Posted by todd
Wed, 06 Jul 2005 19:46:00 GMT
AKA: Girls like Cowboys, and seem to believe they come from North Carolina.
So there I was, sitting in downtown San Diego eating sashimi in my cowboy hat and cop sunglasses, looking at all the weirdos running around. After 11 months of being in this new city, suddenly I feel at home.
"Waitaminute" you might say!
A) You aren't a goddamn cowboy, hell you've never even ridden a horse!
B) How can you feel at home there dressed like a damn fool. Or...
C) Where were the rest of the village people?
To all that I say "Neener Neener".
This hat had been acquired from an amazing salesman earlier in the day. I had gone to the mall looking for some new sunglasses, because I lost the normal ones, again... Along the way I met a hat salesman who seemed to know that the beach would be involved in my weekend. His pitch went like this:
"Hey! Check out this hat, it's a great "drinking hat"! Perfect for the beach! Made by Peter Grimm, Bono wears these hats!" Now, it needs to be said that Bono can piss off, but I did need a new dumb hat. Also it fit my gigantic mutant head, so I bought it.
Next stop, sunglasses. The cheap sunglasses joint had a special, 3 pairs for 20 bucks! Unforunately I could only find two that I actually liked, so I got a pair of reflective cop glasses as my third pair.
Now that I looked sufficiently like one of the guys (Rich) from
Big and Rich it was time to hit the town.
You might think that life would be hard for a faux-cowboy walking around a town full of surfers and Porshe owners, but I make this hat WORK! The cute waitress (Yuki) at the sushi joint introduced herself as I was leaving, and then I had a strange woman hitting on me all night at the bar.
Now, I'm dating someone, plus she was *not* my type, but she seemed nice enough so I talked to her most of the evening. Then several drinks later she said something that blew my mind. The heavily overweight, yellow toothed, accountant apparently was making an exception from her strict dating rules to talk to me. I swear, she really said this...
"Normally, I won't even talk to guys in a bar if they are wearing sandals, but you seem fun. Plus I like your Kenneth Cole watch".....
After checking to see that my watch was in fact made by Kenneth Cole, I pointed out that I was in a blues bar dressed like a surfing Texas cop, and did she actually think I cared what she thought of my flip flops?
To drive the point home I told her that I clean up ok, and even wear suits to work quite a bit; but that I don't date bar girls. (Note to the reader: I am perfectly open to dating bar girls.)
She must have been really drunk, because this didn't drive her away. In fact, she took my phone, put her number in it, and told me to call her for dinner sometime!
Ok.. I'm gonna go find the famous shirtless indian & a cop. Gotta go.
Posted in Best Of Bachelor Todd | 9 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Thu, 30 Jun 2005 14:21:00 GMT
Have you ever watched that Jim Carrey movie "Liar Liar"?
Remember the scene where Carrey, the lawyer who cannot lie, gets tricked into going to an executive meeting and proceeds to bash people?
That was me yesterday.
Since a lot of people who read my drivel don't actually know me I'll give some background information first. I have a bad, well documented habit of speaking plainly, especially in a business setting. If we disagree on something, you will know it, even if you are my superior.
Women tell me it's because I'm an Aries.
Also, I'm a smartass.
At any rate, this inevitably either gets me fired, or promoted. I've had it go both ways. This is why I'm starting my own company; I know how to take me.
So yesterday, I wind up in a meeting of the company bigwigs, far and away the lowest person on the totem pole. In fact, I was the only person there that didn't have "Senior", "Vice", or "Chief" in their title. The CEO in particular, is known for being quite.... crass? He has no problems swearing in meetings. In fact, I've heard him say "Fuck you is ok, fuck me is sexual harassment".
I like the guy!
So there's the CEO, doing his thing, pushing hard on this guy who is presenting a business case. The guy presenting was new, and had this sort of weird look on his face as the CEO was questioning him. Finally, CEO guy says "Ok Mike, what is it you are thinking but not saying... Is it "Fuck you John?"".
You know how sometimes Homer Simpson says things outloud that he meant to say to himself?
I said, outloud, "It's a pretty common thought Mike".
Silence.
Silence.
Massive Laughter (luckily including the CEO).
I really didn't mean to say it. Vice Presidents came and high fived me in my office later.
The CEO may try and run me over with a surfboard, again, but hey, I got a zinger!
This is why I don't work for large companies. I would be dead.
Posted in Best Of Bachelor Todd | 3 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Thu, 16 Jun 2005 17:52:00 GMT
(My actual pillowcases)
Laundry has never been my specialty. I admit this.
I have every intention of switching to a wash and fold service as soon as I figure out where the Chinese laundry is around here. Unfortunately for the time being, I am on my own.... You see the result above.
Actually, this one wasn't *entirely* my idea.. but I'll get to that in a moment. First the background.
