Never Underestimate

When I first started writing this thing, it was all about hooking up and bagging chicks. A bit into it I found one that once bagged and tagged I couldn't follow my own "Catch and Release" philosophy. So this is just to say that while I have no moral quandary with fucking around (as an idea), I am now completely incapable of it. I found something that transcends my previous actions. No worries to those still in the game, play hard play strong, balls to the wall, and get those trophies, but to those who have that one girl that they say changed everything...I completely fucking understand.

When you first find out a girl is into you (if it is not just some random pickup), odds are you're finding it out from a friend. That friend is like "Bro she's totally into you", so whatever, you're cool right, just grab her number and give her a shout. But you're not cool. Whenever you meet a girl you think has some potential you're the same little punk who had trouble meeting the pretty girl's eye in high school. So you hang onto her number for a week or two before calling her, and you talk and talk, and you say, "We should hang out sometime" to which she responds,

"I'd like that".

Game over, you're fucking floored, three little words and all of a sudden you forget that you need air to live. But you go out, and if you're able to form words that she likes, maybe you can keep hanging out. At this point you talk daily, it seems like a day without her voice is like the sun hasn't risen yet (and I know you're young, but if you had to choose between her and the sun, you'd be one nocturnal son of a gun-Gym School Heroes). Whatever the time line, you'll come to the second round of torture (but the good kind)

I've been thinking about you

You hear this and all of a sudden you've hit a new high, but you've also hit your first low without realizing it, because all of a sudden I'd like that means nothing to you. But who cares right? you have I've been thinking about you so you're flying, but it gets better/worse

I think I'm in love with you

And all of a sudden every word you've ever heard thus far no longer means shit. You entire universe is imploding in the heat of those words, and it's not even certainty, she only thinks it. Of course once the ground is safe, she will stop thinking, and know, and then if she ever says she thinks again, it'll be a fucking insult.


The craziest thing about all of these words is that they meant so much at the time, and mean nothing once the next level is reached. It's really sad, because I think this is why most relationships don't work, because we give too much power to some thoughts, and not enough to others. Love is great, but it's not enough, sometimes she has to be thinking about you, other times she's gotta just think she's falling in love with you again, and sometimes she's just gotta like it. It doesn't even matter what it is, whether it is a movie, a coffee, some drinks, or a marriage proposal, if the answer is "I'd like that" you'll really like it.


Cheer's first round's on...anyone else but me...I'd like that


(Thanks to JM for the original idea)

Bullshit and Confusion

I am convinved that unless I quit I am going to become a partner at my firm. I do not work nearly as hard as I should, and if this is were my company I would shit-can myself in a second (The New York or regualr version, whichever is quicker), but for some reason I am moving ahead at a pretty decent pace. The evaluations I am getting are good (or at least the ones I take the time to do are), some of them are better than good. I have been told by the highest ranking parrtners that they have yet to meet someone at my level that is as responsible and mature as me. They like my dedication and can see big things for me.

Maybe I should let them read this? It should level the playing field I suppose.

Anyways I am a bit dry on the humour front for right now, my life is a bit stagnant for the moment, I am being blown away by the creativity of others, and am more than a bit jealous at seeing people living what should be my life. Watch out though, i feel good things on the way, so stay tuned.

I am a 12 year old

Every now and then you have a defining moment that changes your life forever. For me it was when I figured out that the people who wrote the books I loved to read actually did this for a job. They didn't come home at the end of the day pissed off, or get up super early to go and grind out their lives to pay their bills. They woke up when they wanted, they WROTE and got paid. I was 12 and knew I was going to do that. Then I grew up, and I got scared.

I sold out, I'm not going to lie, I gave up writing to become an accountant. I get up early every day to grind out my life to pay my bills. I get home every night, not pissed off, but definitely not proud. It really sucks. Now obviously this site is an effort to write enough to get the material for a book, but this job is killing me. It's hard to be creative when you're mentally exhausted. So I skip days, and I go on to the "more important things in life"

I went to a concert yesterday, John Mayer. It was amazing, I became 12 again, in wonder that someone could be doing what they love in life. I have no idea what comes next, and how I am going to get to my goal, but I do know this, my days as an accountant are numbered, I need to get out into the world, and out of this sheltered existence.

Also I really need to learn how to play a guitar :)

There's no one else but...

