Saturday, January 19, 2013

Anyone Want a Lollipop?

I DO!!!!!!

And check out some of our NSFW pics of girls with lollipops!

Hottie of the Day #2 - Anna Vishnevskaya

MISS RUSSIA INTERNET -- Anna Vishnevskaya  

And Don't forget to check out our Other Hotties of the Day!

Robbed in Guatemala City

I have done a lot of traveling.  I am a travel-holic.  When I had a website in the late 90's, I used to post excerpts from my travel diaries.  Lo and behold, I found those articles this last week and from time-to-time, I am going to post random travel stories that I have experienced throughout the years.  I hope you enjoy and feel free to comment.  


Guatemala City is not the most beautiful city in the world, nor is it the friendliest or cleanest, but there are a few sights to see.  Most tourists do a short stop in G.C. before moving on to Lake Atitlan, Antigua, and the Mayan ruins.  That was my plan.  After spending just two days in the capital city, I decided I would take off to Antigua and then on to Lake Atitlan.  I ran into a small problem though.  While trying to get to the bus station in Guatemala City, I was robbed.  This wasn't just a little mugging, but a full blown robbery.  The only other time I experienced something like this was in Brazil (That story will be told later).  
It was about a twenty minute walk to the corner of 18th Calle and 10th Avenida, where several other backpackers had told me that buses bound for Antigua (my next destination) were to be found.  Another guy from the hotel was leaving that day too so we decided to walk together and take the same bus.  It was 5:30 AM and the streets were nearly deserted.  For once, I actually felt safe walking the streets of G.C.  During the day and at night, there was an aura of danger throughout the city.  Gangs of young guys and boys would walk around and I saw them threaten several people, but so far I had avoided them.   About 10 minutes into the walk, a young man of about 20 started following us, but he disappeared when we reached the spot where the buses were sitting.  

The buses were all sitting in a line and as we approached the third bus, the driver called out "Antigua" to us.  I felt relieved that I would make it out of Guatemala City without incident, something that many travelers cannot say.  Even the guy from the hotel, an Aussie named Derek, told me that he was mugged his first day in G.C. and lost his wallet and watch.  The driver took my large bag and tossed it up to a kid on the top of the bus and I climbed on the bus, holding my smaller backpacker.  

The bus was mostly full, and we were making our way towards the back, when the driver´s assistant met us half way up the aisle and told us to sit here, on either side. Slightly odd, but these guys were always telling me to sit down, so with a shrug we began to perch ourselves on the edge of the two benches. Then he told us to put our bags up on the rack. This as well was odd, but not unheard of. On crowded buses I had often been asked to put my bag up over my head. Vanessa, clever girl, held on to hers. I, meanwhile, acquiesced. After all, I had done it before, and if you just keep one eye on it all the time it is relatively safe (attentive readers will begin to perceive that hubris and complacency had begun to set in after so many uneventful trips). 

At this point I already think the bus attendant is behaving a little bit strangely. I can distinctly remember watching him and thinking, "He is odd, I should keep an eye on him." Then he does something that should beyond any doubt have set off screaming alarms in my head. Having placed my bag on the overhead rack, he pushes it back a little bit, as if just tucking it away, muttering soothing words the equivalent of "Here, just like that," until it is a good foot or two behind me. It remains inexplicable to me why I did not at this point stand up, tell him to fuck off, and take my bag back. I swear to God, I think the guy had me hypnotized. I can remember looking at him, and thinking "OK, now this guy is really acting weird," but still I failed to react. 

Finally, he made eye contact with both of us. Backing ever so slowly towards the front of the bus, saying "You two just sit there and relax, we will be on our way in five minutes." I´m convinced he even used his index fingers, pointing first at our eyes and then waving them slowly in to point at his own, directing our attention to his face. 

I believe, although I can´t honestly be sure, that at this point he turns away and the bus begins slowly to roll. Contact broken, I glance back for my bag and in the same moment that I see it is gone I catch a glimpse of the emergency exit at the back of the bus closing. Screaming bloody murder, I charge to the back of the bus and out the back. Scanning the crowd ahead, I run a few paces, stopping when I see no sign of my bag. At this point Vanessa hollers¨"There!" from the back of the bus, and turning around I see some guy with my bag, not four paces to the side of the bus, climbing into a cab. 

