The Smiths – The Queen is Dead : A Review

I found this record when I was in High School and it’s amazing. Both as a whole and  each song individually.

-Every time I hear the Boy with the Torn in his side, I want to get up on my nine story roof during a thunder storm and scream the ending with Morrissey, while the wind and rain pour on my half opened shirt. Basically Seal in the Kiss from a Rose video, only actually a good song. It’s addicting.

-I know it’s over makes me want to run as fast as I can away from my high school girlfriend of three years who just broke up with me over a text message. I want to not just run, but FUCKING sprint until my heart gives out, because somehow at my 19 years of life, I think that is the only way I will feel better.

-Never Had No One Ever, makes me want to buy the largest bottle of Tito’s Vodka and drink it alone in my bathtub for hours. I want to yell at the wall mirror about all shitty dates I’ve had and all the girls I’ve alienated. I want to keep tipping the bottle back until I pass out in a pool in my own vomit. Losing my job, liver, and dignity all in one song.

-Big Mouth Strikes Again makes me want to make a comic flip book of the feeling that comes over you after saying said something you should’ve and flip it for the entire song. Also I want the book to show snaps of me from when I learned words to today, reminding me off all the shitty times I’ve hurt people with my words.

-Cemetry Gates reminds me of the feeling of every walk home after a great first date. It makes me want to swing around every streetlight pole and heel click over a mud puddle. There will be a homeless man on a corner that I’ll give him my no limit Citi card because, well fuck it, I feel great! What’s money, when you got a feeling like this?

As a whole, this CD makes me want to re-live every man to woman type relationship I’ve ever had in one moment. Essentially a drug that releases three thousand times more dopamine than Heroin. And I want to be so exited to take it, that I stop behind a dumpster and have my body implode on it’s self, near a pile of maggots, spewing fluid from every orifice because it can’t handle all the raw emotion these four guys made.

In short, this album is fucking amazing!

15,552,340 out of 10

Featured Blogs that Get More Views Than Mine: Finding French Charming

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So my homie K-squared gave me a shout out on her blog Finding French Charming  Normally, I’d play along except I have exactly 3 people’s blogs I follow.

…and she’s one of them.

So the whole pay it forward idea is a bit moot, but I’ll play along for the for the “lulz” as the kids would say but only after I thank her my way, with a blog review.

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I’m not entirely sure when I started following Finding French Charming. I’m pretty sure I was getting cozy with some Makers Mark, and saw a beautiful women holding “Mis Amor” posters and liking something I wrote. I clicked over and read the tagline:

Finding true love…. Even after forty.

HOLD

THE

FUCKING

PHONE!

There is no way she is in her forties.

NO WAY!

Sweetheart if you’re over forty, then I have a 14 inch dick. I’ve seen a lot of bull shit on the interwebs but I’m not buying that one. At some point if you could comment your doctor’s name and phone number that would be great. I would love to have a long chat about what I need to be doing upkeep wise.

Anyways, I started reading her story and could instantly relate. Lived in Texas, been on a shit ton of online dates, looking for someone who doesn’t suck. Okay nothing new.

…But wait a minute, she actually found someone? Like found someone, found someone, from the internet? What the fuck?

Holy shit, that is fucking amazing to me! A normal person (at least I assume from your writing), finding that in the crap shoot that is the internet. Wow!

I don’t mainly talk about my background much, especially when it comes to that scene. But If I’m taking stats, They’re probably in the ballpark of something like this:

-Been in the online game for only 3 years, only dated girls I knew in person before that.

-Hundred of dates,

-Age range 18 to 54

-All different backgrounds, races, nationalities, and even a few that didn’t speak English.

-Most of them ended in either sex, drunken make outs, awkward conversations were be  both said fuck it, the girl being crazy or weird and me not pursuing, or the opposite, me acting like a jackass and the girl taking off.

-I’ve probably only been on a handful of second dates, mainly because I was either self loathing around the holidays, she was a good fuck, or I genuinely liked her.

-All and all, I can think of three I would like to see again.

-So at the end of the day, we’re talking a 3% success rate for me (in multiple states mind you) when it comes to some type of actual connection.

So I have to say it again, that shit is fucking amazing to me. I bitch a lot about online dating because it really doesn’t make sense. Let’s judge someone solely based on how they take pictures and how witty their 500 character bio’s can be, and whether or not they are in close proximity to me. It’s like the retarded lottery, except for whatever reason I keep playing, which makes me wonder who’s really the retarded one.