See I can't really put names on here, but if you can imagine a Swiss accent, Girly and her best friend would be cracking up right now. This is because last week I had the good fortune of taking my Girly out on the town, for drinks and dancing. Her best friend and roomie tagged along, and brought a date. This girl is something else let me tell you. I have tried my hand at juggling girls before, and have had the good fortune of having a menagerie of "Speed Dial Associates", these entrepreneurial females that wanted nothing better than to assist me whenever I have found myself alone and in need of their skills. They weren't even hooker's either, although they did have some Ho-ish tendencies. All this is in the past of course, because I am happily locked in. I know I know, way to think it through, one girl forever. If you knew this girl, you'd get it. I really can't explain it any better than that. So for the time being I am out of the game. Ideally it would be a permanent condition, but shit happens, she could go crazy or get hit by a bus (or go crazy and run around hitting buses). enough about that, I'm talking about her friend.

This girl doesn't juggle fuck friends, she actually has two distinct relationships going. Both of whom she claims to be in love with, and both of whom are evidently in love with her. This shit is insanity, mainly because i hear about it almost daily, with this girl freaked out about who to choose, because both guys are pretty cool, and both are willing to give her good stuff.

I am supposed to be good at dispensing advice, so i will do my best to work out this situation. Although this might seem like a nice thing to do, it is mainly so that she can stop waking me up in the morning and sitting on the bed an jabbering my Girly, while I'm nursing some morning wood.

Both guys seem nice, one is foreign, one is from here. You have a problem right here, foreign people can get deported. SO one would think go with the home-grown hero.

Foreign boy is beloved by my Girly, while the HGH is despised. I personally think they are both good guys to hang out with. SO in the interest of friendship, it's one point for the Swiss chalet.

HGH is rich.

Swiss chalet is taking her away for a month in Europe.

HGH is apparently a demon in the sack

Swiss Chalet is apparently a quick study.

Holy fuck that is a tough call. If they were chicks I'd say go for the one with the biggest rack, but in this case I'm going to have to side with the Swiss Chalet, because HGH is way too successful, and makes me feel bad about myself. Besides when Swiss boy gets wrecked and starts bitching about how perfect for her he would be, he buys me drinks.

Cheers! First round's on...whoever Girly's Friend is dating this week.

People that should be shot in the face with Phirranas

My shit is crazy right now. Work decided to pick up right around the time that I was moving, becoming more serious with Girly, and my nuclear family was having a nuclear meltdown. Allow me to postpone the funny for a bit so that I could rant about what (or more clearly who) has been pissing me off.


The following is a list of people who should be shot...out of a cannon...into another cannon, and then shot at a wall of bricks, broken glass and salt.

Recidivist daters

The guy was a dickface every other time you were together, and she made your life a living hell for almost the entire time you were together. Why the fuck do you think this time will be any better. I mean sure he just got out of rehab, and fine she is technically off parole, but I mean my fucking god, is it that difficult to find new mistakes to make that it is absolutely necessary to repeat the old ones. These people should be flayed slowly with a rusted spoon

14 year old girls

True, were we to destroy all of these retards our future on this planet would be somewhat limited, but with the way they speak, is this such a bad thing? I had the pleasure of sitting in front of two of these blissfully ignorant creatures this morning on the bus. A culture that has told them they were ugly on the outside since their birth, has finally made them ugly on the inside as well. They spent the entire busride reading through a celebrity gossip magazine, insulting every dress, haristyle, and skintone they saw. And I swear to Christ when one of them made a slightly droll comment, the other (and I promise I am not making this up) responded LOL. This was a real time conversation, and this fucktard used an instant message slang term. Can we not do the planet a favour and drown these people in the shallow gene pool they came from?

People named Chad

I just think this is an awful name. While we're at it, let's take a quick minute to hit people named, Tucker, Lance, Chester, Scooter, Cooter, JC, JT, JM (actually anyone who refers to themself as initials) with a large plank that has a nail in it. While we're at it let's give a plasma bath to anyone who names their kid Junior, and an acid shower to grown men who refer to their father as "My Daddy". We'll need a couple of Tony's a Vinnie, and maybe a Mike or two, but we can definitely take these people out. Fuck Tucker; Tucker Sucks!!!

Stupid Fucking NickNames

Anyone who allows themselves to be referred to as Teddy, Fuzzy, or Pookie, and any other nick name that makes reference to a bear, should be made to fist fight a Kodiak bear wearing boxing gloves made out of steak. If you can take out 1500 pounds of nature's fury, I'll call you Fuzzy. While we're at it, some of these dickwads above (specifically the Chester's of the world) try and spruce up their name to sound less gay. Chaz is not a suitable replacement for Chester, unless you're Chaz Palmieri, in which case you can do whatever you want.

