So I'm Returning To Madison And...

It’s back to the real world for me today as I’m sitting in the MSP airport waiting for my connecting flight to Madison. Sitting here is much better than sitting middle seat of the exit row on my flight from BIL to MSP. Here’s the scoop: I sit down in my assigned 7A seat with nobody in the 7B and a large dude in the 7C seat. After everyone is on board we give each other the knowing “Dude, we rock and have 3 seats for the 2 of us” look. It wasn’t but a split second after that that I look around and notice that a flight attendant is pointing at me (Let me take a second to state that I use the term flight attendant simply to remain PC. They are not flight attendants. The plane full of passengers and I are the ones that are “attending” the flight. They are working the flight. But because of the growing hypersensitivity of our [The] American culture, it is no longer acceptable to refer to them by their initial tag…whores). The lady says “please change seats with this kid” who is too young to sit in an exit row, and allow the mother/daughter pair to sit next to each other in my delightful double spot.

For my attempt at generosity I get a big ‘ol bag of reverse Karma and I’m stuck between two big dudes. Sandal man and Scotchy McDrinksAlot. Sandal man was cool and racked out within minutes. Scotchy McDrinksAlot needed to start probing me.

Scotchy: Wheres ares you goooooin…

Me: Madison WI. I work there during the week, but live in Billings.

Scotchy: You musts make banks!

Me: …

Scotchy: So what does you do out theres?

Me: I work for a company doing FDA start-ups for drug companies. I’m working at one now that makes another form of Botox.

Scotchy: I’m 46. Look at my face. Should I get some of that face shit done?

Me: I don’t know, I’m just helping the company get started and I’m not really into any of that cosmetic surgery.

Scotchy: So are you sayins that I should or shouldn’t?

Me: Lay off the McDonalds, booze and saturated fats for about 2 years and I think you would look 10 years younger.

So I didn’t really say that last part, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t want to. It’s just that I REALLY didn’t want to get kicked off of an airplane for being the first guy to triangle choke a drunken dude in an exit row after he attacked me. Instead I acted tired and tried to fall asleep in a seat that smelled like any seat on a downtown subway without the added bonus urine smell (Did I mention that this was an 11:25AM flight? It was.). I was fairly successful in this endeavor with only one small interruption from Scotchy (presumably his buzz was wearing off).

Scotchy (to flight attendant): Can I buy a scotch on the rocks?

Woman Holding Order Ready Edibles (flight attendant): One moment…

(a minute or two goes by before she returns)

Scotchy: Can I get that drink I ordered?

W.H.O.R.E: Sir, I can’t sell you that drink because you are seated in an exit row.

Scotchy: Why not?!?!

W.H.O.R.E: Because you must assist others in the event of an accident (presumably an accident besides letting this ass clown on the airplane), and I can clearly smell that you have already been drinking this morning.

Scotchy: Oh…

W.H.O.R.E: Would you like to buy a box of snacks for $5?

Scotchy: No…

It was at this point that I continued to appear asleep as I didn’t want to be the recipient of a barrage of non-coherent babblings about how he should be able to have a drink when he wants to.

I know some of you were worried that he might have to sober up before getting in a car and driving somewhere once he got to his hometown of MSP, but fear not, he STUMBLED off of the plane after that 2 hour flight.


4 HOURS LATER

My plane to Madison was supposed to be a quick 55 minute ordeal. Turns out this was just not a good day to fly for me.

We all load the plane at 5PM. Upon walking on the plane I instantly notice that it is REALLY warm. I take my seat in the first row (no first class on this plane) and wait for a big fat hot person to sit next to me. This never happens, but the stewardess (she wasn’t a W.H.O.R.E yet. She only had one stripe on her shoulder) comes on the intercom and tells us “the AC is not working on the plane so please keep the windows closed to reduce heat.” I don’t have anyone sitting next to me (read: sweet double seat for me), but they put the crazy screaming baby right behind me (read: balances any sweet out). We proceed to sit on the plane for about 45 minutes in that heat without pushing away from the gate when the captain tells us “we are waiting on a fuel truck in order to get a bit more fuel to fly around some storms.” The captain then tells us to go back into the terminal and wait there where it isn’t as hot. We are only in the terminal for about 15 minutes before they rescan us all back onto the plane. After another 15 minutes of hot cabin waiting and taxiing, we are finally airborne. For our suffering they give us a free alcoholic beverage. I got a beer and it was tasty. Mainly because I was so GD hot at that point.

