Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Friday, December 08, 2006

yes, I know this is a huge waste of your time

WARNING: The following post is even gayer than this picture:







I've already posted this pic before and it really has nothing to do with what I was intending on writing about, but fuck it... I'm too tired to write much of anything now anyway.

When I first took the above pic I didn't even realize there was a huge statue within the frame of my shot. I initially took this picture because I thought the black guy in the bottom right hand corner was Denzel Washington. Imagine my shock and horror when he turned around and I saw this:



YIKES!!! I have no fucking idea who this guy is, but rest assured he is no Denzel. Judging from the teeth this guy is obviously some ill-conceived hybrid between a beaver and James Brown.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Parts of me will always love NewCootch...

... the penis part, primarily.

Alright, as I arrived for my job 30 minutes late, sat myself behind my work computer and prepared for a busy day of downloading porno, I noticed that I had received an email from my African brother from another mother, Mr. X.

Mr. X sent me a link to a Bristol-Myers Squibb initiative designed to raise funds to fight AIDS / HIV. You visit this site
https://www.lighttounite.org/ and light a cyber candle. My understanding is for each candle lit, Bristol-Myers Squibb will donate $1 to AIDS organizations in the U.S.

So click the link. Light a fucking candle and remember, the sooner we find a cure for AIDS, the sooner we can resume having unprotected sex with multiple partners.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

a bit of part II of whaterver the fuck it was I was writing about

Hey. I just got home about 30 minutes ago and am on the verge of falling asleep for probably the majority of the day. Sterg called at about 2am and asked me to pick him and his girlfriend up from the airport. They went to Mexico for the week for a wedding. After we dropped off his girlfriend at home Sterg told me how this one bartender he befriended in Mexico gave him the ingredients and recipe to make something called Liquid Viagra. "It works on both guys and girls", Sterg kept saying, so it certainly sounds interesting. Although I hope the "works on the girl" part does not include her growing a 6 inch penis. I'll probably write about the Liquid Viagra cuz, like I said, it sounds pretty interesting. Ingredients include a whole bunch of shit you're not supposed to bring over from foreign countries, like tree bark, food products, uncut cocaine...

AAAAhahahahaha, just kidding... there are no food products in the list of ingredients.

Alright, enough of the above. I'm gonna continue with previous account, and just like my love-making, I'm gonna go for as long as until I fall asleep.

Okay. Where the fuck was I? Oh ya. That day was fucking weird cuz as soon as I woke up I had a funny feeling it would be a bad day. Now, I'm not talking about "shit, I just got a $10 parking ticket" type of bad day. I'm talking about "full-out unlubricated ass rape courtesy of Dikembe Motumbo" type of bad day. And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, guess what, motherfucker? Patrick Ewing decides to join the party and challenges Dikembe to a "sword" fight.

Time of event: ASAP

Location: 12 inches inside your asshole.

So I'm stuck in the theatre with Patrick (the guy from the previous post, not Ewing) and to make matters worse, Tera spots us and is making her way over. I hadn't shaved in a couple days, I think I was wearing a shirt I had excersized in the day before, my jeans were probably fuckstained from the time the I was watching The Golden Girls and decided to fuck the crack in between my couch cushions. Basically, what I'm trying to say is I was really in no condition or mood to spend an evening with the fairer sex - especially Tera. You really had no idea where the evening would end up when you rolled with her. You just held on as tight as you could and hoped not to find yourself lost and O.D'ing in a ditch somewhere a few minutes outside of hell.

"Hi Sterg. Hi Mally", Tera greeted and hugged the guys. "Whats going on Hootch", she added giving me the once over and not hiding the look of distaste on her face. Bitch, I thought, last time I saw you I had my dick balls deep in your mouth. How are you gonna play me off like that, now". Anyway, I kept quiet.

Tera looked pretty good tho. I normally dont dig the "super tight jean and t-shirt so snug your diamond cutter nipples are threatening to rip through the fabric" type look. But Tera was pulling it off.



Monday, November 27, 2006

ACK!! I started with a draft of something else, but then said "fuck it" and wrote this instead

After suffering through the cock-punch that was the Indianapolis Colts / Dallas Cowboys football game, a couple sundays ago, I made plans to stay in for the entire week. I was feeling kinda sour cuz I lost a couple hundred bucks by betting on perhaps the ugliest motherfucker in the history of the world, save for Jared from Subway, Peyton Manning.

Now, dont get me wrong, I normally dont mind dropping several hundred dollars during the course of an evening. Although, when I do spend that kind of dough, I usually have the prospects of imminent, crazy-ass, alcohol-fuelled, marathon gorilla sex to take the sting off of the financial burden. However, that evening your mother was not available.

Anyhow, it was Monday, the Christina Milian video was on where she's half naked and dipped in jet black shit, and I was frantically looking for my industrial sized container of vasoline, when Mally called.

Mally: Hey, we're going to the movies. Wanna come?


Hootch: Naw, not really. I was just about to go to bed.

Mally: Come on, you have to come.

Hootch: Why?

Mally: Its just me and Sterg right now. If we end up going to the movies just the two of us we'll look like fags.

The theatre was crowded for a monday. We were there to see Casino Royale. Me and Mally arrived first. Sterg and Patrick came shortly afterward.


Hootch: What the fuck, man. I thought it was gonna be just us three. What's Patrick doing here. I fucking hate him.

Mally: I dunno. Maybe Sterg thought with even the three of us it'd look kinda gay.

Hootch: Three guys going to the movies is not gay. Like, what, we're gonna bust out into a fuckin menage in the theatre?

We all say hello. Patrick wastes no time in telling me he woulda taken the Cowboys in the football game. We sit at a table and talk about The Killers video, SpiderMan 3, playing ball, video games plus a whole buch of other stuff while we wait for our theatre to open. Just as we're standing up, about to get in line, Sterg recognizes someone I didn't feel like dealing with that night:

Sterg: Yo, isn't that Tera (pointing at the far end of the concession stand)?


Mally: I think it is.

Hootch: (knowing it is) No, man. That looks nothing like Tera.

Mally: It is her, man. I can recognise those implants anywhere.

Patrick: You guys know her?!

Sterg: Hootch went out with her a few times.

Patrick: Oh man, Hootch, brother. Can you hook me up? I mean... would you mind?

Hootch: The best way to score with Tera is to walk up to her in the concession line and tell her you have a crystal meth lab in your basement. She might even start blowing you into oblivion before you get a chance to order the nacho combo #2.

Mally: So whats the story, Hootch? Did you ever end up banging her?

Hootch: Who, Tera? A gentleman never kisses and tells, Mally.

Mally: ...

Sterg: ...

Patrick: ...

Hootch: Yeah, we fucked a few times.

Patrick: For real, does she have implants? Cuz I love implants, man.

Sterg: No, Patrick. Shes walking around with a serving tray underneath her shirt. Of course they're implants.

Mally: Its like, she can jerk you off with one hand while setting up a row of shots on her tits with the other.

Hootch: Never was a fan of the implants, yo.

Sterg: Its cuz you love cock.

Hootch: What. I still think I have a hairline fracture of both orbital bones from when Tera was bouncing her tits on either side of my nose... and when was that? Like, fuckin last winter.

Mally: What the fuck is that anyway... that bouncing her tits off your face move that chicks do. Are we supposed to like that? I never know what I'm supposed to do. What do you guys do?

Sterg: Hey, I think Tera saw us.

