I came to a startling discovery about myself, that I think I’ve actually been aware of for quite sometime. Every single action that I take, whether good or bad, is somehow an attempt to get laid. Now I realized that I can’t control my mind a long time ago. It races constantly. It assesses the pros and cons of every situation that I come into contact with on a daily basis.

A lot of this are instant seconds of contemplation while others may drag out a little longer. Either way I’ve realized that I have hopes of getting laid by every action that I do. I think that every action we take affects thousands and thousands of other possible actions in the minutest of ways. Most of them no one could even fathom thinking of. Such as, you put in a dollar at the Starbucks tip jar, then the hot chick barista ends up leaving that dollar in her tip later that night at Denny’s where the old hag of a waitress buys her hot 19 year old daughter some lip gloss with the money. Later that week the daughter checks in to rehab and then ends up at a meeting when she has 30 days sober and is blowing you behind Oasis with that very same lip gloss on. This is of course an extreme example, but I believe that things go full circle a lot more than we realize.

Yesterday, I felt that I was doing a good deed. I was on my way to the gym when I noticed our token gay guy out front waiting for the bus.

At my halfway house it seems like we have a gay quota that we have to fill. There’s always one flamer. As soon as we got rid of the last one, they went out and brought one in. I swear it was like the very next day. Like their sitting on the shelf at the store or something.

Anyway, I’m leaving to go to the gym and I see him waiting on the bus. Immediately my mind starts going through its pro and con list. I roll down the window and yell to him that I’ll give him a ride. I’m not sure at what time the thought popped into my head. It almost seemed like it was while I was in mid sentence of offering the ride, I can’t really determine which happened first. Still I did think, now hot chicks love gay guys. Then my good deed for the little diva is going to filter back through the hot chick network, and their gonna just think I’m so great that they want to sleep with me right away. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t have done the good deed anyway, but the thoughts still go through my head.

After he pranced off to work, I was at the gym riding the bike just thinking about all the different things I do that have this elaborate plan of how their going to get me laid. Its staggering.

I have a Free Tibet sticker on my car for instance, not because I care about the stupid dam Tibetans, but because I think hot chicks will see what a great guy I am caring about a cause. I actually read up on the cause a little so I could be prepared if a girl ever quizzed me on it. As I was looking into the cause, I actually thought I was starting to care about Tibet. I can’t really be sure though, cause sometimes when your so good at being full of shit, you can even fool yourself.

The crazy part is, the things that actually do end up getting me laid turn out to be the things I didn’t think of at all. One time in Gainesville, I found out that I ended up getting laid just because I was wearing the most comfortable looking fleece at the time. I was out drinking with a bunch of people at the Swamp and a cold front had just come through that night. The temperature ended up dropping about 20 degrees in just a few hours. Being the amateur meteorologist that I am, I knew about the impending dip in temperatures and dressed accordingly. As the night ended some girl came up and asked to borrow my fleece because it was cold. She ended up going back to my house with me, and the rest was mediocre magic.

Later we became friends and she told me how that night she was just cold and looked around for whoever had the warmest looking coat on. The crazy part is I remember specifically that night that I put on these crazy pink argyle socks thinking how cool they were and showed that I was senstive, and that was going to get me laid. I didn’t even think about the dam fleece at all. It just goes to show how little I understand women.

I’ve also realized that when I have a girlfriend this all changes. I’m a pretty good guy deep down, and when I have a girlfriend I’m not out trying to get laid by anyone else. I’m not saying that I’ve been been 100% faithful, but it was never planned, I just sorta fell into it. So when I have a girlfriend, I can actually do good deeds just out of pure altruism. Thats gonna be pretty sweet. Now in recovery they tell you not to get into a new relationship in the first year. Right now I got about 6 months sober, so I’m still in that period. They also tell you however to help others. Its a double edged sword for me, because I can’t do both. The only way I can do good, just for the sake of doing good, is to be in a relationship. Without that, everything I do is to try and get laid. Its quite the situation to be in.

If anyone doesn’t know the story of Donte Stallworth by now let me give you a quick recap. Its pretty simple really, he was speeding down the road in Miami Beach early one morning in his Bentley when he struck and killed a pedestrian.