As we approach Madison, once again the captain comes on. “We are waiting for some storms to move out of Madison, but with the extra fuel we should be able to circle for about 20 minutes and let all the weather blow off to the east.” He was right about the fuel, but sadly not about the weather. We circle for exactly 20 minutes and then take off for LaCrosse Wisconsin. Another 30 minutes of hot ass airplane and we land.

This would have been a great time to get out, cool down and stretch the legs a bit, but sadly we didn’t get that opportunity. One of the grounds crew people came running up to the plane and told us “TSA has already gone home from this airport, so anybody that gets off of the plane will not be allowed back on.” 2 fat drunk dudes tap out immediately. As they pass I got a great big wiff of sweaty balls and the glorious sight of two guys’ backsides that look like they have been soaked with a wet rag. Moments later 4 more people tap out.

We just continue to sit on the tarmac with the door open for some seriously weak attempts at AC when I notice a smell that is very unbecoming and not quite the sent of sweat, fear and hatred for NWA that I had grown accustomed to over the last couple hours.

Lady behind me (to the stewardess): Is there any way we can get off the plane to get a new diaper and change my daughter.

Ahhhhh…the smell of baby shit in a sweat soaked airplane. Just can’t beat a smell like that. I try to distract myself by attempting to unweld my jeans from my now rashing ass.

We get refueled and get our safety speech for the 3rd time for this plane. Then right before taking off we get a knock on the door and quick stroke of luck. One of the ground crew had driven to the store and bought diapers and some wipes. It may still be hot, we may still be tired of that fucking aluminum tube we are all stuck in, but it no longer smelled like body processed peas and carrots. And for that I rejoiced.

We taxi to the end of the runway, where once again the captain comes on the PA (his voice was on the PA, he didn’t ejaculate on the PA…as far as I know). “Looks like another storm is blowing into Madison. We are going to wait this one out on the ground.” So we sit…again.

Finally we get into the air, do some flying things and land in Madison. 10:30PM. Damn it feels “good” to be “home”.

1K

I finally hit 1000 views. I feel like I'm finally starting to make a difference. Feel free to post anything I've written on billboards and send me a picture of it.

Last Weekend In Madison

Coming into this weekend I was less than excited. Nothing quite beats a weekend stuck in your apartment doing work on a computer, right? Turns out it was a bit more fun that originally speculated.

Friday night I was ready to go get some food and didn’t want to fight the crowds at the brewery, so I went the Russian restaurant that is located in the same strip mall. The place is pretty great too. The food is entertaining enough, but the service is exceptional. Not in the normal “How may I help you?” and “Can I get you another drink?” kind of way, but in the “Hey, that waitress is smokin hot!” kind of way. Friday night was exceptional in that I was the only person in the place. That means that I get conversation throughout dinner and my beers don’t ever run dry.

Little background for you: The place is run by 3 individuals. Alex is the cook/owner. Yana is the waitress/hot piece of ass and is pretty much married to Alex. Oleen is the Mexican from LA that is NOT down with working hard (duh).

After getting my first beer I ask Yana where Oleen is, so that I can give him some shit about the Celtics destroying the Lakers.

Yana: He doesn’t work here any more…

Turns out the guy actually quit before getting fired. I take back anything I said about his lack of ambition. He really took some initiative there.

Once Alex got my order and went back to start working on it, Yana started pouring shots for us. We had a few before dinner and at least one to follow, plus a few beers on top of that. Towards the end of dinner I told them that this was my last trip out here and that I didn’t know where I was going next. Alex immediately starts to grab bottles (obviously vodka) off of the shelf and offer them to me for my superior patronage. Not being a hard alcohol drinker, I politely turned them down. So the next offer was for them to take me to the Dells and show me a good time. This was my last weekend here so I decided what the hell and agreed to the trip. The plan is to meet at the restaurant at 9pm, go out there for the night and come back in the morning.