When it rains it pours, or in this case, when your bed gets covered in cat fur, you light your pillows on fire. (Somehow, my version didn't catch on as well, but feel free to use that saying.) My cat is shedding, a lot, still, and it got to the point that I was starting to get fur balls myself. Combined with the fact that I had female company coming over, and I decided it might be time for some laundry.
I'm bad at laundry.
So I washed all my sheets, pillowcases, bedspread etc... Boy was it hard to stuff all that stuff in there at once! However, I'm very persistent and eventually the washer gave up.
The DRYER on the other hand, had a real attitude problem. Oh it HELD all the things just fine, more easily than the washer in fact. The problem, in my obviously non-dryer-educated opinion, was that the stuff didn't flop around like things normally do in a dryer. Like trying to shake up a snapple before you open it.
At any rate, I had more important things to do, like drink Corona with the girl, so I decided to let the dryer just work it out.
Several beers later, it was time for bed! This is where the problems began. Even as a single guy, I can't sleep on a mattress unless it has *some* form of sheet on it, so I had to go fetch the blankets from the bastard dryer.
It had managed to dry the blankets and sheet just fine, but upon inspection, my pillowcases were still somewhat damp! (Dunh duh dunh!)
In my defense, I didn't come up with the idea for what happened next... and my bachelor senses were actually tingling during the debate... which went like this:
Todd: The pillowcases are still wet.
Chelsea: Eh, just put them in the microwave.
Todd: Brilliant!
Microwave: *smoke* *smolder* *beep*
Actually, the first round went ok. I sat there and watched them spin around, and nothing funny happened. When it was done though, they were quite warm, but still damp. So I kicked it up to "re-heat", and went look out the window at the drunkards stumbling home from the bars. A big fight broke out in the street, which, being a guy, is about the best thing to see happen at 2am. So sheets be damned, get him!
Chelsea noticed the problem first.. "Uh Todd... smoke!"
Smoke indeed.
Well, nothing caught fire, my apartment only sort of smells, and I've learned a valuable lesson. Don't listen to girls, even if the idea is cool.
Any bets on how long I go without pillow cases?
Posted in Girlfriends, Best Of Bachelor Todd | 8 comments | 69 trackbacks
Posted by todd
Tue, 10 May 2005 14:45:00 GMT
As a longtime bachelor I've dated many different types of women.
There is no discrimination based on race, creed, education or social stature. I mean, ugly is ugly, but other than that it's pretty much all on the table. At 30 years old I thought I had met all the major makes and models.
I stand corrected.
I'll call her Ruger. Ruger is a *total* sweetheart, and I could go into a long diatribe about how we met and all that romantic stuff; however this blog isn't about romance, it's about heavy drinking, bad jokes, and in this case extreme personal danger.
With that in mind I'll cut to the chase.
I met Ruger a few days ago through a friend at NuNu's bar. She drinks Tequila with no salt/lime, and I was fairly convinced she could drink me under the table. That being said, I'm a scientific person and therefore the only way to be sure was to test the theory.
After some sushi, sake, and sapporo we wound up back at her place drinking martini's. Now as I have pointed out in the past, the Martini was once a manly drink but has recently been reborn as a fru fru pretty girl drink. However, the ones she made were entirely Ketel One and Bombay Sapphire. She called them "Perfect Martini's".. I call them rocket fuel. At any rate they aren't pink, but you will be if you drink a few of them.
When drinking rocket fuel, it quickly becomes apparent that your driving abilities are probably less than optimal. In fact, your *speaking* abilities are less than optimal, so driving is right out. I soon determined that I wasn't going home, which was fine with me and almost certainly part of her plan... so we went to bed.
Now at this point the story clearly sounds like a win in bachelor land right? Right.
Well, miss bachelorette lives alone in this really neat house that has a great ocean view and therefore lots of big windows. Not exactly the safest place for a single girl, what with all the weirdos in California.
Shortly after getting into bed, I realize that there is something strange under her pillow. Whatever you are thinking it might be, is wrong. Perverts!
What she *did* have there was a 9mm Ruger pistol! It was straight out of a blockbuster movie! (I'm sure you have noticed their large "hot chicks with guns" selection)
Don't get me wrong, I own guns.. Hell, I've even got a 12 gauge under my bed; even so there is still something that strikes me as.....spooky about a woman having a pistol IN HER BED.
Don't overreact here, I wouldn't want you to think badly of me. After I checked the chamber to make sure it was empty and noticed the clip was on the floor, the evening went out with a bang! (nudge, nudge, wink, wink!)
I just need to be very, very nice to this woman.
You may be shocked to know that occasionally I make women, um, well, insanely angry.
