My flu is gone! All better! This is how I celebrate not being sick!!!
My morning ritual
I do this every morning as soon as I get out of bed! I swear.
T-pisode 111: T Does London in 3 Paragraphs
This is how I went to the office everyday in London. Seriously.
*I’ve decided to do a series of T-pisodes that capture my travels throughout my life. In 3 paragraphs. I’ll put them up every once in a while. Some places I’ve been to a few times, others only once. And some I will probably never go back again because of what went down there.
Ah jolly ol’ London England! The mother country…..right? I don’t know. I do know that this was the first time I was sent on a business trip for work where I was pretty much well behaved. I know! Crazy right? I was both pissed and envious of myself at the same time. This trip really let me know that my ass was growing up. I was asked to go to London as a representative of my department this past Summer. It was an international event and we had about 24 people from 17 different countries. Four days and all business. It was an amazing opportunity. Mind you, up until this trip my only exposure to London were Guy Ritchie movies, Clockwork Orange, Austin Powers and Harry Potter. I had no idea what the fuck to expect in London. But I was pumped! Plus I finally would have the chance to get my first stamp in my passport. Stupid ass Bahamas didn’t give me one when I went on that hell cruise. And Canada, AKA America Jr. doesn’t do stamping. So I practiced my “bloody ‘ells,” my “cheerios,” and my “ello govnuhs” and London was on!
Heathrow airport is the size of a city. I had to walk at least 16 miles. At least. To a train that they call the Tube out there but turns out it wasn’t the Tube but a regular train that took me to a Tube station where I had to get a cab that looked like a mini-cooper hearse. Still with me? This cab driver gunned it down the streets Jason Bourne style on the opposite side of the street for no reason! He was cool as shit. My office and hotel were in the “City.” London Town (that’s what us familiars call it) is kind of like NYC in the way that it is broken up in boroughs. My hotel was right at the corner where I could turn and walk The River Thames. London’s version of Boston’s Charles River. I had to work my ass off the entire time. 12-13 hour work days with the 5 hour time difference from Boston then 2 hour group dinners didn’t leave much time for exploring or banging hottie local chicks. But I did get away for a few hours one evening and walked The River Thames. Which unbeknownst to me, brought me to The Eye. Which is an hour long ferris wheel where you get to see Big Ben, Parliament (insert your National Lampoon European Vacation joke here like I did), all types of important castles and shit, a building shaped like a pickle and a bunch of flats (AKA apartments). It was pretty sweet. It filled my temporary touristy hunger.
After my sight seeing adventure I walked through the city and went down every little side street and into every nook I could find. I’m from Boston. No one was going to whip my ass. All the dudes out there were 80lbs rocking skinny jeans. Plus they were all so fucking nice! I don’t know if it was the proper English accent but everyone was nice. And not everyone was from England. London really is an international hub. People from so many different countries just chilling and working and being nice and shit. This niceness was overwhelming at times. Tons of smoking hot women too. They all looked and dressed like models. Except for the ones with bad skin and crooked teeth. That stereotype is real. And there wasn’t any happy medium with the food. I think it had something to do with the water but the low end pub food and sandwiches tasted like dog shit. But the high end restaurant meals were some of the best I ever had! As I walked around London I could only think about how great it would be to come here on a real vacation with a chick instead of finding a chick there and handling my bizness T style! This showed me how much I’ve changed by thinking this way. Plus I really loved this place. And now I really want to bring my mother and nieces there because it would be awesome for them to see some real life castles. I want to go back to London. Again and again. It is now my second favorite city. Only behind Boston. I didn’t see any flying kid wizards or any organized “Lock, Stock & 2 Smoking Barrels” crime. Maybe next time. Because London is amazing. But I love Boston the best.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
Did you like this T-pisode? Then you must like comedy, originality, cool lists, real talk, sports, dating, women and awesomeness? So why aren’t you liking T-blawg on Facebook and following on Twitter? Show that you are awesome and click the “Like” & “Follow” buttons in the blue bar to the left!
#wouldwife #ThoseLips #TPotential
Love me some good chick lips! And Irina Shayk got those good chick lips alright!
T-pisode 110: The Heart, The Mind & The Penis
"Sometimes the little head tells the big head what to do." -A Bronx Tale
Ladies. This T-pisode is for you. I’m going to let you in behind the guy wizard curtain one more time! I’m on this whole dating advice kick lately and I’m going to keep the momentum going! Do you want to know how us guys think when it comes to women? Seriously. Forget what you think you know. Unlearn those life dating and relationship lessons. Clear your minds ladies. Here’s how guys think when it comes to women in our lives. Ready? We think with our heart, our mind and our penis. Sometimes it’s just one. Sometimes it’s two. Sometimes on the rare occasion it’s all three. Here’s how we do it and the difference between the three.
Let’s start with the penis of course!
The Penis
This is obvious. Mr. Winky 9 out of 10 times tells us what to do when it comes to women. The bastard has a mind of it’s own and it’s power sometimes is overwhelming. Our penis is tied to your physical attraction. Straight up. It notices and wants your boobs, your ass, your lips, your legs, your eyes, your hair and mostly, your vagina. It doesn’t want to date. It doesn’t want to love. It doesn’t want to marry. On it’s own the penis wants some immediate joy and then to be done with you. He’s a little fucker! Pun intended. He’s even more of a prick when he’s drunk. But he’s what makes us men and let’s not bullshit. Women love penis. Act all “ewww” and shit. But you know it. I know it. We all know it. He sees you and wants you and that’s that. He usually gets the ball rolling for us guys. We start most conversations with women because of him. But remember ladies, just because you get the penis doesn’t mean you’re special. We give the penis before we think sometimes. And we definitely give the penis way before we give our hearts.
The Mind
How do you know you’re in a guy’s head? I’ll tell you! You’re in my head/every dude’s head when I listen to you. When I pay attention. When I hear and see the things you like to do and say and figure out a way to make that happen for you. Whether it’s a small gesture. A planned out date. A vacation destination. A gift. A birthday. Anything that has me thinking about you and how to make you happy and to keep you liking me. You’re in my mind. You stimulate it. Most likely along with my penis! ZING. No seriously. You speak. I listen. A conversation with you makes me want to tell you things about me. We have an intellectual connection. Not just the physical. This is a good thing. If I’m listening and showing it, you got the mind honey.
The Heart
Most of the time, the heart is the hardest thing for a guy to give to a woman. But honestly? It’s a case by case basis. Like most guys, I’m not throwing it out there for every chick I meet. Every chick I date. Every chick I bang. Plus, my heart is even colder than most guys. But in general, you have a guy’s heart when it’s only you. There is no other woman. And I/we will let you know that. You’re the one we call not just text. You’re the one we want to see. You’re the one we want to be with. And it WILL BE KNOWN. To you. A hotter chick walks by, I don’t see it. I see you. The game is on, I skip it to be with you. You will know who I am, where I come from and where I’m going because I want you to know. I trust you. I want you to care because I care. You have my heart. No games. No bullshit. You have a guy’s heart when he lets you know you’re the only one, a priority above everything else and you know it. BUTTTTT!!!! Here’s the rub. If you don’t have his mind as well, you don’t have him entirely. What the hell does that mean you say?! Of course you have the penis at this point. But you can have my heart and I can still think you’re drama. I still know you’re psycho. I see that you are mean to people. My mind is thinking! I still think there is another woman out there who is better for me because even though I have feelings for you, you’re not the one. My mind is stopping my heart. My penis is still loving the shit out of you though!
So. You need all three ladies to “get” a man. Again. I’m not talking sex. You’re a woman. You can get that easy! I’m not talking dating either. You can get dates. If you really want to know that point when you have a guy you’re into, you need to have all three from him. The penis, the mind and the heart. How do you know when you have all three? Well listen to ol’ T! Get closer. Closer. Ready? You know that moment when you’re together? In his bedroom. Maybe it’s the first time in there. Maybe it’s the tenth time. Maybe it’s been casual. Maybe it’s been serious. But that moment. In his bedroom. When you get up to leave to put your clothes back on and he pulls you back? Tells you not to go. Doesn’t want you to leave. Wants you to stay the night. Pulls you back into bed. Wraps his arms and legs around you. Just to sleep?! You got him. You got all three. You’re in my heart. I’m thinking about you now and if and when I’ll see you again so I need you to stay. And of course, my penis likes you. Really likes you. That’s how you know. Now it’s up to you now that you have them.
The Heart, The Mind & The Penis. How guys think. BOOM.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
Did you like this T-pisode? Then you must like comedy, originality, cool lists, real talk, sports, dating, women and awesomeness? So why aren’t you liking T-blawg on Facebook and following on Twitter? Show that you are awesome and click the “Like” & “Follow” buttons in the blue bar to the left!
Say your prayers Timmy!!!
My old neighbor and God....Tom F'n Brady!
My “Why Hello” Blog
This is my introduction blog. This is me saying hello to you through the world of blog writing. So allow myself to introduce….myself. I’m kind of a writer. I’ve written a few film & television scripts. Some of which have been read. Some of which are stuck in Hollywood limbo and some of which have been tossed in the trash. But not only do I write screenplays, I also write countless Facebook updates daily which usually either entertain or offend my followers or sometimes both. I also tweet on Twitter like a son of a bitch! So all of that makes me a writer. A paid writer? Not yet. Soon though. I’m also sort of a social media mogul guy. Recently, I partnered with a buddy of mine and we started our own company that will unleash an abundance of sites, blogs & smart phone apps into the world which will be sure to slow work production down faster than a model slash bartender slash wannabe reality show starlet trying to go down on Tiger Woods. What? Too much? That’s me. I’m a wise ass. And I always take it there.
I’m all about a lot of things but especially pop culture, sports, working out, women, having something to say, going out, enjoying single guy life and Boston. Oh yes. Boston. I’m fiercely loyal to my city and everything in it. I also have this inept yet natural ability to get myself in and out of some odd, funny, sometimes downright insane situations in this city! So take everything I mentioned in these two paragraphs so far, throw it all into a pot of confidence or stupidity, pour in a lot of opinions (none which are based on fact), stir in a little offensive humor (ok, a lot), add some in your face honesty (like really in your face), then sprinkle a shit load of uninhibited ambition on it all and you get…..well, entertainment. You get me.
I’m writing this blog for the same reasons I write scripts. For the same reasons I have Facebook & Twitter. For the same reasons I send my friends & family crazy YouTube videos. For the same reasons I text movie quotes. For the same reasons I started a social media company. To give you something that will make you laugh, make you feel, make you think. It’s what I love doing and hopefully you’ll get that out of this blog. A blog is a recording of one’s opinions, personality & lifestyle I say. If you want sense & structure or a literary masterpiece, go elsewhere. If you want refreshing honesty & entertainment then you’ve come to the right place. Just keep coming back and you’ll enjoy the show. I promise. Because just like Russell Crowe once said “Are you not entertained?! Is this not why you are here?!”
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Festivus” Blog
Festivus. My favorite holiday of them all! It was created by the father of a writer on “Seinfeld” and made popular on the show years ago and I along with hundreds of other people (“Seinfeld” fans, Wikipedia users) have been celebrating it ever since. It happens on December 23. Two days before Christmas. It’s tagline is “Festivus for the rest of us.” It’s purpose is to have a holiday for the people who refuse to get caught up in the insanity of the other holidays during this time of the year. And it’s traditions are unmatched.
What are the traditions of Festivus? Well there is the “Festivus Pole” instead of a tree. A plain pole without any decoration. Mine is rested in the corner of my living room. There are the “Feats of Strength” where the party isn’t over until the head of the household is pinned to the ground. There are “Festivus Miracles”. Like Megan Fox lying under my “Festivus Pole” wearing nothing but mittens when I wake up Festivus morning. And then there is my favorite tradition of them all. The “Airing of Grievances”! This is the part where you get to tell everybody how they have disappointed you over the past year. Time for my grievances. And my list is long.
Here is my list of people who have disappointed me this past year:
Tom Brady
Not because you are not playing like the old Tom Brady. You’re still doing well considering you missed a whole season with an injury. No. My grievance is because you are moving out of my neighborhood and I can no longer tell hot chicks I live near Tom Brady. You’re messing my game up man. My “Tom Brady is my neighbor” line is dead. RIP.
The Red Sox
You guys let me down this year. Plain & simple. Get back on the juice David Ortiz! I feel every player should be on steroids. I paid $100 for this ticket, I want home runs! Now Yankees fans have another World Series to brag about all year while us Sox fans are left pulling our collective pud. Good job ’09 Red Sox!
President Obama
My grievance isn’t with the bad things you have done your first year in office because you haven’t done anything bad. In fact, you haven’t done anything at all! Dude, do something besides talk shows, All-Star games & drinking beer on tv. Remember all the idiots celebrating when you won the election? They’ve been almost as quiet as you. I voted for you. So I guess I have a grievance with myself too. More on that later.
Every girl under the age of 24
You have made me come to terms with my own mortality this year. Not because I’m getting older and can’t get you hot young chicks anymore. I can, but I just can’t take you anymore! Yes you look hot with your tight bodies and even tighter dresses, but shit you are stupid! Don’t talk. Just dance honey.
The Jersey Shore
My beef isn’t with you idiotic, Italian stereotyping meat heads and sluts. No. It’s with the fact that I vowed to never watch unscripted, shitty reality shows and this show has me watching! I’m addicted to the insanity that is Snookie, Jwoww & The Situation. I find myself saying “That’s the situation” every 5 minutes now. At the gym. On dates. After I go to the bathroom. It’s ridiculous.
Entourage
Wow. How the mighty have fallen. This show has nowhere left to go. When the show spends the entire last season focusing on Turtle crying over Meadow “I can’t parallel park” Soprano and E stalking his ex, it’s time to end the show. Time to watch Sons of Anarchy instead!
Hollywood
We were inundated with a flood of remakes, reboots, sequels & comic book movies in 2009. Nothing new and that is why Hollywood is killing itself. Paramount had to bailout Dreamworks. The “Terminator” film rights can be bought for $25 million by you. The Weinstein Company is on life support. Hollywood East lost it’s funding. MGM just closed shop and was sold off in pieces. What’s next? Hollywood, you have my number. Use it. I shall save you!
Comedy movies filmed in Boston
I’m all about movies being filmed in Boston! But the comedies filmed here have been nothing but horrible! Paul Blart?! The Proposal?! Ghosts of Girlfriends Past?! Bride Wars?! Now the rest of the country thinks Boston is unfunny. That bothers me. Because we are so funny. The way we talk. The way we look. We are funny!
Megan Fox
In my eyes you were perfect. So perfect I even blocked out your horrible acting abilities. Then I a saw a photo of your big toe thumbs. I was 8 years old again and looking at the gifts from Santa Claus with the price tags my mother left on them. I found out there was no Santa Claus. And now I know there is no such thing as perfection. I was so jaded.
The economy
You sucked in 2009. Everybody hates you. Get your shit together bro!
People who are against Facebook
I don’t like you people. You say stupid things like “Why would I go on Facebook?” And “I don’t need everybody knowing my business.” Then ask me questions like “What have you been up to?” “Where are you working?” “Who is this hot girl I’m hearing about?” In which I say, “If you were on Facebook, you would know all this already. Stupid.”
People who are “too” Facebook
You people are worse than those who refuse to go on Facebook. I don’t need to know about you going to take a shit right now. I don’t need to see your 80,000 photos. I don’t want to know about your miserable relationship and why it’s complicated. And I certainly don’t want to see your quotes from famous dead people. Come up with something original, useful & funny for your own damn status update! Keep the boring, the sadness, the stupid & your hatred to a Facebook minimum and spare us all.
People who do not give me credit
Whether I created it myself or I’m the first one to post it or send it to you and bring it to your attention then you better mention my name and give me credit every single time you make it your update, your tweet, your post, your text, your email or bring it up in conversation with somebody else you unoriginal, plagiarizing son of a bitch bastard!!!
Myself
My grievance with you T is…..well, none. You’re awesome. Keep up the good work kid. Everybody should be their own number one fan like you. You’ll never lack motivation. And you’ll always be loved. Awwww.
Happy Festivus!!!!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “2009 Facebook Status Collection” Post
I mentioned in my first blog post that I utilize social media sites multiple times daily. Especially with my iPhone. I’m always updating, posting & commenting on Facebook. Just letting the world know the dilio yo. Many of my friends say that my updates are funny. Insane. Informative. Offensive. But mostly that they entertain them throughout the day. Mission accomplished! So for this blog I put together a collection of some of my most crazy, most funny, most random and most entertaining Facebook status updates of 2009. They also turn into a pretty cool timeline of the past year’s events as well. Keep an eye out for updates mentioning the year’s major news stories about pop culture, sports, deaths, politics & social media from December backwards to January 2009.
Enjoy!
December:
Thanks to modern technology, I now know where Santa is. I’m going to wait in this alley, jack his ass, steal the sack, bring the sleigh to a chop shop in Chelsea, choke out an elf & peace out. Payback for the 1986 naughty list bitch.
Pouring some out for Brittany Murphy yo. RIP.
Snow?! Oh quick I better run out and buy all the bread, milk, canned goods, shovels & candles I can get my hands on!!! Because the stores will be closed forever and the 6 inches of snow will never disappear! Shut up. Drink, watch a flick, bang, go to sleep. Everything will still be there tomorrow. Some people are so stupid.
I hope more people from the Jersey Shore get punched in the face.
It’s colder outside than it is inside Tiger Woods’ Florida mansion right now. Yeah I said it!
Just saw Junior Seau at the gym. Was going to give him the “Dude what the hell?!” due to the Pats shitty performance. But then I saw the hot girl he was with. So I hi fived him instead.
Just saw a chick on Newbury wearing only jellybeans and a wasp nest with an orange traffic cone and sunglasses on her head. Then I realized Lady GaGa was in town. She looked good. I guess.
Somebody just sent me a pic of a cute little girl with the text “Love ya!” Ok. I don’t recognize the number or the kid. Shit what if it’s mine???
Can’t wait to see all those “Why can’t I find my Edward?” updates again now that another Twilight movie is out. Nothing more disturbing than grown ass women admitting to the world about how they want a fictional teenage sparkly vampire character to love and comfort them. All I say is, hey at least Megan Fox is a real person! You need therapy. I’ll see you there.
November:
If Facebook disappeared today I wonder if people would either call up or text everybody they knew every 2 minutes just to let them all know what they were doing at that very moment due to their addiction. There should be a support group for Update Addicts.
What? Am I supposed to congratulate the Yankees on their store bought championship??? I don’t think so. And I feel bad for any Yankees fans who agree with that team’s “stack the deck” mentality. All this world series win proves is that major league baseball needs to finally implement a salary cap. No more all star line ups in baseball. Go Boston!!!
Why the hell is facebook telling me to poke and write on people’s walls now??? Mind your business kid.
YouTube+Twitter+Facebook=You Twit Face!
October:
Today is my favorite day of the year…..Costume Walk of Shame Day! The streets of Boston are full of the colorful costumed walking shamed. It’s beautiful. I bet you can’t wait until next year!
Watching the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown I can’t help but think that Lucy always putting the football out there then pulling it away from poor Charlie Brown is a metaphor about how women have the power to put sex out there and take it away from us men! Charles Schulz must’ve had a hot but miserable wife.
There’s something about Friday. You’re happy. You think different. You act different. There’s the allure that anything can happen. You’re ready to drink, laugh, party your ass off! Show the world what’s up! Then you wake up. And it’s Saturday. And you promise yourself you’re never doing that again. Until Monday. When the Friday countdown starts again. It’s an endless cycle of debauchery really. But that’s Friday. And that’s why we love it.
Everybody wants a dislike button. Not me man. I want an FU button. So I can see a post or picture and be like FU! What do you think of that?!
September:
Inspired by Kanye’s meltdown, every time I see some dude hit on a woman when I’m out this weekend, I’m going to jump in and say “I’m really happy for you and Imma let you finish. But I got the greatest pickup line of all time!!!”
Oh wowwww!!!! It’s 9/9/09!!! And this means absolutely nothing to anybody really. Shut up.
Finally replaced the leather jacket lost in the Great Albanian Mafia Wars of Poughkeepsie 07!!!
I think I’ve blocked every stupid mafia, vampire, drinks, hearts, soulmate, quiz, zoo, bejeweled, astrological, secret, games, polls Facebook application on here. Take them and shove them up your ass! I’m just kidding. But not really. But seriously, you can stop now.
August:
Do people really eat pasta from Pizza Hut??? Really?! I refuse to eat pizza from that place let alone pasta! Real Italians eat at the Olive Garden! That’s where we take all our cousins named Vincenzo visiting from Italy! Just like the commercial says! Everybody knows this! Side note: Stereotypes are awesome!
Barely alive. Good bday.
To go out or not to go out? I’m conflicted like a virgin on prom night!
I’m going to put out a book with a collection of peoples’ Facebook status updates. “Facebook Status: The Normal, The Strange, The Drama, The Drunk, The Horny and The Attention Wanters & Getters.” And man I tell ya it’ll be a best seller!
The question isn’t “what are we going to do,” the question is “what aren’t we going to do?”-Ferris Bueller: Written by John Hughes, RIP
Just found out my nuts are 95 degrees but if they go below 28 degrees they’ll break off. Very interesting.
Not sticking middle fingers up in pictures since 2003!
What happened??? Ugh.
July:
I’m on a boat!
Uncle Jesse rules! Too bad the Olsen twins weren’t there! Would have convinced them to break me off a couple million to make one of my flicks. Then I would’ve taken the hot one home.
Really likes the crazy hot girl at the office that won’t get in the elevator if there are more than 3 people in it! I tell her it’s ok and she’s always like “I can’t….I just can’t”. So she just waits and waits in the morning and night! I laugh.
Just saw a lady open up and then pour the water out from a Poland Springs bottle into her SIGG bottle. I think the concept is over her head.
I ran some numbers and most women on facebook have 76.2% of themselves in the mirror pics; 82.3% with an ex/ex friend cropped out; 89.7% with their arm bent hand on hip; and a staggering 94.8% of how they used to look pics.
If MJ pops out of that casket and starts doing Thriller I’m gonna shit!
In memoriam of Michael Jackson’s funeral today, I am going to repeatedly moonwalk across everybody’s desk at work while grabbing my crotch and yelling “Heeheehee” & “Shamone” and ask everybody who’s bad? And nobody better try to stop me!
June:
Is tired today. And hey cheer up everybody, at least we still have Prince!
Rainwatch 2009: Day 1137…..the ark is almost finished. I got 2 of everything. Taking applications for a hot chick.
Doesn’t anybody still respect the Bro Code?! Some shit is unwritten but understood man!
Is working on pitching a sequel to Tarantino….Kill Bill 3: Bill’s Will. I wrote that. You steal it, I sue.
Short skirts and nice legs…greatest combo since peanut butter & jelly.
May:
Chilling with David Spade and some hotties on Newbury street.
I gave in and I’m pitching a reality show: “So You Think You’re Really Not a Douchebag or a Slampig? Really?” Watch the money come in!!!!
Is perplexed by the amount of people who think they’re rock stars. You work at Starbucks or in the mall; still live at home or with 8 roommates; driving your moms car; wearing a shirt your dads money got you. Rock star? Hardly.
Is listening to the little devil on his shoulder cause the little angel is an asshole.
Is putting the F U in FUN!!!!
Thinks Facebook needs to stop giving me suggestions on who I should be friends with and things I should be a fan of. I suggest they become a fan of minding their own business and a friend of shutting the hell up!
Rim graze….tuck rule…whatever…a win’s a win! That’s what we do! Win, bang supermodels and push little kids down to the ground! Boston! Go Sox for another Boston sweep!
April:
Can’t wait for my trip to Cabo! I’m only going just so I can get a “I Went to Mexico and All I Got was the Swine Flu” t-shirt! (Wrote that one too! You steal it I sue!)
It’s so great out this morning, I want to have sex with it.
Hasn’t seen a steal home like that since Benny The Jet Rodriguez in The Sandlot!!!!
What the hell am I doing in the office today??? What day is it??? I feel like I died.
Is ready to get his Patriots Day partying on! I apologize in advance for any chaos and drunk texting! Good luck to all the runners, may your race be poop free and clean!
Phewww…..I’m glad I stopped being a craigslist hooker!!!!
Ehh, she’s not my type. I like ‘em… I dunno, kinda dirty or something.
Is devastated. Megan Fox has Big Toes for Thumbs. I’m all messed up right now.
March:
Is laughing at the dudes that immediately post on a hot chicks updates on here! Same guys that form circles around them and stare at them in the clubs!!! Haha!
Is anybody else creeped out by the Quiznos commercial with the talking oven and the Quiznos worker who burnt himself having sex with it???
Loves the look on the lunch lady’s face when she has to break a twenty! I’ll teach her! heh heh
Remember kids…green beer=green poop. I’m just saying.
Happy St. Patty’s Day to all my Irish friends! I’ll be watching the Godfather, eating pasta and swearing excessively.
Happy Steak & BJ Day!!! I got the steak….the day is still young…
I love Australia!-The frantic kangaroo bounced into the bedroom of his 10-year-old son who screamed, “There’s a ‘roo in my room!”
Is writing more scripts than Octo Mom gots babies!!!!
February:
Thinks a lot of girls need to get off that pedestal. You’re not a princess honey. Besides, Prince Charming already banged your 3 step sisters. Realize this…
Is partying with Dan Akroyd.
Valentines-an annoying Hallmark fabricated holiday when you’re single, good lovin’ when you’re not. Win-win or lose-lose? Screw it, I’m just gonna party!
Laughs when coffee drinking, glasses wearing koala bears get punched in the face.
January:
Is on crazy drugs for his bronchitis. Oh man I’m so hiiiiiigh with Mr. Towlie!
Is wait….what?!
Thinks that if I have to pay almost 16 bucks for a 4 pack razor refill I should at least get a complimentary reach around from the cashier no?!
Can’t believe she used my own line on me.
Booyah!!! You like that?!
Worst President Ever says “I don’t know if you want to call those mistakes or not, but they were — things didn’t go according to plan, let’s put it that way”.-George W. Bush
Here’s to more entertaining updates in 2010! Happy New Year!!!!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Supplementary Persona” Post
There’s a movie coming out this Friday. “Youth in Revolt”. It’s about a wimpy teenage boy Nick Twisp who decides to create a bad boy supplementary persona named Francois Dillinger to win his dream girl. While this movie is bringing supplementary persona to the forefront, I have been a supporter of this movement for years. I have had many supplementary personas. Each was given their own name. Hell, it got to the point where I actually thought I might’ve been bipolar or at least suffered from multiple personality disorder. Whatever. All I’m saying is we all have at least one supplementary persona. The person you turn into each day to go to work when the real you hates your job, AKA “work you”. The person you turn into for first dates or your “dating representative”. The person you choose to be when you go out to either get yourself laid or drunk or both, the “party you”. Well this post is about my new 2010, mature, mysterious, interesting foreign ladies man supplementary persona that I am anxious to introduce to the world.
Enter Antonio Tomasino Manicotti.
As a mere baby, Antonio Tomasino Manicotti was abandoned by his parents in the hills of Sicily only to be found and raised by a pack of wild Sicilian donkeys. These animals are wild yet tender lovers. This is where Antonio Tomasino Manicotti learned to love. At the age of 10, Antonio Tomasino Manicotti was found by a Sicilian pizza maker out in the hills looking for mushrooms. He raised Antonio Tomasino Manicotti and taught him the ways of handling the pizza dough until manhood. Antonio Tomasino Manicotti, with his world renown finger rolling was anxious to try his technique on the American woman. So he came to Boston by himself. In a gondola. It took him 17 months. His goal? To become filthy rich by opening his “Famous Finger Rolled Pizza” pizza parlors across the land and to make a beautiful woman his wife.
Where can you find Antonio Tomasino Manicotti? He frequents places where he knows beautiful women are sick of the same American men. It betters his odds. Look for the Italian man who barely speaks broken English at best. He loves to say Italian words twice like “Grazie. Grazie.” “Bella. Bella.” “Mangia. Mangia.” He mostly wears extra tight jeans which can only fit a single $20 bill (because he prefers it when ladies buy the drinks), a lambskin condom, a picture of his donkey family and his super skinny cell phone that he answers “Ello? Ello?” His smile? As intoxicating as his horrible English. His confidence? Higher than the wild donkey hills of Sicily. His charm? Almost as overwhelming as his homemade cologne. This is Antonio Tomasino Manicotti. This is my new supplementary persona.
Now I’m not saying this supplementary persona will thrive. But it just may be a welcomed change compared to the spiked hair, sparkling tight shirt wearing, broke faking until they make it, steroid addicted, nothing interesting to say supplementary personas that a lot of guys love to create and unleash like a relentless army on hopeless women on any given Saturday night. If anything, Antonio Tomasino Manicotti is one of a kind. So if you’re out and you run into Antonio Tomasino Manicotti, order him a shot of chilled sambucca, pull up a seat and listen to a story from the most interesting man to ever be raised in another country by donkeys and a pizza maker only to come to America in a gondola looking for love. You’ll at least get a laugh. And if you’re a beautiful woman interested in getting to know Antonio Tomasino Manicotti, don’t worry, he will find you. “Salud! Salud!”
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Don’t be That Guy” Post
Ever go somewhere and come across the most annoying/drunk/pitiful/weirdest dude you’ve ever met? Better yet, have you ever gone somewhere only to find out the next day that you were the most annoying/drunk/pitiful/weirdest dude that those people have ever met?! Yep. We’ve all been there. Don’t deny it. We’ve either crossed paths with or have been at one time the person some of us label as “That Guy”. Nobody likes running into “That Guy”. And surely nobody ever wants to be “That Guy”. And the only way to avoid being “That Guy” is to warn others to “Don’t be That Guy”.
There are a lot of different types of “Don’t be That Guy” categories that you never want to fall under. These categories will also help guide you and let you know what to avoid when out in the wild. I’m here to help you thanks to my years of experience in life. Heed my words wisely. Here are some of my “Don’t be That Guy” categories. Some even have sub-categories or related categories. All of it is information that will help you improve yourself. Ladies, this will benefit you as well!
“Gym Douche” guy:
This is the guy who’s only goal in life is to make your workout as uncomfortable as possible. He walks around for hours talking on his phone getting in your way. He is most likely wearing a wife beater and an Ed Hardy bedazzled hat or an Affliction beanie. He looks at himself in the mirror all the time. Even when texting. Dude, who are you texting at the gym?! “Yo bro! Just maxed out at 275. Sickkkkk!” He walks around with a protein shake. Really dude?! You can’t have a shake after your workout like the rest of us? Or are you afraid that “Does Everything Naked Gym” guy will brush his junk up against your shaker in the bathroom. That I understand. And please stop using 7 things at once! It’s impossible to work your legs and shoulders at the same time when the squat rack is on the other side of the gym even if you left your towel there only to run back and say “I was on that”.
“Blame the Single Guy” guy:
This guy is either married or in a serious relationship. This guy has no balls. None. Because every time he goes out and either comes home late or drunk or smelling like a strip club, he blames his single guy friend. Man up dude. Your girlfriend already hates your single buddy as it is you dick! Your single guy buddy didn’t pour that fifth shot of patron down your throat. You did! He didn’t make you go drink a few after the game got out. You’re the one who didn’t want to go home to be with and I quote “My miserable wife”. And your single guy friend didn’t order you another lap dance. That was most likely “I Blow My Check at Strip Clubs” guy or maybe “I Pay for Sex” guy who did.
“Sports Stats” guy:
Whether you are at the game or watching it at home or at the bar, don’t be the guy who gives every single stat on every single player, game, team, coach, field, cheerleader, ref, mascot….whatever! Shut the hell up! I’m watching the game! (Also see “I Could’ve Made That Play” guy.)
“Drunk as Fuck” guy:
This guy is a mess. Plain and simple. Dude, do us all a favor and just eat and pound a lot of water before you go out. That’s it! What the hell is your problem?! Because of you we get into fights. Get kicked out of places. Scare off hot women. Eat shit food at 3AM and get fat. Have memory problems. Have to take one for the team with ugly, huge chicks. You’re a mess and you need help! We’re still going out Friday night though right?! Sweeet.
“I Ignore my Round” guy:
You are “Drunk as Fuck” guy’s evil step brother. You know damn well when it’s your turn to buy the next round! But yet you strategically disappear when it’s your turn but somehow reappear when somebody else is ordering. It doesn’t matter if you are dead broke or make $150K a year. It’s the principle. When you go out with your boys each of us takes a turn buying the next round. Claiming to have bought shots for yourself and 3 dirty sluts at the bar over there does not count as your round if your buddies didn’t get a shot stupid. And I don’t care if you drink Captain & Coke every single round and then get yourself a Coors Light when it’s your turn to buy. As long as you buy your round, we cool!
“Occasional Stalker” guy:
Man, you have to learn how to take a hint! She doesn’t like you! Finding her number on facebook does not count as getting her number. You following her on Twitter does not count as dating. You finding out where she is going from her status update or tweet and then showing up at that club does not count as talking to her! And stop hanging out with “Forms a Circle to Watch Hot Chicks Dance but Never Dances With Them” guy. We know you’re lonely. And that you mean well. But you’re killing us “Almost Normal, Just Have a Few Issues to Work Out Then I Can Commit” guys!!!
I hope this was informative. And I expect to see some improvements. Thank you.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Game Dates” Post
I’m a sports fanatic. Actually a Boston sports fanatic. Actually more like a Patriots, Red Sox, Celtics and Bruins fanatic. I could care less about the Revolution. What? It’s soccer. Or the Blazers. I don’t acknowledge lacrosse as a sport. It’s too easily confused with women’s field hockey if you ask me. Anyways. Being the fan that I am, I go to a lot of games. A LOT of games. 99% of them with my bro-in-law or with one of my sports buddies. But every now and then, I take a date. Whether it’s because one of my usual game partners in crime isn’t available or it’s because I’ve actually got past enough dates with a woman and deemed her “game date” worthy. And sometimes there is an entirely new unbelievably drop dead sexy woman who loves a certain “hot” player (Tom Brady/Jacoby Ellsbury/Milan Lucic are always mentioned) and she just wants to be seen at a game wearing her “cute pink jersey/t-shirt/hat” abomination and taking her will most likely help get me to the promise land. Every sports guy does it. We all play by the game date rules.
We rather go to a game with our buddies 9 out of 10 times because one, we want to enjoy the game without any stupid annoying questions. Two, we want to get drunk. And three, we are automatic targets for fights when going with women. All this is true. Seriously. I just gave you a peak behind the guy wizard curtain. Now some women do know sports talk but we don’t want to talk sports with you in public settings. It’s just weird. And some of you may like to get drunk at games but then we can’t get drunk. We can barely get ourselves out alive when drunk let alone the two of us. So when you get drunk, we have to stay sober. And that sucks! And while you’re drunk, hooting & hollering at Jacoby Ellsbury wearing your pink hat with your ponytail through it, we’re looking three rows back waiting to see when those four guys who have been staring at us the whole game and have been saying how they can’t believe a woman like you is with a guy like me are going to start a fight with me every time you get up showing off your ass in those tight low-cut jeans. Because when we’re not with you, we are those guys!
So ladies, don’t get mad at us when we don’t want to take you to games. We have our reasons. We have our rules. But if there is that rear or possible impending sex occasion that you do happen to be a game date to a regular game or something special like a Red Sox/Yankees game with first place on the line, remember, don’t wear anything pink. Or sexy. But don’t look ugly, find a happy medium. Have one beer and one beer only. Do not make eye contact with any other dudes. Please just look forward and barely move at all. Don’t bust out Brady’s college stats if other people besides us can hear you. Be ready to drive because we’re going to drink like a fish. And definitely, without exception, expect to take us down to the paradise city as soon as we get home. Because after all, we just went on a game date. And thems is the rules.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “I Believe in MIRACLES” Post
The world is a changin’. Things were a lot different about 10 years ago. But you either embrace change or get run the hell over by it. One of the biggest changes has been getting to know people. How technology has changed getting to know people really. You see, I’m old school when it comes to meeting people. Especially women. Even though I own a social media company, social media is not meant to replace good old-fashioned socializing. It’s meant to compliment it. Face to face socializing is going the way of the do-do bird between texting, iChatting, tweeting, etc. I don’t want to get to know you from your facebook. I want to get to know you from you! Let’s get to know each other in the real world a little bit. But it’s not like that. Facebook has changed the dating game. Completely. And while I love what it can do for business and staying in touch with old friends and family, I hate what it has done for dating.
Back in the day you went out. You meet a girl. You smile. She smiles. Introductions made. Conversation takes place. You ask her for her phone number. You make the call. It goes well. Dating ensues. Today? Shit. You don’t even have to go out! Odds are boy and girl already know about each other without even ever physically meeting each other because you see that you already have 50 facebook friends in common. So now you send a friend request based on that. Said request might get accepted. Once it does? You poke her. She comments on your wall with a “;) lol”. You let her know you like one of her sexy drunken pics. She comments “thanks”. Late night facebook chatting then occurs. Then finally, you meet at the same club or bar that you, her and those same 50 facebook friends happen to be at. At that point you both already know at least this much about each other from facebook: Friends; family; education; job; likes; dislikes; vacation places; music; movies; hobbies; where you grew up. So are you dating without dating??? Because this information exchange usually takes place over the first few months of dating. But that was then. This is now. Well you know what? I’m not down with that anymore! I’m bringing old school normal dating back! That’s right. I’m starting the “Meeting In Real life is Always Cooler and we’re dating so Lets Engage in Sex” movement! Or MIRACLES if you will.
Look. When I’m out and having a good time and an attractive woman catches my eye, I’m going to smile at her. And if she smiles back, I’m going right up to her and introducing myself. We’re going to have a drink. Maybe a few. We’ll do some chit chatting. We’re going to laugh. We’ll flirt. We’ll touch each other nonchalantly. Then I’m going to ask her for her phone number. Hopefully she’ll oblige. She better not say “Just hit me up on facebook”. I’m not going to hit you up on facebook. I asked for your number and I’m going to use it dammit! I plan on talking to you. We’re not going to get to know each other like a couple of robots exchanging information through computers! I want to talk to you obviously! If we have a nice conversation on the phone, we’re going out. On a real date. Then maybe another. And another. Drinks! Dinner! Pool! Bowling! Movies! Friggin’ mini-golf! All that corny, cheesy dating shit that people used to like to do! And from all that, we’re going to learn about our likes, dislikes, tastes in music, favorite tv shows, last time we went on vacation, family, job, hobbies…..get it?! Then we can become facebook friends. Because now we really are friends. Because we’re actually dating. Or maybe we’re friends with benefits. Either way now it’s ok to do all that facebook stuff. Hell, we can even poke. A lot. But not on facebook. In real life. Because after all, I believe in MIRACLES. And you should too!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Who Said That?” Post
Who do you quote? Seriously. Think about it. We do a lot of talking, texting, emailing, tweeting daily and sometimes we’re just not that original. Well I think I am. Because people steal my jokes, sayings, updates, tweets all the damn time! But it’s cool. I’ll take it as a compliment. Until I find you. And I will cut you. My friends steal that from me all the time. So again, who do you quote? I’m not talking about deep, profound life changing inspirational quotes. Hell I hate those. So annoying. So aren’t women who quote Sex and the City or Marilyn Monroe by the way. It’s weird. And you also tricked yourself into believing Prince Charming is going to find you and treat you like a princess because you are the greatest thing ever. Yeah. Keep telling yourself that. Enjoy life with all your cats. Nutjob.
On any given day I quote movies. Especially comedies, gangster movies and sports movies. What? I’m an Italian guy from Boston who writes movies. What did you expect? I believe there is a movie quote reply for every situation. Check it out!
