Tag Archives: Todd Oliver

I got an iPhone, I got a new iPhone! Holy everthing I got a new iPhone! Seriously I got a new iPhone!

The new iPhone 5 is out the new iPhone 5 is out OH MY GOD, the economy isn’t that bad.

Look any economy that can support a collective group of retards that literally camp out for days in order to spend $700 on what is basically a status symbol isn’t in decline.

That’s the reason this election isn’t about the economy, the economy isn’t that bad.   Interest rates for a new house are at roughly “1.pleasebymepercent” and a bunch of ‘tards are amped up because apple ‘did something’.

This economy is so bad I'll wait in line to spend $700!

This economy is so bad I’ll wait in line to spend $700! (photo credit: CNN)

Seriously how bad can the economy be when people line up and camp out to spend $700 on something that will be old news, right now?   How bad can it be?  Chelsea Handler just said the iPhone 5 was over and that she was having sex with Steve Job’s ghost while drinking Vodka.

Or something I wasn’t really listening.

I also got a new phone today.  I’m pretty pumped about it too.

I paid exactly 0.0 dollars for it and it has exactly 0.0 new features over my old phone.

Much like the iPhone 5.

Let me explain.

Today my phone committed suici … okay no MORE LIES … I killed my old iPhone 4.  I rode bareback with her, I never protected her and I gambled with her life, every day.   I didn’t ‘wrap my rascal’ and a fatal fall killed her.

I couldn’t find a case I liked but more to the point I couldn’t be bothered to look for a case because, “I’ll never drop this phone.”

Then I dropped the phone.

Today.

On the day that the new iPhone 5 goes on sale and I really, really hate apple so today was really inconvenient.  Had this happened in August or October you likely wouldn’t be reading this, I just don’t care about apple and changing phone manufactures IS a goal of mine.

But changing phone numbers is just too hard, or I’m just too lazy.

My wife said, and I deserved this, you did this on purpose to get the new phone.

Let me assure the world, getting a new phone, in this day and age is the absolute last thing I want to do.   I have to reload contacts, re-synch the music, re-synch the apps, re-enter passwords and … I’d rather someone punched me in the balls.  Everyone reading this knows it’s a pain in the ass.

The line at the store was fun.  Some hippy chick that was born last night asked so many questions people behind her were actively plotting her death, myself included.  I favored a diversion followed by a slow and painful strangulation but was outvoted by just punching her to death.

Seriously hippy girl had to apologize to the crowd several times.

The crowd was weird.   Lots of suits.   They were all, to a person, very enthusiastic about the new phone.   Which is cool but here I was not giving a shit about the new iPhone stuck talking to them without a device that allowed me to disengage from the conversation cause my phone was broke.  Actually I should have offered to buy their old phone, that would have been a good plan but …

Focus Todd, back to the story.

Finally, after what seemed like … well it was really only 20 minutes I reached the guy at the counter.

I told him my sad, sad story.  I dropped it, the repair guy said it was about the same as a new phone and can you help me sir?

He had a new iPhone 5 of course, one of only a few, would I want it for just *billion euros?  I sighed.  Dagmar will hate me but fuck it, sure.  I need a working phone, for work, this blog and porn if nothing else.

He typed into the computer, looking up my contract.  We chit chatted.   I don’t give a shit about iPhones I told him, I’m pissed I have to buy new chargers.   Do you have adapters for the old chargers, no?  This sucks.

Then he said the magic words.

“Have you ever upgraded?”

“No, I’m a virgin,” I blushed.

“Why not just upgrade to a 4s,” he replied, licking his lips.

“How much would that cost,” I said looking him in the eye.

“One Euro,” he said removing his shirt.

And we made sweet, sweet gay love right there on the counter.

Look the iPhone 5 is like 5 million Euros or some shit and slap that 4s on the counter for one euro, I’ll take one please.

I bought a phone condom, at the same time.   It was a 15 Euro phone case.   I gave him a 20 euro bill.  Unlike America not everyone has a cash register, he had the typical euro leather wallet of bills.  He didn’t have a much euro change.

“I guess this phone is on me,” he said.

And it was.  Now if I can just get Siri to say tits and update my contacts.

Because banks are fun but making fun of the wife is ‘funner*’, I just want to say, ‘suck it hon.”

Just found out my credit score is better than my wife’s, which basically translates to, “don’t lend money to my deadbeat wife”.

And you people are always sticking up for her.

You’re all marks, she’ll con you.

The chickens have come home to roost.  Read on …

Basically it’s only like a 9 point difference because neither of us has made a move, credit wise, without the other’s involvement in a billion years.

So, why the difference you ask?  American Eagle, a 10% discount on all purchases made with a store credit card I answer.

You see earlier this year, when we went to the states and bought a crap-ton of clothes, because well it’s ‘Merica.  Someone, not this someone but the other someone in this fascinating and tawdry tale, fell for the ‘if you open an American Eagle Credit Card you can save 20% on all your purchases.”

So I’m in my boxers right now, wearing a stained wife-beater t-shirt  swilling beer preaching to Dagmar about the brilliance of investing in the future credit swaps of ‘who cares because I have a better credit score than you do so I’m smarter’.

Okay that’s not really happening because she’d punch me for doing it.  To clarify she’d punch me in the wiener.  There may be few life lessons I have learned throughout the years but not getting punched in the junk is one of the few I have taken to heart.

Scrooge McDuck

If I buy this house for 110k, repave the driveway, it’s totaly worth a cool million I’m sure of it. Scrooge McDuck (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Anyway like most of America we bought a house, at the absolute top of the market.  You remember the era.  It was when real estate would “never go down in value, and we could all keep flipping houses until we were Scrooge McDuck level rich, swimming in pools of money.”

It was literally right before you and I started to cry when we opened our 401K statements circa 2007 or so.