This pedestrian was 59 year old Mario Reyes, a crane operator who was just getting off work and trying to catch the bus. Stallworth ended up being legally drunk at the time, and got charged with DUI manslaughter. He was found guilty and sentenced to 30 days in jail. On top of this he got two years of house arrest, 8 years of probation and some other restrictions.

Now I know that I’m not the only one that thinks this sentence was extremely light. The craziest thing was that is was right around the time that Michael Vick was finishing up his sentence. Here was Michael Vick who served 18 months for fighting dogs, while Donte Stallworth only got 30 days for being drunk and killing someone. That means that fighting dogs must be 18 times as bad as killing an actual person. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big time dog lover, but I’m also fairly found of the human species as well. Actually that’s a lie, I think about 85 – 90 percent of humans are complete worthless. I however, do think even the most worthless among us deserves the right to live.

Donte Stallworth is in the news once again now, because he was looking for a special exemption to his house arrest that would allow him to go train for his return to football. As of now Stallworth is suspended indefinitely, but he is still officially on Cleveland’s roster. If you go by the 18 times standard from earlier, than Stallworth should be eligible to play again in about a month.

Stallworth’s petition to be able to train was granted. Despite the prosecutor’s objections. “The fact is that he’s presently not formally employed by the NFL,” said prosecutor Patrick Trese, who objected to the motion. “And absent him being formally employed by the NFL, he’s not in a position where I think it’s necessary for him to worry about those types of issues.” Now Stallworth will be allowed to leave his home 5 days a week to go work out at the local high school. I’m sure that Stallworth has a gym in his multi million dollar home, but I guess he needs the extra space to be able to run routes and catch balls.

It seems like Stallworth is getting treated like a diva here. He’s not even playing football right now, I think working out in a gym will be plenty to keep him into shape in order for him to one day return to the NFL. To get back to Vick, he was stuck in jail and he seems to be in playing shape just fine. I think it would be a whole lot easier for Stallworth at home.

I also should say that I have had a DUI conviction in my life. Thank god, I didn’t kill anyone, but it very well could have happened. Stallworth gave a blood alcohol reading of .126 at the time of the accident, mine was .225. Florida’s legal limit is .08. I don’t really remember anything about what happened. So that might make you think that I would lean easily on people that got DUI’s. However, this situation is just out of hand. I was lucky, I didn’t kill anyone. Mr. Stallworth wasn’t so lucky, and now he has to take responsibility for those actions.

His responsiblity it seems is that its going to be a major inconvience to his life and his pocketbook. He has expressed regret, but he does have a PR team and an agent coaching him on what he should say, so who knows how much of that is really sincere.

Stallworth said “If I ever so much as take a sip of alcohol and I get behind the wheel and drive after what had happened on March 14, I would be spitting on Mr. Reyes’ grave.” You would think this might scare him off drinking forever, but that isn’t the case as I gather from that statement. He’ll just remember to have a limo whenever he goes out drinking from now on.

Tipping is one of the policies of life we live with in our modern society. Its governed by these rules that when you look at them are simply baffling. How much to tip, when to tip? These are questions that could drive a man crazy.

These are the kinds of things that I stress about on a daily basis. Now that I don’t pass out every night, I have to grow through this strange process that civilians refer to as falling asleep. In those moments my mind races with all sorts of different things that happened that day. Did I play my cards right in this situation, or how could my entire life be impacted by this small decision I made.

I’ve found that a lot of those nights the subject of tipping comes up. No one, especially someone who cares so much about what other people think such as myself, wants to be labeled a bad tipper. That can affect you in so many ways, the possible ramifications are endless.

Why do does society deem that we tip certain members of society, but not others. Restaurants have it the best. In theory, tipping should be an extra reward that you give for good service. With waiters and waitresses however its just implied that they are going to receive a tip. They don’t get paid jack shit, because tipping is just an accepted custom with them. The level of service only determines how good the tip will be, and the fluctuation isn’t really that bad. If the service is horrible you leave 12% instead of 18% or such. Where’s their incentive to provide the excellent service, I don’t think that’s room enough.