At any football game:
You say “I haven’t seen a tackle like that since Joe Montana.” Your friend says “Joe Montana was a quarterback, you idiot.” You then say “I said Joe Mantegna.”-The Waterboy
While playing any card game when you’re losing:
You say “I’ll stay” while waving your hand over cards. “I too like to live dangerously.”-Austin Powers
Looking to hookup. Fast.:
You say “Tattoo on the lower back? Might as well be a bullseye.” Get a disgusted look? Say “What? I’m a cocksman.”-Wedding Crashers
When you’re the drunk one in the bunch:
You say “What you lookin’ at? You all a bunch of fuckin’ assholes. You know why? You don’t have the guts to be what you wanna be? You need people like me. You need people like me so you can point your fuckin’ fingers and say, “That’s the bad guy.” So say goodnight to the bad guy.”-Scarface
At the grocery store:
Go up to any person who works there and say “Arugula?” Don’t even let him answer! Just say “It’s a vege-ta-bull.” And when he later says “Have a nice day.” Be sure to reply “Fuck you.”-My Blue Heaven
On a first date with a woman:
First thing that comes out of your mouth when you see her “What do you think the chances are of a guy like you and a girl like me… ending up together?”-Dumb & Dumber
When she wants you to get your act together:
Look her straight in the eye and say “I guess what I’m trying to say is. If I can change. And you can change. EVERYBODY CAN CHANGE!!!!!” Preferably sounding like you had a stroke and hire someone who speaks Russian to translate for more of an effect. Then just for the hell of it, raise your hands in the air and shout “DRAGOOOO!!!!”-Rocky IV
So you see? There’s a movie quote for any situation. Just make sure you use the right quote for the right situation or else you’re going to shoot yourself in the foot. And if we learned anything from the movie Goodfellas it’s “All right so he got shot in the foot, what is it a big fuckin’ deal?” Yes Joe Pesci. It is.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Valentine’s Day sucks” Post
Valentine’s Day is this Sunday. There’s even a movie coming out with the same title. Who gives a shit I say. Valentine’s Day sucks. Always has. Always will. It doesn’t matter if you’re single or married. It’s a double-edged sword. You’re damned if you show a little extra effort making her and every woman she knows question why you’re not like that the other 364 days a year. And damned if you don’t make an extra effort because even though she says she doesn’t care about the “Hallmark holiday”, she really does and wants you to care too. SHE can be your wife; your girlfriend; your mistress; your friend with benefits; the girl at Starbucks you just started talking to a day ago; your out-of-state side piece ass; your booty call….whatever. You’re screwed regardless. Hopefully, it ends up being literally.
Chocolates. Roses. Cards. Champagne. Strawberries. Dinner. Sex. Lots o’red. This is what it comes down to. This is the theme. This is what it’s all about. We’re taught this at the age of 6 in the first grade when our mothers went out and bought those mini Valentine’s Day card lollipop things and told us to give them out to everybody in school. But we never did. You only gave them out to your closest friends and ate the rest. And this is also when the pretty girl got her first taste of a life time of ass kissing by getting the most card lollipops. She’s fat now. Saw her on facebook. And God forbid if you were the smelly kid because he never got any cards and cried the rest of the day. Poor bastard. He’s a millionaire now. But still smells. And in adulthood the only thing worse than those people out being all romantic and shit are those single “Anti-Valentine’s” nuts who dress all in black to show you just how much they hate the holiday. All you’re showing is that you’re batshit crazy and couldn’t get a date. And by doing this, you’re going to stay single. Good job.
I’m biased because a few years ago I made the mistake of having a first date on Valentine’s Day. Long story short. She called herself Princess. Seriously. And I was thinking exactly what you’re thinking. Hottie must be a stripper! High five! But she wasn’t. Oh no. Turns out she was a witch. Not mean, but an actual “I will put a spell on your ass” witch! She had a giant dragon choking a rooster tattoo on her back. She smoked a pound of weed a week. An old man ghost tried to choke her every night when she came home from work. Every night! Cats were afraid of her. That part I liked actually. She hated life and her only joy was playing show tunes with her guitar while sitting on her giant orange couch. Her most prized possession. The couch, not the guitar. She told me all of this in the first half hour of the date. Where she drank 4 Guiness. I was in shock. I’m not easily shocked. I got up, said “Happy Valentine’s Day. Honey get help. Soon.” Dropped a twenty down. And left. I left her and anything Valentine’s Day behind that night. Ruining it for any woman I’ve been with since during the holiday. I tell that story, they understand why. Valentine’s Day sucks.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “I don’t have kids” Post
I don’t have kids. Not that I know of! Ha! That joke never gets old. My mother still doesn’t like that joke. I’m at that age where everybody around me is making babies. They’re making babies. I’m making awesomeness! They’re trying to raise kids. I’m trying to raise my income. They’re making appointments with daycares, I’m making appointments with movie studios. They’re…..you get the point. Now this isn’t another married versus single life debate. No. This is about what YOUR kids mean to you, they usually don’t mean the same to everybody else. Especially me. Don’t get my wrong, I love my nieces and nephew! Because they’re smart, funny, cute and think I’m the coolest. But the bonus is, is that I can leave after playing with them for a few hours and go about my awesome life as usual while their parents can’t. Parents have the responsibility of everything that comes with having children. Nobody else does. Not us single folk. Nor do other children’s parents. And parents are nuts when it comes to their own kids.
Case in point. Ugly babies. Parents are blind to their baby’s ugliness. Everybody else knows baby Joey is funny looking. I have no desire to hold a little ugly mongoloid that is going to piss, shit and puke on me. I’m all set. Call me in a couple of years when the kid grows into his oddly shaped head, bug eyes, can put a sentence together and toss a football around with me. Kids are pretty much useless the first 3 years. And stop sending me baby pics! I don’t send you the nude pics that some young hottie sent me! Have some consideration. The baby looks like a hairy blob. And for every kid Christmas card photo you send me, I’m sending you back a “Look what I did while drunk in Vegas” photo! And why the hell do I get invited to kid birthday parties?! I’m more than happy to give a gift but what am I supposed to do there? I can’t play pin the tail on the donkey. It’s at my knees. What, hit the piñata? One whack the game’s over. Kiddies crying everywhere. Cake? Ice cream? No thanks. Single people can still take care of themselves and go to the gym whenever we want. Just give me that milf’s name over there and keep an eye out for daddy and I’m good.
Parents also think that their own kids are the most talented, athletic and brightest kids ever made. You’re shitting me right??? A cousin of mine once told me that her 2 year-old son is so bright that he’s going to be a surgeon. I just saw this kid trying to repeatedly jam the wooden square into the star hole 5 minutes earlier. I thought surgeons had to have great hands and be precise. He’s no surgeon! Your daughter isn’t the best dancer up there either chief. She sat there the whole time while all the other kids danced only to quickly get up at the end and stage dive head first into people who she thought were her parents! Ever go to a kid’s baseball game? 3 hours of kids trying to hit a ball that never gets past the pitcher. And they don’t call strikes or keep score! That’s a display of great athleticism? I think not. Look, I’m sure I’ll be one of those blind, unconditionally loves my ugly talent-less children parent types one day. But in the meantime, have some consideration my parental friends and remember, I don’t have kids.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Logic vs Feelings” Post
So my last post offended some people. This made me finally want to write my men think logically, women think with feelings post. Case in point. The women who took issue with my “I don’t have kids” post took it personally and yelled at me. Fine. I’m a big boy. I can take it. The men who had issues with it reached out to me and asked questions about certain parts in the post. I gave explanation. Matter resolved. Because us men think. Like to figure things out. Come up with a logical answer. Keep it simple. Get right to it. Then move the fuck on. Women want to yell. Complain. Crave attention. Think more into every single friggin’ thing than is necessary! Instead of taking the time to figure shit out, they want to go nuts and think the world is trying to destroy them. Everybody is the enemy. Take the time to take a step back and think it out before speaking you say? No way. Try to talk something out without yelling or crying? No way. Drag shit out? YES! You want examples. Well, I’ll give them to you baby.
1. Going Out
Man-shaves, showers, brushes teeth, gets dressed. Done. Woman-I’m not feeling my hair like this. This dress makes me look fat. I can’t wear these shoes because Susan has them and she might be wearing them somewhere right now someplace and they look better on her than me. You think Susan’s hotter anyways, don’t you? My makeup sucks. I’m ugly. How many beers have you drank so far? We’re going to be late again. I’m just going to tell everybody you got lost again.
2. Ordering Food
Man-I’ll have the steak. Medium rare. Baked potato. Amstel. Done in under 20 seconds. Woman-Hmmm. Hmmm. What are the specials again? I wasn’t listening. hehehe. Now can they make the mushrooms not caramelized? I’m off of sugar right now. How is the salmon prepared? Where is it from? Oh not that ocean? How much fat is in that? Is that really a vegetable? What kind of cheese comes on it though? I love the chicken marsala here. But I get it every time. What is a quail really? A little peacock? Mmmm. That molten chocolate lava cake looks delicious over there. Ohhh. I still have to order don’t I??? hehehe.
3. Working Out
Man-Shit. It’s late. I’m beat. I’ll just go tomorrow. Woman-Oh my God if I miss my kickboxing class tonight I will kill you!!!! I have to go! I ate a whole jar of peanut butter today because I am so stressed from work! That bitch Mary at the office is trying to get me fired! She hates me! You hate me! My left arm jiggles when I touch it! Look! You did this to me! I need to run at least 37 miles tomorrow morning too. That means I have to go to bed early and miss Grey’s! You better DVR it this time! I missed it last week because of yoouuu!!! You know I don’t know how to work the DVR! Are you laughing at me?!
4. Wanting to Meet Friends/Family
Man-Meet your friends? Your family? Whatever. Woman-I want to meet your mother. You think she’ll like me?! She won’t like me. Does she even know about me? What I do for work? What I look like? How come you never talk about your father? Do you even have parents??? What about your friends? I hope they’re better than your buddy Steve! He’s a man whore! Are you a man whore?! You are aren’t you??? I fucking knew it! My friends were right about you!
5. Sex
Man-Let’s do it. Woman-Is this just sex or are we making love? It would mean more to me if you said you loved me. But not now. Or during. But after. And you have to mean it. Do you say it to every woman? Why don’t you stay and cuddle?! I need to cuddle! It shows that you care. I need comfort. This is unacceptable. No more sex until you like cuddling as much as I do. And don’t kick the cat off the bed next time either. Would you kick our children in the head off the bed like that? You show that you like Mr. Kitty Jenkins and that means you would be a good father. Are you fake sleeping right now??? Where are you going?! Don’t leave me! I will find you!!!
These were just some examples. Now I know not all women think or act with their feelings. And I know not all men are logical. But 99% of the men and women I know are just like this. And these are also some of my experiences. So I guess I’m stereotyping. Oh well. This is my blog and I can do what I want! I mean….are you trying to destroy me?! Don’t you all love me?! You hate me??? Well I hate you too! Where’s the ice cream….I’m fat.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Dog Life” Post
I wish I had my own dog. I love dogs. They’re fun, loyal and you can do things with them. Like playing. Running. Mixed martial arts. Picking up women. Truly a man’s best friend. However, my lifestyle doesn’t allow me to have my own dog. I’m always running around, working, going out and it wouldn’t be fair to the doggie. So, I’ve become accustomed to being a “Doggie Brother”. Kind of like a Big Brother to kids but with dogs. It’s always been like this for me. My grandparents had a crazy dog when I was a kid. Pudgie. Pudgie used to go nuts when the phone rang. And he would bite everybody and make them bleed. Especially my grandfather. And yet they kept him. But for some reason Pudgie was cool with me and would let me take him for walks without biting me. Maybe because we were both evil. That’s what my grandfather said. My sister has always been a dog owner too. She had a rottweiler the size of a full-grown black bear. Tyler. He was huge, but a giant teddy bear. I used to dog sit him. After Tyler went to doggie heaven she got a chocolate lab. Bruno. Bruno is special. He picks up dog poop pieces and brings them to you. And he won’t walk on hardwood floors. He also has separation anxiety attacks. And he needs to sleep with the TV on so he can hear voices. I got him a helmet and placed numerous calls to the Dog Whisperer. Watching Bruno is a job and a half. Now that I live in the city I watch a friend’s dog a lot. Ringo.
Ringo is perfect for city living. He’s compact. Easy to move. And pretty self-sufficient. He eats, plays, sleeps and knows to shit & piss when you take him for a walk. Like me. He also loves to run with me. And I got him doing Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. He’s about a brown belt at this point. He’s also a curious little fellow. I call him Benjamin Button. Because he watches everything I do. Which is creepy at times. There was one time I had a pretty lady stay over and Ringo howled until we let him stay in the bedroom with us. His staring was very unsettling. For her. I could go no matter what. His mother hit me hard because of this story when a mutual friend let it slip. Ringo also likes to lay down low when he sees a dog coming then jump into play mode while we’re out walking. Some dogs think he’s attacking. And this leads to fights. Not the dogs, but usually me and some dickhead dog owner. It’s like Mr. Miyagi the teacher showing Daniel his student that he can fight. I can’t let Ringo see I’m just all talk and can only catch flies with chopsticks and shit.
His curiosity also has it’s pros. When he’s prancing around all cute in the Boston Commons chasing squirrels or acting all afraid around duckling statues, women eat this shit up! They ask what kind of dog he is. To which I always reply, “He’s a stallion.” Giggles. They always giggle. For the record, he’s a Shiba Inu. Which means he is pretty much a miniature husky wolf like dog. We met a nice hottie the other day walking her puggle who was obsessed with Ringo. The woman, not her dog. The puggle smelled Ringo’s ass and was all set. She was a real bitch. The hottie however wants to do a doggie play date. I have no idea what the hell people do on doggie play dates. But I’m going to show up. Ringo of course will be back home with his mom by then. I didn’t tell the woman he wasn’t my dog. Are you crazy? I figure I’ll just show up holding his leash crying about how Ringo ran away like Eddie Murphy did in Boomerang. This should work.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “I respect the Bro Code and you should too” Post
The Bro Code. Guy Code. Dude Rules. Man Law. Call them what you want, but every guy should be living by them. The Bro Code are a set of rules that govern every man. And they should be learned, followed and respected. No excuses. But there are some guys who don’t follow them. And I’m here to let you know that you should be following them. They will make you a better man. There are a lot of rules within the Bro Code, but I’ll just list the core basics that should be followed. I will also include their respective exception clause.
Thou Bros Always Before Thou Hos
This is for every guy. EVERY guy. Single, in a relationship and married. We have each other’s backs. That’s it. We do shit for each other a woman can’t. We know shit about each other women can’t never know. There will always be other hos! Exception Clause: If it involves you getting laid with no less than 2-3 models or sex with a woman who is ridiculously rich and will give you money. That’s it.
Thou Shall Never Bang Your Boy’s Sister, Mother or Ex
No matter how hot these women are, if you bang any of them you will get a severe beating and never be friends again. Exception Clause: She looks like Megan Fox. Bang her. Find another friend with an ugly sister, mother or ex.
Thou Must be a Wingman
This rule goes without any explanation. No excuses. You must do it. Exception Clause: You died.
Thou Shall Take One for the Team
If your buddy is talking to a chick and she has friends, hot or not, you must talk to them. Doesn’t matter if they are annoying, fat or busted. Just keep drinking. Keep talking. And keep them busy. You don’t have to have sex with them. Play cards. Or juggle. Or something. Exception Clause: You meet a hotter chick while taking one for the team who is willing to go home with you. Bail. Your buddy is on his own.
Thou Must Help Their Buddy Move
Moving sucks. But it sucks less when your buddy is helping you. I don’t care if it’s furniture or a dead body. You better help your buddy move it. You don’t have to volunteer but if you are asked you have to do it. Your pay is a six-pack of Corona. Exception Clause: You are moving the same day or you are also trying to hide a dead body as well.
Thou Shall Never Talk About a Buddy’s Sexual History to a Woman
Just keep your fucking mouth shut on this one! Do not blow up your buddy’s spot with this! What a man reveals to a woman about his own sexual history is his business. If you tell her he’s banged 300 women, she’ll think he’s a man whore. If you say he’s only slept with 3 women, she’ll think he has something wrong with him. This is the number one unintentional cockblocker amongst buddies. Do not commit this crime. Exception Clause: She is deaf. Tell her whatever the fuck you want.
Thou Will Take His Bro’s Secret to the Grave
This is what separates us from women. Women love to tell friends their other friends secrets and shit. Men don’t! If your friend tells you he robbed a bank. You say nothing. If your married friend tells you he got some road ass on a business trip. You say nothing. If your friend tells you he burned down a church the other night while he was drunk. You say nothing. Not to your other friends. Not to your wife. Not to the cops. Not to your priest. You die with this damn secret! Exception Clause: You need a favor from your friend and he’s acting like a little bitch and he refuses to do it so you can now blackmail him with said secret. Watch how fast he mans up and does the favor.
If each man follows these rules, the world will be a better place. So please, guys, man up and just respect the Bro Code.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Superstar? No. You’re really not.” Post
Why do so many people have the desire to be a superstar these days? To be famous? Why are so many people obsessed with celebrities? Why the hell does everybody want to get famous quick through a YouTube video? Or an MTV reality show even if it paints you as an asshole? And why are we allowing so many untalented assholes to become famous and continue to support their careers by buying their horrible music, watching their ridiculous TV shows, going to see their boring movies, following their pointless tweets? We are totally inundated with this new obsession. We are becoming a sub-par generation of instant fame. And this instant fame obsession is influencing everyday people. Making everybody think they are a superstar. A rockstar. Important. Talented. Not me though. Hell no. I just want to put out my material and entertain. Could care less about the fame. I want the joy of knowing people who use and really enjoy my work. And just let me make the money to take care of those I care about from it. “All I want is money. Fuck the fame I’m a simple man.”-Tupac
A lot of people think they are famous without the fame. Without the money. Without doing anything. Without putting in the hard work. Without any accomplishments. On any given day I’ll get the following texts or see these facebook updates: “Partying like a rockstar!” “Poppin’ bottles with models!” “I’m such a balla’!” “Out makin’ it rain!” “We gonna run this town tonite!” Okay. Here comes the big T reality check for you. Are you ready?! This may hurt a bit. You’re not a balla’ if your debt doubles your income. You’re not making it rain if that was your entire paycheck you just dropped. You’re not a model if you did one glamour shots photo shoot 5 years ago and never ever booked a paying gig after that. You’re not big time if you’re still in school at any age. Financially impossible. Someday maybe. All the important people in history never lived at home over the age of 24. You’re not a rockstar if you’re at the club at night then at your job at the mall selling shoes the next day which you drive to using your Dad’s BMW. If you’re over 30 and still have roommates, you’re not big time either. Posting pics of yourself with Ben Affleck when you ran into him at a bar while he was in town shooting a movie doesn’t make you a celebrity like him or his friend. Balla’s also don’t sleep on futons. If anybody pays your credit cards/rent/mortgage besides you, like your parents, rich uncle, your boss who you give handjobs to, your dead grandma or a sugardaddy, you’re not the shit. You’re just a lucky dope and it will run out. And finally, if you don’t command at least a 6 figure salary, have any equity, have decent credit, have zero investments and pray that your tax return is enough to blow on a 4 day vacation, then you are not a superstar!
Here’s what I say. Act accordingly. Know your role. Play the part. Talk shit? Back it up. Walk with a swag because you have some swag. As a matter of fact, stop saying swag altogether. That word is stupid. Be you. Do you. Make the most of what you have and bust your ass to attain more. Don’t fake it until you make it. Instant fame and pretending to be something you’re not is easy, yes. But why do it? Don’t become like the people who are like this. They only love the attention because that’s all they have. Do something first that will earn you that attention if you really want it. I’ll leave you with this. There’s a thousand Snookis, a thousand fake it ‘til they make it bedazzled t-shirt with a tie wearing poser dudes, a thousand star fuckers, a thousand wannabe models/actresses and a thousand YouTube tweeting follow me I’m important & I really need more facebook friends cause I got muscles or my tits are out and I should really have my own tv show “superstars” for every one of you. So who’s really the superstar now?
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “I hate bands” Post
Now before all of you band loving people and people in actual bands get on my case about the title of this post, let me explain myself. I like bands. Even though I’m a big hip hop fan, I like bands. Real bands. Professional bands. However, it’s been my experience during my time, especially in college, that the bands I’ve seen live have really sucked. These are not pro bands. These are “We cannot give up the dream so we do countless covers of more talented bands that we envy and the music we play you cannot dance with a chick to and we will cause your ears to bleed while butchering classics and attempting to play our horrible original music with shitty equipment because we’re broke bands” I hate.
You know what I’m talking about! You go to a bar or a club and there’s this shitty band playing loudly in the corner while you’re trying to have a conversation. All of a sudden you start hearing Chumbawamba’s horrible “I Get Knocked Down” sounding even worse than the original! Really?! Why the fuck are you trying to ruin my night shitty band?! All I want to do is go out. Have some drinks. Laugh with my friends. Dance with a few girls. You are ruining all of this. Where’s the dj tonight? Give me a nice beat. Something I can groove to. Some Jay-Z or R. Kelly so I can get my dance on! You can’t dance to band music. Come on don’t lie! You know you can’t. You kind of just stand there, watching, doing a little body shake with the occasional “Whoo!” “This rocks!” “Awesome.” And some pointing. Pointing at the band. Pointing at your friends. All the while you know you regret coming. You hate your friend for convincing you to come and finally realize how bad his or her taste in bands is while you pretend to be having a good time so not to hurt their feelings. It’s stupid really. Me? I’m usually like “This band sucks. Fuck this. I’m out.” And I leave.
I have a lot of friends who pay big bucks and travel all over just to hear shitty bands. Not me. I’ll pay for Guns & Roses. Metallica. Linkin Park. Kings of Leon. Or any band that the radio or MTV tells me are good. That’s right I said it. Let me know when your band gets on the radio. Sells a few million records. Goes mainstream. Because then I know the band doesn’t suck anymore. They’re no longer playing to drunken 21 year olds. They no longer make that loud eardrum popping sound that the mic makes when it gets too close to the damn speakers. Maybe once you get to that level, I will stop hating you. Well maybe not. Dave Matthews Band has been at the level for years and I still hate them. Come on! He sounds like Kermit the Frog whining!!! Damn…I hate bands.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “I Don’t Say Tomato or Tomahto” Post
My all time favorite commercial is the A&W Root beer “Mr. Dumass” commercial where the guy on the interview keeps calling the interviewer Mr. dumb ass instead of Mr. “Doo-mahs”. I’ve met a lot of actors in my time but none more awesome than meeting the dude from the commercial a couple of years ago through a mutual friend. I was so hammered when I met him that instead of telling him how I was such a fan, I ended up telling him the story of how I hooked up with a slampig at work hours earlier and asked him to smell my finger. Classy aren’t I? Anyways this post isn’t about who’s classy when they’re drunk. No, it’s about how people say things. And what they prefer to call things. Some people have horrible Boston accents. Ahem! And some people just don’t care and call things whatever the hell they want. Ahem! Guilty again. Here are some such examples.
Cold Cuts vs Deli Meat
You walk up to the guy in the deli and tell him to give you cold cuts. They are cuts of cold meat and cheese. You put them in a sandwich. Deli meat just sounds so stupid.
Tonic vs Soda
Growing up in East Boston every parent told their kids soda was tonic. Not Pepsi. Tonic. Not Coke. Tonic. Every bubbly, carbonated, sweet beverage in a bottle in the damn fridge was tonic!!! Then I went to college and found out how stupid that was. It’s soda. Stop calling it tonic people!
Gravy vs Sauce
This is the biggest versus battle known to man. It goes beyond Boston. Beyond Italians. It’s universal! People have died over this debate. I’ll end it right now. You ready? Gravy goes on pasta. Sauce goes on pizza. If you ask me what goes on turkey, I’ll say brown gravy. Then punch you in the face for being an asshole. It’s gravy. Battle over. Live with it.
Ginza vs Jinza
There’s a Japanese restaurant in Boston that is open late night where you can get sushi drunk after the club. I call it Ginza. My friends call it Jinza. A friend of mine went to Japan and said it’s pronounced Jinza there. Well woop-dee-fucking-doo! I’ve never been to Japan! And I’m not Japanese. That shit is Ginza! Case closed.
Gyro vs Yeero
I’m not Greek either. I have a lot of Greek friends. They can say yeero. But I read it and say gyro. If I was Greek I’d say yeero. I’m not. So don’t correct me my multi-syllable last-named friend.
Shia Labeouf vs Shia Leboof
He’s a douche either way. It just sounds funnier calling the kid Shia Leboof.
Sub vs Hero
A long piece of bread sliced down it’s side and stuffed with meat is called a sub. Because it looks like a damn submarine. Spider-Man is a damn hero. Know the difference.
Appetizers vs Apps
Don’t ever call appetizers apps. Apps are on your iPhone. Appetizers are snacks before the meal. Ok?
What’s Up vs What Up
What’s up is a question. It is asked when you want to know what is up with somebody. What up is like saying hi. Two very different things.
DVR vs TiVo
It’s the same thing. Don’t say TiVO. That’s like saying “I drive a Kia” instead of “I drive a car”. You wouldn’t say that because you are embarrassed you drive a Kia. So just say “I didn’t DVR it” instead of “I didn’t TiVO it” you damn brand name dropper.
Target vs Tarjay
This place is called Target. If you call it Tarjay, you should get kicked in your neck. You’re shopping at Target because your ass is middle class to lower trailer park trash class. Nothing wrong with that. Just don’t say it like the place or yourself should be on Newbury Street or Rodeo Drive stupid. Because it’s not. It’s at a damn strip mall.
Sahkee vs Sahkay
I could go either way on this one. If I order it sober, it’s Sahkee. If I order it after a few Sakes, it’s Sahkayyyy. Because I’m drunk and trying to be annoying. Now whether you think it should be warm or cold. I have no idea. Remember, I’ve never been to Japan.
So there you have it. Before you try to correct somebody, make sure you are right first. And definitely make sure the person isn’t me. Because I say whatever I want. No matter how much it makes me look like an ignorant dumb ass. Because I know it’s Doo-mahs.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Legendary Childhood Moments” Post
My early childhood years as an evil little bastard are legendary. Many years later, family members are still talking about the things I did as a little kid. I was so bad that my grandfather would grab me by my head and look for “666” like Damien in the Omen. Satan’s son. My great-aunt performed the Italian malocchio on me at least a dozen times. Old Italian women who came over from Italy on the boat can tell what is going on in somebody’s life by dropping olive oil into a bowl. It’s true! I came up with the “evil eye” every time. My mother brought me to a priest. They told her to go to the Vatican and consult an exorcist. If you’re not familiar with what I’ve done, I’m going to share some of those legendary moments. And for all you parents out there, be thankful that your kids are not like this. My mother says that she hopes I have a kid like me one day. Hence another reason why I don’t have kids. Here we go!
Taught how to swear (Age 2)
My aunt/godmother was my biggest fan. She let me do whatever the hell I wanted. And she spoiled me rotten. At the age of 2 when I was learning how to speak she would whisper in my ear “Say shit”. I’d say “shit”. We’d laugh. She whispered “Say bitch”. I’d say “bitch”. Finally she whispered “Say fuck”. I’d say “FUCK!!!” It quickly escalated into “FUCK you!” “FUCK this!” “Where’s my FUCKING toy?!” My mother would take me to lunch and ask me what I wanted. “A FUCKING hot dog without the FUCKING skin Ma!” My aunt laughed every time. My mother? Not so much. There’s a famous pic of me with a cigarette in my mouth my aunt put there. I’m smiling. Giving the finger. Laughing. I was 3. Evil was born. I miss my Aunt. She made me funny.
Gene Gene the Dancing Machine (Age 4)
There was a show in the late 70s early 80s called the Gong Show. Contestants would come on doing stupid tricks and if one of the judges hit the gong, that meant they sucked. When the show would hit a slow moment a song would come on. Da dunt dunt dunt dunt! Da dunt dunt dunt dunt! And an old black man wearing a hat would come out and do a horrible James Brownish type dance. Gene Gene the Dancing Machine!!! He pissed the crowd off and they hated him and it was the coolest thing I had ever seen! I quickly learned how to dance like him. At any family get together if there was a slow moment or a fight amongst the adults, my mother, my aunt, my sister or my grandmother would immediately start….Da dunt dunt dunt dunt! That was my cue. I would come running in from wherever I was and do the dance! They would throw napkins and cigarette butts at me. Sometimes lit. Acting like the hating audience. It made no sense. But it was awesome. And they loved it.
Basket on my head at all times (Ages 4-6)
I was a big Boston Bruins fan as a kid. Terry O’Reilly was my hero. I was also poor as shit as a kid and would play hockey in the house using foil for hockey pucks. My mother got me a blue plastic hockey stick and I would shoot foil pucks at everybody thinking I was Terry O’Reilly. Easter came at age 4. And there it was Easter morning on my kitchen table. The Easter Bunny left me a big blue Easter basket. I ran to it, dumped all the shit out of it and shoved the basket over my head. I finally had my hockey helmet. I was now officially Terry O’Reilly. And I would never take the basket off my head. Every picture of me from the ages 4 through 6 are of me wearing the basket. I was skating down center ice AKA my grandparents’ bedroom and hooked my grandmother with my hockey stick. She went down. Hard. I dropped the stick and basket and spent 5 hours in the penalty box AKA the bathroom hiding from my father and grandfather. That was the end of my hockey career.
Flipping off cops through the sunroof (Age 7)
My aunt had a car with a sunroof to which I would love climbing out through as she drove around. My mother would yell to get down. My aunt would say “Oh he’s alright”. My mother would say “He’s going to do something fresh. Watch.” Neither one cared if I fell out and died or got decapitated though. As we pulled up to a red light, a cop in his cop car was next to us. He saw me. Rolled down his window. My mother and aunt watched. He said “Hey. That’s not safe. You can’t be up there like that. Sit down in the car.” In slow motion my mother and aunt tried to pull me down before I could do something. They were too late. They could only watch as I flipped both my middle fingers. While saying “Fuck you!!!” The cop pulled my aunt over. Gave her a ticket.
Piss in toy box (Age 7)
At the age of 7 I was fresh all the time. No reason needed. One time in the middle of the night, instead of going to the bathroom I decided to get up and piss in my toy box. My mother saw me get up and do it. She yelled at me. I had no idea why I did it. I actually spited myself. Because my toys were now soaked in piss. I think I was evil and a little mentally challenged.
First wooden spoon attack (Age 7)
Italian mothers used to hit their kids with the giant wooden spoons they used to stir the gravy. It’s a well-known fact. My first wooden spoon beating came at the age of 7. They came quite often. They were well deserved though. It’s also a known fact that little Italian boys build up a tolerance for wooden spoon pain. By the age of 10 the wooden spoon was no longer effective. We found this out as my mother smacked me with the spoon on my ass and I wasn’t struggling anymore. No more pain. She broke the end of the spoon off over my ass. I would later walk into the kitchen as she had to stir the gravy with just the spoon stick handle. We both laughed.
Ruined Christmas (Age eight)
I have to admit that I have ruined a few holidays in my time. Even as an adult. Oh well it happens. The first holiday I ruined was Christmas when I was 8. My mother had just put up the tree. She put the lights up. Put presents under it. And she then told my sister and I to put the ornaments we had made at school on it. She left us alone. I found a nice spot to put my clothes pin Rudolph on. I turned around to pick up Rudolph and when I turned back to the tree my sister had put her Charlie Brown ornament in my spot. She didn’t know what she did. But I attacked her anyways. We rolled around on the floor breaking everything. She screamed “Ma!” My mother came in as we wrestled on the ground with the tree fallen over on top of us. Smashed lights. Smashed bulbs. Smashed gifts. She grabbed me off my sister and yelled “Now you ruined Christmas!” I sure did.
First crank calls (Age eight)
There was a local number in Massachusetts that you could call and talk to Santa during Christmas time and the Easter Bunny during Easter time in the 80s. It was probably the same kiddie diddler who got off talking to little kids but it was free and this is where I learned how to make my first crank calls. I called up that Santa/Bunny guy at least 30 times a day. He knew me on a first name basis. I updated him on what I was doing at the time. Asked him all types of random questions. I would also threaten his life just for fun. Telling him “I’m going to make you bleed.” Then hang up. I don’t know why. It got to the point where he said that he was going to call the cops and hoped that the real Santa put reindeer shit in my stocking. Only I could piss off Santa Claus this much.
Terminator dick (Age 9)
Little boys are obsessed with genitalia at this age. You’ve seen SuperBad right? So my buddies and I would draw little stick people with large body parts. A stick girl with huge boobs and a giant vajeen. A stick boy with a huge penis. We’d draw them on pieces of paper and stick them in our trapper keepers. For some reason one day my mother went into my trapper keeper and found one of the little stick boys with a giant penis drawings. I was outside playing and she called me in from the window. I came in the house and she was standing there holding the drawing. “What is this?” Too which I nonchalantly replied “Terminator dick.” Like it was obvious. She didn’t know what to say. Or do. She just said “Oh. Ok. Go back outside.” I went back outside. That’s where I first realized I’m pretty quick on my feet with my one liners.
Andrew Dice Clay (Age 10)
I was first introduced to Andrew Dice Clay when he appeared on Rodney Dangerfield’s HBO special. We had a black box that gave us free cable. Free porn. It was awesome. When Dice came out onto that stage wearing a leather jacket, cigarette in hand, twitching and grabbing his balls I was in awe. Then he started “Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet eating her curds and whey. Along came a spider, sat down beside her and said ‘What’s in the bowl bitch?!’” I had found a new hero. I memorized every nursery rhyme. I perfected the cigarette over the head move. I had his dialect down. My mother ate it up. She bought me every album he would put out. We would go to cousins’ houses and she would tell me to do Dice. All the little kids would be playing and I would start. “Jack and Jill went up the hill with a buck and a quarter apiece. Jill came down with two fifty. That fucking whore! Ohhhh!!!!” It was awesome.
So that was the first 10 years of my legendary childhood. Pure evil. But a lot of fun. Those years really shaped me. My attitude, my passion, my sense of humor. Sure I was a little prick. But I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Some of my family may disagree however.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Epic Game Moments” Post
I’ve mentioned before that I am a huge Boston sports fan right?! Oh yeah. Been a fan my entire life. Back when all our teams sucked. And I mean they sucked. A young T actually cried himself to sleep when that ball went through Buckner’s legs. Last time I ever cried too. Then our teams became awesome! Like I did. But now we are starting to become normal again. Unlike me! Sports are cyclical. We had a lot of great games. From crap to a decade of dominance from 2001-2009. 3 Super Bowls, 2 World Series, 1 NBA title and a shit load of broken records. And I’ve been to a lot of games to see both the shitty side and the awesome side of my Boston teams. Some of these games have great stories. Better than the actual games. So sit back while I whip out some of my “Epic Game Moments”!
Red Sox vs Brewers 1985-1st Red Sox game
This was my first Sox game. My mother managed to save up $16 and bought us 2 bleacher seats. That’s right. Sox tickets were actually $8 face value at one time. Unbelievable! We sat close to my favorite Sox player in right field, Dwight Evans. The first time seeing, smelling, hearing and feeling that energy on a Summer night in Fenway can’t be put into words! What makes this game epic is not just the game itself but the fact that my mother left at the top of the 2nd inning to go get us pretzels. She asked the couple behind us, who were complete strangers by the way, to watch me. She didn’t come back until the bottom of the 7th inning. She got lost in Fenway Park! She threw my cold pretzel at me and said “Never again. This place is crazy.” I asked her “What if I got kidnapped while you were gone all this time?” To which she replied “Who the fuck’s gonna kidnap you?!” And you know what? She was right. I never got kidnapped. Ever. And she hasn’t been back to Fenway since.
Red Sox vs Yankees 2002-1st Yankees game
This is not only epic for being my first Yankees game. And Roger Clemens trying to get his 299th win against us. But for the epic story that evolved from this game. I would have to dedicate an entirely separate post to it. Because it started a legendary feud between myself and Jason Giambi that is still going on today! The key players involve myself, Giambi, 2 of my cousins, Derek Jeter, Leonardo DiCaprio (Yes that Leonardo), the Boston police, Josh Duhamel (Yes, Fergie’s husband), the SARs disease, ESPN commentators and at least 4 near arrests! Everybody should have a famous archenemy. Well, I got mine. Fuckin’ Giambi.
Patriots vs Bills 2002-1st game in Buffalo
Drew Bledsoe got the hell out-of-town after he witnessed the greatness that is Tom Brady after he brought us our first Super Bowl victory. Bledsoe went up north to Buffalo. So my buddies and I started our almost annual Pats/Bills trip that year. What makes this epic is how I shaved my head and while drunk, had a couple of hottie Pats groupies paint “Bills Suck!” on the back of my head. Tom Brady threw 3 touchdowns and every time we scored I got up and pointed to the back of my head to show 60,000 Bills fans how much I thought their team sucked. The Pats won 38-17 and Bills fans actually came up to us after the game to shake our hands and congratulate us on a great team. This just showed how Buffalo fans are such pussies. Boston fans would never shake the hand of the opposing team’s fans after a loss in our house. Never!
Celtics vs Magic 2009-1st Celtics playoff game floor seats
The Celtics won the title the year before. But Kevin Garnett was out injured this year for this game. The Cs would win this game but lose the series. But I had the sickest seats and a girl with me that practically would come to my house, kick in my door and try to rape me 4-5 times a week. She was a freak!!! And the high that this game put her on was unreal! And I reaped the epic benefits that night. Oh yeah. Thank you Celtics.
Game 1 of the Red Sox World Series 2004
This was game 1 of the first Red Sox World Series since 1986! Boston baseball in October!!! We came back down 3 games to nothing to beat the Yankees the series before! We were offered $5000 apiece to sell our tickets! We paid $50 face! We partied with Ben & JLo. Aerosmith. Kelly Clarkson. James Taylor. Don & Remy. Jimmy Fallon & Drew Barrymore. Even fucking Cliff from Cheers. We would sweep the Cardinals and a bunch of “Idiots” would finally break “the curse”. The game itself this time was epic. And I was there.
Bruins vs Canadiens 2009-1st Bruins playoff game ever
The Bruins swept the Canadiens but would later lose to Carolina. This is hockey’s version of Sox/Yanks. And I was there….with….wait for it….an epic young hottie model. I was the envy of all the trailer park trash fans in our section. The game was great. She was epic. Then she ended up hating me. Oh well.
Patriots vs Chargers-AFC Championship 18-0 game 2008
My brother-in-law and I broke our Pats single season games record that year. We knew something great was happening. We all did in Boston. We went to 3 regular season games. To the Jets game in NYC. And then the last home game of the season. That season we saw Brady break the TD record. Moss broke the TD record. The team broke the points record. Followed by our playoff win over Jacksonville for 17-0. Then the AFC championship game to reach 18-0! It was unreal. We were perfect! You couldn’t touch anybody in Gillette that night because we were all on cloud nine after that win and we all knew we were going to have the perfect season of 19-0. We even had our Super Bowl plan together. We had tickets for $400. The flight. A place to stay. But then work kept us both home. And the Pats…..lost. 18-1. We’re both glad we didn’t end up going. Because we would both still be in jail for killing Giants fans. But that 18-0 game high was epic.
