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Open letter to Southwest Airlines: Wanna get away?
Yeah, I do. I wanna get away from your airline as fast as fucking possible.
With a Southwest Airlines flight looming only 24 hours from now, I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you that I am not printing out my boarding pass so that I can be an A. You can make an announcement at the departing gate if you like and alert the SWA faithful that I don’t have an A, therein preventing people from asking me what group and number I am in (an act I consider to fall somewhere in between Nazi Germany branding Jews and the DMV).
Continue reading Open letter to Southwest Airlines: Wanna get away?
For a good cause. Breast Cancer.
My friend sent this to me this morning due to one of his friends being diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I know some other bloggers that read me could repost, as well as the rest of you taking the time to click:::
The Breast Cancer site is having trouble getting enough people to click on their site daily to meet their quota of donating at least one free mammogram a day to an underprivileged woman. It takes less than a minute to go to their site and click on ‘donating a mammogram’ for free (pink window in the middle).
This doesn’t cost you a thing. Their corporate sponsors/advertisers use the number of daily visits to donate mammograms in exchange for advertising.
Here’s the web site! Pass it along to people you know.
CLICK HERE TO SUPPORT
Finding Barstow: The memoirs of Vegas to Amsterdam.
Dedicated to anyone that has ever taken the time to just stop driving.
It was around noon when Gabe and I arrived in Barstow, California. I have never had any dispositions in regards to Barstow. In fact, I have always maintained incapacity to any suggestions that Barstow was anything other than a desert holy land, a notion unrealized by manic travelers bound unscrupulously by the shallows of their destinations. I have stopped in Barstow many times, just to stare down the service roads and adore the truck stop motels. The world, sans places such as Barstow, is completely dysfunctional: as opposed to mostly dysfunctional. I consider the idea of passing through Barstow inhibited strictly with the cosmetic-flat-line of Vegas or Los Angeles on your mind to be that of criminal. But that’s just how I feel about it, and I don’t make the laws, I am just a simple writer that believes in places such as Barstow. And I am not a criminal. That makes me feel ok about things.
Continue reading Finding Barstow: The memoirs of Vegas to Amsterdam.
Handicap in Hollywood. The Kiss Lounge debacle.
So last Saturday morning, my friend Mark and I are cruising down Santa Monica blvd in route to Mark’s West Hollywood pad. We had big plans that night in Hollywood. I had one of those feelings that everything would be great, which typically is a sure sign that things are going to be total shit. Nevertheless, I call up StevePP and tell him it’s game on time.
“Steve, we need something hot tonight.”
Continue reading Handicap in Hollywood. The Kiss Lounge debacle.
Girl responds to my dating rider with one of her own.
I like to think that my blog touches girls. It’s my Internet penis. Yes, I’m that creepy. Nevertheless, check out this response to my dating rider I found while digging through my referrer links. I think I want to bang this girl now. I feel obsessed.
Only thing, her savvy attempt to get to hang out with me when I go to Hooters doesn’t fly….though the effort deserves some credit.
By the way, the Make Up Artist that signed the afformentioned rider last weekend broke up with me through text message. Yes, I am serious. I didn’t know we were even dating. Shit like this really fucks with my text messaging plan. I’m not made of fucking infinite texting, bitch! When I was talking about “rolling over,” I meant you, not my fucking phone plan. Goddamn!
Facebook is the new black. Add me.
Guys, please stop bringing your Savginas around.
It seems like over the past five or so years, there has been this growing trend of dating “cool chicks.” I am sure you have heard things such as this before:
“Dude, my chick is so cool, she loves watching football with me.”
“Bro, my girl never cares if we go to Hooters.”
“My chick never cares if I watch NFL Sundays, she is so cool she watches it with me!”
Please fuck off with all this.
Continue reading Guys, please stop bringing your Savginas around.
Dating rider and resume.
My friend Penny Flame decided to set me up with her friend, the Make Up Artist. I pre-screened for pictures, turns out she’s hot. And of course, that’s pretty much what I look for in chicks.
Anyways, the past couple of years have been a total dating debacle. I have literally found the worst of the worst. So I have decided to take a new approach to dating, basically, run it like a business.
So this weekend, when Penny and The Makeup Artist showed up, I handed The Makeup Artist the following documents for her to sign.
I really think this is the new way to go. Just put it out there, you know?
Anyways, she signed. And date ensued.
The Death of The Mexican Translator.
The following is inspired by the real events surrounding the Costa Rican International Hostage Crisis of February 23rd, 2006.
In early November of 2005, my friend, whom will be called DH, called me at our company’s Los Angeles offices. He proposed that in February, we rent a cruise ship and take our mutual clients out in the open waters of Costa Rica. He also proposed we have a pirate theme. We ordered a variety of pirate costumes, signed a contract with a 3rd party provider for the boat and transportation to-and-from the boat, and we sent out client invites.
What ended up happening is one of the most bizarre and surreal situations I have ever been a part of. I have waited years to write this.
Dedicated to The Mexican Translator.
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