6.30.2003

one more thing...

yesterday at la tapatia, my baby cousin HAD to go to the bathroom. she wouldn't go in her diaper like she normaly does, talk about shitty (literally!) timing. the memory of the fetid atmosphere of the men's restroom was still fresh in me from having ventured there to wash my hands before the meal was served. being the considerate dude that I am,for her still developing brain's sake, I decided to spare as many of her brain cells as possible. so I asked a waitress if it was okay if I took her to the women's restroom if the coast was clear. of course, pressuming that a woman's restroom was exponentially cleaner. she gave me the go ahead.

by this time, my cousin was ready to blow, so I rushed her to the first stall stat! she took care of her bidness pretty quick, but then this overpowering stench almost knocked me on my ass. my eyes started watering, I was experiencing shortness of breath, my life started to flash before my eyes. it couldn't have possibly come from such a little thing, no. and it didn't. I looked over into the next stall and there I saw the most a w e s o m e gastrointestinal trophy ever.

the sight of which made me wonder: what kind of woman waits until they are out in the street to destroy a public toilet bowl with the foulest deposits of poo ever seen in modern times?

whooooo are these people?
jerry seinfeld

Posted by Stan at 6/30/2003 |

6.29.2003

words are due...

today I rolled out of the rack in time to talk my mom and my cousin into treating me to a meal at thelma's bbq. it was closed. I decided the time had come to finally introduce my mother to the greatness that is la tapatia. I proceeded to eat enough tacos to choke a moderately sized walrus while trying to don my best 'hey, I'm not a total asshole' face as my mom broke down into tears every five minutes, or however long it took me to drain the contents of a bottle of corona. a few weeks ago she saw me 'in rare form', the shock of seeing her oldest baby boy puking his guts out really impacted her, so she's not exactly at the peak of her mental game. I can't say I blame her. if I finally am able to undress britney to find that she's laden with 3 spare tires, I'd probably choke up a lot too.

the death of a dream is a motherfucker.

the events of the rest of my day have flowed slower than urine moving down bob dole's narrow urethra, so I won't burden you with details. I did, however got the low down on alison's 'sex toy party' adventure. and damn it, now I want to host one. no dudes allowed!

there has to be more to life than being really, really, really, really good looking,
derek zoolander

Posted by Stan at 6/29/2003 |

6.26.2003

how's this for a commercial?

I am a 20-something, very disease free, virile mass of man-meat. I have no shame and I hardly ever bathe. my mind is playing tricks on me for not sleeping last night. I am an army of one.

am I truly going through some 'asshole' phase? I'm noticed that I don't call girls as often as I used to. I no longer bend over backwards for them, I even make them pay for their meals and demand that they buy ME drinks at the bar. I like it. some women may think that I'm becoming more jaded, I say that I'm showing maturity, a sense of discrimination as it applies to the finer things of life, and respect for the woman. or simply I'm not willing to jump through hoops to have a shot at the poon. at least some random strange at the bar that is marginal, at best.

sometimes its too easy. or am I an adrenaline junkie who is always seeking a challenge? h-town is not as dry of a city as I perceived it to be, it is just not full of 'star wars' caliber type of girls for me.

I was sitting in front of the tv this morning and I began to wonder why you don't see more hawks in the city. I would think urban squirrels and alley cats would be a pretty easy meal.

love,
the gourmand raptor

Posted by Stan at 6/26/2003 |

6.25.2003

apparently...

I'm cooler than the ice in my bourbon.

that's levitation for you, holmes!
flash wonderboy

Posted by Stan at 6/25/2003 |

6.24.2003

countdown

sixty-nine days 'til the horns begin their championship run.

he he he...

enjoy

Posted by Stan at 6/24/2003 |

6.23.2003

it took her this long to figure it out?

I have a pavlovian response to the sight of a thong.

...and it doesn't involve salivating either.

