Broke But Still Drinking

Stolen Domain

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Fri, 06 May 2011 09:45:00 +0000

I no longer own the domain name brokebutstilldrinking because someone bought it out from under my nose. Actually, it expired over the holidays and I was too busy partaking in holiday cheer to renew the domain. I looked over the new website and it's actually pretty strange because the domain name is completely irrelevant to the stuff which is published. I guess they thought they would get some free traffic...the jokes on them - good luck with that. I thought about finding a new domain but I don't really give a shit. I'll just have to rely on the old faithful blogger account.

Severe drooling problems and adult diapers

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 11:42:00 +0000

I don't know what in the hell is wrong with me. As a child I never thought I'd be the guy who woke up drenched in my own drool. I feel like at some point in the night a whale swims into my dreams and unleashes its blow hole into the direction of my pillow. My neck, my beard, the collar of my t-shirt all become victims of the slow leak that continues throughout the night. It would be one thing if the sludge creeping down my chin smelled like bubble gum or candy canes, but it does not.

I looked into some possible solutions and it seems I may suffer from sort of nasal congestion and this forces my mouth to search for an alternative source of oxygen. My mouth becomes the grand canyon of the bedroom as soon as I drift to sleep. I don't even want to think of the amount of spiders who have come to my mouth for shelter, only to find themselves heading down my throat hours later. Maybe this is why I no longer wake up hungry in the mornings.

I could head off to the store to buy some drool bibs, but then I'd have to borrow a child from someone, maybe my niece will do. Maybe the easier solution is to wait for some mother to leave her child's bag unattended and help myself to a few products.

There has to be an answer, and the answer is not for my fiance to throw my pillows off the bed each morning, "Those things smell disgusting!"

I hope this isn't a sign for things to come. I don't want to be a guy in diapers. Who will change my diapers?

A vodka enema

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Sat, 06 Nov 2010 12:42:00 +0000

I was at the bar last night and 1000 Ways to Die played on the television. The bartender mentioned an episode where a man died from shoving a bottle of vodka up his ass and I immediately started laughing. I laughed at the thought there actually was an episode on the topic or if the network would actually broadcast such an episode on tv.

"It makes sense because your ass doesn't have a gag reflex so it doesn't know when to stop chugging so you'd probably die from alcohol poisoning," Otis O'Flanningan said, entertaining the fact that people in the world are shoving bottles of vodka up their asses.

"You two are insane. Why would someone want to shove a bottle of vodka up their ass?" I asked.

"I think he wanted to get a buzz quicker. A woman shoved a bottle of vodka up her husband's ass and he ended up dying," the bartender said and flicked her over her shoulder, as if this is everyday bar conversation around these parts.

"Who would want to get a buzz that quick?" I said - looking to Otis O'Flanningan who was hunched over the bar laughing and trying to keep his crutches from falling away from the bar.

"Well Bear Grylls drank dirty water through his ass because he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it down," he said.

"So now your asshole doubles as a water filtration system?" I said laughing.

"No but it can help you absorb water that you otherwise couldn't swallow," he replied.

I couldn't help it, even though I didn't want it on my Blackberry's search history, I had to look and so I Googled shoving a bottle of vodka up your ass. I think the responses on some of the forums were just as funny as the thought of someone drinking vodka through their sphincter:

Anyone asking such a question must be suffering from severe mental retardation.

One things for certain, nobody will be asking to sip from your bottle.

ROTFLMAO

These weren't the expert opinions I was looking for but it's probably best that the question remains a mystery to me. I don't think I want to know about people drinking vodka through their asses.

Don't place blame

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Wed, 22 Sep 2010 01:37:00 +0000

A man was standing outside of his foreclosed home with a case of empty beer bottles, playing out the memories of a recent and bitter divorce in his mind.

"Yur'd da reason I don't av a wife," he said, smashing the 1st empty beer bottle off the wall.

"Yur'd da reason I don't av a car," he said, smashing the 2nd empty beer bottle against the wall.

"Yur'd da reason I don't av any friends," he said, smashing the 3rd empty beer bottle against the wall.

He reached into the case and discovered a sealed and full bottle of beer.

"Step aside my friend, I know you weren't involved."

Fake Betting

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 14:40:00 +0000

It's about that time of year again, college football has arrived and I really want to make the games interesting without costing myself an apartment or vehicle. I'll call up one of the bookies and go through my typical song and dance.

Bookie: What do you want?

Me: I want to bet on these games.

Bookie: Ten dollar bets again? You don't pay anyways.

Me: Let's make it 1 dollar bets this year and I don't expect to pay or get paid.

Bet against me and you'll make a fortune.

My picks:

Notre Dame -10½ over Purdue

BYU -1 over Washington

NC +9½ over LSU

Pic of broken file in root canal

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 23:40:00 +0000

You can see the broken file sticking out of the root on the left.

