Hookers kidnap Marine / Intergalactic AIDS day / effortless blog post

I am in the middle of writing my research paper of mass destruction for English, but a quick break for a slow-pitch blog entry.

Earlier this week, I shared this blog entry with Andrew, George, and Joey about two DC women getting mugged by hookers in Vegas. So it's kind of been hooker week around here.

Today, we started with me sharing this story from Wonkette about a Marine being lost in Vietnam:

From: theAlphaJohn
To: Andrew, George, Joey
Subject: Hooker kidnaps Marine in Vietnam

Bush Loses Troops In Vietnam
We know Iraq is George W. Bush’s long-delayed personal Vietnam War, but this is getting ridiculous: America actually lost a Marine in Vietnam during Bush’s visit. MIAs in Vietnam again? Let’s rock it Apocalypse Now style!

The missing staff sergeant was a maintenance specialist assigned to the Marine One Presidential Helicopter detail. After a night out drinking with fellow Marines, the specialist “left his hotel on the back of a moped driven by a local national without telling anyone,” a Marine Corps spokeswoman confirmed to ABC News.

Despite his CO “suspecting foul play or terrorism” and shutting down various bars in Hanoi in the frantic search, the Marine was just out partying with a “local national” (hooker) and wasn’t even really AWOL as he was off duty for the night.

Joey replies:

From: Joey
To: theAlphaJohn, Andrew, George

LMAO

I mean seriously, whats up with world today if you can't even trust a hooker??

and naturally, I get fired up:

I know, the hookers need to step off and understand their role in our society:

-expose orafices
-get paid

Speaking of, did I miss a memo and today is intergalactic AIDS day? I walked across campus to get lunch and found (1) a rapid HIV testing van (all writing on it was in Spanish), (2) some kind of crazy AIDS/Orphans thing with little pictures of poor black AIDS babies on popsicle sticks lined along the ground, (3) some kind of AIDS charity drive in one of the buildings being run by Robert Reed hating students.

And some kind of giant, Berlin wall parody that is supposed to convince us to stop giving money to Israel. I wish I could revoke the F1 and J1 visas for the Palestinian students and send them home on their giant stryofoam wall. But not before I made them sleep with one of the students whose rapid HIV test result was "es verdad".

After which, Joey reminds me that tomorrow is World AIDS day.

Meh.

If I lived in Southpark...

This is what I'd look like. Courtesy of the the South Park Studio (Version 2).

My initiation for Masters Swimming is finally complete (I guess?)

I've been swimming with the Masters team since September, and while everyone is friendly enough I haven't really felt like one of the guys. It doesn't bother me because this was never meant to be a social activity. I joined Masters for extra cardio, and I'm happy with the slow lane clique. As long as I'm not in anyone else's way I'm content.

The last week of the month, practice is always packed with the usual crowd plus new people dropping in to try it out. The slow lane ended up with so many people that Cheryl had to move the newbies to other (faster) lanes. After about 300 yards of the warmup our entire lane just kind of fell into sync. Our workout was a little shorter than the rest of the team, but we cranked out our 3500 yards in 1hr 15min and finished right along with everybody else. Less than 1/6 of the team is competitive tri-athletes or recent former NCAA swimmers, everyone else is 10+ years off the swim team or just fitness swimmers. The middle of the workout was (15) x 50 yard sprints, and by the end people were really feeling it.

A bunch of us ended up in the hot tub afterwards, and it was much more social than it usually is. People usually talk in twos and threes for a couple minutes and move on; this is the first time in three months I've seen 10 or 15 people have the same conversation and carry it into the locker room.

I realized the velvet ropes were behind me when some of the old timers, who were discussing work (some kind of consulting practice, not the same one but similar industry I guess), were talking about wanting a secretary but not being a position to hire someone who's 100% overhead. They mentioned a shared acquaintance who occasionally does work for them on the side, which then degenerated into nasty blow job jokes. I was really just standing there getting dressed, but I guess creeps can smell each other, because all the sudden I was on the inside...

A perfect score on your PSATs and a National Merit Scholar, nobody knows your name. You fuck one goat...

Iota Kappa Awesome's Service Work

theAlphaJohn: a couple guys in my english class also want to start a frat
theAlphaJohn: did i tell you about this?
Will: no but it sounds awesome
Will: how many recruits do we have?
theAlphaJohn: two or three
theAlphaJohn: our "service" work won't be picking up trash or whatever, our members are going to try and "fix" all the obnoxious girls with low self esteem who don't date because they repel men
theAlphaJohn: I think I mentioned this girl in my english class, ShaRonda (Capital R) whose white and fat and thinks she's all that
Will: yeah
Will: she's not allowed in at all
theAlphaJohn: oh no
theAlphaJohn: but one of our members is going to date her long enough to fix her
Will: hahahaha
theAlphaJohn: it's a catch and release program to better society
theAlphaJohn: a pity throw and a few good date conversations
Will: you mean a pledge will
theAlphaJohn: well but somebody needs to show the pledges how it's done
theAlphaJohn: i'm certainly not, but someone will have to
Will: exactly
Will: not me either
theAlphaJohn: like "hey, mouthy, do you know how hot you look when you keep your opinion to yourself??"
theAlphaJohn: really she asks?
theAlphaJohn: then you give her the best 7 minutes of your life
Will: hahahaha
Will: as long as i don't have to do it
theAlphaJohn: in the end, the goal is to boost her self esteem but to kind of clean up their demeanor
Will: nice
theAlphaJohn: so it's not like pigging or meant to be degrading
Will: right
theAlphaJohn: but our service work is all psychological
Will: hahaha

Google Answers Redeux

I'm working on my final paper for English, and was thinking about using Google Answers to help me find a bit of research I need for this paper (I'd say to finish it, but at this point it's just an outline).