Flash forward to today and  home loan rates are no longer in the “who the fuck cares” percentile and she and I thought it might be time to get one of those sweet, sweet low-rate refinance loans.  We were pretty sure that a house’s interest rate shouldn’t be so close to the credit card that the two are on first a name basis.

And we were right.

This is the odd part, or maybe not considering our credit scores (suck it Ms. Lower than Mine Credit Score), the bank really just offered to send me 12 strippers and to send Dagmar a live-in pastry chef for one year.  Okay not really but they were like (imagine this said with a sexy voice), “We promise to service your loan Mr. Oliver.”

Anyway, tons of personal information later Ms. Sexy Voice** does credit checks and comes back with the something akin to the following, “you’re awesome Todd and I want to have crazy sex with you but there seems to be a freeze on your wife’s credit.  Can you call Equifax, Transunion and Experian and ask them WTF is the issue?  Then we can have the hot sex.”

Okay I paraphrased that last paragraph up there but point is there was an issue with her credit report.  To remedy this I called all three, a painful experience from Europe I assure you.

And here they are in order of best to worst.

Transunion makes checking your credit score so easy you’ll call them back tomorrow to do it again.

Literally I thought I was calling a friend.

Thansunion:  “Dude, I’m SO glad you called!  I just noticed on your CC that you signed up for bigbreastedamateurhousewifes.com.   That site is the tits dude!”

Me: What? That’s on my credit report? Jesus Christ get it off of there!

TU:  Relax man no one else can see it, I LOVE that site.   Check out Ms. Mulberry lane dude she’s insane.

Me: Okay, Okay I will shut up.  Is our credit okay?

TU: It’s the tits dude  …. Look man why don’t you call more often man we’re such good buddies!

Okay maybe they were a little too friendly.

Experian is run by Germans.  I’m sure of it.

Experian representative:  “Give me  zee numbers, (beep/boop/beep/boop), robot says your credit is okay.   Press 1 to continue, press two to destroy zee world.

I hit two and was put on hold.

Equifax stabs you in the eye and then, and here is the fun part, makes you give

Image representing Equifax as depicted in Crun...

Please to be removing your eyewear for the stabbing in the eye please. Image via CrunchBase

them money because stabbing you in the eye costs money.

Literally it’s crazy.  I was transferred to India where the following took place:

“Oh I see you are liking the boobs of wives that are your neighbors but not your wife sir.  This will be costing you twenty five American dollars sir.”

Anyway thought this amazing process, and a $25 dollars a month poorer charge, I’ve come to find out the bank put in the wife’s wrong SSN on the credit check.   But still at the end of the day it was worth the million dollar phone bill.

Finally I do have to point out that we have credit scores that are in the 800’s, pretty bad-ass. Or at least it seems that way until I remember that I’d have a credit score of you have to be kidding were it not for Dagmar. As she correctly reminded me I didn’t even have a credit card (I had a bitchin’ stereo though) when she met me let alone a credit score. Thanks … lady with the lower score than I.

*   Screw you Fran and others.  “Funner” is the word to use in this situation.

** It was really only a sexy voice in my head, but it was funner that way.

Stop F’ing with me Germany … also I feel a bit paranoid. We should go to the sauna.

Germany is fucking with me.

Or maybe it’s the weather that’s fucking with me.

It’s likely best if you imagine me as a meth addict saying those two things.   A meth addict that’s been awake for eight days, hasn’t showered for 10, is covered in sores and this has gotten way off topic.

Look, I know, just as I know I will write another retarded update to this blog that the gray clouds and constant drizzle are about to hit us but, at of this mid-September point it is all 70-degrees and sunny.   If the easiest job in the world is

Brussels, Looking Hot

Like this only in Germany and crap. (Photo credit: clappstar)

Phoenix weatherman (It’ll be hot and sunny tomorrow) the second easiest should be a weatherman in Germany (bring an umbrella!) and its taunting me because you can feel the weather SLOWLY changing but without any of that normal half cloudy, half rainy crap that September usually seems constructed of.

But I’m VERY sure that in all the Septembers I’ve been here in Germany (five of them if I recall) I’m pretty sure I was wearing a jacket at this point.   But not this fall, not this September, its 70 degrees in the afternoon and I should love it.

I should …

You see I grew up in Phoenix, hence the weatherman joke a moment ago, where the sun told you to shut the hell up and get back inside on or about March 1st and didn’t stop flailing your hide until about December 15th.

Dagmar grew up in another hot … oh wait it snows there in the winter.   Half-credit only honey and really it never was that hot when we visited.  Warm yes.   Phoenix hot?  No.

The point is we both like hot weather.   We love it.   LOVE it.  We’ve actually told friends we love hot weather with capital letters.   “Hi, we love hot weather with capital letters,” we said.   It was awkward.

But it’s a good job here in Germany.   Good people, interesting work and I’ve since learned (being from Phoenix) that snow is just water, it can’t hurt you and if you put on more clothes the cold can be tolerable.

Who knew?

Which brings me to the German saunas, always a popular topic if the word searches that lead people here are any clue (perverts!).    Besides sweating while naked next to total strangers, during warm weather, there are ample places to lie out in the sun at the Sauna we go to.   There’s also a heated pool and sleeping rooms and there’s even a natural lake, and back in July and August when the sun was just ‘a-rockin’ it was awesome to jump into its cold water.

Point is we both like to tan and if you can tan in the buff why not do it?  We even seek out the nude beaches here in Europe when we go on vacation, again if you’re going to tan and you can tan in the buff, do it.

I’ll giggle like a school kid on my death bed if the cause of my demise is skin cancer, and I’ll ask for a beer and a smoke after the diagnosis.

We went there all summer long and it was awesome.    Dripping with sweat from the good old sun Dagmar would ask me if I want to go to the next special ‘honey sauna’ and I’d laugh and laugh.

No dear, I’m covered in my own sweat at the moment and when I get tired of that there’s an ice-cold pool right there to turn-off the heat.  Why would I subject myself to being in a super-hot box when obviously Mr. Sun is right here more than happy to meet my needs, and I’m getting tanned to boot.   You’re ice sauna doesn’t do that does it?

