\”Work\” and \”Fun\” are two different words for a reason.
MyCompany is moving our offices soon to our own beautiful building that's nestled against the foothills of the Rockies. There is much excitement in the air, and not just because I've already got a spot picked out in the parking lot for the hockey rink.
Things are still insanely busy though, which is why I haven't written much in here other than work talk, and why my brain is rattling around like my nuts do when I sit too close to the gas tank of my buddy's Harley.
For the most part, my fellow dwellers of CubeWorld put up with my antics rather agreeably. Some reluctantly join in and others, like CoWorkerBuddy, instigate a fair amount too. Some people patently insist on acting like grown-ups though, and regardless of how much fun we are clearly having, refuse to participate.
We're ALL busy, we've ALL got plenty of important shit to do, and not enough time to do it in, but somehow we've collectively forgotten how important it is to depart from the mundanities of our work and Battle to the Death with Light Sabers of DOOM.
This Battle tends to be short-lived though, as the Light Sabers of DOOM are actually longish cardboard tubes, and will eventually break apart at their seams from repeated hacking by fellow aggressors. Even though this means they then transform into a great pair nunchucks, they do far less damage and rarely cause Death.
Indeed, The Impending Move has produced many fine instruments of Fun and Destruction, including shiny, new, 7-foot tall Server Racks, wrapped in plastic and waiting patiently in the main aisle of CubeWorld.
Despite slight claustrophobia and a decided lack of air, I finally relented to CoWorkerBuddy's repeated double-dog dares, slit the plastic at the bottom of one of the racks, and climbed in. Because of the aforementioned conditions and despite as much fun as it was to be in there, I wasn't planning on staying long, and had decided I would Clark Kent for a second, and then WWF my way out in grand fashion.
![\"Look!](\"images/superjudd.jpg\")
Then we spotted PissedInCornFlakes coming down the hall... and she hadn't noticed me yet.
She'd been wound up tighter than a nun's cootchie all week, and had even gone so far as to deride us for our repeated \"tomfoolery.\"
Yes, she actually said that.
Which is why, when she turned the corner down CubeRow, she got a face full of this...
![\"Loosen](\"images/bubbleboy.jpg\")
I'd love to say this story has a happy ending, and that she loosened up and joined in our Reindeer Games instead cursing and muttering her way back to her office, but some people just need stress in their life or they can't be happy, I guess.
I did scare her pretty good though, but I bet she didn't really need those few extra years on the end of her life anyway and would've just spent 'em eating cat food and busying herself with dying alone.
Bah, back to the Salt Mines. I'll post this sucker later.
This week can't end soon enough.
Wish me luck, watch out for deer, and don't let your Light Sabers unfurl too early, 'cause I lied and they actually make shitty nunchucks.
They will fit in your locker though.
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.I arise from The Depths… to wreak havok on your unsuspecting populace.
I'll start off by saying that I'm completely averse to \"contests\" or anything resembling \"look I'm a celebrity, so you too can be popular with the cool kids by being mentioned in this here blog\" shit, but there are enough folks out there that read this, and enough of 'em are just Good People, flat out.
This is why I'll completely contradict myself, just for WarCry, and \"award\" a winner to the Name The Love Interest Contest that she suggested.
I don't know that I've ever linked to the \"winner's\" diary before, and she rarely comments, so I'm not sure how many of you have ever read her, but she's been on my favorites since Day One, literally, and she's been a good friend since not long after that.
I'll even be quaffing both our shares of Aussie beers with her and FemmeAustralis when I am there in April. A much good time will be had by all, of this there is no doubt, 'cause she's that fuckin' cool.
So, go read the lovely and talented OchWeidNit, and thank me profusely later.
I was half-kidding about a \"prize\" for this contest, but...
BatGirl, this if for YOU baby.
![\"Anus](\"images/feet.jpg\")
You're going to have to ask her about the meaning of her DLand pseudonym, because it's fuckin' hilarious, and only she tells the story properly.
Work is still horrendously busy, and the true bright spot to all of it is that, if everything works like we've planned, we're looking at around 10 million additional bucks a year.
Yeah, for us, that's a pretty big fucking deal, hence the pressure and the addition of Wiredly McFreakinoutboy in Judd's life.
The discovery of my wallet was enough of a sign to me that I decided I was destined to let off more steam at work, especially in these packed-with-tension times.