Posted by Stan at 6/23/2003 |

6.21.2003

seven strangers picked to live in a house...

the time of the year has come again in which mtv regales us with their latest installment of their reality docu-drama: the real world. for the many haters out there who think this show is a tired, canned bit I'm going to save you the trouble by giving you a cliff notes' version of the upcoming season.

leah: every once in a while mtv likes to kick it up a notch by casting a wild card that they think might cause a ruckus. these are usually crazy assed women. she is it. she is like a dianne warren codependency song personified.

simon: did mtv not learn anything from last season? I believe they actually moved in the right direction by not casting any homos in vegas. here's to always taking two steps back, he looks like an extra from oliver twist. so far, I don't hate him, but it's early in the season.

ace: he's a cool cat, I have to give the nod to the guy from the dirty south. he and I are so much alike -- although I don't have his same parochial views. only problem I have with him is that he's already chosen his wife/life parnter. huh? ask all the other rwers how their pre-show relationships fared. also, props on the trunk full of hats, especially that viking hellllmoot which doubles as a crotch guard when streaking from le hot tub to the house. I hate how he got dragged into the fight, simply because all the girls want him. personally, I wouldn't hook up with any of my marginal looking females in the house, when there are all sorts of french skirts that need a lesson in history.

adam: is this guy for real? he looks like that monkey that produces howard stern's show. what a motherfucking ass. unless he gets a face transplant, I don't see his ugly wretchedness getting near anyone or anything remotely hot. what a tool. and his 'songs' stink more than a sack full of assholes. hey, I wrote a song about him. like to hear it? here it goes:
I wouldn't not refuse to pass
on an opportunity to kick his ass

mallory: shock and horror! she's a party animal with an intact hymen. hmm, wonder if she plays the same mean game of 'anything but' that my estranged female friend who shall-remain-nameless played? I predic(k)t she's going to get her cherry popped by georgia.

chris: what a liam gallagher wannabe freak. and lose the shades indoors look -- you are not matthew mccaughnehey, dude. hell, lose that ski cap because you are not even that cakeboy ashlee from o-town.

christina: she's vegas cocktail waitress, but very quick to point out that she's not a stripper. hooker, I bet you end up doing it in the hot tub with chris by episode 6...or 9.

can anyone not love this shit? total psycho house. my stomach is hurting.

Posted by Stan at 6/21/2003 |

6.20.2003

going straight to hell...

yesterday found me entrenched deep inside the hostile confines of my neighborhood dps office. I was there to pick up the neccessary form to have my stellar driving record mailed to me, for the purpose of having a speeding ticket expunged from my record. I was two or three people behind this absolute bunny, who was there to renew her vertical license (the ones they issue to under-agers in the lone star state). I couldn't help staring at her, and her mom caught me looking. but that wasn't the most embarrasing thing about this episode.

I checked out her mom and I was immediately drawn to her. her stately poise, and her mature confidence made her daughter's physique be a candle to her sun. I kept looking, I couldn't help myself, and she knew it too. I think she was digging the attention. and as the seconds ticked by a tiny voice inside my head kept tellng me that she looked familiar. the twin cray supercomputers that power my brain were churning as fast as they could through the annals of stan, searching for any record of this fine woman sitting 10 feet in front of me. and when her daughter made it to the front of the line and pulled out proof of a social security number, I was able to peek at her last name...'reese' it was then when it hit me...she was my 7th grade science teacher's daughter! and I was hot for teacher.

when satan makes the case that I deserve eternal damnation in the fires of hell, the fact that I blatantly eye fucked my old science teacher is going to be exhibit a.

god damn, I said god damn.

Posted by Stan at 6/20/2003 |

6.19.2003

back in the game?!

could it be? after swearing women off as a species, this one filly has managed to thrash and buck the hardest in the deepest corral of my heart. but now I'm faced with a terrible, terrible dilemma.

after days of admiring her from afar, I have finally gotten the guts to ask one of my neighbor's daughters out. she has a radiant smile and buttocks that look like two perfectly round hard-boiled eggs pressed together. to my amazement, she has accepted my offer to watch a movie.

this is my O N E CHANCE to make a good impression on her. my plan is for a viewing of a romantic movie ('bend it like beckham') followed by a tour of my facilities. for this occasion I have recently bought a trophy case and my plan is to show her my vast achievements in the hopes that this will cause her to disrobe fully. the problem is that I currently have no merits of my own. none. this is where YOU, reader, come in. can you please make for me the following, or direct me towards a purveour, trophies:

congressional medal of honor
the fields medal
nobel peace prize
academy award
houston livestock show and rodeo, grand champion steer 1995
freestyle panfry international - grade a champion, omelet division
austin kiss-a-thon - 1st place (plaque)
yankee racers - 2nd place
purple heart of valor (flanked by pink heart, yellow moon, orange star, green clover, blue diamond, and purple horseshoe...the are magically delicious)
montgomery c. burns award of achievement in the field of excellence.