Still hollering, I give chase, and I think I´ve got him when I reach the cab. Surely hearing my screams the cabbie will stop. But no, as I reach the open driver´s window he screeches forward, accelerating rapidly. I keep pace for a handful of steps, actually putting my right hand in the driver´s window and grasping the edge of the door as if I´m going to singlehandedly hold back this cab. A few more bounding paces, still accelerating with screeching tires, and I´m being carried forward by the car rather than my own steam. Finally, either just in time or a moment too late depending on which side you look at it from, I realise the folly of this plan. Letting go, I quickly discover that my feet alone are not up to the pace, and Í go down, sliding on my side and cracking my skull on the grimy, encrusted asphalt. 
That´s about it. Not really having alternatives, I climb back on the bus, at least intending to make good my escape from this evil city. The bus attendant, of course, was not the bus attendant, and had scuppered out the front as soon as he turned away from us. 

To summarize my losses: 

  • One iPod (no more music this trip) 
  • One digital camera 
  • 250 odd pictures, 150 of which are gone forever (Steph, don´t trash my pictures). Many would have adorned the pages of this blog. I can now say with complete confidence that these were among the best images ever captured through a lens, exquisite in their composition and unbearably beautiful. Their loss is, I venture to say, the cruelest of this tragedy. 
  • 768 Megs of compact flash memory, 512 of which wasn´t even mine (I´ll be buying you a replacement Phil - do you know the specs?) 
  • 1000Q cash (perhaps $165 CAD) 
  • One credit card and two bank cards, easily cancelled. 
  • One passport (this is proving a nightmare to replace. I have to go back into the belly of the beast, twice, to get the job done) 
  • Birth certificate, driver´s license, medicare card (I really hope they haven´t figured out identity theft here) 
  • Various books and miscellaneous items 
  • Those damned clip-on sunglasses 
  • About three square inches of skin from my shoulder and elbow, liberally replaced with oily ground in grit and grime. Vanessa is proving to be a miraculous nurse, and with no sign of infection it appears I may keep the arm. 
  • A significant amount of pride, and good riddance. I spent most of the last twenty-four hours berating myself for being so stupid as to fall for such a pathetic ruse. In the end, I almost think having been taken in bothers me more than the actual losses. 

This, combined with a couple other incidents this year, has me convinced that God is trying to tell me something. Perhaps that I am not supposed to have expensive things, at least not things I can´t afford to lose (and what other definition of expensive could there be). 

As if to drive the point home, having arrived in Antigua and signed up for Spanish classes we were invited to participate in the creation of an Alfombra. For the uninitiated, an Alfombra is an extremely intricate, multi-coloured image that Antiguans at this time of year like to make on their streets (a picture would help here. too bad huh?). Painstakingly put together by packing many different layers of coloured sawdust into wooden stencils, while continuously watering the work-in-progress so it doesn´t blow away, a reasonably complicated Alfombra takes a team of some twenty to thirty people 8 hours of continuous labour, hunched over on their knees on the cobblestones, to make. It is generally timed to be completed perhaps half an hour to an hour before a religious parade comes through and stomps the thing into oblivion. 

A concept not unlike the Buddhist Mandalas, created by monks over a course of days by dropping individual grains of coloured sand until a spectacularly complex illustration of the meaning of life, the universe and everything is created, at which point they stand up and grab their brooms. 

Now I´m not thick. I get it. All things are transitory. So as I sat there contemplating the Alfombra and its impending doom, and considered my iPod, my camera, my pictures, my sunglasses, I thought to myself, "OK, sure, but I don´t give a DAMN about this stupid sawdust."

The Right Way to Use Toilet Paper!

This is for my buddies who always seem to have the toilet paper in their house "Backwards". You Guys know who you are.  They have the toilet paper rolling in and under rather than up and out.  I have tried to explain that this is not correct, but they don't believe me.  Now, I have proof!!!!

Hottie of the Day - Charlie Sheen's Girlfriend Georgia Jones

She may be dating Charlie Sheen, but she is still Sweet as Georgia Peaches!!!  We also have a NSFW set here if you like that kind of thing.
And Don't forget to check out our Other Hotties of the Day!

Pizza, Chicago Style

I ate Pizza for lunch today and I started thinking about Chicago Pizza!  For those who have been there, you will know what I am talking about.  Chicago Deep Dish Pizza rules!  I don't think I can eat at Pizza Ranch or Pizza Hut anymore.  I am suffering Chicago Deep Dish Withdrawal!

