How To Tell Your Former Boss That He Sucks

My pal Jeffreybaby quit his job last week at a physical therapy clinic because his boss (Steve) was a complete asshole. The man would overbook patients and then leave them sitting alone for 30 minute stretches while he worked on other clients. One time Jeff had the audacity to remind the man that he had a patient waiting. Steve pulled poor lil Jeffreybaby into his office and berated him for “trying to tell him how to do his job”. Since Jeffreybaby is such a nice guy, he couldn’t be completely honest with his pig of a boss when he told him he was quitting. I urged him to send the guy an e-mail, and he did just that…

Brutal Honesty: A Case Study

One thing that I really love about my friends is that they’re honest. Sometimes so brutally honest it hurts. Like If I stop running for a couple of months and gain a few pounds, they start calling me a portly slob. It’s that kind of honesty that keeps a man in line. Or turns him into a bulimic, insecure shell of a human being. Boy I have such great friends!

Yesterday afternoon I was given the perfect opportunity to test the boundaries of their honesty. I received a text message from my 13 year old niece, which turned out to be one of those shoot-yourself-in-the-face-upon-opening chain letters. It stated:

FWD: OK this is Scary its called MindReader send it 2 10ppl (not me) then go 2 ur inbox press * and it will spell out ur lovers name

I immediately thought to myself, “what better way to elicit truthful insights from friends than by sending out this chain letter text message?!”. I did just that…and here were the responses:

“Fuck you you fucking asshole” – Crazy Mike, Austin TX, Unemployed

“No” – Dan, Washington DC, Door-to-door Tupperware Salesman

“Fuck you. Eat shit and die.” – Tommy “Crab” Howell, Raleigh NC, Professional Writer [for Chuckblog]

“Fuck off chimp” - Scottbrundage.com, Queens NY, Freelance Illustrator

“U r a fag” – Mark, Washington DC, Attorney

“Youre hiv positive” - Christopher, Washington DC, Graduate Student

“You are gay” – Brian, San Francisco CA, Unemployed/Professional Scoundrel

“Ur gay! whose ur luver?” – Danny, Williamsburg VA, Army Ranger

“Chester Copperpot” - Adam, New York NY, Attorney

“U can lick my nuts. Cici is her name regardless of what this dumbass super-sloppy-double-dare tells me!!!” [Editor's note: my mom's name is Cece] – Jeff, somewhere in VA, who fucking knows and who fucking cares what he does for work?

“Are you gay?” – Rod, Washington DC, Professional Runner

“Youre a real d bag charles” - Todd, Pittsburgh PA, Logistical Analyst

Boy I have such great friends!

#1 Hit on Mike Smith’s Computer (when charles and crab are around).

It’s Fun To Do Bad Things

Iron Man Review: B-

I just got back from seeing Iron Man and I have to admit, I’m slightly disappointed. I thought the casting was great – Robert Downey Jr., Jeff Bridges and Gwyneth Paltrow all kicked dicks in – the story was entertaining, the soundtrack was tight (I expected more of the cliche Sabbath song), and the CGI was nearly seamless. So what’s the problem?

Ridiculous product placements, that’s what.

Half the time I wasn’t sure if I was watching Iron Man or a fucking Audi commercial. I mean, seriously? Were all those cheap Audi plugs really that necessary? I realize the high cost of producing a major motion picture, especially one with as much effects as a Marvel production, but do they really justify turning the film into a glorified infomercial? It came off almost as tacky as all the Scottbrundage.com links on Chuckblog.

I can’t leave out the incredible Burger King product placement. For anyone who hasn’t seen the film yet, Tony Stark (aka- Iron Man) gets kidnapped and held captive for 3 months by a character portraying Osama Bin Laden’s bald, mentally-handicapped cousin. When Stark finally breaks free and makes it back to the States, he demands two things: an American cheeseburger and a press conference (to tell the world that his company will no longer manufacture weapons). While walking to the press conference, he’s handed a fucking Burger King bag. At this point, we have to painfully watch as Stark eats a genuine “American cheeseburger”. Could you imagine being held captive in the mountains of Afghanistan for 3 months, then demanding an American cheeseburger and being handed Burger King? Screw the terrorists – I’d devote the rest of my life to killing whatever dumb bastards were behind the culinary atrocity.