We even talked another couple we’ve been friends with for years and years into coming with us by using phrases like, “look you’ve been in Germany for years, shouldn’t you at least try it,” and “wanna see my weiner?”

Cover of "National Lampoon's Vacation [UM...

Naked vacation with friends, we can invite Chevy Chase and make a movie … only it wasn’t. At all.

I had this whole idea that I’d blog about going to the naked sauna with friends and what that was like.  I even told Oh god my wife is German dude I would but in the end it was about as funny as unpacking the groceries.   Maybe even less funny, depending on what you bought.    They’re good friends, seeing them naked didn’t cause any bit of whacky-funny stories like you’d see in a National Lampoon Vacationmovie, damn it.

Friends if you’re reading this, thanks for nothing, assholes.

Dagmar’s going to proof read this in a moment and say something to the effect of, I thought this was about the weather?   And she’s wrong, because it is about the weather and the sauna because the two go hand in hand damn it.

Last week I scanned and scanned the weather.  I checked the iPhone weather app like I was expecting a call from my dealer, I hit refresh on weather.com and weather underground like a junkie.  I even asked the guy that empties our trash.   Everyone agreed, Saturday would be nice, clear with a high of 70 something.

So what happened Friday?   Sunny and 70 is the correct answer.  What happened Saturday?   Overcast with a 100% chance of rain on the way to the sauna?  Yes it was.  What happened Sunday?   Sunny with a temperature of 73ish you ask, yes it was.

Why are you fucking with me Germany?    Also I think the cops are watching from the retired German neighbor’s house across the street.   Yeah, I sound a bit paranoid.

So, what happened today after I drove home in the 70something degree weather with my windows down enjoying the clear blue sky?   Yeah, I Googled it.  There’s a dip on Thursday, with a chance of rain, but otherwise clear skies and 70s.

I’m totally buying tickets tomorrow, one more ride on the sun train.  Chase the dragon man  …

G-Gank gives me an intervention … the jerk.

Democrats …. Always right except for when they’re wrong and then still mostly right. Yeah G-gank doesn’t do the photo captions. (Photo credit, Wikipedia)

Anyone who is a Jew is the Devil.  Anyone who is a Methodist is freaking jack-off.   Anyone who is Catholic has been brain washed.  Yup there are people that believe this, and say this…. Just like there are people who call you a fucking asshole for the political party you freely choose to endorse. Let’s just suppose that everyone in the United States became a Democrat….  Would the world be a better place?  I don’t think it would, because differences are what challenge people to achieve greater things.

Flag of the United States on American astronau...

Neil Armstrong America’s greatest cyclist. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If we were all Communists, then the space race would have never happened and Neil Armstrong would have been just another guy who raced in the tour de France.

If we were all from Jamaica, sure we would all have killer weed, but shit…. nothing would ever get done because we would all be baked.  (Actually, I firmly believe that the DEA should surrender all confiscated weed to Congress… that would be awesome to see them totally stoned…. it would totally promote harmony.)

You do not have to agree with a person’s political or religious belief but dam it you should not be critical to the point of making personal attacks on that person.  You should commend that person for their beliefs and think openly about the views of others.  It is the closed-minded person who is the real piece of shit for they never expand their thinking and will never achieve greatness.

I lived with a guy who was an atheist and for the life of me I don’t know how he could live his life that way, but I never ridiculed him for his way of thinking.  I have friends who are drum-pounding Democrats but do not think any less of them because of their beliefs.  In fact I try to understand what drives them.  Hell, I have voted for republicans and democrats….  For me it’s not what party they belong to it’s what the individual stands for.

Of course I wish everyone in the world was like me but that would be a really screwed up world.  More importantly, if everyone was like me, I would never be able to get a Tee time at the Golf Course

Now to the point of this whole piece…

When you … I feel … Because …  And I want …

Todd Oliver (the guy running hadafewbeers) please sit down – this is your

Photo caption is “i got nothing” other than I totally stole this from the History Channel. Photo credit, the History Channel.

intervention.

I know you are my friend but:

When you  – say I am an idiot for supporting a republican, or being a Catholic,

I Feel – Angry and Sad.

Because – your words are hurtful I think it jeopardizes our friendship.

And I want – you to be more considerate for my feelings and have a little respect for my freedom of choice.

Is there anyone else in the room that wants to say something to Todd?

Ok, I see some of you are a bit hesitant to speak up and that’s OK.  Just the fact that you are here today re-enforces the fact that you love Todd.  Not the kind of head-banging love that would bestow upon a big-titted stripper but rather the kind of love one gives to a dear friend.

So the next time you are quick to judge any of us who pay homage to God, Buddha, Jesus, or that fucking 6-hose water bong just remember the world is a better place because we are different and not everyone has to think like you…  so stop forcing people to suck on that Democratic Donkey Dick, after all if we all sucked it there would be nothing left for you.

I’ve got a problem with my shorts. I’m sorry but I do.

look they're my fav shorts

If only I had the ability to create a poll …

I’ve got a problem with my shorts.

Screw you they’re my favorite shorts and damn it they deserve an update.

This is important for Christ’s sake.

Yeah, yeah the wife feels better and that dude that drank lemonade and maple syrup and cayenne pepper didn’t die and to hell with him!   Who the fuck thought that was a good idea in the first place?  “Yeah let’s toss some raw lemon spooze, maple syrup, hot pepper and my balls into a glass and call it a ‘purge’, cause ‘purge’ is a hot word right now right?”

I wish I could write fad diets, I’d screw with all of you, one part unicorn, two parts Chinese bear gall bladder, five tears of a five year old … it’s modern day witchcraft and I’d have field day.

Anyway fuck the Master Cleanse dude he’s not dead (but hopefully writing here again), the diet was retarded and back to my shorts.