I know I normally tend to be quite reserved when in my element at CubeWorld, but last night called for true release... the destruction of something.
The office had emptied to the point where CoWorkerBuddy felt comfortable enough to crank up some music, and our customary freakish dance display was soon to be on in full force.
We were both still focused though, on getting our *geeky-code-bullshit* done, so subdued, personal, dance displays were all that was going on in our cubes.
Things were set and kicked off, it was now time to wait... and to dance.
For some reason or another, CoWorkerBuddy noticed that NewCodeGuy had not only received a less-than-appropriate welcome, but didn't even have a trash can in his cube, and was instead opting to place his trash in a neat, little, pile on his desk.
While CoWorkerBuddy ran off to scour CubeWorld for an empty cube from which to \"liberate\" a trash can, I got an idea.
It occurred to me, in an empty CubeWorld, why get only one wastebasket, when you could get them ALL?
When CoWorkerBuddy came back and festooned NewCodeGuy's cube with one meager office accoutrement, I had already retrieved 6 of the 7 neighboring cube's wastebaskets.
Since he IS technically management, I had to listen to his reasoning that putting them all in NewCodeGuy's cube would only confuse and fuck up housekeeping's work. Not wanting to do anything that would adversely effect Eduardo's job, I held back in my plan to stack everything on top of NewCodeGuy's monitor.
Content with my concession, CoWorkerBuddy went back to his cube and fired off the next round of IfYoureStillHereGetTheFuckOut tunes.
I was gathering up the wastebaskets when I heard this pounding out from his cube.
\"Break Stuff?\"
Yes, it was indeed time to \"break stuff.\"
But, I didn't want to do so haphazardly, nor did I actually want to \"break stuff,\" I just needed to feel like I was.
The beat caught me as I randomly placed the trash cans along the main row of CubeWorld, and by the time the rage and aggression of the music hit me, they were ready, waiting, and completely unprepared for...
JuddZilla.
Fortunately, CoWorkerBuddy was unable to hear over the music the anguished cries of the helpless denizens of \"Tokyo\" as I stomped and kicked my way through TrashCanMiniCity and screamed at the buildings I was rending asunder, \"I... AM... GawdZirra... And YOU... Are... JAPAN!\"
The wastebaskets were surprisingly empty, and very little trash scattered across the carpet, but a lone, empty, Yoplait, yogurt cup waited at the end of the carnage, for the coupe de grace.
My 100 million year-old, scaly, clawed, dinosaur-like, foot smashed down upon the Japanese Military's Missile Launching Unit, and their feeble attempt at defending their city was crushed with it.
![\"You](\"images/juddzilla.jpg\")
In lieu of DataAnalyst targets for the Nerf Dart Gun, the Massacre of CubeRow was everything that I needed.
The stress and tension of the week seemed to magically melt away with every hollow-sounding, plasticy, WHOOMPF of the trash cans as I booted them clear into the Pacific Ocean.
Thankfully, cleanup was a breeze, as my fellow cube-dwellers don't seem to produce much trash, and CoWorkerBuddy hardly noticed that DumbCodeGuy's patented Box o' Crackers was now all the way across the office in ProjectManagerGirl's office.
Paperwork for the Passport is complete, barring governmental catastrophe, and all subsequent official paperwork for my trip abroad is taken care of.
It's been an... interesting week, and it is now over.
So, here's to Tomorrow...
*raises bottle of beer*
*Clink*
While we never know what it may bring, may we always hope for the absolute Best, and have the faith in ourselves that we can handle the absolute Worst.
Wish me luck, and watch out for deer.
SHIT, I almost forgot to tell you that I am as horny like a fluttering wildebeest.
Wow, never has saying that brought so much fulfillment into my life...
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.Inanimate Objects DO SO Mate and Create Horrible Creatures.
I was hanging out in The Mom's kitchen last Sunday night, discussing the kinds of things that any normal mother and son would discuss, like work, life, love, and the DU hockey team's forechecking schemes, when LifePartner came in and asked me what was up. I excitedly babbled to her about meeting a girl, and flying around the frickin' globe to see her.
LifePartner's never been terribly romantic, and I expected some decidedly pragmatic advice concerning Internet Friends and how to avoid having my vital organs harvested with a tire iron.
