Apartments Rock

Wednesday, June 17, 2009 0 comments

Back in my wild(er) and crazy(er) days, back before I owned a house and was owned by a wife, child and 2 dogs, we lived in an apartment. Apartments are, as any bachelor worth his salt will testify, gold mines for fun, frivolity and illicit sexual deviance.

It was not uncommon to have friends show up at random with a case of beer, a bag of ice and a deep and somewhat disturbing need to get drunk and stay that way for the course of a 2 or 3 day weekend. My apartment was usually the go-to hotspot for parties. Why? I'm not 100% certain. I'd like to think it was because I'm a good-natured guy who enjoys good times. I'd like to think it was the fact that my apartment had all the amenities to providing good, raucous times.

Honestly, I think it was because no one else felt like cleaning up their own abodes once the party ended. Whatever.

My apartment at the time was a 2-story townhouse style with walls not quite as thick as a piece of cardboard. The neighbors to the next of us apparently weren't aware of this. Their loud sexual trysts would frequently wake my wife and I up at 3 am. Interesting? Sure. Fun? It could lead that way. When you had to get up at 5 am? Ok, not so much.

Regardless, on one such night when a friend came over with a case of beer, we began our ritual of popping the top and turning on some tunes. As we began throwing a game of darts, the front door opened. In walked a couple more friends. Shortly after that, a few more arrived. Eventually, we had 20 people over in a tiny apartment, 1.25 bathrooms that saw a whole helluva lot of use, and enough beer to overserve the 3rd Marine Expeditionary Force.

My wife, concerned by the sheer number of people and the amount of noise that would surely resonate by the rowdy laughter, looked at me. I just shrugged and handed her a beer.

As the night progressed and the BAC's rose, someone came up with the brilliant idea of making a convoy to the adult video store about 3 blocks away.

Ever notice how these ideas always seem great when you're 10-12 beers into the evening?

Yeah, me neither.

We found 3 of the most sober people at the party, handed over car keys and piled into the video store in question 5 minutes later.

For the puritans out there who have never set foot inside an "adult video store", allow me to elaborate a bit on what it's like. First, it's not just videos. Sure, they have some. Quite a lot, actually. For every sexual bent out there. You like the straight missionary porn? Oh yeah, they've got that. Orgies? Yup. One-eyed-ostrich-in-gimp-mask porn? Uh huh.

But they also have...other novelty items. Dildos, vibrators, handcuffs, masks, feathers, swings, lubes, oils, candles...

Basically, if you're looking for something that will get you arrested if used outside of the bedroom, they have it in an "adult video store".

Glancing around the myriad items on display for exorbitant prices, I came across a gem. One I had to have. I found this:

That's right, friends. I bought the penultimate porno. On VHS, no less.

Everyone got a great kick out of it and we piled back into the various cars for the 3 block trip back to my apartment. Some more drinks were made and the party continued in an at least vein semblance of innocence until folks start passing out in some of the most random places.

The following morning, waking with a roaring hangover, I stumbled my way downstairs to view the carnage. Beer bottles were strewn about haphazardly. Someone had brought a Big Mac over and left it, half-eaten, on the arm of the couch. Someone was using that Big Mac as a pillow.

Grumbling (as I'm wont to do when hungover), I kicked a few people awake to help me tidy the place up a bit before my wife woke and began her whole "your friends are neandrathals" routine that's become pretty commonplace over the years.

As my friends and I are filling 6 trash bags full of empty bottles and other assorted waste products, someone else decides to pop in my newly purchased video for kicks. Unfazed, we continue our clean up efforts. As the bags fill and we make our way to the front door in an effort to take the bags to the dumpster, there's a knock on the door. Curious (and since I was right there anyways), I opened it.

Before I continue, I want to take a moment to create the visual effect for you, dear reader. There are three of us standing in line at the door, each of us holding two trash bags clinking and clanking with the ring of empty beer bottles. In the background are a number of people still passed out in various states of undress. And the porno's going on the TV with someone getting buggered in a shower.

Visual effect created? Good.

When I opened the door, standing before me was the apartment manager, Ingrid (a stern, unfriendly German woman), John (the large security manager with an equally unfriendly disposition), and Jose (the...apartment complex gardener. Yeah, I still don't get that one either). Ingrid asked, "Did you guys have a party here last night?"

I took a moment to look around at the scene behind me, the trash bags full of bottles clinking and clanking as I turned. I heard the telltale sounds of "Fuckmefuckmefuckme!" blaring from the television. I saw someone pulling on a pair of pants. I saw someone else digging a Big Mac out of his ear hole.

Turning back to Ingrid, I said as nonchalantly as my hungover state would permit, "No."

Nonplussed, she responded, "Well we received some complaints that you guys were pretty loud last night."

I looked at her one more time and said, "Talk to the folks next door. I think they had a few people over."

Marching past the three, we took our trash to the disposal bins.

I miss my apartment.


Monday, April 21, 2008 0 comments

I waste a LOT of my company's time by searching random sites on the internet. Most of the crap I come across is restricted by the firewall. But sometimes, once in a blue moon, I'll stumble upon some gem. Thus, I found is a site where the dregs of IRC chats can post some of the most inane garbage ever to be considered a form of communication. For example, I give you this posting. Enjoy.

Spoon35: (Random website link to a picture of Kelly Hu that I had to take down because it was pure spyware. You're welcome, readers!)

SenorWeird: who?

Momog: hehe

SenorWeird: who is that?

Momog: kelly hu = the wolverine chick from xmen

SenorWeird: Kelly who?

Spoon35: exactly!

SenorWeird: Kelly Exactly?

Momog: heh

Momog: it's a trap!

SenorWeird: Just tell me the chick's name. It's Kelly what?

Spoon35: Hu.