Red Sox vs Angels-Marathon Monday Debauchery week 2007
Patriots Day is a Boston only holiday. AKA Marathon Monday. The Sox also play on this day. The day is one big party. This wasn’t my first Marathon Monday game. Been doing it for years. This year however was different. It started one of the craziest weeks of my life. I started the week partying for the game/marathon/holiday with friends and 2 girls, yes 2 girls I never should’ve been involved with. I also worked with them. And they were best friends. Two days after the game I hopped on a flight to South Beach. The day after that, on a 5 day cruise with both of these girls to the Bahamas. I drank and partied for 7 straight days that covered 2 cities, 2 states, 2 countries, another random hottie girl thrown into the mix who definitely roofied me in SoBe, a lot of sea sickness, yellow Bohemian cocaine drug dealers, killer waves, a Miami Vice frozen drink addiction, happy hour every hour, managed to get second degree burns on my head, Sox/Yankees games in Spanish, a KGB princess, homemade Bohemian alcohol in coconut shells and would later end up losing my job when I got back because of what happened that week. Oh and did I mention that none of the girls speak to me at all anymore? Hey things happened that started at this game. Some good. Some bad. All of them epic. And only shit I could get into!
So those were some of my epic game moments. Believe it or not, there are actually a few more game stories that are even crazier than these. But I’m still not sure if blogging counts as admitting to a crime or not yet!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “The Scene” Post
What is “The Scene”? “The Scene” is where you go out to. Who you hang out with. Who & what you see when you go out. And what you do when you are out with these people at certain places during certain days of the week and at certain times. Get it? No? Stay with me. “The Scene” gets built over a period of time in your life. It starts at the time you start going to under 21 clubs then until you either get a fake ID or when you turn 21 and it continues all the way through until whatever age you happen to be when you get married or stop going out altogether or drop dead. For some “The Scene” can go 5 years. For others it can go 25 years. You see, I have a love/hate relationship with “The Scene”. I’ve been on the scene since I was 17 years old. I’ve watched the city of Boston evolve with my age. From under 21 clubs & house parties. To college bars & clubs during the ecstasy/water bottle/glow stick days. To upscale restaurants and lounges as an adult. I’m older and wiser now and I’ve come to the realization when you know you should be getting out of “The Scene”. You know it’s time to get out of “The Scene” when you find yourself saying things like:
“The scene never changes. Same faces everywhere we go.”
You’ve come to the realization that you are sick of everybody you know. All they do is go out and get drunk every night. And you do too. If you’re seeing them, then they’re seeing you. Time to try new places. Or Match.com.
“I’m getting out of the scene.”
Yeah right. You say this every time you go out when you don’t get laid. You’re upset. And horny. It’s ok. But stop lying. You’ll be out again tomorrow night. Also, you may be an alcoholic.
“That dude is like 50! Why is he still on the scene?!”
You know this guy. He’s been going out for like 30 years. He dresses like he’s 24. Acts like he’s 18. Tries to convince 21-year-old girls he’s important so they’ll sleep with him. He loves the attention. If you’re friends with him, time to get out of the scene. Or make new friends. Because people are not only laughing at him, they’re laughing at you.
“That chick banged every dude on the scene.”
If you know this chick and have slept with her. It’s time to get out of the scene because other girls now know this and you have been marked. If you haven’t slept with her, then you are lame. But at least you don’t have herpes like your buddies. If you are this girl. Shame on you. Send me your number.
“She’s only 21?! She looks 35! Shit the scene messed her up good.”
She is that chick who banged every dude on the scene’s best friend. Do not talk to this girl. Do not hook up with her. And don’t be the sucker who dates her. She is damaged goods. Her only mission is to party. Hard. If you see her in the daylight, you’ll realize it’s time to retire from the scene.
“She/he only hooks up with people on the scene.”
The scene is a very incestuous crowd. A lot of people on the scene only hook up with other people on the scene. Don’t be one of those people. If you are already one of those people then there is no hope for you. And you haven’t seen the sun in years. Tanning beds don’t count either.
“Normal people don’t hang out on the scene.”
They really don’t. But they also don’t go out at all really either. These people go to work. To the gym. Watch tv for an hour each night. Read a little in bed. Then go to sleep. Every damn day! They sleep a full 8 hours. They have the occasional glass of wine. They are either always single without having sex or always in a relationship. Normal? Yes. Boring? Fuck yes. But these people are your only way out of the scene. And to be with one, you must become one. Tough call I know.
“I’m too old to be on the scene.”
This is the be all, end all realization statement that you are ready to retire from the scene. This is the epiphany moment when you start to see yourself, everybody and everything differently. It could happen at any time while on the scene. During a shot of patron. During sex on a toilet in the club’s bathroom. Talking to a drunk girl who just puked on you. Dodging a punch from some douche. Dancing when a song comes on and you don’t know who is singing. Or you do know the song because it’s the same song you danced to at your 7th grade dance. When you say this, it’s over. You’ll start to do things you never did before. The scene will start becoming smaller in your life until the point it is almost nonexistent. Congrats. You are officially ready to leave the scene.
Now just because you are starting to prepare for your life outside of “The Scene”, it doesn’t mean you can’t go out. Or your life is over. Or you have to get married and suffer in other ways altogether like your married friends. Oh no. All it means is that you are finally comfortable being you and you still don’t know what you want. But you now know what you don’t want. And that’s how it starts.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Anniversary Post” Post
This post is about my anniversary! Not my marriage! Are you crazy?! Have you not been reading this blog?! No, we’re at a milestone here at t-blawg! This is my 20th post! Five months in the can! I wanted to use this post to thank all of my followers. Thank you! I really appreciate your support! I hope I can continue to do this forever. It’s fun and very therapeutic for me. It saves me from going to a damn shrink. Cause I know I need one. These posts allow me to share my writing and experiences with people who would never be able to read my film & television scripts, facebook updates, tweets, email blasts or offensive texts. And I also get to share my views with total strangers while building an audience and that audience has really grown. Fast. Very cool! It’s great hearing from people on Twitter http://twitter.com/tblawg and Facebook http://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Read-t-blawg/339275225891 who have opinions on t-blawg and also those who just enjoy reading it to past time. And even those who don’t like it and find it offensive. I mainly continue to do this to spite you. Not only did I want to thank my followers with this post but I also wanted to mention and address a few things that have come up about this blog over the last 5 months.
Are you a real person?
Yep. I’m real. I am really this way. In some cases, I used to be a certain way but I’m getting better. Or worse. Depending on who you ask. Everything I write is a true story. Past or present. Every opinion is honest. Even the sarcastic ones. While I may be awesome, I am truly fucked in the head.
Why T?
That’s my nickname. That’s what I go by. It also allows me to write with some anonymity. I’m a businessman and I can’t be blowing up my spot! And it’s also the name of the damn blog.
Why not the normal “statement/question/opinion” topical blog?
Because everybody thinks they are a blogger these days. Like what they say and think is so damn important. Honestly, have you come across a blog yet and after reading it said “Wow. That person is right. Now I know. My life has been changed.” No! Go read those lame ass normal blogs if you want. But you know where your bread is buttered! Right here baby!!!
Why blawg over blog?
Blawg is a play on the Boston dialect. We have the coolest or dumbest sounding dialect. Again, depends on who you ask.
Can you put up a post more than once a week?
No. Even though I have a shit load of material, I am too damn busy! Just enjoy Monday AKA t-blawg day.
Why so anti-married life?
I’m really not. Yes I enjoy my single life and all the awesomeness it brings but there are perks to being married too. But I wouldn’t know because almost every married person I know is miserable. When I find that special lady who will put up with me, then I’ll change t-blawg accordingly. Exit awesome. Enter death. Just kidding! Not really. But for now, it’s a crazy single guy awesome life blog ok?
Comments please people!
I love getting tweets, facebook comments, texts, emails, phone calls and even those “Hey, your blog is awesome!” and “Hey, fuck you and your blog!” from people out in public, but what I really would appreciate is taking all of that feedback and actually seeing them as comments on the blog itself. That would be cool. Get a little interaction going and at least other people can see them instead of just me. This will also help expand and grow my audience. Much appreciated yo!
Well that’s all. Thank you again for reading t-blawg! Please continue to do so and tell your friends. I have a lot of writing in me and I plan on sharing it whether you like it or not.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Stacked Bullpen” Post
Every single guy has a pipeline. A chick net. Old school term: black book. It consists of the women we are either dating, hooking up with, booty calling, girls we’re just starting to talk to and even some ex-girlfriends. Even guys in relationships have them. Oh yeah they do. Each girl in the pipeline is on a different level. And we use them for different things. Sometimes the pipeline is huge and out of control. Sometimes it diminishes depending on whether you are in a relationship or only focusing on one or two women in the pipeline. But it is always there. And it is a necessity. So we can swap one woman out for the next one. Ruthless? Yes. But it’s a way of life. And women do it too. Now the older you get the more you need to find ways to grow, control and really take advantage of your pipeline. That’s why every guy also needs to have a bullpen. A bullpen consists of the women who can assist you with the women in your pipeline. So swallow your pride and stop believing in that “The only women I talk to are the women I’m banging. So I can’t be friends with any chicks.” bullshit. You need to get that shit out of your head! Because once I created the bullpen method, my life changed.
I’m older now. Wiser. And I have a stacked bullpen. It’s full of women who I can go to for any female question, problem, scenario and either an individual answer or the overall collective answer from my stacked bullpen usually gives about an 87% accuracy. Because let’s face it. I don’t care how good you think you are. How great your game is. How mighty your pimp hand be. Each woman is different and they can, at any time, drop some unforeseen shit on your ass. And odds are, somebody in your bullpen has dropped some of that unforeseen shit on some dude at some point in her life. See what I mean? Your bullpen needs to consist of women you are not banging. Not dating. You can break these rules but be sure to swap them out immediately after sex with another woman who offers the same exact skill set because that girl in your bullpen is now in your pipeline. And you need her skills in your arsenal. Reload brother.
My bullpen consists of a woman who I’ve been close friends with since college. A married mother of 2 with another on the way in suburbia. An out-of-state single female version of me. A slightly older single man-eater. And a young hottie who lives on the party scene. These 5 women cover every part of the female world that I am interested in. That I have sex with. That I date. That I would have a relationship with. That I may marry and have kids with one day. They are all hot, intelligent, experienced and quick to let me know what I’m doing right and wrong. And as good as I am on my own, they make me better. And they need me too at times. I’m in their bullpen. And they use me often. They are available by phone, by text, by facebook. Sometimes I only need one of their point of views. Sometimes I need all 5 of them. It depends on the situation I got myself into. Remember, our boys can only do so much. Because most of the time when you ask your buddy for his opinion he will say “Just bang her.” Or “Just bang her friend.” Or “Get that slut out of your life.” Great advice 9 out of 10 times. But sometimes you do need a female’s point of view. And you won’t get it from the girl you’re involved with. Because she wants you to “figure her out” without telling you what she wants. Yeah cause that’s always fucking fun. But you will from your bullpen. So try to find some women who you are not banging. Put them in your bullpen. And elevate your game. Trust me. You won’t be disappointed. Stack your bullpen my friends.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Moving” Post
Moving means change. I’ve only moved 3 times in my entire life. Crazy right? I know people that move annually. Not me. Just one more non-average thing about me. I couldn’t afford to live at school when I was in college since all of the costs were on me and I helped out at home too. So I moved out with 2 years left in college into my first apartment. An in-law apartment in my sister’s house. My sister & bro-in-law knew I had to get out of my parents’ place and they gave me a sweet deal. Nice place. Parking spot. Pool. Laundry. Cheap rent. Home cooked meals! And I got to play with my nieces & nephew any time I wanted. I lived there for 9 years. It was great. Most of the closest family members I gave a shit about were in the same neighborhood and I was just 10 minutes away from shooting into downtown for work and play. I consider these my transition years. Went from a kid who thought he knew everything to a man who realized he didn’t know shit. I finished college. Got my first real job in corporate America learning how to make some clean, honest money. I also got into screenwriting during this time. And made a lot of mistakes while trying to have fun while out playing. During this whole time, I managed to keep my home life safe. Stable. No drama. No fighting at home like I did while growing up. My first apartment was my sanctuary. A safe place. A quiet zone. My next place? Eh not so much.
The next place I moved into was properly dubbed “The Boss Condo”. It fit my ego. My lifestyle. Because at this time in my life, I was ready to step it up. Step it all up! I had come into my own in life. I was older, making great money and knew exactly what I wanted. A place in downtown Boston where I can enjoy the finer things in life! Women. Clubs. Alcohol. Fenway 2 blocks away. Movies filming outside almost daily. New friends. More money. And being able to come and go without worrying about anything or anybody but myself for a change. I did just that. For 2 years I partied my ass off! Hard! Out 4-5 nights a week. Made a lot of new friends. Met a lot of new women. Got tickets to any game I wanted. Got on every movie set. Built a hell of a network. And went to every hotspot in Boston. Mission accomplished baby. And that shit took it’s friggin’ toll on me. But it also grew me up in ways I didn’t know I needed to grow up. When I reflected on this time, it turned out that it wasn’t all just partying and women. I actually became a better screenwriter. Started my own business. Became close friends with some great people. Got into mixed martial arts. And sewn the wildest of oats without too many regrets. This is what a single man with ambition does people!!! Don’t judge. Just acknowledge.
Now, I’m definitely grown up. Not all grown up. But getting there. I’m turning that corner in life. You’ll know it when you get there. Believe me. Maybe you already have. I plan for this new place to be my last place before I get where I know I’m going. The past is in the past. No more mistakes. No more drama. No more learning. I know where I’m at in my life. I’ve put the work in. Laid the foundation to build a life of success, health and happiness. That much is certain. With that, the next phase in my life will most likely see things getting a little more serious for me in every way possible. Now I won’t get into all that here, because this is still t-blawg yo! Plus I can’t put an exact timeframe on all of that. Because some things you just can’t plan. So I’ll get there. And have a great time while I’m here at this place! So it’s going to be some busy, fun and of course awesome next few years! I know now that I’ll never look back and say “I should’ve tried that when I was single.” “Could’ve did that when I lived in town.” “Why didn’t I go there when I didn’t have kids?” “I hate my job working for this asshole.” I’ve always lived my life without too many regrets and learned from almost every mistake. I’m pretty strategic. Routine yet spontaneous. Smart yet sometimes pretty damn stupid. Quiet but really fucking loud mostly. Remembering where you come from, knowing where you are now and where you want to go in life is a great feeling. But not knowing what can happen next? It’s why we really make moves in life.
Bet you thought this was going to be about how packing and moving furniture sucks and shit right? Little deeper than that.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “I Could Do That” Post
I like to have an answer for everything. So when people ask me something like “Could you imagine doing that?” Or “Could you ever imagine that happening to you?” I like to say “Yes. Yes I could.” Because at some point in my life I’ve thought about what it would be like to do everything. Be in every situation. And how I could fit into every role possible in life. I don’t know why! But here are some of them.
Military Guy
I friggin’ hate authority! That would be my problem with this role. But I am very routine with my health and working out. And I respect the shit out of the people who protect this country. But me in the military would go something like this. A week of some killer workouts. Getting pissed off at some general for telling me what to do. Punching him. Getting thrown in the clink. Then breaking out and waging a one man war on terrorism across the world as “The Rogue Soldier From Hell” as my name.
President of the United States
This is too much power for any man. Especially me. And I would abuse the shit out of it! First change. Boston is now the nation’s capital! The national anthem is now “Big Pimpin’” by Jay-Z. And I will send in special teams of trained death row convicts to take over every country promising them their freedom instead of using our soldiers then immediately kill the convicts once each country is taken over and has become as awesome as the USA. Megan Fox would be my First Lady. Don’t give a shit if she wants to or not. And I get to throw out the first pitch at every Yankees game wearing a Red Sox jersey and secret service will snipe out any fan that boos me. Definitely thought about this one. A lot.
Head of some Church
Me in charge of a place where people put their faith into something they can’t see and give me money to keep doing it while listening to what I have to say for 2 hours every Sunday?! Shiiiiitttt! Sign me up! But it would be more like a cult. And instead of reading from some holy book, you read posts from t-blawg! Holla!!!!
Radio host
I would get more fines than Howard Stern ever did. Me in front of a microphone for 4 hours a day knowing that I have the opportunity and resources to reach millions of people live daily?! The world would never be the same again.
Cop
I’ll say this right now. I’d be a crooked cop cutting deals left and right with criminals. Robbing cool shit from the evidence room. Speeding up and down the streets blowing red lights. Making up codes over the radio to fuck with people. And shooting almost everybody for no reason whatsoever. I could never be a cop.
Male whore
Take out the disease problem and I would totally rule at this! I’m a great date. Can be a gentleman. If the price is right. I look awesome in a suit. And will do anything in bed. Again if the price is right. And no pimp would ever take my money because I can choke his ass the fuck out.
Lone Survivor on a Deserted Island
I would probably die of boredom after 2 days. I need people. Need my Mac. I need the internet. I fucking hate nature. Put a hot chick there and a solar-powered windmill that generates electricity. I’ll never see you again.
Late Night Talk Show Host
All late night talk show hosts suck!!! They all have the same lame ass, predictable opening, corny ass joke full monologues. Same stupid ass desk and chair setups. A retarded fucking bandleader sidekick. And wear lame ass suits. I’d change that up fast! But I couldn’t be on network TV. Strictly cable. For the risqué factor. I’d write my own monologue. No lame ass desk. It’d be a table. And my guests would sit across from me. And I would not ask them any snowball, already pre-screened bullshit questions! I’d look them right in the eye and ask them what the hell were they thinking making that shitty movie! That bad song?! Who are you banging? Have some real rapport. And no stand up comedians. I’ll end that shit with my own killer jokes. My shit would be cool! And probably cancelled faster than Magic Johnson’s show.
Evil Mastermind out for World Domination
I have pulled off some downright evil schemes in my day just because I could! When I plot against you, you are fucked. I’m talking payoffs, blueprints, strategically placed people & plans, months of plotting and research just for revenge or fun even. I’ve pulled off some shit I could never disclose on this blog! Careers ended. Heartbreak. Lives ruined. Some deaths even! Just to further myself in life and crush my enemies. If I wanted to put this ability to test on a grander stage, forget about it. Nobody could stop me. Countries would crumble at my power. Now that I think about it, why am I not being an evil mastermind right now?!
Astronaut
I just want to go out of space and land on a new planet and discover a race of sexy alien sluts. Don’t care about the research. Don’t care about floating around like a dope. The first person to discover a hot ass female race and bring them back to Earth will be the most famous, richest son of a bitch in the history of history! And that man should be me!
Hitman
You take my time in the military and combine it with my time as a cop and throw in some 6 figure contract money….no women, no kids of course and I would be the greatest hitman ever. I hate most people. And getting paid to fucking kill them would be AWESOME!!!
So there it is! I’ve thought about being and doing everything. My mind never stops. If I ever become a brain surgeon I’ll have to figure out why the fuck it never stops.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Types of Women to Avoid Vol. 1” Post
Between myself and my boys, over the years we’ve dated, been involved with, hooked up with & married all different types of women. And I’ve definitely learned from these experiences. I’ve decided to start a list, in volumes, about these women to share it here with all of you! Take notice my friends. These are the types of women you want to avoid when it comes to “relations”.
Co-worker
Do not shit where you eat! Do not shit where you eat! Follow this!!! I don’t care how hot she is. What she says she will do to you in bed. Once you get involved with this chick, she will make your life hell! Because now you see her before work, at work and after work! She knows everything you do and will fuck with you in every way possible. It took me 5 times to learn this shit. DO NOT GET INVOLVED WITH THE CHICK YOU WORK WITH!!!
Leaving My Boyfriend Soon
This girl seems sweet. So kind. So beautiful. She just got into the wrong relationship and you’re the right one for her. She said so. You believe her. You are a fucking idiot! She’s never leaving him! And if and when she does, it’s not going to be for you! You are her emotional friend! That’s it. She will never bang you. Never like you. Fuck this heartless bitch and the horse she rode in on! Bounce dude! Bounce!!!!
Party girl
Doesn’t matter if she fucks like a rabbit when she’s blowing lines off your penis. She does drugs for a reason. Doesn’t matter that she has a suitcase full of kinky toys. She has sexual trauma. Don’t care if you find it hot that she takes it in the poop shoot. She’s a dirty little freak and that’s all you got. Outside of the partying and sex, she will try to kill you while killing herself. She’s on a mission to self destruct and when you try to call her out on it she will try to stab you with a butcher knife. Stay away from party girl. Seriously.
School teacher
She loves kids. She wants kids. That means she wants marriage. This is all that is on her pretty little perky brain 24/7. Know this going in. Marry this broad if you want. But don’t bang her.
Foreign chick
She’s hot. Sexy. Barely speaks English. Your bodies do the talking for you. It’s fun. It’s passionate. Then the feds storm in and deport the girl back to Brazil. For real. Don’t laugh. This shit happened.
The girl who does nothing
She lives at home. Is 18 credits shy of a college degree at 27 and is thinking about going back but never will. She is broke. Looks good because all she does is workout and tan all day. Snap out of it dummy! The bitch is a leech! She will clean out your bank account so fast. Stay the hell away from does nothing girl!
The divorcee
You want the queen of all head cases and full of anger??? Then go out with the divorcee. Everything fucked up that her ex did to her, she is looking to exact revenge on with your stupid ass. Have fun.
Career chick
This girl puts her job before everything. Everything! You will never see her. And when you do she is so stressed out from work. Always checking her email from her blackberry. And I guarantee every dude at her office is fucking her more than you.
Fitness honey
Hey I like to workout too. But when you’re dating a female marine drill sergeant, her hot body starts to stop mattering to you. She doesn’t drink. Won’t go anywhere fun to eat. She likes to do a dominant power bang then get her 9 hours of sleep. And she just might be a lesbian.
Dumb broad
Doesn’t matter if she is the hottest girl on the planet. If you get to date number 3 and all you know about this girl is she likes reality tv, Justin Bieber and red velvet nail polish, she is a retard. Bang her then get the fuck out. Her incoherent texts will stop being cute fast. Her inability to understand what is going on in the world will become painful. Unless you’re a retard too. Then do the world a favor and stay put. You’re taking one for the team bro. Just don’t have kids together.
Chick You Gotta Mold
This is a last minute entry to this list. I could’ve saved it for Volume 2 but after his weekend I realized a chick in my life is “Gotta Mold” girl. Back in the day I’d have no problem molding a chick but now I don’t have the time or patience. Not saying she’s a bad girl. Just saying it’s not worth any grown man’s time. She’s immature. And even if you helped her to try to do something more with her life, she’s still doesn’t get it and is a waste of your time. If you want to put the time in, ok. Just remember this. You have to get into her head before you get into her bed. Break her mentally. If you treat her like an asshole, she’ll love it. Then you can shape her to your liking. Me? Sorry hun. I just don’t have the time or the stomach for that anymore. Good luck in life.
That was my first volume of the types of women you want to avoid. But you’re a man so you’ll probably read this, laugh and go make the same mistakes I did. And you know what? I will most likely make them again too. We are doomed as a race.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Hip Hop Life” Post
I love hip hop. Been a fan since it started. From Run DMC to LL to Kool Moe Dee to the Beastie Boys in the beginning to the controversy of NWA & Ice-T & 2 Live Crew to the political messages of Public Enemy & KRS-One to the corniness of Vanilla Ice & Digital Underground & MC Hammer. Just watch what I do when challenged to a “You Can’t Touch This” dance off. It’s like Hammer’s ghost takes over my body. And the man isn’t even dead yet. To the re-submergence of East Coast rap with Biggie & Jay-Z & Nas to the East Coast/West Coast battle between Bad Boy & Death Row to the evolution of the South from No Limit & The Hot Boyz to the current state of hip hop with Eminem & Lil’ Wayne & Kanye & Ludacris & 50 Cent & Rick Ross & T.I. My iPod is stacked with hip hop. I have over 6,000 songs and at least 70% is rap. All the classics! “Radio”, “License to Ill”, “All Eyez on Me”, “Ready to Die”, “Life After Death”, “Doggie Style”, “Straight Outta Compton” and every single Jay-Z album from “Reasonable Doubt” to “Blueprint 3”!
Hip hop music and movies have always been a big part of my life. Growing up, my boys and I would always drive around blasting rap from giant stolen bass tubes, amps and woofers letting people know we were coming from 3 blocks away! We’d go see “New Jack City”, “Boyz In Da Hood”, “Menace to Society”, “Poetic Justice”, “Juice”, “Above the Rim” in theaters where fights, stabbings and shootings would occur. It was the norm for us. We used to hop on Greyhound and Peter Pan buses to New York City just so we could go see Marcy Projects, Queensbridge and Harlem. We didn’t give a fuck. We took the ferry over to Wu-Wear and we had to be buzzed into the store! Three white Boston boys walking in without a care in the world. The music stopped playing. But we had to get those Wu-Tang Forever and Butter Pecan t-shirts! Then we had lunch with Cappadonna. (Look him up if you don’t know.) My cousin and I bought “Reasonable Doubt” back in 96 from Dame Dash selling it out of the trunk of his caddy before Jay even had that Roc-a-fella deal. Years later I found myself partying with Ghostface Killa atop of Ghost Bar in Vegas drinking Scooby-Doos & Incredible Hulks wearing his spinning Wu medallion around my neck as he yelled at me “You fuckin’ crazy Nasty T from Boston!” As I replied “You have no idea Ghost! I will cut somebody!” And we shared a good laugh.
I remember the night at my cousin’s house watching the Tyson fight and after it all of our pagers going off when Tupac got shot. One of them was my mother! She did buy me “The Chronic” after all. The album. Not the weed. I got her 911911911 page and called her. “Ma, what’s wrong?!” All nervous. She goes “You know they got 2Pac right?! It’s on now!” It sucked that 2Pac got shot and later died but I still laugh at that phone call. I got an almost identical page about six months later driving around. Didn’t even get to say a word when I called. “Now they got Biggie!!! It’s horrible! Are you coming home tonight or are you doing something bad?!” Classic. I’m a grown man now. And hip hop has grown too. Maybe the MCs aren’t as great as they used to be. The lyrics not as profound. The messages have changed. But still. It’s hip hop. And I never liked it when people say “You still listen to rap?!” How come nobody asks that about any other type of music? I will always listen to rap. My boys still do. My nieces & nephew do. And my kids will one day too. Can’t wait to call my future son up one day and say “Aw shit son! They smoked Lil’ Wayne Jr.! It’s on nowww!!!”
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Justin Bieber” Post
That’s right. Your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you. This is indeed my Justin Bieber post. The little boy who is all the rage right now. His flattened and wind swept hair. His angelic feminine voice. His ability to make his fans want to kill Kim Kardashian over a Twitter pic of the two of them together. His….wait. Hear me out before you run out of here to Facebook or one of your favorite porn sites. I don’t like Justin Bieber. As a matter of fact I think he’s an annoying, talentless little fucker who definitely sold his soul to the devil for fame and fortune. But he does have people talking and tweeting and shit. This post isn’t about all that. It isn’t even about how his career will be over once his balls drop and his voice gets an octave deeper next month. No. You see. This little prepubescent shit is to women now what Britney Spears was to us men back in 1998. That’s right ladies! Now we got all you hypocritical women by the balls!!!
I remember it like it was yesterday. A little blonde slampig popped up on my tv screen in pigtails wearing a little school girl outfit bumping and grinding all over the place. I had been watching TRL for so long waiting for something like this. Wait….what? No I didn’t watch it every day. Just sometimes. When I got out of class early and shit. Shut up. We all watched it! Anyways. There she was. Her “Oh baby babies” made every guy think dirty thoughts. More dirtier than usual that is. But we weren’t allowed to talk about it because she was 17 years old. But we did. We talked to each other. Men telling men about how hot we thought this underage dirty girl was. Convincing each other that it was ok because “She looks 25.” And “I found her birthday on that internet thing and she’s almost 18 so it isn’t that bad dude!” But if a woman heard us talk like that. Or caught us with a magazine of Britney Spears in it. Remember that Rolling Stone issue?! Madone!!! We got holy hell for it! And now you broads got the Bieber! All 16 years of him. Gotcha.
You see back then we didn’t have Facebook or Twitter to follow Britney. We couldn’t create fan pages dedicated to her hotness. Couldn’t tweet in public about whether or not her tits were real. We had to talk about it in secrecy! But all you Bieber lovers are so blatant about it today! I see grown women talking on Facebook about how they want to molest him. They @ mention him on Twitter about how they’re masturbating to him. Crazy sick shit for the whole world to see and nothing is being done about it! Well fuck that! All the shit we got for Britney 12 years ago, well I’m calling you out on this blog right now. You women should be ashamed. You’re pathetic. Wanting to do that to a little boy when you have fully capable men with hairy chests and dropped ballsacks ready and waiting to bang you all. You’re all just as damaged as us and now the world knows it. You know it. But it’s ok. Let’s be imperfect together. Come home ladies. We’re waiting. And if you need another incentive. Look how busted Britney became. Your false young sex idol is heading that way. Fuck Justin Bieber. Figuratively. Fuck us literally. Because that’s what we did with Britney. We ain’t mad at ya.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “t-facts” Post
If you’ve been reading t-blawg for a while you know two things about me. I’m honest. I’m crazy. Lately I’ve been doing some facts about myself over on Twitter and hashtagging each one with a #tfact. I’m not explaining what a hashtag is. Go on Twitter. It has it’s own vocabulary. It’s like getting to know that foreign kid from that country you never knew existed that you had in your class back in high school and you gave him an American name because you couldn’t say his real name. Anyways, I decided to dedicate a post to some facts about myself. I think they’re entertaining. You might too.
tfact: “I Don’t Answer My Phone”
Most people like to talk for no fucking reason whatsoever. I’m so damn busy. I don’t have time for chit chat. You need to get me? Text me. Short and sweet. How I like my women. 9 out of 10 times I won’t answer my phone. Unless you’re my mother, my sister, my boy Stama, a money-making business opportunity or Megan Fox, I don’t want to talk to you! But if you text, I will reply. Eventually. You know why? Because what you have to say is never important! Here’s how I know. Ready? When you call and I send you to voicemail you….don’t…..leave….a message!!! See?! Not important.
tfact: “I Don’t Drink Coffee”
I don’t like coffee. I know I’m in the major minority here. But I never got it’s appeal. Like you need the caffeine? No you don’t. That shit is all in your head. Remember before you drank it? You didn’t need it because you didn’t drink it. You make no sense. You’re weak. I get by drinking like 8 gallons of water a day. And I manage. I’m not saying I’m better than you. I’m just saying you’re a pussy. If you really like being addicted to something then grow some balls and try crack. Go big or go home I say.
tfact: “I Know All of the Words to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air Theme Song”
Before he was Will Smith the dude was the Fresh Prince. And from 1990-1996 I watched that show religiously! I still find myself Youtubing the Carlton Dance. I’m just glad my mother wasn’t as strict as his. Dude got in one little fight, his mom got scared and sent him to go live with his auntie and uncle in Bel-Air?! Little fucking harsh no? My mother kept me and I did way worse shit than that! Plus we didn’t have any rich relatives. Anyways. I can spit the theme song out word for word without the beat. I’m hardcore like that.
tfact: “I Have a Dark Hair Pretty Eyes Vice”
I thought I used to have a type. But now I realize it was just a vice. But every woman I have ever met with dark hair and sweet pretty eyes made me go insane. It’s not a type. It’s a vice. Because now I’ll date or hookup with a woman with blonde hair and fucking lazy eyes if she’s cool, smart, ambitious and the rest of her is hot as fuck. But if I’m ever talking to this crazy eyed hottie and old dark hair pretty eyed girl walks by, I’m screwed. Hey, even T has a vice or two yo. But it ain’t caffeine. Zing!
tfact: “I’ve Never Been Skiing or Ice Skating”
I love the gym. I love running outside. I do MMA. I love a good pickup game of basketball. But I can’t stand snow sports! Don’t mind the snow. Just don’t like fucking around in it. I’ve been invited to ski a dozen times. Pass! “T, you can drink and bang a chick in the cabin by the fireplace after you ski” they say. Why the hell would I pay $400 to do that there when I can do that at home for free and still have both my legs not be broken?! Ice skate? I’ll take you to the Frog Pond honey and run beside you like Rocky did while you skate like Adrianne. I can’t bust my head open. I need it. The world needs it!
tfact: “I Don’t Kiss Broads in the Club”
My boys give me shit for this one. A lot. They call it my Pretty Woman rule. Look, call me crazy but I’ll say right here what I say to them. Kissing a chick for me is intimate. It means I like her. I’ll bang a chick I don’t like. But I won’t kiss her. For real. I’ve banged some chicks I’ve downright despised in my time!!! But kiss them? Never. Not me. Not my chair. Not my problem.
tfact: “I am Barred From the Econo Lodge. All of Them”
It’s been documented on here before that I’ve been known for making a crank call or two in my time. Well how about 200 of them in 2 hours??? Yeah that’s right. My sister and bro-in-law were kind enough to take my cousin and I to Six Flags in New Jersey when I was 15. They knew we would do something bad eventually. What they didn’t know was that we’d do something like this just 5 hours after we left Boston. We had our own hotel room next to them. And my cousin and I were already notorious for our crank calls. We checked in at 11PM. We both looked at the phone and went to work. We called every room in the hotel at least 20 times with a different voice/story each time. We quickly realized nobody could tell that the calls were coming from our room. We had people convinced diabetics needed refrigeration for their insulin. Convinced others that there were terrorists amongst us. Bombs in the hotel. A mandatory guest meeting in the lobby at midnight. Missing children. And a 3-alarm chemical fire in room 310 that was contained but would spread shortly! The lone hotel desk guy came to our room but we pretended like we were sleeping. We eventually opened the door once he alerted my sister to our shenanigans. He took our phone. TV. Refrigerator. Made us pack our bags and made my sister put down $200 so we could stay the night there but had to leave promptly at 6AM. We went down the next morning. The guy at the desk showed my cousin and I our names in the hotel database. He marked us both for lifelong bans from the entire Econo Lodge hotel chain. It was awesome.
I hope you enjoyed some of these facts about myself. Because they’re not just your average facts. They’re tfacts! Check them out on Twitter yo @tblawg
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Game Gear Rules” Post
After going to thousands of games in my lifetime, I’ve come across every type of dude wearing every type of game gear to a game. Some try too hard. Some don’t even try at all. There are rules to how you rock your clothes while sitting in the stands cheering on your favorite team. Just like how hot chicks shouldn’t rock the pink gear and just dress a happy, sexy medium. We have rules to follow to. Or else you look like a douche. Here are my “Game Gear Rules”.
Suit Guy
Yeah guy we get it. You just came straight from work. But how hard is it to bring a change of clothes to the office? Or at least lose the tie and jacket. Only the coaches are allowed to rock the full suit. And you’re no coach. You’re barely a fan with that suit on.
Blue Button up Shirt with Khakis and Team Hat Guy
This look is played out at the office. So it sure as hell looks stupid at the ballpark. Throwing the team’s hat on doesn’t help the situation either chief.
Jean Shorts Guy
It’s no longer the grunge era. You’re not in Seattle. No man should ever wear jean shorts. Ever.
Team That Isn’t Even Playing Hat Guy
Never fails. No matter how many times I go to a game, there’s always some guy wearing the hat of a team that isn’t even there playing. Dude, you’re at a Sox/Yankees game! Lose the Detroit Tigers hat! I don’t give a shit if you’re from Detroit. The Tigers aren’t here! Clown.
Signed Jersey Guy
Really? Really? Are you 12 years old dude? Really? Half the signatures on your jersey are from bench guys and you smell because you won’t wash it in fear of washing off those signatures. Lose the signed jersey.
Polo Shirt and Visor Guy
You’re at Fenway Park! Not Pebble Beach! Put on a B hat bro!!!
Just a Hat with Whatever Guy
This is totally fine attire. Just rock the hat of the team you’re representing. No judgment here. As long as it ain’t pink.
Past Championship T-Shirt Guy
Every time I’m in the Boston Garden at a Celtics game I always see at least one guy wearing the 1986 Championship t-shirt from 1986. Come on man! Buy yourself a current team t-shirt for 20 bucks will you?! Even the 2008 championship t-shirt is acceptable! You look like a scrub.
Too Many Pieces of Team Clothing Guy
A team hat with a team shirt is fine. A team hat with a team jacket is fine. A team hat, team shirt and team jacket together is not cool! The most team attire you are allowed to wear without looking like an asshole is 2 pieces! Two that’s it!!! “Utah, get me two!”
Poncho Guy
You’re outside at Fenway or Gillette. Inclement weather is a part of the game. Just man up, drink and get wet! You’re a man! Act like one. Wearing a clear piece of plastic with a hood automatically chops off your balls. For real.
Umbrella Guy
You’re even worse than Poncho guy. I want to beat you with that umbrella.
Sunglasses and Hat Guy
Excuse me. Are you about to go play centerfield? No? Then take off those stupid sunglasses! That’s what the hat is for. Dope.
Beer Helmet Guy
I still see this guy at Patriots games. And even more at Bruins games. You’re not cool. It was never cool. You belong on the short bus.
Blanket Guy
It’s ok for your girl to be under the blanket in late January in Gillette Stadium. Not you. You get a fleece pullover, a knit hat and a beer glove to fight the weather. That’s it. No excuses. Play like a champion.
No Shirt Guy
I don’t care if you’re shredded or fat as a house. ALWAYS KEEP YOUR SHIRT ON! You are the biggest douche in the stands.
Body Paint Guy
I stand corrected. YOU ARE THE BIGGEST DOUCHE IN HERE!!!
Funny Hat/Wig So I Can Get on the Jumbotron Dancing Guy
Drunk or sober. It’s not funny. You crave attention and really want to be on that jumbotron. You know how real men get on the jumbotron? You have a smoking hot girl with you as your date and the cameraman is hating on you for having a girl like that. He zooms in on you two sitting. She smiles. You put your arm around her and wink cause you’re the shit right now. This is the only way a real man should ever get on the jumbotron. Case closed. Now stop dancing and sit down son.
So there you have it. The next time you’re going to the game and thinking about how you want to express your team spirit, just take a look at this list before you leave the house. But more importantly, take a look at yourself in the mirror first dude. If you think you look like a douche, the rest of us will too.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Don’t Be That Chick” Post
The title is self-explanatory. Earlier this year I put out my “Don’t Be That Guy” post. A lot of people really enjoyed it. Because it was honest and it was balls to the wall no bullshit on calling certain guys out who give real men a bad rap. So now it’s time to call out the ladies. Enough is enough. Some of you chicks are giving the good ladies a bad rap as well. Time to let you know who you are. Don’t be that chick.
“Suspicious as Fuck” chick
Jesus Christ. Am I always thinking about sex? Yes. All guys do. When a hot chick walks by do I think about banging her? Sure do. Will I try? Not if I’m involved with you. You put up with my shit. She probably won’t. At all. I know when I have a good thing. Trust me. Sometimes I just need a night out to unwind with the boys. Drink. Spit. Pick my ass. Swear. We’re unwinding. I’m not on the prowl to fuck. Not all the time like you think. Relax. Stop calling. You’re turning me into “My Girl Always Calls so I Have to Leave Now to Avoid a Fight When I get Home” guy. And that guy is a pussy.
“Hates My Family” chick
Every guy’s family is fucked up. They all have issues. But you know what? Yours does too honey. I just choose not to bust your balls on it! So shut the hell up about mine. I know about my family issues. Been dealing with it way before you came along. Every family has a degenerate, alcoholic, junkie, thief, bitch, asshole, loser, etc. Leave it alone. Limit the family interaction and just focus on what we’re doing.