Posted by Stan at 6/19/2003 |

the juggernaut that is '20,000 girls out of my league'

this is a possible casting roster for my upcoming bio-epic motion picture

nikki hilton as angie n. m.
jennifer aniston as sarah n. k.
beverley mitchell as kelley m. w.
jennifer garner as kate
elizabeth shue as christy my architecture t.a.
natasha henstridge as meredith l. h.
amanda bynes as ruth a. r.
kathryn from road rules maximum velocity as monica i. f.
amy smart as kim b. j.
eliza dushku as krista m. m.
cameron diaz as erin m. c.

the producer



Posted by Stan at 6/19/2003 |

6.17.2003

act I, part 2

so, here's the second part of the screenplay tease. hopefully it doesn't eat too much ass, because it's my first stab at one. it's probably the last of it I'll post here, as I'm attempting to keep it underwraps until I can find a sucker to buy it. don't worry, I'll still be posting stories about my hijinks here regularly. I just want something where I don't have to use my nomme de guerre so I can acheieve my goal of being the most famousest person on the face of the erf



...she resurfaced again in my life a few months later when, as a 20-year old sophomore recently out for summer vacation , she called me out of the blue and invited me out to lunch. aha! I thought. this could be interesting. instead of that drunk that layed on the floor wallowing in sorry over the pains of getting over ruther, I was now a full-fledged golf hack and a member of the bobalu cigar bar, sixth street's premier watering whole for under agers. I assumed she remember by major, the tomes adorning my book shelf, and my ut connections and wanted some summer job advice. perhaps I would get to see her naked after all.

my hopes were soon dashed she confessed that she'd been ordered to invite out to lunch by her mother so that I could perhaps help her grandfather's business expand to mexico. mexico?! my father hadn't so much as sniffed veracruz in the past 5 years, and the company that he had rescued from the claws of bankruptcy was now in bed with tuboscope, and it eventually slutted itself out to tenaris two years ago. what ever connections I could have had were now 'non-players'. I was now completely useless to her. what could be more humiliating? all the lust I'd felt of her months earlier came flooding back, but this time I was determined to do something about it. no longer was I going to be the nice guy, and wait for her to be swooped off her feet by one of my friends.

I called her a few days later and invited her out for a saltlick outing. I didn't want her to think of it as a 'date' so I asked a few of my friends along, including my friend sto aka: jacques coustopher. big mistake! in addition to being extremely conservative, sto is a world-class horndog -- hence his nickname "stofler". as soon as he saw brandi hop into his pre-calypso ride, he got a predatory look in his eye that I'd seen a thousand times before and when she announced that she was single he practically started salivating. I knew from bitter experience that there was no point in competing with stofler when he was in one of those moods. no one could match his willpower. the bastard ended up sitting next to her most of the night.

fortunately, their relationship never went past the conversation stage and once again I took up the chase. I decided that my best strategy was to be completely upfront, and utterly drunk: I told her I found her incredibly attractive and would do absolutely anything, anything, to go out with her. unlike other people I know, it took me a whole month of hard labor -- and enough booze to kill a donkey -- just to persuade her to make out with me. night after night, we'd end up in some secluded sixth street bar after everyone went home from happy hour. we'd sit and talk until we'd get cleared out of there along with that night's refuse and stagger back to my place to watch a dvd. and just when I had built up enough courage from the bottle to make a pass at her, she'd kick me out of my own room and banish me to my couch. I'd never been made to work so hard for a girl in my life. her surrender, when it finally came, was one of the sweetest moments of my life.

shagging her was like being granted a wish by a fairy godmother. it was an opportunity to turn back the clock and make up for the many many lost opportunities I had passed up in high school, because I wanted to keep my 'nice guy' rep intact.

ooh to be a nice guy again. she was the last girl to get the final version of 'nice' me. I have steadily evolved into your prototypical insensitive asshole since that summer of '99. my ice cream and puppy dogs philosophy has turned into the more crude and upfront: wine 'em, dine 'em, sixty-nine 'em.

he don't wife 'em, he one nights 'em

Posted by Stan at 6/17/2003 |

6.16.2003

a little tease...

from the soon to be a major motion picture "20,000 girls out of my league: tales of a wandering gigolo"


I first layed eyes on her in 1999, over dinner at the hula hut. my roommate at the time was working in the state capitol, and he had befriended a lady who was in charge of bills and appropriations. she wasn't just any lady, she was one of those 'cool, older people' who loved to drink and mingle with the younger crowd as a way to relive their youth. my friend had dragged me to this engagement, I was a bit reluctant to once again be a third wheel, a role that I had played so well that year.