Also hihi GiGi … you rock.  To hell with you she does.

This is about my shorts.

My shorts man, my shorts.

They’re currently my favorite shorts because my real favorite shorts developed a hole in the butt that was so large the wife tossed them out.

She was right to do it though, damn her she normally is.   I mean you can’t wear them to the neighbor’s BBQ anymore at all.  “Hey great grilled pork Elka, have you seen my ass yet?  No?  Wait a moment and you will.  Hey Hans, did you catch the game?”

So here’s the issue.   They have a hole just above the knee on the right leg.   But every time I sit down my knee pokes through the hole and if I’m not careful, makes the hole bigger.

The quandary you ask, as in, “why the fuck are you bugging me with this bullshit” is this.

Should I just rip the hem off entirely or let it slowly die?

If I just rip off the hem entirely, I’m free of the fear that next Saturday morning I’ll inadvertently put my foot into the leg and rip it off like Bernard Madoff (which is the funniest last name ever, better than Anthony Weiner even, I mean MAD OFF, made off, I just pooped my favorite shorts laughing … ) but that exposes the shorts to undue stress and I’m not sure they can take it.

I need a shorts doctor stat.

I’m aware there are no shorts doctors.

Damn it.

P.S.  Dagmar says, after reading this, I’m just going to throw them out, it’s almost winter.

Yeah, yeah the Olympics … yawn.

Kittens are cute, unless they're killing stuff ...

Kittens are cute, unless they’re killing stuff …

This is a Had A Few Beers Blog first.  This update is a confession, and its not going to be a popular one.  Most of you will exit out of this blog with haste, swear loudly for ever allowing yourself into being fooled into reading this in the first place.  

A few of you will vomit in revulsion.  Someone may in fact faint.

No. I don’t hate kittens (I love kittens).  I’ve never kicked a baby (I love babies) and I’ve never robbed an elderly person (more than once).

It’s just that …

The Olympics bore me.  

There I said it. 

Let the hate mail flow in. 

You see I was born without the sports gene.   I blame my Mom.   Dad’s side of the family has the sports gene, Mom’s side of the family clearly lacks it.

You see I’ll play your goddamn sport, I don’t care what it is I’ll go out on the field and utterly make an ass of myself trying hard and wrecking my body in the process but fuck if I care how professionals or Olympians (is there a difference) play it.   I’ll even enjoy playing (albiet poorly) it.  But I could care less about watching it.  

But I’ll play basketball with you and I’ll suck at it but I’ll try my best.  I’ll get creamed as in “OH SHIT THAT HURT,” by someone twice my size playing American football but I’ll at least get the ball a few yards closer to the goal before that happens.

But when it comes to watching any sport (pro or otherwise) on TV, here is my rating on a scale of one to ten of their importance to me.  Ten being more awesome than a topless beer drinking contest and one being equal to a math test.

College football:  1

Pro sports of any kind: -78

Army vs. Navy Football: 1.002

Army vs. Navy anything else: Who cares?

Baseball: My balls itch, I should Google why my balls itch.

Hockey: see next entry.

Boxing: Jesus, ouch!   Why the hell do they … okay 1.00000003.  No, no it’s like -1.0000001, screw that.

Golf:  I suck, and I had lessons too, GOD I really sucks -1,000,000!

Point is I don’t give a shit about most sports and surely don’t give a shit about the Olympics.   I don’t care if the Chinese swimmer snorted

What the hell do you mean the Chinese have six more medals than ... oh who gives a shit ...

What the hell do you mean the Chinese have six more medals than … oh who gives a shit …

performance enhancement drugs off the Olympic organizer’s penis, then looked into the camera and said “haha American I use ‘roids’ so f’ you”. 

I say load the bastards up on drugs.  We already KNOW what the limits of the human body can do and even if we don’t the difference is measured in like milliseconds.  

With dope these athletes will absolutely shatter the records.  The testing shouldn’t be a matter of ‘do they have performance enhancing drugs in their systems’ it should be do they have ‘enough performance enhancing drugs in their systems?’

Did competitor X from country Y just test positive for excessive amounts of feral-dog testicle extraction?  

Yes? 

This year's Olympic Games are sponsored by Anabolic steroids!

This year’s Olympic Games are sponsored by Anabolic steroids!

Great get them on the field and for the love of god let the fans know.

I’m also the guy that wrote to Lance Armstrong and recommended that he put a nitrous canister into his anus for added performance during the race’s final leg so I might just be outside the mainstream here.

My phone just buzzed and that’s means there’s an ‘important news update.’  This happened because I set my phone to only buzz when there are important updates.

Like you know when Madonna flashed her over 50-year-old ass at a concert in Rome ?   Those kinds of updates.   You know, important shit updates.

No the ‘news alert’ is about someone, and I assume it’s an American someone, won a gold in something at the Olympics.   You can be on a cereal box now, congradufuckinglations.

We are so doing this wrong.

Which leads me to the following statement;  fuck sports on TV all together.

Seriously fuck them, fuck the players, fuck the coaches and mostly fuck you, the fans.

What the fuck do they do?  Why did Joe Paterno have a fucking statue on campus in the first place?  Because he led a group of young men to better fight over a football than another group of young men? 

A football costs like what, twelve bucks, maybe twenty, I don’t know.  Maybe it’s a hundred bucks but for fuck’s sake please stop fighting over it assholes. You’re not heroes to anyone and the game is pointless.   It may be fun to watch, sure, but it’s fucking pointless.

Same with the Olympics, and oddly they piss me off more.  Let’s just play a thought game.   What if fucking Guam wins EVERY gold medal there is.  I don’t care what the contest, they win every gold medal there is in it.  

The day after the Olympics, Russia is still Russia, Germany is still Germany, China is still China and Guam is still Guam.  

I don’t get it, I never will.  

I see the appreciation for a talented sports figure, I do.  Anyone that has trained themselves to that level deserves a look; they deserve your ‘appreciation’ maybe but do they deserve the level of fame they achieve? 