“I Work Too Much and I Neglect You” chick
You like nice things? Well so don’t guys. You know how we get them? With money. We need a job to get the money. I’m busting my ass now so you, maybe our future kids and future me won’t have to worry about it years from now. No guy loves their job but we have to put the time in to secure our spot at work. It’s a territorial thing. We’re proud and we make sure nobody can fuck with our job security because if we don’t bust our ass, there’s always somebody willing to work harder and take our job. Let us do what we do.
“The Game Isn’t That Important” chick
Are your shoes important to you? Your makeup? Your bags? Your hair? Yes! Well alright then. All I care about are my damn sports teams. It’s the one thing I enjoy so for fuck’s sake let me enjoy the game in peace. Why bust my balls over the game? Why I get so into it? So worked up over a loss? You can’t understand like I can’t understand why you love shoes so fucking much. Just let it be.
“Can’t Decide Anything for Shit” chick
Just make a decision. What you’re going to wear. What you’re going to eat. Where we’re going. Who we’re doing it with. How long we’re going to be there. Why we’re still going out with each other or not. You like me. You don’t like me. You hate me. We’re friends. We’re more than friends. We’re just fuck buddies. Who. What. When. Where. Why. Just fucking decide already and stop wasting my fucking time!
“Gets Drunk & Cries in Public” chick
If you can’t handle your liquor honey, don’t fucking drink. You get drunk and then start going nuts right in the middle of the restaurant, bar, whatever. You make an unnecessary scene over the smallest thing that you escalate into an end of the world scenario and then you unleash holy hell. You are the Anti-Christ at that moment and you look like a fucking idiot. But the worst part? I’m there with you and you’re making it look like I did it to you. Control yourself girl.
“Just One of The Guys” chick
I trust you. No really. But I don’t trust anyone of your fucking guy friends. None! The single. The married. The ex. The gay. The ugly. The retarded. The fat. The burn victim. Not one. Because even though you would never think about fucking him, I am convinced that somehow, some way, if this dude gets you drunk enough, wears you down, starts to make you laugh, compliments you enough in one small way that I haven’t done for you lately, he might find a way to bang you. Because that’s what he’s thinking. That’s his master plan. Trust me on this one. EVERY GUY WANTS TO BANG YOU. And you can’t see it! That’s annoying. Just tell him to go fuck himself or let us all hang out together so I can put the fear of God in him.
“You Should Know What’s Wrong With Me” chick
For fuck’s sake just tell me why you’re mad/sad/crying/yelling/not banging me already. No guy wants to figure it out. You can talk. Shit most of the time you don’t shut up but when you want to, you really know how to be quiet. And it’s the one time I really want you to talk. I need you to talk. Just come out with it already! The game’s on!
“Am I fat?” chick
Look. I don’t like this question. No guy does. It’s fucking pointless. I’m with you because I like you and you’re hot. If you think you’re putting on a few pounds get on the scale, see what it says, then up your cardio 30 minutes. It doesn’t mean you’re fat. Now if I catch you in bed with a bucket of KFC, your ass is fat or on the fast track to being fat. Here’s another super secret T tip ladies: If you’re constantly updating your Facebook about eating, wanting to eat, going to eat or putting up pics of the food you are currently eating? You are already fat or going to be fat very soon and you’re in denial. Seriously. That’s what us guys are thinking.
“Puts Our Business Out There” chick
I regulate the shit out of my social media pages. I only allow certain people to see and say certain things about me. There are different levels of privilege for chicks I’m involved with, chick friends, family members, my boys, people from my past and business contacts. My walls, updates, photos, tags, relationship status, etc. are different for every single person on my friends list. Every one! That’s how a real man rolls. But you?! You psycho who blows up my spot broad, you put our shit on blast for the world to see! Our relationship status. You tag me in photos. You post shit on my wall. You let people know where I was and who I was with. You put up videos. You put everything out there and it’s annoying. Let’s keep that to ourselves. Or on the DL if we’re just starting out and seeing where it goes. Relax honey.
“I Need Attention All the Time” chick
Wow. Your neediness has to stop. I avoid the shit out of chicks like this but sometimes it doesn’t show up right away. But when it does, it is annoying as hell! You know where I am and who I’m with. Why keep asking? Your idea of cute little texts get really annoying after the 20th one in 10 minutes. The whole, “What are yoooouuuu doing?” phone call every half hour makes me want to throw my phone at your fucking head. The whole jumping in my face every 5 minutes and acting like an 8 year old on a sugar high wanting to play when we’re out and I’m having an adult conversation with somebody in public makes me want to bang all your hot friends in front of you out of anger. You got me. You have my attention. Just slow down and breathe. Go do something constructive already!
“Daddy Issues” chick
I’m the guy you’re banging. Maybe the guy you’re dating. Maybe a boyfriend. Maybe one day your husband. I can be many things to you. But I AM NOT YOUR FATHER. Whatever issues you have or had with your dad have nothing to do with the type of man I am or the relationship we have or might have one day. You and him have to work that shit out. What you didn’t get from him, I can’t give you. Whatever problems you have with him, I didn’t cause and can never fix. Don’t put that shit on me. Ok? Thank you.
“I Think You’re Drinking Too Much” chick
This is almost every chick. At some point. And if you ever find yourself telling the man in your life that “You drink too much” just take a second and think about how annoying you might have been that week. Now you know. So you can stop saying that now.
So there it is. Just some of the “Don’t Be That Chick” labels that no guy and most real women don’t like or want to be. So if you ever find yourself doing or acting like any of the above, stop it. No really. Stop it. It’s not cute, funny or cool. It just plain old sucks. Don’t be that chick.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Dear Future Me” Post
Dear Future T,
I’ve decided to write this post knowing that one day you’ll be looking back at it reflecting on a life that once was. After years of busting your ass you have finally made it! Congrats!!! Love the black Bentley. Rihanna is a great name for it. The least you could do after making her fall in love with you then breaking her heart. Anyways, you are now ridiculously rich and even more better looking than ever! I can’t believe you are actually married to the hottest model slash actress on the planet with 7 of the most evil little kids who you are shaping into the perfect army of MMA fighters slash mini-bloggers to continue your legacy and assure generations of T dominance. Still can’t get over the fact that t-blawg brought world peace. After it caused both World Wars III & IV. Amazing! Now that you have everything you ever wanted, conquered the entertainment world, family set for life, friends are rich on the company payroll, there are a few things that you are contemplating on doing or not doing and I’m here to tell you what to do!
Do not accept that psycho ex’s friend request on facebook who is only trying to get back into your life now that you made it! Do go to that high school reunion and gloat! Send Megan Fox to voicemail every time! Every time!!! Do not challenge Brock Lesnar to that MMA fight! Do get that Boston skyline tattoo on your back especially now since you own the Prudential building and named it the “T Rules at Life” building! Do not write that Weird Science reboot/remake/sequel for the $50 million they offered you! You are still anti-that shit! And definitely don’t need the money now! Take that other deal and become majority owner of the Bruins! They still haven’t won the cup in over 50 years but maybe, possibly will with you as their owner. Yeah right. I love that you named our kids Primo, Awesome-O, Baby Tom Brady, TT (T Two), Charlie The Wildcard, Costanza and Mila Kunis Jr. Your wife signed the pre-nup. The deal was she gets 4 houses and $10 mil up front and you name the kids whatever the hell you want! Do not change those fucking names T!!!
Again, congrats. You deserve it. I deserve it. We made it. And nothing says we made it better than that giant mural of us giving the world the finger painted on the moon! You know you got those astronauts fired for that shit right? Hahaha! Classic us!
I’m awesome, but you’re more awesome,
Past T
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Boston Law” Post
There are a bunch of Boston stereotypes out there about my city and it’s people. Some good. Some bad. Some just stupid. But let’s get one thing straight right here right now on this blog. These are Boston stereotypes! Not yours! Each city has their own so don’t try to mess with our stereotypes without knowing what they are because you will have to pay the consequences. I’m listing these stereotypes and will confirm whether they are true or false and then place them under “Boston Law” and what the proper punishment for each is if you break these laws. They are the following.
“Wicked”
People from Boston do not say wicked! That’s BOSTON and the neighborhoods that make up the city of Boston. People from western Mass? Some do. Cape Cod? Some do. New Hampshire? Yes. But that’s an entirely different state moron. Ask anybody who says wicked where they were born and raised. I guarantee they weren’t raised in a Boston neighborhood! Posers trying to make you think that they grew up in Boston say wicked in a way that sounds faker than Matt Damon’s accent in The Departed. They’re trying too hard. People born & raised in the CITY of BOSTON DO NOT SAY WICKED!!! Case closed. This is false. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters heard saying that all Bostonians say wicked will get kicked in the ass by each member of both New Kids on the Block and New Edition.
“Pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd”
Do we speak fast in Boston? Abso-fucking-lutely! Why? Because we need to get our point across as soon as possible and we all got shit to do! Do we not say our Rs? Most of the time. The educated, the sober and those who try to sound human will pronounce their Rs. Do any of us ever say that fucking stupid park the car shit at Harvard?! NO!!! And we really hate it when non-Bostonians say it to us as soon as they hear us speak. This is false. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters heard saying Pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd get stabbed by Whitey Bulger if they ever find him.
“We All Run on Dunkin”
Your sister’s ass runs on Dunkin kid. Haha. I’m kidding. But it probably does. I’m not a coffee drinker. And I would hardly ever eat a doughnut. But the people of Boston need Dunkin’ Donuts. Case in point. Take anybody from Boston out of the city for more than 5 minutes and you’ll immediately hear “I need a coffee. Is there a Dunkins around here?” Or ask anyone of us for directions around Boston and 9 out of 10 times you will get them with a “And you’ll see a Dunkins on your left” or “Turn at the Dunkins” or “If you see Dunkins you went too far”. This is True. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters seen going into a Starbucks that’s right next door to a Dunkin’ Donuts get their tires slashed faster than they would if they stole somebody’s shoveled out parking spot saved with a lawn chair in Eastie in the winter.
“Worst Sports Fans”
No we’re not. We’re at times too loyal, drunken, obsessive ignorant sports fans living in a delusional world where we have the best sports teams and our athletes are gods. But it’s our world and we like it! Besides, name another city that can go pound for pound where all of their major sports teams have done what our teams have done? You can’t! We only have 1 team in each of the 4 major sports. Think about that Cali & NY. And until you’ve been to a game in New York or Philly and have seen their fans in action, you cannot give us the worst fans title. This is false. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters bad mouthing Boston fans have to go to any Boston bar sober and listen to an old-timer drunk off his ass tell you all of his Ted Williams, Larry Bird & Bobby Orr sports stories until he passes out.
“Massholes”
Here’s my Masshole theory: Some out-of-state dickhead years ago got a ticket for speeding on the Pike from a statie and decided to call everybody here Massholes. Which is an obvious play on assholes. So fucking original. Oh you genius you! Then other out of staters embraced it. Then even some people living in Mass embraced it. Which is even worse! Fuck you all. This is stupid as shit. This just doesn’t shit on Boston, it shits on the whole state. I honestly can’t think of any other state that has a stupid derogatory nickname like this. I’m not a Masshole. I’m a grown man who rather say asshole. You asshole. This is not even worth being governed under Boston Law. Next.
“We’re all Irish and named Sully”
South Boston used to be full of Irish. The North End used to be full of Italians. Now both neighborhoods are full of white-collar, young, rich yuppies. There are no longer 100,000 dudes running around the streets of Boston with the last name Sullivan so you have to call them Sully anymore. Shit. I only know like 4 Irish people now. Like Irish on both sides. Challenge me on this. Go find 5 dudes still called Sully because their last name is really Sullivan. And not those poser kids still rocking scully caps, claddagh rings & Celtics jerseys. Because those dudes are mixed mutts just stuck with an Irish last name. That isn’t even Sullivan. This is false. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters under the age of 30 insisting people call them Sully have to watch The Departed, Good Will Hunting, Southie & Boondock Saints on a constant loop for days on end until their eyes bleed and they cry and stop pretending to be Irish.
“Everybody knows Ben, Matt & Mark”
Bullshit. You don’t know any of them. Your cousin didn’t go to the prom with Matt. Your boy didn’t blow lines with Ben in a stall at Whiskey Park. You didn’t appear in that Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch video when you were in the seventh grade. Shut the fuck up. Now Ben, Matt and Mark come here to shoot a movie, go to a Sox/Celtics game and leave town fast. That’s it. Seeing them film a movie at Copley doesn’t mean you know them. This is false. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters claiming to know these dudes get beaten with a sack of apples while being repeatedly asked “Do you like apples?!” and “What’s the matter smartass, you don’t know any fuckin’ Shakespeare?!”
“We Like to Fight”
Yes. This is true. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters wondering if anybody from Boston doesn’t like to fight has to fight somebody from Boston. Sorry.
“Pink Hatters”
What the hell is a pink hatter? During our decade of dominance a lot of Bostonians jumped on our sports teams bandwagons because we went from suckiness to awesomeness. It started with the Pats. Then the Sox. Then the Celtics. And now even the Bruins are a playoff team. Our arenas and stadiums were now full of girls wearing pink Pats hats. Pink Sox hats. Pink Cs hats. They didn’t know shit about the team. They just wanted to be seen because our teams were cool again in their eyes. Then the term “Pink Hatter” started to be thrown at guys who were also jumping on the bandwagon. Even though they don’t actually wear pink hats, they are still pink fucking hatters in real fans eyes. Unfortunately, this is true. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters being a pink hatter gets gagged with Schilling’s bloody suck so they can’t scream while they get repeatedly Tom Brady “tuck ruled” with Ted William’s frozen head to the face by Red Sox Nation President Jerry Remy.
“We all Drink Sam Adams”
No. We don’t. The majority of us will actually drink any other beer first and maybe have a Sam depending on the season. Seriously. Coors. Miller. Amstel. Corona. Even Bud. I can’t name one person that just sits around and gets fucked up on a Sams only preference. This is false. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters insisting that we all drink Sam get said bottle of Sam broken over their head and then get buried alive in that same cemetery next to Sam Adams himself. After a Freedom Trail tour of course.
“All Italians are Connected”
The mob is gone. They’re all dead or locked up. Sure there are still some Italian guys making shady deals in Boston. But hey, a guy’s gotta make a living! But all Italians aren’t connected to the mafia. And your degenerate uncle that is always at Suffolk Downs betting his disability check on the horses and playing the street number is not connected bro. His bookie is a friggin’ 20 year-old psychiatry major at BU for Christ’s sake! This is false. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters saying they are connected get dropped from the Pru onto Boylston St. then get ran over by a Duck Boat parade for shits and giggles.
“We’re All Racist”
This is an old stereotype. Still touchy for some. But I come from an Italian Boston family with Greeks, Irish, Jewish, Portuguese married into it. Brought up in a blue-collar lower class Boston neighborhood full of Italians, Irish, Greeks, Blacks, Hispanics and Asians. Educated through a diverse Boston public school system. Then a private Boston university full of even more people from different countries, religions and sexual orientations. I went on to work for and also with Boston owned businesses that make money and grow their business thanks to the hard work of a variety of different employees and customers. You say Boston is racist? I say you don’t know Boston. You say racism doesn’t exist? I say you’re ignorant. You tell an offensive joke? I’ll tell an even more offensive one. But I guarantee all of my friends and family that were stereotyped in that joke will genuinely laugh along with me. That’s how Boston rolls. This is false. This is now Boston Law. Under the law, posers, people from other Mass cities suffering from Boston envy & out of staters being racist have to watch some painful, horrible, unfunny Dane Cook standup then get banned from Boston for life along with him. By the way, we really apologize to the world for unleashing him. Our bad.
Now we have “Boston Law”! So the next time you think you know Boston, just check out this list of stereotypes first. Because now they’re Boston Law and you don’t want to break the law. The penalty may be too severe for all you non-Bostonians and fakers to take. Cause that’s wicked pissah kiddd!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Top 10 Kid T TV Crushes” Post
Television had a large impact on me growing up. As a kid you feel attached to these characters that you watch week in week out so it’s only natural that a healthy young boy will develop a crush on some young cute girl on tv or even sometimes create an insane made up relationship that only exists in one’s head. What?! That’s somewhat normal. And a local Boston men’s newspaper did an article like this a few years ago when they used to be good. But I think I can do it better because my crushes were awesome! So I present to you, my “Top 10 Kid T TV Crushes”.
Punky Brewster
Punky was the girl of my dreams!!! Cute. Big attitude. She had a dog. A really cool tree house. And she lived the hobo lifestyle. I grew up with her. It was great. Then there was the episode. I remember Punky coming back in September from last season and she looked….different. I couldn’t quite figure it out. And then she said it. “Henry. I got boobs!” I was like whoa!!! I think Henry took a heart attack in that episode. Not sure. Little Punky developed one hell of a rack when I didn’t even know exactly what a rack was and why I liked it so much. I mean I had seen Playboy at that age but those were women! Punky was my age and she brought attention to that part of the female body on chicks my own age. After that episode I stared at every girl in school to see if they were getting boobs and wearing training bras. Thank you Punky.
Evie (Out of this World)
This girl was the first blonde crush in my life. She was cute. She could stop time with her fingers. Her dad was an alien and she could talk to him through a crystal ball type thing. And her mom was the first MILF on television. I don’t know what I liked more. Evie or her superpowers. Either way. I dug this chick. And her mom.
Vickie (Small Wonder)
Vickie was a robot. It was sooo obvious. But there was something appealing to me even as a kid that I could have the ability to tell a chick to do anything and she would do it. And when I got bored I could just turn her off. Which I think I do to some women even today. Oh well.
Christina Applegate (Married With Children)
Kelly Bundy was no kid. She was a woman amongst my kid crushes. She was fully developed and wore the whorest of whorish clothes on the show. My hormones kicked in because of her I think. She eased me into puberty just in time for Baywatch to premiere. God bless you Kelly Bundy.
Penny (Inspector Gadget)
Penny was cute, smart and we both had uncles who used cool gadgets that we helped solve crimes with! We had so much in common so of course I’d be attracted to her. The fact that she was a cartoon didn’t mean shit to me. She was the ideal girlfriend and I have zero regrets over that relationship.
Jo (Facts of Life)
Jo was cute, brunette, a mechanic, rode a motorcycle, got into fights and threatened to punch people. She was almost perfect. And she was definitely bi-sexual. So there was always that chance of having a three-way with her and Blair. Or with her and Tootie. But definitely not with Natalie. No fucking way man. Not Natalie. Not ever.
Nicole Eggert (Charles in Charge)
Nicole Eggert oozed sex appeal on this lame ass show. She was the only reason I watched this show. Fucking Chachi was definitely boning her too and he was like 10 years older than her. Back then that upset me. Today I congratulate him. Nicole Eggert was my first taste of what California girls are really supposed to be like. Then she went on Baywatch and my head exploded.
Alyssa Milano (Who’s the Boss)
Hot, brunette, liked sports and Italian! Hello!!! Alyssa Milano has had such longevity in her career because of guys like me who grew up watching her on tv and praying to meet a girl like her in real life. She was a great tv girlfriend. One of the great ones. She comes along every 10 years. Like fighters. Who’s the Boss, Charmed & some other show that just came on tv and got cancelled a few months ago so she’s all over twitter & YouTube now. Like I said, every 10 years. Still hope to give her the Mario test one day.
All the Saved by the Bell girls
Yes. All 3 of them! Kelly was the smoking hot chick. Lisa was the chick in hot little outfits. And Jesse was the smart chick with a drug a problem. All 3 of them combined for years of Saturday morning wood. Seriously. Combine the hotness of Kelly with the whore outfits of Lisa and smash them together with the brains and speed addiction of Jesse and you had the perfect girl. They brought the hotness every damn Saturday. And then years and years of tv syndication with the show still on tv right now somewhere. Don’t believe me? Go turn on your tv right now. Go ahead. I’ll wait……see? I told you.
DJ (Full House)
DJ was the average cute chick that grew up into a hot chick. Good for her. She had a house full of people who loved her and taught her life lessons. She lived with 60 relatives in that big house. Everybody had their own room and there was a state of the art music studio in the basement. I dreamed that she would be the perfect woman to marry one day. But in real life she married a washed up hockey player. Her brother Michael Seaver from Growing Pains became a Jesus freak. Stephanie became a meth head but with giant boobs. The baby turned into anorexic alien troll like billionaire twins. Uncle Joey banged Alanis Morissette and she made that stupid angry Canadian song about him. Uncle Jesse lost his model slash actress wife to the fat kid from Stand By Me. And Kimmy Gibbler is still ugly as sin. Ran into her in real life LA a few years ago. Holy shit. So I started that “Kimmy Gibbler is Dead” internet rumor. Google it. This show actually spawned a variety of hot messes now that I think about it. Glad I didn’t end up with her after all!
So there it is. My kid tv crushes. Not to be confused with my dirty teenage tv crushes. Or my adult tv that I really shouldn’t have as a grown man but sometimes it’s easier to just fast forward the dvr through all their talking and just turn them off with the remote when they’re annoying the shit out of you crushes.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Kind of Woman” Post
I’ve been asked a few times what kind of woman do I like since I’ve blogged so friggin’ much about the kinds of women that I’ve dated and it didn’t work out. And I’ve also blogged about which ones to avoid. In volume. Aaaaand also about the kinds of women that my friends go out with and are married to and are absolutely miserable because of them but only stay with them to avoid a fight or are just too pussy to break up with these succubi because they don’t know how to walk this world on their own. However, there have been some women I’ve mentioned in posts that I’ve dated and enjoyed, but I guess not enough for some of your liking. Fine. Time for that positive female post! Oh boy. Just for the record I don’t have a type. I have a like. And here’s what T likes. Yes I pulled a third person right there. Now remember this is strictly just for like. Not for sex. Because well sex is different. Here’s how I came up with this rambling thought list. I took all of my past good experiences and mixed them up with what I have yet to find. I’m not sure she even exists but this is how she would be.
She has to be a woman. Not an annoying little girl. Not talking about age, talking attitude, intelligence & emotion. She has to have something to say. Doesn’t have to be profound. Just not stupid. She has to have done something. Not nothing. Anything at all. Big or small. She smells good. Without perfume. She gets me. This is key. This is what makes me want to be nice to her and not treat her like an asshole like I do all the rest. She accepts my past. Maybe she can name a Sox player that was on the team before they won the ’04 World Series. She never wears a damn pink hat. She has a style all her own. Never puts a price on anything. But likes to be spoiled. She’s a lady. She crosses her legs. Covers her mouth. She is single. Emotionally single. Mentally single. Financially single. Can swear when she’s pissed but doesn’t talk like a truck driver. She has an infectious laugh that never gets annoying. She’s the girl next door until we close the bedroom door. She lets me be manly when she needs a man. She texts me and doesn’t get mad when I don’t text back right away! She’s a believer in guys night out. Because she doesn’t bring past trust issues into what we have. She makes me want to bring her around my friends. And they become her friends. She doesn’t think I want to bang her friends. I like that my friends would like to bang her. Her hair is always soft. Maybe a flower in it. She looks just as good sweaty from the gym without makeup and a ponytail as she does in a dress. She’ll bust my balls in a funny playful way not in an insecure hateful way. She thinks I’m the funniest, because shit I am. But I know she’s funnier. Her smile lights up a room. She wants to see what I’m working on. But will let me work on it without the guilt. She knows I work hard for her and everybody I care about. She likes it when I walk on the outside of the sidewalk old school style so the car hits me first. But most likely we’ll both get killed. She believes me when I say I never lie. She can have the remote, I have DVR. As long as an important Boston game, Sons of Anarchy or It’s Always Sunny isn’t on! She doesn’t get suspicious as to why I know certain people; especially the people I grew up with; and even all the hot chicks. She likes not waiting in lines but likes waiting in line with me. She can go out and get drunk but not be that drunk girl. She’s hot enough to dance on the bar but knows she doesn’t have to. She can tailgate in the cold with the guys at a Pats game in January wearing a non-pink, non-Brady jersey. Be nice if she owned a Troy Brown jersey. She doesn’t mind that I go to so many Sox games with the boys but she is definitely Sox/Yankees game date worthy. Will still take one for the team when it’s that time of the month. She really likes movies and always asks what I think about them. Doesn’t go on and on about the small stuff. Isn’t naïve to what goes on in a strip club. Which is nothing but us guys wasting our money and me getting drunk only to come home to her and she looks hotter half asleep in sweatpants with sand in her eyes than any of those strippers did on stage. Doesn’t ask why I’m yelling at the damn TV when my team is losing! Pizza and a bottle of wine on the occasion is just as fun as a table at a new Boston hot spot. She doesn’t have to eat red meat but knows how I like my steak. Tomorrow night I’ll cook. She somehow manages to keep her bathroom poops a secret from me. That’s the only secret she keeps though. She gets that I will always trust her but will never trust any of her guy friends. Not one. Ever. Even the gay guy friend. She doesn’t keep asking if she looks fat; if I think her friends are hot; how many girls I’ve been with; or where I learned to do that. She doesn’t have to know everything about Boston teams but she can’t be a Yankees, Colts, Lakers or Canadiens fan. She doesn’t blame me for what her ex did to her or what her father couldn’t do for her. She knows there isn’t anything we can’t talk about and figure out without fighting. Yeah it might be possible. And finally, sometimes, as busy as I get, she makes me want to put the work away, skip the gym, blow off the boys, reschedule that meeting and turn the phone off….without having to say one damn single word.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “I Don’t Like People in Costumes” Post
Here’s a story I never really told anybody. But I’m sharing it right here on t-blawg. It really sums up why I don’t like or trust people who wear costumes. You see, about 6 years ago I went on a little family trip to Disney World and to make things a little interesting for myself at the happiest place on Earth, I made it my mission to try to bang one of the Disney Princesses. Oh yeah I did. These girls are smoking in person! So every time my nieces wanted a character autograph with a princess I made sure to wait with them and on the down low, see if the princess would break character when I hit on her. Jasmine? Nothing. Ariel? Nope. Pocahontas? Shit. Belle? Nada. Then finally Mulan. All I said was “Gee I wonder where a single good-looking uncle such as myself can find some not-so-Disney fun after hours if you know what I mean?” With a coy half-smile and big wink. She looked at me and through her fake blinding white cult Disney smile told me to meet her at 9:00 at this piano bar on the Epcot boardwalk. Score! I blew off the family Ginger bread bakefest and electric light parade and went to meet Mulan. And to my surprise she was actually there. Belle was there too. Captain Hook was there. And Dale. But no Chip. They were all in their early 20s. Mulan was cool at first. Then out of nowhere she told me about an after party a few miles away where they were all going to blow lines, pop ecstasy and have a fucking Disney orgy! I made up the last part. But if you do the first two things they usually always end with the last. Now if this was a Vegas trip with the boys and these were strippers or some shit I definitely would’ve went. But my sister had booked a 7AM character breakfast and honestly, these Disney freaks kind of weirded me out. My nieces would be devastated if they knew the princesses were really slampigs! I passed. I hate costume people!
I should’ve known better from the time my cousin and I were teenagers at Six Flags and we almost fought all the Warner Brother characters! Seriously. All of them. This is also the same trip where earlier we got our life ban from the Econo Lodge. Heh heh. We were on a roll. We saw Tweety Bird with his handler. Apparently all these freaks have human handlers to guide them. He was greeting kids. My cousin ran up to him and hugged his head from behind. I guess Tweety thought he was going to pull his head off or rape him. I don’t know. But this fucking little yellow bird snapped! He turned around and swung at my cousin. He missed. Then threw his hands up in the “Let’s go motherfucker” motion! This caused my cousin and I to go into Boston teenage punk mode and put our fists up ready to brawl too. The handlers immediately escorted Tweety away to this private character area. Then as this is going down Wiley Coyote swings at this random kid and punches him in the nose. Then Yosmite Sam comes running over to help him jump the kid. My cousin and I rush over ready to beat down some cartoon ass but the handlers escorted them all away and locked the door. We couldn’t believe this shit! I hate costume people!
I also have a complete disdain for any team mascot. Seriously. Like the Red Sox mascot, Wally the Green Monster. Definitely a kiddie diddler. Lucky, the Celtics cart-wheel flipping guy gymnast mascot. Who is clearly a douche the way he tries to super motivate the fans. Get the fuck out my face Lucky. Blades, the Bruins Bear. He’s hiding something under that costume. I just know it. I’m making it my mission to find out what exactly next season. And of course, Pat the Patriot who proved my theory when he got arrested last year in an underage sex sting! I also don’t like magicians and the trickery that they are capable of. I despise magician trickery. Of course I also proved my hatred for Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny in an earlier post when I crank called the shit out of them both and threatened to kill them as a child. I hate costume people!!! Now you know why. I have my reasons and I’m not fucking budging.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Real Men Don’t…Vol. 1” Post
There are a lot of things that douchebags and dudes without a backbone do that are stupid, pathetic and embarrassing that give real men like myself a bad reputation. Here is a list of some of the things real men don’t do. Argue with this list all you want. But real men don’t argue with this list.
Real Men Don’t….
Use LOL, OMG, <3 or ever say “I miss your face”. Haha and 
are ok though.
Collect Facebook Friends to Look Cooler
Cry. Except on 3 Occasions: When His Mom Passes Away, When He Has to Put His Dog Down & When His Favorite Team Wins the Big Game
Need to Lie to get Laid. Ever.
Ever play the “No, You Hang up First” game
Use a Blow dryer or any type of appliance on their hair
Get Jealous
Play video games. Step away from the Modern Warfare fattie. Your Buck Hunter shooting ability is not impressive either bro.
Take Shirtless Photos of Themselves
Dab the Oil Off Pizza
Make Excuses to Not Pay Their Boys Back the Money They Owe Them
Throw Hissy Fits
Watch Dancing With the Stars, American Idol, The Hills or any other Stupid ass Reality Show Alone or With Their Hot Girlfriend
Chase Shots With Anything
Lie to Their Boys About Who They Banged
Wear Sunglasses Inside at Night
Ever call Fondue, Fundue. Actually, we don’t ever eat Fondue.
Stop Drinking After the First Puke. After the Second, It’s OK.
Leave Their Buddies in the Field Ever to Fend Off Chicks (Hot, Drunk or Busted), Dudes Wanting to Fight, The Police or Angry Cab Drivers. If the Angry Girlfriend Shows Up, He’s on His Own.
Dance. We Bump & Grind Depending on the Hotness of the Chick Wanting to Dance. And MC Hammer impressions are ok if you Have the Skills.
Start Fights. We End Them.
Make the Girl Pay for Dinner
Live with Their Parents
Marry the Stripper, the Gym Shake Girl, the Money Hungry in Debt Chick, the Broad That Won’t Let You go out with Your Friends or the Bi-Sexual Weed Freak.
Wear Flip Flops
Go on Diets. We Start New Gym Routines.
Pop Their Collars
Take Longer than 12 Seconds to Order a Meal from the Waiter
Wear Jewelry. We Wear a Watch.
Partake in a Devil’s Triangle (2 dudes, 1 chick)
Clip their phone to their belt
Ever ask for Directions. In fact, remove that GPS.
Have a hairstyle. We have a whatever for 15 bucks.
Ask to have their Meal prepared a certain way
Yell. We talk firmly to get our point across.
Take Longer to get ready than the Girl
Place Bets on their Hometown teams. Don’t jinx them asshole.
Ever hit women. We hit some poor random dude/wall instead.
Know the name of the bag, shoes or dress she’s wearing
Hate on Other Real Men. We Congratulate, Then Step Up Our Own Game.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Birthday Epiphany?” Post
Happy Birthday T
My birthday is in a few days. I will become the number of a famous legendary Boston Celtics basketball player. And am I worried? No. Yes. Ahhh a little. Not so much about the age. You see I’ve never been a person who had to do certain things by a certain age. I’ve always been concerned more about doing enough while I can still do it. Marriage. Kids. Owning a house. 2.5 children. All things I hope to have one day but by no means will I force it and settle like some people out there. Why sacrifice the person you like to become somebody other people think they want? I don’t live for anybody but myself. And why take on the responsibilities of other lives when you’re still figuring out how to be responsible for your own life? Plus I have a list of things I still need to do that I can only do by being the me I am now and not the me that is a husband and a father. Don’t get me wrong. I’d marry the right girl tomorrow if I found her. But that would mean she’d be right enough for me to still be able to do what I’m trying to do all the while the me I am now will have to be right enough for her. Was that confusing? Read it again. I did. But my upcoming birthday and this past year of what I call my “Rollercoaster Year” of ups & downs has me in a state of mind where I was truly humbled and given a vision that I never had before. Which all resulted in the conclusion that….I’m human.
What a fucking realization?! An epiphany maybe? I don’t know. What I do know is I’m now human enough to realize that I am no longer faster than a speeding bullet. No longer more powerful than a locomotive. Wait. That’s Superman. My bad. No “S” on my chest but I have a “T” on my shoulder. For me it only really means a longer hangover recovery time. A slower metabolism. A new kind of gym soreness. Gray hairs popping out. A shorter dumb chick and douchebag tolerance. And an extra hour of sleep at night. Not really too life changing. I can adapt to this new routine. Not a problem. What has been an awakening is that I now have this gift of wisdom that comes with age and experience. You can learn a lot from books and school but living a life the way I have apparently results in an abundance of wisdom that I can bring to many different tables. It’s pretty cool. I can put it into my writing. I can share it at business meetings. I can tell younger dudes what I did when I was in that situation. I’m also pretty good at teaching my nieces & nephew about some awesome life shit. And women now seem to find me attractive on another level beyond my really really ridiculously good looks, income and fantastic sense of humor. This is something you don’t have in your 20s. I may no longer be the invincible beast I once was in my 20s but the knowledge and ability to know better now is one hell of a getting old perk! Plus T in his 20s was a complete asshole. For reals.
So as I enter this birthday, which I might ring in low-key as opposed to my past epic hell raising birthdays where mass destruction has occurred, I enter it knowing I’m a human full of life knowledge. Not bad. The number of this birthday doesn’t scare me. The whole am I doing enough to become the man I would like to become scares me a bit. I’m thinking this thought process is a result of the year I had. So at this point all I want to do is reach my birthday and start a new year fresh. As a humbled guy full of wisdom ready and fucking aching to make his mark on this world. Happy birthday to T.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Antonio Tomasino Manicotti Part Due, Part Due” Post
Italiano, Italiano!
When we last saw my supplementary persona Antonio Tomasino Manicotti, he came to Boston on his gondola hoping to open a chain of his “Famous Finger Rolled Pizza” pizza parlors and he hit the local scene wearing his tight jeans on the prowl to find a wife. Well life had other plans for Antonio Tomasino Manicotti. The economy fell. Antonio Tomasino Manicotti didn’t even get the chance to open his first “Famous Finger Rolled Pizza” pizza parlor let alone an entire chain of them. He found a woman who called herself Lady Gaga in town for some show and thought he found love with her until later when he took her back to his “Molto Bene, Molto Bene” bachelor pad and instead of finding love he found her little pisello. A loud “Ba Fungul, Ba Fungul!” was heard echoing through the city of Boston. Antonio Tomasino Manicotti was devastated.
Where does a poor, heartbroken and traumatized illegal immigrant who speaks broken English at best go to for help? Antonio Tomasino Manicotti splashed on some of his homemade cologne and went to the local unemployment office hoping for some money from the “Pizza Stimulus Package”. To Antonio Tomasino Manicotti’s surprise no such stimulus package existed! Was this great country not as great and promising as he had hoped all this time? He sat on the curb and tried to pull out his photo of his Sicilian donkey family to feel better and his lone lambskin condom fell to the ground. He knew what he had to do. Antonio Tomasino Manicotti would become Antonio Tomasino Manicotti “Male Escorto for Hire”!
With no money to advertise he did what he did best. He preyed on American women drinking in the bars fed up with the typical douchebag American male. Only this time it wasn’t for sex or love. It was for money. He found many women. He made a lot of money. His charm, his good looks, his broken English and tight jeans were just too overwhelming for these women. It also became too overwhelming for Antonio Tomasino Manicotti. He came to America for love! To make pizza! Not for sex. Not for money. He had lost himself. He packed his most important possessions into a single “ATM” monogrammed Versace bed sheet. Tied it up with a Gucci shoestring. Slid a tree branch through it. Turned to Boston and said “Arrivederci. Arriverderci.” And left. Nobody has seen him since. A few months ago there was a report of a man who looked a lot like Antonio Tomasino Manicotti cleaning oily birds in the gulf from the BP oil spill. Some say he was smiling. Jeans still tight. He was heard vowing to return again one day. We shall see.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Crazy Pet Chick” Post
If this is you honey, you're going to die and your cats will eat you one day
I like pets. I really do. Dogs, cats, birds. Whatever. I grew up in a house where my mother had cats. She wasn’t a crazy cat lady but we had two cats. One was an evil bitch. The other was an obese rah-tard. They were cool though. My preference pet is a dog. You read my dog post right? And I think it’s cool when chicks have pets. Really. I dig it baby. What’s not cool is when women become crazy pet chicks and become clueless to the world that now knows they are officially red flagged as bat shit crazy. Seriously. I happen to think that Katy Perry is one of the sexiest chicks around. But I am now totally turned off by her because she named her cat “Kitty Purry” and tweets crazy ass photos of that cat all the damn time. See? That shit turns guys off ladies. You want examples of crazy pet chicks? You ask and I shall deliver!
*Before you all get up in arms, like I said my mother has cats. My sister has had cats & dogs. One of my bullpen ladies has a dog. My cousin’s wife has a dog. All of them are some of my closest people and none of them do any of this crazy shit.
Crazy “I dress up my pet” Chick
Pets are cool. But they ain’t people honey! Stop dressing up that little fucking dog. It’s creepy. Now you’re creepy. It has fur to battle the elements. Are you mentally challenged now? And no that Sox t-shirt isn’t cute. The dog even knows it looks ridiculous. Look at its face! And cats don’t need to wear knitted boots either. WTF?!
Crazy “My pet is my child” Chick
No. Your child would be your child. You don’t walk your kid around on a leash and let him shit on your neighbor’s lawn. You don’t drop your baby off at the groomers to be touched and cleaned by strangers. You don’t help your cat with its fucking homework stupid! This is just frightening when you talk this way and say “I’m a mommy” to this dog that licks its ass out of boredom. Good luck with that shit. You just got facebook blocked.
Crazy “I now have a pet so I’m a vegan now and you should be one too” Chick
Get off your damn high horse. As a matter of fact I will grill up your high horse in front of you! You can own a dog or a cat and still eat burgers. Stop that nonsense. I don’t give a shit how cows and chickens got chopped up and turned into delicious food. Fuck them I’m hungry. Until they are domesticated and able to live in apartments and fetch a tennis ball I’m eating them. We’re not eating your precious Fido or Booboo. Make some sense will you for fuck’s sake?! And if you do decide to become a vegan I’ll respect it but don’t preach your shit to me. Because I will stick chicken mcnuggets in your mouth while you sleep at night to spite you. I love spiting.
Crazy “I take billions of pics of my pet & me cuddling and kissing and show them to everybody” Chick
This isn’t sexy, cute or amusing. It makes me truly believe that you put peanut butter on your vagina and have sex with your pet. There I said it. Everybody is thinking that very same thing too. Don’t deny it. Put the puppy/kitty down and let it go play like a normal pet. Get your freaky ass off the couch and find a constructive hobby. Thank you. Now lose my number.
Crazy “I now have a pet so you won’t ever see me again” Chick
Having a pet doesn’t mean you should disappear. The first few months of owning a puppy I get because you have to train it. A kitten just needs a litter box because it’s stupid. So there really isn’t a need to just fall of the face of the planet when you have a pet. Your friends, family and potential dudes that would bang you all think that’s strange. You’re rushing home to stay in every single night and weekend to do what with it??? Just teach the thing how to fucking text you when you’re out or some shit. It’s not going anywhere. Unless you taught it how to open doors. And the only animal that can figure that out on its own as we all know, is a velociraptor. According to Jurassic Park.
