I mean I know that Playboy isn’t exactly what you might call a jerk off mag, that right is reserved more for things like High Society or Hustler, but have they really started resorting to cartoon characters? Does this animated cartoon actually turn people on? God, I hope not. I can imagine maybe some fat dorky bastard, much like Comic Book Guy in the show, might be leering over it but the rest of America can’t possibly like this sort of thing.

I give major props to Hugh Hefner for most anything. I mean the guy is like one of my idols and easily in the top 5 of my greatest men of all-time list. I mean here he is at 83 years old and he spends his days lounging around in a bathrobe and his nights sleeping with his girlfriends. Much like me too, Hef is a blonde man and I totally respect that. The first sign of his old age creeping up on him came in recent years when he cut his number of girlfriends down from 8 to 3. The guy is after all 83 years old, but here I am in my sexual prime and I got my hands full with 2 so he still gets mad props.

This Marge Simpson cover thing though has me worrying about ol’ Hef. Has he finally begun to lose his mind. I know he still had to sign off on this thing,  even if he’s not in charge of day to day operations at the magazine anymore I am definitely sure he has enough clout to put the kibash on something if he wants. So I implore you Hef, break out that ol’ kibash right now.

Has our society become so dork driven that the dorks are now the ruling class. I sure hope not. Now I know that Bill Gates has more money than entire countries, but he should still be getting stuffed in garbage cans, or at the very least having to pay off cool people to vouch for him so he doesn’t get his ass kicked. We can not allow the dorks to be in charge, that’s certainly not a country that I want to live in. Sure they can have their Star Wars and Comic Book conventions, but goddammit Playboy has to be ours.

So I implore the rest of you men out there to take a stand, and let this copy of the magazine slide on buy. This is not what we have come to expect out of a great literary product that has set the bar so high. I’ve found out that Tara Reid is going to be in an upcoming issue, so save your money and buy two of those instead. Coke addict, drunk, and blonde now that’s what I’m talking about, and that’s what I think America wants to see. Go moan in Klingon while jerking off to Marge Simpson if you want, but do me a favor and go do it in Canada.

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.

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!!!!!!!!

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.

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.