I was having problems with my teeth last year and finally decided to go to the dentist. I didn't have insurance so I knew any news would be bad news because my dead presidents were about to loose quite a few members.. I asked my mother who I should go see.

"Well, who's your dentist?" she asked.

"What do you mean? You know I've always gone to Dr. Clark," I said.

"Chad! Dr. Clark has been retired for 14 years."

"It's been that long? No wonder I'm having problems with my teeth."

Apparently the rest of my family had taken the retirement of our family dentist a lot better than me and moved on to new and younger dentists, but I'm not as easily talked into letting someone new play with my mouth. I finally agreed to see my father's dentist.

It was a lot different than I remembered. These new dentists had suction devices and rinsing with water and spitting into a bucket had become a thing of the past so I already grew concerned at how much this suction service was going to cost me.

Long story short, I needed two root canals and I was given an estimate of $3000 or I could have them both pulled for $400. I was going to have them yanked but my family convinced me that teeth were important and that I should try to hang on to as many as possible.

I paid $700 out-of-pocket for the first root canal and then my new job provided me with dental insurance and my expenses were cut down some. I ended up having the other root canal and crown done and it cost me about $700. The out-of-pocket tooth wasn't crowned because I was having problems with it. My dentist opened it back up and tried cleaning the root canals a little better but to no avail. It was about 8 appointments (I think the dentist was milking my insurance co) and close to $2000 later and my tooth was still hurting.

"I think there may be a broken file in one of the canals and that's why you're still having pain," said my dentist, "and I'm going to send you to a specialist I know to take a look at it."

"Will I have to pay for that?" I asked.

"You'll have to pay for the visit and see what your insurance will and will not cover," she explained.

I was pissed. Why am I responsible for paying for her mistake? I stormed out of the office and called my mother bitching. She told me I should have gone to her dentist from the get go and said to go see her specialist and not bother seeing the dentist's recommended specialist. I did go see the specialist my mother recommended and she said it didn't look like a broken file but it looked like the tooth was fractured. The specialist called my dentist and recommended she put in a tighter compound and see how that works out. Thankfully the specialist was nice enough not to charge me for the visit. I decided I was going to hold off on having the tooth finished because I was going to wait until my insurance was back to covering the rest of the treatments.

It had been about three months since the last visit to the dentist and I couldn't take it any longer. My tooth was killing me and I could no longer take the pain anymore. I was at work the other day and called my dentist during lunch break. I wanted to tell her to just pull the thing out because I wasn't giving her anymore money. Conveniently the dentist was on vacation for the week so I had to call on my mother once again. She called and made me an appointment with the oral surgeon she had seen in the past. He was able to squeeze me in the same and I left work early and made my way to the surgeon's office. Three shots of Novocaine, some very firm twisting and pulling and the tooth was finally extracted from my face.

"How about that," he said and held up one of the roots. "Looks like there was a broken file in your root canal."

Son-of-a-bitch. That stupid dentist botched my root canal and I had to pay another $200 to have the $700 dollars worth of worked pulled out of my mouth. I'm pissed. I've google searched broken files in root canals and it seems to be a very big occurrence in dentistry. How can these crooks get away with this bullshit? Most forums say you can't do anything because you sign paperwork stating that root canals are not an exact science and dentists aren't accountable. I wonder what would happen if the rest of the world operated this way.

Prostate Exam somewhere...

"Mr. Johnson, we're going to put this instrument up your rectum but we're going to need you to sign this form because we can't guarantee will get this instrument out of your ass once we get it up there."

Pet Groomer somewhere...

"I'm here to pick up Rover."

"Ahh, Rover is dead."

"What!! He was only getting a haircut."

"Yeah but the intern had him in the tub and forgot to turn off the water and Rover drowned. Sorry about your loss. We have some strays out back if you want to go have a look. We can give you one for twenty bucks."

Making adult decisions

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 13:58:00 +0000

I'm not known for making adult decisions but something happened over the weekend and I actually made an adult decision for one of the few times in my life. I was recently offered a new job and it's actually a professional job, so I'll be working in a professional environment for the first time in nine years. I don't know if my brother was as happy about the news, being I would no longer be working the front desk at the salon and practicing my skills as a shampoo boy, I'm sure it was a sad day for the women patrons as well.

I decided I should take a vacation before I started my new job in the city, so I called up some of the old tree guys in North Carolina to see what was happening down there and tell them of my plans for a visit.

"Come on down, Plinky." I earned the nickname Plinky because I used to takes bottles of Pelinkovac to them back from my visits to PA.

"Get down here, Plinky. We're actually going deep sea fishing in Charleston, SC for the weekend and we already rented a fishing boat and hotel room so the trip's already covered," my old boss explained.

"Ok, but how much do I have to chip in?" I asked.

"Not much. I know how big of a cheap ass you are and we won't make you throw in too much," he explained.