Instead she asked, \"You got a Passport, right?\"
\"Um... I thought those were just for Spies and International Jewel Thieves. I've always gotten outta May-hee-ko with just my Birth Certificate.\"
\"Yeah... NO. Doofus. It takes about 6 weeks. So, get one. NOW. When's your trip?\"
*counting on fingers* \"sinzzina... azonna... FUCKSTICKS. 6 weeks.\"
I found out that you can get a Passport on \"expedite\" status though, for extra money of course. Not a huge deal as I was at least formulating a plan, and that pleased me. Not to say I didn't feel dumb, but I was still safe from my own stupidity at the moment.
Monday, we took out NewCodeGuy for his first day at MyCompany, and after lunch my wallet magically disappeared. I couldn't find it at home that night, in my cube the next day, nor in my truck the following night.
I was reunited with some long, lost items though, and was overjoyed that my Fly-Fishing gloves and a box of Tic-Tacs had partied down with a leaky bottle of Transmission Fluid on the floor of my truck.
The Gloves can be washed, I think, but the Tic-Tacs chrystallized into some Giant Mutant TAC that had gotten so used to being a passenger in my truck that it physically threatened me when I tried to remove it. I'm a big enough pussy that I AM afraid of any Sugary-Minty-Goodness when it growls at me, and I'm alright with that.
This threw my \"plan\" off a bit too.
No Birth Certificate (in my wallet... I know, I KNOW) and No Driver's License means No Passport. No Birth Certificate also means No Driver's License. Getting a Birth Certificate means an interminably long wait from TinyPodunkTown's Clerk's Office, even though the Clerk regaled me with stories of how she used to hold Baby JuddHole during basketball games.
I replied, \"Oh yeah? You didn't DROP me, didja? 'Cause I'm feeling particularly dumb lately.\"
She didn't find this amusing, and the prospects for my Birth Certificate getting put on \"expedite\" status dropped significantly.
I started to wonder, \"Is this a SIGN?!? Am I not meant to go to Australia? Am I as big of a gotard as I feel like right now?!? Are the 5 Mountain Dews I drank today the reason that my hands are shaking so violently? What the hell IS one-hour martenizing? Can you test a AAA battery the same way as a 9-volt, by licking it?\"
My thoughts settled down when I realized that I could get my shit together in time, and perhaps my new idol, Eduardo, would be able to shake his staff down and see if any of them \"found\" my wallet somewhere in the building or parking lot.
Work then got really busy.
Work is almost always busy, and busy is good, but when Stressy McTensington moves into my life and starts wigging out in CubeWorld, there is usually problems. I was causing errors all over the place, and some my fellow dwellers of CubeWorld were growing increasingly agitated that we were all having to stay late until our project was launched, and launched without any JuddFuckUps, as they were now being referred to.
I decided to put a stop to the \"wigging,\" and release some tension that was filling the air. I reached for the Nerf Dart Gun, ready to spread some decisive Foam Justice, quietly leaned over the wall of my cube, and pegged DataAnalystGuy directly in the back of the head.
As he shrieked in surprise and annoyance, I shrieked loudly as well. Not because of the incredible 20-foot shot I had just made, but because my wallet was subversively hanging in the loading mechanism of the gun. It had apparently decided to copulate with my incredibly sexy Nerf Gun in order to produce a Killer Army of LeatherClad, Plastic-Armored, Nerf Punishers with names like CitiBank and Chase.
There was a surprising amount of rejoicing from CubeWorld, but I only found out later that this was because my co-workers were quickly becoming concerned for my sanity, as well as their own safety, but everybody made it home alive last night.
Today we're actually waiting, as I write this, while our Superiors meet and decide how late we're going to stay tonight, and my co-workers have figured out that, if they don't give my darts back, they won't get shot anymore. A few of them are also theorizing that by destroying the darts, they probably won't get shot ever again.
They are, of course, very mistaken.
It's going to be a long night.
Important Thought
It should be noted that attempting to \"blast\" a piece of chewing gum off of the lip of the urinal, no matter how good your aim, will almost always result in excessive splatter, as well as leaving the goddam gum in place, slightly wet, but ever-clinging.
It should also be noted that any response to the question of what happened would probably be more appropriate than, \"I just pissed on myself.\"
Don't ask me how I know this, just note it.
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.Oogey Woogey Lovey Dovey Num Nums
Today marks the day of that holiday that I've always fuckin' hated, a holiday that many of us have always fuckin' hated, a holiday that absolutely deserves to be FUCKIN' HATED.
It does, and we ALL have our reasons.