in keeping with tradition, travis and I decided to get loaded before our rendezvous. not that we had to remain sober because we had any hope of getting into the thongs of the sweet nothings from the tridelt/kappa/theta house that frequented the place. lusting after little princesses -- and knowing that it would never be reciprocated -- was just another exercise in self-flagellation, a favorite past time of ours. so we sought the charred oak casketed comfort that only our friend jack daniels could dish out.

brandi stood out immediately, and not because of her long brown hair and flashing green eyes. it was also the way she held herself: proud and erect, like a flamenco dancer. or in her case, like a volleyball setter. she threw her head back defiantly as her mother pointed in our direction and kept her eyes fixed firmly in front of her, almost as if she was expecting to cause a stir and was determined to rise above it. as I stepped in front of her line of sight to take my seat, she didn't so much as glance at me eventhough it was perfectly obvious I was gawping at her. everthing about her radiated contempt, which suited my masochistic mood to a t. this arrogant, through breed-legged beauty embodied all that was forbidden to sad losers like me. my misery was compounded when she chose a seat directly opposite mine at the table, making it impossible for me to concentrate on the menu. for the remainder of the night, until we paid our bill, I tortured myself by imagining what her nubile, nineteen year-old body would look like in the nude. I was one-hundred percent certain I'd never find out....

tbc

Posted by Stan at 6/16/2003 |

6.15.2003

...hence I'm a badass

I may have not come in first in the 'scratch and sniff' contest. but when it comes to the tits, I, like nelly, am number one ey ey ey.

Posted by Stan at 6/15/2003 |

6.13.2003

proof that you don't have to spend a lot of scrillah on a b-day present

your friend's tube top slid down, and you saw her tit...boy what're you gonna dooo???

act a fool.

Posted by Stan at 6/13/2003 |

6.10.2003

grrrr

fuck, defensive driving, fuck right off.

this weekend's pleasant tone ran completely perpendicular to the sour mood of the few days preceeding. being a 'suck' hasn't even so bad because I found a task to complete that gave me both a sense of pleasure and accomplishment (if you can't tell that the previous line was rife with sarcasm, you better check your pulse). I went to blockbuster to check out the course on my dad's account, you see I still have late fees that haunt me from my college days. we found out that that was a balance of $4.10 on the account for 'the hot chick'. I guess my brother enjoyed that movie a little too much. I paid it and the forty bones for the course and I gave my dad the receipt as I casually mentioned the fine. he looked at the receipt in disbelief, I don't know what he ended up doing for I split in my car to start my course. he obviously did get it resolved for he called me later to double check that I hadn't rented it. "I'm positive it wasn't me, because I was firmly planted in the nola vomitorioum this past weekend, you know that", was my reply to him. In an effort to stop the whining, I asked if I could do anything to help. he told me he had to call around and talk to the lawn sprinkler peeps to have a leak fixed, because that isn't this thing. since it is my bag, I hopped on it, making the both of us happy. I also called the city of houston to have them reimburse him the added costs of the water bill, courtesy of the stan.

hey, look at that! I just snapped my arm clean off patting myself on the back.

when I got home yesterday, I actually felt energized for the first time in a long, long time. ok well since I've been back from nola. I stood outside busily chirping and annoying the shit out of truman while he took care of his bathroom business. I decided to eat the last part of my crab cakes and drink most of the liquor in the house while watering the lawn and sweeping the drive-way in anticipation of the horns' sleuing of the seminoles of the state of florida. what happened was slim to none consumption of alcohol and lots of sitting on the couch watching "american chopper" before I called it a night at ten thirty. that's two nights of sleep at twelve thirty in a row. I need to cut this out.

tuesday, being a sheep to meuuunday's (ok, that's takes care of a gratuitus "office space" reference) cool rebel, has been going along with the rest of my so far unsucky week and huffed roughly enough dong to keep all of congress satisfied.

aside from the fact that I has pretty much nothing important/responsible to do today, you know like work, god desided to throw a little rain my way. thanks a lot, big kahuna. trading my dad of fun for a little precipitation was a bittersweet experience. I'm in that period where I think only about the good things, and not worrying about having to water the grass and the soil around the foundation on a daily basis. even though I had a free day, I wasn't fully able to enjoy it.

besides, the reality of having to finish defensive driving drained most of my happiness, so if the free day/rain had made me feel good, the feeling only would have stuck around as long as I could avoid hitting the 'play' button on the dvd player.

not feeling like stepping out last night, I ended up just hanging out here and firing up the good ol' AIM at night. I chatted with gooby, I hadn't done that in a while. I caught her up with my latest and greatest, and she asked about ryan and stacy's wedding. we agreed that it would be great if we went together, but I had to remind her that regardless of how much we click on a personality level, my ineptitude would have eventually made her hate me. still, talking to her was nice.