But I digress…

Here’s the thing I dig the most about the K-money’s blog. It’s her tenacity. This journey isn’t all sunshine and roses. Shit happens. Literally. She clogs the toilet the first time she meets her French boyfriend’s mother. She has to deal with douche bag lawyers with fancy drink orders, Micro-manager motorcycle riders, fireman Hoarders, and many more cringe worthy stories in which I’m sure she hasn’t talked about yet.

And through it all, she keeps her head up, and goes forward. I like that. A lot of her writing is humorous, with a “it’s not a big deal” vibe to it. I’m sure she didn’t always feel that way but the fact she can look back and joke to random readers around the world about her life in this way is pretty awesome. I got to say this French Charming sounds like a lucky guy, cause who doesn’t find that sexy?

Overall the blog is an 8 out of 10

If you’re ever bored in the Chicago area, shoot me an email. We’ll grab a drink and trade shitty date stories. I have a good one just off the top of my head, where a bartender rack jacked this girl from OKC that I was convinced was a catfish, at a packed bar Saturday night in Texas. Can’t make that shit up.

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So as promised my two quotes about love:

“Love is all right for those who can handle the psychic overload. It’s like trying to carry a full garbage can on your back over a rushing river of piss.” – Charles Bukowski

“Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go around looking for it, and I think it can be poisonous. I wish that people who are conventionally supposed to love each other would say to each other, when they fight, ‘Please — a little less love, and a little more common decency” – Kurt Vonnegut

Book Review: Bright Lights, Big City – Jay McInerney

I ran through this book in an entire sitting where I couldn’t sleep because I’m a dip shit who won’t buy A/C. Fuck You, I live in a city where winter last 9  months out of the year. I figured the odds were in my favor.

I started with page 1 and almost gave up aster the first paragraph. It’s all in 2nd person.  It’s not that I’m against 2nd person but it sometimes feel too much like someone yelling at me. It’s like writing in all commands all the time. I mean who the fuck am I, some one first year Army Recruit? I can think for myself.

No. I’m a reader. I’m not going to do all the things that the Michael does. Then again, he talks to a punk rock girl with a shaved head at a club when it’s 6:00am. That sounds like me.

You clever fuck you, Jay.

So I kept going. Screw it, it’s 6am , 90 degrees and only going to get hotter.

A hundred pages in I WAS HOOKED!

This man is compensating. The boose, the women, the parties, the coke. We all know it. It’s like a six sense that comes out as you turn the page. I don’t acknowledge it. You don’t acknowledge it. But it’s there and it bothers us.

When he realizes a he loves the girl that he always forgets to buy shit for and she tells him to fuck off, I realized I was this man. My friend Jen will call me tomorrow. She gorgeous, has depth, but unless I’m in a super self loathing mood, I probably won’t give a shit.

The majority of the book is centered around this idea of him and his exe wife Amanda. He remembers all these vivid emotional gems throughout the story. But towards the end he realizes he never really knew Amanda at all. It’s a simple story you can hear in line at Starbucks, but Jay paces it quite masterfully. I found myself realizing it just as Micheal did. Well done.

I won’t give away the ending, but it’s where you lost me Jay. I’ve had my fair share of break ups. Sometimes they end before they begin, but very seldom does anyone just “win” in a big way like that. Sure is the main character living in his own world, you bet your ass he his. Does this lead to everything changing, and him not recognizing it? Damn right. But all that kinda sounds like his fault, not hers.

Things seem to work out a little too perfect for Michael. Plus he gets a little needy to Tad’s sister. Why call her at the end, when it’s in the early am during the week and say a bunch of shit that doesn’t matter because you’re hopped up on Coke? We learned in a previous chapter y’all hit it off. A little bit over kill for me.

Overall, I loved this fucking book.

9 out of 10

The DART Review

I walked past the American Airlines Center my way to train station yesterday. A well edited video played on the giant screen outside showing the wonders of the DART rail system.  It was shot like a dream where these two hipster girls and a black guy (cause they had to hit that quota) run around the city having a blast. They board different trains, go to the record shop, and windup downtown at some rooftop patio. The end says something like, Make your next trip a DART trip!

Now I don’t know how many of you have been to Dallas, but let me tell you something, THE DART IS NOTHING LIKE THIS.