It’s even crazier if you have a big group of people, then they put the tip right in for you. There’s no way around it. You would think that with a large group of people, the level of service would be even more important. Yet their tip is secured, the waiter definitely has no incentive here. I guess its just that they figure we are to ignorant to do basic math. If the numbers involved are too high, there’s no way these ignorant customers can figure it out. Is finding 20% out of $300.00 really that much more difficult than finding 20% out of $50.00. I don’t think so.

Yet people that work at say Taco Bell, we feel no need to tip. Do they do any less of a job than the chick at Denny’s that gets a tip, if they do its minuscule. Then you have places in the middle, Quizno’s for example puts a tip jar there so that you can add to it if need be. What makes Quizno’s that much different than KFC, there’s really no difference.

The one that drives me crazy is the one at Starbucks. They put that tip jar there and I always like to contribute. Sometimes I just toss the change, sometimes I put in a buck. The tricky part though is when to time your placement of the tip. What’s the point of giving the tip if they happen to look away right at the instance I toss my dollar in there. The hope there I think is that you’ll get the reputation of tipping, and then that’s gonna let me into the inner circle for secret benefits later on down the line. I’m the guy that always tips, so every once in awhile I figure their going to toss an extra extra shot into my frappuccino. Is that wrong? Does that defeat the whole purpose of tipping. Maybe they should put the tip charge at the pickup section so that you can toss something in if you think they’ve earned it. When you have to tip before service is rendered what barometer do you use.

One thing that I can’t stress enough though is not to go back into that tip jar. If your at Starbucks and pick a bad time, then you just have to live with it. If the instant you go to toss that dollar in, the hot emo chick turns to yell something at the coffee maker, that’s it your done. To then go back into the tip jar to get your dollar back is definitely crossing the line. Once it leaves your hand, its done. Remember that my friends.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that now pizza places that didn’t charge a delivery fee, have started charging one. So now do you just take that right off the top of the driver’s tip, or am I supposed to contribute my same usual tip amount. Here these dam places have slipped in an additional fee, and no one really causes that much of a fuss over it. It pisses me off. As someone who knows how to take care of his driver the right way, that fee is an insult.

That’s one thing I loved about Gainesville. That’s the only place I found where you could just assume that the delivery driver would be more than happy to take his tip in bong hits rather than money. Go Gainesville, you rock.

Last night in Los Angeles, the Dodgers mauled the Milwaukee Brewers 17-4. While an impressive victory, the win was overshadowed by what took place at the end and after the game.

It all started in the 7th inning when Manny Ramirez was hit by a pitch while the Dodgers had a nine run lead. Ramirez had an impressive game, breaking the longest RBI drought of his career with a HR and then also added a 2 run double.

In retaliation for the play with Ramirez, Dodgers reliever Guillermo Mota plunked Brewers slugger Prince Fielder in the 9th with 2 outs and the Dodgers very much in command. This is a routine that has been around since the dawn of baseball. You hit one of ours and we’re going to hit one of yours. When you hit our top dog, we’re going to come after your top dog.

Last year in the playoffs, Ramirez got hit and the Dodgers took a whole lot of flack for not retaliating. You could be sure that when it happened this year, something was going to happen. You have to have your star players back, its as simple as that.

Mota was ejected as you can expect. Mota turned and started walking to the dugout immediately after the pitch, he knows the routine. What made this extraordinary, was Prince Fielder’s reaction. He started going off. After the final out was made he was still yelling and started walking towards the Dodger dugout. He was restrained by teammates, but it still didn’t end there. After the game, Fielder went storming through the tunnels underneath the stadium trying to get to the Dodgers clubhouse. He made it to the set of doors that lead down a hallway to the clubhouse, but security didn’t enable him to proceed any farther.

I don’t know what Fielder was trying to prove, but his reaction was just insane. It wasn’t as if Mota was headhunting or anything, he hit Fielder in the thigh. If you don’t know what Prince Fielder looks like, let me assure you that it is quite a mighty thigh. Prince is the son of former MLB player Cecil Fielder and is built the same way. Hitting him in the thigh is like throwing a ball into a couch. I mean come on, the guy’s thigh is about the size of Delaware.

