Summer is almost overah... Thank God!

Well, I don't know about you - but this summer royally sucked wind. No brahsome foreign vacations with hot chicks with accents, no tense fencing at Summer Nationals, no Summer of George with 100% less employment and 100% more drinking, no giant fraternity conferences and the attending parties after dark. Just work, sleep, more work, and lots of "holy crap for crap" I need to hit the gym moments. Which also explains why you haven't seen a whole lot of very cool blog posts from me. Hell, here is a recap of the last six summers.





Summer 2002 - Ibiza, Spain


Summer 2003 - Dallas, TX


Summer 2004 - Minneapolis, MN


Summer 2005 - Myvatn, Iceland


Summer 2005 - New Orleans, LA


Summer 2006 - Atlanta, GA


Summer 2007 - Deadspin at Turner Field - Atlanta, GA


This summer (not me pictured, but representative)


Not to say the summer has been uneventful - Atlanta nightlife and party scene always offers something - but nothing too insane this time around. The biggest news this month for me is the discovery of a hip scene called Bricktown in Oklahoma City. Exciting! It even features a bar and grill owned by Toby Keith! But other than that, pretty much routine.

This is also not to say that I don't appreciate being a critical member of my team at work who finds it difficult to take even a single day of uninterrupted vacation. I get it, it is part of the life - a life I want to enjoy (the money helps too). And while I lived it up during the Summer of George (see link and above), the piper came calling that next winter and spring.

Still, I miss the days of half day Fridays where I could lay out by the pool at 2pm, or had the leisure time to work out three times a day during the week. These days, organization, self discipline, sacrifice, and the Blackberry rule the day. At least I am getting paid for it.

Better still, fall brings SEC football and the glory of the NFL, free booze parties, and patio events with women in sexy sundresses and weather that doesn't leave me dripping after five minutes. Autumn rules!

You Know What, I Think I Will Just Be A Jerk

One of my friends pointed out last fall that I was a complete jerk, especially to women. Just to see what would happen, I decided to not be a dick on a first date. I opened doors, I paid for stuff, I was generally nice and sweet, and I noticed and pointed out how pretty my date was that night. We went to nice restaurants in nice neighborhoods, and I was a complete gentleman.

Four first dates, four dead ends.

I think I will go back to being a jackass. Bees like honey, women like vinegar.

Insane Things Girls Have Said To Me In The Club

Check out the above video. Holy crap, it's funny 'cause its true. It reminds me of all the times I have been in the bar or club and have been unlucky enough to have reasonable people around me as a buffer. I have heard some pretty outlandish things over the years.

• Wow, you look a lot like Usher. I know, I've met him for realz. You are cute. [Then she walks away]
• You seem really nice. I bet you have great parents.
• Why were you talking to that other girl? I'm going to kill you.
• I saw you kissing that little red-headed slut. She wasn't even hot. You suck.
• Can you flag down the bartender and get me three vodka-Red bulls, and two gin and tonics? You're paying for them, right?
• What the fuck! You should pay for the pleasure of my company!
• Wow, you look like Forrest Whittaker!
• You ARE Forrest Whittaker! Don't lie to me! I know how you Hollywood types are.
• I've got a boyfriend, but you are invited to my pool party tomorrow night...
• [Strange woman randomly french kisses me when she walks through the barroom door] We shouldn't do this, my husband is coming in right now.
• This town is so racial. Look, that line across the street is nothing but black people, and this one is nothing but white people. [Never mind I am standing behind the white girl talking.]
• Can I touch your hair?
• Can I touch your [bald] head?
• Why won't you buy me a drink?
• Why aren't you smiling?
• You don't look happy.
• You're black, what are you doing here? [The girl speaking to me was an African-Puerto Rican mix]
• Wow, I'm blacker than you are! [Said by a native born Dutch girl]
• You are awesome, you would be perfect for a girl I know in my office. She is a bit overweight and has two kids, are you cool with that?
• You had better buy us some shots, or we won't leave you alone with our friend.

Sometimes, it makes my head spin. Most times, the craziness sends me running to the bottle. And people wonder why I drink so hard when I am out.