Sure enough, Tera saw us. She smiled, waved and started making her way over to our group.

Next: part II
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone should check out this painting that LastLife did and has up on her blog. Its, like, the exact opposite of this post, which is to say its not a complete and total waste of your time. She keeps it tight from start to finish and the end product blows my mind everytime I see it. Check it out under her "Woah Colors" entry. http://lastlifeinmyuniverse.blogspot.com/

later skaters,

Hootch

Saturday, November 25, 2006

My Football Team Player Introductions; Part 3

Mally. Mally is a good friend. He has saved my life on a number of occasions. Like the time he tried to kill me, on a bad 'shroom trip, but then changed his mind. Mally is pretty much indestructible. He is about 5'10 and 275 pounds of rock hard muscle. He is like a boulder with legs... if that boulder chain smoked and only ordered drinks by the triple.

I remember once me and Mally got into a fight with two other guys at a night club. I cant remember how the fight got started, but the two guys were now squaring off against us. I was pretty sure I was gonna get my ass kicked, but before I could say "Yeeeeaaaaahhhhh, Booooyyyzzzzz", Mally had broken both guys' noses. That night I was the Flavour Flav to his Chuck D. I was useless, but Mally made me feel like part of the victory.

Anyway, Mally has a sensitive side that I want to show you all. I think the below conversation documents it accordingly. This conversation took place around 10 years ago in Cancun, Mexico. Me, Mally, Sterg and a bunch of other guys went down for the week. Mally and the rest of the other guys went out for the evening. I had tapped out at, something disgraceful like, 10pm cuz I thought I was gonna throw up. I was back in the hotel room, recovering, watching a really shit movie and masturbating to Rosie Perez (no comments on Rosie, please. I was drunk), when I heard the door open and Mally come in.

Hootch: Hey, what are you doing home so early? (said as I'm discretely putting my underwear back on, underneath the bed covers)

Mally: Ahhh, Mally got laid.

Hootch: Yeah?! What was his name?

Mally: Funny.

Hootch: Just kidding. Is she from the resort?

Mally: No, She was from Mexico City (goes into the bathroom)

Hootch: Mexico City?! Whoa.. thats kind of a risky proposition, no? Anyway, I'm sure you were careful. What was her name?

Mally: Mally cant remember exactly. Something weird.

Hootch: And they say true love is dead.

Mally: Mally is gonna be using the bathroom for a bit. Do you have to go before I close the door?

Hootch: No, I'm good.

Mally: Mally is going in. (closes door)

Hootch: Mal, why do you keep referring yourself to in the third person?

Mally: I dunno. Mally didn't really have a good time tonight. Mally is hoping by referring to himself in the 3rd person he will mentally and psychologically disassociate himself from the previous few hours.

Hootch: Why, what happened? Is everything alright in there?

Mally: Yeah...I think so.

Hootch: Whats going on?

Mally: My dick is bleeding.

Hootch: You're dick is bleeding!!

Mally: Yeah, my dick is bleeding.

Hootch: Your dick is bleeding and you think everything is alright?!?!

Mally: Its only bleeding a little.

Hootch: I dont know how to tell you this but your dick bleeding just "a little" is no consolation, my friend.

Mally: Its really not that bad. You wanna see?

Hootch: No. I dont wanna see your bleeding dick.

Mally: (comes out with toilet paper covering his dick. Toilet paper is mostly red from the blood) Whattaya think?

Hootch: Fuck man, what the hell happened?

Mally: I think it started bleeding sometime during sex. I'm not sure tho.

Hootch: Oh, I guess you didn't notice right away cuz the condom was covering the blood?

Mally: I didn't use a condom.

Hootch: What?! You banged a chick from Mexico City and you didn't use a condom?!

Mally: I didn't have the chance. She just jumped on me in her room... I dont think she was really wet, tho. It hurt a little. Then when I started to see a little blood I thought "Wait a second, something may be wrong."

Hootch: Yeah "may be wrong".

Mally: Anyway, I pulled out and my dick was covered in blood. Way more than I thought.

Hootch: So I guess thats when you said "adios bitch" and came here, eh?

Mally: No, then she blew me.

Hootch: She blew you?! But your dick was bleeding.

Mally: She said she wanted to.

Hootch: Yeah but, you could have said "no".

Mally: (shrugs shoulders) Eh. Whattareya gonna do? I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Hootch: (starring at Mally in disbelief)

Mally: By the way, you can finish whacking off to Rosie Perez, I'm going back to the bathroom.

Friday, November 24, 2006

My Favorite Thing to do at Work

At work, I sit beside the high-volume community printer. Being in such close proximity to the printer I see when all the special, client sensitive reports get printed. It normally goes down something like this:

Someone will approach the printer with a stack of official company letterhead. They will remove the plain 8 x 11 paper from its tray and replace it with the previously mentioned company stationary. Right before they close the tray, enabling the printer, they'll make an announcement out loud to the department: "Ok, everyone. I am about to print a really high-profile, super important report on company letterhead. Please refrain from printing any of your work on this printer until I advise otherwise and not a moment earlier. Thank you for your attention and servitude".

This, of course is my cue to open my Internet Explorer, go to Tbone Stallone's blog, click "print" on the tool bar, "number of copies: 500" and "print" again.

The challenge is to accomplish the above before the goof printing the special report has the opportunity to walk back to his desk and print out his own work on the intended letterhead.

The real payoff comes when that same individual walks back to the printer, expecting to see his financial report or project proposal but instead sees "The Pitfalls of Not Murdering Your Ex-Girlfriend" by Tbone Stallone on the company letterhead.

Fucking priceless.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Part 2 in my 10 part series: Football team player introductions

One thing I particularly enjoy about my football team is how tight we are. Sure, from time to time, we have our arguements and disagreements but I know when push comes to shove there is no other group of friends I'd want in my corner. I'm pretty certain, in a time of need, those guys would do anything for me, and I hope they know I'd do anything for them as well. Over the 4 seasons we've played football together, we've developed a bond more akin to being brothers than team-mates. During that time period we've confided in each other and expressed our personal hopes, dreams, fears and insecurities. To tell you the truth, I dont think there is anything about those guys I dont know. And there isn't anything about me those guys aren't aware of either. We share a profound intimacy with each other that I haven't even come close to duplicating in other aspects of my life.

That is why it brings me great pleasure to bring you the 2nd part of my 10 part series "My Football Team Player Introductions". In this istallment I'll introduce you to perhaps the best pure athlete on the team. His name is Adolpho... wait... or is it Alphonso? Shit, I can never remember the dude's name. Anyway, he's the Italian guy on the team... or, hold on... was he Spanish. Regardless he was one of the white dudes on the team... although he does have an affinity for ugly white chicks with enormous asses that black guys seem so fond of, so maybe he was black, just light skinned.

Anyway, me and him were tight. Adolpho/Alphonso possessed a million dollar body built for speed and a 10 cent brain built for maintaining minimal electromagnetic activity. Every single play Adolpho/Alphonso would run the same pattern. Deep. You'd tell him, "Okay, Adolpho/Alphonso, lets run a quick hook. Run 10 yards, turn around, the ball will be right there. Got it?" The answer back was always the same. "Got it. No Problem". So, we break huddle. Line up. The center snaps the ball. The play is drawn up perfectly. The quick hook is wide open. The QB delivers the ball in rhythm. And where is Adolpho/Alphonso? As the ball sails behind him, Adolpho/Alphonso is 75 yards downfield running like fucking Forrest Gump on Ecstasy.

