6 back

We work in sales (gas analysis, legal services, flesh, your mother's secrets, etc), so the concept of the "hockey stick" is one which sits firmly at the forefront of our lives. 90% of our business is done in the last three days of the month and thats how we like it. Our bosses hate us for it, but it makes us feel like corporate superheroes. Afterall, Superman saves those feral children seconds before the orphanage is engulfed in flames, when all he needed to do was install smoke detectors.

You know who else habitually worships the quiet storm of the hockey stick?

The Astros (and Sade).

Like you, we've openly written off this year's team with the disgust one usually reserves for a pawy new stepfather, but lately we feel the tinge of burden to cast our good eye towards grainy Astro game projections at Star Pizza on Washington (chicken, feta, spinach and artichoke hearts - try to deny it, it wont let you).

6 back with three weeks to go gives us shakier feelings like Michael J Fox during a game of Operation

Yes. We know. No cool.

But on an 8 game roll coupled with Milwaukee self medicating their case of Recent Success with a plunger enema, there are very wild notions running through our plumpy heads at present.

Basically, we're a sweep of Colorado away from filling our jacuzzi up with cheese cake batter. And yes, you're invited.

Oh and there's this.

What's behind the surfboard you ask? Just a couple gold gloves and a career .344 slugging percentage, need more? There's no more.

Birthday

Today is my birthday. My folks called and sang happy birthday, they're in Antibes at the Hotel Du Cap with their Bentley-driving, vineyard owning, chubby-daughter having friends.

Hotel Du Cap, Eden Roc - Hosting rich cunts and assholes since before they were rich.

After the Birthday Song, my dad shouts into the speakerphone, "28 and no children!"

They are both drunk at its 1pm in France. "We love you, get married," my mom chimes in as the connection is broken or they just hang up. Blackberry texts say I should get a package this week. My parent s have been giving me wedding gifts for the last three years, when I asked my mom why she thought I needed a Baccarat crystal decanter for my 26th birthday, she replied, "your wife is going to love it, trust me."

Package came this afternoon -

"Its a Steuben!"

Thanks mom!

Girl Talk - Once Again

Hey girl, how you doin?
If you havent got with Girltalk yet you're a fag.

Kobain

I'm at Kobain last Friday night watching the Astros game and spotlighting Amanda's saggy cleavage as she digs deep in the fridge for my next Miller Light (ML). Amanda has the streaky blonde hair and bad augmentation work of a girl from Beaumont who's got outstanding credit card debt and in desperate need of a greasy Armenian boyfriend with a lisp and an '06 3-Series. I've stared at the top of Amanda's head more than a few times in the last two months wishing she'd use more tongue and less teeth.Not Amanda, but obviously late on her rent.

I live near Kobain in the condo my parents paid cash for. I pay the utilities and HOA fees and call it MY condo, but the parents own it and in turn me too. I make good money, but not enough to live in three stories AND pound white powder in my face each weekend.

Amanda looks over at me during a lull and smiles the indicative smile of a goaless woman with an Associates degree in textiles and an absentee father. I'll see that same smile tomorrow morning only perpendicular to the Tempur-Pedic my parent's got me for Christmas and its going to be awkward again when I don't offer breakfast or walk her back to her car still parked at the bar. Her smile reminds me to check my nightstand for the Rolex I got for graduating college in six years.

I'm waiting for my buddy Dave. Dave has three DUIs and is only allowed to drive to and from work. Dave takes taxis everywhere now, which makes him a tardy motherfucker and panhandler for rides. Its funny, because prior to the license suspension, Dave would get a little fucked up then drive home, but now since Dave doesnt drive anymore, the boner gets paralytic every other night, which has fucked up his life way more than running down a famly of four on the tollway ever could. Since on probation, Dave's chipped a tooth, slept in Uptown park, thrown up on a Bud Light girl and gone home with a 52 year old woman known to frequenters at Ron's Pub as simply "The Hurricane".

I'm playing a variation on the game 18 hole. On the links its 18 beers for 18 holes. At Kobain tonight its 2 beers an inning, one per side. Its the top of the 6th and the Astros are are down 3-4 to the Reds when Dave assaults the door with a far more forceful entrance than required.

Dave sees me at my usual perch, and says a quick hi to some Brooks Brother on the couch on his way over. Dave is a patent attorney at a law firm of weak-willed, emotionally stickerburr'd women, many of whom have fallen prey to compliments and exemplary skills as a liar conversation.

Dave knows I know Amanda, but neither of us knows who fucked her first. He wraps his Ferragamos around the base of the stool and finishes a story, to the audience of Amanda and I, he must have started in the cab. Amanda brings over four shots of Bread Bull (Brandy/RB) for us. A little of the second one dribbles down my chin.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

I hear Amanda in the kitchen making cereal. Looks like I'm walking her to her car.

awesome

JJ Inc. Brings Balls to the Blogsphere

JJ Inc. Open for Business, dildos.

5 thinkgs you should know-

1. Eminem is the gospel, Robert Frost looks up from his grave at the low swinging dick of Marshall with awe and jealousy. M drops poetry that would kangaroofuck Emily Dickinson into prostitution.

2. Manifest Titties. Give me huges fake bags of mess or give me death.

3. Rohibnol is for Saturdays, but Sundays are for worship. He's my best friend, oh and by the way, he died for YOUR sins.

4. Condoms are for pussys. You either mean it or you don't. AIDs free ladies, so feel free to roll your hips on this cock with little worry. I will sit with you at Planned to get a M-after-P the next morning, thats proven.*

5. Please no Indians. Both.

*Unless its Saturday- midfield sweeper for the Memorial Carpet Snakes, son. Undefeated 8-0. Get some. Also not on Sundays.