However, it technically IS a holiday for lovers and... I am in love.
So, I'm going to tell you a bit about that.
Everybody walks around with their own preferences, needs, and wants concerning just about anything. Depending on what you're looking for, be it a new car, pair of shoes, or Love, you have certain things that you are looking for that you are unwilling to compromise on.
This unconscious \"list\" is of course, joined by another list of stuff that you will grudgingly compromise but can live without, and yet another list of stuff that you would compromise on and aren't \"deal-breakers\" but would certainly love to have.
For almost all of this stuff, we may spend our entire lives compiling and refining these lists, depending on our \"life\" priorities.
For me, the shoes were first, for they were a more practical choice.
Okay, they were a fuck of a lot easier than women, who's gonna argue that one.
I tried all manner of shoes, even dropping $50 for the expensive ones, before I found the $14.99 CheapShit brand boots that went with everything (Carhartt's and um... Carhartt's) and were comfortable (don't yelp in pain/relief at the end of the day).
Naturally, the day those boots wore out, roughly 5 months after purchasing them, I went back to CheapoShitMart to get another pair.
Gone. CheapAssWhiteTrashMart is as fickle as a pubescent teen, and the boots they now had were the same, but much more ghetto.
I'd figured out what I wanted though, I just couldn't find it there anymore.
As for a vehicle, I owned a complete rolling-piece-of-shit for so long that it wasn't hard to upgrade there, but I still knew exactly what I wanted. Again, much easier than even thinking about chicks, and based on my internal list that I'd spent my whole driving life putting together. I swapped out GimongousPartsFallingOffShitMobile for StripedRedNeckFootballHelmet, and have never had a complaint.
Love...
Love was naturally trickier because it wasn't something I could save up my money for (except for that ONE weekend with that cow, a cinder block, and that full-body rubber suit... I call that one: Lesson Learned).
I still had my lists, but a lot of that stuff wasn't something that you could know without taking the time to really get to know someone and, unfortunately, rolling around naked with them, for as fun as it was, wasn't covering it.
List Number One got covered though, with The Girl, and List Number Two did pretty good too. But neither of us was making it to the end of our lists, and the day we figured that out was pretty much it.
MarriedGirl did pretty good on both lists, but there was still a glaring issue on List Number One that neither of us could get over.
She wanted to stay married, and I couldn't blame her. Again, a mutual decision was made, and that was it.
FarAwayGirl, who needs a more suitable moniker (thanks again, Syn_ack, for pointing shit out to me, and for the nickname, though WCG may have won a foot-painting with: AussieBabe), has been around for awhile, months and months even. Though we'd always been friends, somewhere hidden in the depths of my brain, I was checking stuff off my lists. She was too, though we'd never admitted it to each other until fairly recently.
Before I knew it, I was pretty much done with all the lists, she'd covered all of 'em, and Brain finally told Heart what was up. They got together with Gut, painstakingly went through all of it over a couple of weeks, and before you could say HolyImpulsivePlaneTicketPurchaseBatman, I was planning a trip to pretty much the furthest distance from where I'm at.
It started with the idea that, Life is too short not to say \"Fuck it,\" once in a while, and do something based completely on your Heart.
It's since evolved into the idea that, I've met the most amazing person of my life, and InsanelyLuckyMe, she doesn't find me completely retarded. Not even when I do an atrocious Aussie accent, write interminably depressing ambiguous emails, or tell her all the stupid shit that goes on in my head/pants.
I even opened up the trenchcoat of my mind, and flashed her obscenely, in an effort to \"scare her off with a wiggle,\" as I've done so many times before.
She took a good, long, look and when I ChesterTheMolesterly cackled and tried run away, she tackled me to the ground. That shit wasn't going to work this time. SHE wouldn't let ME run away from something that we both knew was right.
So, I'm going to Australia in April.
Impulsive? Maybe, but what would you do if you found the boots you've wanted your whole life?
Nothing could keep me from her.
Hell, we even speak the same language, even if I do so very poorly.
Didn't know I was so multilingual did you?
Hell, I speak Canadian and British too.
Awright, I'm done with the schmoopieness... for now.
Thanks for all the ego-stroking too, you guys are the fuckin' best.
And by \"guys,\" I mean, \"chicks,\" because the \"guys\" that comment are seriously a bunch of freaks.