It’s more like you get to the platform and have to pull your shirt over your face to block out all the stale cigarette smoke. The train you’re waiting for is always at the farthest platform, so you have to dodge three incoming trains from both directions just to wait. Along the way, you’ll meet a homeless man named ‘Slick J’ who tries to sell you AA batteries out of a plastic bag. A steal at only two for a dollar.

After you politely decline a few times, the train dings and you get on board. A fare inspector asks you for your ticket because we’re Dallas. We don’t want to copy how NYC or Chi-town collects fares. There systems may have been in place for decades and work but we’d rather pay someone to walk around on the train and hand out $200.00 tickets. So you try to pull up the DART app but it crashed and you get kicked off at the next stop, while they call for backup.

In conclusion, I would definitely make my next trip a DART trip!

7 out of 10

The Neighbor and Shape

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Dear Neighbor at 303,

I believe your name is Hannah, or at least that is who the March issue of Shape is addressed to. Although we’ve never met in person, this magazine was sitting in my mailbox a couple weeks ago. I meant to give it back to you then, but I became enthralled with the issue. Majority of the shit I read is a mixture of bad online dating profiles, technical work shit, and lots of fiction. Needless to say, it was a breath of fresh air when I read the 62 ways to nurture my body and brain. Apparently I already do number 36, so I’m ahead of the game.

Unfortunately, not everything is gold in this zine. On page 28, they say Go Bold with your Tights Game! This is horseshit. Every bimbo at L.A. fitness in the DFW area is doing that right now. Fashion is an expression and they’re saying with that is “I got dressed in the dark and I’m replacing my fashion sense with squat reps.” Don’t be that girl. Nobody likes that girl. Also on page 2, they have a picture of Shay Mitchell from the cover standing in a tall grass field when it’s obvious she just had a Brazilian done before the shoot. Kind of a dick move on the photographer’s part, don’t you think? I would imagine her thighs would be itchy enough without the wind rubbing tiny blades of grass on them. But I’m a guy, so what do I know?

Anyways, I apologize for having this for so long, but technically you’re still getting the March issue in March, so I think your still making out okay.

Sincerely,

Your neighbor at 302.

PS. To answer your lingering question: Yes, I was loaded when I wrote this.

Featured Blogs That Get More Views Than Mine: Life and Dreams of an Unchained Heart

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About a week ago my phone buzzed erratically at 3:30 am. I’d been having trouble sleeping the past couple weeks anyways, due to the slaughter-fest of people getting laid off at my job. I assumed it was L, a girl I’ve been seeing (who is normally awesome but is cruising for a muff punch lately) but to my surprise it was a notification of someone liking my post. Before I could put it back down, the phone vibrated  again and again.

This went on for a half hour straight. Rather than learn how to turn off the notifications on my iPhone, something that should be easy for an Engineer, I decided peek over at her site. It’s the least I could do. Not only did she read every post, but she left a few comments. Kudos. I’m sure she’s aware, this is how Darbis E Cashed likes to give back to the WordPress community. So without further ado.

The first thing I did was read over the comments she left. I was completely dumbfounded! This girl CAN FUCKING WRITE! Holy shit! I think I might be in love. For someone who spent the better part of last Sunday night getting verbally ass raped at a writers critique, it was definitely raised a tired eyebrow. I get excited for these kind of descriptions.

I suppose telling her that you jacked off while waiting for her response probably wouldn’t have gone well, but a pile of cum on the floor is essentially what this woman turned out to be.

Yikes! Harsh. I’m 5’6″ with giant balls and a Napoleon complex to match. I live among Texas amazon women who literally rock a one step per sidewalk square stride. To some of them I physically don’t enter their mind space, probably similar to how the Giant felt about Jack before the whole bean stock incident. I get ignored a lot both online and in person, but yet have never referred to any women as a pile of cum. I don’t know, I guess I’m old fashioned that way.

Clicking over to the About page I learned a lot. She’s a New Yorker (had a hunch from the comment), a total plus in my book. I love east coast people, most honest motherfuckers you’ll ever come across. I’d rather have that than this fake southern hospitality bull shit I’m surrounded by.

To me this girl is living the dream. Has a part time gig. Gets to write all day. Doesn’t have to deal with questions around the coffee pot like “How was your weekend?” when you know Frank from accounting just wants to tell you about his Daughter’s 3rd grade play. The mother fucking dream! But reading further things get interesting.

She’s bipolar and navigating her way through the online dating scene.