I kind of consider myself a Chicago expert since I have been there so many times.  I think I have eaten at just about every major Chicago Deep Dish Pizza place.  I bet I have eaten at at least 15 to 20 places since I first went to Chicago when I was a wee little lad in the early 80's.  I have my favorites, just like all Chicagoans.  I love Gino's East downtown (Ontario & Wells) and Giordano's (the one right off Michigan Ave. is the best.)  Both places are tourist magnets but the pizza is top notch.

Anyway, without further adieu, here are my top 10 Chicago Pizzerias:

1. Giordano's
2. Gino's East (only the one on Wells)
3. Lou Malnati's
4. Pequod's Pizza
5. Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Co.
6. Bacino's
7. Pizzeria Due
8.  Pizano's
9. Home Run Inn
10.  Pizzeria Uno

Sports Fans' Bill of Rights

I found this in my archives.  I wrote this on my blog that was on MySpace (Remember that dinosaur?) back in 2006.  Enjoy!

There's a Bill of Rights for U.S. citizens, children, taxpayers, consumers, home owners, travelers, mental patients and animals. Which leaves only one important group without one: sports fans.
Until now.
Amendment I Owners shall make no seat in a stadium narrower than John Madden's butt; nor name said stadium after some soulless brokerage house; nor install trough-style urinals in said stadium without little shelves to set cold beers upon.
Amendment II A good seat being necessary to the pursuit of happiness, any fan may move down to a better one after halftime, including courtside, and not get the hook from a 17-year-old, $5.15-an-hour-making, Clearasil-jonesing usher who thinks a spiffy jacket suddenly makes him a member of the Marines Security Guard.
Amendment III No fan shall suffer strikes, lockouts, seat licensing fees, male cheerleaders, ticket-price hikes after losing seasons, drastic last-minute changes in starting times to accommodate ESPN3, team-logo changes within one year after said fan has plunked down $75 for a jersey with the old logo, mascot arrests, vendors handing over lukewarm beers with thumbs in them, 6'10" yokels wearing novelty cowboy hats in the seat in front of said fan, drunk carnies constantly screaming "Run the flea-flicker!" in said fan's ear, or ejection from the arena or stadium by a security guard because of said fan's T-shirt, even if it says BOUCHER DATES FARM ANIMALS.
Amendment IV The right of the fan to a short national anthem shall not be violated; nor shall the anthem be "personalized" to hell and back; nor shall said singer be the owner's niece; nor shall the guy in the music booth continue to play Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye or We Will Rock You year after year after year.
Amendment V No fan shall be required to answer questions from spouses, such as why the garbage disposal is still stopped up, during crucial situations, such as the second half; nor shall said spouse interrupt at such times to get a pickle jar opened or to "mention" a "little, teeny-weeny nothing accident" with the new Mustang knowing full well that said fan is only pretending
to listen in such crucial situations, such as SportsCenter.

Amendment VI The fan shall be afforded a fair and speedy baseball game and not suffer through human glaciers like Nomar Garciaparra stepping out of the batter's box to readjust his hat, sleeves, gloves, groin and stirrups after every pitch; nor shall the fan suffer TV camera closeups so tight that said fan can see the piece of spinach on a pitcher's tooth, all the while leaving said fan no idea that the infield has shifted and the first base coach is on fire.
Amendment VII In lawsuits it shall be judged that any ball, bat or muffler that ends up in the seats shall be permanently the property of the fan who first comes into possession of it, not the meathead who wrestles it away. In case of said wrestling away, said meathead will be subdued, stripped, wrapped in the Iraqi flag and dropped off at the nearest Harley bar.
Amendment VIII There shall be no such thing as a traffic lane between the TV and the fan watching the game. Use the off-ramp behind the sofa. In addition chips, wings and cold beer shall be readily available to said fan, though rising to get said items shall not constitute an offer by said fan to get same for lard-ass brothers-in-law in close proximity.
Amendment IX No fan shall be made to feel like a jerk just for wanting to shake the hand of an athlete said fan has spent all his time and money idolizing, just because said athlete happens to be 7'1" and 325 pounds with footwork Baryshnikov would've guzzled turpentine for.
Amendment X The fan shall not suffer parking places that are $4 cab rides to the arena door; nor shall the cost of four tickets, four hot dogs, four sodas, four programs and four souvenir hats to any game exceed that of a 2003 Ford Focus; nor shall old phone books, sliced diagonally, slathered in picante sauce and topped with green goo, be sold as a $9.95 Fiesta Mexicana; nor shall the beer be anything but very, very cold.
It would also be nice if somebody explained the Davis Cup to the fan, preferably Anna Kournikova.
These powers delegated to the fan shall not be construed to mean that said fan can streak, holler "You da Man!", participate in Father-Son Night pummelings, ask for autographs if over the age of 12, or wear those hideous striped Zubaz pants.
Now, let's work to get these into law!!!!

