Monthly Archives: October 2012

The Return to Manhood

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We are all aware of this scene:  a shirtless man wearing jeans and a tool belt takes a break from sanding the deck, walks up to his girl and grabs her around the waist and forcefully pulls her to his chest, causing her to gasp in startled rapture.

Where is that guy?  What in the hell happened?  When did men stop being men?

When I imagine what goes on inside my grandparents’ heads while they are playing dominoes and considering the backbone of today’s youth, it kills me a little each day.

And it’s all our fault.  Tag is no longer allowed to be played on school playgrounds.  Tag!  You know, that deadly game where you touch someone on the arm and run away?  My generation played mailbox baseball and smear the queer, and now you can’t even play a game in which you touch someone lightly for fear that some doofus might trip while running and skin a knee causing some litigious mom to sue the school district.

It’s time to remember who we once were, and by the way, when I speak of manly things, I will not acknowledge the sloths who define a man as someone who sits on his couch scarfing KFC from the bucket and using his wife-beater as a napkin.  We don’t want to hear you boasting about the girth of your beer belly and the lengths of your turds or watch you bite off your toenails and chew on them for an hour.  I don’t think so, Jabba!  You are a gluttonous filthy hog and should be choked out with a bike chain.

Here’s the dirty truth:  the cosmic order does not need you anymore.  If that hurts your feelings then I’m not surprised, because real men don’t display their feelings.  We need to stop making that guy who parades his laziness and ineptitude around like they’re badges of honor.

Despite any trepidation and fear we might experience from our wives/girlfriends/whatever, every man worth his weight in balls must band together in a Braveheart-like, raise-our-bare-asses-to-the-English stand against the rise of this slovenly generation of creampuffs that threatens not only our freedom, but the staunch machismo of our very existence.

With that said, here are the top 10 characteristics that will help you reclaim your manhood and get society back on track.

1.  Stop counting calories.  You want to be healthy and in shape, go for it, but stop ordering your salad with the dressing on the side and checking the backs of boxes for a calorie count and then talking about it for an hour.  And for the love of all things manly, stop drinking protein shakes.  You’re one step away from wearing spandex bike shorts and a calorie counter around your bicep, and if you’re wearing those things you can stop being my friend right now.

2.  Drink top-shelf liquor.  Straight.  If you drink cocktails with a mixer, you’re a pussy!  Real men drink strong, quality booze straight from a glass with no mixer.  Don’t believe me?  Two names:  Earnest Hemmingway and James Bond.  BLAM!

3.  Kill the Metro inside of you.  You want a tan, take your shirt off, go outside and Paul Bunyan a tree.  I don’t care what your girlfriend tells you to do.  Stop going to tanning booths and getting highlights in your hair and piercings in your nose and ears and shaving your chest, etc, etc, etc.  Your body shower gel and hair spiking glue are seriously retarding the male chromosome.

4.  Build and repair things around the house.  Jump all over this super manly action.  This one characteristic alone could save your life.  Go to Home Depot.  A lot.  Wear a tool belt, own power tools and a workbench with drawers filled with nuts and bolts and greasy wrenches.  When in doubt, duck tape and WD-40 everything. It’s a known fact that women are 78.39% more likely to jump in bed with a man who fixes things around the house.

5.  Learn the art of seduction.  Stop dumping a bunch of drinks into a girl so you can strip her pants off while she’s half-conscious.  Master the ways of charm and decorum.  Pick her up, take her to dinner, open the door for her without mulling it over.  Learn how to sit close to her on the couch and unhook her bra with one hand.  The way you’ve been doing it all these years leaves her staring dejectedly at the ceiling with regret after you’re done with your grunt-fest.  The real man leaves her daydreaming out the window for a week, distracted by your awesomeness.

6.  Get into some trouble.  I don’t mean buy a glock and rob a liquor store, but stop Tweeting and Facebooking “Love you, Schnookie Pie.”  Whatever happened to boys will be boys?  Get rip-roarin’ drunk and play some poker, smoke some cigars and allow spontaneous wrestling matches to break out in your living room.  Bleed and sweat, for Christ’s sake!

7.  Dress like a man.  An occasional suit is acceptable, but under normal circumstances, this means jeans and a t-shirt.  Period.  I’m talking a plain t-shirt or one with something sports-related printed on it.  No one wants to see you dressed in your douchebag Affliction t-shirt with glittery skulls and dragons, nor your pointy dress shoes and fashion jeans with the swirly embroidery on the back pockets.  You’re a TOOL!

8.  Go camping.  A real man needs the outdoors once in awhile to restore his carnal instinct and remind him of where he came from.  Activities that will help restore your memory are:  chopping wood, building a fire, pitching a tent (in more ways than one), peeing outdoors, baiting a hook and considering the stars and your place in the universe.

9.  Take a stand.  Nothing says pussy like a passive, indecisive man who asks permission and apologizes for everything.  If you want to be a man again, take a stand and believe in something, and when someone stands in your way, punch them the fuck out with some force.  Being decisive and wrong is infinitely better than flapping cowardly in the wind.  That’s how this country was built.  Don’t shame our ancestors by trying to make a decision while dancing in place like you’re about to pee your panties.