…….And now you have all my attention.

I dated a girl who was bi-polar once. At least I think she was, she might of just been crazy. I don’t know, I’m not a doctor. But it was a wild ride to say the least. One moment she would be tearing my clothes off, trying to snap my cock with her pelvis. And a few hours later, she’d be leaving sobbing voice mails about how she had no one in her life and “really needed me to pick up the phone or else I’D COME OVER THERE AND BURN YOUR FUCKING PLACE DOWN!” Naturally I had to let that one go. It was just a bit too much for me. But I will say she was hot. They always are. And I’m willing to bet Ms. Shattered Wishes is not too bad on the eyes either.

In all seriousness, I know how hard dating can be. Shit I’m just starting to get to the big 3-0 and feel like I still have a lot to learn. I’ve dated in damn near 20 of the 50 States from all types of girls on the socioeconomic spectrum, with all types of backgrounds and as anyone can tell, I have a pretty hard time with it. And, well fuck, I’m just polar. I can’t imagine what adding another level of difficultly that on top of that could do.

So I truly mean it when I say, good luck out there Missy. I tip my hat to you. But honestly, I think I’m going to need more of that luck than you do. Your posts read like you have a pretty good head on your shoulders, probably better than mine. If you ever find yourself in Texas let me know, we’ll go on a random online 4 way date and make it really awkward for the other two people.

Thanks for reading my dumb little blog about jerking off to tinder pictures.

Overall: 9/10 Would read again

 

 

 

 

 

Featured Blogs That Get More Views Than Mine: “The Slutty Study”

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My phone dinged with a message that said “Jerri liked your post.”

Now this is nothing new for people who have real blogs with a bunch of followers and gross 500 views a day. But for Darbus E Cashed at Marble Tulips we take this kinda thing seriously. I mean having only your mom read a post where sex with you is compared to sanding a tunnel with a q-tip, kinda makes Christmas dinner a little awkward. Needless to say, I was intrigued.

The blog title grabbed me instantly. I clicked on the link labeled “The Slutty Study” and off I went. Questions formed in my head. Was she a Sorority chick in College, hens the play on words? Or did she bang a bunch of dudes in the name of science, like Trish the Dish from Mall rats? I mean who says the Scientific Method isn’t sexy? Shit the word ‘hypothesis’ just sounds like it’s begging to have an urban dictionary entry dealing with a bunch of plant leaves, petroleum jelly, and a kitty pool full of water.

Upon further digging, the term slut was not used in the ass leaking, ‘Back Door Sluts 9’ way we all know and love. Oh no. It was in the softer definition of the word, like how Molly Shannon from Superstar would’ve use it. A mixture of both raw and elegant like a man giving a light, well timed spanking to his girl at the county fair, forcing other couples to look at their intimacy issues. Basically, a term of liberation. Allowing yourself to go with the flow. Throw caution to the wind. Take life as it comes and feel something for once.

I dove into the “Yoga Guy” series like Harry Potter. I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know about the mysterious 47 year old limber man. Could he touch his toes? I get not being on the digital grid, but the unknown number? Weird. It reminded me about a date back in Halloween with someone I swore was going to be a catfish. Turned out, she literally was just the blonde bimbo that moved home from in Costa Rica a few weeks ago and didn’t have a U.S. number yet. Could’ve fooled me.

But to me the most interesting part is the entire premise of the blog. A sharp, witty, sometimes socially awkward, person moves to a new city to try and navigate there way around this crazy dating world. That sounds very familiar. Shit, that’s basically my first blog and even this one to some degree. I know the journey well, so it’s great it hear it from a different perspective.

Although, what’s up with a Canadian’s using ‘Mississippi’ to count? Like does everyone do that up there? I kinda thought that was an American thing and everyone else used the metric standard, ‘Banana’, for counting seconds.

In conclusion:

At the surface: A blog about dating in this crazy world from a woman’s view point? Awesome

At the depth: A blog about changing your beliefs about who you are and what you think you’re capable of? Truly Awesome!

Even Deeper: A blog with more than 6 followers? That’s Mother Fucking Awesome!

Overall – 9/10 with two strong thumbs ups.

Keep Scribbling homie.

 

-PS. Jerri if you ever find yourself traveling in the Lonestar State and want to trade dating stories with a 28 year old, half successful Engineer that has a bad ass record collection, and dreams of becoming a broke writer, let me know. My brother Jeremy is single.