OH S*%T!! IT's an Avalanche! - Terrifying Tuesdays

Avalanches look cool from afar, but you never know how far they are going to go!  These guys thought they were a safe distance away...

White Castle Has Some Idiots Working for Them

Like whoever came up with this on the bottom of the hamburger boxes!  Way to go Guys!

Friday, January 18, 2013

I Might Start Going Back to Church

It has been a few months since I have been to church, but I could be persuaded to head back there...

If you like that pic, check out our NSFW collection of Nuns.  

Hottie of the Day - Jai Angel

What a beauty!!!  JAI ANGEL
And I love those shirts that show the bottom of the boobs. Drives me crazy!!

And Don't forget to check out our Other Hotties of the Day!

I Have Had A Shitty Day - Can I Trade Places With This Cat?

Lady Gaga Splits her Pants

I came across a picture of Lady Gaga wearing Split Ass pants during a performance.  Not sure if she split tyhem performing or if they were made that way.  My guess is she intentionally had them done that way since she is an attention whore (and for some weird reason, I am giving her attention...I need to be checked out!)

If you look close, you may get to see her asshole.  That would be fitting since she is kind of an Ass!!!  (I know, lame, but this feels like a lame day, so cut me some slack.)  

I saw this picture last night but was too battered from all the tweeting…coupled with the fact that I don’t give a fuck about Lady Gaga and I don’t really think the rest of the world, other than her gang of loyal freaks, care….you see cuz everything she does is for attention…a bullshit, fabricated cry for attention, tricking the retards into thinking she’s a visionary or an artist…when it’s pretty obvious and straight forward that she’s just a fucking puppet….doing fucking puppet bullshit to get noticed….that said…I’m posting the pic anyway…cuz split pants on any fat ass in a room full of 10,000 people….is kinda funny…even if this clown worked it into her nonsense juggling act!

I’m too lazy to look for the video – someone send it to me.

Ashley Salazar Is Making Suspenders Sexy!

Ashley Salazar sure knows how to work a pair of suspenders!

Here are a few more pics of this lovely Latina:

And we have one NSFW pic of this Latina Beauty!  Enjoy!

Lessons Learned from Villages Around the World

As many of you know, I used to travel, A LOT!  I have been to South America, India, Central Asia, China, Southeast Asia and all over Central America and the Caribbean.  I wrote meticulous diaries whilst traveling and I like to share some of those diary entries with you here on the blog.  This one is from when I was recently in Brazil.  I was traveling in the Amazon.  I spent a full two weeks going down the river on a boat from Leticia, Colombia, stopping here and there on the way.  I have fond memories of one particular Amazon village that I stopped at.  We were supposed to be stopping there for just a few hours, but due to mechanical problems with the boat, we ended up spending two nights there.  This village was full of wooden houses, gardens of fruit plants, a few soccer fields and a few shacks that acted as little stores or the school. 

The village was unique in that it was one of the few smaller Amazon villages in which I saw a mix of Indigenous peoples and Europeans.  The other villages I had visited in the Amazon were made up of indigenous people.  I was later told that those villages were made up of tribes while the village we were in was a “community” village, made up of a mixture of different groups.   In the Tribal villages, many of the people looked like something straight out of National Geographic.  The majority of them were wearing very little to no clothing at all.  Many also had their faces painted, usually with a rustic red color.  A couple of them had no electricity or phones. 

The one thing all of the Amazon villages, whether tribal or community, had in common was a sense of poverty.  Now I had traveled throughout Asia and Latin America and I have seen my fair share of villages.  And unfortunately, many of these villages had one thing in common, Poverty.

But one thing I always noticed in all of these villages was that, no matter how poor the people and villages were, the kids were always playing and had a big smile on their faces.  It was no different in this Amazon Village.  The kids had a strong sense of community pride as well. I noticed many of the kids going around and picking up trash in the streets. 

And there was a bonding between father and son, mother and daughter.  Many of the fathers took their kids out to hunt for food in the in the morning, before sunrise. The little girls worked side-by-side with their mothers, whether it was washing, cleaning or preparing food.  They always did it together.  And they did it with a smile on their faces. 

The kids still had a lot of playtime.  And when they played, they had a great time.  I was lucky enough to be included in this playtime.  We played soccer, tag, hide-n-seek and a few other games that I still don’t know the name of, but were fun to play. 