I tried calling natezilla, to no avail. I just felt like throwing plans around for our band's, "girth, wind and fire", 69th annual world tour. well if not our band, maybe work on the logistic's side of hollywood's band, "meat belch", and with that I could hopefully ride their coattails. that's what I'm all about.

tomorrow I plan to blow out early, and check out the vatican exhibit at the museum. liquored up, hopefully.

damn, when did I come a hoodlum?
drag rat

Posted by Stan at 6/10/2003 |

6.09.2003

celebrate this glorious day by eating left over engagement party cake

today is 6.9 as if I needed a reason to toss back a few, now I have a legit excuse.

oh boy,
cam'ron

Posted by Stan at 6/09/2003 |

I'm pregnant!

at least that is the only logical explanation I can think of for these cravings that I've been having. at 3:30am this morning I had a: braunschwiger and lump crab meat sandwich...on wheat.

Posted by Stan at 6/09/2003 |

6.06.2003

suburban mall misadventures, part 69

I'm waiting for them to announce that sars is somehow related to the same disease that causes asian food court employees to actually believe that yelling loudly at people, even with toothpick sample in hand, is an effective way to attract more eager customers.

the w.h.o.

Posted by Stan at 6/06/2003 |


Ed McMahon, Ben Affleck, Robin, Vanna White



These characters can accurately describe my roll here on "Hit Play".



Hi, I'm Nate McClure, you may remember me from such time wasting online journals as "HOT TEENS, why is there so much meat in my jeans" and "FOREVER PATTY, a girl that was born ugly"



As someone who reads this journal on a bi-monthly basis, it was my goal to add something relevant and meaningful to these chonicles. In order to do this I had to search the vast archives of the journal for things that would spark interesting thought. As I looked back on the years of rhetoric and bullshit I crossed accounts of many true and made-up happenings in the lives of Stan and his friends (myself included). I laughed, I cried, I was truly "weirded out", and I loved. But despite the emotion and nostalgia, I really found nothing that begged for comment.



It did occur to me however that some of the terms, colloquialisms, people mentioned and places visited maybe a bit foriegn to the late reader. So, I have decided to compile a dictionary/glossary/encyclopedia of terms used in this journal to help the reader along.



//GLOSSARY OF TERMS//



69:



Absinthe:



Accidental Porn



Ali B:



Arin:
25 year old woman residing in Austin, TX. Loves migas, queso, beer, and Marlboro Lights. Arin graduated from the University of Texas at Austin in 2001 and is now working for a local non-profit. She likes to feed animals and hold increminating photographs for ransom. She dates a local named Will (see Will) and she is pregnant with her 4th african american baby.



Ashley:



Austin:
Cenral Texas metropolis home to many people under the age of 35 who like to run by the river, drink and fornicate...but not with me...or Stan.



beef ROCKMOORE:



Bukake



Bull:



Bullionaire:



El Carnicero:



Cream Dream:



Doce Championship



Dry Spell:



Emma:



Eyefuck:



Fragrant Areolae



Helmoot:



Helmet Hoopla:



Horns



Kate:



Kid Red



Landry's



Nick:



NOLA:



OG:



Olson, Mary Kate and Ashley



Orandain:



Phi Lodge:



Ryno:



Slumpbuster:



Stacy:



Sto:



Swanger:



The 'Dise



Treasures:



Trista



Trumanstradamus



War:



TBC

Posted by Anonymous at 6/06/2003 |

sportscenter, you are my only friend

son of a bitch! I have got to stop watching so much television.

thanks to my current state of singledom (yes, still) I've been spending a lot more time in front of the tv than normal.

well, truthfully, it's not just because I'm flying solo. sure, it helps, but I'd probably be watching more tv these days anyway. dude! we got: nba finals, ncaa baseball super regionals, the amazing race 4...hooray!