Oh wait, the fun hasn’t stopped yet! At the start of the press conference, Stark actually takes out another Burger King cheeseburger! At that point, I realized what deadly foe would ultimately defeat Iron Man in future sequels – cholesterol.

Apparently, the jokester behind Iron Man’s financing couldn’t stop at Audi and Burger King. They went out of their way to find the most idiotic, gay invention, and then demand that it be used by the villain. If you haven’t guessed already…

That’s right, Obadiah Stane, the main villian, rides a Segway at one point of the film. The scene is only about 5 seconds long but it’s clear as day. Judging by the characters ease in riding the thing it’s also clear that he’s had quite a bit of practice on the pathetic contraption. A word of advice to producers and directors: never, ever put a character who is supposedly evil on a Segway scooter. The effect will be completely lost. Imagine Hannibal Lector riding a Segway in Silence of the Lambs. Holy shit, just contemplating the scenario made me never want to see the classic again.

Although Iron Man had its pluses, marketing made me never want to see the film again. Actually, it might be fun to purchase on DVD and use as a drinking game. Every time an Audi grill pops up on screen everyone must take a shot. Unfortunately, I think it would only lead to death via blood alcohol poisoning.

Iron Man, you get a B-.

Chuckblog loves you more than seeing matinees alone. Come back, or at least stop writing hate mail.

I think I’m in love…

On Saturday night I went out in Manghattan with Scottbrundage.com, my sister (Tiff) and her boyfriend (Adam). We hung out at this swank bar in midtown nearly all night. (Btw, thanks for paying for all of our drinks Tiff (ZOMG(ROFL(WTF)))) At 3:15 am, with last call quickly approaching, we decided to head to another watering hole.

Tiff and Adam live on the Upper West Side so he suggested that we hit up Yogi’s, a ‘dive bar’ on Broadway. Yogi’s really doesn’t deserve the title of ‘dive bar’, nor does any other bar on the UWS for that matter. A real dive bar is characterized by genuinely rude bartenders, cheap drinks, a shitty decor, urine, vomit, and a location that allows degenerates to loiter within the community. Like Trophy’s in Austin, Texas. The owner is a degenerate alcoholic who legitimately scared the shit out of me, the bartender was a washed-up, angry woman, the beer was cheap and stored in a refrigerator meant for a home kitchen – which was crucial, considering the fact that the place doesn’t even have a liquor license – and the overall grime and filth were thick enough to make Scottbrundage.com’s boxer briefs look clean. The place made me feel right at home.

So when we arrived at Yogi’s, ordered up a couple of PBR’s and laid back in the cut, I was surprised to see a blackout drunk bartender spilling drinks and dancing on the bar. The girl was in full-on thousand-mile-stare mode. She had that sedated, gone look whereby she could be looking right into your eyes but not see you at all. Kinda like a zombie. Or Crazy Mike most Saturday nights 2 years ago.

We stood behind a couple of guys and listened in as they accused her of pouring a pitcher of beer on one of them. She accused him of grabbing her leg as she danced on the bar. They demanded free drinks – shots of Jameson and some free beers. I watched as the girl turned around and scanned the bottles of liquor for Jameson. It took her quite some time to find the bottle, as she kept looking right over it. The thousand-mile-stare was confirmed.

After pouring the shots – spilling shit all over the place in the process – the bartender demanded payment for the drinks. The guys told her that they weren’t paying for shit. It was at this point that I looked away for a second, and was soon hit by a piece of ice. “WTF, where did that come from?!”. I looked back up and saw the bartender pouring a beer over one of the dudes while he returned the favor. Soon enough, this crazy bitch was launching beer bottles, shot glasses, and half-empty pitchers at the guy. Of course, she missed each time, hitting the suckers standing behind the dudes. Aka – us. After getting hit with a bottle, my sister ran outside to get the bouncer. When nothing was left to throw, the bartender stormed off to the back room crying.

Two thoughts ran through my mind as this madness ensued:

1. This bitch is absolutely crazy, we need to get out of here stat.
2. I think I’m in love. I need to get this girl’s number, take her out on a date and marry her. At the very least, interview her for Chuckblog.

I commend Yogi’s for hiring such a degenerate and hope that they keep her on the payroll.

So what else?