I remember one time in the playoffs Adolpho/Alphonso told us he would not be able to make it to our semi-finals game until the 2nd half. We asked him "why" but his answers were vague and not very forthcoming. "Just because, ok? There is something I have to do. I'll be there for the 2nd half".

The day of the game me and the boys were making the necessary adjustments to our playbook to take into account Adolpho/Alphonso's absence until the 2nd half. We decided to call his home to see if he was still coming to the game. His mom answered the phone:

Us: Hi Mrs____. Is Adolpho/Alphonso there?

His Mom: Oh, hi boys. Adolpho/Alphonso went to Spanish dancing lessons with his girlfriend. Didn't he tell you?

Oh. Ma. Gawd.

Spanish dancing lessons? Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

With the necessary adjustments we started the game minus Adolpho/Alphonso. However, just as he promised, as the 2nd half started Adolpho/Alphonso had arrived. As Adolpho/Aphonso joined the huddle, no one mentioned anything about calling his mother or knowing about his Spanish dancing lessons. No one gave a shit about that now. We had our full squad. We were ready to rumble. All we cared about was winning.

We lined up at scrimmage. Our QB read the opponents defence. He barked out the play "Sylvia Saint 69, Kaylani Lei 22, Sylvia Saint 69, set... HUT!! The play was designed for Adolpho to run a short out, 5, maybe 6 yards. Adolpho/Alphonso took-off 50 yards down the field. Our QB launched the ball. Adolpho/Alphonso caught it in mid stride, laying waste to his defender 20 yards behind him. Touchdown!!

The entire team, in celebration, ran on to the field in the endzone. Adolpho/Alphonso raised his hand in anticipation of receiving congratulatory high-fives. We offered no high-fives though. We completely surrounded him. It looked like we were about to give him a gang initiation beat-down. "what's going on, guys?" Adolpho/Alphonso asked getting a little nervous. Then, all at once, we immediately started Spanish dancing around Adolpho/Alphonso. I tried to remember the words of a Gypsy King song. I couldn't remember shit cuz I hate the fucking Gypsy Kings but I started singing anyway "TUMBALAAAYA, TUMBALAAAYA, o gi chi me ole chi me omi laro michi". I'm pretty sure I got the lyrics dead on.

Adolpho/Alphonso was busted. We all shared a really good laugh that day. We told Adolpho/Alphonso if Spanish dancing lessons were really that important to him then we'd support his decision to split his free time between football and dancing. Adolpho/Alphonso said "yes guys, it really is that important to me".

Then we beat the shit out of him.

Anyway, I'll leave it at that. A little story about my really, really good friend Adolpho/Alphonso who may or may not be black.

Later, homies.

Friday, November 17, 2006

top 10 hot black chicks I'd make the 2ble back beast with

#9 Rihanna

What can I say? Rihanna's physical attributes are proof positive that God does exist. Her mind is also proof that He has a sense of humour as well. However, we are not here to discuss the IQ of one of the music industry's hottest, most successful and exploited mindless fuck machines of recent memory. We are here to discuss her bonage factor.

I remember when I saw Rhianna's first video "Pon De Replay" (translation: I blew half of Def Jam for my contract) , I thought "I need to replenish my supply of jerk-chicken flavoured lube".

But it wasn't until her second video "S.O.S." that Rihanna really became a star in my eyes. It was with that young, fun, summertime video that Rihanna really started to climb the charts of chicks I masterbate to. She had made it all the way to #2, just ahead of #3 Clay Aiken, but not quite enough to usurp Ann Coulter who had been holding down the #1 position ever since the devil gave birth to her.

With Rihanna's third video... I dont even know what to say, yo. I'm rocking a chubby even thinking about it. With Rihanna's third video she reached a level of superstardom few have experienced; a degree of fame and artisitc greatness reserved for the likes of Weird Al Yancovich, Gary Busey, Emilio Estevez and Hall & Oates. Her video "Unfaithful" had me out of my mind. It was like a blow-up, full-out, kung-fu grip, double fisted masturbatory assault on my Higgins, my penis. I was pumping so earnestly I required a constant stream of mazola oil poured on Higgins to prevent him from catching on fire from the enormous friction being generated.

Anyway, I've gone on too long. Rihanna, hands down (and penises up) is in my top 10 hot black chicks list. Book it.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

the top ten black chicks I would perform coitus with

In no particular order, the top 10 black chicks I would perform coitus with:

#10 Ciara

Ciara would make my list even if it was just on the strength of her "Goodies" video. This masterpiece is clearly the artisitc and cultural highmark in hot black chick videos I masturbate to. The way she busts out into the Matrix move then looks at you with that kind of mean snarl as if she's saying "buckle up, whiteboy, I'm about to fuck you into next week" is crazy hot, yo, crazy hot!! This video is good for at least 3 cranks a day, remarkably high when you consider the song is only 3 minutes and 23 seconds long. That works out to a ratio of 1.076 cranks per minute of video footage. A ratio that ventures nearly into porno territory.

Sure there are the nay-sayers out there who attempt to slander Ciara by saying she was born with a penis. But hey, who among us hasn't slept with someone we weren't quite certain of their gender? I know I have. In fact, just the other night I was bumping uglies with someone whose gender was difficult to determine... difficult to determine that is until she introduced herself to me as your mother.

NewCootch once told me "you can tell Ciara was a man. Just look at her hands". I thought, "trust me, you barely functioning retard, her hands are the last thing Ima be thinking of when I'm imagining Ciara sitting on my face grinding her cookie into my yap.

#9 coming shortly

My new project

Courtney Love - Mono
give us brilliant boys we wanna fuck
full of ecstasy, hard drugs and bad luck

I'm thinking about starting a new website where I will offer my services by documenting my sports bets. I'll call it "your_broke_ass.com" or maybe "win_disposable_income_to_procure_handjobs_from_hookers.com". Anyway, something classy like that.

There will be a three tier monthly membership fee for the new gambling website. A gold membership will get you my guarantee "Gold Star Pick of the Week".

Whats the guarantee?

I'm glad you asked. The guarantee is - if my Gold Star pick fails the robots on blogsforbush.com will jack you a soda. Dont be fooled, blogsforbush.com may look like a pro george bush website, but its really just about the biggest vaginas in the world (probably the same thing; you say tomato...)

Ice T - The Girl Tried to Kill Me
She took me to her crib last night, leather and spikes
broke out the rope and the dope strobe light
and started buggin', lighting candles all over the room
then she did a backflip, landed on my dick
I knew that I would be dead soon

A silver membership will buy you my second tier picks. These are the picks I make where I dont really give a shit about what happens in the game, win or lose. I mostly give out these picks to the scum of earth, you know, dog rapists, republicans, guys who spend 1 hour on their hair trying to achieve that messy, spikey hair look.

A bronze membership will purchase you a set of glossy photos of me boning chicks that look like Condaleeza Rice (aka James Brown) and incorporating wrestling moves into our love-making. The pile-driver and camel clutch are my favs. Nothing says "I care for you" quite like throwing Condy across the room after she finishes rim-jobbing you.

Body Count - There Goes The Neighbourhood
There goes the neighbourhoooooooood

Gold Star picks - Nuggets +5.5

Carmelo Anthony, motherfuckers, Carmelo Anthony.