Crazy “Constantly needs to update the world on what my pet is doing” Chick
“Rover just pissed on the piss pad!” “Moopy finally shit in the litter box!” Wow that’s awesome. And I can wipe my own ass. Do you care? No. And we don’t care about your pet’s bathroom abilities either! Nor do we need to see pics of your dog sleeping. Wow. Look at that dog sleeping. I’ve never seen that before. “Here’s Princess Kitty looking out the window.” Holy shit!!! It’s a cat and it’s looking out of the window!!! Who knew they could do that?! I sure didn’t! So glad you posted that pic on facebook because I never would’ve known that! My life is complete now! Pet tip. Just because you think it’s amazing, doesn’t mean the rest of the world does. Jackass. A pet pic here and there is cool. A photo album of 100+ pics daily is downright fucking scary.
Crazy “You don’t have a pet so you wouldn’t understand why I’m like this” Chick
You’re right. I don’t have a pet. But I have two fucking eyes, a brain and some common sense! All that shit combined allows me to see that you are a lonely, crazy chick that is in denial. I’m sorry that some dude fucked you up in the head real good at one time. I really am. But your pet is not a guy supplement. And I’m sure your girlfriends miss you too. So go take a shower. Put on your makeup. Slip on that little “I need to get banged” dress. Be sure to lint brush the fur off first though okay? And then re-enter the single dating life. It’ll be awkward at first. But not as awkward as your life will be if you continue down this crazy pet road. That road ends with you being that smelly lady in the office covered in pet fur that nobody wants to go near only to end up dying alone and then eaten by that precious pet you loved so much so it can only live long enough for somebody to rescue it then has to kill it because nobody wants it. All because you died like an idiot. That is a fact!
So please. For the love of all things normal. Ladies, don’t ever become a crazy pet chick if you ever want to be thought of as dateable again. And your current boyfriend doesn’t get you. Stop lying. He is only going to put up with that shit because he is banging you. Once he finds a more normal chick to bang? PEACE!!! Don’t believe me? Ok. Do you have a pet you’re obsessed about but lost your boyfriend recently and can’t figure out why? Or you’re a woman who just can’t keep a man but can really love a pet? Or can’t find a guy that loves you as much as kitty or puppy does? HA!!! Told you. You’re crazy. Now go get therapy. Thank me later.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Booze for Every Occasion” Post
I'm so money
Guys bond over booze. Plain and simple. Shooting the shit? Booze. Watching the game? Booze. Meeting chicks? Booze. After we fight with each other. No apologizing just booze. Birthdays, holidays, BBQs, graduations, fishing, murders, funerals, weddings….booze, booze, booze! Here’s the proper guy booze etiquette.
Buddy’s 21st
Either buy him a bottle of his favorite hard shit then go party. Or take his ass out and buy him so many drinks he ends up puking until his 22nd. This is Bro Code understood.
Buddy Just Got Dumped
Shots at a strip club. Preferably in Vegas. Throw in a lap dance with a chick that looks like his ex. Except tell him the stripper’s even hotter.
Buddy Got a Promotion/New Job
This calls for some manly shit. Scotch. Whiskey. On ice. Light up a stogie too. After a steak dinner. Compare business cards American Psycho style with everybody you see.
Buddy’s Going to be a Dad for the First Time
Just get him as much of his favorite booze as possible. Homeboy is gonna need it!
Had a Fight with Your Buddy
No formal apology necessary. His favorite shot. Followed by his favorite drink. Then you say “My b. We cool though right?” Of course you are! You’re bros!!!
Buddy Just Got Fired
Follow the “Buddy Just Got Dumped” strip club protocol above. Followed with an offer to fuck up his boss for him. If he accepts your offer, you have to do it stupid.
You and Your Buddy Got Away with a Crime
DO NOT CELEBRATE IN PUBLIC!!! Not at a bar. Not at a strip club. Not anywhere. You don’t want to get drunk and let slip about the guy you just killed. Or about how much you pulled off in that bank robbery. Go home. Split a bottle of Captain. And never speak about it again. Ever. You saw what happens in Good Fellas right?
Haven’t Seen Your Buddy in a While
Beers! Lots of ‘em! Beers and laughs. Beers and laughs!
Buddy Lost Somebody Close to Him
Find out what he wants before the funeral. Go to the liquor store and mix it up in a bottle of Sprite. Hand it to him like it’s booze free. Let him mourn while buzzed. Give him a piece of gum too so relatives won’t think he’s a lush when they kiss him.
Buddy’s Girlfriend Brought a Hot Friend for You
You are now obligated to buy him a bottle of his favorite wine. Two if you bang her. She turns out to be a Stage 5 clinger? He owes you a bottle back. That simple.
Buddy Helped You Move
Just boxes? A six-pack. Boxes and furniture? A night of drinks of whatever he wants. A body? You are now in debt that goes beyond alcohol. He’s a real buddy. Treat him accordingly.
Your Buddy’s Favorite Team wins the Big One
You make sure you both drink everything in sight! They won the friggin’ big one!!! Sick day tomorrow baby! If he’s a buddy whose favorite team is the team you hate, fuck him. Find a new buddy.
Your Buddy’s Bachelor Party
A real bachelor party goes like this. Dinner to please the old fuckers so you can get rid of them and his future in-laws early. Then booze bus. Strip club. Casino. No photos. Ever. There is no alcohol control for your buddy. He will end up drinking everything everybody gives him. Nobody ever talks about the bachelor party once it has ended either. That’s Man Law. Respect it.
Your Buddy’s Divorce is Final
Champagne. Lots of it.
Your Buddy Found Out He Knocked Some Random Slut Up
Shots. Patron. Buka. Shots. Shots. And shots. Strong and often. And plenty of them. He is so fucked.
Like I said. Booze for every occasion. If your buddy is having an occasion, there is booze for it. So now you know. No excuses if you ever have one of the above events going on. Don’t let your buddy down. And don’t let T down. I share these pieces of life knowledge not only because I like talking about myself but because I care. A little. Actually, I just like talking about myself.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “September 11th, 2001” Post
Boston on that day
Some say what I was doing on 9/11/01 will be my generation’s equivalent to my parents’ generation of John F. Kennedy’s assassination. And what Pearl Harbor was to the generation before that.
You remember everything about that day in detail.
I got off the train at Boston’s Arlington St. T stop in Back Bay. I was heading to work. This was my first “real” job out of college. A fancy white-collar job for an asset management company. I walked up the stairs to Boylston St. and looked up at a beautiful sky. The weather was awesome. My city of Boston looked and felt calm for a September Tuesday. I strutted in, said “Good morning” to my security guard buddy Edison and took the elevator up to my cubicle and sat in my chair. A chair I’ve only been sitting in for a few weeks at the time. The job was new. The whole going into the city for a job was new. It was awesome new. I signed onto my computer. Checked some email. Both work and personal. Then immediately went online to check my everyday sites. There was no Facebook or Twitter back then. There wasn’t even MySpace. Or blogs really. I checked Boston.com, ESPN and MSN. A habit. Had to do it before I could really start my day.
I got up to fill my water bottle and say what’s up to the work people I was just getting to know. I could hear my phone ringing. I knew it was my cousin. He called me at every college job I ever had every morning while he was still in college. I went back to my cube and picked it up. “What up?! You get fired yet?” he said. “Not yet.” I said. Then I heard somebody say a plane crashed into the world trade center. I asked my cousin “Did you hear about a plane crashing into the world trade center?” He said “No. It’s probably some dope who crashed his little puddle jumper crop dusting shit plane or something.” “Probably.” I said. I went online and saw “Breaking News” flash across MSN and other sites. They only said that a plane crashed into the world trade center. There wasn’t a flood of Facebook updates. No tweets. And text messages cost most of us 40 cents back then so texts were few and far between. What did happen at that moment was a lot of people at work made phone calls from other cities & companies to a lot of other people at work. Fast. People started talking. You could hear the talk sitting in your cube. “Somebody said it was a passenger plane out of Logan.” I said to my cousin. “What? Let me put on the radio.” He said. “Ok. I’m going to check this out. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
The office started to buzz. The first time I heard “It’s a terrorist attack” came very early that morning. My boss came by and told me everybody was going downstairs to watch the news. Like any financial company, we had dozens of TVs for the latest financial information and stock updates. I got up and went downstairs. Everybody was downstairs. My first reaction to those helicopter shots was thinking it looked like a Michael Bay movie. The panoramic shots of New York City’s skyline. The smoke coming out of the tower. The people gathering. The quick shots to news reporters. The emergency rescue crews pulling up. But this wasn’t a movie. The office phones kept ringing. People were yelling out things like “Terrorists had taken over all our airplanes.”, “It has to be Saddam!”, “They’re evacuating all buildings in Boston. In every city!”. Then the second plane hit. A giant fireball shot out of the building. People were jumping out of the windows. We were watching it happen live. This was one of the realest and scariest things I had ever seen and shared with a bunch of strangers. We all watched as Tower 1 fell. The smoke and debris covered New York City. People around me were crying. More phones were ringing. Cell phones stopped working from all the calls being placed. Then Tower 2 fell.
I did what everybody was doing. I went back to my cube to call the people closest to me. Before I could pick up my phone it rang. “What are you still doing there?! Get out! Boston is being evacuated.” my cousin said. “Really?” I said. My mother called me from work. I called my sister. Friends were calling me. They were panicking because I worked in downtown. In a skyscraper. The building only had 14 floors and I was on the 6th but that was enough for them. And I was only a block from the Prudential Building and the Hancock Tower. Boston’s tallest and most famous buildings. At that time, we all thought the world was ending. No bullshit. The world was ending. We didn’t know what was going to happen next. “The army just shot down a plane over the White House!” somebody screamed. What?! The president of our company went around to everyone and told each of us to go home. I had to take the train home. People were afraid to take the train. I could’ve taken a cab but the young “angry bad ass” in me for some dumb reason said “Take the train and snap somebody’s neck that looks like a terrorist”. Seriously. It was stupid. And pretty much ignorant. But at that time and the days and weeks and months after that day a lot of people started to racial profile. It was sad. But it became common. That’s how the lust for revenge caused the war we would later get into. No direction. Just anger.
I got on the train. People were crying and talking crazy. We were all scared. I got to my car and put the radio on. I just listened. It wasn’t even really real factual news at that time. Just opinions, gossip, anger and fear. Mostly fear. For some reason I drove through East Boston. The city I grew up in. The city where the terrorists got on the planes. There wasn’t a plane in the sky. They were ordered down. It was very eerie not hearing or seeing any airplanes for the first time in my life. I grew up with planes rumbling over my third floor apartment a hundred times a day for almost 21 years. I drove home. I lived downstairs in my sister’s house then. I went upstairs and watched TV with my sister and nieces. We watched as people tried to rescue the fallen. For days and weeks they would try. We would watch. That’s all we could do. My cousin came and got me that night. We just drove around. Quiet. We drove by Revere Beach and saw hundreds of candles on the wall for the fallen. It was quiet everywhere. Everybody and everything was quiet those first few days. No planes. No work. No sports. No stock market. No entertainment. No fun. No hope. Just being with your loved ones and a lot of quiet and loss. It seemed like the world had just stopped. And when it finally started back up again, it had changed.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Legendary Childhood Moments 2” Post
Junior here got nothing on little T. NOTHING!
My first “Legendary Childhood Moments” post was a fan favorite. Of course being as evil as I was you didn’t think that’s all I did, did you?! Oh no. There’s more from where that came from. I present to you a few more of my evil childhood doings. These are some of my epic childhood injuries as well.
Split Eye Open Watching Porn (Age 6)
Like most men my father enjoyed his porn. He had a stack of porn in his closet and we always had a black box stealing cable in the house that provided the porn channel. This wasn’t the Spice channel or Playboy at the time. It was like original cable porn. Classic. We lived in an old apartment that had giant ass metal radiators in every room. I was home alone with my father. He was asleep on the couch. Porn was on the tv. I fell asleep on the edge of my parents bed and woke up and could see it. I had no idea what the fuck was happening on the tv! So I leaned over to get a better look. I slipped off the bed and busted my eye on the radiator. I got up screaming in agonizing pain. Woke my father up. He gave me ice in a rag. My mother came home from Bingo and was shocked as I sat at the kitchen table swelled up and bleeding. She asked me what happened and I said I rolled off the bed while sleeping. But as we all know now, it was because of my porn addiction.
First Fist Fight at School (Age 7)
I got into my share of fist fights in my life. But I took school very serious and tried to stay out of trouble there. Shit I was a good student. But this bully kept fucking with me. I told him not to fuck with me. Everyday. Fucking with me. Until one day before the bell rang as we lined up to file into school and with our mothers watching he fucked with me for the last time. He said some shit about my family and hit me in the back of the head. I dropped my shit then dropped him. I got on top of him and choked him with one hand while pummeling him with the other. Our school principal came running over yelling “Stop it! Stop it! You’re killing him!” Killing him? Relax. I’m 7. It was just a beating. My mother grabbed me off him. He never fucked with me again.
Fell and Damaged My Brain (Age 7)
My mother worked 3 jobs to support us when I was a kid. It was doable during the school year but tough during the Summer. She enrolled me in a Summer day camp program that I had to go to everyday while she worked to stay out of trouble. These cheap Boston day camp programs had older, miserable punk counselors who did a shitty job watching the younger kids. They brought us to this park and let us play. The counselors disappeared and I ran through the park’s water sprinkler. I fell and the back of my head broke my fall from the concrete. They didn’t take me to the hospital. I told my mother. She brought me to the hospital and the doctors checked my head and wanted to do a cat scan. They wanted to inject me with a giant ass needle that would light my brain up first. Five doctors, my mother and my grandfather tried to tie me down to that fucking machine. I broke free and booked it out of the hospital. I was wearing a hospital gown. My mother found me waiting at the car. She gave me my clothes and said “Now we’ll never know if you had brain damage”. I think we all know.
Caught with Porn in Schoolyard (Age eight)
Like I said before, I had an early infatuation with porn. I found my father’s stash of magazines and brought them to school with me. Again before the bell rang, my buddies and I jumped into this giant ditch in the schoolyard as our mothers drank coffee. I busted open a magazine and we oogled 1980’s hairy, natural breasted women. It was amazing. Then I heard “What are you looking at?” It was my mother. It was all our mothers standing above us. Always honest with my mother, I said “Dad’s porn.” She was embarrassed. She grabbed me by my head and we all got beatings from our mothers in front of everybody. Well worth it though.
Rammed Heads Together, Ran Into Brick Wall (Age 9)
My sister and I are really cool now. As kids though? We fought all the time. One time my sister and my cousin were sitting on my grandparents’ front step waiting for us to leave. I saw them sitting there. Like a cartoon, I snuck up behind them and rammed their heads together as hard as I could. Then I jumped over them and ran. I was laughing like a maniac. I looked back but couldn’t see them hoping they were chasing. Then….boom. I woke up and saw my mother driving to my left. My grandfather to my right. I was in the front seat of my mother’s car and we were speeding. I said “I can’t see out of my right eye. What the fuck happened?” My grandfather said “You ran into a wall being fresh.” He held ice to my eye. My mother said “You ruined your new jacket. It’s covered in blood. You’re going to need stitches this time.” She was right. I had to get 7 stitches above my right eye. Left a scar too. I looked and felt like Rocky. It was awesome.
911 Call for Papa (Age 9)
My crank calls are epic. Some just downright stupid though. I really wanted to challenge the whole 911 system. I was at my grandparents house and everybody was in the dining room. I went into the kitchen and dialed 911. I said “My grandfather has passed out. He’s on the floor. You better send somebody fast. If he dies, it’s on you!” My mother walked in. I slammed the phone down. She looked at me and said “What did you do?” I ran by her and said “Nothing.” The operator called right back and my mother answered. She told my mother that a little boy had just called and said his grandfather just passed out. My mother covered for me and said he was sleeping and I was confused. She hung up and yelled at me. She told my grandparents. My grandfather asked “What would you do if the police came?” I said “Make you lay down on the floor and act like you died.” They were pissed but I could hear them laughing as I went into the other room. I miss my grandparents.
Fell Off Stupid Climbing Thing (Age 10)
There was a park near my house growing up. It was a shitty park. Somehow the city finally got funding to put in a new playground. My mother brought me and my buddy there to play. They put in this 15 foot tall giant, wooden block climbing thing. I climbed all the way up to the top and sure enough as soon as I got there my mother said “You’re gonna fall stupid.” And I did. I woke up with my mother and my buddy looking at me. “What the fuck?” I said. “See! You fell. I told you.” my mother said. She made my buddy go home and helped me up. “Can you walk?” she asked me. “Well can you carry me up the hill all the way home?” I said. She said “No. You better walk. You were out for like 10 minutes and I don’t know CPR. I thought you were dead.” What the fuck?! I didn’t die that day. But instead I got to limp all the way home.
Swap & Shop Crank Calls (Age 12)
When I was a kid we didn’t have caller ID or *69. You made crank calls and got away scott free! My cousin and I were inspired by the Jerky Boys and our older cousin told us how they recorded their calls. So we went to RadioShack and spent 5 bucks on the phone tap thing to record our calls. I slept over his house and we were ready to do work. At that time there was a channel on basic cable where you could advertise the things you were selling. It was just text on a screen. It was a description and your phone number. This was pre-internet, pre-ebay, pre-craigslist days. So of course we decided to respond to these ads at almost everyone of our weekend sleepovers and record them from like midnight to 4AM! It was awesome! We perfected our character voices & crank call skills and filled dozens of blank cassette tapes with our finest work! Including the giant bird-cage call. Where we asked a guy about the size of a bird-cage and if it could hold a baby all day while I was at work. To our surprise he said it could. And then there was the guy selling his VHS collection. Where we made him name off all the titles while repeatedly asking if he had any deals on child pornography as well. We also contacted an old man about an apartment he was renting and if it had Mediterranean kitchen cabinets. It was an apartment must for us! And of course there was the local burger joint where we complained about the roach in our burger and how we’re going to kill everybody there. They really wanted to fight after the 15th call. Hours and hours of fun. If I had those tapes today….well I don’t know if I’d be rich from putting them online, but I know I’d laugh my ass off.
So there you have it. Just a little bit more of some of my legendary childhood moments. Or as I am going to start calling them “birth control”. But I’m sure your kids will be angels. Like mine will be one day.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Post
Too many people just don't get it
There are so many things we all do wrong. To people in our lives. To strangers. But most importantly, to ourselves. For some reason we sometimes do things the same way every time and expect to get something different. But we never do. You definitely can learn from your mistakes but first you have to recognize what you’re doing wrong. I came up with a checklist of sorts to help you realize when you’re doing it wrong. So you can avoid shitting on people and avoid shitting on yourself. Carry it with you. I present my “You’re Doing It Wrong!” checklist.
If you’re married and still talking to your ex about everything…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you’re in a relationship and go out to find yourself saying “I just need a blow job from some chick” or “If I only blow him it’s not cheating”…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If your paycheck doesn’t cover your bills…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you blame everybody else for your problems and never find yourself saying “Wow. I really messed that one up.” …YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you run into her/him years later and pickup fighting where you left off…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you’re driving a brand new car but still live at home…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If 3 of your meals this week came from your mom…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you’ve seen your favorite bartender more times in the last 6 months than anyone of your local blood relatives…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you take more interest in the Jersey Shore than your own life…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you care more about Ronnie & Sam’s relationship than anyone of your own relationships…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you only pray when you need something…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you only voted one time for Obama or McCain because your friend did…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If your constant Facebook updates of “Fuck My Life” outweigh the amount of times your updates have read “My Life is Awesome”…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you only go to the gym the day after you ate like a pig or drank like a fish…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you only call your so-called good friend up when you need a favor…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you only see your relatives at weddings & funerals…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If your only response to somebody who disagrees with you is to swing at them…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you never reach for the bill when you all go out…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you only see her/him when it’s dark out and you’re drunk…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you only call her/him because your real she/he isn’t around or answering…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you can’t tell when someone is going above and beyond all the rest to get and keep your attention…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you only go out to get drunk, laid or high instead of socializing…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you think everybody wants to hear you complaining about every stupid thing in your life when they first log on Facebook in the morning…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you’re only getting married because “Hey, she put her time in. Why not?” …YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you think you have a better shot at taking home the stripper/bartender/waitress than the next guy…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If your “game” consists of being a jacked tanned douche or a drunken mess who’s legs are easy to open…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you count favors and hold them over your friends heads…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you never do a friend a favor just because…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you constantly tell everybody how much you make/how much it cost/how much you have…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you only hear the sound of your voice in the majority of the conversations you are involved in…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you think only hooking up counts as dating…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you think you can cut back on the sex/working out/romance/being spontaneous/having as much fun once the relationship gets more serious…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
If you go through life only saying and doing the things you think people expect from you…YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG
So there are some things that the majority of us do or know some people that do. Now you know it’s wrong. No excuses. Recognize and make some changes. That’s all there is to it.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Bro Dress Code” Post
This is Bro Dress Code approved!
Every guy has his own style. Absolutely. That’s how it should be. But there are certain items every man should have in his wardrobe according to age. No excuses. Even if you’re a button up and crisp jeans with shoes guy; or a t-shirt with sneakers guy; or a suited up warrior businessman; or even a gelled up juice head. You should have the following. I don’t care what you do for a living. I don’t care how much or how little you make. These items are a basic must for the “Bro Dress Code”. Which means it’s universal and should be respected! I even threw in some advice on a few items you should toss. Immediately.
After College At Least One Nice Fitted Suit
Regardless of your job. You should have this. If you’re in corporate America, you should have at least 5 suits. One for every day of the week. Stick to the basics at first. Black. Navy Blue. Gray. Thin stripe if you’re daring enough for stripes. Don’t get creative with a suit. Be subtle. Classic. And make sure you have white fitted button ups to wear with them. The collar can’t be too tight or too loose. See a tailor bro or that guy with the measuring tape hanging out at Macy’s who really wants to touch you.
Black & Brown Shoes with Belts to Match
Shiny. Dull. Ties. No ties. Wood bottom. Rubber bottom. Doesn’t matter. Just make sure you keep them clean and the brown shoe shade has a belt that has the same shade to go with them. If you’re a grown man and you don’t own a pair of shoes or your shoes are dirty and beat. Get a girl to go shopping with you. Like now!
A Leather Jacket
You don’t have to be the Fonze. And it can’t be your favorite team leather jacket. Or an old school 8-ball leather. But you have to own a leather jacket. It’s a classic. It’s a closet staple man. It means you have balls and you know how to use them. And you probably like Sons of Anarchy too. Chicks dig Sons of Anarchy.
A Nice Pair of Sneakers; Gym Sneakers; Get Dirty Sneakers
The nice pair is to chill in. Get white. Keep them white. Gym can be any color. Just make sure they’re good enough for at least 5 days at the gym for 6 months. Only use them to work out. Get dirty sneakers aren’t old sneakers that used to be gym or chilling sneakers. No. You buy these to play around in. Sports. Yard work. Painting. Moving. They’re for being a man who has to do manly things.
*Toss:
The Thick Gold Chain-Are you still wearing that?
The Fedora-You’re not Don Draper kid.
Non Prescription Glasses-You’re not Clark Kent or Justin Timberlake.
The Throwback Jersey-You’re not a rapper. Rappers don’t even wear them anymore.
Skinny Jeans-Chicks wear them because they don’t have cock & balls. Men do. You look like a chick when you wear them.
Anything Bedazzled-My nieces bedazzle things. Little girls like shiny things. Are you a little girl bro? No. So get rid off everything that has a shiny dragon choking a rooster on it.
Dress Socks
The only time you should wear white gym socks is when you wear sneakers. Never with shoes man! Never! Have at least 7 pairs of dress socks. And not all just black either. Don’t wear black socks with brown shoes rookie. Get some with patterns and shit to match your clothes. Look like you have some fucking style!
Clean Underwear
Boxers. Briefs. Boxer Briefs. Whatever. Just make sure they’re clean. And never tightie whities. Don’t be that guy who’s sitting on his couch touching himself and picking his ass in his tightie whities. Because that’s what she’s picturing when she sees you in them. One way ticket to Loserville.
A Dress Watch; A Casual Watch
I don’t care if you’re a watch guy and have multiple watches. Just make sure they are decent. Brand name. And work. Never cheap gold. Never blinged out. Never a bootleg. Men don’t roll like that. Just have a decent watch for dress up and another for dress down.
*Toss:
The Bandana-It has no place on a man. Anywhere. Not on your head. Not folded on your wrists. No hanging out of your back pocket. Seriously.
The Extra Tight Boys Small T-Shirt-A lot of guys suffer from ILS. Imaginary Lat Syndrome. Just work out if you want to look bigger you tool.
Scarfs-Not the ones you need in Winter. The gay ones you wear to the club. Really bro?
Rosary necklaces-When was the last time you went to church Jersey Shore reject?
Popped Collars=Getting popped in your mouth. Enough already. You’re like 30.
A Ferrari/Lamborghini/Porsche/Mercedes Key Chain-But you actually drive a Honda. Stop it.
A Good Umbrella
I learned this when I was in sales. Spend the $30 and buy a big, sturdy, manly umbrella. Not a small chick one. Not a free one with your old company’s logo on it either. Get the good umbrella that’s big enough for you and her, you and a client or just you.
A Raincoat
Real men wear raincoats over their suits with the big umbrella. It’s a classy old-fashioned look and says you aren’t a little boy who throws on a windbreaker anymore. Save the North Face for Pats games tailgating there Man Vs Wild guy.
Team Hat
You should have one hat representing your favorite sports teams in all the major sports. They should be the classic team hat. Nothing fancy. Keep it simple. But make sure you have them to represent your team and city well when you’re at the game, at the bar, at home or just running errands.
A Wallet
It’s not for your money. Your money should always be folded in half and in the same pocket on top of the wallet. Your wallet should be small and only be able to hold your license, credit cards, a few business cards and a single well hidden condom. Trust me on this.
*Toss:
The Pinky Ring-You’re not fucking Tony Soprano. You’re not even Italian.
The Pocket Chain-Did you just pull up to the club and valet your skateboard chief?
Money Clip-You’re not Gordon Gekko sir.
Blinged Out Jesus Piece-Unless you’re a priest who dips into the collection plates, stop it. Stop anything blinged out.
Tie With a T-Shirt-You look like a complete asshole.
So these are the basic items that every man should have according to the Bro Dress Code. Regardless. No excuses. Step your game up if you don’t. And congrats to you if you already do. You respect the Bro Dress Code! If you still rock any of the things that should be tossed after reading this, well then, you’re an idiot and you deserve to have bad things happen to you.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “How to Become a Living Legend” Post
Living Legends are awesome. So few of us out there.
I’m in the twilight of my legendary years. It’s true. I’m in a transition phase. Not sure how many epic adventures as a single crazy guy I still have in me. There has been a shift towards more serious things in life. So while I’m not dead yet, I can’t be a legend. So I like to think of myself as a living legend. Alive and able to tell the stories that make me legendary. Now you may say that takes a lot of balls. That’s cocky. I’m delusional. All are true. No argument from me. But if you’ve been a fan of t-blawg you know I live in my own world and I like it there. I’m not here to debate with you whether or not I’m a living legend. I’m here to tell you how you can become a living legend too. Here are the steps in becoming a living legend if you want to stop being so damn lame. Be warned, it is no easy feat to accomplish.
Step 1: Have an Epic Birth
You really can’t control this one. Unless like you stab the doctor on the way out. Me? I didn’t have a choice. I was dying before I was even born. I was born with the umbilical cord around my little baby neck. After it was removed it turned out I was a blue baby. My ass couldn’t breathe. So many tests were done on my blood, heart, lungs. One night I just stopped breathing. The doctors came in and performed a tracheotomy on my little baby throat. They told my mother they couldn’t find out what was wrong with me and I would die. So I flipped my itty bitty baby middle finger and said “Fuck you death!” I started breathing on my own. They kept me in the hospital for 3 more weeks under observation. They had no idea how I recovered. I didn’t come home until I was 6 weeks old. I finally covered up the trach scar with a tattoo which shifted down towards my clavicle over time two years ago for my birthday. Epic…fucking…birth. Owned!!!! Top that you normal, crying out the womb pussy babies.
Step 2: Spit in the Face of Adversity
When I was a little kid I had a boatload of things going against me in life. Shit most kids should never have to deal with. The worst was a lot of people wrote me off at such a young age that it drove me to bust my ass and succeed in life. As much as I’d like to say I’ve achieved success because I like to succeed, it’s really because I like to spite even more. Anger, spite and ambition beats out any amount of adversity. It’s not healthy. You probably will need therapy one day. But you will find a way to win. Legends don’t lose. They win baby! That’s what I keep telling my psychiatrist. And my reflection. Multiple times a day. Excuse me while I take my happy pills bitches.
Step 3: Shock and Awe
People think you are one way. You think you are another. And then you do something entirely out of left field that has people saying “Don’t fuck with T. You know he’ll do something crazy.” My late angry teens and most of my wild illegal twenties had a lot of people saying that about me. I didn’t intentionally try to shock. I just did. It was liberating. Living legends shock themselves because it feels good to go against the grain. Do it. It changed my life and who I used to be. Just be ready to deal with the long-term residual effects. I still have so many people who hate me. Or are afraid of me. Or want to kill me. Oh well. Shit happens.
Step 4: Almost Die
If you survive step 3 that means you almost died. At least once. I can count at least 7 times I should’ve died including my epic birth. Seven! Five I can’t speak about because it could incriminate me and some close buddies. I’ll save them for the “Epic T Movie” one day. The one I can talk about is a New Year’s Eve party at my buddy’s house. His parents would go away every Summer and New Year’s and we would party like animals. One New Year’s I was dared to drink and smoke everything handed to me. And I never back down from a challenge. I started at 7:00PM. I smoked an entire blunt packed with a whole dime bag. None of that cheap shit either. The real chronic. I also drank everything we had in the house. Combined in one big ass glass. Shit was gray and bubbling. SoCo+Vodka+Rum+Bicardi Limon+Hennessy will give you gray bubbling shit. Fact. I also cleared the 3 chamber bong every time I was asked. Which was about 7 times. I didn’t even see the damn ball drop at midnight. I puked my organs out all night into the kitchen bucket. Being the tough guys that we were, none of us could go to the hospital unless we needed stitches. Hello. Bro Code yo! So I made peace with myself as I blacked out looking into the dark bucket. Then I somehow woke up the next day from my coma. I was grateful. Never smoked weed or partied like that ever again. That New Year’s was legendary because I lived to tell the story.
Step 5: Never Waiver
If you don’t stand for something you will fall for anything. Cliché but true. If I gave in or did things the way people told me to, I’d either be dead, in jail or never would’ve accomplished anything. If you’re going to make a choice, going to do something, then go all the way with it and don’t question yourself. Let people doubt. Let them hate. Let them be jealous. Just keep at it. A legend is a legend because he did something at some point that wasn’t easy and will have people talking about it forever. Remember that when you want a life beyond that 9 to 5 working for somebody else who you know you could do better than. Also be prepared to end up alone face down and half dead in a ditch somewhere you don’t even recognize, only to be awoken by little kids poking you with sticks speaking a language you’ve never heard in your life. Small price to pay for eternal awesomeness I say.
Step 6: Have a Story to Tell
I get into shit and love that I lived to talk about it. I can command an audience. So much everyday shit can become an epic story for me. For example, a simple tale about getting a tattoo became legendary. I got my first tattoo with my two closest buddies by an MMA fighter when the UFC wasn’t even legal in the US and tattoos weren’t even legal yet in the state of Mass when I was 19 years old. We each got tatted up. But before I got to get my ink I was put in an arm bar by the tattoo artist. I didn’t tap. He liked that and convinced me that my arm was worthy of his tat. After I got my first ink the three of us went to our favorite local Chinese food restaurant. The owner, a friend of ours, saw my bleeding bandaged tat, slapped it and said “If I ever get a tattoo, I’d get one on my dick”. We all laughed, drank and ate while bleeding. A thousand tattoos, a thousand stories and a thousand years later between the three of us and we’re still close friends and always have that story to tell. A simple story made legendary. Just like that.
Step 7: Become Awesome
If you live through steps 1-6 then that means you have really lived. And by living that way you should now have a story or 2 or 3 to tell and you should also have some stories others tell about you. This means you are a legend. Take that and combine it with the fact that you still have the drive to do more in life, then that means you are a living legend. And living legends are fucking awesome. You know why? Because I said so. I have the credentials to prove it.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Does LA in 3 Paragraphs” Post
LA. I do her often. Then I leave to come back to my wife...Boston.
I’ve decided to start a series of blog posts that capture my travels throughout my life. In 3 paragraphs. I’ll post them every once in a while. Some places I’ve been to a few times, others only once. And some I will probably never go back to because of what went down there.
I present my first “T Does ‘Place’ in 3 Paragraphs” post. Starting with Los Angeles.
As a Boston guy I’m automatically supposed to hate LA because of the Celtics/Fakers…I mean Lakers historic rivalry. Not true. I hate the Lakers. I dig the city. My business brings me to LA a lot and each time it’s an epic adventure. The scene, the people, the vibe. Yes, LA has a vibe. These 3 things are prominent to a single Boston guy out in LA. The sun is always shining. ALWAYS. And there are palm trees everywhere. EVERYWHERE. You walk around with sunglasses on because of the sun and walk into those fucking palm trees because you have them on. Or because you are drunk. Or both. At night the city is just like the movie Collateral. There is a calmness to the LA air at night that I’ve never seen anywhere else on the planet. The sky is still. In Boston you can see the clouds moving at night. There is something always in the air. Not in LA. Except for weed. That’s in the air sometimes.
LA has 2 types of people. The fake and the laid back. I can take both in shifts. Really. The fake look fake. Act fake. Have fake body parts. The laid back are too damn laid back. Act slow. Talk slow. Look slow. That’s why there is always traffic 24/7 in LA. There is no sense of fucking urgency or need like in Boston! It’s annoying. But one thing that both the fake and laid back have in common, whether they are LA transplants or Cali born, are the credentials. You see in Boston everybody wants you to think they are doing something. That they are something more than what their title or pay grade dictate. In LA if you meet a woman who says she is an actress/model odds are she’ll whip out her SAG card or you can find her IMDb page or her Playboy spread in under 30 seconds. In Boston she would just be another hot bartender that posed for lame ass Barstool Sports for free. If you say you surf in LA, you surf. Everyday. Not 4 times a year like the poser dudes we have out here. And while most people drop a load trying to snap a pic with a celebrity in Boston to put on their facebook page, in LA they’ll just walk by the person like it was nothing. Case in point, like the times I met Kimmie Gibler, the oldest brother from Home Improvement, the chick from Smallville, Manny from Scarface and the fat kid from The Sandlot. I thought it was cool as shit that these people were hanging out like normal people but the people I was with treated them like they were assholes. Treating people like assholes made me miss Boston. A lot.
The one thing I really enjoy about LA, besides the prospect of making money in showbiz, is the vibe. Now maybe some Los Angelinos are not as kind to other Los Angelinos sometimes, but being a Boston guy that talks fast with an insane accent and an in your face attitude that most of them have only seen done poorly in movies has always gotten me mad love from LA. ALWAYS! The people in the business seem to enjoy dealing with me. They find me funny. Interesting. And the women have no attitude. NONE! Even the fake ones. At least not to my fine, funny Boston ass. They are just chill and eat up every dropped “R” and fast paced hand gesture! I love Boston women but most of them have a stick up their ass. In LA shit just goes down much easier. Socializing shouldn’t be work. And when I’m in LA everybody wants to talk and have a good time regardless of what bar or club you are hanging out at. People don’t have a certain hotspot. Or type. Everybody just kind of goes with it. In Boston certain people, owners, promoters, wannabe posers tell you what’s hot, where you should be at certain times and places. In LA, you make whatever you want hot. I respect that. I respect LA. It’s a great place to visit. But I love Boston the best.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Boston’s Most Hottest & Kinda Famous Women” Post
Boston's Hottest & Semi-Famous Chicks. Thank me later ladies.
This post is dedicated to the hottest and the most kind of famous women from Boston. Because I know a lot of hot women. Some I dated. Some I hooked up with. Some are friends. Some on facebook. Some on twitter. Some who work at my favorite spots. Some that love me. Some that hate me. I mean Boston has a lot of hot women. Period. But I am not going to put them on blast or blow up their spot or my own spot by naming them here. I’ve gotten enough crap from chicks I know because of this blog. Trust me! But I will name the most semi-famous most hottest Boston women ever. The three components to make this list are the Boston connection; their hotness factor; and what they’re most known for. I included links for proof! Here’s the list.
Maria Menounos
Boston connection: Born & raised in Medford. Went to Emerson College. Reps the Celtics & Patriots all over the place. Plus we sometimes twitter flirt. Well mostly I do.
Hotness: Woman is a Greek Goddess! She is beautiful, funny and talented. And she let Howard Stern tickle her in the tickle chair. Plus she writes movies like a certain Boston blogger.
Known For: Access Hollywood; Maxim pics; Twitter; Going to Celtics games
Eliza Dushku
Boston connection: Born & raised in Watertown. A Celtics fan. Hell she dates Rick Fox!
Hotness: She defines Boston tough girl hot. Has a killer body.
Known For: She was Faith on Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Was in that cheerleader movie; Maxim pics; Twitter; Obviously being a Celtics fan; And I danced next to her one time at Whiskey Park. Be jealous.
Kelly the Ball Girl
Boston connection: From 2002-2005 she was the Ball Girl for the Red Sox. Went to Boston University.
Hotness: This girl distracted you if you had seats along the 3rd base line. She was so damn hot. I used to yell my number to her every time I sat near her. She never called. I should’ve put it on a sign.
Known For: Distracting drunk dudes at Sox games for 3 seasons. So many dudes got hit with foul balls because of her. Well worth the concussion.
Erin Hawksworth
Boston connection: Former Fox 25 news reporter.
Hotness: The Hawk was the hottest, youngest and sexiest reporter ever. She could talk about a bunch of kids and nuns burning to death in a gasoline fire and all you would care about is her cleavage. Seriously.
Known For: Making guys care about the news. Please come back to Boston Erin!!!
Aubrey O’Day
Boston connection: Ok. She’s not really connected to Boston but represents the Red Sox & Celtics and parties in Boston a lot. Hey it’s my damn list.
Hotness: She is hot as hell and out of her mind crazy. Check out her crazy incoherent tweets if you need proof.
Known For: Being in that Puffy all girl band on MTV. Now? I have no idea. She’s hot and crazy! That’s all that matters.
Elizabeth Banks
Boston connection: She’s from some city in Mass. And she played Marky Mark’s girlfriend in that football movie. It wasn’t about the Patriots so I won’t name it.
Hotness: She has that wiseass funny hot thing going on. Boston chicks are known for wiseass funny hotness.
Known For: Besides the Marky Mark movie? Heard she is going to play Tinker Bell in the new Tinker Bell movie. Thank god I have nieces so I can make it seem like I’m only going to see the flick because of them. And she was the hot chick in the 40 Year Old Virgin.
Heidi Watney
Boston connection: NESN reporter for Red Sox games.
Hotness: She warms up Fenway even in October. Usually. Except this season. Nice job pitchers! Now we have to wait until next season.
Known For: Being sexy and giving us Red Sox updates during innings when Don & Jerry want to look at her like the rest of us.
Frances Rivera
Boston connection: Tells us the news on channel 7.
