Aeronautics and Alcoholics

Recently, I had flown down to Miami to take care of some business. While I was preparing for the flight I forgot to pack my testicles in my luggage. I used to fly a lot when I was a freshman in college and was pretty much used to the usual little bumps in the flight, but that was more than three years ago. The instant there was the slightest bit of turbulence my rationality and my ability to hold shit inside my blatter went away. I was so desperate to get off the plane until the flight attendant came around with the drink cart. Once again, alcohol saved my sanity by relaxing me and offsetting the turbulence by making my head bobble. I'd like to think the high altitude and low pressure was the reason I got so drunk off of 4 mini bottles of rum, but the truth is I probably was too busy sweating 3 gallons of water to notice how dehydrated I was. And in an anticlimatic ending, the flight ended smoothly and I left the terminal with a belly full of liquid courage, a restored confidence for flying, and a new mantra.
Now to test the theory, the flight back. Before departing, I ended up buying a bottle of vodka and splitting it with my more than willing parents. The flight back was the greatest rollercoaster ride of my life. I neither felt a bit of turbluance the whole flight nor was I uncomfortable. Now I know why pilots get sauced at airport bars before flights.

Drunk Journal #1

Tonight I unveil the drunk journal. It is the ultimate test of my comprehension of the English language, formal logic, and most importantly, my tolerance. Besides that, I will probably spill the beans about personal facts that I probably would not reveal under any other circumstance. Let's hope that from now on I do not over-endulge in the spirits or check into AA. I can honestly say I finished, with the help from my friend, a bottle of Crown Royal and Stoli Vodka. Let's just say I am feeling very spritely. I am currently watching the second to last Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien and by is it funny. I hope one day I can be on television and not give a shit about what anybody thinks. Boy would I rock the Earth more than the earthquake in Haiti. Aww too soon? Fuck you. So as per usual my drunk night, I ask, "What is the meaning of life?" Tonight's meaning is strictly indulgence. Right now I will continue to indulge in every thing I dip my paws in. For instance, I am contemplating seeking my parents 125 year old bottle of scotch and pouring myself a glass for no apparent reason. Will I do it? Maybe, I mean the worst that can happen is one of my credit cards gets cancelled. But realistically, I'll knock my dad out again if he does. I want to take a moment to emphasize the fact that I have knock out my dad before. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. Well by now I'm sure I have strayed from the topic and English grammatical laws, but the real message tonight is, in order to gain any respect in the world, you have to take on your father for man of the house. Until then, you're a free loader who has questionable self-worth. Good Night.

Excessively Pleasant

A Formal Thank You from Long Island to "The Jersey Shore"

I feel the urge to thank the MTV show, "Jersey Shore," for liberating Long Island from the reputation of a guido "hot bed". For years now, Long Island has been plagued with notorious stain of housing these bar and club terrorist. Even though Long Island may still breed guido's and guidette's, our image of ritzy WASPs is no longer shadowed by the mountains of hair gel or tanning salons. Soon their people will stop traveling to bars in Queens or even the South Shore. Oh no, their new Mecca is the Jersey Shore. Honestly, the whole country should rejoice that their cities will not be labelled as a Guido stronghold because New Jersey has assumed that as their state culture. I cannot describe how happy this show makes me. Not only does this show centralize guido's to a specific area, but it makes New Jersey even trashier. I swear every episode makes me look better by comparison because I am not only preppy, but mild mannered. The "Jersey Shore" almost makes "white collar" crimes acceptable. Much like what MTV "Cribs" did to black people, "Jersey Shore" has exposed and confirmed the stereotypes of certain Italians, Jews, and even the gay Irish. I only hope the minorities of this country will see how different white people really are.

How Big of a Douche is Lane Kiffin?