aside from all the hoo-hah going on right now, I just discovered that I got five hundred glorious channels of digital cable that expand beyond channel 111 (espn classics).

you might be asking yourself, 'jigga, if you is single, why you be sittin' on yo' big ol' butt and not hitting the pavement for some poontang? and don't you owe me money, bitch?'

well, my ghetto fabulous friend, I discovered a deal (i.e. scam) where I could get more action for less than the cost of my previous modus operandi (soon be be detailed in my book). instead of spending sixty-nine dollars for two hours at a bar for a tab in hopes of meeting some random strange, I pay nothing and hang out amongst a ton of hot single mothers when picking up my cousin from pre-school. it's a great deal until I have to scale back in august, when summer session is over. pre-school is not unlike a crack dealer. the first hit's free, kids.

so aside from the nine hours of sportscenter that has now become part of my daily routine, I've had to pencil in time to watch some things which, sadly, are important to me.

miss universe situation is insane in casa de stan. back in march (or something), I remember talking to my mom and her telling me about miss venezuela's plight, and while every other city in the world had people protesting the war, or declaring support for the u.s. troops, the people of vzla had banners declaring their support for their beauty contestant. shit, even kate mentioned something abou it last time I was in austin. it's contagious. like herpes, but in the good way.

I am not immune to miss universe fever. I followed miss venezuela's struggle very closely and truly believed that this was her year to win the crown.

so you can imagine how loudly I screamed when she has been declared the first runner-up. I dropped a lot of f-bombs during that. miss venezuela being declared 'the first loser' in the miss universe pageant this year is proof that god hates me. so as you can probably imagine I'm in a pretty sensitive mood.

so last night when god mercifully decided not to smite me, I turned the lights down low and shut my phone off for two hours so I could watch the amazing race 4 in silence.

I started watching the amazing race when the first episode aired and made it a point to watch every episode thereafter. while I genuinely liked the show at first, eventually I started watching it partially for kitsch value and partially out of obligation in protest of abc's decision to cast those flaming fags from miami...errrrr havana. not watching t.a.r. would be like leaving a lover -- a melodramatic, brooding lover with a thesaurus.

they eventually got eliminated like the true bitches the are, and I was back to watching it fo' real.

last night I dug up a tape of an episode from the original season. and I remembered that I had built up a bizarre emotional connection with this show. I can't really explain it. it's like these fictional characters are my pals. also, I remembered that I had fallen for emily, then paige in the second season. I am entirely aware that this is unhealthy.

I happened to watch the episode where emily and her mom gave up entirely too early and then decided to just take the bus to the pit-stop so they could be eliminated from the race. had they actually backtracked and completed the tasks they would have remained in the running. hmm, someone didn't listen to coach jimmy valvano's espy speech. and, I fucking got choked up. I haven't cried in seventeen years and a jerry bruckheimer production almost made me lose my shit.

in related news, I'm growing a vagina.

jammin' on the one,
theo huxtable



Posted by Stan at 6/06/2003 |

I've got to pimp my shit out like a 3-cent hooker

right about now my new disciples: keri and julie, are spreading my gospel in the 'show me' state. and show them I did. I showed them how to life, showed them how to eat a crab, and most important of all I showed them the way of the dude. I was pretty geeked that they were so eager to listen, learn, and further study the tao of stan. they even promised they would buy first copy editions of my book: 20,000 girls out of my league: tales of a wandering gigolo; soon to be a major motion picture.

anyway, all this has newly inspired me to finally start putting pen to paper and start shopping my writtings around to different magazines, newspapers and such. a boy needs money to shop his book and screen play around. and lord knows I'm not spending my money, I'm doing it on other people's nicks and dimes. unfortunately, 'the man' says my income is too great, and I don't have enough 'chirren' to quality for government hand-outs...oh well, such are the rare disadvantages of being a true ballah like myself.

be on the look out for a pay-pal link. if you would like to contribute some scrillah towards operating costs, in return I promise to make sure you are on the guest list for my mtv vma and/or cannes film festival party when my movie is finally released. or if you are a girl, and seek an immediate expression of my gratitude...I'd be glad to give you a real live demonstration of my cunning ligual skills.

have cock, will travel

Posted by Stan at 6/06/2003 |

6.04.2003

the party, the chad, the bar hopping, and the chiquito. and all I had to show for it was a porcelain doll

after leaving downtown around 2:30pm we arrived at casa de stacy a few minutes later and quickly scattered to recharge our batteries. I split for the couch, shed my shirt and my pants...somethings never change.