This is all for now, but I'm sure to be pissed off again in a bit.

Cheer's first round's on...anyone but me! Try fuzzy over there, he doesn't have anymore hands, but he still has a tab at the bar.

Sister Fister

I am seriously a sick bastard I'm sure. My buddy's love hanging out with me. We have a blast every time. Even the shitty times are great because we laugh about them every other time. That being said, there must be something seriously wrong with me, because my friend's don't want me hanging out anywhere near their sisters.

I wonder what it is about guys. We love girls, the trashier the better most of the time. We like hooking up with skeezes in random situations, and love it when our Boyz do too. That being said though, we have this insane idea that our sister's are going to be these pristine angels, that our buddies will somehow corrupt. Gentlemen listen carefully, none of your buddies are rapists. If they somehow manage to bang your sister, she totally wanted it. Also if you think one of your friends might be a rapist, then dude re-evaluate your friendship criteria.

I can't say anything more on the subject so I'm just going to add a list of girls who, if I woke up one day and found out I was their brother i'd put a gun in my mouth. This is either because they are such a ho I'd want to kill myself, or because I know I would have less of a shot getting with them than I do now. Guess which is which.


Pamela Anderson

Carmen Electra

Elisha Cuthbert

Paris Hilton

Kim Kardashian

Anyone of the PussyCat Dolls (do those bitches even have a name)


Jessica Biel


Jessica Alba


Jessica Simpson


Ashlee Simpson


Shannon Tweed


Shanna Moakler


Any Extra on Entourage



that's it for now, I'll probably think of more later.

The Great Debate

Wow I really suck.

It has been like a week since the last time I wrote. I know this because I have been threatened by some people to write something new. I feel like every time I miss a day I need to explain myself, and no matter what I say it'll never get me out of the trouble I'm trying to get out of. I have a fool proof method though, I will try to be incredible vague, and hopefully you'll all work out the details in your head until it satisfies you. So here goes.I haven't written in a week because of (insert plausible excuse here including: Mass Lay-Offs at my company, a death in the family, a religious holiday celebrating the death of my saviour...with chocolate bunnies??? And Ninjas...always ninjas)

So onto the post of the Day. A lot has happened recently, though not enough for me to randomly while away my time talking to people. A conversation I had recently was about me locking down a new apartment (this place is so sweet and dirt cheap, I'm expecting to find a ghost in it). Any way I was speaking to a Jewel of a girl lately (not my girly, but still a cool chick). And she was debating getting a car or renting an apartment. To me it was a no-brainer, and I'm going to explain why.

Being Drunk

Being drunk makes your car useless to you. Being Drunk is exactly what your apartment is for. If you get sauced and drive, you can go to Jail or kill someone. If you get smashed and go back to your apartment, you get labelled as at least marginally responsible (and honestly folks, that is all that I can hope for, the illusion of seminal responsibility).

Furthermore having a car means you never get drunk at a party ever again. Whereas if all you have is a place to crash, you can get messed at other people's place all the time. Make sure to puke in the street and not in your pad though. Seriously who wants to clean that junk.

Responsibilities

You have to pay rent, you have to pay the monthly car bill, so they are tied in this respect. If you have a car though, people expect you to be the designated driver. If you didn't like to drive you wouldn't have bought a car, right? If you have an apartment, people expect you to party hard, but to let them crash out (Seriously Bramo you've gotta help me choose a sofa/your bed bro).

If you drive people around, they rarely cover their costs. You have to pay for gas and people never give you enough. They expect to never pay more than they would for a cab, except you don't have a metre on your car. Apparently in the cabs they take, a trip from the south shore to Laval and back costs five bucks. You look at this moist crumpled blue bill in their hands and you're so pissed that all you can say is, "No thanks, it was my pleasure". If you tell someone they can crash out at your place, they'll chip in halfsies for the cab (which is precisely calibrated so no one is getting gypped), and they'll probably buy you a beer and a shot (which is way more than the measly five they'd offer driver boy). This is starting to look like a lopsided contest already.