Cole, you play it cool, but I'm pretty sure you'd GrecoRoman me, Greek-style, faster than you can say \"FuckinCanucksSuck,\" three times. Surly Feyg.
Pimp wants me too, but he's got the wife and kids 'n shit, so I think I'm safe. Married Feyg.
Bingo bitches, but he secretly loves me. 405-entry writin' Feyg.
Andy, Wombat, and The Kud never really express any overt sexual feelings... but I'm pretty sure that's only because I've never bought 'em a beer.
I'm watchin' out for that.
The \"chicks,\" are a vast bunch, so go read some of these pure balls of sweetitude, and give them all sorts of Love, sans fluids.
I know, I know I left a bunch off. Sorry.
You know Judd loves you though, right?
C'mon baby, don' be that way...
I'll getcha next time I'm all schmoopie. Which may be often, we'll see.
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.Happy Drunken 101st…
Dusty has advised me that, when I write things whilst insanely drunk, be it an email or an entry, I should sit on it until morning and re-evaluate. I did so, which is why I'm posting this today.
In fact, I think I did an admirable job for being as drunk as I was, and I did no editing.
I s'pose it doesn't hurt that I've already had a beers few today though...
Much like the belief that the New Millenium doesn't truly start until the year after, I have waited to celebrate 100 entries until this one, the 101st. This isn't at all because I forgot my diary was turning 100 and wrote about poop instead, if that's what you're thinking. Seriously, reading syn_ack's comment wasn't the first time I'd ever thought about the fact that I've now got 100 fucking entries.
Honest.
Swear.
*ahem*
In celebration of this momentous event, I thought I'd do a couple things.
First, apparently there are enough people doing so these days that I thought I'd read the whole thing myself. Sure, I'd done it before, but was usually drunk and prone to outrageous laughter followed by unstoppable tears, and I'd never actually made it through the whole thing. I wanted to do this to make sure I've got a fairly firm handle on who exactly The JuddHole comes across as.
I'm going to forego my thoughts on what a complete jackass I am and/or incredibly sexy beast I tend to be, and deliver the second thing.
I'm going to share with you shit that you probably wouldn't know if you only know me through this diary.
Relax, I'm not going to do \"101 things you've always wanted to know about me\" or any of that shit.
I'm just going to talk, and you're going to listen.
Because I fucking SAID SO, that's why. Now shaddap and siddown.
First off, I am drunk right now, and I tend to write a good majority of my entries after several beers.
I drink too much. Am I going to stop, or even slow down? Not at the moment, so piss off.
I cry during the \"Jen-Ays Grave\" scene during Forrest Gump.
Every. Fucking. Time.
I believe my mother to be the most incredible human being that's ever graced this planet, and I count myself as phenomenonally lucky that I was born to her and have gotten to know her my whole life.
I fart and blame it on the nearest explicable entity.
I will sit and watch any one of my 5 fishtanks for hours like a drooling moron.
There are times that I WILL actually drool on myself while staring at my fish. I will then quickly wipe it off, look around guiltily, and say, \"Jeez, I hope nobody saw that.\"
Whenever I am near a child or an animal, I instantly become stupider. It is probably for this reason that most tend to love me instantly.
I piss on the trellis in my backyard in front of my neighbors. There are times that I'll even wave at 'em. In fact, I just did. \"Hi Jim!\"
I do this under the pretenses of \"water conservation,\" but the truth is, I just love pissing outside, and will always do so given the opportunity, no matter the audience.
I was scared and self-conscious as an adolescent, was terrified of anyone who didn't like me, and was wary of anyone who did.
I've fallen in love 3 times in my life. First was The Girl, and that didn't work out, though I still care about her and consider her a friend. Next, was MarriedGirl, and that didn't work out, though I still care for her and consider her a friend. Now... is new, and someone that I've known for a while, though have never met in person.
I am flying half-way around the World to meet her, for the first time in person, in April.
I am equally excited and terrified about this. It all feels incredibly right and I give not a fuck what anyone thinks about it.
I blow my nose in the shower. But I always make sure all of it makes it down the drain.
I've been in 3 fistfights in my life, have 'won' all of them, and only 'cheated' once by kicking the guy in the balls and then punching him repeatedly while he clutched his crotch in agony.
I consider a \"fistfight\" one in which both parties are allowed to throw punches. If you count me getting hit in the face without fighting back, my record goes from 3-0, to 3-5, so I tend not to mention those.