Degenerate Road Trip: Final Reflection

Tommy dropped me off in Fairfax VA yesterday afternoon, putting an official end to our degenerate cross-country road trip. Getting out of the Silver Chariot, I fought to hold back the tears welling in my eyes – caused by the realization that our journey had finally reached its conclusion. I think Tommy felt the same way. He opened up the car window while driving off, gave me the finger and screamed a string of obscenities. All was right in the world.

Although we weren’t able to post much during our adventure, there were many memorable occurrences on the road. 100 to be specific! Check em:

1. Drinking sparks on the beach in San Clemente.
2. Confessing my sins to Tommy each morning in CA.
3. Hearing Tommy read bible passages aloud after confession.
4. Watching Jerry Springer while cowering under the covers in a dark hotel room in CA.
5. Sneaking into a Blues Festival at the age of 24.
6. Getting caught sneaking into a Blues Festival at the age of 24.
7. Watching Tommy accidentally urinate himself on the beach in San Clemente. While sober.
8. Cruising around San Clemente while listening to the Brian Jonestown Massacre.
9. Attending an Angels versus Dodgers game without having any clue of what was going on.
10. Dinner with the Howell family, including the infamous Grumpy Grandpa (who didn’t turn out so grumpy after all).
11. Talking to Heather for 2 hours in a bar, and not remembering any of the conversation the next day. “So Heather, do you know insert name here?” “Um Chuck, we talked about that last night” “Whoops, sorry again!”.
12. “Go on, give it a jiggle!” (in a British accent). Our official trip motto.
13. Gambling redemption in Vegas.
14. Driving through the desert.
15. Watching Tommy heckle tourists on the Hoover Dam by yelling “HOLY SHIT! LOOK AT THAT BRIDGE!”.
16. Looking out for donkeys with horns in the desert.
17. Hiking to a cliff and jumping into a freezing cold pool of water in Flagstaff. Oh wait, that sucked!
18. Challenging Tommy to a who-can-go-the-longest-without-showering contest.
19. Lasting one week in the who-can-go-the-longest-without-showering contest.
20. Watching Tommy go the entire three weeks without showering.
21. Going into Mike Smith’s place of employment and attempting to interact with his coworkers while we were the opposite of sober.
22. Doing the same thing two nights later.
23. Getting free food everywhere we went in Flagstaff.
24. Refusing to follow Mike Smith underneath a bridge below a road in Flagstaff to drink cans of Sparks before entering a bar. What the fuck does this look like Mike? Billy Goat’s Gruff?!
25. Getting free t-shirts from Paul at Pay-N-Take. Yeah, you know, the guy who could talk Hitler out of the Holocaust. “Hey, hey, Adolf…Come on bud, the Jews aren’t so bad. What size shirt are you pal? You want a drink?”
26. Getting in some great altitude training in Flagstaff.
27. Sike.
28. Living with an Irish Olympic Qualifier and his miniature donkey for a whole week.
29. Living with an American Olympic-Qualifier-hopeful and his intergalactic battle station for a whole week.
30. Living with a Man-ape for a whole week.
31. Asking the Irish Olympic Qualifier if “Duck Tales” aired in Ireland when he was a child. It did!
32. Hiding under the covers with Tommy and Mike Smith (obviously in the same bed), to protect us from the 6 feet of snow that fell in Flagstaff. Anytime someone would get up, we’d scream “GET BACK HERE, WHAT’RE YOU THINKING YOU SUICIDAL MANIAC!!!”.
33. Playing ‘Punk Rock Girl” by the Dead Milkmen over and over again on Mike Smith’s computer.
34. Attending a Hippie party in Flagstaff, AZ. Complete with a drum circle and women sporting armpit hair.
35. Hearing Tommy scream “HOLY FUCK!” at the top of his lungs upon seeing a group of hippies playing hackey sack in downtown Flagstaff. Can the town’s residents do anything more to fulfill the place’s stereotype? I don’t think so.
36. Seeing a coffee mug in a candy store in Flagstaff that read “We can send a man to the moon, but we can’t e-mail chocolate?!” It was quite possibly the most moronic attempt at humor since Gallagher’s watermelon-smashing antics.