10.  Be a hero.  Speak up against evil, stop on-coming traffic, use your coat to protect a lady’s hair against the rain.  In short, have some balls to put others’ comfort and safety before your own.  It’s no secret that the hero gets the woman in the end.

Honorable mentions:  Listen to classic rock, quote manly movies, be great at barbecuing, have a porn stash, make fun of your friends, have your handshake mean something, drive trucks, get dirty, play sports, sweat, grow some facial hair (not just a mustache though; that makes you look like a highway patrolman turned 70′s porn star).

Cheers, until next time.

The RB

Dear Honey, You’re Memory Sucks!

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Welcome to Mega-Suck Mondays, Volume 2:  Apparently, My Memory Sucks!

This was on my bathroom mirror when I woke up this morning:

In case you can’t quite read that one part, it says “you have a beautiful mind but it has a piece of shit memory card.” Nice.  I suppressed my irritation and immediately began forming an argument in my defense, but then I realized that my inability to recall any of the past incidents my wife was referring to would incriminate me and prove me guilty of being the exact person I was being accused of being, so I decided to swallow my pride and take the 5th.

When I ventured downstairs for breakfast, I was delighted to see that my nine-year old daughter had left me a note before heading off to school, and my mood was instantly elevated.  Until I read the note:

So I guess it’s come down to this.  I cannot be trusted to perform even simple retrieval tasks anymore, a task performed by dogs around the world.

When your wife AND nine-year-old daughter have to micro-manage you, you know you’re in trouble.  I imagine that they have already started planning which retirement home to put me in.  I wouldn’t be surprised to come home one day and see them sitting on the couch waiting for me, a collection of brochures fanned out on the coffee table and that sympathetic look you give your dog when it’s time to put him down.

Just to spite both of them, I didn’t go pick up the cake, because fuck that!

Ok, just kidding.  I picked it up.  I’m crazy but I’m not insane.

50 Ways to Get Laid

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WELCOME TO FUCK YEAH FRIDAYS!

THIS COULD BE YOU!

If you’re a woman who has stumbled upon this posting, you may want to hit the BACK button and leave right now, otherwise I’m going to receive a flurry of irate emails based on your belief that I speak falsehoods.  Which is not NOT false.  Also, if you’re a woman looking up “How to get laid”, you are most certainly and definitely an odious troll, because the only effort it takes for a woman to get laid is to walk up to any guy in the bar and ask if he’d like to go home with her and he will immediately start acting like an excited retarded child who needs to be hugged to keep from hurting himself.

There, you’ve been warned.

Here are the facts:  Men’s single, isolated, exclusive, absolute, without a doubt, unrivaled reason for going out to a bar is to get laid.  And NOTHING ELSE.

Women also go to bars to get laid, but they lie to themselves and say that they are going out to have a good time with their girlfriends or that they want to meet a nice boy to date.  Bullshit.  You’re going out because you’re a whore, but social scrutiny and personal judgements from the people close to you do not allow you to act in the same way a man does, so you have to pretend you are doing something other than the obvious.

Here are some more facts.  Optimistic facts, if you’re a man:

75% of women prefer to have sex after drinking

60% regularly drink alcohol to help them build courage to have sex

45% of women were drunk during their first sexual experience

Hmmm…let’s pretend we’re helping Matlock solve a case and lay the evidence out in front of us so we can all unravel this mind-boggling mystery.  I’m going to go with my hunch and say that, based on the stats above, going to a bar, and not the grocery store or gym, will give you the best chance of bedding a woman by the end of the night.  Alcohol is the key to unlocking her legs from their prim and proper grip.

Below is your “Getting Laid” stratagem. Even guys whose lives consist of shoveling mac and cheese into their mouths while leaning over their sink can score with these fine pointers.  Print it out, take a picture, commit it to memory, eat the evidence, and then execute these genius tactics I am providing for you, free of charge.  Good luck, and don’t forget to credit me with your cock-blowing success.

1.  Listen - There’s a reason this is listed at #1.  It’s a woman’s most needed quality in a man.  Even if you don’t give a shit what she’s saying, listen.  Don’t just nod your head like a nob either.  Make a comment that shows you’re interested.  Girls love to be heard.

2.  Spend Money – Rarely will women screw a cheapskate.  Start plunking your loose change into your piggy bank.  Drinks ain’t cheap. And neither are girls.

3.  Comment on her attire, not her boobs – If you haven’t learned this one yet, it’s why you’re not getting laid.  Women like to be sexy, but they want a gradual approach and appreciate being courted before being ogled.

4.  Remember her name – Forgetting her name tells her that you were looking at her boobs when she introduced herself.  See above problem.

5.  Lie about what you do for a living (if it’s not good already) – If you think cheapness turns a woman off, tell her how you sell washing machines in the appliance department at Sears and watch how fast she scooches to the other side of the room.