Mackin Chicks

You can have the nicest car in the world, as soon as you tell a girly that you're driving your Escalade back to your momma's place so she has to keep her voice down, the only thing going down that night is your hopes of getting laid. You can park your scooter in the closet of your flop house if you want to, tell her you have no room mates and that she can be as loud as she wants to, she'll probably see it as a challenge and gladly take you up on it.

Getting Down

Once the lovin has started the apartment wins hands down, if only by virtue of replay value. If you've had sex in the back of one car you've banged in the back of them all (and if you've banged in the back of them all, then ewww). However there are so many rooms and balconies, and stair cases and fire escapes and roofs to an apartment, that there is a veritable deluge of opportunities for either comfort or spontaneity to your sexual adventures. Enjoy them all.


So basically it appears like a hands down victory for an apartment in the city versus a Mazda at your mom's place. True if you pay rent you have nothing tangible to show for it at the end of it all. As far as I'm considered though you can keep your spare set of tires, your rust and insurance hikes, I'll keep the memories of all the fun times at my first pad. There's a bar right down the street where the locals will be hearing me soon yelling out...

Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! The guy with the car will be having a coke

Thoughts that keep me from making any real progress in life volume 1

I can't believe I got 10 emails from people asking me why I didn't write on Friday. It was April 20th, 4-20. If you guys have no idea why I was unable to string coherent thoughts together, you have not been paying attention.

I sometimes skip days when writing this, not because I am out of ideas, but simply because I sometimes have trouble making an article based on one theme. I also procrastinate and have sex and then I'm tired. Mostly though I get lost in tangents, thoughts that keep me from making any real progress, both here, and everywhere else in life.

Here are some examples:

Have you ever wondered if those hippos were really hungry hungry, or did they have an eating disorder?

What would happen if you googled Google? Also I am afraid to check it out, because I am genuinely afraid it would cause a rift in the space time continuum.

Why is it that you Girlz want to go out and do something (nothing specific just SOMETHING)whenever us Boyz have a good groove going, where we have a nice sandwich a big glass of something cold and a remote control and/or a video game at the farthest level we have been to. Is it a game you play with us, like when we wave a bone in front of a dog, to see it go up on two legs.

Why is it that most guys find music by Bon Jovi, N'Sync, Bryan Adams, and John Mayer gay? I mean with the exception of that one member of N'Sync, these guys have thought up tunes that make the girlies swoon. If you take a weekend to learn Bed of Roses, Your Body is a wonderland, or Really love a woman, and sing it to any girl, odds are you're going to bang her. That seems pretty un-gay to me.

Is there at this moment somebody somewhere on the other side of the world wondering if at this moment there is somebody somewhere on the other side of the world wondering if at this moment on the other side of the world...(it is a long thought and it took me a few minutes just to write this down).

Do we all see the same colours? I look up at the sky and say it is blue, simply because I have been told that the colour I see when I look up is called blue. How do I know that what I think is blue is not the same colour visually as what you call the colour green. Seriously guys this fucking thought comes back to me too often for it to be healthy.

I bet I could be a really good guitar player. Seriously, no matter how many jump shots I take i will never be as good as Jordan, but I have this recurring thought that with enough practice I could be an amazing guitar player. I have never picked up a guitar because I don't want to kill this potential greatness i feel inside of me.

I have more but as I am writing this at work it is actually becoming an activity keeping me from making any real progress in my career.

Cheers!

Support Single Mother Students, one club at a time

So I went out this weekend, and as always, ended up doing some pretty messed up stuff. I waited for Bramo to meet up with me, for about 2 hours (a word to the wise, if you know a guy who allows people to add an O to the end of his name, odds are he'll always be fucking late, but it'll normally be worth the wait). While waiting I saw two homeless guys get into a fistfight for 20 bucks, I saw a guy get arrested for soliciting a prostitute, and I saw a girl throw up on one pissed off Lebanese shish taouk vendor. He might have been pissed off prior to being the target of projectile vomiting, I am not sure. I am absolutely certain he was upset afterwards. I am also pretty certain that Hameed and Daoud did not do a great job of cleaning up, so I will never eat at this Restaurant.

Now Bram shows up, two hours after the five minutes it was supposed to take, apologizing profusely for his tardiness, and proceeds to take me to an undisclosed location. My pulse quickens slightly as he leads me to a building that houses an ex-girlfriend of mine, but it quickly subsides as I realize that whoever we are going to see is on a lower floor (and subsequently at a lower pay-grade, so hopefully she has lower expectations).

