUDs.  Yes, I’m pretty sure I did tell them that.  Wtf?

Now i’m trying ot chat with someonw eand drunk blog and it’ not easyl Do I really look like i’m in a state to mutlitaske? I’ m so friggn hungvry but i don’t know what to eat. I don’t thinK I shosul d cook antyhing. I fear that might not be safe. But i have the munchies. IT’s problematic for me. But the paryt was onlhy stumbling distance away. So that was goodl. I have to play two games of ball hockey tomroowo. Fuck, I gues s i s hould got to sleep. Man, maybe i will got ot sleep , and just eat int eht morhing. food or sleep? food ro sleep? what wil win? I will let you know later. Same bat time. Same bat channel.

 

Veronica Mars is smarter than me.

My lord!  It certainly has been a LONG-ASSED time since I posted here.  I am not quite sure why — it is not like my drinking has dropped off!  I have gone through a lovely “Dark and Stormy” phase after visiting Bermuda (like I needed any more excuses to drink rum).  This evening, I started out with a caesar, but ended up with beer.  Sweet, sweet beer.  I guess I needed a break from Rum.

 We watched “Sixteen Candles” tonight (happy b-day, Mama!), then moved on to TV trivia.  While I often wax poetic about movies on this site, I thought I should dedicate this entry to a TV show that I adore — Veronica Mars.  It is incredibly well cast, brilliantly written and as addictive as crack. SERIOUSLY.  If you haven’t checked out the first season on DVD, do it!  Then, watch Season 2 and get caught up on Season 3 — only 6 eps in.  I resisted watching b/c it it was on UPN in the U.S. and thus wouldn’t be available in Canada.  I was a fool.  It is phenomenal.  And it is totally “ratings-challenged”.  Check it out, party people.  Especially my Yankee friends.  The more Americans who watch the show, the likelier it is to get a full season order on the new CW.

 On a less fluffy note — November 11th is Remembrance Day here in Canada.  War buff me gets all verklempt on this day, particularly as I’ve gotten older.  The vast majority of those killed in both WWI and WWII were much younger than I am now — I visited WWI cemeteries in Belgium where the oldest person buried there was 24.  It is also an odd day for me — my Dad’s side fought for the Allies In WWII while my Nonno was Italian and an Allied POW for 5 years of that same war.  While I won’t disrespect your intelligence by going on about this, I will ask you to wear your poppies proudly and to take a moment of silence at 11 am (on 11/11) to remember all those who have been lost in global conflicts.   Their loss is immeasurable and is felt to this day.

 

“I AM A HERO*” – that is what he says.

*so not what i would say at this time.

This evening’s begining: “Hey, babe, let’s go out with your friends and have a few drinks, dance a few dances, come home and have some wild fun.” “Ok, cool, let’s do it.”

Eat eat. Drink drink.

Enter Club. Drink drink. Dance dance. Drink drink. Drink drink. Have lots of laughs, hang with friends… A good ‘ffing time.

The night unfolds as any other evening at a club with friends.

And then the shit hits the FUCKING fan.

[Back story: my man is the coolest, funniest, smartest man I know. I love him with all of my heart. But please note that I did not include in his list of atributes his amazing muscles and fitness physique.]

Some crazy chica starts rummaging her way through our jackets and purses, and my man yells “Get this girl a cab!” A hand swings at him. Wooah, he don’t like that… so what is any smart man to do? Yes that is right, throw your drink at the culprit.

White shits and muscled biceps a-blurred attack the man who threw the drink.

[there i was freaking out over the mob ATTACKING my man...]

Bouncers bounce in, pull the single beat-up kid out into the street, and wait.

I grab my coat and his. Heart pounding, I annouce to his friends that he is the one who was escorted out, and I will talk to them soon.

Shoving my way through the crowd, I note that everyone is freaked out by the brawl [yes, it was a brawl, if ever so briefly; there were minumum eight people pounding on my pounded]. Stepping outside, my man is standing by an employee who says “no, I stand here to make sure you don’t get jumped. Again.”

Fuck.

The face is bloody-ish. Nose semi-crookeder than before… The forehead extending beyond his left temple further than it had ten minutes prior. Left cheek fucked. Face all-together messed the eff up.

Luckily we only have an early Thanksgiving dinner with his family on Sunday. sweet.

Gentleman… I need your assistance. He says that he doesn’t understand, and I know that I don’t… But WHERE is the appeal? I JUST DON’T GET IT!