I own more shoes than 90% of the chicks I know. Over half of them are black, steel-toed, boots.
I have a sewing machine and love making stuff on it. I love baking too.
I don't know what any of this means, although I'm pretty sure I'm not gay.
I just checked, and I'm not gay.
I absolutely love \"fan mail,\" though at least half of it freaks me out a little, particularly unsolicited personal information and/or pictures (even if some of you ARE pretty hot).
I am a dreamer and an incurable romantic, which sometimes leads me into trouble.
I am also analytical and pragmatic, which makes me smack myself in the head for being too much of a fucking dreamer.
I am competitive to a fault. During any head-to-head competition, I will do everything I can to kick the ever-lovin shit outta you, but I will never cheat. If I win, I am completely humble, but if I lose I will do so graciously, though inside I will curse your undeserved luck. If I sense that winning would mean more to you than it would to me, I will relent, but I will subtly remind you later that I could've beaten you had I really wanted.
I am an artist, and am terribly passionate about art.
When low on laundry, I will take off a pair of boxer briefs and sniff them, to see if they can handle another day of being subjected to my nasty junk.
I sniff every article of clothing before I put it on as well as anything I am preparing to eat, and I rarely confuse the two.
Regardless of what any of the above actually smell like, I always continue on with my initial intentions by either wearing them or eating them.
I have an order when I put on clothing or hockey equipment, and I will wander the house with one boot in my hand while searching for the other, because I refuse to put the \"wrong\" one on first.
I own 100+ hats, and am almost always wearing one. I usually grab whatever is nearest and put it on my head. This means at any given point, I may be wearing a Cowboy Hat, a Sombrero, a Santa Hat, an Army BDU Hat, or a simple ballcap. Right now, I'm wearing my \"Preston* Derby\" hat that I got from a buddy who was actually there.
*Preston, Idaho, home of Napoleon Dynamite. I kick so much ass in this hat.
I've been drinking this entire night, including while I've been writing this, am very drunk, and typing is a chor that is quickly pissing me off.
I love hugs, am a great hugger, and will give them freely even when sober.
Now c'mere, and give Judd some love.
I will usually grab your ass at the end of said hugs, regardless of who you are.
This makes some people understandably uncomfortable, and they tend to be wary of me wanting to hug them ever again.
This list of Formerly Hugged and AssGrabbed includes my step-sister, her husband, my boss, assorted co-workers, my realtor, my neighbor, and a couple of good friends and their girlfriends/wives.
Everything that I am in this diary is exactly like I am in real life, only slightly more puerile and immature.
That's not true, I am EXACTLY like this in real life, and you better fuckin' believe it.
Despite this, I don't want people I know reading this for the simple fact that I don't want them thinking they know, or don't know, something about me simply because they read it in here. I fuckin' hate that shit.
I believe that stories worth telling happen to all of us, all the time, and we need to share them more often.
This entry was fun for me to write, but I know that it is a complete piece of shit for reading value. I don't care, nor have I ever.
Since I have been working my ass off to sell this fucking great house for so long, I've been remiss in simply enjoying it while I'm here, and I spent the first part of this evening in my basement, shooting pool with a good friend of mine.
He's one of the few that know I have this diary, and he supports my habit without ever reading it or asking for the link.
Regardless of this, he refuses to let me post a picture of him, though I know all the chicks that read this would go nuts over him and have told him as such, mostly because I've seen him in the shower after a hockey game and know that nothing will clear a shower spot quicker than, \"Hey Buddy... nice penis.\"
I told him how much fun it is to have all sorts of chicks throw their panties at me whenever I post pics, so he snapped shots of me while shooting pool, despite my protests.
I was kicking his ass, so I figured he was trying to distract my deep thought.
![\"think](\"images/pool_thinking.jpg\")
I'm either trying to explain something to him about a flash going off while attempting to sink the 8-ball, or I've just taken a hit off my beer bottle/bong unit.
![\"lissen](\"images/pool_toking.jpg\")
And by \"Protests,\" I mean threatening him menacingly with my pool cue turned Ninja Sword, and screaming, \"Round-eye DOG! I will slice that camera from your foolish Gaijin fingers!\"
![\"I](\"images/pool_ninja.jpg\")
I guess the last thing on my List of Things Revealed should be that I'm a complete whore for pictures and feedback on them.
But, surely you knew that one.
Now, tell me how hot I am. My fragile ego can never get enough o' that shit.