Hotness: She makes you actually want to watch the damn news.
Known For: Being a hot chick newscaster and is always out and about in Boston wearing hot little outfits at fashion shows.
The Monahans:
JC Monahan
Gretta Monahan
Bridget Moynahan-So she spells it with a “Y”! So what.
Boston connection: One is the hottest weather girl in Boston history. Another is a rich, cougar, beauty empire mogul. The other is a hot actress that used to go out with the great Tom Brady. Combined, they are the Monahans.
Hotness: There’s friggin’ 3 of them! That’s hot.
Known For: The weather. Newbury Street stuff. Coyote Ugly. Respectively.
Gisele Budchen
Boston connection: I’m not really a big Gisele fan. Tom Brady and I were once neighbors and I’ve seen her a few times. She’s really not that hot in person. But she was a Victoria’s Secret model and super rich. So she made the list.
Hotness: She whipped Tom Brady. Seriously. I blame her for his Bieber do.
Known For: Never going to Patriots games. Which is weird.
Krista Lackey
Boston connection: Her husband is an overpaid, overrated Red Sox pitcher.
Hotness: She’s so hot that I want to trade her husband back to the Angels and keep her in Boston. Is this possible? Who can make this happen?
Known For: Being a hot baseball player’s wife. That’s it really.
Alexa Flutie
Boston connection: The great Doug Flutie’s hot daughter and a Miss Mass.
Hotness: She’ll make you want to stay in bed for some Flutie Flakes. And I ain’t talking cereal! I don’t even know what that means. Sounded funny.
Known For: She’s known for being Doug Flutie’s hot daughter. Flutie is a Boston legend. Respect.
Kelly Karloff
Boston connection: A Boston model that works for Boston clothing biz Karmaloop.
Hotness: I like to think of her as Boston’s Megan Fox. Except with normal thumbs.
Known For: She’s a damn model. Go look at her pics. I’ve ran into her out and about on the scene before. Surprisingly for a professional Boston hot chick, she was nice. Which happens like almost never.
Ayla Brown
Boston connection: She went to BC. Her dad is our Senator. And he also posed naked in Cosmo. Yep. He makes us proud.
Hotness: She’s tall, athletic and so hot that her dad tried to pimp her out to would be suitors for dates.
Known For: Horrible American Idol. And her controversial Senator dad. Either way, this chick is a keeper. Whichever dude bags her is set for life. She would be a great way to get into politics and start my political career now that I think about it.
So there it is. Boston’s most hottest, kind of famous women. If this list does anything, it is guaranteed to up traffic to all these chicks’ websites, twitter feeds and facebook pages. They better thank me. Call me ladies! Or at least put me on all of your “Boston’s Awesome, Hottest, Most Talented and Funny as Hell” lists! Actually, I should be the only guy on this list. Seriously. If Dane Cook ends up on it, I will be pissed.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Why Guys Hate Stupid Bachelorette Parties” Post
Avoid bachelorette parties! At all costs!!!
Guys hate stupid bachelorette parties. Hate. Despise. And I’m not even talking about the ones our girlfriends and wives go to. I’m talking about the ones with women we don’t even know that storm the night like a bunch of bats out of the depths of hell. Dudes just do their bachelor parties on the down low. We don’t want anybody outside of that inner circle known as the bachelor party knowing about the strippers, prostitutes, hotels, fights, drugs, deaths and gambling. But women want everybody to know that there’s a bachelorette party going on. Everybody! They just go on an annoying, drunken rampage that ruins the night of innocent bystander guys who are just trying to enjoy their night. Here’s what the regular guy out during your stupid bachelorette party sees and why we hate your bachelorette party.
Your stupid gimmicky t-shirts
You go out wearing “Future Mrs. Brent Johnson”; “Bride to Be”; “Buy Me a Shot” on your t-shirt. You think it’s cute. You think you’re funny. NO! You know what us guys see instead? “Brent Johnson Has Decided to Settle With This Chick Because She Threatened to Leave Him Unless He Gave Her a Ring”; “Pain in the Ass For Life to Be”; “I’m Nuts as Shit If I Still Think Guys Will Buy Me a Shot Wearing This Ring and Stupid T-Shirt”.
Your stupid scavenger hunts
No I am not taking a picture with you. I am not signing your shirt. I am not sticking a photo to your veil. We don’t want your buttons. I am not giving you one of my condoms unless I’m wearing it. I am not buying you a shot. I am not partaking in any one of your stupid events!!! You are annoying. Get the hell away from me. You just totally c-blocked the shit out of me and my boys with that group of hot single chicks over there. I hope you are happy!
The whole stupid party is butt ugly
It’s true. 99 out of 100 bachelorette parties are full of disgusting, manly, large-handed dude like chicks that look like they should be the starting defensive line for the Patriots. The one hot chick in the group is either married, miserable or sober. Or all 3. Go ahead. Prove me wrong.
The stupid bride is the only hot one
And she ain’t having sex with nobody. We feel bad for her soon to be dumb ass husband. Because this is where it starts….err stops. I’m talking about the sex here people.
Stupid Moms/Aunts/Grandmoms thinking they’re cool
What’s worse than the busted bridesmaids? They’re busted old ass relatives! I’m a gentleman but please stop trying to rope me in with that feathered boa old lady or I will punch you in your hip! No I don’t want to do a shot with you broad wearing mom jeans with the short lesbian mom helmet haircut! And no I don’t want to be set up with your other single daughter, mother of the bride. There’s a reason she is still single at 40. She looks like she took a face plant off the Tobin Bridge! Leave me alone! I am about to cut you all. Swear to God!
Stupid penis everything
Pins, hats, straws, toys, cakes, buttons, etc. Why would you ever think guys want to be around your penis stuff? Why?! We already have them. And if you love penis so damn much, why do you immediately start to hate it as soon as the priest says “I now pronounce you man and wife”??? Tell me. All us guys are very curious.
Always a stupid extra drunk and whorish one
You’re all usually insanely drunk but there is always that extra saucy one that falls and splits her head open and starts puking and nobody knows if it’s from the alcohol or a result of the concussion but yet she continues to party and ruin everything in sight. She can be found puking and blowing a guy in the bathroom. At the same time. We hate her the most.
Always a stupid extra ugly one
She may be just really really ugly. Or she could be that cousin that your inbred relatives kept in the basement all those years. But for some reason they let her out tonight and she is going to try to rape me or one of my drunk weakened friends. Actually, we hate her the most.
Not only are you all stupid, but you’re all loud as shit
On top of all that other annoying shit, you are all really damn loud. Lots of “Woooos!” And “I’m getting married”! Hey, just know that nobody gives a shit except for you, your elephants friends and the senior citizens in your damn bachelorette party. Now shut up. And go home.
So ladies, just remember this shit when you go out to celebrate your bachelorette party. Take my advice and avoid doing any of this. Maybe talk to your man and do what he’s doing for his bachelor party. Oh wait. He’s not going to tell you. Shit. I’m going to see you out soon aren’t I? Just let me know when and where. Please. No. PLEASE!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Don’t Be a One-Upper” Post
Nobody likes a One-Upper. Nobody.
Nobody likes a One-Upper. What is a One-Upper you say? A One-Upper is somebody who constantly must one-up everybody else they know. At everything. Whether on purpose or without even knowing they are doing it. Everything you do, they say they do better. Everything you have, they have something that’s better. And a One-Upper is a total douche. They come in all forms. There are different types of One-Uppers and here are some prime examples. Be on the look out for them! I bet you know one. Or maybe you are one.
The Work One-Upper
This guy will come up to you at work and tell you about how his job is better than yours. His boss is better than yours. His pay is better than yours. The location of his friggin’ cube is better than yours. But most importantly, he manages to always finish his work early and tells you about it! Oh I’m so glad you finished everything on time and can go drinking now while I’m going to be here until like midnight! What does it matter? We don’t even work in the same department asshole. One-Up the One-Upper: Once he’s left early go do something dirty to every single thing that he touches in his cube. Teach him to one-up you! But without him really knowing! This could go on forever.
The Couple One-Upper
These 2 dopes always go to the best restaurants. Go on the best vacations. Have the best looking kids. Have the best damn house in the history of houses! You know what?! I don’t give a shit about how much you spent on Disney. Let’s one-up each other over Vegas buddy! Why are you telling me this anyways? I’m not a couple. Is it because all your couple friends hate you? One-Up the One-Upper: Say to one of them. “Wow. Things are going great. So I guess you’re not going to go through with that divorce like you were saying you were the other day on Facebook.” Watch what happens.
The Future One-Upper
This prick talks about his upcoming expensive wedding. His large upcoming tax return. His upcoming child that will go to the best schools 10 years from now!!! I don’t care about your wedding and how expensive it is going to be. I’m not even married. I’m not even close to getting married. That’s great that you spent a million dollars on the hall and paid to bring DJ AM back to life to spin records for your guests. You’re buying a boat with your tax return? Awesome. I have to give blood because I owe the government that much in taxes this year you dick. One-Up the One-Upper: Tell him “I hope everything turns out as awesome for me when I reach that point in my life. Everything except for the part where my wife slept with all the ushers without me knowing about it that is. Oh you didn’t know? My bad.”
The Gym One-Upper
This person will look at you and flex. They will tell you constantly about what you’re doing wrong. They will insist on improving your technique. They will see what you’re lifting and then try to lift more even if it kills them. This fucker will hop on the treadmill next to you and increase the speed to more than what you’re doing every time you increase your speed! And you don’t even know them!!! You know who I’m talking about! Every gym has one. They’re like your gym arch-enemy. One-Up the One-Upper: Break into his locker and just switch his steroids with heroin. All that muscle mass will peel off in weeks. If it’s a chick just tell her that the cardio isn’t working on her ass or love handles. That’s enough to make her commit suicide.
The Drinker One-Upper
This prick is the guy that orders the most expensive scotch while the rest of you are all just drinking $2 drafts and watching the game. Really dude? Did you just have the waitress open that for you? You all order 10 cent wings, he orders the fucking filet. Because he can. And then he’ll tell you about how great that scotch and steak are. While telling you he has like 5 grand bet on the game. Against the team you’re fucking cheering for!!! One-Up the One-Upper: If you know he’s coming ahead of time, throw in with all your boys and give your waitress some cash to poison him. Not enough to kill him, but enough so he gets sick enough to never want to come back to that place again.
The Who I Banged One-Upper
Every single chick this guy banged is hotter than the ones you banged. You’re telling your buddies about some chick you nailed last night and he will tell you about a hotter one he nailed like 5 years ago. You did a chick and her roommate. He did triplet Playboy models. Dude, you’re married now. All your stats are now null and void. But that doesn’t matter. This ass clown’s glory day bangs will always be better than yours in his eyes. One-Up the One-Upper: Just stick your fingers in his face and say “Smell familiar? It’s your wife.” Crude but very effective.
The Unintentional One-Upper
This person means well. They aren’t intentionally trying to one-up you. They just do it naturally. It’s probably a close friend or a family member. So you have to handle them with care. Try telling them about their One-Upping douchery. If it doesn’t go well they leave you with no choice but to resort to some low ball hijinks. One-Up the One-Upper: In this case you must embarrass them in front of people. Make sure all your conversations now take place in public. Around lots of people. Preferably strangers. At the first sign of one-uppery say “I warned you. You leave me no choice.” Then start yelling as loud as you can at the top of your lungs “THIS GUY/GIRL IS A KIDDIE DIDDLER! HE/SHE DIDDLES LITTLE KIDS! LITTLE KID DIDDLER HERE!!! DIDDLER!!!! DIDDLE DIDDLE DIDDLE! DIDDLE DIDDLE DIDDLE! DIDDLE DIDDLE DIDDLE!” They will be so traumatized after the public beating and possible arrest that they will never unintentionally one-up you again. Hell they might not even talk to you again. Win-win baby.
The Everything One-Upper
You have no hope here. Every single thing you say or do, he/she will one up you. They are that fucking insane. And annoying. One-Up the One-Upper: Cut them.
These are just a few One-Uppers. Avoid them! But if you can’t now you have a way to One-Up the One-Upper. If you are a One-Upper you better change your ways fast because some real messed up shit is coming your way thanks to this blog post.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Does VEGAS in 3 Paragraphs” Post
All Vegas trips should be a blur
*I’ve decided to do a series of blog posts that capture my travels throughout my life. In 3 paragraphs. I’ll post them every once in a while. Some places I’ve been to a few times, others only once. And some I will probably never go back to because of what went down there.
I’m making something clear right here. There are 3 different Las Vegas worlds. There’s the Vegas depicted in movies. There’s the Vegas where couples vacation. And then there’s the Vegas where guys go to party. Sin City. Hell on Earth. Anything goes, for a price. That’s the Vegas I know. But first I’d like to thank Hollywood for glamorizing the place. And I’d also like to thank every guy who has taken their girlfriend to Vegas for a show, a nice dinner, a little pool time, a photogenic trip to the wax museum, some corny couple gambling and a little tipsy Vegas hotel sex. Awww, so romantic! Right? Did I hit it on the head there or what?! You guys just took one for the team. And I applaud you! Because now when you take your boys trip she’ll think Vegas is one way and we all know it’s another way entirely. And trust me ladies, our guys trips to Vegas make that photo montage at the end of The Hangover look like fucking church. But you will never know about it. Because I respect the Bro Code and never take pictures in Vegas. Oh no. So I might be a little vague with some of the things I say in this post as I have to leave out some incriminating stories to avoid many angry texts and phone calls from my boys. Again. Bro Code. Respect.
I think I’ve been to Vegas more than any other vacation destination. Each time has been a guys trip. Even did a bachelor party there. Oh fuck. Yeah. That time. Let’s just say now I will never have my bachelor party there when I finally get married. When I’m 70. Each trip I’ve met some great women there. It’s true surprisingly. I met a hot latina that still stays in touch. A stripper that looked like a young, skinny, dark-haired Jessica Simpson. And an Angelina Jolie clone at the Hard Rock where we did shots with Mr. Seaver from Growing Pains and his then non-famous son Robin Thicke. I’ve also partied with Ghostface Killa from the Wu-Tang Clan and a bunch of his video hos while wearing his spinning Wu medallion at Ghost Bar. Classic Ghostface! One time I was so drunk I tried to throw my shot into the air at Rain as those flames that drop down above your head to start a fire. Just because. And then there was that time I won thousands of dollars playing blackjack and was treated like Mr. Papagiorgio everywhere I went. Good times. I was tipping people like Jim Carrey in Dumb & Dumber. I was so young. And stupid. And drunk. I definitely paid for some stripper’s kid’s first year in college. Ok maybe a community college. But still. Vegas is also the birthplace of Nasty T. My most evil persona. But I can’t say why here. Sorry. One trip to Vegas I golfed for the first time in 120 degree desert heat. Hungover. “Oh it’s a dry heat though.” All that shit means is instead of sweating it out your ass bakes to death on the inside. Every Vegas trip also includes me saying to total strangers “You know what Wesley says right? Always bet on black. Passenger 57 bitches!” every time I hit the roulette table. But nothing is better than when we first go to the blackjack table as a group and I pull my Austin Powers and introduce myself as Richie Cunningham and my bro-in-law as my wife Oprah. Followed by a classic “I’ll stay. I too like to live dangerously.” after the dealer deals me a 5. Ah Vegas.
In between the gambling, clubbing, celebrities, strippers and recovery by the pool time, there’s a lot of other shit that goes down. Like drinking red bull & vodka until it replaces all of the blood in your body. Fucking place has no clocks and if you do that Thursday through Sunday guys trip, you’re running on that shit after the initial adrenaline rush and testosterone subsides after getting zero sleep! And then there’s steak & eggs. In Vegas no matter where you are, no matter what time it is, you can always get some steak & eggs. Swear to God. On a guys trip there aren’t many fancy dinners. We’ll probably do one nice dinner as a group maybe on the first night. After that we all end up on different eating, sleeping, banging and shitting schedules. Seriously. At that point you eat whenever, wherever, to feed the machine so you can bust through the wall and rally for more hard living. It’s crazy. I’ve done more damage to my body on those 4 day Vegas runs that I’ll never be able to repair. Ever. Because that’s what you do in Vegas. That’s what I do in Vegas. I enjoy Vegas because of what I can do there that I can’t do anywhere else on the planet. It’s legal! But I love Boston the best.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Why t-blawg Will Never Be ‘Freshly Pressed’” Post
Yeah. You probably won't find a t-blawg post here.
Am I offensive??? YES. Am I brutally honest? Yes. But that’s why you read this blog. I don’t purposely try to shock. It’s just how I roll. Honesty, humor and in yo’ face with some shit. That’s it. That’s t-blawg. What am I babbling on about? I’ll tell you my loyal t-blawgians. WordPress is my blog publisher and WordPress has this feature called “Freshly Pressed”. Every single day they pretty much go around and pick and feature blog posts from bloggers on their homepage that they like. That the general public would like according to them. They have to be generic. They have to be nice. They have to have interaction from other down the middle bloggers. Basically, they have to be average. Well, as a reader of t-blawg you know that this blog is anything but average. Therefore I have come to the conclusion that it will never be “Freshly Pressed”. And you know what? I’m cool with that. I’ve said before that I write this blog to share my stories and opinions to entertain. To make you laugh, think and feel. So this blog is far from generic. Far from “Freshly Pressed”.
Is a t-blawg post even capable of being “Freshly Pressed”? I don’t know. I mean picture my “I Respect The Bro Code and You Should Too” post being featured up there next to blog posts such as these recently “Freshly Pressed” posts: “Pumpkin luminaries”; “Being a ‘Gleek’”; “Why I’m Anti-iPhone Because They are Anti-Google Voice”; and “The Joy of Baking Bacon and Cheese Biscuits”. Are you fucking serious?! Can you get anymore “run-of-the-fucking-mill” than this bullshit? I’m not knocking the bloggers for writing stuff like this because that is 99% of the blogs out there. It’s why they started blogging. To voice their opinion about things. To find an audience that can relate. Sure they’re not trying to be boring but they figure they have to be to get a following. Play it safe. To get “Freshly Pressed”. Not me. Not T. Not now. Not ever. Instead, I’m knocking WordPress for featuring shit like this. For taking the easy road. Nobody in history that has become something has ever taken the easy road. Generic=Cautious. Cautious=Lame. Innovation=Awesomeness. Awesomeness=T. You will find me in the latter obviously blazing trails and writing fucking fire every damn Monday!!!
Whether this stance means never being “Freshly Pressed” and not reaching a larger audience because of it, well then so be it. I’m no sellout. The people who read this blog read it because I’m everything opposite of those featured in “Freshly Pressed”. And there are now a lot of people reading this blog. A LOT. I can proudly say t-blawg is opposite of every damn blog out there. Because t-blawg is the anti-blog. The People’s Blog. I dare you to find another one like this. You won’t. Because there is only one me. And I like it that way. Go through my archive of blog posts. I can guaran-damn-T (pun intended) that you will find at least 1 post that made you laugh your ass off at work. At least 1 post that you tweeted. At least 1 post that you posted on facebook for your friends to see. At least 1 post that you emailed the link out to. At least 1 post that pissed you the fuck off. At least 1 post that made you subscribe. At least 1 post that made you comment. At least 1 post that made you say to yourself “Wow. He’s nuts but so right on with this one.” And that’s enough for me. So I say to you WordPress….You can freshly press this. And yes, I am pointing to my crotch right now in case you were wondering. t-blawg yo. And don’t ever forget it.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “What Your Tattoo Says About You” Post
If you have a tattoo and look like this, I will date you. No really.
I’m a tattoo guy. I have a few to say the least. I dig them. They’re cool. They start-up conversations. They invoke an odd sense of respect. Sometimes fear. And I dig chicks with tats. So hot. I mean a real turn on for me. Seriously. My first tat was a tribal design on my shoulder…yeah I know but it was many moons ago. I don’t regret it. I never covered it up because it’s a reminder of where I was and who I was when I got it. I have since gone on to get many more. After my first, I’ve either designed my other ones or had a lot of creative input on them. Each piece means something to me. Tattoos should mean something. And so many people just get them for the sake of getting them. That’s stupid. They really don’t mean anything to the person but they sure as hell say something about the person who got them. Here’s what your tattoo says to the world.
The tramp stamp (tribal design; flowers; hearts; etc.) tat says:
“I’m easy. Or I got this at a time when I was easy. Don’t judge me.”
The shoulder tat (college frat symbol; military status; etc.) says:
“I might’ve been in a fraternity bro or even the military and want you to think I’m tough.”
The ankle tat (butterfly; flowers; hearts; etc.) says:
“I’m girly but yet bad ass. I wear heels because I’m a chick. And they show off my tat because I’m also a little dirty.”
A rib cage tat (mostly large writing) says:
“Megan Fox has one and she’s hot. So I got one but it only let’s people know I’m a big tease and this is where dick teases get their tats.”
A pelvis tat (butterfly; flowers; sun; moon; etc.) says:
“I just might be a slampig. Still undecided. If over 40 dudes have seen this tat, then yep, I’m a slampig. But I lost count. So.”
An upper chest tat (A mix of words, people, locations, designs usually) says:
“I wasn’t in a Mexican gang or prison but now I look like I was.”
The abs tat (Your favorite saying; favorite city; etc.) says:
“It worked for Tupac but I guess I have to cut back on the carbs first so people really get the idea that I live Thug Life.”
The Chinese characters tat (You know what they look like!) says:
“Neither I nor my tattoo artist actually know what this means. I am a fucking tool.”
The Italian flag/colors tat says:
“I’m a guido poser douche that’s on the juice and I have a small penis. And I tan a lot. What…Up.”
The Irish shamrock/Notre Dame leprechaun tat says:
“I’m an alcoholic who wants you to think I like to fight but if you hit me I’m crying like a little school girl as I run away from you.”
The religious tat (crosses; rosary beads; Jesus himself; star of David; etc.) says:
“My religion is the right one and this will keep me from eternal damnation after I die right? RIGHT???”
A neck tat (initials; lips; random little stupid shit; etc.) says:
“I will never have a real high paying job and will never amount to anything. Now excuse me while I go play Xbox. After I cash this welfare check real quick.”
Roman Numeral tats say:
“Shit looked cool though on the Rocky movie titles!”
The arm band tat (tribal; barbed wire; etc.) says:
“Biggest regret of my life.”
The sleeve tat (bunch of tats; skulls; bones; coy fish; random stupid shit; gray wash smoke; etc.) says:
“Please look at me. I need attention. My mother didn’t hold me enough. I’m peacocking. Please. Look!”
An inside the lip tat (Fuck you; Bite Me; Awesome; etc.) says:
“I was a fucking idiot when I got it. And I’m still a fucking idiot. I know.”
A face tat (anything tatted on your face) says:
“Mike Tyson and Lil’ Wayne did it. But yeah. It doesn’t have the same effect for me now does it?”
Somebody’s name tat (your own name; some chick’s name; your kid’s name; your mom’s name; your dead buddy’s name; etc.) says:
“I’m bad with names. And it worked for that guy in Memento. Shut up. Leave me alone. What’s your name again? Hold on. Let me look at my left shin real quick.”
The back mural (religious pieces; battle scenes; dragons; almost everything and anything smooshed together; etc.) says:
“I just let the tattoo guy do whatever. I can’t see it. It looks that bad? Yeah I’ll be saving up for laser removal starting with my next paycheck.”
The Nothing (no tats at all) says:
There’s something messed up about you. You’re hiding some deep dark shit. I actually trust people with tats more than people without them. Seriously. This day and age and you don’t have at least one??? Really?! Weirdo. Loosen up there chief. I’m checking your fridge for severed heads right now.
Now you know what your tattoos say to the world. They really do. As long as you think your tattoos are cool, so what. Just know everybody is still making fun of you as soon as you leave the room. Wait. I wonder who is making fun of me and my tattoos right now??? D’oh. Sons of bitches.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “The 52 Things That Made t-blawg” Post
The man who changed blogging forever
This is my 52nd blog post. That’s right. The world has been graced with 1 year of t-blawg! 52 straight Mondays of awesomeness. 52 weeks of blog posts that gave the world my stories, my opinions, my attitude, my advice, my life. And the world has been forever changed. This blog is growing and becoming quite popular. Who knew?! Me! That’s who!!! To celebrate Year One of t-blawg I decided to list the 52 things that made t-blawg semi-famous. Made it loved. Made it hated. Made it entertaining. Bottom line, these 52 things made t-blawg what it is. And there’s nothing else like it.
Festivus. It allowed me to yell at people who failed me throughout the year during the holidays while sucking the merry out of so many people. Get ready for “Festivus 2”. The sequel arrives in 2 weeks!
My 2009 Facebook updates. For some reason people keep going to this post. It was a great year for me. So thanks I guess?
Antonio Tomasino Manicotti and his way with love & pizza.
Every guy that was “That Guy”. Thanks for douching it up so I know what not to be.
All my game dates. Most of you were game date worthy. Except you damn pink hatters.
The MIRACLES system. It works people!
My stance on Valentines Day . It hasn’t changed.
I still don’t have kids. Not that I know of! ZING!!! Still never gets old.
The “Logic vs Feelings” battle that was born because I don’t have kids. We lost a lot of good men in that war.
Still don’t have a dog of my own . Still borrowing dogs to pull hot chicks. Word yo.
Living by the Bro Code has inspired other men to live by it as well. So proud of this post I could cry. But real men don’t cry.
I have heard so many more shitty bands play and have yet to hear a good “non-professional” band play. I’m not budging on this. Suck it.
Still speaking my own language on the occasion. Still making up my own names for things. It’s fun.
My “Legendary Childhood Moments” stories, part 1 and part 2, are now being shared in abstinence classes across the country.
Looking forward to another decade of Boston sports dominance so I can have more epic game moments. It’s the Bruins turn baby!!!
The scene is still exactly the same. EXACTLY the same.
A special thanks to the lovely ladies in my bullpen. Good looks yo. More men are stacking a bullpen. Thank me now.
No thanks or love to all you women I avoid. In volume.
I still hate you Justin Bieber.
Why are so many assholes still wearing too many team pieces and painting themselves at games??? Go re-read the “Game Gear Rules” post please!
Unfortunately, some women in my life turned out to be “That Chick”. You live, you learn, you run as fast as you fucking can away from them!
My “Boston Law” rules, declarations and penalties are being presented to Congress as you read this. Can’t wait to go to like Delaware and hear people talking like me there. Awesome.
Still keeping Winnie Cooper off of my “Top TV Kid Crushes”. Go make your own damn list. She was meh at best.
How come “My Kind of Woman” was one of my most viewed posts by so many women but yet I still haven’t found her? Maybe I should become more realistic? Compromise? Hmmm. This was my second realest post. Seriously.
People who go to jobs that require them to wear costumes are all still kiddie diddlers in my eyes. All of them.
Realized that I might be the only “Real Man” that doesn’t do any of that shit on that list. King of Kings??? I think so!
My birthday epiphany came and went. That’s what she said.
At least one ex-“Crazy Pet Chick” threatened my life. She said her cat told her to do it. Psychooooo.
If you followed any of those “Booze For Every Occasion” protocols, you’re even more fucking nuts than I am. You lush. I applaud you.
I know the 9/11 post was really different from what you usually get on t-blawg. But that was the realest post you got from me. No regrets.
Why the fuck are so many people still “DOING IT WRONG”?! Do I see another volume to this post coming in t-blawg Year 2? You bet your ass.
Glad to see some dudes saying that they now follow the “Bro Dress Code”. Not so glad that I have to go out and still see so many assholes not following it.
Really cool that so many people are also living like “Living Legends” out there in the world. Keep striving to rock the shit out of your life and the lives of everybody you know! Have even more stories to tell!
My stance on LA was accurate. T don’t do apologies.
“Boston’s Hottest & Kinda Famous Women” was my biggest post. It brought attention and even celebrity followers to t-blawg. That was unreal.
Had no idea so many women felt the same way about bachelorette parties. Now let’s see if they talk the talk and don’t walk the walk so my night doesn’t get ruined.
Still waiting for all those haters to “One-Up” this blog. You can do this? So do it already. Big up to all my haters! Hahaha.
That was….is…and will always be my Vegas. End of story. Don’t blame me. I didn’t build the place. I just enjoy it.
You think WordPress will “Freshly Press” a t-blawg post in year 2??? No? Me neither. Expect that “Joy of Baking Then Eating Red Velvet Cupcakes” post soon. Yeah right. Say hi to your mother for me WordPress.
I didn’t judge you or your tattoos. Damn. Ok. I did.
Well that was more like 40 things. So here are the special people/things that are a part of the 52 things that made t-blawg awesome as well:
My friends/family/my boys/the lovely ladies all from my city of Boston!
These special ladies for reading, tweeting and following: Eliza Dushku/Maria Menounos/Kelly Barons/Ayla Brown/Erin Hawksworth/Arianny Celeste
These cool dudes for reading, tweeting and following: Michael Chiklis/Mayor Menino/Governor Patrick/Jerry Remy
Playboy & NESN. Hot chicks & Boston sports respectively.
Condoms. No really.
These 3 special ladies: That passionate VA actress chick living in LA that loves t-blawg. Next time we’re hanging out! That blogger chick that loves dating, zombies and t-blawg. That LA chick no longer on her year-long mission who needs a real man like T! Come to Boston!
My teams: Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics & Bruins.
Every bar that has ever served me alcohol.
Special shout out to Boston.com, MTV, Miller Lite, that hack Boston men’s magazine with pretend models and keeps putting out those recycled, typo filled shit articles and all those other wannabe “edgy” bloggers/writers for ripping off my shit this past year. How about giving me credit from now on? Thanks.
The women that have come and gone but will live forever on these pages but will forever be nameless. Thank you to some and fuck you to the rest. Haha.
My mother for not killing her evil son. Thanks Ma. Glad you didn’t shit when I showed this blog to you.
And all of you! The readers/Fellow bloggers/The people who comment/The people who subscribe/The Twitter followers/The Facebook fans. You guys make this blog too because you read the shit I write.
So there you have it. The 52 things that made t-blawg. Year 1 was awesome. Year 2 will be even better. You keep coming back and I’ll keep writing. I’m treating this blog like a TV series. I have an ending in mind. If it works out that way.
In year 1, I took it there. In year 2, I’ll fucking take it even further.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Office Holiday Party Protocol” Post
Don't be this guy
It’s that time of the year. Office holiday party time! Where careers can be made or broken. Where you can become a superstar or a never was. I’ve been to a few office holiday parties in my life. From a young stupid rookie. To a seasoned vet. I did it all. It’s been a few years since my last one though. I have one this week so I figured I would freshen up on the proper protocol. And believe me, there is a protocol. You don’t want to be that drunken idiot douche or slut that commits career suicide. Not in this economy! So if you’re one of the lucky ones to actually have an office holiday party this year, pay attention.
The Office Holiday Party Protocol is broken into 5 sections with a total of 10 rules. They are as follows:
A. Drinking:
-Do not get smashed dummy
If you go to your office party just to get smashed, you are a fucking idiot. You are now the office clown and you will never be taken seriously. Do not get smashed.
-Drink with the boss
Have a drink with your boss. Do not accept the drink tickets that he or she will offer to pay with. Use your own cash. Show that you have class. Chat up your boss. Only about things that are not work related. But don’t kiss ass. Leave that to somebody else. Have your drink. Toast to the year. Then go about the rest of the party. Trust me.
-Don’t be a rookie and abuse drink tickets
A lot of holiday parties give you like 2 drink tickets. That should be the max amount of drinking you do whether you pay or get them for free. Let the office slut or drunk abuse the system. You should standby and watch them self destruct.
B. Dress Code:
-Bro Dress Code always in effect
Always look your best. Always. The office holiday party is no exception. If it’s right after work. Keep the suit on drop the tie. If it’s on the weekend. Put the suit on. Act and dress accordingly. Two pay grades above your salary always. Stand near the clowns wearing the blue button ups and khakis every now and then just to look even cooler around the higher-ups and office hotties.
-No stupid holiday sweaters ever
Wear an ugly holiday sweater? Get punched in the face!
-Leave the Santa hat for low-level mailroom clerks and interns
Come on bro! You serious?! What are you? 7 years old?! Don’t be that guy. Even if an office hottie with massive cleavage and a mistletoe attached to her head tries to put one on you, say “Thank you. I’ll pass. You however look great. Definitely come find me later. We’ll have a drink for sure.” Smooth. You look good. You stay looking good. And you set something up for later.
C. Sex:
-Never! Except for 2 clauses.
1. Only with somebody on another floor that never works with you or your department.
2. Or with a person who is working the party (waitress, bartender, caterer, etc.).
But never with a co-worker or with a boss in your department! Don’t do it. If you stay with the 2 drink max, you won’t be stupid enough to do it. When you come in the first work day after the party, everybody will already know what you did. Even the people who sign your checks. You’re now the office idiot. If you are really that horny just go with the non-department option or with a person working the party. I did both. Once with a married chick in HR who I gave a ride home. Then another kind of ride. ZING! She fell in love. Wanted to leave her husband and shit. WTF?! Hey I was 24. And one time I got so smashed and woke up next to the hottie bartender that worked the party. I snuck out before she woke up. She wasn’t so hottie in the AM. Took me hours to find my damn car too. Did the walk of shame to work. I wouldn’t do either today. But glad I got it out of my system.
D. Socializing:
-Branch out
Don’t just talk to the same people you work with everyday! Come on. Talk to people you never talk to. After you talk to the boss of course. Interact. Grow your network. Make the rounds. Get names. But more importantly, make sure people get your name!
E. Timing:
-Two hours max then bounce
Never linger. Never over stay. Just smile. Have your 2 drinks. Talk to your boss. Talk to your coworkers. Meet a hottie or 2. Or 3. Then get the hell out of there. Make it seem like you have places to be. You are important. No need to be there that long. You see these people like 45-50 hours a week. Enough is enough!
-Bonus
Bonus is part of timing. If you’re lucky to get one in this day and age. This is the only thing that should keep you at the party any longer than necessary. Wait until the details of it are mentioned or if is actually going to be given out at the party. If you wait only to find out nobody’s getting one or if you’re all only getting fruitcakes, punch your boss in the face then bang the office slut right there in front of everybody. Fuck it. Tell them T said to do it.
So that’s the Office Holiday Party Protocol. You now know what to do and what not to do. Thank me later. Just don’t give me a piece of your fruitcake. Because I will punch you.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Festivus 2” Post
My favorite holiday! So much disappointment this year.
Festivus. My favorite holiday of them all! It was created by the father of a writer on “Seinfeld” and made popular on the show years ago and I along with hundreds of other people (“Seinfeld” fans, Wikipedia users) have been celebrating it ever since. It happens on December 23. Two days before Christmas. It’s tagline is “Festivus for the rest of us.” It’s purpose is to have a holiday for the people who refuse to get caught up in the insanity of the other holidays during this time of the year. And it’s traditions are unmatched.
What are the traditions of Festivus? Well there is the “Festivus Pole” instead of a tree. A plain pole without any decoration. There are the “Feats of Strength” where the party isn’t over until the head of the household is pinned to the ground. There are “Festivus Miracles”. Like Arianny Celeste lying under my “Festivus Pole” wearing nothing but high heels when I wake up Festivus morning. And then there is my favorite tradition of them all. The “Airing of Grievances”! This is the part where you get to tell everybody how they have disappointed you over the past year. Time for my grievances. I present Festivus 2!!!
Here is my list of people and things that have disappointed me this past year (*There are some repeat offenders from last year):
Four Loko Drinkers
I’m so glad this stupid ass drink got banned in Mass. Even when I did underage drinking, I was never the type who would drink 2 beers and be like “Ohhh I’m so drunk right now. Whoooo!” I hate people like that. These are the same people who drink Four Loko. Trying to act all hardcore drunk and shit. Fucking posers. Drink Red Bull and vodka instead. Actually. Drink like 8 of them. Then let’s see how “hyper drunk” you can really get after you die. Idiots.
The 80lb chick that lives above me and walks like an elephant
What the fuck is your problem?! You’re so little yet you walk around like Andre the Giant trying to rape a giraffe! I nicely confronted you and you said “That’s weird. Because I walk around barefoot so I’m light on my feet.” No you’re not! I told you to get slippers! Slip and slide around like a ballerina on the fucking hardwood floors! I am buying you a pair and nailing them to your fucking door. If you don’t wear them, I’m nailing them to your forehead.
*Tom Brady
You son of a bitch. I thought you were moving so I moved. But you stayed. You totally messed up my “Tom Brady’s my neighbor so come over and I’ll show you baby” line again. And now you have that stupid Bieber hair do. And you’re wearing fucking UGGS!!!! Come on dude. Enough already. It’s getting really hard to defend you when I’m doing football trash talk with people from NY and LA. You owe everybody in Boston another Super Bowl just to get them off our damn backs.
The old gay guy who works at my gym
Hey I get it. I’m a sexy bastard. I know this. Chicks of all ages, shapes and sizes dig T. Hell yeah. And I guess some dudes do too. Because the old guy that works at my gym hits on me every morning. Every morning! Dude you’re making me feel like a piece of meat. I’m uncomfortable. I have a brain too you know! And feelings!!! Is this payback for years of hot chick oogling??? Son of a bitch. Damn you karma.
*President Obama
Dude you still haven’t done anything. Same as last year. And just like last year, I still want my vote back. Going on The Daily Show? REALLY?! Calling into Ryan Seacrest’s show? REALLY?! You’re not a celebrity! You’re the President of the United States. Do your job! Stop playing basketball too. You suck at it anyways. Say what you say about the man but Bill Clinton had this country jumping! Money and jobs! Money and jobs. So what if he banged some slampig intern. It felt good buying food for your belly back then right? Put him back in.
Lindsay Lohan
All the partying. All the drinking. All the drugs. All the sex. All the arrests. All the rehabs. I’ve had you in my celebrity death pool for almost 6 years now and you won’t fucking die! You’ve cost me so many chances at a $62 pot so far. Unbelievable.
Anyting Else Lady
This lady works at the Mediterranean restaurant near my house. She doesn’t speak English too well and always messes up my order. And always asks me “Anyting else?” I hear that in my nightmares. “Anyting else?” “Anyting else?!” She hasn’t gotten one order right yet. Not one. I really need to stop going there. “Anyting else?!”
*The economy
Nobody knows what your problem is. We can’t figure you out. Not the Republicans that broke you. Not the Democrats that can’t fix you. You’re a mess. You’re making the United States of America look like Lindsay Lohan. What the fuck is your problem?
The Event
This show is trying so bad to be LOST. But it’s not. LOST didn’t start pissing me off until like season 3. This show pissed me off like 3 minutes into the first episode. The jump around effect is not needed every fucking 7 seconds! What the hell?! Aliens that turn little girls into midget old men??? What the fuck is that all about?! And at the end of every episode stop saying “The show everyone is talking about” stupid announcer guy. Because nobody is talking about this stupid ass show. Nobody is even watching. Why the hell am I watching then?!
*The 2010 Red Sox
It wasn’t the injuries that cost us last season. It wasn’t their replacements because they played well. It wasn’t David Ortiz because he came back to life. It wasn’t the coaching because Tito made miracles out of what he had to deal with. Nope. It was the pitching. Yeah it was. More specifically it was Beckett, Lackey, Dice-K, Papelbon and everybody in the bullpen in between. You guys absolutely sucked. The 2011 Red Sox have a lot of redeeming to do.
The LOST Finale
I don’t care what anybody says. The ending sucked ass. The writers pussied out because they pulled a Sopranos on the world. You don’t leave a series finale open ended for the viewers to pick their own ending. No! Seinfeld had an ending that sucked. The Shield had a great ending. Good or bad it doesn’t matter, as the writer you close that shit. That’s your fucking job.