Certainly they do not. 

The Roman’s got this crap right 2,000 years ago.   Gladiators, charioteers and actors were famous but they were the lower rung run of society and you wouldn’t be caught dead talking to one.  Okay maybe it shouldn’t be that bad but they’re not glowing examples of all that’s good in the world with the exception of Michael Phelps and the bong incident, which was hysterical and classic.

My boss reads this blog.   I know because he has had to ‘talk to me’ once, twice or every update about the content here. 

He love’s sports.

I don’t. 

One of the most interesting talks we’ve ever had (non-work related at least) is about the whole Penn state fiasco.   

Child molestation aside, and no you can’t ever put that aside, I’ll never understand why we elevate people who are basically either A: chasing something meaningless (the ball) or B: directing the chasing of something meaningless (the game result) to hero like status.

Why did we do that?  What beyond their ability to chase a ball around did they do to tell us they were good people?  Sure there are exceptions, but they prove the rule.  They chase a ball around a court for no purpose other than it pays well.  You followed the ‘ball’ well, why?  It paid a lot of money and/or fame and/or the attention it gets you that’s why.

The result makes no difference and my brain cannot swallow it.

You know an award I could get behind?  The award that thanks Guatemala, China, Japan, the U.S., Russia and that country we all hate, yeah that one, for putting a manned mission on Mars and returning them home safely.  That award means something.  

Not to you?   Fuck Mars you say?  I don’t agree but I can get behind your disagreement, let’s put it toward ending world hunger, disease, war or stopping me from ever blogging again.

Any of that is better than the amount of effort we spend on fencing, I don’t care what your nationality. 

Because seriously fencing, who the fuck fences?

Ten THOUSAND views thank you all so … crap where’s my stuff iTunes, I hate you iTunes!

So we’ve hit a milestone, 10,000 hits, which I’m pretty sure, considering I started this crap started on a day I don’t remember back in like February , means that there have been (had a few beers math) like a million hits a day over the course of all those days.

Okay no jokes, but still it’s like 250 hits over all those days.

Most of you coming here, admittedly, are looking for sauna boners but still an impressive number.  Also the big joke there is that yes, sauna boners is still the hottest (get it?) search term here.

I want this update to be about thanking all of you, everyone that reads this.  I mean it, thanks.   The stuff I type here is, while fun, sometimes …

FUCKING ITUNES ATE MY SHIT AND I HATE MY FUCKING IPHONE.

Steve Jobs I curse you sir.

Yeah, no I don’t really curse Mr. Jobs but yeah really I hate iTunes right now.

My iPhone has exactly one band’s album on it and one song by another band on it.    I have an entire album by Mariachi El Bronx and one song by Alexandra Stan (Mr. Saxobeat).

Why, why do you hate me iTunes?   Why?

Why, why do you hate me iTunes? Why?

Both of which I bought while drunk.

Everything else has evaporated into so many digital ghosts.

So, fuck you Apple.

To add insult to injury, Apple kindly provides you with a list of every fucking purchase you ever made on iTunes and HOLY shit there a lot of stuff that never made it off my old iPod to my iTouch to my iPhone 3 to my iPhone 4 and FUCK YOU want that stuff damn it!

While on a business trip  a few months ago, while tanked, I purchased  from my iPhone mind you, three episodes of Futurama and they have been stuck in my download cue since I was born.

Can’t download them, can’t delete them from the queue, can’t stab Steve in the eye with a bar straw.

Just stuck looking at them, never deleted, never watched, never downloaded.

Everything else downloads, not them.   A constant reminder of a night-time decision to watch a video on my iPhone, forever I guess.   Stop judging my night-time video choices Steve!  You’re being a dick!

Also protip kids, never purchase video downloads like this from your iPhone while drunk in Eastern European countries, it throws your credit card into anti-fraud hysterics.

You’ll have to talk the credit card help line lady off the ledge, literally.

“Stay with me, Fatima, I was in the Ukraine on business, I bought a funny video from iTunes, no one stole anything, don’t jump please!”

Some of you Mactarded fanatics are rolling your eyes right now and closing your browsers.   Don’t hit that little ‘x’ or whatever it is you elitist freaks select to close a ‘window’ (yeah a WINDOW, as in WINDOWS based).

It is likely my fault I lost my copy of the songs, “little black backpack” and “I’m popular”.  I’m also an idiot for downloading them I freely admit.   It is my fault though; I did this to myself, somehow.   You see back in the sane and rational world of non-Apple shit you have to manage your content, and I’m VERY comfortable doing that.

Download all your photos to this folder, all your videos to that folder.   Put all your important documents into another folder and hide your porn in a folder called, “totally not porn honey, never look in this folder, only boring shit is in here.”

Then, when you have to change computers you … wait for it … COPY THOSE FUCKING FOLDERS TO YOUR NEW COMPUTER.

Meaning you still HAVE them, computer after computer after computer after …

Retardedly too simple for iTunes it seems.

Which leads me to, Apple hates America.

They do!

They hate property rights too, those assholes.    They want to punch George Washington in the balls, They hate my copy of Lord of two boobs and return of the boobs too, fuckers.

In short they hate freedom.

Why can’t I just go into iTunes and tell it re-download all the shit I ever downloaded and be quick about it?   Because of piracy I know but why isn’t there an “I fucked up” button.

My life needs an “I fucked up” button on SO many levels (shout out to you Dagmar, love you baby!) but shit how hard would this one be?

Assholes.

Sure I know ‘kind of’ how it happened.  My iPhone was full of like a million gigs of “other” which when googled told me that all I had to do was connect to iTunes, do a factory reset, resynch and LOSE ALL MY SHIT.

They left the ‘lose all my shit’ off that helpful recommendation and fuck if I know where my shit is on the old computer.   I have a lot of searching to do in C:\windowsprogramsfuckifIknowshitisitinhere searching to do if I ever want to hear another Pogues song soon.