we got to the party relatively early, we were rolling with the hosts after all. this gave nathan and I ample time to score about six or nine drinks before the crowd showed up. I met some more of stacy and ryno's friends. and you know how it typically goes, you are introduced, you get some pleasantries out of the way and then you go back to standing against the wall opposite from the girls. it was such a cliquish jr. dance party at first, but after a few libations and some choice song requests by yours truly it was all about to change. by the end of the night/weekend we were all best friends. too bad chad chose to party himself out. some people aren't just cut out for this drinking thing.

in other news, I finally met my nemesis. and fuck! he's so badass that even I want to date him now. now you are going to think I'm gay...yes, both of you.

speaking of, apparently I'm not the only one who questions my sexuality. her first words to me were: "so I was talking to ryan and nathan last night, and I asked them about you, like if you had a girlfriend, but they wouldn't say anything, 'wait, 'til you meet him' they said, so I just assumed you were gay or something". those words belonged to ashely, I confess that I too was anxious to finally meet her.

regardless of any general assiness that may be going on in my life at the time, I always look forward to meet new ladies, specially friends of friends, if only because I do so love getting props from people who read my journal. I don't think it's a secret that I'm a total prostitute for any sort of recognition, and as such, I've almost completely stopped feeling guilty for enjoying it. the one or two line 'I think you're funny', 'you should be a writer' props that I usually get are good, but the quality of the props I got on saturday night/sunday morning are only exceeded by the quality of the women who dealt them.

there was a reason why I rebooked my flight, instead of just saying 'fuck it' and gone back to bed. I'm glad I did, because I struck up an uncharacteristically quick rapport with sweet ashley whose next line went "did nathan tell you that we had sex last night, and that I'm shacking with one of you guys again tonight?". yeah, this girl can definately hang with us bullionaires.

after topping off my screwdriver for the eleventeenth time, we got to talking. after talking for about an hour, the number of coincidences and common points of interest became too many to ignore, and against my better stalker-avoiding judgement, I didn't put up any sort of fight when she asked for my number. thank jeebus for the occasional lapse in good judgement.

I still wasn't too sure about her, so I fired off a volley of 'bull' with the anxious wonder of a couple dressed up as raggedy ann and raggedy andy on 'let's make a deal' wondering if their big prize would be a brand new car or an old drunk donkey. let's just say, were this 'let's make a deal', raggedy andy would have epileptic seizures of pleasure and raggedy ann could drive him to the hospital in their brand new lincoln continental.

the awkwardness was present, but much more minimal than most first meetings. we watched together as chad puked his guts out. she didn't laugh at me for having a lame online journal. and we enjoyed a new castle as she won $50 in video poker at lucy's. now if I can only get her to introduce me to her hot, morally casual 'bama friends.

after we all witnessed chad dumping the contents of his stomach on a sandwhich platter that a quick-thinking justing placed under him we decided to walk two blocks to lucy's. we stayed there long enough to regroup our forces and stand in front of the video poker machine and playing just long enough to get a free drink from the all-white clad uptown boys. we called a cab and took it to the quarter.

I was expecting a return trip to big daddy's, but instead I got famous door. a wannabe cancun/padre/daytona bar. the interior is designed completely by john q. fratdaddy. while the sheer number of lousiana trash ladies in there was cool, it's kind of, um, disappointing to drink a seven dollar beer and listen to Nelly even if I'm watching a spontaneous wet t-shirt contest.

at least I didn't have to pay to get in. they charged the four european dudes ahead of me 10 bucks a piece to get in, but for some reason they just waved me past. it's not like I'm ubber attractive or was decked out in my gucci suit. all I can figure is that my fame has somehow spread to souther lousiana. it was only a matter of time, my friends.

After a quick stop by the piano bar at pat o's, I succumbed to the fact that I'm a huge, gaping vagina and went home to sleep at 3am.

besides, nola couldn't handle too much of me in one night. I was giving her a break...


much much more to come,
chiquito the chihuahua

Posted by Stan at 6/04/2003 |

cream dream of a weekend...

well at least the parts that I can remember. here is a quick recap:

friday:

it was good, all you need to know is: there was an open bar and my pants, my shirt, and my tie are still at the dry cleaners, and that the digi, my reefs and my suit jacket are still mysteriously missing.

