That Just Happened

The funniest thing happened last night. I went out, here in Mumbai, with my coworker who shall remain nameless, and some friends I had made from my previous trip. Keep in mind that my coworker is a middle aged balding somewhat chubby man. Although he used to drink back in the day he rarely drinks now at his wife's request so when he is away from her he really wants to let loose and drink hard. We met up with some friends and went to a bar/restaurant where we had some drinks. My coworker had 3 long island iced teas with god knows how much booze in them. We didn't really eat much and we then went to a Hawaiian themed bar. I know, what else do you in Mumbai but go to a Hawaiian bar?? My coworker and I started drinking pretty strong whiskey and cokes and started tearing up the dance floor. Let me just say that I am only willing to dance when I am sufficiently intoxicated, but when I am, I am an awesome dancer. No joke. My coworker threw down some interesting moves and he certainly let loose. We probably drank anywhere between 8 and 15 of these whiskey cokes before one of my friends requested that the bartender cut him off. Me, I kept going. He was becoming very loud and obnoxious. We finally left the bar completely hammered at about 1:30 and got driven to a cab stand where we got a cab to take us back to the hotel. During the ride my coworker begins to puke all over himself and then he sticks his head out the window and pukes out the window. After he is finished he removes his shirt which is covered in puke. Let me just tell you about our hotel for a second. It is really nice. And here in India all the hotel staff are overly polite with their "good evenings" and "how are you sirs?" We get to the hotel and are walking up to the door and my drunken ass is trying to get my coworker to put his shirt on just til he gets to his room, but he intelligently explains that his shirt is covered in puke. For half a second I debated giving him my shirt because I was wearing and under shirt, as is the standard J style we all know and love. I quickly realized that would most likely destroy my shirt and decided not to offer it. We get to the door and I start to burst out laughing as he is walking into the hotel shirtless and drunk off his ass and all the hotel staff stare at him dumbfounded with his balled up puke shirt in his hand. I eagerly explain to everyone within earshot that "it's okay, he just had a few drinks." Keep in mind, there is bar/disco at the hotel and Sunday night is a big night here and there are lots of people milling about. So there is about a hundred people watching this clearly wasted middle aged shirtless balding chubby man that has puke all over himself and me right next to him loosing my shit and cracking up and rolling around on the floor at the scene of him. I try to as quickly as I can usher him to the elevator and I made sure he made it to his room. I then went to my room and passed out.

I woke up a few hours later and immediately burst out laughing at the memory of the sight of him. Still even right now I am laughing while I am writing this. It had to be one of the funniest things I had ever seen.

I of course told my boss this story over the phone today and he couldn't stop laughing.

Live from Mumbai

I barely made it..

I told my loose cannon/alcoholic/insane/likely to be arrested in a foreign country coworker that if he didn't show up at the airport Friday morning I was not going to get on the plane. Seriously, I wasn't doing this alone. No way. And it seemed like a possibility when his wife was admitted to the hospital the day before for some mild sickness. I arrived at the airport around 6:20 AM for the 8 AM flight. By 7:15 he was nowhere to be found and wasn't answering his cell phone. I figured something happened and he wasn't coming. I was heading to the gate to see if was possible to retrieve my checked bag when I finally saw him. Apparently he waited in the long line to check his bag instead of going straight to the business class line. Yea, I know, I work with geniuses. It was actually disappointing to see him because I wanted to stay in Boston so I was kind of glad he had appeared to not be showing up (of course I was mildly concerned.. if something serious had happened.. to his wife.. not him. I don't care about him).

The flight was pretty good. I drank a lot of free booze ("yes I would like some champagne, and a rum and coke and what beers do you have?") and ate some terrible food. I wandered around the plane and realized I was the only passenger awake. It was kind of creepy, like the airline and put everyone to sleep. I watched a few movies.

The airport in India is usually a madhouse with crowds, no hoards of people and cars everywhere. Most international flights arrive in the middle of the night and every member of the family has to journey to airport to pick their loved ones up, and there are about 100,000 taxis and porters wanting to help you carry your bag.. for a fee, and they keep asking even if you keep saying no. Anyway, our flight arrived around noon, which is unusual and is probably the only flight getting in then, so it wasn't nearly as bad. However, since it was noon and it is May, it was about 100 degrees with 100 percent humidity outside. I was sweating profusely by the end of the 100 yard walk outside to the car.

