My \”15 Minutes,\” Starting… NOW.
I originally started this whole diary-bit for many of the same reasons as most of you that are reading this.
It looked fun, it was free, and I loved the idea of a place where I could give the ol' sarcasm glands a squeeze once in a while, lest they fill to bursting and explode all over the old lady in the \"Express\" checkout lane that does nothing in her life \"expressly\" and is never, EVER, ready to \"check out\" when the time comes. Instead she starts writing in her fucking checkbook only after she's examined her receipt with the same scrutiny that I give my cocknballs after I wake up next to a girl I've just met.
I never imagined what would evolve from it though (the blog, that is, not the clitty litter). I won't go into details, instead I'll puss out, and just say that more life-altering shit has happened to me as a result of this blog than I could have ever even possibly pondered.
I've \"met\" a ton of quality, quality people, and they all make me feel all rosy inside. Dog Bless all of your li'l pea-pickin' hearts.
WarCry, I thought you were fuckin' with me, but I checked, and you started a damn ring. I asked you not to, but you did anyway, and now I may actually start to develop a \"healthy\" opinion towards my sexy-ass self, Dog Forbid (This is where I get all \"Aw-Shucksy\" and shit).
So, thanks and whatnot to my readership, and watch out for my ego, that mothah may get wedged in the doorway like Winnie-the-fuckin'-Pooh at Rabbit's house.
Today, though... Today marked a new experience in my \"blog-life.\"
I randomly met my first \"fan.\"
I didn't promise I wouldn't mention her in here, I just told her I wouldn't write about the whole experience and mention her name.
And I'm a man of my word.
So Christie, I'm not going to tell everyone about how you checked my ID and first told me that I didn't look like I was 30 at all, before you looked at the name, gave me a double-take, and asked if I played hockey and had a blog.
I told you I wouldn't write all about that, and I'm a stand-up guy all the way.
(smooches to you, babydoll. Now stalk me like you've never stalked before).
As if this wasn't enough, in the same day I was walking across a very crowded parking lot of a major home-improvement store, and narrowly avoided having me and Asshead turned into road-kites by an outrageously overdone 4x4.
Big, yellow, and nasty, I was surprised that this screaming piece of I-don't-have-a-small-penis-I-really-need-this-for-climbing-the-sides-of-buildings didn't have a Confederate Flag in the back window and 197 stickers supporting \"W\" as well as Calvin pissing on the head of Osama.
*Side Note*
Do you honestly need a sticker that proclaims your stance on Terrorism? What is it that you expect from us, the sticker-viewing populace?
\"Right on, man! Them bastards flew some planes into big buildings, killing thousands, their boss DESERVES to have a cartoon character urinating on his head! Yeah! Fuck anybody that could possibly see that sticker and think that those fuckers are puffin' it up with Allah and 27 virgins!\"
(shaking head)
*End Side Note*
After averting death-by-idiot-redneck, I overheard a snippet of conversation from the two dudes behind me along the lines of:
\"Holy Shit, that was almost a Pork-mobile.\"
\"A what?\"
\"You know, that Pork Tornado guy, when he writes in that other place, he wrote about Super Machines and their right of way and stuff.\"
\"Oh yeah, with flame-throwers and shit. Yeah, that was funny.\"
I'd stopped and turned when I heard the \"Pork\" reference, but I realized that, if they indeed read his writings in \"that other place\" then there's a good chance that they know who I am as well.
This is where that whole \"feeling-like-a-celebrity\" thing cuts both ways.
Yes, I wanted to proudly exclaim something about how the famous \"Pork Tornado guy\" and I are friends, and the fact that I only touched his penis by accident (ACCIDENT, I tell you!), and what a SkullSplittin' time I had partying it up with him at New Year's, and other such self-aggrandizing nonsense, but I didn't.
Like the chick that checked my ID, I felt a little weirded out.
I thought, \"If these two dudes have read anything of my blog, what is it that they think of me?\"
To be honest, if I read my shit, and then met me randomly in person, I'd think I was kind of a Fucking Idiot. Funny or not, I'd probably avoid me as much as humanly possible. That, or ridicule the fuck out of me for retarded dancing and kilt-wearing and such (Seriously, I WOULD. C'mon, they're such easy targets).
Of course, what goes into this blog isn't EXACTLY who I am.
But damn... it's close.
Close enough that I feel funky about strangers knowing how I dance, what a chick I am, or any details of my life for that matter.
While standing there, amusedly staring at these two and eavesdropping on their conversation, I just smiled.
