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.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

5 second thoughts

Isn't it ironic how the people who pretend to have a monopoly on morality end up being the sickest fucks?

For real yo. Their hyposcrisy drives normal guys like me insane. I was in the middle of an Estelle Getty and Bea Arthur sandwich when Wolfe Blitzer's mustache broke some new details about the Dennis Hastert and Mark Foley deal.


Thats right.

The same Dennis Hastert who claims the democrats are empowering terrorists by being critical of the clusterfuck in Iraq. And the same Mark Foley who blasted Bill Clinton for his extra marital dealings with Monica Lewinski. Turns out Hastert probably knew of Foley's penchant for young nutsack. And would it really suprise anyone if Foley had inappropriate physical contact with minors? Are we expected to believe in 3 years his affinity for cream of sum young guy hasn't progressed beyond the flirtation and instant messaging?