SenorWeird: ?!

SenorWeird: The chick you just posted a picture of!

Spoon35: Hu

SenorWeird: That's what I wanna know! Kelly who!

Spoon35: exactly!

SenorWeird: So it's Kelly Exactly!

* Marty11 Laughs in the strange confusion

Spoon35: Hu.

SenorWeird: The girl in the picture you posted is Kelly Exactly

Momog: Hu, Kelly.

Momog: HA!

SenorWeird: Yes, Kelly, Momog.

Spoon35: Kelly Momog??

SenorWeird: Kelly Exactly

Momog: doh

SenorWeird: Okay, you know what? Forget this.

SenorWeird: Let's talk about that hot chick in Mulholland Drive and The Ring.

SenorWeird: What's her name?

Momog: who?

SenorWeird: her name

Spoon35: Watts.

SenorWeird: yes, I think my question was quite clear.

Spoon35: Watts.

* Momog covers his ears and screams

SenorWeird: are you not understanding me?

SenorWeird: Who is the chick from The Ring?

Spoon35: I think I understand. you want to know Watts.

SenorWeird: Not What, who. Who is the chick from The Ring.

Spoon35: no, Watts is the chick from the Ring

SenorWeird: Who is?

Spoon35: no, she was in X2

SenorWeird: What?!

Spoon35: exactly.

SenorWeird: Exactly was in X2. okay.

SenorWeird: so then Who was in the ring?

Spoon35: Hu was.SenorWeird: Who was in the ring?

Spoon35: no. Watts was in the Ring. Hu was in X2.

SenorWeird: Exactly. Now, let's get back to the Ring. What's that chick's name?

Spoon35: watts.

SenorWeird: okay, I'm lost.

SenorWeird: What's the name of the chick from X2?

Spoon35: no, Watts is the name of the chick from the

RingSenorWeird: Forget about the ring. I don't want to hear about Who was in the ring.

Spoon35: watts

SenorWeird: Am I not clear? Who was in X2?

Spoon35: yes.

SenorWeird: Yes?

SenorWeird: Yes what?

Spoon35: Yes Hu! No Watts.

SenorWeird: ....

SenorWeird: What?!

Momog: i am logging this and using it as blackmail against you both

SenorWeird: oh, this is either genius or stupidity.

Dear IT Guy

Friday, April 18, 2008 1 comments

Dear IT Guy,

We don't like each other, you and I. You don't like me because I evidently attempt to view improper sites too often. It's honestly not my fault (ok, maybe some of it is, since I'm the one that downloaded the Stumble add-on), but it's Stumble's fault that it stumbles me to some inappropriate-for-work website. I tell it not to do that anymore, if that's any help.

And yes, I realize you folks don't like to be called IT Nazis. Sorry.

But I don't like you either, as I mentioned above. See, if you'd just give me the little bit of help I requested, you could go back to your little hovel and peruse all the gay donkey porn that your geeky little head can take in. I know you bypass all the firewalls you impose upon the rest of us peons, and that's cool. Your position has its privelages, just as mine does. But you've made it abundantly clear to me that I'm not permitted to make any changes to my PC. Even something as simple as swapping out the mouse needs to be done by you or a member of your esteemed IT department. Fine.

My latest request seemed pretty straight forward. I've been working here for 4 years now and have had the same computer the entire time. The files that I design take up a rather large amount of space upon my hard drive and was beginning to cause serious wear and tear, so I requested a new PC with some upgrades. You sent me a website to fill out my request. I did so.

I asked for a new PC on this website, along with a dual-monitor video card, a second monitor and a 120GB external hard drive to hold all of my designed files. Other members of my department asked for and received the same. And they received all of their gear within 1 week of making the request.

Me? Not so lucky.

It took a month. A month, just to receive the PC, minus the video card, second monitor and hard drive. The day after you installed the hard drive, I received a call from our shipping department that a package had arrived for me. This is unusual as I don't typically receive a damn thing here except a hard time. But I went down to shipping. The little Mexican guy handed me a box, told me to sign a paper saying I had received said box, and sent me on my way. Upon arriving at my desk, I opened the box to find a 120GB internal hard drive. I wanted an external one, you know, so I could take it with me when I have to do business travel? This one won't do. Please take it back, use it to store your gay donkey porn and enjoy.

Just yesterday, Mr. IT Guy, you left a message on my voice mail after I had left for the day. You claimed to have my dual-monitor video card. Wonderful! When I called you back and left a message for you stating that I'd be here until 1:30 in the afternoon, I figured you might be able to spare a moment of your time to install it. Alas, you never showed. Instead, when I arrived today, there was another message on my voice mail.

Yes, I was aware that you never said you'd be able to get to it. I have come to the realization that you only tear yourself away from your gay donkey porn when you see fit. Otherwise, you're too busy. But should you be able to facilitate this installation for me, I'd be quite pleased. If you're not able to do it, please just leave the damn card on my desk and allow me to install it myself.

Oh, and don't forget to bring that second monitor, otherwise that video card is no good for me.



We're Not In Kansas Anymore

Thursday, April 17, 2008 0 comments

Sorry for yet another short post. Work. It sucks. But a quick story nonetheless.

My mother-in-law watches my son while the wife and I toil away at our respective jobs. Everyday, I pick my son up, thank my wife's mother, and go home. Yesterday provided some odd scenery.

I got off the freeway near my house. Stopped at a red light, I heard some thumping, hardcore gangsta rap. Not uncommon in my neighborhood. I looked around expecting to see some teenagers or some big burly black man.

Instead, I see two 70 year old white men bobbing their heads in a Buick.

Damn Work!

Wednesday, April 16, 2008 0 comments

Sorry, folks. Got nothing today due to a huge pile of work. So instead, I leave you with this thought of the day.

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