A cheap vacation is exactly what I had in mind before starting my new job so I made quick arrangements to get down south. I told my brother I needed him to find someone to fill in for me because I was leaving to go on vacation. I pretty much had my bags packed in an hour and I was out the door and on my way down to North Carolina to meet up with my old coworkers, where we would leave in the morning for Charleston, SC.

I was in my car and headed down south on interstate 79 when my phone rang, "Are you on your way?" my former boss asked.

"Yup. I just left. I'll be in town around 12:15 tonight so have some beer ready," I said.

"We'll have more than beer ready. We bought all kinds of mushrooms and cocaine so the weekend is going to be killer," he said.

"Really? Sounds great," I said reluctantly.

I immediately had a bad feeling from that point on. I stopped working for my boss years ago and started my own tree business because there was too much drug use at his company and too many missed paychecks, so I didn't want to be associated with that lifestyle anymore, especially since I was starting a new job in less than two weeks. I had a sense of foreboding for the next three hours and I kept thinking I should just turn around, even though I kept pushing further south.

I made it all the way to Beckley, WV and decided this trip was a bad idea. I didn't want to risk getting pulled over or something along those lines and getting some kind of drug charges against me, so I went through a 2 dollar toll booth, drove a mile down the road, turned around and paid 2 more dollars to head back up north. My old boss called and asked me my location and I told him I never left and that I was still back in Pittsburgh. He was in disbelief and hung up the phone.

I had driven exactly 7 hours and paid $6.50 in tolls to not go on vacation. I called my girlfriend and explained my situation and she said, "Wow! You're actually making big boy decisions."

"Well don't think this means I'm not going on vacation. I'm going on vacation in the apartment, so I don't want to be bothered. I'm planning on sitting on the couch, watching tv, and drinking beer and I don't want to be bothered."

"So what will be different from this weekend and the past 4 weekends," she asked.

"This is an official vacation. Just like the vacation Al Bundy took on Married with Children, the one where Al sectioned off a piece of the living room and Peg, Kelly and Bud had to leave him alone," I explained.

"Sounds great. I can't wait," she said.

And that's exactly what I did, I sat on my back deck with a couple of buddies and went fishing for a beer buzz.

Baby for beer

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 18 May 2010 16:22:00 +0000

The tough times of the economy are making people do pretty crazy things, or this guy is just an inbred who can't get a job and come up with 5 bucks to buy some beer. Now I've traded an old tv for a case of beer but I've never tried trading a baby for beer.

Matthew Brace, a 24- year-old man, was accused of trying to swap his baby for two 40 ounce beers at a Chicopee gas station in Massachusetts.

Come on, dude, you could have gotten at least a keg of beer for a baby.

Russians make pirates disappear

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Fri, 07 May 2010 15:24:00 +0000

I was anxiously awaiting to see how the Russians would handle the pirates who hijacked one of their vessels off the Somalia coast this week and they did not disappoint. I knew they wouldn't pussyfoot around and negotiate like some of the other countries.

Word from their Defense Ministry Spokesmen is they used a famous fishing method known as the "catch and release" but nobody is quite sure as to the current whereabouts of the pirates. At what point and where were the pirates released? Nobody knows because the Russians really haven't said what happened to the pirates.

I've seen a lot of magicians over the years and they never reveal the secrets of the disappearing act, so why should the Russians?

Well played, mother Russia...well played.

Old man shows fence little mercy

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 15:04:00 +0000

An otherwise peaceful day was interrupted today when an elderly gentlemen crashed through the fence in the parking lot across the street. One of the salon's client's walked in and said she witnessed the accident and asked the man if he needed any assistance, only to be told, "Mind your own business, lady," and the man walked off down the street.

Bank employees and police emerged onto the scene and were baffled to find the car unoccupied and the fence's assailant nowhere to be found. We asked the witness if she could give a brief description of the man and she said, he's about 6 foot tall, probably in his late 80's or early 90's and has slicked back white hair. I recommended we start our search at all local pharmacies when another client suggested the man may be drunk.

"Well, he couldn't get very far because he doesn't walked very fast," the witness said.

"So he was a pretty friendly old man?"

"He was very mean and seemed to have no regard for the fence or any surrounding vehicles."

It was later determined that the man responsible for the accident was late for a dentist appointment and didn't want to miss his teeth cleaning. People, we don't need this deranged individuals driving around on our streets. What if it was your fence and your parking lot thrown to the wayside for a set of sparkling teeth? These type of people should be locked up.

How to fill out 2010 census form

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 13:50:00 +0000

The 2010 Census forms are due today. I watched mine sit on the counter and collect dust as I used it to jot down phone numbers, email addresses and future food orders. I'm not a big believer in filling out the census, even though it's apparently against the law to refuse to send the thing back. Against the law, really? I read an article and found it costs the government 41 cents if people mail it back, but it will cost them over $50 dollars to send a census taker to your home, which I've heard they will actually do. Now who wants to spend time with a government official if you don't have to.