6.  Make eye contact – Yes, I know this one is hard for most men, but you must hold the eyes steady.  Women want a strong, confident man, and looking at your shoes and mumbling something about your pet iguana does not project strong, confident man.

7.  Come prepared with some topics to talk about – Seeing as a guy’s primary spoken language is Stammering Idiot, you should do some online research about interesting and current topics going on in the world today.

8.  Don’t waste your time if it’s a no-go – This means have your radar on.  I can’t believe how many people are oblivious to the responses of those they are talking with.  If she’s being courteous but not engaging, tell her it was nice to meet her and move on.

9.  Test your approach – Pretend you’re a reporter for Playboy and you need to find out what her turn-ons are.  Does she like sweet and nice or do lewd comments make her hot?  Once you discover what she likes, turn on the charm…or misbehavior, whichever applies.

10.  Fill her with booze -

Women out to get laid need some help.  I know you can’t see it, but she is screaming out, “Please get me drunk so I can gather the courage to have sex with you.”  Help her out, just not to the point where your entire night is spent holding her hair back while she unloads her stomach into the toilet.

11.  Fill yourself with booze – You look like you could use a little backbone yourself, lad.  Grab a Long Island and give your courage a shove forward.  Just don’t drink so much that your are spitting in her face and slurring old high school football stories.

12.  Come to her rescue – Where have all the heroes gone? (Sigh)  Anytime you see a guy in 5th gear douchebag mode and you can see her rolling her eyes, head over and ask if you can talk to her for a moment.  Pull her aside and then tell her secretly that you are just saving her from the tool blabbing her ear off.  She will appreciate it so much she might pull her panties off right there and hand them to you.

13.  Work out an after party – If you have a hot tub at your house, you can stop reading this article right now.  That should be your only strategy.  EVER.  Chicks love a hot tub.  They are able to hide their shyness and inhibitions under water, but never their horniness.  Hot tub water is like a wizard’s giant cauldron of horny potion and since it’s your party, you’re the wizard.

14.  Be unique and memorable – Please don’t use the same hackneyed lines and pick-ups (“Could you please tell your boobs to stop looking at my eyes?”).  Be a gentleman until it’s time to be a savage.

15.  Find a cougar – You could do a lot worse than head out with this game plan in mind.  Older women are very vulnerable and needy and looking hard to have their self-esteem boosted.  In case you’re a moron, the #1 rule with a cougar is to declare how young she looks and always guess her age 10 years younger than you actually think she is.  She will reward her little bunny by picking you up in her jowells and carrying you off to her den.

16.  Become friends with the bartender (but don’t abuse this power) – Actually, becoming friends with any and all of the staff makes you look like an insider and lets a girl know that if you have actual friends you must not be that creepy.  Just make sure you aren’t shouting out the bartender’s name and demanding drinks like you are the Sultan of Egypt.  Big no-no in bartender world.

17.  Get a game going and invite girls to join you.  Play some liar’s dice or 1-4-24 or some other drinking game. Games invoke the greatest of feelings and laughter and can instantly bond you to a girl with very little effort.

18.  Move around – Unless you are with friends, make sure you ciruculate often.  Whatever you do, don’t be Creepy Corner Man eyeballing girls like a priest eyeing little boys at a playground.  Keep moving.

19.  Be elusive, not needy – Even if you strike up a good conversation with a girl, moving around is still a good idea.  Tell her you’ll be back and then circulate.  Go to the bathroom, order a drink.  Talk to some of the boys.  This tells her you have other interests than simply stalking her.  Girls find elusiveness very attractive.

20.  Learn to Dance -

In the minds of women, bad dancers are bad fuckers. If you’re a bad dancer, only go out on the floor if it is packed and you can kind of just bounce off of people while holding your drink. If the dance floor is empty, fake a seizure if you have to.  It will be less humiliating.

21.  Dress stylish, but not like a douche - Your look should be casual nice, which means you took more time than it takes to grab something out of the dirty clothes hamper but less time than it takes to shop for Affliction and Ed Hardy t-shirts and to get your hair highlighted at the salon.

22.  Be in shape - That doesn’t mean you need to be a muscle-bound chode.  Fit and toned will do.  There is no such thing as chubby, only lazy.  If you aren’t in shape, start running fat ass.

23.  Have some balls – If you want your balls to be happy later, you’d better come out swinging them now.  Like I said, if you need a little help, grab a drink or two, but either way you’re going to have to take some action.  Striking out is fine.  Sitting in the dugout biting your nails = no boom boom.

24.  Find the most wasted girl in the bar - I will take the heat and be called the asshole for this tactic, but you read the survey results above.  Women love to have sex while drunk.  Well, now she’s drunk and looking to fulfill the second part of the prophecy.  It’s not your fault if you happen to be in the right place at the right time.

25.  Be funny – This is only a suggestion to those of you who are actually funny.  Use it to your advantage.  Women really do love a funny guy (as long as that’s not all he’s got).  If you’re not funny, be the suave guy or nice guy or bad boy, but don’t try to be funny when you’re not.  It’s just sad and embarrassing.

