February 18th- Los Angeles

Waiting to board my flight, I am sitting in a rather comfortable airport. This may very well be the best airport experience I've had (is it a coincidence that this is the earliest I've traveled?).

Anyway, a quick post to give you all a bit of insight as to what my current playlist is:

1) "California Love"- 2Pac f. Dr. Dre. If only I had a boombox (or, better yet, a ghetto blaster)...I'd be the coolest kid in the state. While we're here...this may be one of the better music videos of all time. It's like Mad Max, only with Dre (a magical combination of early, pre-anti-Semite Mel Gibson and early, pre-Eminem Dr. Dre)!

2) "California Dreamin' "- Mamas and the Papas. The song makes me think of autumn, though it's quite appropriate for a late-winter excursion out west.

3) "All Star"- Smash Mouth. Why? 'Cause it's the most absurdly cheesy song I can think of, and yet...I envision LAX playing it upon my arrival...what that says about me remains to be seen.

4) "California"- Phantom Planet. Because if I am ever to find Rachel Bilson, I will have to BECOME Seth Cohen...or Sandy Cohen, with his monster brows...wish me luck.

5) "Folsom Prison Blues" - Johnny Cash- Why? Because Johnny Cash is a fucking badass, that's why.

6) " Let Go"- Frou Frou. This song reminds me of a road trip to Long Island, making all sorts of mistakes and outlandish statements, and eventually coming upon Dogshit Alley with this song blaring over the radio....I do love me some nostalgia.

7) "What Goes Around"- Justin Timberlake. I haven't been able to bring myself to listen to this album at all in any capacity over the last almost year and a half. However, this song was on the radio in Miami and it really hit me as something funky to listen to. Gotta love songs you can shake your moneymaker to.

8) "Shake It"- Metro Station....because I will be shaking it fast.


(side note: Gentlemen, it has been brought to my attention that women do not appreciate the comment "sick dumper", not matter how pure intentions may be. This begs the question, 'when did we get to a point that ferocious deucers are not to be admired/complimented?'. That is all.)

I'm on my way, dear...(note: sick dumper)

This is my first time out on the left coast (far better than using legitimate directions), and so I am stoked to catch a glimpse of the mighty Pacific. Time to board. Californiaaaaaaaaaaaa here I come!

February 14th- Baby-Making Music

Oh, hello. Glad to see you stopped by the ol' internet on your way back to the bedroom. Did you get the chocolate-covered strawberries? Good. And the Cheez Doodles? Nice. Have you agreed upon a safe word? Try "shoelace".

Anyway, for all of you lovers out there, I thought I would share a few pointers with you. See, in today's world, we're all scared shitless: our jobs have never been less secure (for those of us who have jobs), which invariably will have an impact on our homes, families, and livelihood. So what's a guy/gal to do? Procreate (the only reason for having relations, as far as I/the Catholic church/Stephen Colbert is concerned), like mad! So I've collected a few audio samples to help you and your partner/flavor of the month/mistake along in times of passion.

NOTE: I cannot be held responsible for the eroticism that spews forth as a result of listening to these songs. Just play one at a time until you've finished your business... your partner won't mind. As for the FotM/Mistake, fuck him/her. Isn't that the point of what you're doing anyway?

1) La Bouche- Be My Lover. Seriously, this will take away any and all need for foreplay.

2) The Real McCoy- Another Night. The thumping bass line sets the tone, you just plug/ride away! Perfect.

3) DJ Assault- Ass N Titties. This is from my brother's middle school mix. It's not for the faint of heart, as it truly contains poetic verse that would make Shakespeare sound like a mere postmodern poet (they don't even fucking rhyme!!).

4) Seal- Kiss From a Rose. I slow-danced with a girl to this song once. In order to avoid a paternity suit, we've not spoken since. Effectivity rating: 1000% (just don't watch the video. It's not from Batman Forever. Remember, you're supposed to be making babies).