...and I think I have a new girlfriend. some girl keeps calling me and I'm afraid to check the messages for fear that I may have put a baby in her.

saturday:

after staying up incredibly late on friday night/saturday morning taking care of innumerable last minute trip preparations (i.e. tasting every drink there was to be had at the bar to make sure they weren't poisoned), the first split-second after I woke up was all heavy sighs and head buried in hands. after I finally realized where I was, and remembering where I was supposed to be, I rolled out of the rack. my dad informed me that he had cancelled my flights because I was out cold by 8:45am. the thought of having to pay full-fare for a last minute trip really chapped my still drunk ass. however, as the hour wore on, and after I finally rebooked my flight, a smile grew across my face because I knew that soon enough I'd be out of this infernal town and on a plane heading for a three day escape from reality. when time came to leave the bat cave, you'd think I had a little friend going to fellatiotown under my sheets judging by the expression on my face.

NOLA, BABY!

it was a misserable car ride to le airport. I was turning all kinds of green. the only thing that keep that glass of o.j. in my stomach was my mind entertaning the thought of flying first class. the legroom, the free drinks, the passengers who have all their natural teeth and belt buckles smaler than their heads. instead, however, in a moment of semi-soberness I remembered I was flying with southwest, which offers roughly the same accomodations as a greyhound bus. there is a reason it's the cheapest national carrier, and because I'm a cheap bastard, I will continue to patronize southwest until the rest of the world acknowledges my fame and showers me with the love and money I so deserve.

I somehow ended up in the creepy old singles section of the plane, where circumstances forced me to observe some bastard beverage salesman from tampa (our flight's final destination) eyefuck and close talk this recent divorcee who appeared to have signed up for some 'buy 9 facelifts, get the 10th one free' program while señor bumpkin sitting next to me tried to look up her skirt. at least I didn't pay too much attention to them, as I had somehow managed to seat myself in the emergency exit aisle and I found myself consumed with the worry that I would be forced to clumsily toss my fellow passengers during an unfortunate landing.

thankfully, however, the flight went quickly and smoothly, the two aspirin I snaked from the flight attendant and the screwdriver put my throbbing head at ease, and I found the party waiting to pick me up without any trouble. albeit, a few minutes late, but I spent that time getting baseball updates from kate.

it was cool to see a short-haired nathan at first, but it suddenly became way cooler when he reached down to pick up a paper sack and his hand pulled up to reveal a landry's shrimp po'boy. I have friends who know e x a c t l y what I like. I win the cool friends sweepstakes.

contrary to the last time I had come to nola, I showed a genuine interest in spending time with my friends instead of trying to get into my date's pants, so on the way to the hotel I tried to have a conversation. I kid, I kid. I'm usually too excited to take it all in to have a decent conversation. and I also need to make a point to visit more often, lest they think I'm trying to use them. I'll blame the infrequent visits on distance rather than nightlife though.

speaking of nightlife, it didn't take me long to get started. while ryno checked his parents into their room, nathan and I made ourselves at home at the lobby bar. and we also gawked at the bangbus (word, thomas!) sitting on the other side of the window. oh and I pretended to be bummed when this girl called me. I tried to play it off.

truthfully, though, I was so happy to be cruising the street, evander lewis could have used my scrotum as a speed bag while someone forced me to watch 'steel magnolias', and I'd still have a mile-wide smile across my face.

stacy pulled up to the ho-tel with her mom, and she greeted me with a cookie. her broken foot is a trip, ryno can't keep himself from tripping on it. we downed some more drinks and went home to nap. we had to be fresh for the party later that night.

oh well, I got to sit in the middle of her shower presents. weddings are such a racket...I can't wait to marry myself so I can received all these ridiculous presents from my parents' friends.

(to be continued...)

Posted by Stan at 6/04/2003 |

6.01.2003

the following is a list of a few of the funniest things I've experienced in the past year or so:

- jenn...errrr slutti's boomerang/national geographic tiggies
- marshall's 'gretel' story
- orendain
- laura falling out of the cab
- stacy falling down the stairs
- ryno and I's quest to be waterboys at the wet t-shirt contest
- stacy's complaint to the manager of the titty bar
- smoke and mirrors night
- witnessing nathan pass a field sobreity test
- watching will clark stuff his pants full of beer
- sneaking into the vip sky box at the compaq classic
- walking out of out tab at the clover grill, twice
- me getting into a bar brawl and not remembering a thing
- 'these are not the drunks you are looking for'

Posted by Stan at 6/01/2003 |