The guy that mentioned Pork gave me a look, and then a double-take, but I'm fairly certain that this was only because some random guy and his bitchy little dog where stopped in a parking lot and staring at him.
His face changed from the curious, who-the-hell-are-you-buddy look, to one of slight recognition, and he raised his hand and said, \"Hey...\"
I nodded my head in a hey-what's-up-you-might-know-me-'cause-I'm-a-complete-retard kind of way, \"What's up?\"
Smiling now, undoubtedly full of recognition and admiration, \"You don't work at Lucent, do you?\"
I laughed, heartily, for I once again fell victim to my shazbattin' ego, and said, \"Ha ha, no, I don't work for Lucent.\"
He kept a slight look of recognition on his face, but dropped his smile and said, \"Oh, thought I knew you from somewhere.\"
I laughed again, shook my head, and led the ever-crotch-sniffing Asshead to my Racing-Striped-RedNecked-Out Dakota.
We were parked across the same aisle and, as I loaded my bitch into my pickup and they opened their respective vehicle doors, he asked, quietly enough to be indirect, yet loud enough to be heard, \"You don't wear a kilt do you?\"
I turned and smiled my patented shit-eating grin.
His look of slight recognition blossomed into full recognition, and he said, \"Judd? Right?\"
\"That's me,\" I replied, flexing and readying my right hand for the impending autograph request.
\"Right on,\" he replied, nodding and smiling broadly.
He then climbed into his buddy's SUV and they drove away.
I stood there for a full minute before I realized that they weren't, in fact, hastily retrieving their girlfriends and returning with offers of \"loaning\" them for oral sex, or at the very least, Beer.
With my over-inflated ego now bruised, and my dog curiously tearing at my foil-wrapped-vendor-burger, I climbed into my truck and headed home, sans autographs and \"loaner\" oral sex.
Humility's a bitch, ain't it?
You know I lovers you all though, right?
Except YOU, Fuck-o, for driving away and not offering me your woman or beer.
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.You Give Me Money, I Dance, That's How it Works.
There's satisfying about the end of a Cold, about the wheeze that builds into a sputter, that soon builds into a cough, eventually propelling that chunky glob of phlegm out of your lungs and onto your keyboard.
Jeezus, that was really gross.
Trust me though, reading about it isn't near as disgusting as trying to dig it out from between the \"J\" and \"K\" keys.
Good times.
My head's been cloudy all goddam week, and I can't really even tell the days apart anymore.
So, it was a real surprise to be sitting in BossGuy's office, brainstorming about how to make my \"pet app\" better (read: more moolah), when I got another idea for the betterment of MyCompany.
A good idea.
Cha-as they say-Ching.
My timing couldn't have been better, as my \"performance review\" was scheduled an hour later with VPGuy. I was a bit nervous, as I've been my fair share of \"Drunk Asshole\" around this guy and it was my first review, but it lasted all of five minutes.
What he said was, \"In lieu of your contribution to the company... blah... raise... BIG raise... performance... bonus...\"
What I heard was, \"We love you big time, Judd, here's lots more money.\"
I thanked him and we shook hands.
Then I coughed phlegm on him.
I'm kidding, I aimed it towards his keyboard.
I still feel like hammered shit, but when I came home I told NeighborWife the good news and she caught the rare, but notable, Happy Dance, on film.
Two... Three... Four...
![\"Spank](\"images/happydance1.jpg\")
Smack that ass...
![\"Whiter](\"images/happydance2.jpg\")
It's MY kitchen, and I'll be as White as I want.
![\"House](\"images/happydance3.jpg\")
Fuck that Cold! I'm flyin...
![\"Hack](\"images/happydance4.jpg\")
Fuck that Cold...
![\"JuddHole](\"images/happydance5.jpg\")
I went out and bought D'Kwon's Dance Moves at the thrift store for that one.
![\"I](\"images/happydance6.jpg\")
Shake your tailfeather. Blues Brothers style. Man, I miss Ray Charles.
The shirt I'm wearing was a gift from my roller hockey team when we won our last championship.
The team's name is \"Judd's H0's,\" and the shirt says, \"I (heart) all my H0-H0's,\" with a little Mr-Hanky-Christmas-Poo-lookin' guy on it.
I had absolutely no say in the name, by the way, I wanted us to be \"Bras for Hat Tricks,\" but I was outvoted, and the rink manager wouldn't allow us to be \"Judd's Bitches,\" so the name stayed.
That's cool, 'cause I loves my shirt, and I loves me my H0's.
