On the way to work this morning, I saw a hot chick picking her nose when she was driving. I love when that happens - when an attractive girl gets her spot blown up and feels less attractive. In reality, she should realize that she's hot, and in the big scheme of life the fact that she picked her nose really doesn't matter. Shit I pick my nose - lots of people do - but most people don't like to admit it.
Editor's Note: I do not, however, eat my boogies...that's just fuckin gross. There's nothing I find more disgusting than a mucous eater. You could be Megan Fox and if you eat your snot, we're done. Oh yeah, a piece of advice my dad gave me when I was younger: "You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can never pick your friend's nose." Write that down.
Sorry to anyone who gives a fuck for my recent three-day hianus...I mean hiatus. I've been working like it's my job. Because of that, I'm looking forward to the weekend as always. It's great that I have a friend like Ace who plans my life out for me: Birthday party tomorrow, birthday party Saturday. All I have to do is show up and look pretty. At least I'll be able to accomplish the former.
Lately my weekdays have actually been just as fun as my weekends. Tuesday I did the sushi/saki thing with Van and yesterday me and EZE crushed a 12-pack and possibly went to a strip club. I invited Lola to come with us because it's always fun to bring a girl to these places, but she was sleeping. What a pussy. Literally. Anyway, definitely loved the text message this morning:
"Thanks for the drunk voicemail...did you go to the strip club and house some strippers?"
Editor's Note: Good stuff. Glad I've gotten yet another person to get on the "House it!" tip. No, Lola, I didn't house them, but there was one point when I was inches away. I'm glad I exercised the utmost restraint. One Asian stripper did slap me in the face, pull my hair and pinch my nipples though. I'm not gonna lie, it turned me on. But my nipples hurt for like 5 minutes after.
As I was writing above, I chilled out with Van on Tuesday - Van's getting married next year, which of course means that there will be a bachelor party. I'll say it before, I'll say it again, and I'll probably say it again soon: Oh...fuck...yeah. He was saying how he got into a small quarrel with his lady, nothin major, and it's all good now. I told him, "Listen - I don't give a shit about your marriage, or your happiness...if you rob me of this bachelor party I will never forgive you." Of course I was just joking - he knows I love him to death - but that bachelor party's gonna be ooosome.
Last year when we went to Texas we had one for Popeye and that was unforgettable to say the least. This one's going to be different though. The main reason is because I will be the guy who is in charge of planning it. I think whether you know me or if you've been crazy enough to read my blog without knowing me, either way you realize that I'm a fucking weirdo. Van, I hope you like condiments and random objects being put in random places. And that's before the bachelor party.