Monday, November 13, 2006

killing time

Clipse - Virginia
Virginia's for lovers, but trust there's hate here
For out-of-towners, who think that they gon' move weight here

8pm ish

Alright. Got about an hour to kill before my ride arrives so I thought I'd listen to some tunes and hammer out some shit here.

First off, I'm thinking about cashing out the gambling account. Before, I told myself if I can get the gambling account up to $1500, I'd cash out and take the boys, for my birthday, to the dirtiest rippers' joint I can find in Toronto. I'd also print up custom made t-shirts for us that'd read "Ima drop $1000 up in this shithole". Half the time I think the t-shirt thing is a really funny idea. The other half not so much. Anyway, I'm sure it'll appear genius once my buddy Johnny Walker joins the party.

At 4:30am I logged on the online bookie website and put half the gambling account ($350 CDN) on the Sabres. I'm clocking the Sabres/Carolina game on the internet and shitting bricks at the same time. Thankfully tho, the Sabres are throwing a beatdown on the 'Canes, 3-0. I gots lucky, I guess. Lucky and stupid, an interesting combination. Lets hope the stupidity wears out before the luck.

Everlast - Black Jesus
They call me white sinner, black martyr,
live wire, fire starter,
jungle brother, red neck cracker,
freak of nature, new world slacker,

Finally the X-Files, season 2, is getting better. They got that fucking alien assassin dude out on the prowl for Mulder and Scully's ass. Good times. I think the season finale ends in a menage with the alien assassin dude and Mulder holding a sword fight in Scully's mouth.

Shiiiiyyyyaaaaat. Buffalo/Carolina 3-2 now. My dreams of a night of unparalleled debauchery hang in the balance.

A friend sent me this link http://www.nbc.com/Deal_or_No_Deal/game/dond.swf to my work e-mail address. Fucking game is addictive, yo!! For real. I cant seem to get more than 15 minutes work done before I find myself clicking the link to play internet Deal or No Deal. Check it out.

15:01 seconds before the hockey game ends. Still 3-2 Buffalo.

Oasis - D'you know what I mean
All my people right here, right now
d'you know what I mean

11 pm ish

On cnn.com I read that Elton John would outlaw religion, or someshit like that (I only read the headline), to prevent prejudice, hatred and non-tolerance. Me and a friend had a similar discussion. My friend argued that the world would be a better place without religion. "Did you know that more wars have been started in the name of religion than any other cause in the history of the world?" OK. I hate that fucking arguement. It makes no sense to me. What? Its like all the douche bags who use their (faulty) concept of "religion" as their excuse to start conflict would all of a sudden be nice guys if religion did not exist? Fuck no. They'd just look for other means to "justify" their hatred.

What I really wanna know is why is Elton John's opinion on religion news-worthy? When did he become an expert on these matters? Maybe CNN should solicit Elton's opinion on topics he is more familiar with like industrial sized turkey basters and gerbils.

Some other stuff I wanted to mention, but cant remember. Sabres ended up winning and I'm using every last shred of restraint I have to prevent myself from logging on to the online bookie and letting it all ride on whatever bet he has going on right now (cock-fights in Karachi, Horseshoes in the Himalayas?)

The voice inside my head is saying "log off the computer, Hootch. Go finish watching season 2 of the X-Files. Or if you are gonna stay on the internet, use it for what its intended for - downloading porno."

later, peoples.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

this week's mission

Monday 7:43am

Alright. My brother from another mother, TBone Stallone, has issued a challenge. He is tired of the festival of mutual hand-jobs that some blogs have become. As a result, he is now out to "terrorize". In his own words "I'm going to hit 10 new blogs a day and make... 10 rude comments on them. I challenge my blog pals to do the same".

Being that I have no free will of my own I will slavishly follow. I plan on hitting the most heartless and soulless blogs I can find and leaving them a personal "how do you do." Right off the bat when I think of the terms "heartless" and "soulless" I think of two things - Republicans and dog shit. I already have a few blogs targeted but if any of you have run into any other douchebag blogs that meet the above criteria (or any other asshole blogs) email me and let me know if you'd like them to feel my toothless bite.


I was initially planning on launching Operation: I May Be Retarded But You Have No Soul, on Sunday night. However plans have changed and I now want to get started closer to Wednesday night.

I'll provide further detail later on as I am running late for work now and I have to leave before they fire my dumb ass.

Later Skaters!

Friday, November 10, 2006

My thoughts on the Artist formally known as the wigger chick on juice - aka Fergie Ferg

Even if she was a war-pig I think I would still dig Fergie's new song. Her mastery and skillful manipulation of the English language in rhyming "conceited" with "eat it" is fucking rad. It brings back memories of me in University studying Keats... if Keats was a smoking hot blonde chick who looked like she only banged black guys.

So, its official. I am going on the record as being a Fergie fan. I am particularly pleased that she decided to soften her image a little and move away from the "super-fit, angry, juice bag chick" look. I think this move will definitely increase her sales... as well as the number of times I masturbate to her on an hourly basis.

Yes, as it turns out, Fergie is firmly entrenched in the #2 spot on my list of "Blonde Singer Chicks I Would Love To Have Anal With". #1 is Gwen Stefani, and #3 is Jesse McCartney.


Last night I lost the St. Lou bet.

Tonight I gots alot of action:

Nashville to beat Detroit (this one pays off like a motherfucker if I win)
Anaheim to beat Calgary
Atlanta +5 to beat my beloved Raps
New Orleans -1.5 to anal rape Portland
Utah Jazz - 2.5 to beat the Celts
and finally Detroit +5 to cover against the Lake Show.

I'm looking forward to going 0 - 6 tonight.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Look Ma, No Thinking!!

Alright. So I was at work today, in the General Manager's private bathroom masturbating over his private toilet seat (because I couldn't find his coffee mug) to the image of me in a menage with Larry King and Wolfe Blitzer's mustache.

I was attempting to decorate the GM's private toilet seat with my spunk like delicious icing around the perimeter of a birthday cake when disaster struck. A particularly clear image of Wolfe Blitzer's mustache framing my asshole entered my mind. I exploded. I sprayed everywhere. I must have tapped into my body's emergency reserve of jizzwad as a seemingly endless stream of the aforementioned jizzwad pulsed through my penis hole. I braced myself and held on to my manhood much like a fireman would hold on to his hose.

As my emergency reserve of jizzwad dwindled, I took a look around and surveyed the surroundings. Before my eyes I could not believe what I saw. On the wall above the toilet, my random hot lobs of ejaculate had created a perfect outline of Andreas Nocioni, a forward for the Chicago Bulls. Was this a sign? Should I take the bulls today +4? Have benevolent gambling deities left me a message through my ejaculate? Probably. But I said "fuck it" with that game and took the St. Louis Blues over Columbus in the hockey game.

By the way, yesterday I went 4 -2 in my pursuit of becoming the world's worse blogger/gambler. My early success will make my inevitable demise all the more heart-wrenching and soul-sucking.

I listened to Beck's old shit all day at work today. It was fucking good.

I like Miracle Whip.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

say it aint so, newcootch

I think me and NewCootch just broke up. First Kevin and Britney, and now me and NewCootch. Whats the world coming to? Here's how it went down:

I invited NewCootch over to my house tonight to just chill. You know, nothing big. My plan for the evening was to keep it relaxed and informal. Watch some tv, play yatzee, maybe some anal.

NewCootch arrived a little early. I was still going over the sports lines for tomorrow's games. I asked her to entertain herself in my tv room while I finished up on the internet upstairs. However, it was impossible to get a moments peace to concentrate with NewCootch in the house.