*Smack* \"Who's yer daddy? Let's dance!\"
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.Drippy Nose Smartass Sucker.
I'm still sick and I feel like ass.
I feel like Assy McAsserton.
I feel like something that Assy McAsserton just scraped off his shoe in disgust.
I tried to follow \"doctor's\" orders, and get rest, but I had a hockey game. Despite the fact that we were soundly shellacked and I worked my ass off, there was still much beer to imbibed of afterward. Hey, I don't make the rules...
I got \"tagged\" for this damn survey, so here it is.
I know, I know, I hate posting surveys... but, I'm a sucker for a beautiful woman.
Coulda been worse. It could've been my answers to some ridiculous sex survey, fortunately those were lost. Really, you don't want to know my personal history with breaking a bone while having a threesome with a gerbil on a swing in the rain with golf clubs while my parents were watching.
THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1) JuddHole
2) SexiestMotherFuckerEver
3) HeyJackassTHREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD :
1) MeFuckYouNasty316
2) ReallyAmSixteenYearOldCheerleader
3) NotAFatHairyPervert
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF :
1) That I'm so Awesome.
2) That I'm so Humble.
3) That I'm so incredibly gassy in the mornings.
THREE THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF :
1) When I scratch my balls on one side for too long, I wear a hole in my jeans.
2) That my balls itch so much... I mean, C'MON.
3) See Number 3 above.
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU :
1) Pickles.
2) The fact that I'm scared of pickles.
3) The fact that you're NOT scared of pickles.
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS :
1) Beer.
2) Chewin' Tobacky.
3) Farmer-blow-snot-rockets.
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW :
1) Carhartt's.
2) Steel-toe boots.
3) Genital Cuff.
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS (at the moment) :
1) Opie Gone Bad
2) The Clintons
3) Myself this Morning in the Shower (I fuckin' rock).
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS (at the moment):
1) That Girl. (The Clintons)
2) Can We Please Have Sex? (Opie Gone Bad)
3) Fat, Hairy and Soapy. (Myself in the Shower)
THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS :
1) Skydiving Nekkid.
2) Surviving the next 1 month, 11 more times.
3) Sex.
THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP :
1) Sex.
2)
3)
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE :
1) I used to be a sperm donor.
2) My little brother was conceived from a batch of frozen baby batter.
3) It could've been mine (cue \"Dueling Banjos\").
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX (or same) THAT APPEAL TO YOU :
1) Possesses heartbeat.
2) Able to move air in to, and out of, their lungs.
3) Idea of having Sex with me doesn't make her throw up in her mouth a little bit.
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES :
1) Sex.
2) Sex with myself.
3) Bee-keeping.
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION :
1) Next door (have you SEEN his TV?).
2) Across the street (have you SEEN his Hot Tub and Hot Wife?).
3) Sex.
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW :
1) Scratch myself.
2) Sex.
3) Stop taking this survey.
THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO :
1)
2)
3)
THREE KID'S NAMES :
1)
2)
3)
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE :
1)
2)
3)
THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY :
1)
2)
3)
THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A CHICK :
1)
2)
3)
THREE CELEB CRUSHES :
1)
2)
3)
THREE PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO TAKE THIS QUIZ NOW :
1)
2)
3)
That's it, I'm spent.
I'm going to write something worth half a shit one a these days...
Til then, take some risks, and watch out for deer.
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.By Doze Is Stuvved Ub.
I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure...
I'm getting old.
Atlanta was the coolest weekend ever, but I think I'm paying for my sinning as I'm sick like a bastard right now. This is nowhere near as cool as being ill like a Beastie, goddamit.
This sucks, I just can't catch a break from drinking and fun.
WHO just said that?
I tried following the advice of my \"doctor,\" about not drinking beer and getting rest, but she's the one that kept me up all night the other night (JUST drinking and talking, unfortunately), and therefore can't be trusted.
I got a Latvian buddy that swears the best way to kill a cold lies in the bottle that he gave me for my 30th birthday.
Kristaldzidrais Vodka.
Don't ask, I don't know how to say it either.
But that shit is good.
He showed me how to drink it properly, and I really did feel better. 'Course I drank enough to not only forget that I had a cold, but also how to walk or pee into any sort of receptacle.
Thank Goodness for my big backyard and it's soft grass. Asshead the Dog is a bit too... inquisitive, though, about what daddy does in the backyard, so don't pet her head or back for awhile, dig?