I've been punched, slapped, tackled, even had my hair pulled out. Imagine what the angry girls did! However this is the first time that a woman has actually had the means to take me out. To boot, she's ex-military so I'm sure she knows how to aim.
A lesser man would run away, but hey, it's got a bit of Laura Croft going on.
They make very fashionable Kevlar these days anyway.
Posted in Girlfriends, Best Of Bachelor Todd | 5 comments | 70 trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 02 Oct 2004 05:45:00 GMT
UPDATE: Apparently a lot of people get here looking for pics of ex girlfriends. I presume the ones below are really what you want... click for more :) 
But, back to MY story....
Famous/Slightly Crazy Ex-Girlfriends: Lauren.
Or, "The Story of the Stunt Fish"I just talked to an old friend today. This reminded me that I should tell a story about her... Like to hear it? Here it goes.
Lauren was a girl I met in the computer lab (surprising I know). I think she liked me because I would get irritated trying to help her with programming and just write the code for her. I think I liked her because she was freaky and had a nice rack :)
She was also, as it turned out, off her head bonkers fucking crazy. (side note: I still know her and she is still, bonkers fucking crazy.)
I sometimes get flack from people who say I call all girls crazy. I can't help it if a lot of girls are nut jobs, and once you get to know them (Stevie?) you realize I'm right.
It was winter break, and Lauren was going home to Pittsburgh but didn't want to take her zebra fish with her. That seemed fairly understandable, and since I had no plans other than drinking and consuming illicit substances for the next month, I told her I'd watch the fish. Fish are pretty cool with those things handy, in case you were wondering.
It all went smoothly, except that the black light on the cage burned out while she was gone, so I replaced it. Unfortunately I couldn't find another blacklight, so I went with a standard fish light. All was well, and I gave the fish back to her at the end of the month.
The next day I got a phone call that said "I can't fucking believe you would do this". I pondered the various things I had done, but couldn't come up with anything very exciting. My response was something along the lines of "huh?". "You killed my fucking fish, and didn't think I'd notice?!?! They don't even look like the same fish Todd!! I can't believe you would do this and then not have the balls to even tell me!" She always had a way with words.
Lauren was absolutely convinced that I had murdered her fish, and replaced them with STUNT DOUBLES.
Now, anyone who knows me realizes that I'm a bit too laid back to get worried about whacking a few fish. If I killed her fish I probably would have replaced them, but I certainly would not recruit stunt doubles in hopes of getting away with murder. She was very angry. I tried to explain to her that little fish might look different when they were under a white light, instead of a black light, but she was in a rage by this point and was having none of it. I graduated shortly thereafter, with my good name still tarnished.
Lauren is "knocked up" now. (She still has a way with words). All I know is, I'm not babysitting, and that kid is getting some fish for it's birthday.
Posted in Girlfriends, Best Of Bachelor Todd | 10 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Fri, 17 Sep 2004 17:53:15 GMT
Aah, the advances in mobile technology. Since the invention of the telephone, people have said "This talking thing is neat and all, but what good is a phone without pictures?". Finally the craziness has ended.
Ok fine.. the only person to ever say that was almost certainly some japanese marketing executive, but that is why he makes The Big Bucks(tm).
I am a bit of a phone junkie, and I always play with other peoples phones so I can tell you what the cameras are used for. People take pictures of waitresses, pets, and their own head. The picture of their head is usually one of the first pictures they take, and it is always a bad picture(See example above).
I presume the pet pictures are just because pet owners are weird like that. Ever see an
ancient cave drawing? Pet owners.
Finally, the waitresses. This needs a bit more explanation.
There are at least half a dozen waitress pictures on my phone right now. Camera phones are some sort of strange watiress beacon. They love them. "Oh my gosh, is that a camera phone?!?!", they say. Then you take their picture and show it to them, at which point they will say "oh that looks terrible!". It usually does look terrible, because it is a camera, on a phone. Go figure.
Someone with "skills" greater than mine could probably parlay this into a phone number, but why the hell would you want to TALK to someone on a telephone?
Posted in Best Of Bachelor Todd | 2 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Mon, 13 Sep 2004 19:28:14 GMT
Not Really My Kitchen
A few years ago I didn't have dishes.
I lived what I called a "disposable lifestyle". I ate off of paper plates (or out of my dog dish), used plastic forks/knives, and ate things with my hands quite a bit. Aah, the good ole days.
Then I bought a house. This was a huge bachelor mistake and has since been corrected, but it caused some consequences from which I am still recovering. You see, when you buy a house everyone you know comes and visits. When your *parents* come visit and realize you have only one towel and one 47 ounce glass that you drink everything out of, they feel sorry for you and go shopping.