Another interesting aspect of this incident, is that Mota and Fielder were teammates on the Brewers last year. Maybe its all an inside joke between friends that none of us civilians gets. They sure seemed anything but friendly last night.

I think that maybe Fielder was just trying to light a fire under the Brewer’s ass. If this was his intention then that is perfectly fine. Ham it up as much as you want. The Brewers have been disappointing so far this season. After making the playoffs last year, more was expected from a team that currently sits third in their division and 5 games out of 1st place. I don’t really think more should have been expected though, after all C.C. Sabathia basically put this team on his back and led them to the playoffs on sure will last year.

On the other hand if Fielder was honestly that upset, he needs to grow up. This is baseball and that’s just a part of the game. The score doesn’t matter at that point. Its debatable whether the Brewers were throwing at Manny or not, I’d say probably not, but with the situation that happened in last year’s playoffs the Dodgers weren’t going to be taking any chances. I can imagine they would have been crucified in the papers today in LA if they had let Manny get hit again with no response.

It should be interesting to see what happens tonight, but I don’t think it really should be anything. Its part of the game and the teams should just move on. I sincerely hope that Prince was trying to provide a spark to a team after a lifeless effort. If not I can tell him to grow a set of balls you big pussy. It does seem like the biggest guys are the biggest crybabies a lot of the time. Grow up Mr. Fielder were not going to be treating you any different than any other star player. It’s not like your the spoiled King’s son, are you…Prince?

Right now I’ve got a little bit of a cold. Its nothing serious just a little congestion with a cough. As with any problem I know have to decide what my options are and how to attack this invisible menace. Back in the day I found that Oxycontin was very good at dealing with the common cold. Just take a couple and all your symptoms seem to go away. There’s really no time table on when to take more, I liked to go by my favorite physician’s orders of “take as necessary”.

Now that is no longer an option. Since I’ve been sober I found something that worked great was the Zicam Gel Swab. This basically consists of a q-tip in a tube filled with the gel Zicam and you wet the q-tip and then shove it up your nose. You rub it around in there and then after taking it out hold your nostril closed, and then repeat with the other nostril. This product was great on two fronts. First off it actually did a noticeable job in fighting a cold, and secondly it was great for a former cocaine addict because it had been so long since I shoved a drug up my nose. This time I’m actually putting something up there that’s good for me, how fantastic. I can’t wait till they come out with Zicam snort-able powder, that will be good shit.

Then something very bad happened a couple months ago. The makers of Zicam took the gel swabs off the market because of complaints that people who used them had lost their sense of smell. This is something that never happened to me, but I didn’t use them all the time. I imagine that these people that it happened too, must have been going through about 20 gel swabs a day. So typical of our country where a few nut jobs have to ruin the party for all of us.

Back to the present and I’m sitting here with still a half full box of the Zicam Gel Swabs, which I add are fairly expensive as a box costs like $15 bucks. I know that the Zicam will make me feel better, but its a recalled product. Do I dare be a rebel and use it anyway? That’s when it hit me of how ridiculous this all is. Here I am Mr. former heavy cocaine user and half gallon of bourbon a day drinker, worried about the possible ill effects of using a cold remedy. Its not the first time either, its like people lose their minds over these types of warnings, and don’t pay any mind to warnings about things that are a million times more serious. “Don’t smoke cigarettes, their proven to cause cancer”. Ah fuck that, by the time I’m old enough to get lung cancer their gonna have a cure for it. “Don’t use tanning beds, their also proven to cause cancer”. Whatever, just the risk I have to take to look this dam good. “Don’t drink or smoke while pregnant can cause horrible horrible things to happen to your baby”. All right, so I don’t have any experience in this one, but I know ladies cheat on it a little bit.

The same sort of thing also happened to me right around the same time as the Zicam recall, my Hydroxycut got recalled for causing damage to your liver. Hydroxycut was a workout/weight loss product that helped you to cut weight and burn more calories. I had been taking it for about 3 months, and I did notice that it was having an effect. Of course I went with the Hydroxycut Hardcore, cause if there’s a hardcore version of anything that’s the one that I’m going with no doubt. Then I found out about the liver damage, I immediately stopped taking it. This from the same guy who drank booze like it was going out of style all day every day, like that didn’t cause liver damage or something. I checked into rehab for the first time at age 26 and the doctor told me that I had the worst liver he’d ever seen on a 26 year old. I kinda took that as a badge of honor type compliment.