I decided to do my part and let big brother know exactly who lives at my apartment, and that's a family of 4 year old Puerto Ricans. That's right. I filled the thing out in my best child's handwriting, making sure to mark multiple x's so the census worker will be forced to work overtime. Good luck with deciphering the letters to my name and the phone number because I couldn't read it after I finished.

I also attached a note and let them know I'm looking forward to all the federal funds coming my way.

Thank you Big Brother.

Scary Neighbor Laws

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 15:02:00 +0000

Today someone mentioned to me how their daughter lives next door to one of my friends, and then she told me how he's a pretty scary person to have as a neighbor. My friend is rather large and his appearance implies a very cantankerous disposition.

"I agree. I wouldn't want to live next door to him," I said.

"He's always outside with his dog, and he doesn't look very approachable," the woman explained.

"I wouldn't approach him," my brother said, "he'll never stop talking if you start up a conversation with him," he continued.

"Really! He doesn't look at all friendly," she explained.

"I'd want him out of my neighborhood. You should start a petition to have him removed from the neighborhood," I said.

She laughed and I thought, why not? Why must people live next door to those they find unacceptable in their neighborhoods? I'm sure her daughter paid good money for her home and she shouldn't have to look out her window and see my friend, and his unkempt, sloppy body walking around in the backyard and walking past huge mounds of dog shit. I know my friend and I guarantee he doesn't pick up any of his dog shit, unless he's using the bottoms of his shoes to do so.

I wonder if I can do anything to have my friend removed from her neighborhood. I'm sure I would be rewarded monetarily because her property value would go through the roof. Maybe I'm onto something. I wonder if there's a bad neighbor or scary neighbor law of some sort. They don't let people put cars on cinder blocks in front of their homes so why should weird looking people be allowed to roam freely. At least make people like my friend stay indoors.

Commit crimes in poor neighborhoods

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Thu, 25 Mar 2010 13:43:00 +0000

I'm working for my brother again so I only travel about 3 miles to work everyday and I get to see all three classes of people in a short drive; poor, middle and rich. I also associate with the three because I drink in a poor neighborhood, live in a middle class neighborhood, and work in a rich neighborhood. I guess you can say I'm a man of all the people.

I sit at the front desk, watching as three cop cars surround a minor traffic accident. I walk to the bank and make change for a 100 and discuss the situation with the bank tellers.

"That should keep the boys in blue busy for a while. This town hasn't seen this much action in some time. I wonder if they'll throw that guy up against his car," I said.

Looking out the window towards the scene of the accident. "You mean the 65 year old man?" The teller asked.

"Why not?" I said.

The other teller intervened, "I wouldn't be surprised if the accident makes the paper."

"Probably will."

And it probably will and this got me thinking. How can two towns, only 3 miles apart, be so different from eachother? There are police pursuits happening in my town. This is a story from my local paper and I went to school with this kid.

Times Online -A Leetsdale man with an extensive criminal record in Allegheny and Beaver counties faces new charges after local police said he led them on a car chase early Sunday from Aliquippa into Ambridge and then fled on foot through the borough while displaying a stolen handgun.

Christopher Hendon, 32, of 30 Ohio River Blvd. has been charged with reckless endangerment, reckless driving, drunken driving, driving while under license suspension, being a habitual offender for driving with a suspended license, carrying an unlicensed firearm, being a convicted felon not to possess a firearm, receiving stolen property, fleeing police and several traffic violations.

According to court documents, the incident started around 4 a.m. when Aliquippa police attempted to pull Hendon over for driving through a stop sign at Kiehl Street and Highland Avenue. Instead, Hendon fled onto Route 51 southbound at a high rate of speed and across the Ambridge-Aliquippa Bridge into Ambridge, disobeying traffic signals and stop signs as he raced ahead of police cruisers, police said.

Police reported Hendon drove the wrong way onto one-way Glenwood Avenue, finally wrecking into a curb and jumping out and running away. Officers said he was running so fast that he slipped out of his shoes.

As he fell at one point, Hendon pulled a loaded pistol out of his pocket, losing the magazine from the handgun, police said, and kept running with the gun in his hand. Later in the foot chase, Hendon tossed the gun onto the roof of a building in the 300 block of Duss Avenue, police said. Officers recovered the gun, which had been reported stolen from Kittanning, Armstrong County.

Police said that when they caught him, Hendon smelled of alcohol, had glassy, bloodshot eyes and slurred his speech. He refused to consent to a blood-alcohol test, police said.

When police ran Hendon’s record, they discovered that he has been accused at least five times of driving even though his license is suspended for previous DUIs and that he is not permitted to have a firearm.

Hendon already was awaiting trial on drug charges from Pittsburgh and Monaca and a harassment charge from Aliquippa.

Hendon was sentenced in September 2002 to serve two to four years in prison for the statutory rape of a 12-year-old Harmony Township girl in 1999. Also, he was sentenced to two to four years’ imprisonment in June 2001 in an October 2000 robbery in Rochester.