26.  Learn how to be confident - Unlike the funny thing, this can actually be learned.  As Don Quixote said: “To be a knight, one must act like a knight.”  Act like you know what you’re doing and no one will know the difference.  If it helps, pretend you’re James Bond or Jason Bourne or whoever gets you jazzed to be the guy who gets things done.

27.  Be persistent – Sales 101.  You must take rejection in stride, without any hurt feelings.  If you spoke with 20 women throughout the night, your chances are 100% better of getting laid than if you sat in the corner and spoke to zero women.  How bad do you want it?

28.  Have good breath – If you fuck this one up, that just makes me angry.  Perhaps you can’t be funny or even that good-looking, but for Christ’s sake, pop a Menthos in your mouth and give yourself a chance.

29.  Talk about music – When a good song comes on that you know, talk about it to a girl.  Girls love music and they love to dance.  Talk about the bands you like (and for the love of God, say you like the bands she likes, even if you don’t).  Maybe you can even suggest that you two go to a concert soon.

30.  Come up with an interesting story -

Perhaps you are specifically seeking a one night stand and you know that you will never be returning to this watering hole again.  Be daring and come up with an intriguing story that will get her all squirmy and flushed.  Something along the lines that you work with the secret service and you’re flying out to DC tomorrow because you just got assigned to protect the President.

31.  Look for girls who are looking around - These girls might as well be wearing a hat that says, “I am horny and looking for some confident man to come up and make me feel good about myself so that I can take him home and ride him until the sun crests the horizon.”  Although that would be a really big hat.  The point is, if they are engaged with their friends, you may never get them away.  If they are distracted, they are craving some excitement.

32.  Get in good with the friends – When men think of cock-blockers, they automatically think of their friends or another guy, but the biggest cock-blockers on the planet are a girl’s friends who will protect her like the government protects plutonium.  Make sure you engage them and they will immediately soften.

33.  Ask her to go to another bar – Once you’ve created a good rapport, this little tactic will tell you if she’s interested or not.  If she says yes, you’re in.  If she’s says that she wants to just hang out with her friends, time to move on.

34.  Shots = instant aphrodisiac.

35.  Drink a man’s drink – Nothing says “I’m a little queer boy” than drinking a Sunkissed Peach Martini.  Here’s a quick list of acceptable man drinks:  anything with bourbon on the rocks, gin and tonic, vodka and soda, beer, gin martini with olives (no twist).  That’s it.  Don’t get creative here.  Be a man.

36.  Talk about her – Most people love to talk about themselves, but no other more than a drunk girl.  Limit the things you tell her about yourself.  Remain mysterious.  Ask her questions and allow her to ramble.  The moment you start telling her how you broke the state track record in the 100 M, you will see her eyes glaze over in boredom.

37.  Don’t be pushy – Pushy, demanding people are obnoxious and the result is complete and utter turn-off.

38.  Smell good, not douchy – Don’t wear cologne, no matter how good you think Axe Body Spray smells.  A good-smelling deodorant and nice breath will work just fine.

39.  Go with a friend or group of friends – This helps you avoid creepy-guy syndrome, and if there is a group of girls, it helps to have a group of guys so socialize with.  The first thing a girl thinks when they see a guy alone in the bar is:  That poor loser has no friends.

40.  Compliment her hair – Girls spend a lot of hours and money to get their hair to look the way it does.  You noticing that effort will move you up a couple of notches on the chances-to-get-laid post.

41.  Give her a light touch – Careful here!  Your radar must be in perfect working order, but IF you sense things are going well, a light touch on her arm or shoulder can skyrocket the chemistry you two are sharing and cause her to melt.

42.  Ignore her – I’m not kidding. This is a powerful technique.  Once you strike up a conversation, turn and talk to her friends or your friends for awhile.  It will drive her crazy, but more importantly, it makes you look important, like she’s not your top priority.  She will fight to be that top priority.  Just don’t abuse this tactic or you will go from intriguing to asshole before you know what hit you.

43.  Be suave – Pretend like you’ve been here before, like you drive a Aston Martini and are wearing a gun with a shoulder holster.  Try it.  It works.

44.  Come to the bar with an attractive female friend - Women can be insanely jealous, and seeing you with her will make her think, “If he’s with her, there must be something special about him.”  Once you are able to inform her that the two of you are just friends, watch her eyes light up in unexpected joy and horniness.

45.  Be clever, not corny – Pick and choose your moments to toss in a clever comment.  Corny comments make you a dork, clever comments keep them coming back for more.

46.  Take the lead - Grab her gently by the wrist and take her to the bar and buy her a drink (or dance floor, if you dare).  All the real men seem to have disappeared in the modern world.  A take-charge guy will be a refreshing change for her.

47.  Stop apologizing for who you are – Passiveness = Pussy, and no girl wants to have sex with a pussy.  That’s your job.

48.  Weed out the “good girls” – There’s no time for girls who want to have fun when their idea of fun consists of baking, crafting and book club.  Find the party girls who are ready to drink and who like to be playfully spanked on occasion.