Time Wasters
This year was the year of time wasters. I blame myself on this one. I softened up a bit and tried putting the time into relationships both personal and business with certain people who turned out only to be a waste of my time. It works both ways. You give, you should get. You get, you should give. If it’s not reciprocated then you have gots to go. No more Mr. Nice T. Peace the fuck out time wasters. Fat trimming season is in full effect in 2011. Feelings will be hurt.
*Hollywood
Keep going with all those 3D remake reboot sequel comic book graphic novel tv show book adaptation movies. You’re a real piece of unoriginal shit right now. But for me you’re like the miserable wife I can’t divorce. Dammit.
New Twitter
The Fail Whale is gone but Twitter is now slower than the slowest kid nobody picked at recess. Nice job Twitter. #FAIL
Justin Bieber
You’re a fucktard kid. Go back to Canada. Has Canada given the world anything good besides Pamela Anderson, strippers and hockey? I’m serious here.
Chicks with super tight jeans with high heel sexy boots
You chicks have no idea what you’re doing with this look. This look manages to bring even the most busted chick to almost bangable levels. Seriously. So just imagine what you already hot chicks are doing to guys when you put on the sexy boots and super tight jeans. It’s not right. Maybe the hottest look since the t-back thong stick outs of the early 2000s. So distracting. But don’t stop.
Angry Bird Players
You fucking idiots. You are the same people who claim you are always busy. You claim you can’t make it to the gym. You can’t go out. You work too many hours. You can’t read my damn blog!!! Yet you’re sitting on your fat ass playing this stupid fucking game. You play Xbox with a strange 12 year-old kid. You’re in 3 fantasy football leagues. You watch 4 hours of reality TV each night. You’re not busy!!! Put the stupid fucking bird game down and do something!!! Dicks.
It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia
I was a fan of this show before it became a cult it. Before it became mainstream. I introduced it to everybody I know. Oh how quick they forget. I was in LA when the guys were shopping around their homemade “Charlie Has Cancer” pilot when they got their deal. I love this show. It’s groundbreaking. But this season sucked. The funny totally went out the window. The only people who can’t see that are the same idiots who forgot that I introduced them to the show. Seriously. Let’s hope they return to form next season.
The everyday Facebook complainers who complain about everyday shit
Just shut the fuck up already will you?! Your commute to and from works, your gym comings and goings, your relationship problems, your going out right nows, your weather reports, your taking a shits, your my job is the worst evers….we don’t give a fuck. We’re going through the same shit you are asshole. Do you really think somebody is going to say “You’re right. You’re commute is the worst. I feel so bad for you. Somebody should do something for you. Oh my God. I’ll make a ribbon for you and wear it everywhere.”? NO! Get off Facebook before I block you.
People Forcing Their Causes on Me
I walk down Boylston St. and get some fucking hippie every 5 damn feet trying to get me to sign something that will save the world. Fuck you. I have psycho vegan friends trying to get me to stop eating meat. Fuck you. I have people trying to get me to donate to their marathon running, bike cycling, boat racing, hunger walking…Fuck you. I have my college trying to get me to donate to help new students. Fuck you. Leave me alone. I didn’t tell you to run the marathon. I don’t know these kids going to my old college. I didn’t tell you to eat only stupid vegetables. That’s your shit. Don’t drag me into it! I donate to different types of causes and do great things all the time. I just don’t showboat and bother the people I know about it like you. Are you really in it for the cause or just the attention the cause gets you? Hmmm. Fuck you.
Willow Smith
I will not support a 9 year-old talentless kid’s career which she only has because of her super rich and super famous parents. Are you fucking kidding me? If you’re listening to her shit you are an asshole.
All of 2010
This year was a total rollercoaster ride for me. I can’t wait to see you go 2010! I hope your sister 2011 turns out to be hot as hell because I’m going to bang the shit out of her and never fucking call her after I’m done. How do you like that?!
HAPPY FESTIVUS!!!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Does Philly in 3 Paragraphs” Post
How I do Philly
*I’ve decided to do a series of blog posts that capture my travels throughout my life. In 3 paragraphs. I’ll post them every once in a while. Some places I’ve been to a few times, others only once. And some I will probably never go back to because of what went down there.
I’m a huge fan of Philadelphia. Huge. Before my first visit there my only knowledge of Philly was from the Rocky movies. They made it seem like a great working class city where Italians are idolized. Sounded great to me. My first visit came in November 2005. Nine months after the Patriots beat the Eagles in the Super Bowl. I thought this entitled me to some bragging rights. That didn’t go over so well with some douchie dudes. I was there on my own for business so I knew the odds were against me. Like Rocky. Luckily, my old neighbor Tom Brady came through for me yet again. The ladies I met at Plough & The Stars in Old City off Market street thought Tom Brady was cute even though he spanked that Eagle ass. And they thought I was cute. And talked funny. So they kept the Philly douches at bay while I worked my magic. This was the first time I had Yuengling beer too. I’m not a big beer drinker but that shit made me wish they had it in Boston. Tasty and smooth. Like Philly women.
The whole Philly cheesesteak thing is way overrated. I’ve been to Philly a few times and tried them all. Yes even Pat’s and Geno’s. That shit is horrible quality steak with fucking cheese wiz. Cheese wiz! Get out of here! Maybe because in Boston I grew up on bombass steak and cheese subs but I just didn’t see the appeal. My only Philly disappointment. And the fact that Paddy’s Pub from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia didn’t exist. Neither did the Rocky statue. I went up those stupid stairs and he wasn’t there. No place for the pigeons to rest or shit. Weak. Back to the women. On my second trip there I met a former 1986 Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. It was her first time in Philly. I acted like a seasoned Philly vet to impress. There was a 17 year age gap between us. I was young. She was the ultimate MILF. She was in town for a Volkswagon convention. She had giant implants and kept on her cowgirl hat. The whole time. I was the envy of all the drunken messes in that Hooters. After our night of wings, tequila and dirty dancing, I woke up in my hotel room to a thank you note. But it is I who should be thanking you Philly for that one. So thank you.
All in all, Philadelphia reminds me of a good mix of Boston and New York City. Not too big. Not too small. Lots of east coast attitude. You can find some of the things you love about home yet find some cool new things as well. A diverse city with a lot of history and some loyal ass sports fans. Plenty of hot ass women that like Boston guys. I haven’t been to Philly in a few years but would like to go back. My goal next time is to run the Rocky run while a bunch of little kids come out of nowhere and run along with me cheering. Then hit up Market street and get hammered off Yuengling while a Boston team is destroying a Philly team then I’ll meet a hot ass Philly chick that may or may not be a former NFL cheerleader and we both get so assed out drunk that she convinces me to try a cheesesteak and I actually like it because I’m so smashed. That’s my perfect Philly dream. Like I said, I’m a huge Philly fan. But I love Boston the best.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “10 Sports T Despises and How MMA Can Help” Post
This should be allowed in corporate America.
I’m a huge MMA fan. HUGE! I’m not one of those fickle fans who jumped on the bandwagon a couple of years ago when the UFC was getting hot either. I was a fan since the early 90s when the UFC was banned in the US and like little 100 pound dudes fought like 350 pound dudes without gloves in consecutive marathon fights. Now it’s regulated, legit and popular. Just look at all the Affliction wearing douches around you. I also train. Not like a pro. Because I have a real life. And I like my teeth. But for the past few years I’ve incorporated Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Dirty Boxing into my training routine. Anyways, I’m not just an MMA fan I’m also a huge sports fan. As you probably already know if you’ve been reading t-blawg for a while. But there are some sports I just can’t get into. That I actually despise. I think if they took some elements from MMA they might actually get me to watch them. Maybe. Here are “10 Sports T Despises and Maybe MMA Can Help”.
Soccer
I fucking hate soccer. HATE. With a passion. These dudes run up and down a field that seems like it is 100 miles long for what seems like 9 boring fucking hours only to have the game end in a 0-0 tie. Why would I like this?
How MMA Can Help: If the game is still tied at the end of the 9 hours have 2 players from both teams put 2 players from the opposing teams into rear naked chokes. Whoever taps first loses the game. Simple.
NASCAR
The only sport I hate as much as soccer is NASCAR. These hillbillies drive really really fast and turn left every now and then. That’s a sport?! If your only joy from watching a sport is hoping that some shit blows up and people die, it’s not a real sport!
How MMA Can Help: At every single pit stop the driver has to get out of his car and take 25 shin kicks from a Muay Thai expert before he can get back in his car and start driving again.
Golf
Golf is not a sport. I’ll say it again. Golf is not a sport. I played golf once in my life. So I hardly have any experience. But if I can get up hungover out of my mind in Las Vegas to play 18 holes with my buddies where we all puke on the course and start drinking again while we play, it’s not a fucking sport. No way. No how. Because that’s how we did it.
How MMA Can Help: Every time a golfer hits their ball into the water where the fans watching wonder if there’s an alligator in it, the golf refs put an actual alligator in it and the stupid golfer has to submit the alligator to get his ball back.
Tennis
These so called athletes hit a ball back and forth grunting like retards while some guy on a lifeguard chair keeps score. And I don’t know how he does it. The scoring system makes no sense. How many games have to be played to have a winner??? Why is this stupid sport so confusing? Besides Serena’s giant tank ass what else is there to want to watch?
How MMA Can Help: Loser has to put his tennis racket in front of his face while taking 2 minutes of ground and pound from Brock Lesnar.
Women’s Basketball
Hey call me sexist on this one I don’t care. But women’s basketball is not a sport. It’s horrible. The games end with scores of like 37-22. Those are what dude’s score in like 1 quarter! And if there’s no dunking, it isn’t basketball. Sorry. These chicks can’t dunk. Plus there isn’t a female version of LeDouche James to hate. Every sport needs a villain. And I just hate them all. It isn’t the same. Even that UCONN team. Stop it.
How MMA Can Help: Put a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu pro into the losing team’s mascot costume and have it kick the shit out of the losers immediately after the last buzzer. That shit would be hilarious!
Volleyball
Nobody watches the dudes play. Not since that Tom Cruise volleyball scene in Top Gun. The gayest movie scene known to man. And we only watch the chicks play to see their hot, sweaty bodies. Other than that high note this sport is pointless.
How MMA Can Help: Ban all dudes and just make the chicks have to wrestle each other in a kiddie pool full of baby oil. Actually MMA doesn’t even need to help this sport. Just use my baby oil kiddie pool idea volleyball people.
Softball
The lesbian version of baseball you mean? Get out of here. Wouldn’t watch this shit with your eyes.
How MMA Can Help: Just end the sport entirely and take these masculine chicks and put them in the octagon to bang it out. Call it FUFC. Female UFC. Thank me later Dana White.
Boxing
This sport was once awesome. But it became so corrupted and shitty nobody cares about it. How can I care about a sport that has a 98 year-old, earless, no long-term or short-term memory capable Evander Holyfield still fighting?! I can’t! Manny Pacquiao? Yeah he’s good. For someone the size of a 10 year-old boy who sings karaoke. And until he and Mayweather actually fight, this sport is a damn joke.
How MMA Can Help: MMA cannot help this sport. If you want to see two real men beat the hell out of each other just watch MMA instead. That’s it.
Horse Racing
All of the degenerates in my family watched this sport when I was a kid. So they could gamble. It’s basically a bunch of angry midgets riding and whipping the shit out of horses as they race around a muddy track. It’s so damn lame.
How MMA Can Help: Put the midgets in the octagon with the angry horses instead. Let the horses get a little pay back. Watch a midget get horse kicked out of an octagon and laugh as his little body soars 10 rows into the crowd. Awesome!
The Entire Olympics
Hey I’m all about the USA. I love this country. But the Olympics absolutely suck. Summer and Winter. Suck. Nobody gives a shit about those lame ass sports all year round but when the Olympics come on everybody is all of a sudden an expert. A fan. Cheering. Talking like they know and love the sport because the TV told you to. Shut up. They suck. You suck. You faker. Curling?! Really?! You like curling? The tea kettle and ice sweeping sport? Sledding? You like sledding now too?! You really enjoy watching and cheering that shitty team playing basketball that dares to compare itself to the great Dream Team??? Magic Johnson is rolling over in his grave!!! Oh wait. He’s rich. He has the cure. Anyways. The Olympics are lame.
How MMA Can Help: Until they let MMA into the Olympics I refuse to give a shit. So it can’t help. But if the losing country gets taken over by the winning country, now we’re talking! Every country would be USA baby! Or maybe Canada. Oh no. Wait. We don’t want that. Not America Jr.!
Ten sports that MMA just made cooler. Get on it people in charge of the sports I named! Because until you do, T refuses to watch. And how can T do an “Epic Game Moment” blog post for a sport that he refuses to watch. Hmm? Hmm? Think about that shit.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “What Her Facebook Pic is Really Saying” Post
REALLY?!
I’m just going to put this out there. Tons of women put up some really misleading and pointless pics on their Facebook pages. You think you look cute. You don’t. You think you look funny. You don’t. You think you look cool. You don’t. You think you’re being original. You’re not. You want the truth baby? Well that’s what I do. Here’s what your Facebook pic is really saying to the world.
Self portrait holding phone up in the mirror
I’m just like every other conceited chick on here. I need attention. “Like” my pic so I have some self-esteem. Thank you.
Arm bent on hip pose
I think I’m fat. This hides my arm fat though. I may be skinny. I may be fat. Either way I have issues.
Me with a bunch of my hot friends
I have enough confidence to know that I am hot. Maybe too much. But now that you know I have hot friends, will you hit on them too? Oh shit.
My girlfriends cropped out
I’m catty and I hate other women. Even my friends. Imagine what I’ll be like to the women in your life.
A pic of me from 5 years ago
Yeah. I don’t look like this anymore. No way. But I really want to believe it. I really want you to believe it more.
Me cuddling my pet really hard and awkward
Crazy pet chick. That is all.
Me with other people’s kids
See?! I’m loving. I’ll make a good mother some day! I’m totally fucking tricking you right now.
A pic of food
I’m not fat. Really. All chicks take pics of food and make them their profile pics. It means I’m secure about my body image. Don’t judge me. Quick where’s the bathroom? I need to go gag myself.
Me in my slutty Halloween costume from 2004. Even though it’s January 2011 right now.
Oh. I’m a bad, bad girl. I want you to think so at least. No. I won’t play dress up for you. As a matter of fact, once we start dating, this hot ass costume will be replaced by an unsexy full body Gumby suit.
My ex Photoshopped out very badly
I know out of all the pics of me on Facebook I decided to use this one because I still really really hate my ex! He’s an asshole! You know what he did to me?! 5 years ago??? No this isn’t a red flag. I’m totally over him. Really. I’m going to unblock him again today to see what he’s been up to. WHAT?! He still has me blocked?! I’m going to cut his tires right now.
A pic from my childhood
I have lived a life full of regret and the 8-year-old in me hates me. I want you to think I was cute for some reason. Even though most of you didn’t know me back then. Shut up. I’m confused. Where’s the wine?
Me and my hot sister
Isn’t she beautiful??? She’s like a younger, hotter, sluttier version of me and now you have a comparison. I know I shouldn’t be mad about your 3 way fantasy with the 2 of us. But I will be. Even though I only have myself to blame.
My Semi-Professional Model Pic
Everybody knows I’m not a model. But with a nice camera, a lot of makeup, fake eye lashes, fake fingernails, hair extensions, a push up bra, a bunch of borrowed clothes and a lot of Photoshop I kind of look like one. But I really am looking for a relationship built on trust and honesty. So lets keep it real. What?
The black and white Pic
I’m artsy! Look! Wait I’m really not. I just learned Photoshop 2 hours ago.
I’m clearly drunk
So I like my booze??? After a few AA meetings I’ll take it down.
Me with the Peace Sign
I’m really not a peaceful hippie. I’m unoriginal so this is the best I could come up with. This means I’m also like a cold piece of fish in bed.
Me giving the Finger
I want you to think I’m bad ass. Like fuck the world or something. But I really just hate myself more and more as I close in on 30.
Just my cleavage
I’m really not a slut. I just have really nice boobs. And I really want a guy to like me for what’s on the inside. What?
Me driving pic
I’m about to die. What….up.
Kissy duck face
Don’t I look like such a cute kissy duck face?! Who’s the cute kissy duck face??? I’m the cute kissy duck face! Yes I am! Yes I….wait don’t delete me. Come back!
Looking off to the side for no reason whatsoever self-portrait
I’m half retarded. At least. Maybe full.
In my sluttiest outfit for the club. Either at the club. Or at home before the club.
This is hours and hours of gym time, dieting, working out and tanning. It took weeks to find this dress. Spent too much money on my fake hair and makeup. But I’m not superficial. I just want one guy to prove to me that he’s not like the rest. And I’m going to find him and test him while looking like this. In a club. When I’m drunk. Yep. That makes sense.
Me just waking up/no make up/belly showing etc. With the caption “I look gross/fat”
Yes you really do. But you want a hundred guys to say you don’t while still clicking on the like button. You’re fucking crazy.
I’m on to all of you. Now everybody else is too. Your Facebook pics are stupid. Smarten the fuck up.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Top 10 Future Celebrity Ex-Wives” Post
Arianny Celeste. They don't get any better.
I’m close to the Hollywood dream. It’s true. My writing is so money and I know it. I just have to convince some other people it is and I’ll be living large. And when that happens I plan on settling down with some famous hot ass chick. I’m thinking it’ll take me at least 10 times to get it right. At least. Because I’m a lot to deal with. I’m picky. I’m crazy. And I have ridiculously high almost unattainable standards. So here are my future celebrity ex-wives. Why? Just because. Every dude has a top 10 celebrity chick list. Seriously. It’s Man Law. He’s lying if he says he doesn’t.
10. Sofia Vergara
Wifey Material: Most people are just turning onto her now because of Modern Family. My boys and I used to watch her every Saturday on Telemundo in high school. So we go way back. She can cook, dance and she’s already a MILF. A great first famous wife I say!
Cause of Divorce: Her Colombian accent and my Boston accent will piss us both off due to lack of communication. The cute will become annoying so fast.
9. Adriana Lima
Wifey Material: I love Brazilian model chicks. I dated a Brazilian yoga fanatic once. She got deported. But she wasn’t a rich Victoria’s Secret model like Adrianna.
Cause of Divorce: A younger, hotter, even more Brazilian Victoria’s Secret model most likely.
8. Zuzana The YouTube Workout Girl
Wifey Material: She’s a fitness freak and has one of the tightest bodies on the planet. Maybe in the universe. I’m a gym nut so this would make sense.
Cause of Divorce: I’m also Italian and I like my food so she would probably piss me off once she takes away my pasta, gravy and bread.
7. Ashley Greene
Wifey Material: I refuse to watch Twilight. I was turned onto Ashley thanks to my buddy that runs Egotastic.com. She is young, hot and an actress. I’ll write a movie for her.
Cause of Divorce: She’ll probably be a bigger star than me and that will cause me to bang one of the other Twilight chicks out of spite. Sad but true.
6. Mila Kunis
Wifey Material: She’s the total package. Hot, rich, famous, foreign, brunette with nice eyes. Perfect!
Cause of Divorce: She is also pretty damn funny on Family Guy. But my house can only have one powerful funny person. And that would be me! See ya Meg Griffin!
5. Rihanna
Wifey Material: She’s hot. Tatted up. Rich. And sings. Yahtzee!!!
Cause of Divorce: I would definitely run around the house all day saying “Umbrella-ella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh…..” Because I’m an asshole. While I would never get sick of it, she most likely will.
4. Maria Menounos
Wifey Material: Boston hottie that likes the same teams as me?! Holla! This is a keeper!
Cause of Divorce: Only because she is friends with Dane Cook. And I hate Dane Cook.
3. Olivia Munn
Wifey Material: Hot, smart and a quadruple threat! TV, movies, writer, sexy. Has a hit blog. She’s like the female me. Except with a nice friggin’ rack.
Cause of Divorce: She likes going to nerdy Comic Con and shit. They wear costumes there. She wears costumes there. And we all know I hate people in costumes. It’s documented. Sorry Olivia. You could’ve been a contender.
2. Megan Fox
Wifey Material: She is the hottest girl to ever exist in the history of existence!!!
Cause of Divorce: Two big reasons…those fucking creepy toe thumbs. Makes me shiver. And she likes losers. Sorry I’m not Brian Austin fucking Green AKA David Silver.
1. Arianny Celeste
Wifey Material: Hot? Check. Brunette? Check. In shape? Check. Likes MMA? Check. Knows that I exist because I stalked…um met her once at the UFC Boston Expo and we occasionally tweet each other on Twitter??? CHECK!!!
Cause of Divorce: None! Arianny Celeste would be my final famous wife. Now somebody please go tell her that.
*Honorable Mentions (AKA “The Women I Will Cheat on my Wives With on The Side”):
Kim Kardashian. For the ass alone.
Kristin Kreuk. Just to piss off her boyfriend. He doesn’t like me.
Sarah Hyland. She’s like a Mila Kunis clone backup plan. But younger.
Eliza Dushku. Come on! She’s a Boston girl yo.
Tara, the doctor chick that Jax bangs on Sons of Anarchy.
Lindsay Lohan. Say what you want, but the ginger is crazy dirty hot.
Mrs. Ari Gold. A true rich milf. And a fictional character.
Angelina Jolie. Because she’s Angelina Jolie!
Jessica Alba. Not because she can act. Because she can’t.
Katy Perry. For her boobs alone.
Any hot chick that reads t-blawg. Seriously. It’s my gift from all of me to all of you.
This is my list. And I’m not crazy. Every guy has his top ten famous chick list. Trust me. I only took it a step further by marrying them. And another step further than that by divorcing them. Shit. I’m insane.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Debunks the Female Male Fantasies” Post
Your list is stupid
So some women in my life recently have inspired me….uh provoked me into writing this. Do what you will with this info. It’s truth. Period.
Let’s get right into it with “The List”. Every single woman on the hunt has one. It’s what you want in a man right? It’s your must haves! It’s also your damn security blanket. It’s your way of getting out of it with a guy by going to the “It’s not me, it’s him” reasoning. “He doesn’t fit the profile.” And I’m here to tell you the list is bullshit and the only person you’re hurting is yourself. Do you honestly think the perfect man for you exists? Do you honestly buy into that “I just want one guy to prove to me that he’s not like all the rest” garbage? You really want the “fairy tale happy ending”? Get off your fucking high horse ok? We’re men. We’re not knights in shining armor. We’re not leading male characters in Julia Roberts and Katherine Heigl movies. We’re not douchebags that play your bad boy with hearts of gold or fixer-upper roles in your mental Sex and the City fantasies. We’re not underage fucking sparkly book or pretty boy True Blood vampires. We’re real life guys. We fart. We pick our noses. We shift our balls when we’re bored in public. We have beer bellies no matter how much we work out. We make mistakes. We’re not a checklist of 25 random things you must have to fall in love with! We’re not all top doctors and lawyers. We all don’t like to cuddle every night of the week. We’re not all commissioned talented painters. We don’t all like to stay in bed rolling around like idiots on top of Sunday newspapers on rainy days. Don’t put that weird shit on us.
Stop putting your lists, fantasies, movie characters, romance novel cover guys and the 9-year-old you pretending to get married in a dress in front of all her dolls and stuffed animals to her made up husband on all of us. Accept that you’re not perfect first. Then realize no guy will ever be perfect. Think outside your box. Pun intended. Then be open to compromise. Then and only then you might be normal enough to find a guy. Because you’re missing out right now. I guarantee it. I don’t want to hear your complaining. Yes we’re all assholes. But if you stop being so high-strung and having such unrealistic perfect guy traits for one fucking minute and open your eyes you will find one of us imperfect normal men who will stop being an asshole to you and you alone. But first you have to throw your list and that dream of meeting atop of the stupid Empire State Building or fucking Eiffel Tower out the damn window. Life isn’t The Notebook ladies. You know that shit was made up right? Life also isn’t some Taylor Swift song lyric that you like to quote on fucking facebook. We all can’t be like your dad either. I guarantee your dad wasn’t even like your dad. Ask your mom. She compromised. She fell for his flaws and insecurities once she dropped her wall and tossed out her damn list and prince rescuing her from her tower prison fantasy.
If he went to any college instead of one of your preferred ivy league schools, give him a chance. If he shaves his head and doesn’t have Brad Pitt hair, give him a chance. If he has a 3 pack instead of Ryan Reynolds abs, give him a chance. If he has a decent job that is enough to pay the bills and spoil you instead of being the CEO of Google, give him a chance. If he ate dinner with the wrong fork instead of your right fork, give him a chance. If he doesn’t know the name of your boss but knows enough to massage your feet after a rough day at work, give him a chance. If you’re confused on whether he wants to be your friend or date you, just ask him, then give him a chance. If his favorite movie isn’t Love Actually but laughs just as much as you do at Wedding Crashers, give him a chance. If he isn’t wearing a light brown sports coat with a canary vest and a thin blue striped white button up but is the only guy trying to fucking talk to you in the bar tonight, give him a chance! I’m not saying to lower your standards, I’m saying lower your wall. I’m not saying to not look for what you want, I’m saying to stop looking for what you don’t want. Toss the list. Smile more. Relax. Talk to the guys who want to talk to you. Then I guarantee you will meet a real life special guy. I promise. Once again, thank me later.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Does South Beach in 3 Paragraphs” Post
T Did South Beach
*I’ve decided to do a series of blog posts that capture my travels throughout my life. In 3 paragraphs. I’ll post them every once in a while. Some places I’ve been to a few times, others only once. And some I will probably never go back to because of what went down there.
I’ve only been to South Beach once in my life. And it was only for a day. I know, I know. It bothers me too. But let me tell you about that one day trip. It was for 27 hours. And every hour was put to use. One of my boys and I booked a trip on a cruise to the Bahamas with some other friends that left Miami on a Friday. So my pal and I decided to leave Boston a day earlier to go to South Beach before we had to get on the cruise and join everybody else. We left Logan that Thursday morning on the first flight out of Boston. We landed and got to our hotel the Old Colony at 8:00AM. At 8:01AM we found out that Happy Hour was every hour! We ordered 2 of the largest Scorpion Bowls known to man. In Boston the bars don’t open until 11AM. To actually drink that early in that weather in that city made us think we were in heaven. And we were. The party started early and never ended.
After a couple of hours of Happy Hour boozing and hurting our necks looking at the quality of women strutting up and down Ocean Drive we went to the liquor store and packed a cooler to hit the beach. Topless beach that is. While South Beach is on par with Vegas and LA for hot chicks, there was the occasional old cougar topless on the beach. But it wasn’t that bad. She was 50 years old, her boobs were young at like 7 years old. This place is like Implant Central! It was awesome. We spent hours drinking, chatting to ladies and tanning on the beach. And I didn’t have any sun block. What a dumb move. This caused some serious dementia later on that night and on the upcoming cruise. I had like 3rd degree burns on my head. Whatever. The booze numbed the pain. We power napped for like 12 minutes back at the hotel and then got ready for more partying. We hit the Clevelander, met some hotties, drank some more, hit up more spots, I flirted with a hot ass Russian KGB spy/restaurant hostess, saw some sick cars, drank some more, then finally slowed down for an awesome meal. South Beach has some great food from what I remember. The sun set and night there is equal as or more awesome than South Beach during the day.
After our meal, we walked up and down the strip just taking in the ambience of this awesome place. I stumbled upon a Cuban Cigar guy. Never one to pass up the opportunity to haggle with a street vendor by showboating my sales skills, I bought a Cuban cigar. My first cigar ever. It was good. I was drunk. I think it was laced with hash. I have no fucking idea. So at this point in the trip I’m on booze, no sleep, a hashish laced cigar, sunstroke and dehydration. So what do we do? We think we’re Crockett & Tubbs and hit up Mansion where they filmed the Miami Vice movie. We Boston talked our way through the line of course. Ballin’!!! Oddly enough we ran into some Boston chicks inside that knew us from back home. Weird. Then blew them off for the chicks we met earlier at the Clevelander. One of the chicks was hot as hell and gave me a shot of Yager. I hate Yager. I did the shot though. You never turn down a hot chick’s shot. Never. Aaaand that was the point where everything went black. I woke up the next morning in her hotel room with my buddy calling my cell asking where I was and that we were going to miss the boat. In the following order I got her number, then I got her name, asked her where I was, then I asked her if she roofied me because that shot of Yager blacked me the fuck out. And I don’t black out. Ever. I ran back to my hotel. And we left to get the boat. There were a lot of things that led to my South Beach blackout. Some good. Some bad. Either way, I need to go back. Maybe more than 27 hours this time. South Beach is a trip. Pun intended. But I love Boston the best.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Marriage Pail List” Post
You should have a damn Marriage Pail!
So many people jumped on the “Bucket List” bandwagon after that awful movie came out. A bucket list is a list of things you want to do before you die. Before you kick the bucket. Get it? Good. I’m going to live a long ass time. And I’ve accomplished a lot already. But so much left to do. Before I’m married. There are things you can and only should do while you’re single. And in some people’s eyes, marriage equals death anyways. So I came up with my “Marriage Pail List”. The things I want to do before I get married and single T dies. Some seem easily accomplishable. Others seem downright fucking nuts. But that’s how I roll. I present my “Marriage Pail List”. Another original T creation!
Visit the mother country. Italy. And rock it like Russell Crowe did in “A Good Year”. Except with Italians and not with those French people like he did in France.
See at least 3 Wonders of the World. Including Kim Kardashian’s ass and Katy Perry’s boobs.
Learn how to play craps and then win and lose at least $350K.
Learn how to ride a motorcycle and jump some barrels behind a fast food joint ala “Fonzie” style. Heeyyyyyy.
Build something that I will use. Probably a weapon of sorts.
Bang twins. At the same time.
Get into a fight with an 80s WWF wrestler and finish him off with a “Rotunda” elbow.
Fight Jason Giambi. One more time.
Jump out of an airplane “Johnny Utah” style. Vaya con dios brah.
Steal a car one last time. Just because.
Bang the one I never did because I messed up by banging her friend instead.
Go fishing for sharks. Catch one. Then baseball bat its head in once I get it on board the boat.
Get married and then immediately divorce a reigning Playboy Playmate of the Year in Vegas.
Win the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay.
Put Brian Austin Green into an omoplata in front of Megan Fox and make him cry.
Surf at least once. Also like “Johnny Utah”.
Join the mafia.
Have a conversation with Kevin Smith, Howard Stern, Matt Stone & Trey Parker and Quentin Tarantino.
Join the Mile High Club with a former Disney starlet slampig.
Have a dance off with MC Hammer. Dressed as MC Hammer. Fucking awesome.
Make at least $100 million from one of my fantastic, entertaining creations.
Punch Justin Bieber dead in the middle of his fucking face.
Go back in time in a flying Delorean. With Doc.
Find out if they put crack in Nutella. That shit is good!
Learn how to play only Tupac songs on the piano.
Perform Big Pimpin’ with Jay-Z on stage. Then go in the back and bang Beyonce while he’s on stage performing the rest of his songs.
Set all the animals free in a zoo then watch all the videos of them attacking people on YouTube.
Run the bases in Fenway. Backwards.
Send my mother on an all expenses paid trip to Tahiti for as long as she wants.
Get into a life or death situation like Indiana Jones where my “T” hat falls off as I barely roll under a lowering stone wall with enough time to grab my hat before it closes.
Get into an argument and use George Costanza’s “Well the jerk store called and they said they’re running out of you!” insult. Owned!
Convince Eddie Murphy to go back to being funny Eddie Murphy and do a stand up show old school “Raw” style.
Get every asshole mascot banned from professional sports.
Crash on an island with Kate from LOST. Kill Sawyer and Jack right away. I’m not stupid.
Host my own late night talk show.
Put out a celebrity sex tape with Sofia Vergara and tweet about it. Constantly.
Find out why Entourage turned to shit and make somebody pay for it in blood.
Start a channel that only plays tv shows starring Tiffani Amber Thiessen.
Find out how ALF ended. I can’t remember.
Find and enter the world’s biggest UNO tournament and fuck shit up!
Learn how to speak a language fluently that isn’t English, Italian or Bostonian.
Find a crashed spaceship from out of space. Somewhere. Anywhere.
Drive cross-country from Boston to Los Angeles in an old ass convertible and rock each and every fucking town I enter. T style.
That’s my “Marriage Pail List”. If you don’t have one, start one. Now. And if you’re married and living a life of regret, get divorced and start one. You only get one go around in this life. Make it count. T style of course.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Valentine’s Day Sucks 2-F*ck Love” Post
Cupid is a dick
Last year I wrote Valentine’s Day Sucks. I stated my case about why it sucks. This year I’m following it up with a sequel. A more introspective look into myself and to why I personally think it sucks. I had a year to do this research. The result is this. I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I’m not capable of love. I mean I love myself. A lot. Shit I’m awesome! I love my family. I love my friends. I love Boston. I love money. I love writing. I love sex. I love my work. I love all that stuff a lot. But I just can’t find it with a woman. Maybe it’ll never happen. Maybe I don’t care. Maybe I do. Maybe I’ll live in shame. In sin. In lust. For the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll just come and go as I please. Pun intended. Maybe I’ll just rock some chicks’ lives and leave them happy. Or miserable. I mean that’s what I’ve been doing. For a while now. Maybe it’s because I refuse to “bite the bullet” like so many of my boys have done. “Time for me to settle, T.” They say. “I want to have kids. She’ll make a good mom.” They trick themselves into believing. “I’m getting up there. Sick of going out.” They say as if they are defeated. And you know what t-blawgians? Not one of them. Not one single one of my seriously committed or married buddies have ever said to me, “I love her more than I love myself. More than anyone or anything else I know.” Not one. That’s what I would want. If it ever happened.
I’m not heartless. I’m just me. I’ve been in love. I’ve been loved. And it ended. It came and went. That’s what she said. So until I can say what none of my buddies are capable of saying, I say this, fuck love. Fuck the chirping birds. Fuck the butterflies. Fuck the candy. Fuck the dopey in love smiles. Fuck the elderly couple holding hands. Fuck the weddings. Fuck the living happily ever afters. Fuck love. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it! All you whack ass “in love” people can go out on Valentine’s Day to that “special restaurant”. Order that “bottle of champagne”. Spend the night “in Boston”. Away from the kids. Away from your mundane “settled” lives. Because you know what? All that special shit I just mentioned? I DO THAT EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY. I’m already in Boston. I’ve already been to that restaurant and told you about it. I already drank that champagne and pissed it out. Twice. I don’t have kids that I need to hide from for the night. This is your Valentine’s Day??? REALLY?! That’s special? That’s love?! Fuck that. Fuck love.
All you couples “in love” judge me and all those other people who haven’t found “love” yet just a little bit more around Valentine’s Day. Don’t lie. You stare. You point. You gossip. You think and say something is wrong with us. You cast your fucking Valentine’s Day stones. Well this year I’m throwing them back. Right at your stupid fucking heads. I’m throwing them back for people who aren’t like you. I’m not like you. I’m not saying you’re bad. I’m just saying I’m not you. And I’m also saying…fuck love. Fuck your version of it anyways. I may not be capable of your version of love. Or the “textbook” version of it. But maybe someday I’ll say out loud to whoever will listen, with a big dopey fucking smile on my face “I love her more than I love myself. More than anyone or anything else I know.” But until that day. Fuck love. Fuck Valentine’s Day. At least until that day.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T’s Greatest Life Lessons” Post
Life Lessons
What I’ve discovered in life goes like this. As a kid, you learn about the world. As a teenager, you think you know everything about the world. In your 20s, you realize you don’t know shit about anything. In your 30s…well I’m just starting here and I’m in that comfortable spot where I know who I am. And I think that’s the most important lesson to learn. In my life, even as a little kid, I had to figure out a lot on my own. That’s the hand I was dealt. Seven deuce off suit and I’ve played that shit like pocket aces baby. And I’ve learned a lot. In no particular order, here are the top 10 greatest life lessons I’ve learned. So far.
Honesty-“Speak Your Mind at all Times”
Jay-Z once said “A closed mouth don’t get fed”. Very true. I speak my mind. Hell, look at this blog! I put it out there. I don’t lie. My honesty has actually worked against me a few times in life. But I could look myself in the eye and still hold my head up when I fucked up. A lot of people can’t say that.
Chivalry-“Treat a Woman Like a Woman”
I owe this one growing up with my mother and sister having such an impact on my life I guess. How to treat a woman like a woman. Now my boys and I were also punks and learned how to treat a ho like a ho. While there will always be “can’t turn a ho into a housewife” and “if you pay like you weigh you can stay baybay” for the hos. There will always be pulling chairs out; holding doors open; telling a woman she looks beautiful when she needs to hear it; always picking up the bill; and old-fashioned walking on the outside so a car hits you first for women. Chivalry isn’t dead ladies. We just hold on to it for the ones that matter most. Well at least I do. Seriously.
Loyalty-“Your Friends Can Surprise You”
Some of my friends growing up weren’t the best of men looking in from the outside but they were loyal. I was loyal. When I needed my boys during some rough times, they were always there. The biggest, baddest dudes I knew. When the world handed me my ass, they were there to pick me up, dust me off and say “Get back at it T”. Growing up in a city and family where you stay loyal to each other is something I carried over into my adult life. Into relationships and business. I am fiercely loyal to the people I care about. If you know any of them. Ask them. They’ll tell you. And that is something you need in life.
Telling the People You Care About You Love Them -“Sometimes Just Showing it isn’t Enough”
Shit I grew up in a family where we hardly ever said “I love you”. We were loved and showed it but never really said it. I don’t know why. It wasn’t until my first niece was born that I noticed myself telling her and other people I cared about that I loved them. A real man can say it. And being drunk doesn’t count! Even though I still have a hard time saying it to the women I get involved with. What? A knock on the arm and a “back at ya babe” isn’t enough ladies??? I joke, I joke! I keed! I keed!
How to Fight-“Only When You Have No Other Option”
I’ve had my fair share of fights. I got the scars to show for it. Now that I actually train in different forms of fighting I’ve learned not to fight. Fighting sucks. It feels good beating somebody down sometimes yes. But the older you get the more you have to lose from a single 2 minute fight that could impact your entire future. Walk away. Walk away. Until you can’t walk away. Just be ready for what happens after the fight.
Getting my Heart Broken-“Painful But Necessary”
Handling physical pain? No problem. Mental toughness? Got it locked. Handling a situation with my brain instead of my emotions? Absolutely. Having my heart broken by a chick you thought you knew and loved and would do anything for??? Worst. Fucking. Pain. Ever. Son of a bitch! It fucks with you in every way possible. You actually feel your heart falling out of you and then your mind goes away for a while. You start to question everything about yourself. And then your boys and a trip to Vegas temporarily eases the pain. Until you come home. And then the deep depression kicks in. But then you come back. Stronger. And realize what kind of man you really are. You need it to happen in life. Get your heart broken. And break a heart. Learn from it.
Respect for Money-“You Appreciate It More When You Don’t Have It”
I never understood the people in my life who gambled growing up. We hardly had any money yet they would still gamble the little we had away. That stayed with me! Besides the occasional Vegas trip or Foxwoods run, I don’t gamble. Not on games. Not on horses. Not on the lottery. And I’m a great card player. And I make a great living. I just respect money too much to piss it away. I rather do something nice for somebody with it. Or put into my business. Or treat myself. Money isn’t everything. But you better fucking respect it. Because when you don’t have it, you’ll understand why.