I'm already signed in to GMail, so it's no surprise that I don't have to login. What is surprising is that I already have my account setup there (billing information, etc). I had completely forgotten that I used GA before.

To jog my memory, I visit my past questions and find this (click on the picture to enlarge):


I really am a creep you know.

Craigslist locks George out of his car

George called me yesterday from an undisclosed location in Rockville to tell me he'd locked himself out of his car. We have a set of each other's keys for just such an event, so I ran home and got his. While I made my way up there, George forwarded the directions from his Blackberry to my phone.

When I got there, I found George and Timothy locked out of his car and standing next to a vacuum cleaner. The story goes that George bought a vacuum off some Craigslist sketchmo and through some series of actions locked his keys in the car. I let him in and he gave me back his keys.

I'm glad it was a vacuum, and not some kind of "casual encounter" gone wrong.

While we stood in the parking lot of some random Twinbrook apartment complex, I scraped some of the barcodes and other graffiti off his windshield while we talked. I explained to Timothy that the parking lot of an apartment complex that you'll never see again is synonymous with a dumpster. To prove it, I tossed an empty Starbucks cup out the window just before we both pulled out of there.

Concert :: DJ AtomX, live at Goodlove in Baltimore

George, Timothy, and I took a trip up to Goodlove in Baltimore to see DJ AtomX's return to the booth.

Tim was first to point out that the club was basically a three level townhouse, though that didn't stop 180+ people from coming through the doors Friday night. There was a shitty house DJ downstairs that spun even shitter amp'ed up house tracks for the Fubu thugs and gaggle of worn out house fraus away from their husbands and kids for the night. The upper two levels were musically served by a DJ booth on the third level that overlooked both sets of stairs. The top level was like a loft in a townhouse, only there weren't any windows behind the mini-blinds hanging on the walls.

At one point, I did turn to George and Tim to say, "When we leave, let's go on Baltimore's Craigslist and get a hooker for all of us to share. Now I know we'll need to compromise because Tim will want his to be a tranny, and George will want his to have a USB port. Maybe we can meet someone in the middle and get a regular girl?"

Much was drank, bar tabs were small, and AtomX blasted out a four hour set (and was surprised he got paid for it). Was good to finally meet him, but it was even better to pass out in the back seat before we got on 95 and wake up in front of my house. Thanks for driving, George.

This Thanksgiving, what I'm thankful for is this speeding ticket

I left for my parent's house in Myrtle Beach right after work, and made it all the way to Souf Carolina before Johnny Law caught up with me.

Most of my trip through SC is spent on US-501, and speed limits vary from 45MPH to 60MPH. Anytime the speed limit drops, it will go from 60MPH to 55MPH before dropping to 45MPH. That's exactly what happens as you enter the town of Aynor, where Officer Peavy pulled me over and wrote me a ticket. He claims that he clocked me at 67 in a 45 which is impossible.

I always engine break in the WRX, especially when slowing down but still moving. If you haven't driven a WRX, it has a lot of horsepower (227HP@6000rpm) and a lot of torque (217 ft lbs@4000rpm). If you're in too high a gear, the car barely moves; in too low a gear the car will physically buck back and forth.

My WRX is a five speed. If I am at 60MPH or below, I have to be in 4th gear, if I'm between 35 and 50 I'm in 3rd gear. I was probably going 67MPH in that 60MPH zone, and as soon as I saw the sign for 55MPH I downshifted to 4th, and when I saw the sign for 45MPH I downshifted to 3rd.

Officer Peavy, of course, sees no break lights and pulls me over. He told me he clocked me at 67MPH but no mention of how fast he was pacing me. If I had been going 67MPH and I was in 3rd gear, he would have watched my car buck back and forth from all the excess torque (since I'd be around 5500rpms).

Office Peavy was kind enough to only write me for 55 in a 45, though he noted the "actual" speed next to it in case I decided to come from out of town to contest the ticket. I actually thought about going down there to fight the ticket, and then I found some interesting facts about Aynor on Wikipedia:

As of the census of 2000, there were 587 people, 228 households, and 158 families residing in the town.

Something tells me that if I go to court in a town with 587 people, I'm going to end up in jail instead of getting my ticket reduced to parking on the pavement.

A Visit to the Nutritionist

I had an appointment with my nutritionist Rebecca today. You may recall that I started seeing her in last August on Meredith's recommendation. In the past three months, I've lost 27lbs and 4% bodyfat.

Not quite as good as the Robert Reed diet, but I'll take it.

I'm trying not to borrow from other blogs

In this case, however, I need to make an exception.

This post by Roosh (formerly DC Bachelor) is hysterical:



Make sure to read his commentary about the video also.