About 10 years ago, in February 2000, Hendon was acquitted by an Allegheny County jury of shooting 31-year-old Kevin North of Ambridge to death on a car ride between Pittsburgh and Ambridge on May 3, 1999, and dumping North’s body in the Oakland section of the city.

How can two towns - so close - be so far away? If you want to break the law move to my town, because we have a 20 plus strike policy. Don't even think about committing 21 crimes in this town, buddy, or we'll lock you up and throw away the key.

What health reform means to me

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 18:07:00 +0000

After the landmark health care legislation passed by the President I've decided to make some big changes in my life.

1. I'm not planning on working too hard because I don't want to make enough money and be required to pay my share of the money into health care. I'm opting to do just enough to stay under the poverty threshold so I can get my stuff given to me by the country. Why work hard for health care when I can have it for free. Forget owning a home because the IRS can come after it when I refuse to buy my own health coverage. You can't take what I don't have, therefore I'll only working for money paid to me under the table.

2. Ending all physical activity and exercise of any sorts, and starting to drink a lot more. Why? Because insurance companies are no longer allowed to ban me for bad behavior, therefore I'm now burdening the rest of you with the financial responsibility of my poor decision making. Smoking? Why not, let's give that a go too. Fast food? Bring it on! Let's get those arteries clogged up because I can just walk right into any hospital and demand service, after all, I am entitled. I'll bet I can even jump ahead of the guy whose been working hard all his life. Why not, now I'm just as important as him.

3. Try and collect unemployment because it lasts like 2 years nowadays. Free money and free health care? Now that's the American dream.

Intervention at the bar

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 16:22:00 +0000

I was at the bar last week with a buddy of mine and decided it was the perfect place and time to have an intervention with him. With my seven weeks of sobriety, even though I bailed on my bet, I somehow feel I gained a sense of arrogance, or expertise, with the whole sobriety thing.

"You need to stop drinking so much," I said.

"But you called me down here to meet you," he defended himself.

"I called you down here to drink a few beers with me. I don't want to sit and watch you drink 12 to 15 shots while I'm sitting here with you," I explained.

"So you're calling me a drunk???" He asked.

"That's what I'm saying. You need to get your act together," I explained.

"But you drink," he said, speaking with a tone of disbelief.

"I drink beer. I'm not throwing down 15 shots on a Sunday afternoon. You need to stop this shit," I said.

"So what are you saying I should do?"

"I'm going to help you get your life back on track. We need to get your body healthy and then we need to get your mind healthy. I'm picking you up to go running tomorrow because you're getting fat and I never thought I'd see you get fat."

"If I didn't know you, I'd punch you in the face," he said and I believed him because he tends to get in quite a few barroom brawls.

"I'm just giving you a little tough love and I don't care if you get pissed at me."

So we decided I'd be his new life coach and I was going to start getting him back in shape. We agreed to meet up the next day to go jogging, talk to my old landlord about getting him a new apartment and ask him about a job.

The next day Otis O'Flannigan called and asked, "How did day one of mentoring go?"

"Not very good. I had some errands to run and pulled a no show. Hey, I never said this was going to be easy. It's a work in progress."

Men buying tampons

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 00:31:00 +0000

I made the mistake of asking my girlfriend if she needed anything from the store today, and she told me she needed tampons and I told her she can forget about it. I told her there is no way she really needs tampons and that she's just messing with me. She insisted and said, "Everybody knows they're not for you so what's the big deal?"

"Well, I'm going to Costco and I don't feel like lugging around an industrial sized box of tampons," I said.

I've never in my life purchased any feminine menstrual products and I didn't need my first outing making me look like I'm coaching a women's sports team and getting them ready for a long road trip. Maybe a small box I could hide under my big box of oatmeal but where would I hide a big box of tampons? I told her I'd see and she told me what kind to get, which also sucks because now, not only do I have to buy tampons, but I have to get a certain kind, eliminating my plan of closing my eyes and knocking the closest box into the shopping cart.

Of course, I bought everything on my shopping list then made a few passes through the soap aisle and tried peaking over to see if I could spot the proper tampons. I kept looking to the tampons and then to the check out lines. I needed to make sure there wasn't a long line that would require me to stand with the tampons too long. I needed to treat these things like a bomb about to explode within minutes, and move it out of the store as quickly as humanly possible.

I grabbed the things and buried them under my frozen fruit and cans of tuna. I spotted an older gentleman working a checkout and made my way towards him. I chose the older man because he's probably purchased his share of tampons and he's the least likely to judge. If all the registers were being worked by college kids, my girlfriend would be stuffing toilet paper down her pants because I would have bailed.

The man rang me up and the total came to 131 dollars. Shit! The damn tampons sent me over my budget. I only took 120 dollars with me. Now I have to make a quick decision and eliminate something from the bill and it can't be the tampons.