For those of you that don’t know about the Dells (I assume everyone that doesn’t live in Wisconsin or Illinois hasn’t the foggiest), it is a city based entirely on cheap touristy attractions, namely waterparks. If you have ever been to Daytona, Honalulu, Tee-shirt/Tattoo Land [The] America, you know what I’m talking about. You can only be offered the same shirt/towel/croc sandal with different colors before it all just seems like the same thing (read: future jizz rag…something to catch your population paste when you are out feeding the geese). I hadn’t seen the place, and I was going to take this opportunity to at least set my eyes upon it.

I get there at 9 and watch some UFC while the two of them close the place down and change out of their work clothes. I got to watch Spencer Fisher punch his way into my wallet and take the money that I had on Stephens. We are now ready to go, Yana had time to change her clothes and once again I’m left desiring to bang somebody else’s girlfriend. Sweet Jesus she was looking good. She takes off early for something she had to do in town while Alex and I get into his 2002 Beamer M3 and hit the road.

[Insert from Keev’s “Important Rules To Owning And Driving A Fast Car]
…and for those reasons alone you must modify your attitude to fit the vehicle instead of attempting to mold a steel/aluminum structure to become who you are. Simply put, shop wisely. The number one attitude change that must be made at a bare minimum is boosting your pride to match your horsepower. If the driver of a 300hp STi gets into the front seat of your 333hp M3, make sure that you pride yourself as a fast driver and put the effin pedal as close to the floorboards as possible without spinning those high end rubber composites. Man cannot live on bread alone. He must accelerate.

Although I think that car is bad ass, the 2006 STi with AV mods is still much cooler in my mind (AWD for heroes, two tires spin for zeros). Haven’t been in a ‘06 M3 though…

When we get to town, Alex gives me a drive by “what’s what” of the place and then shows me where I’ll be staying. Sure as shit…I’m not staying at the same place as them. Who knew? It is a small one room apartment (read: single wide trailer divided into 3 rooms) right at the end of the Dells “strip”.

Alex: I’m going to drop you off at a bar and come back and clean the place up.

Me: Are you sure? I can help you out.

Alex: No, this is your time for…relax.

Me: Ummm…ok.

He drives me down to a bar called Das Boot (sure as shit they have boots! I half expected to sit down next to Barry Badrinath and Landfill), introduces me to the barmaid and heads back to the apartment. Knowing that I didn’t want to wake up on the side of the road naked and covered in blood next to a dead deer again, I opted to skip out on the boot and just have a pint. The fight night was just getting to the main event, so I sat back and watched Kendall Grove win back the money that my other fighters tried to squander away.

After about 30 minutes and enough time for 2 bachelorette parties of Midwest’s greatest grass grazers to enter the place, Alex and Yana show back up. We go to the upstairs of this place and place some darts and pool in what appears to be a great depression era bar. The place was empty except for the 3 of us, so I started to rally the troops a little and get the party moving. I was able to get them to try out two other bars. Sadly the cliental of those places is ugly women and women that don’t speak English. If an attractive individual walked up and I would start talking to her, she would give me a strange look and then start to talk to Alex or Yana in what I’m left to assume was some sort of playa-hater tongue.

Around 12 or 12:30 A&Y decided that they are going to head home and go to bed (they had to work in the morning), and I was left to make a good time for myself.

Turns out I wasn’t on point with my solo skills. After a few beers and failed attempts at engaging anyone in conversation, I went back to my room, smoked a bowl and put my head down for the night. In the morning I got up, had a wake’n bake, then caught a ride back to Madtown with Yana.

I give the whole experience a B+. Normally it would be a lot lower, but at least I wasn’t catching my man butter in the apartment for the 24th consecutive hour. I was living it up…Wisconsin style.

On Wednesday I head for the mountains (of Busch…beer), and we’ll see what my new adventures will entail.

My Office Space

I've been meaning to write all sorts of really funny things. Sadly, I've been swamped here in Madison.

That was not a pun pointed at the absurd amount of water that is covering vast quantities of land out here.

SCCREEEAAAACCCCHHHH....BLAMMO

As Gus Chigguns would often times say “I’d be more worried about the coyotes!” Sadly, Gus was an old time’in son of a bitch that doesn’t know the first thing about the madness of Wisconsin.