5) Europe- The Final Countdown. Cool trick: time your intercourse so that this coincides with climax...but like, not until at least the guitar solo. Shouldn't be too hard. It's not like anyone can resist reaching climax after listening to these five songs. Really. I'll bet you can't. And if you say you can, I won't believe you. Sting couldn't even do it.


Whether or not Sting watches every breath I take, or how much he enjoys tantric sex, he
can't help but shudder in orgasmic delight over "The Final Countdown"


So there you have it. By now you have planted the seeds of parenthood (unless you wore Hellfire condoms), so I expect my invitation to the baby shower sometime in the early fall.

February 13th- Hodgepodge

In the spirit of this bastardized holiday (Valentine's Day), I politely suggest to all of you who will be exchanging bodily fluids in the heat of passion to wrap it up. Seriously, if you're going to get impregnated (or impregnate), do it some other time. Making a baby on Valentine's Day is a cliche. There. I've said my part (yes, I'm sure that this is fact. I will not look it up).

The Man in Black and I wish you and yours a lustful VD (Day)

In the meantime, there are pressing things to get to in the world (mostly just bitching and moaning; it IS still February after all)....so here goes:


Let's bring back "scrub". People seem to get offended when I say "scumbag", even though I'm not swearing AND even though it doesn't just apply to a guy (read: girl, aka "pigeon") who can't get no love from me (or one who does this). I used it today in context and it was quite amusing, so I'm asking for your cooperation in bringing back this dis (young whippersnappers and their dissing, like it's 1996 all over again).

"Scrub". Note the work goggles.

Alright, so it's confession time: I blew it....actually, poor choice of words. I broke my February fast. I am surprisingly disappointed with myself. I have not yet figured out whether I will try again for a 28-day lack of masturbating or whether I will try something else (that said, WOW...exceptionally gratifying). I guess it really just got to me. As I stated at the beginning of the month, what has been lovingly referred to as any number of asinine activities ("punching the clown" always makes me laugh...I should give my crotch a rainbow afro) serves so very many purposes (among them, boredom relief and stress management). I have considered the health risks associated with NOT doing it (increased irritability), and the health risks with doing it (one-way ticket to Hell(?). Also, hairy palms). I think I'll take the hair, thank you very much.

So to complete the post, I thought I'd finally post my response to the new U2 single, "Get On Your Boots":

It's dirty. A sexy dirty. I am a big fan of the punk-funk intro, with the Edge's guitar riff and cymbol-happy Larry going to town. The verses have a percussion part that reminds me of Miami, and carries an essence of a white button-down and a cigarette, full of swagger and machismo.

Not even Bono is as big a chest hair offender, chico.

"You don't know/ and you don't get it, do you?" and the chorus/bridge into the second verse really sounds like 60's surf rock, like a west coast sound which I am currently enamored with (which also makes me want to drink a gin and tonic). Bono really seems to soar with his voice, though I'm not sure how ecstatic I am with the lyrics (probably because I lack sexy boots, I just possess a ferocious dumper). His voice in the verses bounces in that slinky manner not unlike the groovy bass line of "Love and Peace or Else" on How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. Adam Clayton's bass-playing, while not as intricate or sophisticated as others out there, really is quite subtly alluring (trying hard to refrain from overusing "sexy"). All in all, I want to have sex to this song, and I can't think of a better endorsement for it. Also enjoying the video.

Well, I suppose that's enough for one night. Now, on to the show!

February 12th- Miami

So I spent a week in Miami, which was nice. Very relaxing, and very low-key, which is JUST what I needed (other things I need include this, this thing right here, and this). There's a lot to enjoy down there, the most notable of which was its uncanny lack of resemblence to New York weather. I rather enjoyed high-60s/low-to-mid-70s weather all week, and thoroughly enjoyed seeing people wandering around off the beach with coats and scarves. It's too bad, really, that they don't get to perfect the coat shuffle that removes snow from one's coat (and invariably makes you look like these guys).