I smiled at the gentleman and said, "Can you take the garbage bags off the bill? I only brought 120 dollars with me and the tampons are a must. If I don't get the tampons, it won't be a good week."

I left with the tampons and immediately sent my girlfriend a text: You better enjoy those tampons because I had to dump the trash bags at the checkout counter because they sent me over my intended budget.

I swore I'd never in my life buy tampons and now I've become a little bitch. Maybe I need some tampons.

seven weeks of sobriety

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 20:10:00 +0000

My girlfriend bet me I couldn't stop drinking and I told her it wouldn't be a problem. I told her I needed some kind of reward to stop, a trophy at the end of the finish line of sorts, and after all my ideas for some type of sexual reward were shot down, we decided on a vacation destination of the winner's choice. I am going on my seventh week and it hasn't been much of a problem.

The bet is to stop drinking until St.Patty's day but I feel so good that I may go longer. I've found the biggest problem with my lack of drinking is finding things to do and this can be tough when the city is being dumped with 3 feet of snow. I workout every day and sometimes twice a day, I'm actually down to 183 lbs and I'm going to disappear if I keep burning all these calories without replacing them.

I found myself outside at seven in the morning on Saturday, shoveling snow and having no real game plan of where I was shoveling to. I just shoveled and shoveled until my shoulders and arms began to burn. I went back inside and drank another 3 or 4 cups of coffee; oh yeah, I'm heavily addicted to coffee right now, more so than I've ever been in the past.

I've been thinking over this whole blog thing and it's starting to make little sense, since I'm not drinking and I'm not really that broke anymore. I'm not saying I'm pressuring Trump to step down or anything but I'm no longer dumping change into the change counters in order to buy beer and snacks.

I also can't even bring myself to buy fast food anymore. I used to live on fast food and now I refuse to buy the stuff. I tempt myself by going through the drive thru but then I speed away with only a cup of coffee in my hand.

This whole sobriety thing is kind of weird but I'm feeling much calmer and the anger has dissipated.

*Pause*

Hold on, I'm going to kill this little bastard outside if he pisses on my porch again. See how far I can boot the pussy cat.

Just kidding.

Joining Jewish Friend Finder

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 16:13:00 +0000

I seem to treat certain friends as if they are omniscient. For instance, I only have one Jewish friend so I tend to think he knows everything there is to know about Jewish faith and customs, which I probably shouldn't, being he used to spend many nights in New York chasing overweight women and snorting paychecks up his nose.

My girlfriend works for a Jewish family so when I need to know if she has vacation days or not, I usually send him a text: Which holidays are the Jews celebrating this month? He'll laugh and then answer my questions.

The company next to my work went out of business, so I found myself rummaging through their dumpster. This isn't the first time I've gone dumpster diving and it probably won't be the last time. I'm just waiting to run into a Freegan one of these days.

Freegan: What are you doing here?!

Me: I'm shopping. The real question is - what are you doing here?

Freegan: I live here. Now beat it!

It was an old coffin company so I don't know what I expected to find in their dumpster, but I took a look anyway. I found and old, weather-beaten, brown box and picked it up. The contents spilled through the waterlogged cardboard and onto some other trash. I picked one up and removed the plastic wrap and found Jesus staring at me. Now who would throw away Jesus, I thought. I opened up the rest of the plastic wrappers and found old bronze crosses and multiple Star of David ornaments; this was obviously the work of an atheist. I collected my find and left the dumpster.

Now why did I take these? Well, I have connections in the flower business and I can put them to use in funeral arrangements, and that's exactly what I did. The floral shop owner told me he'd definitely use them. But what use did I have for the Star of David ornaments? The floral owner said he didn't have many Jewish customers so he probably couldn't use them.

I sent my buddy a text.

Me: I found a bunch of these Star of David coffin plaques. Do you want them?

Jewish friend: Why in the hell would I want those?

Me: Because you're Jewish.

Jewish Friend: Who gives a shit! Do you want me to send you everything I find with Jesus' face on it?

Me: That depends on whether or not it's worth anything.

Jewish Friend: I gotta go.

Me: Ok. I'll talk to you later.

He probably wishes I had more Jewish friends. Maybe I'll join Jewish Friend Finder.

a big cock

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 14:35:00 +0000

If I ever have a son and happen to witness a cat attacking a rooster, I'm going to stop and say, "Son, I hope you've learned an important lesson here."

"What's that dad?" He'll say.

"A big cock doesn't always get the pussy," I'll say with a smile.

I'd make a wonderful role model.

"Adorable" Adrian Adonis wrestling doll

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 16:28:00 +0000

I stopped by my mother's house yesterday and she asked me to get my old boxes out of her shed and I obliged. I couldn't believe all the stuff I found. It really brought back a lot of memories from my youth and I realized something, I was a little sports nerd as a kid. My biggest collectibles were always my WWF Superstars, the ones with the little posters under their feet, and I had around 70 or 80 of them. My nephew cleared out most but I did find my "Adorable" Adrian Adonis doll, still in the package. I remember keeping him in the package because he died in a car crash and I figured it'd be worth millions one day. Well, my blog starts with "broke" so I'm not sure how all of these collectibles have paid off.