I was greeted all over the village with smiles.  Everyone, adults to kids, always had time to smile to the foreigner who was wandering around in their village. Then I started thinking about these kids and the kids back home in the states.  Kids there always seem to be complaining to their parents about having too much work to do, or of doing chores around the house, or too much homework.  All they want to do is sit around and play video games.  Kids in America really do not know how good they have it. They take everything for granted and always want more. I really wish every Western kid could spend a summer in a village somewhere in the world.  I know I am planning on taking my kids to Africa or South America in a couple of years.  We will spend a month in a small village.  I hope they learn to appreciate things and not take everything for granted. 

After all of my travels, I noticed that I have become bitter and angry when I hear someone living in a 4 bedroom, 3 bathroom house with 5 TV’s in it complaining about something that really is nothing.  “OH, my internet is down.”  or “The storm is messing with the TV signal.”.  I hear that and I just want to slap them and make them see what I have seen.  Trust me, I have tried to explain what I have seen and felt to people, but the majority of them just don’t get it. 

Things that we take for granted would mean the world to someone else. So next time you complain about something, think about that little boy who needs to wake up at 4am to go hunting with his dad to eat that day.

Nice Try, But you Really Should Learn How to Use Photoshop

Women, and men for that matter, are constantly trying to make themselves look better. They have come to use Photoshop to enlarge certain things, erase blemishes, etc. As you can see, sometimes these "adjustments" are made in haste. Always make sure you straighten out the background lines (in this case a wall) when you try to make your boobs bigger! 

The H-Bomb and Dating

I remember a girl I was dating right after I graduated from college.  She was a girl who was a singer in a country band and she was a hottie.  She was also a wild one in bed.  Man she did some crazy stuff!

We weren't too serious.  We both were in it for fun, partying and sex.  I don't think either one of us wanted to settle down so it was nice to find someone who was on the same page as I was.  

One night she said that there was something I should know, and my heart dropped because I figured she was going to drop the H-Bomb (H Bomb: When someone you are sleeping with tells you they have the herpes.) on me. I felt my heart sink and a knot in my stomach.  I braced myself and told her to tell me what was on her mind.  What I heard next was a mixed bag of feelings.  Elations followed by concern.  She just thought I should know that not too long ago she was addicted to pain pills and she thought she was an alcoholic. My first thought was "Thank God! I am disease free!".  My next thought was "That's it?  Isn't that what singers are supposed to do? Drugs and alcohol.  No biggie." 

I asked her if there was anything I could do to help.  She said "No, it is ok."  Then we had sex.  We messed around for about 3 more months.  I never saw her pop any pills, but I saw her drink a ton. Honestly, it didn't bother me.  I drank too and her drinking and pill-popping never was a problem, at least not when she was around me.  We parted our separate ways when her band went to Nashville to try and make it big.  They never did and I never saw her again.  

Free Advice Friday - How to Make A Texting Stalker Quit Stalking You

I am not sure if the person who has been sending me a ton of weird texts knows they are sending it to me.  My guess is they have the wrong number or they are just stupid -- Or Both!!!

Anyway, I have been getting some weird texts this week from someone claiming to be a former friend.  The guy is now mad and wants to hunt me down.  Funny thing is, the guy never has answered any of my texts back and I call the number that the text originates from and there is no answer.  I probably got 20 texts between Monday and Wednesday afternoon.  Wednesday afternoon, I texted him (or her for all I know) back with this message:

Error 23: SMS Not Delivered; The number (insert your number here) has blocked you. Please Try again later. 

Whoever it was texted about 3 more times after that and I sent this message each time.  Since Thursday morning, I have not received anymore texts from that number. 

So use that message and maybe you will get rid of your "Texting Stalker".

The True Meaning of Life

Group Work in Schools

While this post pertains to business schools, it's just as true regarding high school:

Group work is largely an academic joke, a process where the weaker members of the group rely almost exclusively on the stronger, more conscientious students to carry them all to the grade they want. (Of course, the same “weak rely on the strong” dynamic prevails in real-world group work as well.) Group work serves lazy students and professors quite well — the low-performing students can relax while their peers complete the task, and the professors have fewer papers or projects to grade.
I remember very few group projects in high school, and only a couple of group projects in college (where I remember everyone pulling his/her own weight).

Lance Armstong Vs. ET

I was reading through all the tweets about Lance Armstrong this week and came across this one.  It gave me a good laugh!  

Thursday, January 17, 2013

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