It's hard to trust that Latvian. When we go out drinking he will either A) introduce himself as \"Jeddy, from Iova,\" and claim he is American born and raised in Des Moines, or 2) say the crudest things imaginable to women, get slapped, and then claim ignorance of our language.
\"I vant to shove my head betveen your legs, and rout like peeg.\"
*SMACK*
(rubbing cheek and pointing at me) \"Vaht? I don' spig Eeenglish.\"
During one of our ice hockey games, he came full-tilt, ass-first, into the guy with the puck, sending him ass-over-tea-kettle into the opposition's bench.
![\"Siddown!\"](\"images/hipcheck.jpg\")
The Ref then tried to explain to the Latvian that he had to leave the game for breaking the rules.
\"Vaht For?!? He iz fine!\"
\"This is a Non-Checking League, nimrod.\"
\"Vaht Czech?!? Latvian, Azzole! I'm Latvian!\"
I love that guy.
MyCompany hit some sweet sales goals last week, in no small thanks to the application I developed that I call, \"G0ogle is our Bitch,\" plus there were some Board Members in town, so the muckety-mucks threw a party.
They can sometimes act pretty stuffy, yet still foot the bill for as many Black 'n Tans I can drink, so I am hesitant to think that my *ahem* \"social behavior\" is affecting my job security.
This still doesn't mean that VPGuy was impressed by my imitation of the shrieking surprise of Hot, Atlanta Girls peeking under the kilt, but a good round of Dynamitesque dancing will set you in almost anyone's good graces.
I'm even getting the hip-movement thing down, and similar to numerous other ideas I blatantly steal from Pork, I'll get some video of it up here someday.
If that doesn't get the ladies wanting me to \"rout them like peeg,\" nothing will.
Fuck, I'm sick, and this entry blows retarded Antelope.
I'm kicking off my Moon Boots and going to bed.
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.Merry New Year! I'm in a Kilt. Now shut up and kiss me.
| ATL, Day One | ATL, Day Two, Part One | Atlanta Illustrated's Salami Tsunami (Pork's Alter-Ego) |
Time to party and, being the smart New Year's Eve-ers that we were, we called a cab to take us to the Fox Theatre.
Traffic was thick, and while the girls clippity-clopped in their heels across Highland Avenue, me and Dusty gallivanted as only those in kilts can. We hurriedly climbed into the cab and Pork made a classic, first-time-in-a-kilt mistake.
He forgot to tuck when sitting down.
\"Jeezus, my balls just hit the seat of a cab... what diseases do you think I just caught?\"
Walking into the theatre, we were hard to miss, and while all the ladies were most certainly checking us out, some shitwad thought he was clever by doing the RiverDance bit for his buddies' entertainment.
We couldn't be distracted by Splitting his Skull though, for we had this waiting for us...
![\"Many](\"images/crowdofhotties.jpg\")
The red dress at the bottom is actually my date, who unceremoniously ditched me after witnessing my Napoleon-Dynamitesque moves on the dance floor. She apparently couldn't handle the pure Sexlishessness of me dancing in a kilt.
I learned that, when attending a party with a girl as hot as my date is, you gotta ward off the hordes of desperate dudes or one of 'em will attach himself leech-like to her for the rest of the night.
There were far, far too many incredible-looking women there though, for me to hold a grudge, and his nose remained unbroken. Plus, he was actually a nice guy, and didn't mind when we not only got his name wrong, but made fun of his friends name as well.
\"Nice to meetcha, Barry.\"
\"My name's not Barry.\"
\"So whaddya do, Barry?\"
\"I'm in Law School... and my name's not...\"
\"Gonna be a lawyer, eh Barry?\"
\"...yeah.\"
We saw RiverDanceGuy doing his thing again, and he cockily avoided eye-contact while we glared menacingly from across the room. Beer and Hot Women beckoned though, and his Skull would stay whole for now.
With such a splendid environment to be immersed in, I sought out copious amounts of alcohol and some *ahem* pleasurable company.
At first, I tried to kiss-rape my kilt-clad compadre. He's THAT sexy.
![\"why](\"images/kissrape.jpg\")
This was a mistake, not only because he kicked me in the tit for trying it, but because his whiskers would probably have chafed against mine (reason #48 why dudes should never kiss).
During a smoke break, RiverDanceGuy actually came over and gushed all over the both of us about how cool the kilts were and whatnot.
We theorized that he wasn't a stupid person, and when his friends told him, \"Dude, those guys are going to fucking KILL you,\" he probably listened.
Because we were.
While cruising through the crowds, I met many cool people, and actually had a fair number of women approach me about the kilt and the secret of what's underneath it.