37. Dancing like we dropped E at 80’s night at the Green Room.
38. Getting into a scoundrelling war with a dude named ‘Cletus’ at 80’s night. I accidentally bumped into some dumb redneck named Cletus and he started to pick a fight with me. I apologized and he suggested that I buy him a beer to make up for it. The minute I bought the man a beer I realized that it was all a con to get a free drink, so I demanded one back in return. After another potential near brawl with the goat-man, he finally caved and returned the favor. Gully, remember Cletus’s trick for future reference.
39. Having two lesbians ask if we were gay, based solely on dance moves.
40. Tommy ‘accidentally’ walking off with a girl’s license at 80’s night.
41. Chillin at Pay-N-Take with my dog, Anthony.
42. Drinking at a bar alone in Flagstaff, assuming people would meet up with me. When no one did, I soon found myself alone and stumbling down the streets at 3am. I called Mike Smith and he got out of bed to pick me up. Great friend. I then pushed the boundaries of our friendship by falling over furniture in his house and ‘accidentally’ kicking a wall – waking up the Olympians preparing for the most challenging competition in the history of sports. The next day they asked if we had a party, because “it sounded like you guys each brought girls home”. Nah dogs, just me.
43. Waking up the morning after 80’s night with a perfect lipstick stain imprint on my Sonic Youth t-shirt, and having absolutely no clue where it came from.
44. Trying to make out with Jenny whenever I saw her, but being rejected each and every time. Damn Jenny, that was cold-bloooded!.
45. Asking for a pink lemonade at a wine bar – a drink which contains alcohol – and being served a non-alcoholic, yellow lemonade. The waitress put it down and said “uh, yeah, the bartender made this lemonade. Sorry, it’s not a pink lemonade”. Puzzled, I asked “So, uh, does this one have alcohol?” to which she responded “No. Is that OK?”. I agreed to take the lemonade, putting aside the fact that this woman knowingly brought me the wrong drink, since I thought it was awesome for a bar to hire mentally handicapped employees.
46. Calling Mocku and making him explain the “Double Stack” to Jenny over the phone.
47. Watching Tommy wear a hat that had fur and wolf ears to dinner and a bar. He officially become “Wolf-Donk” for the rest of the trip.
48. Saying the word ‘donkey’ about 300-400 times over the course of the journey.
49. Saying the term ‘motherfucking rape party’ about 300-400 times over the course of the journey.
50. Passing the orange vomit bucket (aka- Mike Smith’s garbage can) back and forth with Tommy.
51. Taking credit for cleaning the vomit bucket when Mike Smith asked me who cleaned it the next day. Gotem.
52. Asking Mike Smith to summarize his experience hosting us, which he could only respond with, “Everyday…vomit…vomit”.
53. Threatening to kick the shit out of two college kids who were taping “scenes from Flagstaff’s nightlife” with a video camera. They got footage of us being denied entry into a bar and who knows what other mumbo-jumbo that came out of our mouths.
54. Crowding around the photo-hunt video game at a bar for what seemed like hours. Mike Smith looked around at one point and said “People are staring at us and think we’re insane” to which Tommy responded, “I don’t care, I’ll stay here all fucking NIGHT!”.
55. Wondering how the Pizza Hut in Pecos, Texas could have ever passed a sanitation inspection.
56. Arriving in Austin, to be greeted 3.cm, Salad, shots of Jim Bean and a case of Lone Star beer.
57. Watching Saladadd to the garbage in his front yard by throwing beer cans, shattering the Jim Bean bottle, and launching eggs onto the lawn.
58. Eating at a Mexican restaurant in Austin where no one spoke a word of English. I got a huge carnitas burrito, chips, and a can of Tecate. Price – 5 bucks and change.
59. Being denied entry – along with Salad- into a bar on 6th street.
60. Performing a homo-erotic, shirtless dance routine with Salad on stage in a bar. The next day, 3.cm told me that two people actually left the establishment after viewing the dance equivalent of “Faces of Death”.