NewCootch: Hootch, how long are you gonna be?

Hootch: Like, 5 minutes. Okay? Turn on the tv and I'll be down soon.

NewCootch: Hootch?

Hootch: ...

NewCootch: Hootch!!

Hootch: Yes?

NewCootch: Where is the remote... oh never mind its right in front of me. Isn't that funny?

Hootch: Hysterical.

NewCootch: Do you wanna hear something?

Hootch: (mumbles) Not really.


NewCootch: What?

Hootch: When I come down, okay.

NewCootch: My brother is gonna be in the Guinness World Book of Records.

Hootch: ...

NewCootch: Do you wanna know what he's gonna be in it for?

Hootch: ....

NewCootch: Do you know what he's gonna be in it for!!

Hootch: I dunno. Having the world's most annoying sister?

Then it happened. NewCootch snapped... but not in a way you'd expect... not in a way I expected anyway. NewCootch stormed upstairs, walked into my computer room and descended upon my penis like a sex banshee outta my daydreams and with the type of enthusiasm Rosie O'Donnell would ordinarily reserve only for donuts, Selma Hayek and Selma Hayek covered in donuts. For the next 20 minutes NewCootch grinded my penis into a wet, limp submission. She was generating such force on my groin that I'm pretty sure every square inch of my pelvis is now covered in hairline fractures.


After the deed was done and I finished repainting the ceiling with my ejaculate, NewCootch got dressed and just left my house without saying a word. "That was kind of odd" I thought. Then, in the middle of nursing my bruised balls, it struck me. Me and NewCootch just had breakup sex. She had just broke up with me. But before she did she wanted to bang me one last time to forever remind me what I'd be missing - a pain in the ass... and now a pain in the balls as well.

Under the emotional and physical duress of having to deal with newly ruptured testicles and another failed relationship, I managed somehow to find the inner strength required to potentially piss my money away on the following games:

Seattle +7 at Orlando
Charlotte +5.5 at Boston
Utah +3 at NJ
Clips -3 vs Dallas
Detroit +1.5 at Sactown
NY Rangers (-125) over Florida

Its funny, I dont even like some of these games all that much, but what can I say? I'm an idiot. I'll put up my 14 - 9 blogger gambling record in my pursuit of becoming the world's worse blogger/gambler.

what I do when I cant sleep and the x-files dvd I bought sucks ass

Is it politically correct for me to refer to the New Orleans/Oklahoma Hornets as "my niggers"? Thats a tough call. Luckily, I'm a close personal friend of someone infinitely more qualified than me to answer the above question - Rush Limbaugh. He's in my bathroom right now shooting up. I think I'll ask him:

Hootch: Hey Rush. Is it socially acceptable for me to call members of the New Orleans/Oklahoma Hornets as "my niggers"?

Rush: Oh hell yeah. Of course it is. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a lilly-livered member of the socialist media. You cant be afraid to call a spade a spade... to step on some toes, sometimes.

Hootch: Thanks, Rush. Thats what I think also. After all, I'm using the term "my niggers" to denote friendship, a brotherhood. Whats wrong with that, right?

Rush: Oh... ahhh... I think there has been a misunderstanding. You mean you weren't planning on enslaving the members of the New Orleans Hornets?

Hootch: Enslaving them?! Why would I want to do that. Plus they've covered all their games this year so far.

Rush: Ah, yes... well... not even Chris Paul? He seems like a lippy nigger to me. Its not good for the moral fiber of the country.

Hootch: What? I dont even know what you are talking about any more, dude.

Rush: Never mind. Now, pass me that crack pipe. I gotta hit that.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I just noticed the online bookie I make some of my bets with has a blog. On his blog he gives out free sports betting picks. Is that the craziest fucking thing ever. Your bookie giving out sports betting advice?!?!? Classic. The last 2 weeks he went 2 - 5 and he's 11 - 16 overall. Big fucking surprise. Its like saying "yo bookie, I know you have a red hot poker so why dont you go ahead and ram it up my ass as hard as you can while I bend over for you".

Maybe I should see if I can get him to place a link to my blog on his sportsbook site. That'd be fucking gangster. I will not only give out my free picks, but I can also recommend how you spend your winnings - ie: "ok, with the cool hunny we just made by taking the Karachi CrackWhores to beat the Delaware Dirty Sanchez' in that rousing game of Horseshoes, we will now go to the corner of Church and Jarvis in Toronto to negotiate a blowjob. I'm not sure what the going rate is but I'm sure if you promise to share your weed with your whore she may go beyond the call of duty, if not spend the entire fucking night with your miserable ass".

I gotta go see if I can finish off this episode of the x-files. Its the one where Scully was abducted by aliens but she is still remaining a skeptic. Good God, woman. Whats it gonna take!?!?

Friday, November 03, 2006

I'll Take Revenge Fucking for $1000, Alex

Sumuna bitch!! The Knicks have more trouble keeping basketballs out of their basket than Marianne has keeping penises out of her vagina.

Yesterday I had a dream Marianne caught me revenge fucking her fat assed sister. I'd be doing the 700pd sister sidewinder style so I could get in a good bicep workout as I lift and hold her 150 pd leg in the air. Marianne would walk in and see us. She'd cry "Hooootch, I know things have been strained between us but did you really have to go and make love to my sister?" And I'd be like "Sorry, Marianne. I thought it'd make for good blog material..." aaaand apparently judging from the beginning of this blog entry I'd be wrong.

Anyway, a conversation I had yesterday with Sterg:

Hootch: What'd you do last night?

Sterg: Got a phone call from this super hot chick.

Hootch: Was it a wrong number?

Sterg: Fuck off.

Hootch: Haha. I've been sitting on that line for a while.

Sterg: Where'd you get it from?

Hootch: I heard it on Supernatural.

Sterg: Isn't that show for fags?

Hootch: I watch it.

Sterg: So it is for fags.

Hootch: For real, its amazing, yo. I just finished watching season one on dvd. Its fuckin awesome. Each episode is like a little movie its so fucking good, you know?

Sterg: Yeah well, Blade 3 was a movie and that sucked balls.

Hootch: You saw Blade 3?

Sterg: Yeah. Me and Mally rented it. Its shit.

Hootch: I heard that Wesley Snipes is in trouble for back taxes, or something.

Sterg: I think Wesley Snipes is fucking crazy. I think he actually thinks he is Blade... Maybe thats why he doesn't pay any taxes.

Hootch: Yeah, he figures he does enough for society by killing vampires. He doesn't need to do any more by paying his taxes.

Sterg: Hey, I'm almost afraid to ask but have you finally got 'round to doing your taxes for last year?

Hootch: No. Not yet.

Sterg: Well, what are you waiting for, motherfucker. Either start killing some vampires or get that shit taken care of.

Hootch: Yeah, okay. Me, Corey Haim and Corey Feldman are on it.

Sterg: And not to be a prick, or anything, but if you see Jamie Gertz tell her I thought she'd grow up to be hotter.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

The NBA and my Bookie

Well, another NBA season has just kicked off and my balls are already tingling with anticipation and excitement. Despite being a sexy "dark-horse" pick, my beloved Toronto Raptors will end up sucking more balls than Marianne in a room full of talentless wiggers.

My bookie has an over/under regular season wins proposition bet for every team in the league. The Raps over/under number is 38. 38!! Motherfucker, just gimme my money now cuz there is no way the Raps are gonna win anywhere near 38 games.