Now here’s Hydroxycut doing the same thing, and I instantly on hearing the news stop taking it. My roommate at the time, FEED STORE, says to me that he doesn’t give a fuck and he wants it. So I gave it to him and he said he’d throw me some cash that Friday when he got payed. Now I realize that I never got that money. FEED STORE has since moved out, but he’s still in town and doing well, in fact he came over yesterday. I am going to get that dam cash someday.

Its just crazy how certain warnings freak us out while those others we could care less about. Something as simple as wearing your seat belt which saves countless lives each and every year, I’d say isn’t done by about 50% of my friends. Yet tell people that a frozen dinner got recalled due to salmonella, and everyone is scared of it like its got the plague. Human beings are such crazy people. Fuck it, I’m taking the Zicam too, I’ve got balls of steel. EXTREME!!!!!!!!

The stuffed shirts up at The Princeton Review released their rankings of the top party schools recently, and my University of Florida came in second. God, I hate coming in 2nd in anything. The #1 school according to these rankings is Penn State University. Florida was #1 last year, so that means either we partied less or those dam Nittany Lions partied harder this year. Florida administrators are happy about it of course, but I think I can speak for all of our alumni when I say Fuck That.

I don’t understand how we could possibly lose out to the people at Penn St. What the fuck is there to do in Happy Valley, I guess they can just sit around and drink all day, but that’s not really a “party” in my mind. When I think Penn St. I think blue blazers and getting hand jobs from your prude girlfriend. Certainly not the way we roll up in Gainesville.

I don’t want to sound like an old man or anything either, but they partied much harder in Gainesville during my day. I was actually there for the beginning of the curbing of the rocking era.When I first got there, a 2 am closing law was unheard of. That law was passed in about my 3rd year up there, and it was pretty much totally aimed at shutting down this awesome rave club Simon’s. Anyone up there during that time, or living anywhere else in the state knows about Simon’s. That place was usually going until about 9 or 10am. Its main problem was a geographical one. Simon’s was located downtown basically right across the street from the courthouse. That meant that when all those lame ass government people were heading in to work at 9 am, people would be stumbling out of Simon’s with that lovely perpetual smile.

The guy that owned Simon’s rocked too, he was this crazy Russian guy named of course Simon. I remember when they were playing around with the 2 am closing role at the city commission meetings he would always be there. These meetings were on local TV up there, and I would watch just to hear what Simon had to say. When they passed the law, he picked up a chair and threw it at the head commissioner, it was awesome. He then opened up Soulhouse, but it wasn’t anywhere near the debauchery level of Simon’s.

Another initiative they pulled while I was up there was banning halftime re-entry at football games. This was a tremendous policy they had, it meant that at halftime you could leave and then re-enter the stadium. Anyone that’s been up to that little slice of heaven in north-central Florida for a Saturday service, knows that right across the stadium are a whole bunch of bars. So at halftime everyone would run across the street to The Purple Porpoise (now sadly defunct and the much less rocking Gator City), The Swamp, or The Grog House and you would get there and they’d already have shots lined up and waiting. You’d down a bunch of shots in succession and then run right back to the stadium without missing a thing. I think that law was pushed through by the local liquor store and Ziploc bag lobby, which is strong, as it just meant that know you had to sneak a whole lot more booze into the game.

Losing to those prissy Penn St. boys is just not acceptable. I’m tempted to just scrape this whole being sober thing and enroll in grad school so that I can make it my mission to return us to our deserved place at #1. It might be taking the idea of Gator Nation a little to far, but I am tempted. At the very least I can implore the people up there to man up and crank it up a notch this year. When you feel like just drinking beer, make it a Jager-Bomb instead. When you feel like just having sex with one freshman girl, make it a threesome. When you feel like rolling to class stoned, suck it up and eat some mushrooms. Show a little school pride.