Not really a "need" per se, though it should be noted that....well, now I've lost my concentration.

Also of note was seeing the Atlantic Ocean again. Good to see you, old friend. Oh, and eating milkshakes on South Beach at midnight...scandalicious! Anyway, Miami is a very fun city. With the lights and the architecture and the beautiful (if not all real) people, it's a very sexy place (just so we're clear, I mean sexy in the sense that if I had to attach a city to what I wanted sex to be like, it'd be Miami. I do not want to misuse "sexy", or have anyone misinterpret my use of it. I would have sex with Miami if it were a woman. I would probably not want to engage in any long-term relationship with it (too superficial), and I would CERTAINLY want to have a healthy supply of protection (too charming), and I would probably give a false number just in case for some strange reason, Miami were the woman who was satisfied by hours of excuse-making, post-coitus, because again, I would just want to sleep with her. My heart's in Galway, anyway).

Yes, I am hoping that this picture distracts you from thinking about my gratuitous use of parentheses.

So yeah, Miami was good. Next stop: Los Angeles.

February 3rd- Apologies/What now?

Alright, I'll admit I've been slacking. The last two days I've been feeling awful. I spent Super Bowl Sunday NOT drinking beer as I had originally hoped, but laying in bed, and not in a fun way. Yesterday, I rolled around in bed until 1:30 looking for cool pockets in my sheets/pillow (note: unsuccessful). It's been alternating chills/hot flashes, and yet, no period...so there are silver linings (but no wings).

No, not THOSE wings, either. I am not a representation of Led Zeppelin.
Also, my crotch did not disappear. Thank your lucky stars, Rue McCLanahan.



Anyway, a final thought or two about January: It was a successful month. I went without drink, and to be honest, it wasn't all that tough. While the desire for an occasional beer on Friday nights was present, it was not too hard to suppress. AND since I'm sick, it's been almost a full 5 weeks without a drink. I'm pretty excited about that. Another silver lining: no drunk dials.


Rue McClanahan: appreciative of a lack of drunk dials.

Now, onto February. February is my least favorite month, for many reasons. One: it's winter. Fuck winter. Two: Valentine's Day. Fuck it. Jacked-up prices for unappreciated gestures? Just let it happen any other day for less and leave me enough for some food (or alcohol). Three: No significant football or baseball . Four: Anniversary of Pop passing away.

V-Day equivalent of "Whatever I can get"



Now, perks of the month include: pitchers and catchers reporting,....aaaaaand....well, it's a short month. THIS YEAR, however, I've decided to throw in a couple of trips into my February schedule in an attempt to shake the doldrums of the month. I leave for Miami tomorrow, and will also be heading to Los Angeles for my first taste of the West coast towards the end of the month.
I am pretty excited, as a much-needed break from the snow-covered area of my residence is finally RIGHT here (no link; it is not literally right here in front of your eyes).

So what to give up this month? Well, since I ate chicken last night and since I've already sworn at my inability to consume chili, there's only one really tough thing to give up: masturbating.

Suicide mission? Perhaps. It's one of those things that is a true challenge. Why is this tough? Is it really THAT bad? Well, it's a multi-purpose activity. Stress relief? Check. Boredom curer? Check. Subject of countless jokes and ribbing? Check. Alternative to shoveling the driveway? Check.

Cons to the situation: a near Pavlovian response to getting in the shower (no judging), no one stepping up to lend a helping hand (Get it?)
Pros: If I can do it, I will never doubt myself again. Also, letting Ms. McClanahan wait a month will make March 1st a truly magical day (and night).
Silver linings: There is no fight over my crotch; I am not letting anyone down in doing this.

In an unrelated note, I will also be giving up tweezers this month.

Now, since this is a rather sensitive issue (and since I'd be willing to bet that more than half of the readership of this blog consists of family members), my updates will not be detailed. If you want a good indication of how it's going, check my hands for hair.

I guess that's all for now. Time to start packing!