My bookie has the Denver Nuggets over/under regular season wins proposition bet set at 42. Crazy. Over, motherfuck. When the Nuggets run no one will be able to keep up with them, especially at home.

I'm thinking about taking the Nuggets today +4.5 points over the Clips.

I'm also thinking of revenge fucking Marianne's ugly-assed sister.

Monday, October 30, 2006

Player Introductions and Life Lessons From Football

Since my football season begins in a few weeks I thought I'd introduce you to my team, player by player. I'll start with Nelson.

Nelson is about 5'10, around 160 pounds, fiery in temperment and a raging homosexual. He was on the team for a few years before he finally admitted his affinity for penis. During our first season we actually asked Nelson if he was gay.

Us: Nelson are you, like.....


Nelson: Portuguese?

Us: No. Gay.

Nelson responded in his flaming, lispy voice and a hand to his chest "OMIGAWD!! Guuuuuuys, how could you even think something like that!! I'm not a homosessual." He then walked away wiggling his hips and shaking his ass from side to side. Straight up, Nelson was as gay as they come. But if he did not feel comfortable enough to confide in us his sexual preference (deviance) it was none of our business. It was none of our business that is until he decided to make it part of our touchdown celebration.


Just kidding with the "deviance" bit. I couldn't help myself.

The first game in our second year we were getting smoked. It was only the first half and we were already down by three touchdowns. We were yelling and blaming each other for all sorts of failed plays and miscommunications. It was getting pretty ugly.

Arial: What the fuck guy?! Why weren't you covering your man?

Kenny: What do you mean my man?! We were playing zone.

Arial: We weren't playing zone! We were in man-to-man coverage!!

Kenny: Mally hand-signaled the defensive coverage. One finger means man-to-man. Two fingers mean zone.

Arial: No, Ken. One finger means zone and two fingers means me and Mally double team your mom after the game.

The team was on the verge of imploding. And to add insult to injury, the other team was marching again. It was first and goal. The other team was getting ready to deliver the knockout punch. I took a look at my team mates. We had defeat written all over our faces. The centre snapped the ball. Our defense was fucked again. Half of us were in zone coverage, the other half in man. It looked like an easy touchdown for the other team. The QB delivered the ball. Then, by some miracle of God, their wide receiver slipped and fell down. The ball landed right in the hands of our fastest player, Adolpho. Adolpho ran the interception all the way back for a touchdown.


Now, ordinarily we would celebrate Adolpho's touchdown with great enthusiasm and retardedness. However, the team was still in a pretty foul mood from the all the previous in-fighting. No one seemed really interested in running to the opposite end of the field to congratulate Adolpho. No one but Nelson. Nelson, recognizing that we needed something to pick up our spirits, ran across the entire field to the endzone where Adolpho was still standing by himself, trying to catch his breath. Adolpho raised his hand to give Nelson a hi-five as he arrived. Nelson, ignoring the hand in the air, stood in front of Adolpho, placed both of his hands on either side of Adolpho's hips, dropped to his knees and pretended to felate our winded team mate . The unsuspecting Adolpho tried to run away but Nelson's grip on his hips was too strong. This went on for about 10 seconds... long enough for everyone on the field and in the stands to see Nelson bob his head back and forth inches away from Adolpho's crotch. The rest of the team looked at each other and started laughing. We were forgetting our previous frustrations.

We ended up losing that game but more importantly we rediscovered our friendship, our brotherhood. I guess we all learned an important lesson that day. We learned that Nelson was gay so we kicked him off the team. Adolpho too just in case.

Hootch

ps just joking about the kicking off the team bit. I couldn't help myself.

Friday, October 27, 2006

Footall, Fight Club, and Kick Ass Homo Love Songs

I re-joined the rec football team I played for a few years back. For the most part its pretty fun, but sometimes there can be a bit of in-fighting that gets old pretty quick. We had our first practise yesterday.

On my way to the indoor field where we practise and play, I stopped by the book store and picked up Hunter S. Thompson's "The Rum Diaries" and Chuck Palahniuk's "Choke". The girl at reception was suprisingly super flirty with me. It freaked me out cuz she was pretty. She looked like she was half-white and half-black and had a pretty nice athletic body. In contrast, I hadn't showered yet, hadn't shaved in a week. I was wearing black Nike shorts, a t-shirt whose collar was tearing and an oversized black hooded Public Emeny sweatshirt. She looked like Sweet Mary Sunshine and I looked like the fucking Unibomber.

Bookstore Girl: Ohhhh, awesome!! I've always wanted to read Choke. Have you read Fight Club?

Hootch: No, but its pretty cool how the movie was so popular they decided to make it into a book

Bookstore Girl: ....

Hootch: (mumbles) Sorry, that was dumb.

Bookstore Girl: They'll probably make some of his other books into movies as well.

Hootch: Probably.

Bookstore girl: I've always wanted to read other stuff by Chuck Palahiuk. Just never got around to it, I guess.

Hootch: I know, sometimes its tough to find the time to read, especially when you work in a bookstore.

Bookstore Girl: Alright. Are you being funny with me? Cuz if you are its not working. I let the first dumb joke slide but this is now the second one. I dont know who you think you are... a comedian or something?

Hootch: Jerry fuckin Lewis. Now can I have my books please.

Bookstore girl: Not so fast. You have to make it up to me.

Hootch: Make what up to you?!

Bookstore Girl: Make it up to me for your dumb jokes.

Hootch: I do, eh? What is it that you want me to do?

Bookstore girl: You have to come back when you've finished Choke and report to me how you liked it.

Hootch: Oh, is that all?! Do you want the report to be hand written, also?

BookStore girl: No. You can give it to me orally.

Hootch: Oh, for sure. But do you want the report on Choke hand written?

At practise I saw alot of my friends I haven't seen in quite a while. We did what all good friends do when reunited after a long absence. We started insulting each other.


Kenny (looking at my clothes and poor grooming): Holy fuck, Hootch. When did you become homeless?

Hootch: Around the same time you started giving out blow-jobs.

Arial: Kenny, you've been giving out blow-jobs and you haven't told me?

Kenny: Only to your dad, Arial.

Sammy: Okay, ladies!! Lets do this. Lets do this!! Lets play dis game cuz I am ready to knock someone da fuck out.

Tully: Who invited this guy? Sammy everyone knows you suck shit so stop trying to talk a big game, alright. Now, go get me a coffee, fag.

It was like a scene from an after-school special. Warmed the cockles of my heart to be part of something so touching. I half-expected Barbara Streisand to emerge from the boys locker room singing "Feelings... nothing more than feelings..."

Alright, everybody sing. One time for yo' mind:

Feelings, wo-o-o feelings
Wo-o-o feel you in my arms again

Dont pretend you dont know the words, motherfuckers:

Feelings, Feelings,
Like I never lost you
And feelings like I've never
Have you again in my heart...again

Everyone again, from the top. And this time put a little soul into it:

Feeeeeeeelings,
Wo-wo-wo feeeeeelings....

Monday, October 23, 2006

Insane Scotty and Prince Charles

Me and Matt were pretty much against taking Scott to a hooker. I mean, hookers have it bad enough as it is without having to deal with the likes of Scotty, right? Rick-Soon was adamant though. So, as a compromise me and Matt said we would swing by the hooker's corner and if she was there and if she looked half-way decent we'd give Scott the opportunity if he wanted. Also, we had all agreed that we wouldn't tell Scott that she was a hooker, just some broad off the street that Rick-Soon knew (I had originally toyed with the idea of saying she was Rick-Soon's mom, but I thought things were tense enough as it is between us without me making them more difficult).