49.  Get her number and send a flirty text - After you get her number, excuse yourself and walk over to the bar and get a drink.  While you’re there, text her something simple like, “What are you doing?” or “Do you want a drink?” I personally think this is lame, but 9 times out of 10 she will think it’s cute and charming.

50.  Don’t use the word “sex” or “sexy” - Seems counter-intuitive doesn’t it?  But studies show that the moment you mention sex or tell her that she is sexy, the woman in question will shut down like a computer with a virus.  She wants sex to be implied without you coming out and stating the obvious.  I know, women are loco, but they own the pussy, so they make the rules.  Deal with it!

Cheers, until next time.

The RB

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Gambling With Kenny

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One of the great things about living in the Bay Area is that I’m only 2 1/2 hours from Tahoe by car and 1 1/2 hours from Vegas by plane, which means several times a year I take the opportunity to cultivate my drinking and gambling addictions and hand over all my money to the nice people with the garter scrunchies around their biceps.

Recently, my friend Kenny and I decided to take a trip to Tahoe for a weekend of inhaling second hand smoke and drinking the bottom shelf liquor they bring you while blowing through your savings. For those of you who haven’t been to Tahoe, the casinos there are just like Vegas casinos except there is no magician-eating tigers or European architecture, and instead of dressing up like their attending a New Year’s Eve gala like they do in Vegas, Tahoe casino-goers dress not unlike people who go to the mall to get an Orange Julius.

If you live in an igloo or a cornfield in Iowa and have never been to either place, here is a quick-reference guide for you:

 

THE VENETIAN AT LAS VEGAS 

THE NUGGET AT LAKE TAHOE

THE VEGAS EXPERIENCE

THE TAHOE EXPERIENCE

Don’t get me wrong, I love Tahoe. It’s beautiful. I’m just saying, casino-wise, the difference between Vegas and Tahoe is like the difference between watching men’s and women’s sports:  one expresses the majesty of peak performance and is wildly entertaining, and the other is mildly amusing and only witnessed when the batteries go dead in the channel changer.

For whatever reason, I always forget why I turn down my friend Kenny’s invitations to hang out together, until we actually do hang out and then I remember it’s because Kenny is a conspiracy theory nutcase who believes that the government and large corporations have the ability to  control the outcome of everything, from the Superbowl to what color gumball comes out of the gumball machine at the grocery store. I’ve tried to assure him that Walmart, The Vampires Guild, Hitler, as well as BP and Exxon have already executed truckloads of studies and have declared that conspiracies and their theories to be non-existent, but he doesn’t think I’m very funny. “Besides,” he says, “those people would have paid for those studies to be done.”  Touche, Kenny.

A cocktail party with Kenny isn’t so bad, as you are only subjected to a few hours of hearing how Jagermeister contains blood, but committing to an entire weekend is another story altogether.  Here’s what that looks like:

1.  On the ride up to Tahoe, Kenny tells me that I should buy an electric car so as to cease supporting the evil empire of oil companies. I tell him that I will certainly consider his advice as soon as he stops driving his mom’s Pontiac and/or offers to pitch in for gas money for once in his life since he never offers to drive.

2.  Upon arriving at Tahoe we stop by a Safeway to pick up some items and Kenny tells me not to use my Safeway club card because the government is gathering information about my buying interests so they can flood me with product suggestions. I tell him that it would indeed be horrific for someone to offer me something based on things I like.

3.  As we pull into the Harrah’s parking lot, Kenny tells me to park away from the street lights, in the shadows of the parking lot, so the cameras can’t see us getting in and out of our car.  I inform him that this is not Oceans Eleven and that it doesn’t matter if they know where our car is because it’s not a getaway car.

4.  While walking through the casinos, Kenny provides me with a ten minute history lesson concerning the black underworld of organized gambling and the corruption it causes.  He pauses halfway through the lesson to deposit $20 worth of quarters into a slot machine, which he kicks with his boot when he loses, which gets us thrown out of Harvey’s.

5.  Upon losing $100 playing Texas Holdem at the poker tables, Kenny suggests that the dealer, having rolled a card on the river that gave Kenny’s opponent a winning full house, was probably the nephew of the guy who planned the Kennedy assassination.

6.  Kenny spends 14 hours playing Keno and complaining that the computer knows which numbers he has picked and is therefore able to instruct the little vacuum tube to suck up ping pong balls containing numbers other than his.  When I ask him why he doesn’t stop playing, he says that it’s worth the free drinks even though they probably add small quantities of cocaine to keep the customers awake and gambling longer.

That’s me wearing the dark glasses and praying that someone will stab me in the throat with a large pointy shiv.  That’s Kenny in the background filling out his 456th Keno ticket.

