"Drinking & Exercising" or "The Perfect T Repellent"

So a buddy of mine just called me to see if I want to hang out this weekend. Normally I would be down for anything as long as the GLW is on board and as she's friends with his Wife I was optimistic.

I was even more optimistic when he informed me that some mutual friends were hosting a century club at a gym they own. After hours aggressive drinking at an unusual location? 9 times out of 10 I'm in. (For those of you unfamiliar with the fratastic: century club is a drinking game where all participants consumes one shot of beer a minute for 100 minutes.)

I should have paid more attention to the location: a gym.

Apparently good old fashioned irresponsible inebriation is not enough fun for these whack-jobs; they had to throw in a twist. Not only are they going to drink a shot of beer a minute for 100 minutes they are also planning to attempt one pull up a minute for 100 minutes.

Fuck. That.

Seriously I can not think of a more effective way to make certain I will not attend a social function, or any function for that matter, than making pull ups a mandatory aspect of attendance.
To be clear: I hate pull ups. I more than did my share of them in the Marine Corps and you can bet your last dollar I will never, ever, participate in anything that involves mandatory pull ups in a large group again. Gosh Darn 90% of the reason I left the Marine Corps after 8 years of faithful service (I have the certificate to prove it) is that I am fucking sick of fucking pull ups.
Push Ups? Fine.
Sit Ups? OK
A fucking Half-Marathon? Give me a beer at the end and I'm in.
Pull ups, Chin ups or any variant there of? Fuck yourselves and go die in a fire.

Sons of Bitches. Fucking pull ups, what were they thinking?
-T

"Pervert in a Prius" or "The Ultimate Awareness Aid"

http://www.thisislincolnshire.co.uk/news/Driver-caught-pleasuring-wheel-faces-jail-sentence/article-2405643-detail/article.html
Driver showed women his penis and pleasured himself while travelling at 55mph

Glenn Flello.
A MASTURBATING motorist who drove alongside a woman driver on the A46 is facing jail.
In addition to distressing the motorist on the A46 south of Lincoln, Glenn Flello, 28, also deliberately pleasured himself in front of four teenage girls on three occasions while driving in the Market Rasen area.
Yesterday at Lincoln Magistrates' Court, he pleaded guilty to four charges of intentionally exposing his genitals.
Prosecuting, Marie Stace said Flello's lewd behaviour on the A46 took place between Winthorpe roundabout near Newark and Swinderby roundabout at around 5.50pm on March 18.

Reading from the victim's police statement, Miss Stace told the court: "I was travelling at approximately 55 miles per hour when the male raised his bottom from the driver's seat and had his hands around his erect penis.
"He was looking at me and it shook me up and made me angry.
"He beeped his horn constantly and I also had the sensation that his car was edging closer to me and he was still carrying out the same actions as before.
"I was not only disgusted because he was grinning right at me but I did not know he had control of his vehicle."

"I heard a beeping and a man flashing," Miss Stace read from the girl's witness statement.
"I saw he had his left hand on his penis and his right hand on the wheel."
On December 11, two teenage girls were walking along Caistor Road in Market Rasen at around 6pm.
They reported that they saw a man masturbating in his car.
"His penis was quite big and erect and I felt sick and shook up," Miss Stace read from one of the girl's witness statements.

Really dude? Wait till you get home. You've got to marvel at this guy's thought process though. One day he was probably driving along minding his own buisness and suddenly his pants got a little shorter. No real reason, sometimes that thing has a mind of its' own. Maybe he gave it a smack; you know "Act right You Bastard I'm driving" sort of thing.
Maybe he enjoyed it a little more than he intended. Maybe nobody noticed.
Suddenly dude is on a slippery slope and things got out of hand (or in hand whatever)

Point is no one, I don't care how sick or depraved, wakes up one morning and intentionally sets out to wax weasel in mid-morning traffic. Maybe I'm being naive but I just can't see it. There has to be something we're not hearing here. There just have to be some mitigating circumstances.
The only excuse for pounding the porpise while driving I can think of is if you're on a really long drive and you feel like you're going to fall asleep. Not just drowsy I mean passing out at the wheel status.
You know why?
The one thing no guy has ever fallen asleep doing: shimmying the salami.
Scientific Fact.

So ladies ask yourself: would you rather Glenn here fell asleep at the wheel, swerved into oncoming traffic and killed 48 schoolchildren on there way to adopt puppies? Or would you rather he take the law, among other things, into his own hands in the interest of public saftey?
Remember if those schoolchildren don't get to the pound all of those puppies are going to be put down as they are suffering from emotional neglect and it would be the only humane thing to do.

So what's your choice? That's what I thought.

