I feel like I might do well this weekend, because I’m very hairy right now.

Prior to going out for a night on the town, there are a few ways that a man can ensure that he will not meet or get lucky with a woman.  These include:

- Taking great care to clean one’s bedroom
- Bringing a condom out in one’s wallet
- Telling a friend, "You know what? I feel like I might get lucky tonight."
- Hiding all pornography
- Setting up matches and candle on bedroom nightstand

Doing any of these things prior to going out will guarantee that you not get laid.  As a hairy guy, there’s one more: trimming the body hair.

To give you a little bit about where I’m at right now in terms of my grizzly bear-ness, I haven’t gotten a haircut in two months (since my buddy Joe’s wedding in April).  My beard is not mountain man-ish, but is scraggly and hasn’t been trimmed for some time.  My pubis region, usually the one beacon of kemptness among the unruly waves of hair all over my body, resembles not a well-trimmed hedge but a neglected junkyard.  Most damningly, there are settlements being established in the lushest and most life-bearing regions of my back hair; I think I can make out a general store being constructed on the steppes of my left shoulderblade.

By further eschewing all desire to get laid and instead focusing only on getting drunk and eat late-night pizza tonight, this all adds up to one thing: I’m going to meet the woman of my dreams this evening.  It’s been nice knowing you all.  It’s about time for me to settle down. 

(Of course, said woman will be horrified by my excessive hairiness and I will probably accidentally burn her with my pizza, but let’s meet her first and worry about that later.)

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I never thought I was a marketing genius or even a very smart man.  But now I know this for sure because, despite this site having hundreds of thousands of visitors and maybe 30 million hits since its inception, I’ve been blown away by how many of you have ordered "Drink Until You Shit!" shirts.  I was expecting to sell anywhere for zero to four shirts to y’all (closer to zero) and we’ve gotten considerably more orders than that.

(I also find endless enjoyment in the fact that people from all over the country and Canada, the UK, Ireland, Germany and the Philippines (!) will be wearing shirts from our pub crawl.  I mean, wow.)

(Speaking of, for those international peeps that have contacted me about ordering shirts or those who I haven’t contacted yet, we need to discuss shipping.  Because I don’t think it’s $2.)

If you haven’t ordered a shirt yet and want one, you should do so asap.  Not just because they’re selling, but because I will probably be bored with this whole thing in the next four days or so.

For those Philly peeps, if you want to pick up a shirt, you can do so at Mick-Daniel’s Saloon at 2nd & Snyder in South Philly Tuesday and Wednesday nights from 7pm to 9pm.  Ask for David – he’s co-founder of the tour and will take care of you.  Have a drink, too – it’s a nice place.  But please, get the shirts as soon as you can, since we will most likely sell out.

But really, you guys who have ordered have made me very happy and warm inside.  Our little drinking tour is all grown up and I’m damn proud.  Also, maybe now I’ll get my ass in gear and offer some other things for sale so as to continue with my expensive habits and fine living.  Or maybe my days as entrepreneur will end when the shirts run out and I’ll go back to begging you guys for money on my birthday (which, mark your calendars, is July 17).

Yeah, the begging sounds right.     

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I am notoriously bad at naming characters and am in the process of starting to create something new.  I needed a name for a female character, which is difficult enough for me, but I also didn’t want to give her the name of any girl I’ve slept with or dated, lest these ex-lovers think the character was inspired by her.  But by disqualifying the names of all my ex-lovers, I’m ruling out, like, five different girls names.  Holy crap that puts me in a bind.  
 
So I sent an email to a bunch of friends who know of my naming problems, explaining the situation and the character and asking for suggestions.  My old roommate Brian fired an email back to me immediately that said:

Celeste, chloe, brianna. don’t know why, these just came to mind.

For those of you who are non-perverts, it may seem like Brian was trying to earnestly help by offering some suggestions.  And, in fact, he was earnest in these suggestions.  But do you know why these names just popped into Brian’s mind?  Because they are all the names of adult film stars. 

I called Brian as soon as I read his email and pointed this out to him and he was shocked at its psychological implications.  I asked him for a name of a woman and what he immediately came up with was names of women who get paid to eat semen and get doubly penetrated.

This, dear readers, is why Brian and I are friends.  And yes, this little anecdote will make it into a wedding toast/his eulogy. 

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[The following was written not to try to make you laugh but rather to appease my rage.  Thank you.]

A buddy and I went to Swift this week for a couple of after work pops.  It’s an ok place, kinda douchy on the weekends but not bad during the week, and it has an extensive beer list. 

Anyway, I paid for all the beers because I’m a nice guy and we had at least 10 pints between us, probably 12.  And we’re talking fancy beers here, so the pints were $6 or $7 each, adding $1 per pint for tips.  We sat there for about three hours, getting drunk, ordering beer after beer, tipping each time.