61. Watching a random girl throw rocks at Salad’s ass on a bar patio. He requested that she do this to him. The bouncers were puzzled.
62. Playing nude male photo-hunt with Tommy, Salad, and 3.cm.
63. Mocking a girl for wearing a “What would GG Allin do?” t-shirt.
64. After the girl wearing the “What would GG Allin do?” t-shirt told us that she’s originally from Philly, I immediately called Mocku to test her Philly knowledge. Because, ya know, it’s really uncommon for someone from one major city to move to another major city in their 20’s.
65. Getting the number of the girl wearing the “What would GG Allin do” t-shirt, but not calling her!GOMEZ!!!
66. Turning gay bars into straight bars, and straight bars into gay bars in Austin. (Courtesy of Mike)
67. Eating at the hippest diner in the world. Possibly the universe.
68. Cruising around Austin in a Jeep Wrangler with the top off.
69. Hiking to Sea Donkey Cove.
70. Swimming in Sea Donkey Cove.
71. Sitting on the sacred Sea Donkey Rock, located in Sea Donkey Cove.
72. Sleeping on the floor, cuddled up next to a dog with fleas.
73. Helping Mike name the dog with fleas Lord Anubis. Pronounced An-you-bis.
74. Watching Mike and Salad repeatedly threaten Lord Anubis’s life.
75. Eating genuine Texas BBQ.
76. Getting pulled over in Texas for speeding and only given a warning. The dumb cop made me step out of the car to ask me if my license, which clearly states “New York State Driver License”, was an identification card or a driver license. I had no clue what the hell he was talking about, so merely pointed to the words “DRIVER LICENSE” on the card. It was at that point that he realized a ticket would be out of line, considering the fact that his mental retardation was no longer a secret.
77. Watching Tommy lose a chugging contest to a woman. In his defense, this woman resembled Jabba the Hut, but with full-sleeve tattoos. The female bartender at this place in Austin challenged Tommy to the feat of drinking strength, but then went into a back room and uncaged the beast to take him on in the challenge. I don’t think God, Herself, could have defeated this creature in a chugging contest. Tommy never stood a chance.
78. Planning on stopping in Nashville, TN to get a good night of sleep for our final leg of the trip, but mysteriously winding up in a casino in Tunica, Mississippi.
79. Hearing Tommy scream “Security!” Rick-James-Dave-Chappelle-style whenever our blackjack dealer would actually yell ‘Security!’ in response to his card table antics.
80. Watching Tommy walk around to roulette tables like Jojo the Idiot Circus Boy, throwing away his winnings on black or red.
81. Singing “Our God is an Awesome God” on the ride to Raleigh.
82. Getting yelled at by Tommy for touching the radio in the car.
83. Getting yelled at by Tommy for touching the glove compartment in the car.
84. Getting yelled at by Tommy for touching anything in the car.
85. Getting yelled at by Tommy for playing Plastic Little on my Ipod.
86. Getting yelled at by Tommy for falling asleep while he was driving.
87. Getting yelled at by Tommy for asking to drive.
88. Getting yelled at by Tommy for not driving enough.
89. Getting yelled at by Tommy for driving too fast.
90. Getting yelled at by Tommy for driving too slow.
91. Getting yelled at by Tommy for asking to stop for food.
92. Getting yelled at by Tommy for asking to stop to pee.
93. Not getting yelled at by Tommy whenever he was asleep in the car.
94. Detoxifying our bodies and souls with the Howell family in Raleigh, NC.
95. Participating in a Mike Tyson’s Punch Out competition. Damn that Soda Popinski!!!!
96. Watching Tommy lose to Soda Popinkski in the third round after talking so much shit.
97. Attending a little fiesta at the Howell residence, clearly in my honor.
98. Convincing Tommy’s 6-year-old nephew that I can magically transform myself into a miniature donkey, but only in Flagstaff, AZ.
99. Competing in a trivial pursuit game with the brilliant, yet ruthless Howell family. My team lost though…sorry Doctor Dan and Robbie
100. Getting home and never having to see Tommy again.