India is an interesting place. In some ways it seems just as fast paced as the U.S. or more so, especially on the roads with the insane traffic and death defying driving abilities of just about everyone. In other ways, it is really slow. Order a sandwich at a deli in the U.S. and they make it and give it you in a few minutes. In India the same thing takes half an hour. Request a room change in India to avoid being near construction at the hotel and they say someone will change it in half an hour. An hour later you are still waiting and finally they do something as the realize the American kid is getting pissed.

I went to the movies in India. Apparently the first order of business once arriving here was to see Spider Man 3. This made perfect sense to me. I had never gone the theaters here before. The theater was nice. You get assigned seating, like at a sporting event, and there was an intermission. Of course I was jet lagged and could barely stay awake.

Other observations about India/the hotel/life in general:

1) The room service guy has an uncanny ability to arrive just as I am sitting down in the bathroom to handle some business. I am convinced they are watching me and are messing with me.
2) If you don't put the 'do not disturb' sign on the door they will try and clean your room every 10 minutes even though you are asleep and tell them to go the f away.
3) Don't try and converse with the taxi driver that doesn't speak English. I feel like it pisses him off "stupid American doesn't know hindi!" and he could really take you anywhere he wants because I don't know where the hell I am.
4) If the movie gets cut off on the plane 10 minutes before the end you have the right to complain. Now I will never know what happens at the end of "Alpha Dog." Justin Timberlake did a surprisingly good job, unless of course he blew it in the last 10 minutes of the movie.
5) What can't Justin Timberlake do?

Sing? Check.
Dance? Check.
Act? Check.
Look beautiful? Check
Be Attractive? Check
Don't be unattractive? Check
Destroy beautiful women so they become a shell of their former selves? Check -Hi Britney!

6) My man crash isn't on Justin Timberlake. We all know I am Johnny Depp guy.
7) I'm not gay, I swear. Well, not that I know of. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Mother Country

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I am boarding a plane that will land in London. Shortly after, I am boarding another plane that will land in Mumbai. Basically, that is the long way of saying I am flying to Mumbai tomorrow morning. 2 weeks in the motherland. 2 weeks of f-ing hell. It's going to be hot as very overheated testicles. And I am going for work.. again. At least it's not 6 weeks this time. Before everyone starts freaking out, yes, I will continue to post on this pathetic excuse for a blog while I am there so you can continue to get your weekly dose of everything J. I've got you all addicted to the drunken rambling thoughts I call my mind. HA HA HA! You are all trapped! You fools!

I played the Wii for 8 straight hours last night. No joke. From 5 PM to 1 Am I played the Wii.. nonstop, with A. I know, I am redefining "cool" on a daily basis. I also consumed several beers.

Blue Steel gets a point for the thorough bath I gave her the other day.

Blue Steel 20
Wii 9
World 2

My next post will originate from India! Unless I drunkenly post something else tonight! Why am I yelling!?

Apple Juice

I know, it's been almost a week since I have posted anything and I make my triumphant return with a post about apple juice!? If you thought "that shit is weak," you would be correct. If you thought "finally, apple juice!" then I would like to introduce myself. I am J, I like apple juice at work, I like apple juice at home, I like apple juice anywhere! Let's get together and drink some AJ ("AJ" is the scientifically abbreviated term for apple juice, like when "cool" people say "OJ" for orange juice, the more popular but ultimately inferior juice).

I should say here, my first man-juice-love relationship (wow, now that is gay) was in fact orange juice. Man, I used to drink orange juice like.. I don't know, but it was a lot. It was fun. It was orange. Orange juice will forever hold a special place in my heart. Unfortunately after my formative drinking years (age 18-22) I drank way too many screwdrivers and poisoned my love of orange juice while enhancing my love of alcohol. I think that had I not done this apple juice still would have supplanted orange juice as my juice of choice.

Now that I've abandoned coffee and the weather has turned warm, getting a cold sweet apple juice in the morning along with my bagel is pretty much heaven on Earth. Yeah, that's how I would describe it. It's sweet, but not too sweet, not too acidic, and it's just a delight to have it in my mouth (more gayness). I really feel I could drink, no, chug a gallon of it at a time every hour on the hour.