Tsaoism takes a stance against support of superstition, paranormal, Jesus and Sigfield and Roy. Any type of thoughts or lifestyle modeling that is based in fear or profit based hype-mongering has little room in a tsao based life. This isn’t to say that I disregard any beliefs that I don’t readily understand. It is just that I spend very little time thinking about these things or the proposed repercussions (read: Hell or being eaten by a tiger). So when I tell you that I had a bad run at traveling on Friday the 13^th, please understand that I believe that this was purely a statistical inevitability.

Went to my favorite Russian restaurant Thursday night, but left my card at the place. So at lunch the next day, I had to make a run to get it back. Ran inside, gave the guy from LA some shit for the Lakers losing after having a 24 point lead on Boston, then jumped in the car and headed back to work. About a mile down the road we were going by a big beer truck that was parked, and as we passed I noticed that a driver of a Dodge Stratus was not looking at us and pulling out into the road quite quickly in our direction. The driver of the car I was in made a last ditch attempt at getting out of their way, but there was nothing to be done. Two high school girls had us in their death grip and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

Her front end nailed the back passenger side tire with enough force that my sunglasses took a trip from my face to the feet of the driver. The driver and I seemed to be fine, so we pulled into a nearby parking lot. Moments later the girls pulled in as well. They got out and the Dodge driver apologized to my driver and, after assuring nobody was injured, they started to exchange insurance info. As for how the cars faired, I’d say the bigger Yukon XL held its own (read: won) against the Stratus.

Being a blog conscience individual I immediately got out and took pictures. Being a humor conscience individual I immediately sent a text to Anonymous_Blogger:

Me: If you get hit by girls in a car, is it okay to hit on them?

AB: If they don’t have insurance they have to have sex with you.

A cop shows up and starts to get everybody’s story and personal information. I don’t remember anything except that the girl said she was 15 years old. FUCK

Me: I might want to wait a year. They were born in ’93.

AB: Go for it you pussy.

I assume that my Lawyer told him to say that as my brother and I haven’t been giving him much work recently (read: money). Nice try, but you are going to have to get my money the old fashioned way: Get me drunk enough to make terrible decisions.

The long and short of that little tidbit is that for the first time in my life I was not pleased with the results when two underage high school girls smacked my ass. I guess there is a first for everything.

The rest of the day didn’t fair well either when I got stuck in the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport for quite a few hours after all the airport watering holes had closed and eventually got into billings around 1:30pm.

Saturday the 14^th was much nicer.

She Will Go By The Name Bukkake

Like I've stated before, I've spend a fair number of hours on the interwebs. Many times I assume that the online vocab that I've acquired is fairly universal. If I say "So I got tired of watching WOW at this NOOBS house, so I went to find some STRANGE, found nothing, JEOK instead.", I pretty much assume that everyone is on the same page.

Turns out that is not the case.

I recently got the raft I ordered and have been pining over like a beaver pines for a pirates false leg. The thing is even cooler than I had imagined (and I had daydreamed the thing up to the point where it was a Spanish galleon with 24 guns to a side). We got a mild break in the shitty B-town weather and took it up to the Stillwater for its maiden voyage. Sadly, with no 3 Thieves on hand, I christened the boat with the next best thing: Banquet beer.

My first go at being captain on my very own boat went quite well. At 12'6" the boat is a lightning fast dart (even when overloaded). We were unable to successfully surf any waves, but got into some nice holes and got wet (I could say that a million times and still smirk each and every time). Even on the smallest waves (not to imply that there is anything very large on the Stillwater), we were taking faceshots. Normally we would refer to this as simply "getting wet", but we were donning dry tops and dry suites, hence faceshots. By the end of the trip we all pretty much felt like bus station stallions taking hot shots for meth money.

With this strong image fresh in our minds, we concluded that the boat could only reasonably be named one thing. Ladies and Germs, I give you Bukkake (makes me wonder about the traffic these references will bring to my blog)


As with all things that I take very seriously in my life, I made sure my Lawyer was present for legal purposes. Coors owes me money! That can would not break for the picture.

Time For A Shift In Social Paradigm

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