There you have it folks. I’d like to personally thank the following entities for their contribution to my experience:

Salad and Mike – you guys know how to make a couple of donkeys happy. Jim bean, beer, cheap food, fleabag dogs, good music, Sea Donkey Cove, slampigs, and much, much more.

Jenny – free food and good company. Maybe next time you’ll accept my advances to make out!

Scottbrundage.com – just knowing that you would still be around on the internet when we arrived home got us through those long drives.

Mike Smith – you’re a true Gibraltar Girl and contrary to popular belief, we love you more than you can ever imagine.

Smirnoff Tripled Distilled Vodka – we also love you more than you can ever imagine.

Doctor Dan and Miss Jan – the trip would have never happened without you guys. I wish my parents would disown me so that you guys can adopt me? (Hi Mom!)

Tommy, Crab, Donkey – at dinner in San Clemente, Miss Jan asked me “I know Tommy is funny, but why do you consider him a friend?!”. The road trip helped to explain the paradox. For instance…At the casino in Tunica, I had lost all my alloted gambling funds in blackjack and couldn’t possibly take out more cash to keep playing. Tommy was also down, but still had a decent stack. He looked over and saw that I was finished, split up his stack of chips, and gave me a pile even bigger than the one he left for himself. Tommy, you’re a true friend who’s there for his buddies when they’re down. That, or a degenerate gambler who doesn’t want to sit at a table alone. Either way, thanks for the great time and I hope I don’t see you anytime within the next 2 months.

Chuckblog is back!!!!11111GOMEZ!!!!!!!!!

Degenerate Road Trip: Part 3

Charles and I are still in Flagstaff, and we have no fucking clue why. Anyone who has ever seen “Stand By Me” will recognize the dialogue exchanged between Gordie Lachance and Chris Chambers that perfectly summarizes our unending time in “Flag”:

Chris: I’m never gonna make it outta this town am I, Gordie?
Gordie: You can do anything you want, man.

We’ve repeated this mantra to each other hourly as we struggle to pack up our shit and get back on the road. As I write this, Charles sleeps on Mike Smith’s bed, recovering from a night out with several of Flagstaff’s most reputable citizens. I’m sitting at Mike’s computer trying in vain to compose a post that is intelligible. Clearly, we both possess a single-mindedness that can be stopped by nothing.

For any of you Chuckblog readers who have never been to Flagstaff, Arizona (and I presume that there are many of you), I’ll do my best to accurately describe it:

1. Hippies. Everywhere. Fucking disgusting!
2. Six inches of snow in May. Charles and I woke up and looked out the window, looked at each other, and cowered under the blankets like 7-year old school girls. I would have been less surprised if I woke up on Mars.
3. Mike Smith knows everyone. If anyone you’ve ever known ventures through Flagstaff, tell them to say that they’re tight with Mike Smith. It’ll guarantee free drinks and a cursory blow job from a show-pony.
4. Find Paul at the Pay-N-Take. The Pay-N-Take is a bar/convenient mart that will completely change your opinion on capitalism. Paul is the owner/manager that could have talked Hitler out of the Holocaust. He handed out Pay-N-Take T-shirts like they’d fallen out of the sky. All the while, he whispered to us about the great rivalry between Georgetown and Villanova during the mid-80s. We’ll never know if Paul was using any drugs the night we were there, but for the sake of humanity, I like to think he wasn’t.
5. This town loves idiotic bar video games. If you’re low on friends just drink till you forget your middle name, saddle up to the photo-hunt video game in the Monte Vista Hotel and make sure you have at least $40 in singles. It’ll surely be a night to remember.

Chuckblog would like to thank 7000 feet of altitude for making us disgustingly sick.

Degenerate Road Trip: Part 2

Tommy and I have been in Flagstaff, AZ for the past few days, crashing with our good pal and fellow Gibraltar Girl, Mike Smith. The experience has been full of highs and lows thus far, but overall the degenerate road trip has been a smashing success. Here are some of the highlights:

Attending a major league baseball competition. Tommy’s family – led by Miss Jan and Doctor Dan – graciously bought us tickets to a baseball competition between the Los Angeles Angels and Dodgers. I clearly have no clue what’s going on in the world of sports, causing me to choose my favorite team of the game based according to a very objective criterion: team name. Since I’m a devout Catholic (ZOMG!), rooting for the Angels is much more appropriate than favoring the Dodgers, which elicits a mental connotation of draft-dodging. I was compelled to stand behind the Angels on both a spiritual and patriotic level. More importantly, however, Angel’s player Vladimir Guerrero looks like rapper, Lil John.

I apologize that these two images cannot accurately compare the physical attributes of the two men, but I would have done the world a great disservice by not posting a photo of Lil John snowboarding. It might possibly be the only documented proof of any black man – let alone a rapper – on a snowboard.