I have Joe Montana starting lineups, still in the packages, and Topps sticker albums from 1982, when they cost only a quarter. Do you know the self-restraint it takes as a child to keep your toys in the package? It's unbelievable.

I have so many rookie cards, but I think most are worth nothing and can be placed next to the toilet to be used as wiping paper. Think of it, you could get some last minute stats before you discard the cards into the commode.

I still have boxes of Wheaties with the Stanley Cup Penguins on the front, wrapped in plastic, of course.

"Bo, you don't know diddley about collectibles!"

What will the garbage man take?

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 15:55:00 +0000

I noticed something unusual yesterday and stopped to gawk at garbage for a moment. I'm not sure what the borough's policy is on hauling away trash but I'm pretty sure most boroughs exclude large trees. I've lived in areas that will take away trees, if they are cut into three foot sections, but I'm pretty sure this doesn't fit into the category.

I stared at the trash and admired their creativity. I wondered if the family had ever worked for the mafia before, and if they had a hand in the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa. I played out the conversation between the homeowner and the trash man in my mind.

Trash Man: We can't take that trash bag.

Homeowner: Why not?

Trash Man: Because there's a tree in there.

Homeowner: I don't see a tree.

Trash Man: It sure looks like a tree.

Homeowner: It sure does but it's not.

Trash Man: I see a trunk and pine needles and I'm pretty sure I know what a tree looks like.

Homeowner: That's not a tree. It's an ornament.

Trash Man: That's a pretty big ornament.

Homeowner: You're telling me. You should have seen the tree.

If they get away with this I'll have to rethink what I throw in the trash. I wonder if you can simply cover things in trash bags and convince the trash company to haul it away. Maybe wrap an entire junked car in trash bags and push it out in front of the other garbage. Buy some property with condemed homes and spend the day wrapping the houses in garbage bags and telling the garbage man, "Yup, just take it away. I don't want the thing anymore. I'll look away if you want to put aside a little something for yourself."

Babysitting a fish

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 18:53:00 +0000

Today I was asked to babysit a fish, and I'm not talking about the drunk living down the street. I asked him how to get into his apartment to feed the thing and he told me to use a credit card as a key.

"Just feed him once every day or two. You can reward yourself with a beer from the fridge after each feeding," he said.

"You're gonna have one fat ass fish when you get back," I said.

He laughed and thanked me.

"Oh, where did you get that fish?" I asked.

He told me the name of the store and asked why.

"Because I may need to replace your fish before you get back," I said.

"Don't bother. If he dies, flush it so it doesn't stink up the apartment."

My friend has been waiting for his fish to die so he can finally get rid of the fish tank. All the other fish passed away years ago but this one is a fighter and refuses to go slowly into that good bowl.

Maybe I'll surprise my friend and restock his fish tank before he gets back from vacation.

Wow words for resumes

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 16:40:00 +0000

I didn't go out this past weekend and opted to stay in and work on my resume instead. My girlfriend got me a copy of Resumes for Dummies, because she knows me so well, and I decided to study the thing on every trip to the bathroom. You could probably spend an entire year in the bathroom trying to get through the entire book; it's as thick as Tolstoy's War and Peace and it's about as interesting.

The book taught me a very important lesson, pay someone to write your resume, but I'm way to cheap to fork over cash for such things. The book explains how the broad resume is a thing of the past and how companies want targeted resumes, basically, you need to readjust your resume for each and every job you're applying to. Who has time for this shit? I have a hard enough time writing the broad resume, let alone the plethora of targeted resumes.

I decided to do what every good resume writer should do and opened the page to Wow Words and then focused on the wow words for many skills, because I believe I am a man of many skills.

Wow words for many skills: accomplishment, achieved, adapted, adhered, allocated, appraised, arbitrated, arranged, articulated, assured, augmented, collected, communicated, composed, conceptualized, conserved, contributed, coordinated, demonstrated, dispensed, evaluated, executed, facilitated, forecast, founded, governed, guided, illustrated, improved, increased, initiated, integrated, interpreted, invented, launched, led, navigated, optimized, organized, originated, overhauled, performed, prioritized, promoted, proposed, reconciled, rectified, remodeled, repaired, reshaped, retrieved, solved, stimulated, streamlined, strengthened, trained, upgraded, validated, won, wrote.

Then I decided to stuff as many of these wow words into a summary of my working background as I possibly could. I figure it won't make much sense and they'll probably be so confused by the time they get through the thing, they'll forget everything they just read, and call me in for an interview.