You can see the top 20 on the Princeton Review’s tainted list here

When the news came out that some coach in the SEC had left Tim Tebow off the preseason All-Sec team, everyone knew who it had to be. Lane Kiffin was immediately branded as the prime suspect. If the sports-books would have set a line on it they would’ve made a killing. It became The Story at SEC Media days this past week, Tebowgate was the first thing on every one’s brain. One by one each coach came out and declared, I’m not the idiot. Public enemy #1 Lane Kiffin even brought his filled out ballot with him because he knew no one would believe what his lying mouth had to say. I still didn’t believe him as the first thought that came to mind was that the ballot is a fake. I wasn’t and I don’t think anyone was prepared for who the real culprit was.

The culprit it turns out was not that bumbling fool up in Knoxville, or that power mad psychotic in Athens, but rather Gator legend Steve Spurrier. Say it ain’t so Steve, say it ain’t so the people cried. Spurrier looking like a shell of his former swaggering self was left to meekly apologize left and right. It didn’t even seem like the same guy. I don’t remember Steve Spurrier ever apologizing for anything he did or said while at Florida, even if he was wrong.

It brings to mind the question, has Steve Spurrier lost his fire? Steve was never built for losing and perhaps maybe just being average is not something he can live with. I think South Carolina’s a whole lot better know than before he got there. South Carolina was a miraculous blocked FG by Jarvis Moss away from taking away Tim Tebow’s first National Championship.For Spurrier though this is just not good enough. Coupled with his disastrous stint with the Washington Redskins, it seems that fun and gun is gone from Spurrier’s personality.

Spurrier was always a guy to take all the responsibility and shoulder the load, come at me with whatever you got he used to sneer at media and other coaches. Now he immediately went and threw his director of football operations Jaime Speronis under the bus. He blamed him right away for picking the team saying that he just glanced at a few of the positions and signed off on it. Now were expected to believe that one of the few positions that he glanced at wasn’t quarterback. This from the former quarterback himself who micromanages that position like its going out of style. I’m not really buying it. Go sell crazy someplace else Steve.

I do buy that he didn’t fill out the preseason poll himself, as Spurrier has never been big on that sort of thing. He’s also always taken plenty of time for golf, but now he’s getting the heat for those things. Now people are questioning whether he has lost his drive. Its fine and dandy to leave early to go play some golf when your ripping through the SEC like a wrecking ball, but when your just an average coach that’s not good enough. Spurrier even admits that he’s just this average coach. He seems defeated when he whispers about his 7-6 record. He seems like the guy who hates his job and just goes there everyday like a zombie.

This is not the Steve Spurrier I know, and not the Steve Spurrier I want to remember or even chose to remember. I just wish this whole past week could be washed from my brain. I’m the proud owner of a Steve Spurrier Gators throwback jersey and always used to have a bit of a swagger and confidence when I put it on. I just hope I can trick myself into still feeling that way.

I know what your thinking, what the hell is up with another piece about bathrooms already. I don’t have a bathroom fetish or anything that’s just been the luck of the draw. I mean compared to how much time I used to spend in there, I spend hardly any of my time in the bathroom anymore.

Its interesting when you look at how my bathroom time has gone throughout the years. When I was very little it was impossible to get me into the bathroom. I hated it and would spend as little time as possible in there. Unless my mother forced me too, I wasn’t going. Then sometimes I’d even just go in there, turn the shower on so it made noise and not get in. Then I just stick my head in so it looked like I got wet.

Then puberty hit, and I started spending a whole lot of time in the bathroom, and I mean a whole lot. The bathroom became one of my favorite places. Then I realized that how much funnier it was to not do it alone and my bathroom time declined. Then I discovered cocaine, and right back into the bathroom I went. I practically lived in the bathroom for a few years there. They could have moved my bed in there, but it wasn’t necessary because I didn’t sleep.

Now things are back to normal and I’m just a regular bathroom user. Now I hate being a regular anything, but this one that I can live with

The reason I’m writing about this today is because of an incident that happened yesterday at work. I’ve been working at this office for almost two months now. I really try to avoid having to take a dump at work as much as possible. This day would only be the 2nd time that the uncontrollable urge had hit me. Our office is in a building with a bunch of other offices, on each floor is a bathroom and you need a key to get into it. For my first three weeks I didn’t even have a key, but now I’ve earned the right to go whenever I want.