Driving by Church and Jarvis:

Rick-Soon: Look there she is. THERE SHE IS!!!

Matt: Who?

Rick-Soon: An old girlfriend from school. The one on the corner beside the lamp-post.

Matt: There are 2 women on the corner.

Hootch: Yeah, which one is she? The one who looks like she's been punched in the face or the other one who looks like Prince Charles?

Rick-Soon: Very funny. She's the one with the shortish, spikey red har.

Matt: Wait a minute. You mean thats not a guy?

Scotty: Man, I thought that was Prince Charles

We high-tailed it from there and got the fuck outta Dodge. Rick-Soon's girl was busted. We ended up taking Scotty to the rippers. We spent about 4 bills on broads and drinks (the broads all for Scotty, the drinks mostly for me) .

Anyway... its late and I dunno what else to say, so I guess I'll say goodnight.

Sunday, October 22, 2006

I dont really have anything to say...

... but when has that ever stopped me before, eh?

Just wanted to document my picks for today so when the world declares the shittiest blogger/gambler in history, I'll be in the running.

I went 2 - 0 last time while high, giving me a mark of 10 - 7. While I dont have any ganja to burn down today, I am planning on seeking an elevated plain of consciousness while demolishing a tub of Mr. Turtles ice cream. Unfortunately, my football picks have already been made as I took the Packers +5 and Denver -4.5 (the packers already won today and I'm presently watching Denver suck huge monster balls). However, while engourging myself on the ice cream, maybe I'll be visited by the spirit of Mr. Turtle. Perhaps he can shed some light on tonight's baseball winner or maybe even some of the proposition bets.

10 minutes later....

Alright, continuing with the theme of gambling while high, I just injected a needleful of the finest, uncut Mr. Turtles ice cream to my pecker. Immediately I was visited by Mr. Turtle. Mr. Turtle likes the under on the proposition bet - Kenny Rogers to throw 95.5 pitches (+105). Mr. Turtle is also digging the payout (+145) for the proposition bet "Jim Edmunds to have more hits+RBI's+runs that Ivan Rodriguez".

this may be my dumbest entry ever... and thats saying something.

later skaters,

Thursday, October 19, 2006

If you dont like my fire, then dont come around, cuz I'm gonna burn one down

With my gambling picks sucking more dick than marianne, I've decided to switch it up a bit. Yesterday, on Lost, John, looking for answers, zipped himself up in a tent and found guidance while burning down a blunt. Today, I did the same... more or less. I locked myself in my garage and smoked some of the shittiest weed $20 can buy. The purpose of this exercise in fucking retardedness is to find tonight's winners. With my Kreskin-like 8 - 7 mark on the line, I declare the Cardinals and the Pittsburg Penguins my stoner picks of the day. Suprising? Yes, even to myself as I had intended to drop a bill on the Mets, but the weed has spoken and it likes St. Lou and Pitt, so we will see what happens.

On to yesterday's business. We took Scott out. It was me, Matt, Ik-Soon and the guest of honour, Scotty. Before I go on any further I should mention that I hate Ik-Soon. Its, like, he's always 100 mph and talks way too fucking much for someone who knows nothing.

A few months ago Ik-Soon sent an e-mail asking everyone in the office to start calling him "Rick". He didn't like the name "Ik-Soon" so much and prefered a more North American handle. Ever since that day I publically dubbed Ik-Soon, Rick-Soon. Needless to say he fucking hates me too.

Anyway, going on with the account: Matt and Rick-Soon arrived at my house about an hour before we were to pick up Scott.

Matt: Any ideas where to take Scott?

Hootch: We can always go to the rippers if we want.

Rick-Soon: I know this girl, for a bit of cash she'll show Scotty a nice time.

Matt: Sounds good. Where does she work?

Rick-Soon: Church and Jarvis.

Hootch: Church and Jarvis? Whats the name of the club?

Rick-Soon: She doesn't really work out of a club. She's more self-employed.

Matt: How will we meet her then. Do we have to make an appointment, or something?

Rick-Soon: She doesn't really take appointments. If we just drive by the corner of Church and Jarvis I'm sure we'll see her there.

Matt: What? The corner? You wanna set Scott up with a hooker?!?

Hootch: I dont know if I am comfortable with getting Scott a hooker. Think of the health implications.

Matt: Yeah, I know. What happens if Scott contracts a disease?

Hootch: Actually I was more concerned for the health of the hooker.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

five bills on the line and maybe a handjob for Scott

There is this kinda insane guy at my work. His name is Scott. As recently as a few months ago Scott's insanity wasn't all that noticable. It was a woman who pushed him over the edge. Her name is Antoinette. Antoinette is this pretty good looking, pretty cool phillipino chick.

Somehow Scott got the impression that he and Antoinette were boyfriend and girlfriend. I'm not exactly certain how Scott came to this conclusion. He and Antoinette never went out anywhere together, they were not friends outside of work, they did not even know each other all that well. As far as I understand, from Antoinette, the extent of their communication with each other was when they'd say hello or good morning to each other as they entered the office. However, apparently this was enough to convince Scott that they were intertwined, soulmates, destined to be together.

One day, out of concern for his growing delusions, Antoinette politely informed Scott that she valued their professional relationship but did not want to be regarded as his girlfriend. Scotty went apeshit. From then on whenever Antoinette would say "hello" or speak with any other male member of the staff, Scott would make a scene and accuse her of being unfaithful. Its really pretty fucking bezerk.

Anyway, I want to do what I can to help Scott. Its pretty obvious he is on the verge of getting fired. Tonight, me and some of the guys at work are taking Scott out on a "lets get Scott laid, or at the very least a handjob" outing. I think Dr Phil is an advocate of this type of therapy.

Anyway, speaking of insanity, I got 5 games on the go tonight:

Rangers (-120) to beat Nashville
Toronto (-155) to beat Colorado
Chicago (-110) to beat montreal
The chicago/montreal game to go over 5 (-120)
Minnesota (-135) to beat the kings

work, daydreams, ninja chicks and office trollops

Like so many relationships, another promising start down the drain. Chalk another one up in the loss column, ma. 6 - 4 now with 3 of those loses coming in a row.

Yesterday, I mentioned was my first time back at work after a 3 week hiatus. Gotdamn I forgot how good the anime girl looked. From a distance she looks pixie sized and about 50 pounds (generally, not a good look). But up close she is way taller than you'd expect and pretty muscular too. Her arms and legs are pretty thick for her size and have nice cuts and definition to them. The only possible explanation... the anime girl is a ninja. Either that or she is an alien, cuz no human being can possibly look so good. I imagine the inhabitants of the anime girl's home planet all look like insanely hot asian chicks who dig hairy assed greek dudes with crappy blogs, too much free time on their hands and no direction in their life.

Yesterday we had bowling night at work. I dunno why but I thought of making a play for the office trollop. I'm pretty sure I could bang her with minimal effort and minimal conversation. Several related daydreams were playing themselves out in my head while I was supposed to be working, in the morning. In my daydream, I'd approach the office trollop, as she was assessing and feeling out the bowling balls, and hit her with any number of remarkably smooth and classy lines - "you know, if you play your cards right, those dont have to be the biggest balls you get your hands on tonight".