On a more serious note did it sound like the woman who gave the last statement was kind of in to it? Sick and shook up huh? More like hot and bothered!

Just kidding of couse, on all of this. Except for the staying awake thing it's quite a "handy trick" if you're on a "long haul".
-T

Potential-e-Wasted does not advocate public masturbation. Unless in circumstances previously okayed by Penthouse Forum.

Posts are coming.

I know I'm not good enough to tease you with a trailer post like this but whatever. It's not like I'm getting paid for this shit.

Anyway, no story short I've been busy and lazy and bored (no those are not in any way contradictory) and that unholy trifecta has kept me from spilling my nonsense garbage into your web browsers. Pathetic excuse for an excuse I know but no more!

I refuse to be mastered by my ennui! It is a silly French word that I want nothing to do with so as soon as I think of something half worth writing about I'm going to be all over it. There's plenty of shit going on in the world right now that I find sufficiently disgusting/ outrageous for me to rant about.

I'll give you something interesting tomorrow. Or I wont.

But I will.

Bate your Breath Bitches, Bate your Breath.
-T

"Wisdom" or "The Ancient Japanese Art of Post-Fail"

Haikus are easy

But sometimes they don't make sense

Refrigerator.

"Muse is Freakin' Awesome" or "The Law of T-Shirt Relativity and Oher Life Lessons"

So, The GLW and I attended the Muse & Silversun Pickups concert last night and while the show itself was fantastic the performance of many of the concert goers left a lot to be desired.

Of course I am speaking of the douche-tastic attendees who think it's really cool to go to a concert, purchase a t-shirt and then change into said t-shirt for the duration of the concert. Lame.

Seriously do they think anyone cares that they bought a fucking T-shirt? Why did they change into it? I cant think of a single good reason to change clothes at the Oracle Arena. Unless of course they spilled a 12 dollar beer all over their American Apparel V-neck.

This issue falls under a little rule I like to refer to as the law of T-shirt space-time relativity. That is: the further you get in both space and time from the purchase of item of band (or place) related paraphernalia the cooler it gets. I'll give you an example: 2 years ago when I was in Prague I purchased a Praha Drinking Team shirt. Anyone who has ever been to Prague knows exactly what I am talking about. The shirts have a picture of the Czech flag emblazoned with an artists rendering of a mug of frothy Beer, framed by the script "Praha Drinking Team". After purchasing the shirt I immediately stowed it in my suitcase knowing that the further I got, in both space and time, from my purchase of that shirt the cooler it would become. Two years later on the other side of the fucking world? That shirt is dynamite.
This rule applies to sports teams, cities and yes, even bands. So the 19 year old alt rock enthusiast hurriedly changing clothes 10 feet away from the souvenir kiosk at Oracle five minutes after purchasing his shirt and surrounded by his pretentious posse who bought and are also wearing said shirt?
You just paid 30 dollars to look like a flaccid dong. Or even worse, an unremarkable flaccid dong in a sea of flaccid dongs.
The only people worse are the jackasses wearing the opening band's shirts and looking all superior and shit because they think it means they have more refined tastes, telling anyone who'll listen that they "actually enjoyed the opening band better, cause it was more about the music..." Fuck, that pisses me off, I can just picture them now, closing their eyes as they rhapsodize the merits of local music and tofu. Bleh. You dick heads are at the Oracle Fucking Arena not some hole in the wall jazz club. Go fuck yourselves.
I just can't see the logic behind it.
In any case it has made me want to design a T-shirt, strictly for concert attendance, It would read "Don't be a Douche, put you're Tshirt on at home."
So there, T's back handing out life lessons from atop my pillar of un-impugnable perfection, I'll try to post more frequently.
-T

PS Since when does a McDonald's with a 24hr drive through stop accepting Credit Cards at Midnight? BULLSHIT, lazy ass fast-food workers just didn't want to make me a fucking Cheeseburger. That shit sucks and it's not like you can complain, those crack-heads would just take a dump in my Diet-Coke or something.

"KGB KGB" or "Indignant Texting, A How To Guide"

For those of you unfamiliar with the service KGB is a text message research service that reports to be able to answer any question quickly and truthfully. Why anyone would think this business model was laudable (or even practical) in an age when anybody who can send a text message can also access the Internet is beyond me, but whatever. The fact that I have used the service several times, always while intoxicated, proves that there is some merit to the idea.

You'll notice I say that all of my correspondence with KGB has been inebriated, this has led to some chuckle worthy interactions with the service and my arguing every answer they have ever given me. Their answers have never satisfied me and have led to my supposition that in reality KGB is just some dude with a cellphone and the Internets surfing wikipedia.
For Example on last Fridays winter Olympics opening ceremonies in Vancouver:

ME: What time (PST) will the Olympic Torch be lit at the 2010 Winter Olympics?