So I head on over to the bathroom and thank god there’s no one else in there. I know that I’m not the only one that when they turn that key just prays to god that its empty. Its just so much more comfortable that way. Our bathroom is rather small, it consists of one urinal, one regular stall, and one handicapped accessible stall.

I of course choose the handicapped stall. Your handicapped stall is basically the Cadillac of the public restrooms stalls. It’s more spacious, has some added amenities, and just provides a more luxurious bathroom experience I think. When your in that regular stall your just crammed in there like a can of sardines. I actually think they should change the name for the handicapped stall to the handicapped/fat people stall, because there’s no way lard ass is getting into that regular stall.

So I’m in there doing my thing and reading ESPN.com on my phone, when all of a sudden the door opens. My heart sinks and I think, dam I hope it doesn’t smell in here. The funny thing is the noise that follows, its like a sliding noise over the tile floor. Then I hear “crap, there’s someone in it”. I think what the fuck, use the other one and who’s this idiot talking to himself. Then there’s a response “it’s okay, we’ll just wait”. I think what the fuck is going on why are there two people and their both waiting for my stall. Then it hits me, oh my god, it’s an actual handicapped person. I hurriedly finish up my business, as I was basically done and just relaxing reading up on the Roy Halladay situation.

I then walk out of the stall and then notice that is an older man in a wheelchair with a younger fella, probably his son, hanging in the back. He immediattly shoots me this look of death. Its like a fuck you no handicapped person for taking the only stall I can use. I feel horrible. I go to the sink and wash my hands really quickly. There’s a sink in the handicapped stall, which is another benefit of it, but I didn’t dare use that one while the poor man was waiting. Normally I use that one and it’s great, its like you never need to meddle or associate with all those people in the coach bathroom.

What are the chances though. I don’t think I’m gonna stop using the handicapped stall, but I did feel bad. That poor old man’s steely look at me as I emerged from the stall with perfectly good legs, will always be burned into my mind. Mind you, our office is on the 2nd floor. Which doesn’t mean much, but he had to be visiting a lawyer, or some sort of personal finance guy or something up there. I’ve never seen anyone in a wheelchair anywhere on the property.

So what it comes down to I think, is just a horrible stroke of luck. Am I gonna modify my behavior at all, no. Why should I go and sit in that dam Hyundai stall just on the astronomical chance that this happens. Besides it’s already happened to me once, so I’m not due for awhile. All you other people, your the one’s that need to watch out.

Hopefully I won’t write about anything bathroom related for quite awhile, there’s never a guarantee though.

One of my favorite pastimes has always been sticking it to the man. There’s just something about it that seems to invigorate and lift my sprits like nothing else can, well except for cocaine. That however is neither here nor there.

My obsession with sticking it to the man has been evident ever since I was a young child. I remember being fascinated in my youth by the book The Anarchist Cookbook. Of course I never did any of the stuff that’s in the book, but just knowing about it was enough at that point. As I got older, that ended up not being enough.

My man sticking desires still exist today, but they’ve become much tamer. Take yesterday for example. On Monday’s at all the Duffy’s Sports Grills around town they have a promotion where if you have an MVP card all the entrees are $9.99. Now this is a hell of a bargain. Unfortunately for me, my favorite thing to get there is the Chicken Tenderloin Platter which checks in at $10.99 normally. Getting that on Monday it seems like a waste because you’re only saving a buck when you could get something like the full rack of Baby Back Ribs and save 6 or 7 dollars. So even though I want the chicken tenders and know that will make me happiest, I still don’t want to order it because then I feel like I’m getting screwed.

Isn’t the whole point of going out to eat so that you can get what you want? If there were no prices on the menu than I would order the chicken tenders no problem. Mainly because I think Park Ave’s ribs kill Duffy’s any day. There’s something though about Monday nights that makes me want to order the most expensive thing so that in my mind I’m sticking it to them the most. Who knows, their profit margin might even be bigger on the ribs anyway, I have no clue.