There are only a couple problems with apple juice. One, my roommate pretty much makes fun of me for everything I do, and in particular, he has zeroed in my apple juice consumption. Imagine this from a 200 + pound man trying to talk like a little girl: "hey, what you got there big guy? Got some apple juice!?" Followed by comments questioning my sexuality. Two, shit be expensive. If you want the good stuff (and you do, let me tell you), it'll cost you. This is a juice for the rich. And lastly, the most scary thing of all, kidney stones. Yea you heard it, the most painful ungodly pain known to man, kidney stones, can be caused by increased consumption of apple juice. From Wikipedia:

In the United States, the South has the highest incidence of kidney stones, since it is a region where apple juice consumption is very common.

Yikes! You know what is scary about kidney stones, other than them being the most painful things in the world.. ever, is that if you have a big one that can't pass through, they don't necessarily go in and surgically remove it. No, they work some medical magic mumbo jumbo and bust that big stone into a bunch of little one's that now all have to pass through whilst tearing up your urethra. Jesus Christ! I am going to need to rethink my beverages. Good times.

That's Wrong

The last two posts I posted began with "Yep, that's right" and "That's right." I'm surprised no one has ridiculed me for this. That's right, I'm starting to think this is a weak and pathetic way to start a post, or a any sentence for that matter. It's a prominent sign of my un-manliness. That's right, it's time for me to stop. No more "that's right." I know this may be an unpopular decision for a few of you (me), but most of you should be thanking me. And for those of you that don't like this decision (me), you are retarded.

Blue Steel Has Gone International

That's right, my baby, my precious, Blue Steel, travelled across international borders and went to Canada, our great neighbor to the North with funny accents. It was a good trip, eh? Yes, it was. What are you talking aboot? I'm talking aboot Montreal. I went up there for a friend's bachelor party and get this, I'm not even invited to the wedding! I got volunteered/recruited without my knowledge to attend the bachelor party for someone I really don't know that well (hence the non-invitation to the wedding). He is a nice guy though. There were around 15-20 of us at any given time so I didn't feel that out of place. Of course my drunken ass announced to anyone that would listen that I was not invited to the wedding. This lead the groom to drunkenly invite me to the wedding, which I declined, because really I had it the best way; I get to go to the bachelor party and don't have to go to the wedding? Sign me up. Let's get to points real quick eh?

Driving through 2 states (U.S.), New Hampshire & Vermont: 2 points
Driving into Canada: 3 points
Killing several hundreds of bugs on the highway: 2 points
Cleaning off the bugs: -2 points
Smelling the excessive manure used in Southern Canada whilst in Blue Steel: -3 points

Scoreboard:

Blue Steel 19
Wii 6
World 2

Blue Steel is running away with this thing. By the way, the odometer is now over 3700 miles.

What else happened in Montreal you ask? I'll tell you what happened.

Drinking.

That's pretty much it.

Well, there were a few things:

1) I yelled "I hate Mcdonalds!" at Mcdonalds to which the patrons there applauded.

2) I slapped some girls ass really hard and someone else was blamed.

3) I saw some really foul puke on a deck and off the side of the deck to where people were standing below.

4) The most muscular manly woman ever offered to teach me French... at the strip club.

5) I smoked the strongest Cuban cigar.

6) I paid $55 (tip included) for 6 beers... at the strip club.

7) I won a pool on the Kentucky Derby even though I didn't watch it nor knew which horse I had.

8) I maintained my Canadian virginity even though there were guys asking us "are you looking for girls?" at 3 in the morning when I was hammered.

9) I missed out on the hottest lesbian show... at the strip club.

10) I did way too many shots of jager.

11) I saw a bunch of S4's. It's a popular car up there. I also saw an RS4. Nice.

That's most of what I remember. Montreal was a really nice city though. It is very clean.

Montreal

Yep, that's right. Blue Steel went to Montreal. Point updates and drunken memories are coming. Also it looks like the vote on where I should live is at a stand off with Boston and New York each receiving two votes. San Francisco, Colorado, Chicago, and other are on the board with 1 vote each. Yea I'll probably end up flipping a coin, or a series of coins because there are so many options. But thanks to the eight of you that voted.

Poll

Vote in the poll to the right to help me figure out where to live.

Update: As of right now, 2:41 PM, it's a tight race between New York (1 vote) and Boston (1 vote). I have so many readers, I'm awesome.

Move to NY?