So once more, fuck you iTunes, fuck you Apple, fuck you Macintosh and Steve, I’m sorry you’re dead but the shit you did pisses me off.

Fuck you my iPhone, really fuck you.

But mostly, really mostly, thanks for reading, assuming you got down here, down this far I mean.   Some of you put up with REALLY low quality, non-entertaining cat videos, plastic toys on a BMW’s hoods, photos of beer cans, rants about the Catholic church and posts about why I … well if you read this far you read it all likely.

Thanks for stopping me in the hallway and telling me you liked what I wrote, thanks for calling me and telling me you liked what I wrote, thanks for emailing me and telling me you liked what I wrote.  Thank you to ever complete stranger, and there are many of you, that reached out.   That’s the coolest, people out of the blue saying “wow I just laughed cause of what you wrote.”  You folks are flattering and scary, I mean I thought I was funny, I thought my friends thought I was funny but … STOP STALKING ME.   I kid, thanks man it’s ALWAYS flattering.

Thanks, honestly.  I’m flattered and shocked you all read, participate and come back.

Thanks.

No bad words, no rants, no jokes.  Thanks, you reading this, sharing it (always share it)  or telling me you laughed is why I will do it again tomorrow.  Maybe it will be popular, maybe it will fall flat, I don’t care.  I’m just glad you’re here and, I hope, having fun.

A few shout outs.   Special thanks to Val Henderson of course, for kicking me in the ass to do this and putting up with my juvenile shouts of joy when a post early on broke 100 reads.   Thanks to Dagmar for calling me out (here and in private – SAUNA BONERS HONEY!).   Thanks to Marni Sandberg for always reading.

moar of these!

Moar of these! Really I need like a million more if the way ahead is going to work.

Thanks to GG for always coming through, well mostly coming through, with the twins.  Thanks to  Lynn Davis for putting up with me.  Thanks to Maggie for telling me, years ago, YEARS AGO, “wow you can really write”.  Thanks to Alex for suggesting I do this 8 million years ago (I should have listened to you dude) and …

Finally, sauna boner hopefuls, I’m sorry there are no sauna boners.  But I’m glad you’re here.

Need help annoying your partner during long drives, this updates for you!

Summer’s here and like many of you Dagmar and I just spent a wonderful, relaxing and nightmarish 20 odd hours in the car together.

Oh what a joy, the things you learn when you’re cooped up in a car with someone are remarkable.

Yes, yes I DO think history pod casts are interesting even after 8 hours!

Yes, yes I DO think history pod casts are interesting even after 8 hours!

For instance did you know that while the someone is exiting an autobahn rest stop, madly working the gears, checking mirrors and judging whether or not that Porsche in the left lane, driving a reasonable and insane 200 mph, is going to suddenly change lanes, that’s the perfect time to ask them to hand you things.

“Honey I know you’re pumping the breaks like a madman because of another of Germany’s infamous stau’s has appeared out of thin air but hand me that water bottle.”

Perfectly reasonable request.

In her defense she was probably close to insanity at this point because I’d subjected her to a collective 15 hours of Mike Duncan’s “The History of Rome” podcast.

Now I Love (yes, with a capital L) me some, “The History of Rome”, I love it so much I’ve listed to all the podcasts three times!   Yeah I’m dork so what, Cato the Elder would have said … oh never mind, sorry.  I should have been clued in though during hour 13 of the podcast when she literally started yelling at the radio, “Shut up, Shut up, Shut up!”

So maybe I missed a sign or something.

Also honey I give you a ‘C’ when it comes to bringing up uncomfortable subjects.    Sure you get an ‘A’ on subject matter, why WAS I flirting with that girl, but a ‘F’ on timing … I mean come on we were pulling into the driveway at that point.

Another point is that yes, maybe I am a male-chauvinistic pig but when I grew up dad did all the driving.  If they were both in the car, pops had the wheel.  I see it as the man’s duty, like mowing the lawn, re-shingling  the roof and looking at porn.   “No honey I can’t go to bed yet, this porn’s not going to watch itself is it?”

You, yeah you reading this, do you keep change in the car?  You know in the divider thing between the passenger and driver’s seat?  Maybe you keep it in the ashtray?  Do you?  If so never, I repeat Never, let Dagmar in your car.    This type of change storage is an affront to the very laws of our existence and it must be policed up, sorted and stored in a proper change receptacle (this little bag in her purse).    Loose change (both the kind in my car and the retarded September 11 2001 conspiracy movie) drive her nuts.  Makes no never mind that the next time I need 35 euro cents I’m screwed, everything has to be organized.

Which leads to another fun game I call, ’round up the trash!’  Now I’m all in favor of having a car that’s reasonably clean and who am I kidding, without anyone else in my car the interior quickly begins to resemble a public landfill.   But I’m not so stupid that I don’t pick up before she, or anyone else, gets in the car but it’s always amusing that during long trips she become litter patrol super captain of the world!    For instance, I’m a filthy smoker and yeah, yeah don’t smoke it’s disgusting and filthy (really don’t), but I’ll often put empty cigarette packs in a little cubby hole on the bottom of the driver’s side door panel.   Heck tons of stuff can go there, empty coffee cups, empty drink bottles, tissues whatever.

These are great opportunities for her to ask me to hand her things during my before mentioned attempts at passing a 1950s Winnebago while someone tries to park their Lamborghini in my ass.

“Todd can you hand me that empty cigarette pack?”

“Sure thing my love, just as soon as I’m done merging into a construction zone surrounded by Italian drivers.  I mean if we live that is.”

This is more of a suggestion in italy, I mean if you want to go right who am I to stop you?

This is more of a suggestion in italy, I mean if you want to go right who am I to stop you?