I did end up getting the chicken tenders, but I got them saucy and with blue cheese. Which normally costs an extra 99 cents, but I got it for free because I’m the man.

Another example happened this very morning. For those not in the loop today was free pastry day at Starbucks. If you were friends of theirs on Facebook or get their e-mails then you got a link to a coupon that you could either print out or bring up on your cell and show them today for a free pastry with your drink before 10:30am. I of course took this as an opportunity to get those bastards twice for it.

Sticking it to Starbucks for some reason is extra sweet, I guess it’s because they get me for a ridiculous amount of money every month. I wouldn’t even want to add it up, its scary, and I’ve even cut back a whole lot. Today, I got a small piece of my revenge on those Seattle smart asses. I went at 8:30 this morning to the one on Northlake while on my way to my probation meeting (that’s a story for another day, stay tuned). I got a free sweat bread with my normal solo venti no whip white mocha frappuccino (yes, I know it’s not the manliest of drinks, but fuck it). Afterwards I stopped at home on the way to work.

While at home I was relaxing for a few moments when I looked at the watch and realized that if I left right that instance I could stop and hit them again before work. I zipped on over to PGA and got another frap and a cinnamon roll. I walked out of there with a big smile on my face thinking of all the money that I had saved this morning. The ridiculousness only hits me when looking back at it. I still spent twice the money that I normally used to (I don’t even go every day anymore). I now realize that not only did I not really stick it to Starbucks, in fact I fell right into their trap.

My last instance is going back a little ways. It happened around when I went to rehab for the 2^nd time out in Baton Rouge, LA. I completed treatment there and decided to come back to Florida and move into a sober living facility. I got out of the rehab and they dropped me off at the airport.

I was dying to get a drink, but the bastards of course had left me with absolutely no money. I couldn’t even have gotten a soda at a vending machine if I wanted. So I’m miserable and board my plane. I had an aisle seat of course because I love to put my legs out. On my way back to my seat I noticed that the stewardess was standing by my seat. When I got there she informed me that my choices were either to sit in my assigned aisle seat next to two children, or switch to the middle seat that their mother had so she could sit with her two kids. Now I know I’m a nice guy so this was really no choice for me, of course I’m gonna let her switch seats with me. I hate middle seats, but I can deal with it.

There I am sitting in my middle seat just minding my own business when 5 minutes later the stewardess comes back and tells me that she’s sorry but I’m going to have to move again. I find it odd, but I just kinda sigh and say whatever. She starts walking and I follow her. She keeps going and I realize that she’s moving me up to first class. Money I think, for once in my life being a nice guy has finally paid off. Its my reward for all those times I was the nice guy like a complete jackass and the dumb blonde I was hitting on ended up fuckin the asshole.

After I sit down in my still uncomfortable yet plush by comparison chair, I have a revelation. This was all God’s plan. Here I was lamenting the fact that I couldn’t get a drink and what did the big fella do but plant me in the one place where drinks are free. I immediately call the attendant over and get a rum and coke. I had just left rehab and was going straight from the airport to a sober living facility, but what did I care, it was all part of god’s plan. I managed to down 4 rum and cokes on the short flight from New Orleans to Atlanta where I was switching planes. Those drinks were the best tasting drinks I think I’d ever had. Not only had I not had a drink in a long time, but they were also free. It was also a double sticking it to the man, because not only were they free due to being in first class, but I had not paid for the first class upgrade either.

Upon landing in Atlanta I was presented with a dilemma. Here I was a raging alcoholic who hadn’t had a drink in 2 months before that plane ride, and I was stuck with no money in the airport. Once again I was pissed. Then I got on the plane down to West Palm and I was back in coach like a schmuck. No one there was any the wiser to what I had done, but that is really neither here nor there.

Now I don’t really know exactly where this strange fascination within me has come from. I know its not that I’m a cheapskate or anything, because I waste money left and right. I grew up in Palm Beach for Christ sake. There’s just something so sweet about getting something for free or less than what the other losers have to pay for it. I think that’s really just part of being American, kinda like blowing shit up.