Chad's Profile

I have solved many problems in my lifetime and I forecast more problem solving skills in the future. I've promoted and displayed strong business ethics throughout my career and adhered to these ethics. Accomplishment has been within my grasp and slipped through my fingers, but I'm assured it will not get away from me again. I've demonstrated a knack for conceptualizing what is important in today's business and strengthened these core values. If given the opportunity, I can be trained, reshaped and remodeled into the ultimate business man for your company.

This is sure to Wow any future employers.

The Yinzer Chick

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 15:16:00 +0000

I stopped by a local drinking establishment over the holiday break and knew immediately it was a mistake. I don't know why I go in these bars during the afternoons because this is when the older guys are sipping out of their tiny beer glasses. I know my type of crowd, if this is what I should even call them, won't be there until later in the evening. The problem is most people my age don't venture out until around 9 or 10 in the evening and this is when I want to be sitting on my couch, so I always walk in anyway and order a beer - knowing I'll wish I hadn't.

I ordered my beer next to some older gentlemen and started texting people my age to see if they wanted to hang out but everyone was busy. I tried to watch the bar's tv but it played some old western and I hate those old westerns. A bar visit in the afternoon around this place will often have you questioning why you even bother going out. It only makes you wish you were sitting on your couch, or dangling off the ledge of a skyscraper instead.

A couple of guys with hockey jerseys walked in and started talking about the Penguins. Great! This conversation should really get my mental juices flowing. These guys and the bartender were at least somewhat near my age so I eavesdropped on them to keep entertained for a while and it sure did.

The bartender, a typical yinzer girl - Pittsburgh sports gear, large jewelry, a penchant for the "F" word, and a self-proclaimed diva title - began talking about her love for seafood. Her boyfriend always takes her out for seafood no matter what the cost, I'm guessing Red Lobster.

"Yeah, he takes me to this place in Mt. Washington and the fish is so fucking good that you will never eat at Red Lobster again," she said.

Bingo! I had the chick pegged the minute the "F" bomb spewed from her mouth ten times in a matter of five minutes. I immediately sent a text to a few of my friends and quoted her exact words, you will never eat at Red Lobster again. Don't get me wrong, I love Red Lobster but everyone knows it is the poor man's nice restaurant so I don't know how you can compare any seafood restaurant to Red Lobster; it's like saying Bojangles has the best chicken you've ever tasted.

I counted backwards from ten, waiting for the Steelers talk to start immediately after the restaurant discussion ended.

"So I was out with all the Steelers last night," she began and I chuckled to myself, I'm sure this happened and one of them probably wanted to marry you.

"Najeh Davenport started talking to me and Santonio Holmes tried to sneak into the conversation," she continued as I continued to chug my beer. I needed out of the bar as fast as humanly possible.

I love these homely girls who think these players are out to "wife" them. I have come across at least 5 women who claim to have slept with Hines Ward and it's always the same bullshit.

I can't believe this is the herd of cattle men have to choose from around these parts. Places like Austin, San Diego, and DC get the prime beef and they send pigs assholes and lips to Pittsburgh so we can make hot dogs.

I know there are a lot of good women in Pittsburgh, but I don't think you'll find them at the local dive bars. You have to take dive bars for what they are and hope a good girl gets lost and staggers inside. Then try and kidnap her before another drunk takes notice and a huge fight ensues.

I drank one beer and went home.

And I know the women are thinking - look at the shit we get to choose from. It's like picking the cleanest turd.

Dreaming of David Bowie

noreply@blogger.com (Broke But Still Drinking) — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 17:42:00 +0000

I woke up this morning and made my normal trip from the bedroom to the bathroom, half asleep as I remembered to lift the seat and aim for the water. I stood at the toilet and tried to piece together what just happened. Did I really have a dream about David Bowie? I tried to think, but not hard enough to wake myself from the zombie-like state. I wanted to be able to fall asleep again and didn't want any strenuous thinking to wake me from my stupor.

I exited the bathroom and noticed my girlfriend hadn't left for work and was standing in the kitchen. I stopped for a brief moment, confusion on my face and mumbled out something.

"We just had drinks with David Bowie in some German bar," I said, perplexed.

"Cool. I like David Bowie," she said.

I went back to bed and tried to meet up with David again but somehow I ended up with some adolescent thugs who were trying to beat my ass and take my girlfriend. Boy, how a dream can take a wrong turn if you take a timeout for a bathroom break.

I talked to my girlfriend later and asked, "Did I say something to you next to the bathroom this morning."

"Yeah, you said we had drinks with David Bowie and I said that's cool because I like David Bowie," she replied.

"What do you mean you like David Bowie? Do you find him attractive or something? If I remember correctly, I believe you were hitting on David Bowie in the dream," I said.

"It's your dream. I like his music but that doesn't mean I find him attractive," she replied.

I don't understand how David Bowie is making his way into my dreams. I don't like his music, besides his Little Drummer Boy with Bing Crosby, and he's a strange looking man, so why am I dreaming about David Bowie? I need to fall asleep with something different on the television.