Which, unrelated to my lovely bride and her adorable passenger habits brings me to crossing international European borders.   Entering Austria from Germany is a yawn, like visiting a sibling, they’re the same as you but different.  Entering Italy from Austria is akin to visiting Charles Manson wearing a shirt that says, stab me please while handing him a knife.

Want to drive 70 KPH in the fast lane, go right ahead in Italy.   Lane changes need not be indicated by signal lights, just change lanes damn it, extra points if you cut someone off and then slow down.   Letting someone merge into your lane means you have a small penis and yes, yes you can slow down to check out the hot chick.

Crossing back into Germany it’s like everyone flips a switch and the rules count again.

“Holy shit, did you see that?   That dude just used his ‘blinker’ to indicate he was making a lane change.  Someone should tell the Italian’s about this!”

I think I’m going to get a lot of support from the men reading this next point.   If the start time, for getting on the road, is agreed upon, say 9 a.m., then 8:45 is not the time to start elaborate philosophical discussions.   See we were visiting our best friends (hey Maggie and Alex) and I guess, the fifteen minute mark is the time to start a discussion about ‘what it all means’ or ‘why are we here’ or ‘are Oreo’s better than Chips ahoy?”.   But Alex I do want to add that I’m in.  In  retrospect, I’m down with the Somalia plan but you’ll have to navigate because …

Listen officer, the GPS TOLD me to drive over this guy's lawn.

Listen officer, the GPS TOLD me to drive over this guy’s lawn.

I confession I suck at directions.  Thank god for GPS.  I failed land navigation as a young soldier at the (then called PLDC) Warrior Leader’s Course.  I failed it AND because of a crap-ton of snow we were doing it in garrison.  Those of you that know what I’m talking about are laughing at me right now, go ahead … dicks.   For those that don’t know what I’m talking about the instructor basically told me, “go four blocks that way, turn left two blocks and tell me what the sign there says.”  Yeah, I fucked that up, repeatedly.So YES honey you DO have a better sense of direction than I do but that’s like me saying I’m better at golfing to a retarded, physically handicapped 5 year old.  It’s not much of a victory.

I’m no longer allowed to talk about sauna boners and this is not really about sauna boners

I’m on another business trip and was informed by my wife today that she ‘read the blog.’ Which was odd because when I told her I was going to start a blog phrases like “you’re an idiot”, “go mow the lawn” and “I can’t wait until dancing with the stars comes on” were tossed about.

I always suspected, but could never prove, that she had snuck a peak or two at the blog. In fact I’d even conned her into proofreading a few of the entries. So both of those updates that were generally free of spelling errors, incomplete sentences and didn’t use the work fuck five times in a row where ones she proof read*.

I knew there were a few sentences or phrases or even thoughts here that she might, question. It’s not Howard Stern circa the mid 90’s wife level of “what the hell is he doing?” But still. There’s photo after photo of cleavage shots that don’t belong to her (I’ve thought about doing an entire update about cleavage shots … look for an exciting poll regarding that topic later in this update, if I remember! Oh crap I did remeber but I put it here and not at the end, because I’m awesome), there was a discussion of vacuum cleaner sex and hell there’s Sasha, remember Sasha? I do! Hi Sasha!

Also Blitzboy76 wants me to drink more and write more. I hear and obey Blitz, I hear and obey.

So what was her comment about the blog? It was, as you’ve guessed, sauna boners.

Now I realize this blog, because of a self-fulfilling prophecy at this point, is dangerously close to becoming the “INTERNET’S NUMBER ONE STOPPING POINT FOR ALL THING NAKED SUANA”. Hell I’m considering selling “sauna boner” coffee mugs, “naked sauna” tee-shirts here and … well no I’m not.

Her point was, and she was only mildly angry, that I shouldn’t write about sauna boners because people would think I was some kind of pervert.

I would like to all of you know that I am not some kind of pervert; I’m a specific kind of pervert thank-you-very-much.

When pressed, she explained, that sauna boners were not the kind of thing I should be writing about because again, people would think I was a pervert. When pressed, as in “I used the term in a very joking manner, never once referring to an actual erection (okay there had been that ONE time but that was ages ago) so I’m not sure how you could conclude that?”** She had no answer, meaning she hadn’t read much other than the headline.

I’ve known her too long for these kinds of shenanigans damnit!

Was I a better writer, better journalist, had I ‘had a few beers’ or even just been a dick I would have grilled her about her objection to the term.

Me: What exactly is wrong with the term sauna boners?

Her: It makes you sound like a pervert!

Me: I see perhaps erections in a sauna would be better?

Her: No, no that’s not what I mean.

Me: Wood in a hot wooden sweatbox?

Her: ewww!

Me: Stiffy in a sauna, that way there are two S’s in the phrase, but we should be careful with things like SS.

Her: No that’s not what I mean!

Me: Maybe something medical sounding? “Fully aroused male subject inside of a temperature controlled enviro …

Her: Shut up!

I wish it had gone that way but alas it did not. I asked her what was wrong with that term in the context I used it.

She of course couldn’t answer that because she hadn’t read it. I knew this, of course. Back, years back, when I was an Army journalist there had been a similar fight. She was mad about something I had written and when pressed I quickly learned she hadn’t read what I’d written.

Taking the time machine back to ; ; ; three, I was a young and eager U.S. Army journalist. Oh boy, eager beaver indeed! At the time there were two kinds of enlisted journalists, those that gave a fuck and those that didn’t. A sort of Tale of Two Cites opening paragraph if you will of Army journalists, meaning it was exactly the same as today. Most of the assignments the editor handed out were of the “cover boy scout troop 1043’s race-car derby this weekend” or “Go to this housing area’s meeting and find out if they’re going to change garbage pick-up day to Thursday”.

Boring shit right?

But then there were the other assignments, the ones where you, and I’m not trying to toot my own horn, but my horn shall be tooted (which is much dirtier than sauna boners for those of you still reading this), lived in the field or worked a long weekend or even worked all night. I always took these, always. I point this out because sometimes when something real to report on (real for Army journalism) came along I got first fucking dibs. Sometimes real was covering a forest fire on base and me and another of the journalists, John Barker, tag teamed that like meth addicted prostit … oh wait that’s as bad as sauna boners, maybe worse.