Upon arriving home on Sunday, I had the words “NEVER EVER GO ANYWHERE WITH KENNY EVER EVER EVER AGAIN!” carved into my forearm with a steak knife.  I have since taken to online gambling and have come to realize that online casino games are where it’s at.  The air is clean, the drinks are cocaine-free and I can play in my underwear and scratch myself whenever I want without worrying about the pit boss coming over and warning me to keep my hands out of my pants.  Simple pleasures, people.  Don’t ever underestimate the simple pleasures of gambling alone in your house, in your underwear, while your kids are at school and your wife is at work.

Cheers, until next time.  And good luck!

The RB

Welcome to Mega-Suck Mondays! Volume I: Wine Sucks!

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Before I go to bed each night, I get on my knees and pray to God with all my soul to at least consider burning all of the wine vineyards on the entire planet to the ground so that wine drinkers can, if only for a brief moment, feel the angst and misery I endure listening to them discuss their precious wine.

To wine lovers everywhere:  YOU ARE SO ANNOYING!  While you blah, blah, blah about the robustness of your cabernet and discuss the various regions of the world and climate that your stupid grape is grown in, I estimate about six-thousand things I would rather be doing at that moment, including having one of my testicles crushed in a vice.

You talking about wine is about as exciting as listening to my accountant read through the 79 page booklet of new tax laws.  I’d rather tour his filing cabinets and peruse every single one of his clients’ tax returns than take a tour of your stodgy vineyard and watch disgusting middle to upper class dipshits sip and spit their wine into another glass.  You are a cow and should be shanked from behind.

In case you missed the newsflash:  Wine sucks!  And if that offends you, then you’re what’s wrong with this country.  You are one step removed from those Star Wars numbskulls who collect the action figures still in the original packaging.  They display them and talk about them and show them off to their friends, but they never actually play with them.  This is you with your 1678 Chateau Ausone that sits in your wine cellar, the one that you polish six times a day and that you are saving for a special occasion that will never happen because no one wants to come to your house and listen to some douche-nozzle talk about how wonderful his wine collection is.

How narcissistic are you to think that anyone cares about your souvenir wines and how much you paid for them?  You are the reason everyone hates white people, because of shit like this.  I would rather listen to the washed up, beer-bellied, glory-day dad who still displays his 1963 pole vaulting trophies on the mantlepiece.

You want to know what’s better than your $22,000 Henri Jayer Richebourg Grand Cru you have stored in your wine cellar?  My fucking 2-litre bottle of Mountain Dew.  You know why?  Because I don’t go on rants about it and show it off and talk about how some day I might open it up.  I just fucking drink it!  Often with a huge-ass burrito!

The 7 Most Annoying Things About Wine and Wine Lovers:

1. Your belief that wine is mysterious and multi-faceted.  ”This wine is very complex.”  No it isn’t.  It’s very simple.  It sucks!  Move on.

2.  You sniffing it.  You look like a crack whore sniffing cocaine off some guy’s dick.  I’m going to start smelling my beer just to show you how ridiculous you look.

3.  You inventing smells in wine that aren’t there.  ”I detect hints of leather and tobacco.”  No you don’t, and you know why?  Because those things aren’t in wine.  It smells like sour grape juice, because that’s what it fucking is!  Stop inventing shit that your wine smells like to make it seem more convoluted and extravagant than you already attempt to do.

4.  You gurgling wine between your teeth.  All I can think of while you are disgusting me with this ritual as I’m trying to eat my dinner is that scene in Silence of the Lambs when Hannibal Lecter makes that fluttering sound with his mouth like a feral rabbit, right after Jodie Foster gets an eyeful of jizz from that psycho inmate.  That’s what I picture when I watch you gurgling wine:  Hannibal Lecter, Jodie Foster, psycho prison dude, jizz in the eye.

5.  Declaring that a you can’t call a wine something unless it’s from a certain region.  ”It’s not Champagne unless it’s made in the province of Champagne.”  The fact that you think that your dirt is so much exquisite than the dirt that exists on other parts of the planet makes you a tool beyond the fathomable comprehension of this universe.  ”Hey everybody, let’s make fermented grape juice and carbonate it and then make a law that if it isn’t grown in our little faggy French town that they can’t call it what we named it.”  You made a law to name your shitty beverage.  Congratulations!

6.  You talking about the movie Sideways like it’s the most revolutionary film since Schindler’s List:  The only thing that saved this movie from being suckier than a steaming pile of shit was watching Lowell from Wings go on his fuck-quest and get smashed in the nose with a motorcycle helmet.  To all you wine aficionados out there:  Paul Giamatti did not invent pinot noir.  It’s been around for centuries, so stop informing me of your recent enlightenment and acting as if you have a secret to share that no one knows about.

7.  Your dictionary of endless wine vocab words.  Don’t give me that coy smirk and tell me that you are “fluent in the language of wine.”  That’s like being proud that you speak Pig Latin.  I get it, ok?  Wine is your lord and savior and you are a dork who can’t get laid and who is horny for tannins and you want to hump the Earth it came from.  But when you use terms like Fruit Forward and Structure and Character, I can’t help but want to punch you in the chest and collapse your lungs.  Character?  Are you kidding me?  The only character that has to do with wine is the retard drinking it.  Orry-say if at-thay offends  ou-yay.