One of these incredibly hot ladies actually struck up conversation with me too. I gotta admit, it was a real kick to get hit on by a hottie, instead of always doing all the work. She even asked me what my Midnight Plans were and did I have someone to kiss. The night was still young, so I told her that I didn't yet, but I'd look for her. She looked somewhat disappointed by this (or somewhat drunk, tough call), so I went ahead and laid one on 'er right there.
Then, I went for more beer, and to tell Dusty the magical powers of the Kilt were in full effect.
He was as excited by this news as I, and he'd even been experiencing some of it himself.
![\"Eat](\"images/eatme.jpg\")
To get to the men's bathroom, one had to \"walk the gauntlet\" through the line of women waiting for their respective pisser.
It was during one of these trips that I was grabbed by DrunkenMakeOut #2. At first, she just told me that she wanted to know what was under the kilt, but when her friends tried to pull her away and she drunkenly fought them off, she decided that she wanted to see for herself instead.
She was frighteningly hot and wearing tight leather pants, how could I NOT show her?
Even though I warned her, she still shrieked loudly after a quick peek. Then, she grabbed me and gave me a kiss that took the pleats outta the ol' kilt, IF you know what I mean.
I once again, wandered back to Dusty and his date, grinning like I may possibly pass out from sheer bliss.
Dusty's date bravely took the risk of having her camera melt from the immeasurable amount of Sexocity that we were both exuding, and caught the two Sexiest-SkullSplittenest-Beasts-of-the-Night in full flare.
![\"Sexiest](\"images/sexiestbitchesever.jpg\")
Atlanta Illustrated's Pictures of the Eve.
See if you can find us! (I just looked, and DrunkenMakeOutGirl #1 is in there)
Midnight was fast approaching, and I was finally drunk enough to make the attempt to pull my date away from MyNameIsntBarry. I found them on one of the dance floors, but I couldn't do it. He looked so happy, and she looked so... well, drunk, which undoubtedly made him happy.
I drank more beer and figured I'd make another pass at Pork, or at least his date, and try and get me some Midnight Lovin', when I saw a tall blonde up in the balcony with us. I grabbed two glasses of champagne and made my way over, hoping to get to know her well enough in the 53 seconds left of 2004 for a smooch.
She looked at me like I was a hunting tiger, moving in on the helpless gazelle. It probably didn't help that I was visibly licking my chops, but her friends HAD just ditched her moments ago. She explained that they were all married and were on their cellphones with their husbands.
I asked her if she'd care to \"Ring in the New Year with a quick smooch?\"
She eyed me skeptically, we watched the balloons drop and everyone screamed, then she leaned over and got me with a good one. DrunkenMakeOut #3 was very cool, because she wasn't even drunk, and I was. She bolted with her friends mere minutes after 2005 started though, and it was decided that the KiltBoys should make our way to the exits as well.
We were gathering up and waiting for the crowds to thin when I caught a good shot of my incredibly hot date and the Pimp that put the whole soiree at the Fox together.
![\"Hands](\"images/offa_mah_woman.jpg\")
I thanked him for putting together such a swanky time, then told him not to hit on my terribly drunk date, or I'd go all SkullSpitter on his ass.
Then, I finally got to make out with my date. DrunkenMakeOut #4 was great too, but it unfortunately happened while MyNameIsntBarry was still hanging around. I wonder if he'll still call her...
We got back to Casa del Tornado, ate fried snacks, and popped open the Asti Spumanti (Spoo). 27 beers and a wine glass of champagne altered my reality enough that I could see Dusty's lips moving, but the sound wasn't matching up with those movements. I muttered something about bad martial arts movies and joined my sleeping date on the Hide-a-bed.
I passed the fuck out, after Firmly and Awesomely ringing in 2005.
This is the four of us the next morning.
![\"Girls](\"images/pjs_smokin_hotties.jpg\")
I look like I'm still drunk and eyeballing Pork, or his date. Dusty looked like I felt, and the girls looked like they were going shopping somewhere trendy, where they only allow you in if you are wearing PJ's, a fur coat and heels.
QueasyWhore Update.
After 2 solid days of complete whoredom and laying claim to my luggage, the cat finally got up and moved. I couldn't tell if it was to eat or shit, but I was intensely curious as to what could drag her from her beloved luggage.
![\"Whos](\"images/queasywhore.jpg\")
She knew that she couldn't get on the plane with me so, after a tear-jerking-fur-covered goodbye, she went back to whoring herself out to her original Pimp.