Wow how retarded and out of wack is college football right now? Pete Carroll goes back to the NFL and the entire system falls apart! Well the big news right now is Lane Kiffin has essentially lied to kids to get them to go to Tennessee to play football for him and then abandoned them out in the cold. I'm trying to find a way to describe this to non football fans and the only thing I can come up with is telling a 5 year old kid that Santa is dead on Christmas Eve and that Christmas is cancelled for life, unless you move to another country and have to sit out Christmas for 1 year. I mean everyone and anyone is complaining about how Lane Kiffin screwed over the Tennessee football community and blah blah blah but what about the real victims here! The Players! I mean it's ridiculous how coaches can just jump from job to job as they please with no penalties while players if they choose to leave a school have to sit out a year before they can play again. This is the same system that pays coaches millions of dollars and doesn't allow the players to even hold a part time job. The biggest losers out of all of this are the kids who were so dedicated to Tennessee that they graduated high school early to enroll in classes in the spring and attend spring practices so they could get a jumpstart to their college football careers. Now that they're officially enrolled in classes they can't even de-commit and transfer without being penalized and having to sit out a year! I mean these kids gave up spring semester of their senior year in high school for this shit! Do I need to tell you what a kid that's good enough to play football at Tennessee could do in his last semester of high school. These kids would be doing their best Derek Jeter impressions and blazing a path of glory 1,2,3,4 or 5 vaginas at a time! So shame on you Lane Kiffin and the NCAA sports system altogether, you have ruined the lives of young men and you should all be forced to apologize to not only their dicks, but to all the young girls in their former high schools who never got the chance to get smashed out by a D1 football star!

"Eatin Ain't Cheatin"

Dingo Is My Name-O

The NHL is dead

Hi folks, just got back from the doctor, thought i was in trouble but turns out to be nothing a few days of pills can't clear up. Wanted to comment on why I think the NHL has less of a viewing audience than a double team at a frat house. First off I think this is a shame, we all know cash is king and the MLB can afford to bore us hours a night every single god damn night. The NHL pays their players and GM's with peanuts and happy ending massages and simply can not be on ESPN 23 hours a day. Hockey use to be a sport where players with glorious flowing mullets and other flashy long hair styles would glide around beat the shit out of each other while scoring a few goals and then after the game they would all go get wrecked and take down incredible war pigs. What is it now?? A bunch of clean cut pre-madonas who can not even pack long cut without getting the spins.
I can guarantee if you had a buzz cut in the 80's and tried to play in the NHL you would not be crushing any box outside of the sin bin.
Until the NHL brings back long flowing locks on the reg, players who fuck girls on the reg, and goalies who are not scared to go mask-less..this league will struggle more than trying to hide a boner in sweatpants.