Now mind you, I didn't go shopping... I was quite happy living like a box turtle, who could move himself anywhere in about a day. However shortly after my father came to visit I received a box in the mail that could have contained a large TV (unfortunately it was not). Instead, this box contained everything my father decided I needed, including:
4 Large bath towels.
4 Medium towels of unknown purpose.
4 Washcloths for people who don't understand soap.
1 Shower caddy.
1 Set of knives.
1 Set of dishes. (containing glasses).
1 Set of glasses (not surprisingly, also containing glasses).
Now this was amazingly nice of my father, and very typical of him. When the man gets buying stuff, he doesn't screw around. Unfortunately in doing so he roughly doubled the number of items I owned; most importantly to this story, I now own roughly 45 glasses.
I live alone.
I am also rather lazy when it comes to dishes. This means that if I were conservative, I could go 45 days without doing dishes! Even in a worst case scenerio, 3 glasses per day is plenty, letting me go 15 days before running out! I'm sure you see the problem here.
The picture at the top of this post is not my real kitchen. It is a stunt kitchen. However it represents the state of my apartment every 15 days. I was considering building a small glass block wall, but my landlord may disagree.
Perhaps I'll build a fort.
Posted in Best Of Bachelor Todd | 3 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Fri, 10 Sep 2004 19:45:11 GMT
This was my actual apartment for several weeks.
Introduction:
If you are like me, when you move into a new apartment/house/office/couch it feels a bit like an asylum. (not that I go to those...*nervous laugh*) The white walls, the extreme light caused by functioning lightbulbs everywhere, the cleanliness; it all begins to wear on you pretty quickly. The lightbulb issue will sort itself out after about 600 hours, but to solve this white wall problem action is required.
Things You Need:
1. Alcohol.
2. Pictures,Posters etc...
3. Something to drive nails. For the most fun, you want one of those powder actuated "fastening tools". These things are great! They are basically steel pipes that fire a .22 caliber shell, minus the bullet. They SHOOT NAILS into ANYTHING including concrete, steel, or your foot. In a pinch a frying pan will also work, and is less likely to make you deaf.
4. Nails or nail like substances.
5. Someone to tell you the pictures are crooked.
Now you might be tempted to ask a woman you know to come help you with number 5. I've tried this myself. While it *is* a fairly surefire way to convince a woman to actually step foot in your apartment, you will wind up spending way more time moving pictures around than you had envisioned. Get your buddy to come over instead. He won't give a damn where you put the pictures, and you can always call the girl to come see later.
Installation:
Once you have everything you need, start hammering. I try to put big pictures off by themselves, and bunches of little ones together as if they were bits of a larger picture. In fact, if you want you can just smash a big picture into little bits and hang that. Have your buddy, who is by this point painfully drunk, tell you when they are straight.
Validation:
After you are out of things to hang, step back and look at your creation. Still crooked as hell isn't it? The building must not be level. Drink conspicuously and move the pictures back and forth until you are out of booze. From this point forward deny that the pictures aren't straight.
It still beats white walls.
Posted in Bachelor Guides, Best Of Bachelor Todd | 1 comment | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Wed, 08 Sep 2004 17:26:26 GMT
Overall, starting off in a new town sucks. You don't know anyone, and if you are like me you are constantly making U-Turns. (Ok, so some things don't change once you get settled) However, you also get a chance to be truly anonymous for awhile. It is somewhat liberating knowing that no one knows your name.
Over Labor Day weekend I got lost a lot, sometimes purposely, sometimes while trying to get somewhere. You find the best places that way. I wound up on top of these cliffs in La Jolla where people in
gliders were flying around like giant damn bats. (I will put the hallucinogens down now)... I was seriously considering trying it, but then I remembered I don't really like heights or the idea of strapping anyone to my back who would jump off a cliff for no good reason. So I scratched that plan and walked down the cliff to the beach.
This was Blacks Beach.... Now I'd heard about Blacks, but if you aren't from San Diego let me clue you in... It's a clothing optional beach on one end. I started off on the OTHER end and just hung out for awhile. It wasn't crowded even though it was Labor Day.... this is most likely because you have to walk up and down a freaking CLIFF to get there. Luckily for me, I like cliffs much more than crowds, so I was all set.
Curiosity got the best of me, so I took a walk down towards the nude end of the beach. I think my vision is still somewhat impaired, as I was temporarially blinded by all the people who shouldn't even get naked when they took baths. They should use that dry bath stuff people put on ferrets... nonetheless, they were running around playing volleyball and whatnot. There were a few very good looking women walking around, but the breakdown went about like this: 50% old guys, 30% clearly gay guys, 18% women who may have been hot before they died, and 2% really attractive women. So the verdict is, good place if you really hate tan lines, bad place to pick up a date.
I went back there on Monday and went surfing. This actually went really well because I'm a terrible surfer, and the less people I might impale with the board the better. It is tricky to climb up a big cliff with a 10 foot surfboard though.
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