I'd alternate between the above daydream and the one where I was an intergalactic space explorer who crash landed on an uncharted planet where all the inhabitants looked like super hot asian ninja chicks.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

goose egg

my downward spiral into the gambling abyss has started. Sunday I went goose-egg for two on my hockey picks dropping my record to 6 - 3. Tonight, I gotsta take da blues (-120) over the coyotes.

I went back to work today after a 3 week hiatus. Went better than expected but still not as good as staying at home watching re-runs of McGyver in my underwear. Occaisionally, I'd switch it up, while at home, flip it to the music channel and crank one off to whatever hot black chick the music industry is presently trying to exploit. Video ho, female rapper or R n' B singer - whomever. I'm an equal opportunity asswipe.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

another undeserving win, more bets, drinking tonight, and a walk for cancer tomorrow

I'm regretting polishing off the mountain of spicey chicken wings this afternoon as I've been shitting fire ever since. But not regretting taking the Argos to beat the Montreal Alouettes in Canadian Football earlier today. Record so far is 6 - 1. My good start will make my inevitable string of consecutive loses all the more difficult to bear, but for now the good times are rolling.

I have a couple hockey games tonight. I've decided to roll the dice and go with a couple of visitors for this evening's action. I wont be suprised if both my selections lose, but they offer enough of a payout for me to take a chance.

I have Florida (+140) to beat Tampa Bay.

I gots Chicago (+115) to dummy St. Louis.

I'm supposed to go out later this evening to grab a couple drinks with a few friends. I'm debating weather to get shit-faced or not. They are supposed to pick me up at 9 and I haven't even shaved or even showered yet. Fuck it, maybe I wont shave. The Grizzly Adams look is coming back in fashion, right? Now only if the hairy ass look would catch on I'd really be sitting pretty.

Tomorrow I volunteered to participate in some charity walk for cancer. I have to be downtown at 7:30 am. That can be kinda tricky. I dont think the organisers of the charity walk will appreciate me showing up for their event hammered.

Gotsta go.

Later skaters.

an asshole of the highest order

I went 3 - 1 with my bets yesterday. Not too bad a start, 5 - 1 overall. I'm still under no delusions that I will make any money betting sports in the long run. I still expect to lose all the money I had allocated to sports betting within the next month or so, especially if I continue to bet everyday. Betting everyday, just for the sake of betting or just to make whatever game you're watching on tv more interesting is the biggest "no-no" in the "profession" of sports gambling

With the above being said, this afternoon I plan on watching some Canadian Football while devouring a mountain of chicken wings. I will take the Toronto Argonauts to beat the Edmonton Eskimos in a pick'em game.

Last night I went to the rippers. As I pulled into the parking lot I saw Tera outside on a smoke break. She ran up to my car. I unlocked the passenger's door and she came in. We talked for a little.


Tera: Looked what thet cat dragged in.

Hootch: Hey, Tera. How is it in there, tonight.

Tera: Its fucking dead. We should leave.

Hootch: Where should we go?

Tera: Lets go to the movies... or to my house and get some food.

Hootch: Lets go to the movies. I've started working out again and I'm trying not too eat anything after 8pm

Tera: Oh ya? Have you lost any weight yet?

Hootch: Ya, man. I've lost like almost 30 pounds.

Tera: Really?! Cuz it looks like you haven't really lost anything.

Hootch: Fuck off.

Tera: Haha. I have a little weed we can smoke if you want later on.

Hootch: Maybe. I can give you some money for the weed.

Tera: Its alright. I dont hafta pay for my weed.

Hootch: Oh ya. Its nice that your dealer gives you the option of fucking him for your drugs.

Tera: You're not funny.

Friday, October 13, 2006

more bets and prospects of sex

I got 4 more bets in today with the online bookie.

I got Kenny Rogers, the gambler, and Detroit to beat the A's. I fucking hate Kenny Rogers (the pitcher) but it was too good a deal, at -125, to pass him up at home.

I have Atlanta Thrashers (-140) to beat Carolina.

I have Bufallo to beat the Red Wings. Worth a shot at +125.

And lastly I have Florida (-130) over Tampa Bay.

I'm also thinking about taking some Canadian Football action and maybe even the baseball game tonight. We'll see.

I called Marianne early this afternoon. I left a message on her machine. I think she worked yesterday so I wasn't really expecting her to pick up. The earliest she'll wake up is 3pm when she works the night before. Anyway, I was pretty much an asshole on the phone. I told her I was gonna swing by her club tonight and asked her not to come by my table cuz I dont wanna deal with the drama or the bullshit. I also asked her to tell the other girls she works with that I may drop a G at the club tonight. Of course my message was code for "Marianne, listen bitch, I want you to beg for forgiveness and recognise that I'm a million times better than your fucking fag, wigger "boyfriend" who you're supporting while he tries to get his music career off the ground. He makes Vanilla Ice look like the incredible rhyme animal, Chuck D".

Ha. Marianne is trying to return my call. I haven't picked up yet. She's called 3 times in the past 5 minutes. She's left one message so far. "Hey Mister. You're not funny. Why do you have to be like that. Why do you have to believe what everyone tells you. I dont have a boyfriend, alright. All I have is my mom and my sisters. I dont even have any friends, okay. Everyone at work here hates me so I dont even know why you are tripping like that and being so rude. I dont care, I've known you longer than any of the other girls. If you come by tonight we're spending time together like we did before, so dont even try to go with anyone else...."

Should be interesting tonight. Sex is probably not even a remote possibility, but I stuck it in the title of my post because it kinda rhymes with bets.

There was some other stuff I wanted to say, and I guess I really should spell check this shit, but I gotta go watch the baseball game.

Later.

Friday, October 06, 2006

Raise your hand if you've slept with Tera and Marianne

Last week, through no doing of my own, I came into a little money. Not enough for me to retire, but a sizeable enough sum for me to fuck around and bankroll my vices for at least a year or so. We're talking loose women, drinking, smoking, betting and gambling... plus probably a few others I haven't thought of.

Anyway, from now on, on this blog, I will document exactly how I piss away my money.

This evening I openned up an online sportsbook account. I already have a couple of bets in.

(1) Chicago Blackhawks to beat whoever the fuck they're playing (Nashville, I think) +120

(2) Baseball proposition bet - Tom Glavine to throw under 95.5 pitches -110

I am under no delusions regarding my sports betting. 99.999% of everyone who bets loses money in the longrun. Anyone who tells you otherwise is fucking lying. Still, its fun and should provide some good times and stories. I'm taking da boys out tonight so we can watch the games... maybe take them to the rippers afterward...or not, I'm kinda tired today. Have been up the previous 72 hours working my way through the dvd's I bought on Monday.

Dawson's Creek (season 6): pretty much sucks. As soon as Dawson and Pacey became self-confident yuppies with all the answers the show lost its edge.

Gilmore Girls (season 5... or 6, I cant remember now; anyway its the most recent dvd) started off slow but pretty fucking great overall.

Supernatural (season 1): Good fucking show with some interesting directing and camera angles. Some episodes made me shit my pants. Writing is way better than expected also.

X Files (season 1): Pretty good. Nothing against him, but I still think David Duchovny is a really shit actor and I will never understand the sex appeal of Gillian Anderson.

ChinaTown: Haven't got around to it yet. Still cant believe how good looking Faye Dunnaway looked in Bonnie and Clyde.

X-Men I - III - All fucking good.