Genie In A Bottle

How much do I have to drink before she comes out?

Until one of my buddies offered me a ticket to the Falcons preseason game, I was considering crawling inside a bottle for the whole weekend. It's been a hot and rough summer - and nothing cures summer blues like being blitzed in the Hotlanta heat. If I had more of an addictive personality and enough time in a given week, I could be a full fledged alcoholic. Ah, to dream...

In any case - my friends and I ended up heading to Atlanta Brewing Company before the game, drank at the Georgia Dome, then at a friend's suite at Dragon*Con, and finally ended up at Twisted Taco where I ran into a friend and her cute and adorable girlfriend... and their respective boyfriends. I always liked CAAGirl, and I think my hands may have expressed my affection more than I intentioned. Thankfully, the boyfriend didn't notice or didn't mind. Who is to say these days.

Twisted Taco is interesting like that. I have met a huge number of girls there, and made out with not a few of them... and a good amount of them were attached in some way. Hell, I remember one Labor Day weekend I was there with a big group of folks and this hot blonde in her thirties with cute fake boobs comes up to me, pulls me close, shoves her tongue down my throat - and then stops, saying, "I shouldn't do this, my boyfriend is right behind you." I turn around, and there he is. One look at him told me my nose was going to be just fine. In that case, I pull her back and start kissing her again, passionately, until the boyfriend eventually protests weakly. Of course, the ensuing discussion amongst my friend is the over/under on how many minutes it will take me to go after her again (7, by the way). I didn't get her home with me, but man did I try.

Over the last few years, I've noticed a lot of women who act the same way. I could understand if they are pornstars or swingers or someone who would never promise monogamy or fidelity - but for the rest, playing this game of physical baseball in the bar/club scene is just ridiculous. Especially since someone with enough game can easily get the girl to commit an error and earn an in-field home run and cheat for real. It's been awhile, but I have made that hit plenty of times in the past. Of course, back then I travelled a lot more and had more opportunities; plus I was less willing to listen to words from a girl's mouth, opening me to reading how she acted.

Now, I feel this odd urge to "settle down," and find a "nice" girl. Instead, I find that many of the guys who have settled are dealing with way more bullshit than I could ever stand. If that doesn't make you want to drink, nothing will.

Am I Crazy, Or Does This Look Kinda Hot?

I could be nuts, I may fence too much, but I gotta admit - I think this is one of the hottest photos I have seen of Lindsay Lohan.

I really don't have anything to follow it up with, except that this weekend I let a girl bite my finger until the bone crunched. I am not sure what that says about her, or me.

Courtesy of WWTDD.

Kim Kardashian: Mom Must Be So Proud

One happy screwed-up family

There is a not lot going on today, and given the choice between discussing Newt Gingrich's para-run for the White House and Kim Kardashian's latest attempt to kill by STD, the choice was easy.

Mom must be feeling great right after Mother's Day. The sex tape was one thing, and now she gets to hear that her daughter gets set up with boys by Matt Leinart and Paris Hilton. Given the reason for her late husband Robert's fame, I can only imagine the conversation over New Orlean's RB Reggie Bush.

Kim: He is so fucking sexy, and rich. More people notice me when I am with him!
Mom: Does he have a temper honey? Does he wear Bruno Maglis?
Kim: Why the fuck would you ask that? I mean, he hate fucks me if he sees me grabbing another guy's ass - but that's feels AWESOME!
Mom: Well, he doesn't get really jealous, does he? Robert would turn in his grave if he thought you would get in the same mess as Nicole.
Kim: What the hell are you talking about? Reggie is not fucking OJ Simpson! He loves me!
Mom: Come on Kim... you don't exactly come off as the pinnacle of fidelity. And I am not spotting you for your Valtrex refill if you keep this up!
Kim: Penna of what? Did you call me a fucking penis? Fuck you mom, I don't need your charity. My dealer said to just pour coke on the sores, it will do the same thing.
Mom: Yes, thank you for your Mother's Day gift. One less daughter.

I'm not saying Reggie Bush will marry Kim Kardashian and then kill her... but I'd understand.