KGB: Torch Relay began in Athens Greece on October 30 2009 and will arrive in Vancouver British Columbia; February 12 2010; for the opening celebration day.

First of all all let me state that I know that this was an impossible question, akin to asking what the final score of a game will be while the game is in process. There was literally some dude running with a torch and they couldn't be sure exactly what time he would get there. I was just looking for a ball park guess. The damn opening ceremonies were fucking 4 and 1/2 hours long and, with the exception of the lighting effects, asinine and boring. I was hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel. What I received from KGB was akin to a middle schooler's attempt at a pop quiz question they didn't expect. They were just hoping that if they told me enough information related to the data I requested then I would give them some fucking extra-credit or something. Instead of telling me I was an asshole for asking an impossible question or even just providing me with a simple "I don't know, who do you think I am Doc Brown?" They sent me back all of the periphery information they could, brutally abused two poor, innocent semi-colons and left me more than a little ticked off.
To Summarize: I didn't ask where and when it left from, where it would arrive or on what fucking date it would arrive. Did these assholes really think I would pay them for that tripe? I asked them on February 12th so obviously I was watching the opening ceremonies (and by the way wasn't it lit after midnight on the 13th?). It's like they were hoping that if they buried me with enough superfluous bullshit I'd just accept it and pay the charge. Needless to say I responded:

ME: I asked for a time not a date; don't charge me for a nonanswer. (sic)
(just to be a dick a used a semi-colon as god intended, to join two sentences.)

KGB: We apologise you will not be charged for this message. One free credit has been added.

Bitches - even their apologies are ambiguous. Does that mean I was was charged for the first message? If so then I declare shenanigans. I still have a free credit though. Any thoughts on what my question should be?
-T

"BJ Banking" or "Writing is Easier When Other People Do It For You"

Sorry the posts have been so sparse recently but it's not like I'm getting paid for this so what did you expect? Seriously.
I've got a ton of topics coming up so expect a post a day for the next week but I wanted to kick off this smorgasbord of delicious diction with a guest spot, the first in Potential-E-Wasted's short history. I know you were all expecting to here from DoJ but apparently he has decided that the most appropriate forum for his writing is Facebook (Seriously, dude writes paragraphs in his status updates, maybe it's sour grapes but I hate that shit) so instead I bring you the misogynistic musings of Mr. Todd.
My friend D on Shallowhags has repeatedly spoken from the view that happy and contended people make boring bloggers and Mr. Todd proves this point. Kid is just f-ing angry, half of the time I don't think he even knows why, It sure makes for some interesting reading though. With out further ado Here's Mr. Todd to kick off the week.


Relationships are all about compromise.

You have to learn each other’s boundaries, when it’s (in)appropriate to cross them, and that you have to give a little in order to get a lot. And when it’s someone that you truly care about, the simple act of giving can be its own reward in and of itself. All non-sociopaths understand this (unless they are true genius sociopaths in which case they may learn to imitate normal human behavior in order to carry out their nefarious plots). (Ed: Shit, he's on to me)
With regards to relationships, I am a giver. To be honest, being a giver is something that I enjoy without expectation. It can be its own prize. That does not mean, however, that this squirrel doesn’t like to get his nut from time to time. I am speaking of course about blow-jobs. (Ed: Of course.)
When a man does his best to please a woman day-in day-out (and does it well I might add), where does all that pleasure go? (Ed: Good Question)
I’ll tell you where it should go: the Blow-Job Bank. Every time a man goes out of his way to make sure that his woman is satisfied and demonstrates he’s willing to go that extra mile, he’s making a donation to the Blow-Job Bank’s 401k plan.
Women would do well to keep track of the savings in the Blow-Job Bank, as her man may wish to dip into them from time to time. For example, it is only fair that, when a woman is unable to receive sexual favors say during a certain disturbing time of the month, she order the cockmeat sandwich. (Ed: The best way I can think of avoiding a blow job would be by referring to it as a cockmeat sandwich)
Just because she’s bleeding all over the furniture doesn’t mean that we both need to suffer. As far as I’m concerned menstruation is myth created by Nazi-feminists to prevent us from blowing loads. The day that my dick starts to bleed, I vow to go down on her for hours. Fair is fair.Until that day, however, we men should be entitled to withdraw from the Blow-Job Bank at will. Unless of course, she prefers the butt.
-Mr. Todd

Potential-E-Wasted would like to remind all of our readers that the opinions expressed by our guest columnists are their opinions alone, and in no way represent the position of this blog or its' staff. Unless of course your really do prefer the butt. Then we (and our staff) are down.

-T