But a really, really sweet assignment came up when the installation I worked for canned the head chef of the officer’s club. I don’t know how much I want to disclose … okay fuck it, it was the chef at the United States Military Academy at West Point. The fact that they just hired a new one was my story but my editor turned me on to a lot of negative, very early, internet bitching about the old chef’s fuck ups. When I interviewed the new chef I had all the bad-ass questions about how he would address the complaints of the customers and to his credit he had all the answers. It wasn’t Pulitzer but it was Army Pulitzer …

Anyway as you can predict the story ran with me saying what a douche the old dude was and what a shit-hot addition the new guy was about to be.

Moar Boobs!

Anyone that just read that deserves a look at some cleavage … here you go.

Did I mention that Dagmar worked there? Not as the head chef that just got canned but as a bartender. Some faithful ally of the old Chef’s regime had put the bug into her ear that I had called the establishment a filthy cesspool of filthy cess or something.

Basically, without doing what I just did in our imaginary back and forth at the start of this, she called and asked how I could call the place she worked at a shitty place to eat and I replied that I hadn’t, I’d said it was kicking ass these days. Yada, yada, three bags full, have you read it honey? No was the reply.

And that kids is how you write a fuck lot of words about sauna boners and never once refer to a sauna boner.

Also honey, if you’re still here, Sauna boners.

* There are a few others that proof read for me … they remain nameless as long as they keep paying me to remain nameless … July’s coming up girls!

** Look there’s plenty of retarded shit here that I would have to defend, maybe, if she ever read it. Sasha, the second helicopter (she doesn’t KNOW YET … SHHH!) and that fact that on the last night of this trip I plan to have a private candlelit ceremony where I knight my left testicle Sir Droopy

Breast moles, sauna boners and what the hell is a ‘dorie gary broken’?

If you follow this blog at all, and I’m talking to BOTH OF YOU RIGHT NOW, you know that I took a two-week hiatus. During that drunken black out break I became afraid to check the WordPress stats page, because a ‘no views today’ would have made me cry like an infant in a puddle of my own pathetic.

And I would have been naked so don’t picture that in your head – to late? Shit, sorry.

But eventually the little voice my head said, “dear dickhead, you umm going to update this fucking thing or what? You’ve got one that’s almost ready to go. How about not surfing for porn and or playing games tonight and like taking 10 fucking minutes to, I don’t know, update this shit.”

The little voice was right and I was spending entirely too much time at ratemyrack.com (Emily YOU’RE STILL NUMBER 1 baby!) and not enough time making an ass out of myself here, for your enjoyment. So I uploaded business trip tips and thought, “fuck it Sasha hasn’t called in like a week, we’re good.”

Then I looked at the stats.

Jesus. Christ. Fuck. God. Almighty. What. The. Fuck?

There are days here that I don’t post that get more hits than days that I did post.

I’d love to say it’s because of all of you, the ones that are literally reading this now. I know you came back to share some of my lovely wit with your friends and family. Maybe you showed grandma that wonderful update where I used the words tits, beer, fuck and ball hair all in the same sentence, I mean that was an epic sentence but alas, it was not the reason the stats were still high.

See I wasn't kidding ... it's all about suana boners at had a few beers

See I wasn’t kidding … it’s all about sauna boners at had a few beers

It’s because, and you likely know this, sauna boners. Yeah sauna boners. I knew it would be sauna boners that saved me. (By the way that sentence has never before been written, ‘I knew it would be sauna boners that saved me’ … FIRST BABY).

D.C. Dana has awesome search terms, “mars robot, heat shield, kittens,” as an example. I never get cool search terms that includes robots and only one kitten hit. It was ‘kitten boners’ though so not much of a win there.

Two word press bloggers I follow, Sweet mother and Oh my god my wife is German I bet don’t get too many boner hits. Okay Oh my god my wife is German probably gets a few but they are the good kind of boner hits such as: are boners okay in Germany vice Boner hot boning in boning country. Actually I have never had a hit for, boner hot boning in boning country but I expect to any minute, mainly cause I’ll add it to the tags so … there’s that.

The point is boners are keeping me up (yeah, yeah you see what I did there) hits wise so … thanks. I’m happy you like reading about erections in mixed company saunas, even though they don’t really happen. And I love that you come here looking for porn (has your search engine of choice no image preview function) with terms like, “German sauna erection” and find my dumb ass spout off about Rush Limbaugh or the horror that IS the Golden Corral.

Then there are the other ones. The weird, what the hell, hits. Vacuum cleaner sex, which okay I get it’s a fucking (get it) niche but besides a weird rant I did a month ago, I NEVER MENTIONED fucking vacuums. Sure I’ve looked at the vacuum and though, could I? But I never wrote about that, until now I mean.

Here’s a fun one, “boob moles.” That was an actual search term for this blog (more than once), ‘boob moles’ and again I’m left wondering why. I KNOW on a base level why, I have the most

Sometimes I play connect the boob mole with these photos ... mostly not.

Sometimes I play connect the boob freckles (they’re NOT MOLES asshole!) with these photos but it’s hard with all my drooling .

awesome friend that on demand sends me cleavage photos and her boobs have moles on them (it makes them hotter oddly) but WHO THE FUCK COMES HERE TO INVESTIGATE BOOB MOLES …

Here’s a fun search term that four of our wonderful internet neighbors used to come to this blog, “trolls have sex with female elf.” And honestly who among us hasn’t googled trolls have sex with female elf a few times but I’m just not sure why the internet algorithms would point them here.

Finally there is this search term, ‘dorie gary broken’. Yeah, whatever that is. I Googled dorie gary broken and Google basically told me to shut the hell up

I quit, okay I don’t quit but I want to quit.