Not once did we get a free round.

I know that NYC isn’t a great place for buy-backs, but this was fucking ridiculous.  We were there on a Tuesday night when the place was not crowded in the least.  I spent at least $70, probably more, tipping on every drink.  I even went to the same bartender each time, so it’s not like I was ordering from multiple people.  But this fucking clown, on a slow Tuesday night when I was ordering from him only and tipping each round, did not get us back with one free round.

Please, friends and readers, if you love me at all, boycott Swifts.  I am a nearly professional drinker with many years experience in NYC, and never before did I feel so rebuffed than I did by this bartender.  You’re not missing anything anyway; you can find an equally impressive beer list at a dozen places nearby that don’t have bankers, beer snobs and assholes like me crowding the joint. 

I mean, fuck.  One free beer out of seven is not too much to ask.  Fuck Swift and that bartender.

(I’d better move to something happier before I ruin my weekend.)     

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I have not seen this show (The Flight of the Conchords) yet, but it’s waiting in my Tivo to be viewed.  I’ve heard great things and if the following clip is any indication, methinks I will enjoy it.

[youtube]N7vgY0yEs9Y[/youtube]

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Six Songs

"You Make My Dreams Come True"  Hall & Oates
In the canon of Hall & Oates hits, this song gets lost. Think about it – if I asked you to name five Hall & Oates songs, you’ll give me some combination of "Maneater," "Private Eyes," "Out of Touch," "Rich Girl" and "Your Kiss Is On My List" (and "I Can’t Go For That" might be in there as well).  But this one is just as beautiful and wonderful as any song they’ve ever created.  Not only that, Daryl Hall is simply going for it in that first verse; how many notes does he hit when he sings the word "flame" the second time? and what about the range he displays when he sings "I can’t explain?"  This verse may, in fact, be Daryl Hall’s finest vocal performance.  And that is saying a lot, my friends.  Let us celebrate.  

"Effect and Cause"  The White Stripes
I gotta say: I’m very, very disappointed with the White Stripes new album, Icky Thump.  Angry, even – I was out with friends this week talking about my disdain for the album and I felt myself on the verge of getting violent.  First, the song "Icky Thump" is one of the worst and stupidest songs I’ve ever heard.  Please, do not think I am using any understatement when I say this.  What the fuck are those lyrics?  "Icky thump, get drunk, you punk, move junk" blah blah blah.  It’s like a bad rap song.  And then these lines – "Well Americans, what, nothing better to do?/Why don’t you kick yourself out – you’re an immigrant too!" – I mean, I cringe when I hear that.  Jesus Christ, Jack.  You’re not Bono.  Leave the political garbage to Neil Young, the rapping to Jay-Z, and focus on rocking the fuck out.  God damn.

[And don't get me started on "Rag and Bone" - I'm not sure if that's a song or an Adam Sandler skit. ("You don't want these things? We can use 'em! Meg and I can use 'em! Just give it to us! We'll give it a home!") Good lord.  And "Conquest?"  Can we get serious here please?  Rock is not a joke, Jack, you big jerk.]

Anyway, [taking deep breath] this is a very good song.  No, it doesn’t rock, but it’s very catchy and very clever.  At after listening to this album, I’ll take catchy and clever over some of the "rockers" on there any day.

I will not give up on this album because this band is dear to me, so let’s hope I get turned.  Because right now, it doesn’t look good.  

"The Bucket"  Kings of Leon
God, this band is fun.  Another great summer song, especially if you’re riding around in the back of a pickup truck drinking cans of PBR.  Or sitting in your apartment with the TV and lights off finishing a post before you go out and drinking PBR.  Either one.

"Rough Gem"  Islands
I still honestly don’t know if I love or hate this song.  When I listen to it, I kinda feel like a pederast.  Read into that what you will. 

"Whiskey River"  Willie Nelson
Speaking of pederasts, I haven’t had whiskey in a while because it was a bit of a bad scene for Uncle Jason.  But really, how can anything be bad that inspires such beautiful lyrics:

Whiskey River take my mind
Don’t let her memory torture me
Whiskey River don’t run dry
You’re all I’ve got – take care of me

God, that makes me proud to be an American.  And a drunk.  Both.  It’s a versatile song. 

"Leave A Light On For Me"  Belinda Carlisle (not on iTunes; their loss)
Yes, I realize that this is the second (or possibly third) Belinda Carlisle song that I’ve recommended on here.  But guess what?  I’m in love with her.

[youtube]qJOjLoOD6i0[/youtube]

There, I said it.  So there’s that.  I bet if the person you were in love with was a musician, you’d recommend his/her songs, too.  Now quit judging.  It’s really starting to piss me off.

[Have a good weekend.]