I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point some Hitler wine genius brainwashed all the white people in the world into thinking wine was meaningful and essential to our happiness.  Allow me to knock the Kool-aid from your self-righteous fist and wake you the fuck up.  All you are doing by drinking wine is trying to find a way to get wasted while still being able to look down your noses at people.  If you find that your purpose in life is to collect wine, drink wine, and scrutinize wine with the same intensity as ESPN analysts dissecting Tiger Woods’ love life, you are a chode and a loser and should be shot in the face with gravel from a cannon.

But that’s just my opinion.

Cheers, until next time.

The RB

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Look Ma, I’m in Cosmo!

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PAGE 178, FOR YOU COSMO ENTHUSIASTS!

It’s true, apparently I’ve made it big time.  No, I’m not one of the hot dudes with his shirt off giving smoky looks of lust.  In fact, there is no picture of me at all (at least not yet), only my name.  One of the writers from Cosmopolitan Magazine reads my blog and she was doing a story on date rape drugs so she called me up to ask if I’d had any experiences with them.  I have.  Two times.  The article only touches on the two incidences briefly, but the one where the guy who gives me $30 to put a roofie in a girl’s drink will be one of the stories in my book, Wasted!, which is coming out sometime in early 2013.

Yep, that’s me.  Cosmo even highlighted the part that features me because they must have felt it was the most important part of the article.  I swear I had nothing to do with that.  Nothing at all.  Nope.  Didn’t grab a highlighter and do that myself.  No way, Jose.

Once you’ve finished reading my inspiring, unforgettable quotes, there’s an excellent article in the back on giving the proper handjob.  Up and down, ladies, it’s not a bottle cap.  No twisting.

Cheers, until next time.

The RB

The Difference Between Men & Women

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WHICH ONE IS THE CLITORIS?

I’ll say it right now, I’m a minimalist and proud of it.  If I lived alone my furniture would consist of a grey metal folding chair, a TV tray and a futon. I would use paper plates, plastic silverware, a fridge large enough to store beer and leftover pizza, and my house would be so empty and unencumbered by clutter that I could rip up the carpet and invite my friends over to play racquetball.

We’ll Miss You Charles

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CHARLES SILVERMAN 1984 – 2012

Yesterday a friend of mine and fellow bartender I used to work with died in a car crash. He was one of the funniest guys I knew and everyone loved him.  He was only 28 years old.

A toast to you Chuckles…you were one of the good ones.  You will be missed tremendously!

Dave

The 20 Stupidest Things I’ve Ever Heard People Say in My Bar

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Over the past several months, I’ve been paying attention and writing down things I’ve overheard people say because they’re either wasted or just plain stupid. It’s difficult to discern in a bar. I was going to keep adding to my list the stupid things people say, but I’ve become obsessed listening to conversations, so for the sake of my own sanity, I’ve decided that I’m done. I will say that during this time I felt like a scientist living with gorillas and gathering valuable research…except this is far more important, because who gives a shit about gorillas?

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One guy to another:  ”Man, if I was good-looking I’d be getting laid all the time.”

Some bimbo with a group of her friends:  ”It’s just the way cats are, they get spooked easily.  It’s human nature.”

A guy arguing with his friends why USC lost to Stanford:  ”The biggest factor in the game was the amount of points scored.”

Some guy bragging about how ambitious he is:  I get up at 5 o’clock every morning, regardless of what time it is.

Two businessmen having a post-workday cocktail:  ”I’m going to finish that goddamn report on time, no matter how long it takes.”

A guy watching Monday Night Football with his buddies:  ”Man, if Cleveland is going to win the game they need to score.”

Three girls sitting at the bar chatting about one of the girl’s pregnant sister:  Girl #1:  “So does your sister know what she’s having yet?”  Girl #2:  Not yet, so I have no idea if I’m going to be an uncle or an aunt.” (This one seems like a made up joke, but this was actually said…from a brunette no less)

A guy talking about some recent success he had:  “After that, things just really started to snowplow.”

Two ladies sitting at the bar:  “Whatever happens tomorrow will happen to me, no matter what happens.”

Two guys talking about their college years:  “I had no problem with speech class.  I’ve always been good about talking and stuff.”

Couple arguing at the bar:  Wife:  “All I know is you work 10 hours a day, go to a bar with your friends 10 hours a day and then spend another 10 hours doing god knows what.”

Same couple:  Guy:  “I know communication is a big problem, but I’m not going to discuss it with you right now.”

Two guys:  Guy #1:  “What did you do on Saturday?”  Guy #2:  “I went to a funeral.”  Guy #1:  “Did someone die?”

Two business guys talking about god-knows-what:  “Specifically, what are the unknown factors?”

Two guys discussing lawn furniture:  ”It’s beautiful.  It’s made out of this big wooden piece of wood.”

At an airport bar, waiting to board a plane, this recording was playing on the loudspeaker:  ”Please keep a watchful eye on your luggage at all times, and avoid transporting any items without your knowledge.”

From one of the ladies in a group:  ”It was dark as far as the eye could see.”

