Feb. 6, 2010

6 Feb

12:30 pm

8 piece chicken nuggets

1 can of Diet Pepsi

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I ate chicken nuggets and watched “The Blind Side.” What I didn’t mention was that those nuggets were in the shape of DINOSAURS! The kings of the jurassic era. Terrible lizards in Latin. All around ass kickers. I can’t stress how bad ass it is to eat food in the shape of dinosaurs. If broccoli looked like a pteradactyl, I’d devour it every day. As kids, we hated eating vitamins. And yet, we loved Flintstones vitamins. Why? Because of the shapes, and one of them was Dino, the Flintstones’ pet brontosaurus. He was grape and that’s the best flavor. Fuck orange.

The only time I wasn’t enamored with dinosaurs was when Transformers unveiled the Dinobots. You know how the giant robots transformed into vehicles to remain inconspicuous except when fighting each other? HOW IS A 30-FOOT ROBOT DINOSAUR INCONSPICUOUS?! And they made them all idiots too. Watching them in the cartoons was only slightly less aggravating then watching the Kardashians. And yet, if they appear in Michael Bay’s next “Transformers” movie, I wouldn’t bat an eye, because he turns out shitty movies.

Anyway, I ate dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, so of course I’m going to play with my food. And since I watched “The Blind Side,” I might as well re-create some memorable scenes with said nuggets. This will make a lot more sense if you’ve actually seen the movie.

Lawrence Taylor (stegasaurus): I’m going to break your leg!

Joe Theisman (tyrannosaurus): OWWWWWW!!!!!!

Michael Oher (stegasaurus): This is the first time I’ve had this.

Sandra Bullock (tyrannosaurus): What? A bedroom?

Michael Oher: No, a bed.

Sandra Bullock (tyrannosaurus): I’m happy. Do you think we should adopt Michael?

Husband (stegasaurus): I thought we were going to have sex.

Sandra Bullock: What did I say when I married you? I can multi-task. So I can give you a blowjob and adopt a large black teenager at the same time.

Excessive blocking!

Sandra Bullock (tyrannosaurus): That Nick Saban sure is handsome.

Husband (stegasaurus): Uh honey, I’m standing right here.


Ed Orgeron (stegasaurus): If you commit to Ole Miss, I can promise that’ll I’ll get fired in a year, join forces with that douchebag Lane Kiffin at Tennessee, then screw the entire state over by sneaking off to USC after less than a year. I will try to rape and pillage the Volunteers as much as possible by stealing as many recruits and coaches from them as possible via clandestine phone calls before I set focus on bringing a 13-year-old quarterback to USC.

Jonathan Lipnicki (the half-eaten stegasaurus): But what can you do for me?

Ed Orgeron: Well, when I’m at Tennessee, we will send young attractive girls called VOL girls to your school, and you can have your ways with them.

Jonathan Lipnicki: Awesome!

Michael Oher (tyrannousaurus): Mickey’s! Fuck Mickeys! Colt! 45! Double Malt!

(Inhales from a canister of nitrous oxide, proceeds to destroy drug den, rape Isabella Rossellini as Kyle Machlachlin watches from a closet.)

1:30 pm

Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf

1 small mocha latte

6:30 pm


1 can of Diet Pepsi

8:30 pm

Little Bar

1 pint of Great White Ale

My new favorite beer.


4 cups of beer

1 cup of jungle juice

2 slices of pizza

3 pieces of blondues

That’s right, I went to a kegger. Considering that I also drank a cup of jungle juice and you’d thought that I crashed a TKE party. That’d be a fine guess, but you’d be wrong. This party featured a bunch of young, upwardly mobile professionals (ie, yuppies) who threw a kegger for ironic reasons. Think the Gossip Girl characters in 10 years meets one of those straight to DVD “Amerian Pie” sequel, and get annoyed at that concept.

This brings me to my advice for my younger readers: drink as much as you can from a keg while you can. Eventually, you’ll outgrow that keg, start going to bars with $10 cocktails, then dinner parties with canapes. And that day will suck. As you get older, it will be harder to to find time and meet friends who’ll hoist you upside-down by the ankles as your head gets injected with beer. Once you get married, your wife will toss your double beer funnel to find room for Crate and Barrel dishes, and you will slowly build up a resentment toward her. So savor your keg-party days. Get hammered, be like Pauly D and “smoosh” an equally drunk co-ed. Press your genitals against hers and hope that the 3% chance of penetration takes place, even though both of you still have your jeans on and are too drunk to take them off. Then tell your buddies the next morning that you totally hit that and give yourself high fives. You’ll eventually think back to those moments after the 800th morning of waking up next to the same woman that is your wife. Once you’re an adult, beer becomes less a conduit for drunken hijinks and more a reason to escape your soul-crushing job and asshole boss. Yes, keg stands will probably kill a lot of brain cells quickly. But when you eventually use those brain cells to juggle mortgage payments while trying to stash enough for junior’s college tuition that skyrockets faster than you can save, you will get depressed. Life is short, embrace the keg and use it to fuel your 64-team beer pong tournament. C’est la vie!

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