If I was pissed at Bram before, and I can honestly say I was not based on the wicked entertainment this city had already provided me, I am definitely not pissed anymore, as this apartment is full of hot drunk chicks. I automatically know this is going to be a good night, as the girls unanimously decide to hit a strip club. I was mistaken.

Boys never bring chicks to a strip club, it fucking sucks. They are checking out the chicks, but complaining about how fake they look and how much they're all whores. Of course they're whores, they get naked for money, you knew this when you walked in. Being taken aback by whores at a strip club is like walking into a butcher and saying, "Hmmm there sure is a lot of meat here". A strip club is a lot like a butcher actually, except if you eat the meat here you get kicked out.

Also guys like the fakeness, it's a plus for us. And not even in the way you think either. I mean fake tits are cool and all, but it's more the fake attitude we dig. These girls aren't real at all. When they are dancing for us, they are acting like they enjoy taking care of us, and never ask for a backrub. If they have a problem with their body they fix it, surgically if they have to. They don't set emotional mine fields for us to slip in, they don't bitch about body parts , they nip their tits, tuck their butts, pump their lips and zip them while they're at it. A woman that never has a headache, never has a period, loves to fool around, and doesn't talk about their day. These women are fucking fake, and you noticing their tits ladies is an extreme example of superficiality.

So basically Boyz, if you want to enjoy a strip club, leave the ladies at home, they're just going to make you feel awkward for wanting to see boobs, and the ones that enjoy it, are way to many hassles outside of the club for you to deal with. Leave the skirts at home, and hit the club with your buddies. and if you see me in the midst of all the luscious ladies you might hear me yell,

Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me!

And remember, there's no sex in the champagne room.

The Toine test, or How much do you really love me?

So I can start by saying I'm sorry for not posting a new article since Wednesday night (for Thursday), or I can say fuck you, I took a 3 day weekend and wanted to enjoy it. It's bad enough I am addicted to Adsense and Facebook (Girly commenting that I checked every day and that was a lot, her not knowing that for every one time she saw me, I checked like 3 times that she didn't). I had to stay away from a computer to enjoy the fresh air.

I spent some time with my Pops this weekend, and as always when I'm with him I feel like I can do anything. I feel bad for those out there that have never felt the unconditional support of a parent. And I'm not talking about you people out there who have parents that are proud that you're going into actuarial studies or medicine or I-banking. Your parents aren't proud of you, they're simply happy that you've picked a job that will get them off of their couch and out into the grind. If you think they support you unconditionally try the Toine test. This is a test I have devised and perfected in the only lab that matters, the streets. Basically choose a "good" career (I chose accounting). The more likely this career is to generate a steady revenue, the better. Now get 99% through the completion of this degree, and stop doing it. I have 87 credits completed of a 90 credit undergrad program. Not having completed has stopped me from graduating, and pursuing any further education. Now tell your parents that you would forsake guaranteed employment and a shitload of money to do what you actually love. I of course want to be a writer. Perhaps you want to be a painter or a chemist, or a mercenary for hire. In any event the less likely this is to provide you with decent money the better. All your parents want for you is your happiness right? They should have no problem supplementing your income while you eat golden grahams and write then.

Go ahead and try this out, you'll see how full of shit your parents probably are. I know my mom is, she'll barely look at me anymore, and told me I can't go visit my grandmother again until I have a diploma. Considering my grandmother is half senile, and keeps calling my Jo, I don't understand why such advanced education is necessary. Maybe my mom thinks I was studying to be a doctor.

My dad however loves that I'm such a goof off. And while my parents are separated, I don't think it's a ploy for my love. He genuinely loves hearing about my daily stupidities and has no idea why I wanted to be a numbers guy to begin with. He can't wait to get to a computer to read my daily column, and bust a gut during the one night stand article(he's recovering nicely, I gave him ice cream!!!). He also can't wait for me to quit my job and travel around the world. He believes that retirement is wasted on the old. Young people should enjoy life while they're fearless, and settle down into work when they're old.

So go ahead tell your parents that you want to give up business to be a clown, see how much they laugh. And when you pussy out under the weight of the guilt you can tell them you were joking. They will laugh nervously and might even give you 20 bucks and tell you to go let go of some steam, you crazy kid. And when you get to the bar to drown your sorrows (this will be the only source of happiness in your life, as you are about to sell yourself into a career you hate for the next 40 years or so), you'll hear me yelling

Cheers! First round's on...my DAD!!!