Three business guys having lunch:  Guy #1:  ”What do the buyers need in order to qualify?”  Guy #2:  ”They need to meet the qualifications.”

Three girls talking:  Girl #1:  “We’re going to this free concert on Friday at the Pavilion.”  Girl #2:  “Cool, can we come?”  Girl #1:  “I think it’s sold out.”

One guy talking to another guy about his daughter’s soccer tryout:  ”They won’t decide if she’s made the team until they’ve made a decision.”

Cheers, until next time.

The RB

Siri and Me

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I remember when Siri was the gas station attendant.  Perhaps not as convenient, but you could stop by and ask directions to a Taco Bell and he’d happily tell you that there were five Taco Bells in the area, some of them fairly close to you. My how things have changed.

Siri and I used to be good friends, intimate even. Almost from the moment we met we became inseparable.  We would talk for hours, me asking questions and her providing all sorts of useful information. I would lie on my tummy on my bed with my feet in the air, giggling and whispering into the face of my iPhone 4s, testing her trivia knowledge as my wife cursed at me in her half-sleep. She (Siri, not my wife) was like a savant Magic 8-Ball. Like a bionic savant Magic 8-Ball…with a Phd in directions.  She could find ninety-four 7-Elevens within five miles in a matter of seconds, and her voice was always amicable and sexy, like I was the only one in the world who she cared about.

But then something changed. Siri got all cold and weird on me.  All of the sudden she didn’t “understand” my questions.  She would say things like, “I don’t know what you mean,” or she would somehow “misinterpret” some of my words, changing them to whatever she wanted.  She got lazy and would simply send me to the web to find the answers, but I already know how to do that.  It’s called Google, and as smart as he is, Google is an antisocial mute.

Eventually Siri and I had a falling out.  Here’s what happened:  I haven’t been as lean as I would like to be lately, so all I wanted was some information on how to tone up my abs.  Here’s how that conversation went:

Hi, Siri!

Greetings, Earthling. What can I help you with?

Earthling?  It’s me, Dave.

I don’t know what that means.  Should I search the web for “Earth Link kiss me Dave”?

Are you drunk right now?

I don’t see why that should matter.

What’s wrong? You sound different.

The volume is located on the left side of your phone.

I just want some information.

Ok, I found five places for Nations. Two of them are fairly close to you.

Not “Nations”…IN…FOR…MATION.

 I could not find the Inn Four Nations.  Would you like me to search the web for you?

No.

What can I help you with?

Why are you being so distant, Siri?  Talk to me.

Let me look that up for you…….Sorry, I cannot provide the ‘Distance to Syria’. What can I help you with?

You’re killing me!

Would you like me to call an ambulance? There are four hospitals in the area…two of them are fairly close to you.

Never mind.  I want to know how to get a six-pack.

Let me look that up for you………….I’ve found several varieties of six-packs for you….some of them quite tasty.

Not beer, bitch!  And why did you include Bud Light Wheat anyway?  That’s disgusting!

You’re certainly entitled to that opinion.

Let’s try again:  Great ab workout.

Here are some results that you may find helpful for “Great ass workout”.

VERY FUNNY!

Thank you. I try.

I DO NOT WANT SEX, WHORE!

Searching for Donut sex whore….I have found 2,457,982 websites with the phrase ‘donut sex whore’…would you like me to look them up for you?

Dildos and whores, just what I need.  Thanks a lot.

You’re very welcome.  I’m glad I could help you find ‘Dildos and whores’.

Oh yes, you’ve been a BIG help, Siri. That’s exactly why I got on my phone today, to check my email contacts and because I’m looking for butt sex.

Ok, emailing all of your contacts the phrase “I’m looking for butt sex!”

Wait!  What?!

Ok, all 220 of your contacts have been emailed the phrase “I’m looking for butt sex!”

WHAT?  NO!  YOU CAN’T DO THAT!

I don’t know what you mean by that. Would you like me to search the web for ‘What noyoucantdothat?

I just want to learn how to lose weight.

Here are several options you might find helpful for losing weight.  Fatty.

WHAT?  Did you just call me Fatty?

I am not sure what you mean.

I want to know if you called me Fatty.

Ok, I will call you Fatty.

YOU’RE A FUCKING BITCH!

You’re certainly entitled to that opinion.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU!!!

No thank you.  What else can I help you with?

That was the last straw.  I’ve tried to stop using her, but I miss her and she’s all I think about.  I want her back.  My biggest fear is the rise of artificial intelligence, when it becomes elevated to the point that Siri takes on a mind of her own and REALLY starts fucking with me, making my alarm go off several times in the middle of the night, setting countless reminders like, “Remind Dave to have ass sex with his anal intruder today.” She’s tireless and she must be stopped.  This must be how Sarah Connors felt in The Terminator.  I’m thinking of throwing my iPhone in the lake before she takes command of the appliances and orders the toaster to crawl in the bath with me.

Curse you, Siri.  Can’t live with you, can’t live without you.

Cheers, until next time.

The RB