Career Counseling

One day after work, not too long ago, I popped over to a friend's house to sit a spell and have a refreshment. A grand southern tradition to say the least. Little did I know that I had gone to a career counselor's office instead. It initially didn't start off that way but you better believe that's not how it ended up being.

I was just sitting on the couch trying to enjoy the roast of Bob Saget when my friend John decided it was time for me to get serious about my life. Then a barrage of questions came flying my way. What'd you go to school for? What do you want to do? What's your objective? What does that mean? Why aren't you doing this? Why aren't you doing that? Of course! He must have known that I prefer my Budweiser in a coozy with a heaping helping of shame on account of my living up to being most likely to succeed in Coolidge 2002. Ugh.

Like I said, this happened during Bob's roast which meant I was forced to miss Suzie Essman and Cloris Leachman dole out the insults. I love those bitches. So there I am, sitting there getting schooled on how to be an upstanding career professional and loving every excruciating moment. You have to keep a few things in mind while all of this was taking place. First, he is damn drunk. Secondly, there he was, Charleston's Lee Iaocca, giving me this big lecture on life while he is was in a speedo at 1:30 in the morning.

98 Degrees of Separation

So this past Sunday, some co-workers and I celebrated the departure of Trevor and Tim from the Fuel Family. Naturally, this meant a lot of carousing around town, bar to bar, in a limo while getting into some shenanigans. What is a limo but just a fancy school bus driving over two dozen drunk adults around acting like children. I had no clue the night would led us down Celebrity Lane but Allah must have been smiling down on us.

scene of the crime

Before we shuttled off to the strip club, we made a fateful pit stop at Social Wine Bar on East Bay Street. Upon entering, one of the first people I see was Nick Lachey. (that dude from 98 Degrees with the thinning hair who used to be married to Lane Bryant covergirl Jessica Simpson.) Accompanying Lachey, was current girlfriend Vanessa Manillo who grew up here in the lowcountry. It may have been the champagne or maybe it was the tequila that compelled me to walk over and talk to Vanessa Manilla just as Nick Ass-ey headed off to the pisser. We make small and just before our conversation ends she asks me my name, again, and then rubs the back of my hand to her cheek. That was very sweet and all but who the hell does that? She doesn't know me. I could have had shit on my hands!

whoops!

So I go back to join the others when, to my surprise, Nick Ass-ey comes storming by in a giant huff. Following behind him and his Ohioan cronies were two friends who were, as hip-hop types would say, crunk. Apparently, during their piss break they got into a pissing contest and it was clear that both sides were pissed. In no time flat, there he was, Mr. Chicken-of-the-Sea, angrily posted up outside, cursing, flipping them off & yelling at them to come out. It's no surprise that this city has been ranked #3 for both attractiveness and friendliness by Travel+Leisure Magazine.

Punjabi Phonies or Tandoori Tools?

On February 24, 2009, Indian-American Governor Bobby Jindal of Louisiana delivered the Republican response to President Obama's address to a joint session of Congress. This character burst onto the national scene at the behest of the Republican Party to not come across as just a bunch of crotchedy old white men. They sure picked the right man for the job. His response fell flat and left much to be desired mainly because he has the charisma of a calcified dog turd. Also like a calcified dog turd, Jindal is a good example of when brown pieces of shit turn white. Don't forget his real name is Piyush Amrit Jindal.

Lookin' good Bobby!

Jindal's high school picture

Fast forward it a little more than a year and switch from Louisiana to South Carolina and you have Republican Nikki Haley. Haley is running for governor of South Carolina and by the looks of it will most likely get elected to the state's highest post. Like Jindal, Haley is also Indian-American but unlike Jindal, she is actually pretty interesting if only for the fact that she has been accused of cheating on her husband several times. I totally believe she's stepping out on him. Her husband has the "gay eyes". Needless to say, she's a calcified dog turd too. Her name is Nimrata Randhawa Haley for fuck sake. Just because y'all have a southern accent and white nicknames doesn't make it so. It just makes you wannabes. Way to go Southern Republicans!

He has Bette Davis eyes

Sunday Funday

Only about 20 minutes from Charleston is the quaint barrier island of Isle of Palms, the home of the fabled Budweiser Bikini Bash at the Windjammer. All the elements were there for a good time. Sand, surf and fat girls with butt hats! For those not in the know, butt hats are what most others call tramp stamps. Again, it is just another more appropriate name for the tattoo that rests above a girl's (and gay man's) ass crack. This place had the best of all worlds to offer. I was able to witness two great spectacles that made that 20 minute trip well worth it.

First up, this lovely blonde trash can pictured above. With no name given, all I have to go with is Contestant #2. She had her work cut out for her considering that Contestant #1 had it going on! Not that this bitch isn't pretty in her own right but Contestant #1 had the grapefruit titties, a toned stomach and booty to boot! After Contestant #2 a.k.a My Daddy Don't Love Me Nuff finished tossing her dignity into the ocean by spreading her candy counter out in front of a sea of sausage, she lost. Not only did she lose but she stormed off the stage in tears, cussing and carrying on like some grand injustice had just occurred. It's not as if it was like Bush v. Gore or anything. It was a titty tournament for fuck sake!

The next southern belle to leave a lasting impression also incorporated her breast. Only this time, it was a deliciously fat redneck woman breast feeding her baby in the middle of the bar. What in the hot hell is wrong with people? I want to know at what point did this dumb bitch say to herself that taking her infant into a loud and crowded bar was a good idea. Perhaps it would have been excusable had she taken it elsewhere, like a barn. It was quite the sight to say the least. She had developed an audience of shocked onlookers but only one man had the chutzpah to say something to her. Well, that lactating rhinoceros did not like that one bit. Further proving herself to be a great mother, she chased him out of the bar and threw her drink in his face.

That experience has left me feeling that this summer is about the 3 T's: Titties, Tantrums & Tears.

Southern Living

Overheard at the Roller Derby last month:

My husband said that this is a nice combo of NASCAR and Hooters.

The bitch said it very matter of factly too. Only in the South.