Sneaking into the Doheny Blues Festival in Dana Point, CA. Although neither of us have any interest in blues music, we felt obligated to sneak into the $75-per-ticket festival like idiotic high school kids. The festival was held on a beach by our hotel, set off from the public by a high chain link fences. We devised the ultimate break-in strategy: a running jump onto the seat of a bike chained to a fence post, allowing us to vault ourselves over the rest of the fence and onto the other side. We accomplished the feat without any problems, but were spotted by a heavily-tattooed/pierced security guard. Upon reaching us, the Ork-like man seemed perplexed by our status as two adults. It’s only logical for him to assume that we were simply overgrown children. Thankfully, his confusion led to a mere warning: “I mean, come on guys, do you have to be so obvious?! Don’t do it again tomorrow.” We had no intention of doing that again tomorrow. In fact, we hadn’t really planned on doing it the first time around.

Coming back from the dead in Vegas. Vegas loves natural born losers. Tommy and I are natural born losers. If my logic is correct, then these two givens lead to the conclusion that Vegas loves us. The last time we visited the dreaded city together was last summer, when we willingly gave our money away all night long then bunkered down in a hotel room during the day with the blinds shut and lights out, huddling together like frightened animals. We blame it all on the Cursed Pyramid, more commonly known as the Luxor hotel and casino.

A majority of people don’t believe in black magic, but trust me, evil is at hand in the Cursed Pyramid.

Thankfully, this time around we stayed far, far away from the unholy place and opted for a room at Binion’s hotel/casino in Old Vegas. Unfortunately, the reach of the Cursed Pyramid extends throughout the entire city of Vegas. At the Golden Nugget, we quickly lost all of our money in blackjack and roulette. When we left the casino, I knew we were close to hitting rock bottom when Tommy turned to me and stated, “If I ever become a low-life wandering the streets of Vegas, please come save me.”

After wallowing in our sorrow and having a few drinks at Hogs and Heifers (don’t ever go here, BTW), Tommy had some kind of strange epiphany. He declared that we should make one final attempt at redeeming ourselves in blackjack, which was all the motivation I needed to give it another go. We sat down at a table occupied by some friendly middle-aged women and a rad dealer, and our ultimate redemption ensued. We won back our previous losses and actually knew when to walk away this time around. Leaving Las Vegas is kinda like scrambled porn; after seemingly endless minutes of static, you get that one moment of clarity that makes everything right in the world. This was our money shot.

Heckling tourists at the Hoover Dam. On our journey from Vegas to Flagstaff we passed over the Hoover Dam, which shows the view of a bridge being built across the canyon. Tourists fascinated with the  construction stood all along the Dam taking pictures of the work-in-progress. With a cigarette drooping out of his mouth, Tommy rolled down his window and kept screaming “HOLY SHIT!! LOOK AT THAT BRIDGE!!!!”, blatantly mocking people for standing around in 105 degree heat while taking snapshots of a glorified construction site.

Cliff jumping in Arizona. After arriving in Flagstaff our host and good friend Mike Smith coerced us into hiking through the woods to jump off rock cliffs into a freezing cold pool of water. Since I filled my life quota for nature outings during my time with the US version of The Hitler Youth*, I was unenthusiastic for the expedition. It turned out to be surprisingly fun. Contrary to what I learned in Deliverance, I guess that hiking into the middle of the woods on an unmarked trail doesn’t always lead to rape and murder.

*The Boy Scouts of America

Attending an 80’s night at some bar in Flagstaff, with the following great acts occurring that night:

• We approached the dance floor as if the fate of the world depended on the intensity/stupidity of our moves. People either loved or hated us, with most falling into the latter category. Two lesbians applauded us for being openly gay in public. They were shocked when we told them that we were actually straight, but still commended us on our moves.
• Tommy accidentally stole a 21 year old girl’s license. Oops!
• Upon requesting Eddie Murphy’s “Party all the Time”, the DJ gave me a look which said “Are you fucking joking me?! Of course I have Eddie Murphy’s ‘Party all the Time’!”. The song came on about 2 seconds later.
• I woke up the following morning with a perfect red lipstick imprint on the shoulder of my Sonic Youth t-shirt. I have absolutely no clue how it got there.

Along the way, Chuckblog has pleaded with people to visit www.scottbrundage.com. Even the girls with hairy underarms we met in Flagstaff.