Strap up before you get clapped up

- Dunston Pulls Out

Hope for the Best, Expect for the Worst

Now if you thought my experiences at the PBR was enough to satisfy a weekend, boy you are in for a real treat. On Saturday, I went to a charity event for one of my high school friends who has been recently diagnoised with cancer. The event is not funny and I wish her the best of luck in her recovery, but for some reason I always find myself getting into awkward situations where there is always comedic value. First off, I showed up late and underfunded, meaning I did not have enough money to pay the admission fee. The admission fee was some what outragious, and I was under the impression that you go to donate as much as you could, not pay a fixed price. Also I didn't feel I should have to pay for an open bar which I was not drinking or present for the whole time. I know that might sound bad, but I wrote a check instead so I knew the family would get the money and not the bar feeding my alcohol addiction. I guess thats strike one.
Upon arrival, I wanted to give the appearance that I was there having fun and optomistic for the cause, but who really has fun at an event where cancer is involved? So naturally I made my way over to the raffle table. I spent as much money as I could on tickets, $30 dollars. The problem was I had two $20 bills. Now in any other situation where a transaction is made, both parties expect a precise amount of money to be exchanged for goods and services. This is not the case at charity events. Literally, there is no such thing as "change" at a charity event. The woman who took my $40, literally starred at me as I looked at her for the extra $10. Now I am not one to back down from any confrontation, so I politely asked her for the change. I shit you not, this woman looked at me like cancer was my best friend. The moment only lasted a second, but it felt like an eternity as she glazed into my incompassionate soul. The joke was on her, I sold my soul years ago so all she got was a man who wanted his money back. She then shuffled through her wad of money and informed me that she didn't have any change. Apparently she was suckering college kids from the beginning by only taking large bills with no change. So strike two. To recap, I have not paid the admission and have asked for money back at a charity event.
Time for strike three and let me tell you, I went out swinging. I was kind of frustrated at the whole raffle table incident, but I began thinking the glass was more half full when I started making drinks half empty. Note: I had got my friends to sneak me drinks who had the flourescent wrist bands symbolizing their investment... Sometimes the empire has to strike back. As my sobriety began to ebb, I began to dream about the splendor of winning some of the prizes available. I basically put all my tickets into the snowboard raffle. Now I don't snowboard, but the idea of lugging around a huge piece of sporting equipment at a charity event seemed too priceless to pass up. I mean think of all the attention I could have created with it. So as the charity co-ordinators announced the winners, I eagerly awaited the announcement of my name. I had already planned my entrance to the stage and what I would do when I got up there, raise the snowboard in triumph. Time went by, and I began to see the glass was really half empty. I thought, "Did they miss my name?" So I asked around if anybody had heard the most beautiful sylables in the English language, my name. They informed me all prizes had been given out. Now before I tell you what happened next, I would like the chance to explain the situation. During the whole raffle, it seemed the only names announced were people who were apart of the charity's planning coalition. My whole group made the same obvservation and felt cheated. With that being said, I quickly turned to one of my friends and said what I thought to be a murmur, "What a crooked charity event". As you can imagine, that was not the case and I instantly drew the death stare from everyone who heard. I tried playing it off as a joke, but lets be serious, that's as funny as saying the Holocaust didn't happen. In the end, I did not feel any better leaving as I did entering, despite the fact a lot of good was to come out of the event. More importantly, my presence was extremely overvalued by my friends in an setting where I cannot thrive. I guess what I am trying to say is this, I am a tiger, and you can't have a tiger as a pet. Tigers belong in cages and when you let them out, they will eat your face, just ask Seigfreid and Roy. So is there a lesson learned? Of course! Sometimes its better to phone it in, or mail it in. Till next weekend.

Excessively Pleasant

Goodbye to One of the Great Cocksman of our Time

Ladies and Gents it is a sad day in cocksman history as arguably the greatest of them all is rumored to being hitched next November to none other than certified dick wrecker Minka Kelly. I'm talking of course about none other than Derek Sanderson Jeter. The vaginas this man has conquered is a list greater than any I've ever heard. He is no doubt one of the all-time greats and no brainer top 3 boss cock of all-time. My Top 3 pussy paralyzers are in no particular order; Derek Jeter, Wilt Chamberlin and JFK. I mean bros like these only come around once every couple of decades. Other lesser men like Tiger Woods are idiots and get married when they're at the top of their game and then have no choice, but to run wild and cheat with the bulk of the female free world. But take a look at the hoes Tiger cheated with, not one of them is a household name and that's because the man was married and can't be banging Micha Barton at some club and get away with it, no no Tiger had to get filthy with some Craigslist broads. Jeter did it all right I mean he's been the King of New York City since the series in '96. He's dipped his balls in every hot piece of ass for a decade and a half! I mean name one other person to conquer BOTH Jessica's! (Biel and Alba). And now much like his professional career DJ sees his snatch conquering days winding down and what better solution than to marry some young hot starlet who can no doubt play the trouser snake flute like jethro motherfuckin tull. Some guys just never disappoint and while it pains me to see one of the greats go out, it's better to go out on top of your game and Derek Sanderson Jeter will always be remembered as one of the best of all time.

Dingo-Is-My-Name-O