I'm still relatively new at this whole blogging thing and am still trying to grasp what it's all about. "But what does it all mean?" Since I was introduced to this whole shiny new blogging world, I have taken to reading other people's blogs. A lot of them are by people I don't know. I have become attached to them and eagerly wait for new posts like a drooling dog waiting for a treat... seriously, I drool, a lot, at work, waiting for posts, not treats. I don't consider these other people real. They are more like characters, like on a TV show, except with reading, not TV, because I can't watch TV at work. But you know what? They are real. Like me, I'm real. But most of them live in New York. Why is that? The Internet is everywhere so why do most of the blogs I read originate in New York? This leads to my follow up question, what the hell am I doing in Boston? And also, should I live in New York? It seems like if you have a blog, that's the place to be. Maybe more blog worthy material happens in New York than other cities. That's crazy talk! Shit goes down in my neighborhood. Well, no, not really. Maybe bloggers want to be with their own kind and chose New York as the place. Or maybe only the really cool bloggers that I read are from New York and only lame bloggers like myself are from Boston. (Check the standings, Boston does have this over New York). You know what I think? I think it would be a really lame reason to move somewhere because I have a blog and there are a lot of other bloggers (that I read) in that place I would be moving too. Right? Anyway, I'm off to look at apartments.. in New York! Didn't see that one coming, did you?

Two Posts in 1 Day! And A Story About a Gay Guy.. In India! Wow.

In honor of it being May 1 (wow I am really building up this month in my mind) I am putting two posts out there...in one day. Don't expect this to ever happen again. I know, you are thanking me. I don't have much to say though. Let's see, what can I write about that will be up to my standards of being mildly entertaining (at best). I'm pretty sure you've gathered a lot of information about me. I am a 20-something drunk guy that is obsessed with his car, and yea, that's about it. I consider myself awesome, mostly because my car is awesome. I'm starting to think this two posts in 1 day is a really bad idea. So I do have a story for you about a gay guy in India.

I am going back to India May 18 - June 1 to outsource the rest of the job. I am looking forward to my impending unemployment once I get laid off. (How funny would the previous sentence be if you remove the last word "off")? Anyway I am reminded of a story from the last time I went to India, for work, last summer. My coworkers and I bailed work on a Friday and flew down to Goa for some fun in the sun and partying for the weekend. We met a couple of really cool girls down there and one day we were at their hotel in the pool playing some sort obscure version of water polo. A couple other people staying at the hotel joined us, one of them being this overweight middle-aged British guy, Mark, that had lived in Goa for two years. This guy was clearly on some loopy drugs because he didn't really make any sense at all. Anyway, in between games, he asked some of the girls we were with if any of them was my girlfriend, to which they all adamantly replied "Hell no!" or maybe they just said "No, but I wish he was, he is soooo dreamy." I prefer the latter version. Apparently, Mark wanted to be on the opposite team as mine for the next game so that he could guard/grope/feel me up. Luckily for me none of this happened, and I didn't even know he wanted this to happen until after we were done in the pool. Later that night we were meeting up with the girls and planning on going to the casino. They were going to meet us at our hotel and go from there. They came over and told us we had to wait because they had bumped into Mark at the hotel when they were leaving and he wanted to come along.. and see me. I was obviously not happy about this and considered skipping the casino altogether. I was worried Mark was going to slip me something or get me drunk and try and take advantage of me. I was so concerned about it, that my friend, C, finally let me in on the fact that Mark coming with us was a joke the girls had played on me. Well done, well done. They got me. This story reminds me of another time a gay guy in college hit on me pretty hard, and the time recently at the mall when a guy essentially picked me up (he got my number). I will save those stories for another time. Be well, friends.

Note: I've got nothing against gay guys, I just don't want to be picked up by them or hit on by them in a serious manner (jokes are welcome). Not that this happens often. It's like how I wouldn't want a really unattractive girl to hit on me either (not that this happens either).

May

It's May today! Yay! April showers are a thing of the past. It's all about May flowers. I'm like totally excited! Aren't you!? Like totally!?!? No more chilly drizzly mornings walking to work. From here on out it is warm weather and sunshine, playing golf in the evening, and drinking beer on the roof deck. Life is good.

Speaking of golf, I put forth a semi-embarrassing effort on Sunday. I didn't keep score, but I know I got par on one hole and all the others I sank in 7-14 strokes. Give me a break, it was my second time playing, ever. I am playing again today. I plan on going pro by the end of the summer, if not sooner. I hear if you are the best player in the world you can make decent money, so that sounds good.