How to Write-“My Gift and My Curse”
I knew that I could write when I was in the third grade and instead of doing the assigned book reports, I would make up my own books, characters, authors and give book reports on them. My teacher wasn’t happy but was impressed. She told my mother who was also impressed. Then I turned that into journalism. More creative writing. Screenplays. Business plans. And even blogging. More of a curse. Because blogging isn’t writing. No structure really. Just thoughts on a screen. But I love writing. And it takes up a lot of my time. Some people don’t like that. I get it. But I have to write. And I know they love it too when they see the money from it.
Self Dependence-“It’s a Great Feeling When You Surprise Yourself”
I’ve always depended on myself. Always. Had no other choice. Plus I’m stubborn as fuck and only really trust a few people. But being independent has gotten me into and out of some awesome, scary, downright evil insane situations. I can now say “Holy shit! I can’t believe I got out of that one!” Rely on yourself. You will surprise yourself. Self worth is something only you will know about yourself and your salary and the people in your life can never tell you what that really is.
How to Laugh at Myself-“If You Can Laugh at Yourself, You Can Laugh at Anything”
During some rough situations in life I’ve somehow almost always found a way to laugh. It helped. But laughing at myself when I was a poor, angry, yet super smart young ruffian? Nearly impossible! Then at some point in my life when I was at my most evil, I broke. The wall came down permanently. That made life a little easier. Your ego takes a bruising. You get humbled. Your guard drops. And people like this. My wacky sense of humor kind of became my trademark. My sarcasm is brutal! Plus nobody likes that dick who can’t take a joke or a good rubbing at his own expense. Laugh at yourself. Shit laugh at yourself first! You’ll thank me for it.
Those were the 10 greatest lessons I learned in life so far. I know this was a little different from usual t-blawg posts. But I hope you found this helpful. And if you didn’t, then take about 30 minutes and list what you think are the top lessons you learned about life so far. It’s really an eye-opening event. I enjoyed writing this post. And it also reassured myself about my own awesomeness. I need reassurance people!!!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Greatest Moments of My Asshole Era” Post
My Asshole Era
After my evil yet contradicting good student era from birth through the age of 13, I entered my asshole era. Now I was still a good student but outside of school around friends and even sometimes around complete strangers as well, I was an asshole. I can admit that now. From the ages of 14-24, I was a complete asshole. To everyone. Just because. My friends were also assholes, but I was definitely king asshole. I made a lot of enemies at that time. I still apologize to this day for being an asshole. I’ve matured. Became a man. And really started to get my shit together and treat people better. I stopped doing the asshole things that I would do for no reason. I just did them. I was an angry bastard. Thankfully, I lightened the hell up and stopped being an asshole. Here are 10 reasons why I was an asshole. I did a lot worse than what’s on this list, but I can’t reveal those acts of assholeness to the world. Due to not wanting to incriminate myself and my pals. The following are some serious asshole moments. Read at your own discretion. I’m no longer like this. But these are some heavy asshole moments that might make you think otherwise. Enjoy. Did I mention I used to be an asshole?
10. Snapped on a dead chick
My cousin met his future wife when we were all in college together. She would try to include me in their activities by putting together nights out with them and her single girlfriends so I could still hang out with my cousin while she and I got to know each other as well. I was too much of an asshole to appreciate the gesture at the time so I was mean to all of her friends. And one of them I was a little extra mean to one night. I was in a bad mood as usual and the 3 of us went to get roast beef sandwiches. I didn’t want to sit with them because I was pissy. So I sat 2 tables away. By myself. In the empty restaurant. Yeah. Seriously. My cousin had just met his girlfriend’s friend that night, just like me. She decided to break the ice with my cousin by telling him the story about how she had “died” when she was younger and was brought back to life by doctors that saved her. I didn’t hear anything else as I ate. I just heard that she said she had died. And for some reason it bothered me that she had died. So I shouted out across the tables “YOU DIED?! Who the fuck fucking dies?! So stupid.” I didn’t even make eye contact. I just said this out loud. Into my roast beef sandwich. The place went silent. She cried. My cousin and his girlfriend were pissed. Really pissed. Can’t blame them.
9. Called the police to break up a party. A party I was still at.
My buddy met a chick. So we all went to her house to party. When we got there, she was hot. Her friends all looked like linebackers for the Patriots. We drank. I got angry. We got bored. My buddy didn’t want to leave because she was hot. And he didn’t want us to leave him. So I decided to break up the party by calling the police. I went into the kitchen by myself and dialed 911. Told them “I’m stuck at a boring party with ugly chicks. We’re all underage and drinking. Sex is next. You better come do something about it.” The cops showed up 5 minutes later and told the girl that somebody had called from inside the house complaining about the party. The cops made all us guys leave. That’s how asshole T broke up whack ass parties yo!
8. Drank a keg and then strangled a dude in a moving car, in a tunnel
We ended up at a lame ass party in college. Degenerate pill poppers. No hot chicks. And a keg of beer that nobody was drinking. I was with my cousin, his girlfriend, 2 of her girlfriends and 1 of their douchebag guy friends. We were bored. My cousin dared me to drink the keg by myself. I accepted the challenge. I always accepted his challenges. It kept life interesting! I got down like 27 beers in 90 minutes. We left. The 6 of us piled into the car. I was the only drunk one. My cousin’s girlfriend was driving. Her friend between us. My cousin, the other girl and the douchebag were in the back. The douchebag started to say shit to me. I warned him. My cousin then warned him. My cousin’s girlfriend then warned him. He kept on running his mouth. We all knew what was going to happen next. As we drove through a tunnel I lunged half way over the backseat and started to strangle him. I latched on with a kung-fu death grip! My cousin’s girlfriend was all over the road in the tunnel. Her friends and my cousin tried to pull me off him to no avail. Finally we got out of the tunnel. She pulled over. My cousin ran out and grabbed my feet to pull me out of the car. Just in time too. He was on his last breath. Good times. Last time I ever tried to drink a whole keg by myself.
7. Removed pothole signs and caused a lot of damage
I had a job in college where I designed all different types of signs. One night, myself, my buddy, my cousin and his girlfriend got smashed. The 4 of us couldn’t find anything to do so we played Asshole. With a giant bottle of SoCo. We played like 5 hands and got absolutely smashed! We went for a walk around school looking for some shit to get into. We walked by a bunch of signs in the road and we started to throw them over the fence. Just because. A few minutes later we heard a slam. Then another. And another. A hubcap rolled by us. We turned around and 8 cars had flat tires. Turns out those signs were there to warn drivers about the giant construction holes in the road. Better yet, turned out that I made those same signs earlier that day in work. D’oh!
6. Took baseball bat to buddy’s car
Every year my buddy would throw parties at his house when his parents went on vacation in the Summer. One night I got absolutely hammered and backed out of the driveway into my other buddy’s car like 6 times in a row. I laughed. Hey I was drunk. And we both drove shit boxes. The next day my buddy decided to get back at me and gently backed into my shit box with his shit box for some innocent playful payback. I didn’t appreciate that. So as all of our friends watched, I got out of my car, looked at my car, there was no damage but the fact that he had the balls to do that drove me insane. I went to my trunk and got my trusty baseball bat. I chased him. He ran into his car. Locked the door. So I baseball batted the shit out of his car. He struggled to start his car up. Finally he did. As he sped away I threw the baseball bat at his car. I missed and it slammed off a parked car. The neighbor’s parked car. Who had just saw what had transpired and didn’t say a word to any of us out of shock and fear for her life.
5. Unintentionally threatened old lady with “The Club”
I commuted to college. I would park my car on a side street near the train station and take the train into school in downtown Boston. I came home from class one day and found a giant note on my windshield. It said, “Stop fucking parking your car here in front of my house every day. I’ll kick your ass.” I looked at the house I was parked in front of. Read the note again. Crumpled it up. Dropped my book bag. Took “The Club” off of my steering wheel and used it to knock on the door of the house. An old lady answered. “Yes. Can I help you?” she said. I said “Who left this note on my car?” She said “What note?” I said “The one threatening me. Was it your son?! Do you have a son???” She said “Yes. But he’s not home.” She was scared. I said “Well I’m going to kill him when he comes home.” I held my red “Club” up to the door to let her know I meant business. And nodded. She slammed the door while saying “Oh Jesus. I’m calling the cops!” I didn’t want to deal with the po-po so I left but planned on coming back for my revenge. I went home and called my cousin and told him the story. He laughed his ass off. More than usual after I told him one of my asshole moments. I said “What’s so funny? Somebody’s gonna die.” He said “T. I left the note on your car!” Son of a bitch. That poor old lady.
4. Provoked my boss to the point where he tried to assassinate me
When I was 15 I had a Summer job where I got paid shit money to clean up our neighborhood of East Boston. My cousin was 13 and he and I managed to get onto the same crew. We hated it. We hated the other kids we worked with. They hated us. We mostly hated our boss though. He was an alcoholic and my cousin and I fucked with him every day. He tried telling us what to do but we never listened. So one day he had enough. He made us get into his car and dropped us off by ourselves away from the rest of the crew. He handed us some weed whackers and rakes and threw some garbage bags into the middle of the street next to us and told us to clean the backyard of a crack house. He pointed to the middle of the street and said “Don’t move. Stand right here. In the street. I’ll be right back.” He drove away. Confused, my cousin and I looked at each other. Dropped the tools in the street. I said “Fuck him. We ain’t doing shit.” My cousin laughed and we walked to the curb and took a much needed break. As soon as we did that, a car zipped up the one way street and another car zipped down it. The two of them collided head on where we were told to stand! The two drivers looked at us and sped away. Leaving metal debris, gas, oil and shit everywhere. We couldn’t believe what just happened! My cousin goes “Holy shit! What the fuck just happened?!” I said “I’ll tell you what happened! Our fucking asshole boss just tried to have us killed!!! That was a hit gone bad!” Then our boss pulled up. He said “What happened here?” I said “You know what happened motherfucker. You tried to kill us. I’m onto you, you son of a bitch.” He looked at me and said “Clean up this mess.” And drove away. My cousin and I picked up one of the car bumper’s and threw it through the crack house window. Then hurled the tools. Then we went home for the day and split a sub. Like it was just another normal day for us.
3. Totaled my car on a rampage filled night
Long story short. I was 18. I packed my car with my buddies. We drove to the mall. Got drunk outside of the mall. Fought security guards inside of the mall. And outside of the mall. Got questioned by the police. We then went to the high school dance of some chick I was kicking it to and my cousin started waiving a gun out the car window as we did donuts in the parking lot. My other buddy was doing donuts as well. I cut him off. He crashed into a snow bank. We laughed. We went to Papa Gino’s. My buddy rapped Wu-Tang on the “Table 9, your pizza is ready” microphone at the front counter. We got kicked out. We went next door to Friendly’s. The girl working alone had to pee. We told her we’d watch the place. We stole all 25 of the “Happy Birthday” ice cream cakes out of the freezer while she peed. We went back to the car. Threw the cakes at every single person and thing we saw on the highway. Then as we headed back home to East Boston, we saw a kid we didn’t like walking alone. All of our heads were turned watching him as we contemplated killing him. SMASH!!! A lady blew a stop sign and crashed into us! My shit box car was totaled. We got out of the car like a pack of hyenas and jumped onto her hood. We didn’t know there was a lady inside. We calmed down once we saw her crying. Another guy got out of his car and yelled at us. We went after him like maniacs. He left. The cops came. We hid the weapons. The cakes. The booze. We were all actually injured but we didn’t want any problems with the law on paper, because we were asshole punks and some of us weren’t supposed to be there. A cop wanted to drive my car to get it off the road. NOBODY drove my car but me. So I drove it a half mile home. Totaled. And wounded. What a night.
2. Left a family for dead to go eat a sandwich
I worked my ass off in college. I went to school full time. I paid bills around the house. Finally had a nice car at this point. Everything I had, I paid for on my own. I worked like 3 jobs. I stayed busy yo. It was finals. I had just taken my last final. Classes were done. All I wanted to do was get back to East Boston and get a delicious chicken parm sub from Sonny Noto’s, eat, then sleep. I got my sub and started to head back to my car. As I hit my car alarm to unlock the door, a car came flying down the street, hit a parked car, flipped over and landed upside down on the other side of the street on the sidewalk. I couldn’t believe what I just saw. It was the middle of the day. Nobody was around. I ran up to the car holding my chicken parm sub. There were four people in the car. No blood that I could see. The car wasn’t on fire or anything. I couldn’t smell gas. These are signs movies taught me to look for! But the people in the car couldn’t get out. They looked at me. I looked at them. I looked at my sub. They were yelling in Spanish. The woman yelled “Meester meester!”. I looked at my sub again. “Meester meester!!!” I knew that if I helped, I would never get out of there to eat my hot sub. The police, ambulances, fire trucks and news people would’ve blocked me in. I would’ve had to answer questions and shit. Would’ve been there for friggin’ hours! I thought about all this. Fuck that! I had no desire to be Superman that day. I wanted to be a hungry, tired college kid. I looked at them and said, “Look. I know you don’t understand me. But I’m hungry! And I’m tired. I have to go. You’ll be ok. I can hear the sirens now. I have to go. I want to eat my sub. Ok?” I held up the sub and showed it to them and gave them a thumbs up. They all looked at me. Confused. They watched me run to my car. I got in and as I pulled out, I rolled down my window and pointed down the street to let them know help was almost there. I gave them one more thumbs up. And a reassuring wink and a comforting smile. Then peeled the fuck out! I went home and ate my sub. Then I took a nice long nap. My mother later came home and said “Did you hear about that big car accident on Bennington street today?” I said, “Yeah. I was there. The whole thing happened right in front of me. I could’ve rescued some people. But I ate my sub instead.” My mother wasn’t shocked. At all.
1. Killed an old man
Technically, there isn’t any real evidence that I killed him. Per say. But when I was in college I had a great job working for a rent a car company. I got paid good money to drive new cars all day all over Boston and out-of-state. I was in a union and worked with a bunch of different guys. Some weird as hell. Mostly degenerates. And a lot of old guys. I used to bust everybody’s balls there. I mean to the point where management would have to step in. I was a real fucker. I busted one old guy’s balls so much that he died. Seriously. I busted his balls to death!!! His name was Angelo. He didn’t like my ball busting. So I would bust his balls even more. Then he told on me. I was mad. So I said to Angelo “You have no fucking sense of humor. You are a miserable old bastard. I hope you die.” The next day I came into work and was told Angelo had done just that. He died. My stomach dropped. I told an old man to die. And he actually died. That was assholeness at it’s most assholeness. I never ever told anybody to die again. That’s why this is #1. RIP Angelo. I hope you found a sense of humor in heaven. Or hell. ZING!
My asshole era. Did it. Learned from it. Made me a better man. My asshole era.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Does Niagara Falls in 3 Paragraphs” Post
Back to you fuckers!!!
*I’ve decided to do a series of blog posts that capture my travels throughout my life. In 3 paragraphs. I’ll post them every once in a while. Some places I’ve been to a few times, others only once. And some I will probably never go back to because of what went down there.
Niagara Falls is what I like to call “Frozen Vegas”. It’s kind of like a backwards, bizarro Vegas with lots of ice and those crazy oddball Canadians with their pretend Monopoly game money. But it has the casinos, the sports, the hotels, the gambling and of course the dirty ass strippers like Vegas. I’ve been to Niagara Falls on the Canadian side a couple of times. My sports buddies and I like to do our almost semi-annual trip to watch the Patriots shit all over the Buffalo Bills. We book the 3 day weekend getaway around the game but the game itself is such a small part. We used to stay in Buffalo itself but then we realized that Buffalo sucked. The team. The people. The city. All suck. There’s nothing there! So one year we decided to stay in Niagara Falls and that changed everything. Because that place is so weird but awesome!
Niagara Falls itself is just a giant stupid hole with water. Seriously. And nobody goes over the damn thing in a barrel! I was pissed when I found that out! Fucking rip off. All you do is go over to the railing and look at the stupid water. That brings me no joy. Where the strippers at yo?! The only thing I liked doing was pulling a Bruce Almighty and saying to every stranger I met at that stupid hole “BACK TO YOU, FUCKERS!!!”. It was hilarious. All 200 million times that me and my buddies said it on the trip. Yeah. We were those annoying, drunken American sports guys. So what. We could kick all of Canada’s asses. But mostly before and after the annual trashing that the Pats give the Bills, we spend most of our time gambling, drinking and at strip clubs.
Vegas may have hotter strippers, but in Canada these crazy Canadian chicks work hard for that Monopoly money. And us drunken Americans for some reason don’t acknowledge pink and teal bills with chickens and riverboats on them as real money. So we just stupidly give that shit away. I won’t get into it here. Again, Bro Code. But these strippers do some awesome acrobatic nasty moves for that money. And that alone is pure entertainment. Factor in the money you just won at the casino and the joy of being in another country where everybody says “Eh” and “Aboot” after watching your team kick some ass, you got yourself one hell of a guys 3 day sports weekend baby! Niagara Falls is an entertaining yet weird place and I enjoy myself every time I go there. Because having fun on a guys trip is what it’s all aboot. But I love Boston the best. Eh.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Social Media-I’m All Set” Post
Enough!!!
I usually write t-blawg posts months out in advance. In case you were wondering about the method to my mad….um awesomeness. But I’m writing this one fresh and off the cuff. I need to address something that has been bothering me. You see, I was raised Catholic. I’m Italian. So. But I’ve grown a disdain for all organized religion and all the bullshit that comes along with it. I’m not getting into it here. This is t-blawg. We all know what you came here for. So let’s just say that I don’t really partake in religious activities. I haven’t in years. But for some reason I decided to give up something for Lent this year. And what I’ve given up is social media. That’s right. Well mainly I’ve given up Facebook and Twitter. Why social media you say? Why not sports? Women? Being awesome? Because that shit would just be impossible! No social media for 46 days? That I can do.
As much as I enjoy social media, I chose to give up the Big 2 for the duration of Lent because I just can’t fucking take people on Facebook and Twitter anymore! All they do is talk about stupid shit. About what they’re constantly doing at every given fucking second. What they’re eating. Why their job sucks. Who they hate. Why they hate them. Every second. “Eating a bagel”. Every second. “This Bachelor this season is an asshole!” Every second. “My commute was brutal again today!” Every second. “Why am I still awake right now?!” Every second. Joe Fuckface Just Checked into CVS…Just Checked into The Gym…Just Checked into His Work….Just Checked into His House….Just Checked into Rehab. Mary NeedleTits is now the Mayor of Whoreville…Mary NeedleTits Just Opened Her Legs Badge…..WHO GIVES A FUCK?! You have a lot of balls thinking each one of your friends, family members and followers want to know this stupid shit every single second. ENOUGH! I need a break from it all. Social media was intended to connect people. Introduce you to new products. Entertain you with information that you can share with others while growing in a positive direction. YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!!! This is not interesting. It’s not entertaining. And don’t give me that, “Just turn off their updates” bullshit. Because if we do that to each other, then what’s the point of even being Facebook friends? If we turn each other off, then we might as well delete each other I say. And how the hell are you living and enjoying your life when you’re constantly updating your shit while you’re out and supposed to be having fun?! How about you try focusing more on your social life, not your social media life ok? Or take that shit and go to the social media sites out there made specifically for stuff like that. Like here where you can vent about your job. Great site! ;). But keep it off the Big 2 for fucks sake.
So for 46 days I’m not partaking in it. I know. I know. So many of you love my Facebook updates and awesome tweets but you’re going to have to live without good old T for awhile. For 46 days I will not go on any of my personal or t-blawg Facebook pages or Twitter accounts. I’m on a damn sabbatical. I’m only going to post my world-famous and beloved blog posts every Monday until April 24th. Easter Sunday I’ll make my epic return to the world of social media. If you know me in the real world and need to get me, pick up the phone. I certainly won’t answer. But it’ll make my cold little heart feel good. Or text me. Or just make an attempt to see me in person! Get off Facebook. Get off Twitter. Stop it. And if you only know me on here, then submit a comment. I’ll answer. I’m hoping that when I come back things will be different. Or at least I’ll be a little more tolerant. Or a bunch of people will have deleted me, doing my ass a favor! But until then, as far as social media goes for the duration of Lent, I’m all set.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “When a Guy is Sick Guide” Post
I'm sick. Go home.
A guy will kill a spider for you. A guy will open a door for you. A guy will wait 9 hours for you to get pretty. A guy will run around in mall and errand hell for you while you get your shit done. A guy will listen to you as you complain about your girlfriends, co-workers, invisible love handles, the wrong Dancing With The Stars elimination, how your family is trying to vote you out of it, how your kickboxing class being cancelled messed up your month…we’ll do anything. We’ll be there. We care. No really. But when a guy is sick? All that shit goes out the window! And IF YOU WON’T TAKE CARE OF US, LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE!!! Real men are tough. Loyal. Caring. Fun. But when we’re sick? We are the biggest cry babies in the world! I’ll go on record on this right here! Guys handle most things in life pretty fucking well, but when it comes to being sick, we suck. Women handle being sick way better than us. We need attention. We need to be served on hand and foot. I know. It’s sad. But true. But if you can’t help make us better, then stay the hell away until we get better because we are real fuckers when we’re sick. We hate you. We hate ourselves. We hate everything.
I’m a healthy guy. I never get sick. I go 18 hours a day. Gym, work, women, networking, sports games, running around Boston…daily. I’m a beast. But I have a good diet and a great immune system. And I heal fast as fuck. I’m like Wolverine. Seriously. But I always get a bad cold once every 2 years like clockwork. It never fails. But I always try to stop it before it becomes a full-blown cold. I need 48 hours to nip this shit in the bud. And if I don’t catch it, I know I will turn into Miserable Fucker T. Because I’m the biggest asshole on the planet when I’m sick. I don’t want to be bothered. Just give me my couch, my TV and a bunch of soup, juice and tea. If you’re not playing nurse then don’t call me. Don’t text. Don’t stop by. I’ll only talk to my mother, sister and my cousin/best pal. So I can act like a baby on the phone and tell them how sick I am. Yep. Pathetic. I know. And every guy is this way when they’re sick. If they say otherwise, they’re lying douches. I know other guys are this way too because when a buddy is sick I’ll fuck with them to come out. They’ll text back “Dude! You know I’m sick! WTF?! Stop asking me to come out. Shit.” Haha. Because I do that too. We have to let the whole world know we’re sick.
So if I can’t nip my sickness once that itchy, scratchy thing in the back of my mouth starts happening with my Emergen-C, Airborne, Vitamin Water self medicated combo in the first 48 hours, here’s what a woman can do to help a sick man without getting hit with our sick guy asshole wrath. At this time I only love my couch and pillow. Not you. Sports Center is now my second love. Maybe a movie like Heat or Goodfellas will cheer me up if you put it into the DVD player for me. Don’t ask how I’m feeling more than once. Don’t touch my remote control. Don’t cuddle with me on the couch. Get oooofffff! You can try making me soup. But like 9 different kinds of varying temperatures until I try each one and pick the winner after you test feed them to me. Fluff my pillow. Gently. Please don’t talk. At all. Just nod with consoling sympathy puppy eyes. Then get out. You can’t stay. I’ll call you when I have the strength to press my thumb again. Don’t dare call me! I will smash my phone! In about 3 days, I’ll be back to normal. Being the manly man who you like again. And let’s never talk about how much of baby I was while I was sick ever again. Not to each other. Not to anybody. This is key. Now you know how to handle a guy when he’s sick.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “meTaphor-Mini Cereal 6 Pack” Post
Cereal 6 pack....a meTaphor
*Metaphor is the concept of understanding one thing in terms of another. A metaphor is a figure of speech that constructs an analogy between two things or ideas; the analogy is conveyed by the use of a metaphorical word in place of some other word.
This is how T does metaphors. Read between the lines.
Welcome to meTaphor.
Mini Cereal 6 Pack-A meTaphor
When I was a little kid my mother would sometimes buy those mini cereal 6 packs instead of normal cereal. I don’t know why. But I always had the same reaction to each one of these mini boxes of cereal found in the kitchen cabinet. As an adult, I still have the same reactions. But they are no longer cereal. This isn’t cereal. This is something else.
The cereal?:
1 was/is your favorite
No matter what, you always go back to it. You can depend on it. It’s always there. It tastes the best. You can’t picture life without it. You push all the other cereal aside to get to it.
1 you always wanted to try but just never did for some reason
It was always there. Off to the side. Next to your favorite. But you could never find it in yourself to try it. And you never knew why.
1 was/is somebody else’s favorite so you never got to have it
You wanted to try it so bad. But somebody else always got to have it instead of you. It ate you up inside. If only you got to try it first. If only it was your favorite instead of somebody else’s. It will never know how bad you wanted to try it.
1 looked crazy as hell so you stayed away from it
It didn’t seem right. It didn’t look right. It didn’t feel right. The package scared you. Your instinct, your inner voice always said to stay away. And you knew you should and always will.
1 was/is only your favorite once your favorite wasn’t there
You already had your favorite. Or your favorite wasn’t around. But this one was. Your backup plan. But that’s all it will ever be. Just second best to your favorite. You felt wrong. But you’ll never change for it. And it knows that.
1 you just tossed into the trash for no reason whatsoever just because you could
You treated this one without a care in the world. Without remorse. No love for this one. You just threw it away. Just because. You didn’t want it. Nobody wanted it. It didn’t feel good or bad to treat it this way. You just couldn’t care either way. Why keep it around when nobody wanted it?
That was a meTaphor. Trying something new here. Don’t complain if it’s over your head.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Wing Man/Woman Limbo” Post
Wing Limbo in no joke!!!
So I’ve talked about being a wing man before. It’s something we’re all familiar with right? A role played when we’re out with our friends having a good time and looking to meet somebody. Somebody has to take one for the team. Talk up your pal. Be nice to the pals of the person he or she is talking to. Notoriously named after Maverick, Goose and Ice in the movie Top Gun. Seen in bars, clubs and lounges on any given night across the world. It’s known. It’s established. It’s always talked about. But there is something that happens every once in a while that is well, different. What I want to talk about here is “Wing Man/Woman Limbo”. What’s that you say? No it doesn’t involve bending your body under a pole to island music. It’s more like the “Non-Wipe Wipe”. You know. When you wipe with the toilet paper and nothing’s there. It’s like a weird ass miracle! It’s not supposed to happen. Something is supposed to be there! But all you can do is wonder what just happened? It’s never talked about. And it happens once in a blue moon. Just like “Wing Man/Woman Limbo”.
The “Wing Man/Woman Limbo” scenario happens 1 out of 100 times of going out with your friends. Trust me, I’ve done research. This is t-blawg. “Wing Man/Woman Limbo” is weird. It’s different. And it doesn’t make you any less of a wing man/woman. It doesn’t make you any less of a friend. It just sucks when it happens because you can’t figure out why. Here’s what happens. Your friend meets somebody. They have a friend. You’re your friend’s friend. There are 4 of you. Your friend and the person they just met hit it off. Now it’s just you and the hit off person’s friend. Now, as a wing man/woman this is the part where you do what a wing man/woman is supposed to do. If you are both attracted to each other, great. I don’t need to explain what happens. It’s a given that you will probably get some action too. Bonus. And if you think that person is busted, miserable, annoying, stupid, whatever, you just have to entertain them long enough until your friend does his/her thing. That’s their bonus. And you did your job. But what happens when nothing happens at all??? No attraction. No not being attracted. No liking. No hating. No talking. No dancing. No anything. Just awkward silence. This is “Wing Man/Woman Limbo” my friends. And it sucks.
This happened when I was out with a buddy recently. My buddy and some chick hit it off and started to talk. Flirt. Laugh. Touch. Drink. Her friend and I just moved to the side in silence. No introductions. No head nods. No hand shakes. She wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t attractive. She didn’t talk. I didn’t talk. And neither one of us could leave because wing people don’t do that! We were obligated to our friends. We were also obligated to not be rude to each other because we would then have to tell our friends how much his/her friend sucked. We couldn’t go back to our friends who were having fun because then we would be c-blockers. We couldn’t hit on other people. We couldn’t dance. We couldn’t look at our phones. All we could do was look around and wonder why the hell neither of us didn’t wanted to talk to each other!!! All we kept doing was looking around the bar trying to avoid each other’s eye contact. Both silently wondering why we don’t want to talk to each other. What was the reason? I DON’T KNOW!!! Finally our friends came back over. They exchanged numbers. My buddy said “How was the friend? She was cute.” I didn’t have an answer. And I didn’t want to explain my time in “Wing Man/Woman Limbo”. All I could say was “She was ok. Nothing special.” And it was over. I now have 99 more times of going out with my boys before this happens to me again. And just like a prisoner says after getting out of prison “I’m never going back.”
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Dating Arsenal” Post
He needs a dating arsenal
Over the years I have accumulated a lot of knowledge on dating, hooking up, booty calling etc. And somewhat relationships. But all the other shit, I got it down. And through all that, the good, the bad, the ugly, my accomplishments and mistakes have given me a lot of tools to use. I call them my “dating arsenal”. There are a lot of tools in my dating arsenal. I’ve blogged about my stacked Bullpen. And my MIRACLES method. But they are just a part of my arsenal. My arsenal also includes my spots around Boston (places that I go to and know inside & out); Good sports games tickets (always impressive on women who never make it to games); Where I live in town (a great place near a bunch of hot spots and Fenway Park is my backyard); and Who I know (connections that get me what I need on dates including but not limited to nice tables, bottles, skipping lines etc.). I also have my style: How I dress; How I act; How I talk; How I look. Also what I do for a living. How I do it. Why I do it. My personality. My sense of humor. My charm. All these things are a part of my dating arsenal. Every guy has one. It’s what helps us get through dating! Helps us meet quality women. Helps us filter out the shit. Helps us get sex. And all these weapons in my dating arsenal I put into use when I get to the “T’s 3 Step Dating Process”.
What the hell is “T’s 3 Step Dating Process”? Glad you asked! The 3 Step Process occurs after the first meeting of a woman. Sometimes after a few casual meet ups for drinks. A few fun times out. The process is for dating. Not for banging! I’m talking when I want to date a woman I like. Who actually likes me back. Who I have respect for. A genuine interest beyond just sex. Get it? And these dates are real dates. Never day dates. Day dates/lunches/drinks are for friends, family, work contacts. You’re a man. You have balls. Use them. All dates should take place at night! The process should only occur Thursday through Sunday. Trust me. It lets her know you like her and you are taking her seriously.
Ok. So now you know about the tools. The first meeting has already taken place. The interest is there. And at this point it’s about more than sex. All this leads up to the 3 Step Process.
Step 1. The Qualifier (Date 1):
We already know each other a little. We both have interest. An attraction. I asked her out on a real date and she accepted. This first date needs to be very casual. Light. A light meal. I really know about the place we are having the date at. The menu. The atmosphere. The history. The staff. It must have good lighting so we can see each other. Look into each other’s eyes. See each other smile. That’s why movies suck for a first date. Always pulling a few things out of the arsenal. Shoot one of my Bullpen chicks a text with any questions when she’s in the bathroom for a female’s point of view when needed. This date should also be very fun. Lots of asking questions and really caring about her answers. After a fun night, bring her home and send her on her way with a kiss on the cheek. A little long hug. Done. Send a follow up text. Hope she wants another date.
Step 2. The Interest Insurer (Date 2):
If The Qualifier went well for both of us then it’s onto the Interest Insurer. Which is basically finding out if every connection and interest from The Qualifier is still there while still learning more about each other. Hey, like I said, it’s a process. This date should include a nice meal. A conversation that builds on all those career, friends, family, likes, dislikes and life ambitions that were learned about in the first date. More eye contact. Get a little closer. More easy touching. Now remember, you’re only doing all this shit if this stuff is happening naturally! Yeah I know it sounds too planned and detailed but you can’t plan attraction and interest. This is an outline. The real shit happens when two people like each other. Don’t force it. If what you had in date one isn’t here, then end the night early. Be honest. But if it’s going well then keep it spontaneous. After the meal it’s time for a romantic walk and talk! I’ll put my arm around her. Her reaction to this says a lot. Our conversation alone as we stroll through the Boston Commons or Boylston and Newbury streets is key. This filters her out even more. This also filters me out for her. This night, if it goes well, should let us both know how we are starting to feel and what we’re thinking. A kiss is key. Her lips are the final telltale. Only kiss chicks you like bro.
Step 3. The Closer (Date 3):
Few get here. Seriously. My interest and lifestyle barely allow me to get past the Interest Insurer. Hey, that’s just the way my life goes sometimes. That’s why I’m good at the hooking up and not so much on real relationships. But I’m improving! Also, I’m still looking for better quality women. You read this right? Anyways, if we get through the first 2 steps/dates then that means it’s time for The Closer! At this point, she knows what’s up. I know what’s up. We’re interested. We’re attracted. We’re liking. We’re dating. We’re horny! Bust out the fancy restaurant. Bottles of wine. Maybe champagne. She’s in a dress. I’m suited up. Less talking here. Our bodies are doing a lot of talking for us. How we look. How we smile. How we sound. How we breathe. How we eat. How we drink. You know the deal people! After dinner, a separate place for dessert. Most likely Finale. Share a piece of chocolate cake and 2 glasses of port to wash it down. Sitting close. Hand is touching the bare leg. A couple of dirty cute questions. Feeding each other. Reaching in for long kisses. Time to go. CHECK PLEASE! Back to my place. Quick 7 second tour. Possibly some Jodeci on the surround sound. If I even make it there. Because now we’re all over each other. To the bedroom. CLOSED.
I just disclosed my dating arsenal. But trust me, you’re own should work for you. If you need to change yours up then swap out some of my tips and techniques. Remember, this is for dating a woman you honestly like. Not for dating a drunk slut at the club. I’m using my dating arsenal more and more the older and smarter I get. Which I like. I hope this was helpful, if not, I don’t give a shit. It works for me.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Does New York City in 3 Paragraphs” Post
Shady street vendors were my favorite
*I’ve decided to do a series of blog posts that capture my travels throughout my life. In 3 paragraphs. I’ll post them every once in a while. Some places I’ve been to a few times, others only once. And some I will probably never go back to because of what went down there.
This is the big one! This Boston guy does New York City. What is my take on NYC? It’s one big contradiction really. From how it started for me to how I feel about the city today and everything in between. I started going down to NYC when I was 16 years old. My cousin and I spent many Summer weekends there getting into shit during our mid to late teen years. Even with the Boston/NY rivalry between the cities’ teams and people, we really enjoyed going to this version of NYC. The New York City I’m talking about was old school, more dirty than it is now, before Giuliani cleaned it up, before Snoop came through and crushed the buildings, before Gotti went in the can, when Pac & Biggie were beefing and you could get anything new and/or bootlegged on any street corner New York City! We went down to NYC for fun, money-making schemes and a shit load of trouble. And by trouble, let’s just say one of those 7 famous incidents where I should’ve died took place in NYC. In the back of a shady restaurant. Over some stupid shit. Fun. But very stupid.
The first time my cousin and I got off the Greyhound bus we immediately went looking for bootleg Rolex watches and bombarded a businessman holding a briefcase standing at the corner. We slapped the briefcase asking “Watchu got in there man?!” He thought we were trying to rob him because he ran. Guess he worked on Wall St. and wasn’t a street vendor. Our bad. I blame movies and rap music for my first impressions of NYC. I used to go down there and treat the city like it was my own personal playground. At that time you could walk into a liquor store and buy 40s and drink them in Times Square out of paper bags at the ages of 14 & 16 while ordering food in a McDonald’s. I know this because that’s what my cousin and I did. Boy did people stare. Another time we also managed to eat and drink for free by putting our tab on some couple’s bill at the All-Star Café. That place was like Planet Hollywood but with athletes. We Beantown hustled that one. Another time we stayed at the Millennium and had “hot” calling card numbers to which we used to call everybody back home in Boston. Our other buddies came down the next day and we robbed the hotel’s liquor cabinets and drank booze and ate fancy cheeses all the way back home on the bus to Boston. I don’t know why honestly.
While there are many more experiences that were also insane during those dirty teenage NYC years, things changed the older I got. Those trips were replaced with business trips and sports trips once I graduated college and entered corporate America. NYC itself changed. In my eyes, it became very corporate, gimmicky and overrated. Boston’s teams and the city of Boston itself came up and the rivalry grew. I hated this “new” New York. That is, up until this past January. I went down to NYC to see a good friend. One of my “Bullpen” girls. She took me around the city to some fun spots. With some of her great friends. During a Jets/Colts playoffs weekend mind you! And you know what? I had a great time. Yep. I did. Not ashamed to admit it. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was the cool people I met. Maybe it was the good food and lots of booze. Maybe it was me getting older and not holding onto grudges. I don’t know. All I do know is, this Boston guy has to admit that he kind of likes New York City. But I love Boston the best.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Finally! T Returns to Social Media!!!” Post
Needed a T sabbatical
My social media Lent sabbatical was March 9-April 24 2011. I was sick of Facebook and Twitter. People were annoying me. So I took a break. For 46 days! I’m a man of my word. And I don’t lie. For 46 days I stayed off the Big 2! But a lot has happened in the world in those 46 days. Important things. Big things. Stupid things. Regardless, all things that T would usually have a Facebook update and/or tweet ready to go to entertain the world like only T can! Here’s what went on and what I would’ve said on Facebook or Twitter at the time. In chronological order.
Tom Brady Dancing at Carnival Awkwardly in a Ponytail-”You’re killing me Smalls!”
Pope John Paul Got a Facebook Page-”I’m not liking this page until he puts up pics of a pimped out Pope Mobile. Put some Ds on that bitch!”
Charlie Sheen Announced His Tour-”If I buy tickets and he’s dead come show time I better get a damn refund. And you know this is going to suck right? RIGHT?! #justsaying”
People Playing Out Charlie Sheen-“All you assholes who are over using winning and tiger blood really fucked up a funny thing. Good job you unfunny, unoriginal dopes.”
The Earthquake and Tsunami-”This is insane. It’s getting tougher and tougher to debunk all those end of the world predictions made years ago by idiots. Scary.”
Gilbert Gottfried Fired By Aflac for His Tasteless Earthquake and Tsunami Comments-”Tasteless? Yes. But should he have been fired? No way. He’s a raunchy comedian. They knew that before they hired him. It’s not like it was Obama doing the duck voice and then tweeted those jokes. They knew what they were in bed with. Now there’s hope Ben Affleck can finally do the duck voice.”
14th Anniversary of the Death of The Notorious BIG-”Thumping “Ready to Die” and “Life After Death” non-stop! Baby Babaay! #nowplaying”
NFL Lockout-”Sundays suck now without football. Imagine come September through February? This is some bullshit. I blame the Jets. Go #Pats!”
Battle Los Angeles-”A poor man’s Independence Day meets Cloverfield. No story. Every stereotypical military movie character. And you never see a clear shot of the aliens. Stupid. But the shooting was done Saving Private Ryan style. Only highlight.”
The Bachelor Finale-”Ever notice how every women who claims she doesn’t need or want a man is so invested into this show? Hmmm. #denial #stoplying”
Snooki at Wrestlemania-”Is she fighting that dude that punched her off the stool?! If so I’m totally watching wrestling like it was 1988 again! Holla!”
Chicks Who Quote Snooki-“Speaking of Snooki. I don’t care how hot you are. If you’re quoting Snooki on #facebook and/or #twitter, you have nothing to offer the world. Or me. #justsaying”
Nate Dogg Died-”Somebody had to regulate. His name was Jesus. I’ll pour some out for you homie. At least Warren G can now restart the G Funk era.”
American Pie 4-”The entire original cast is returning. That’s crazy! How?! They’ve all become such busy superstars though since the last one! Oh wait.”
Rebecca Black-“I hope she and #JustinBieber get Japanese radiation poisoning. My fucking ears! #notnowplayingever”
St. Paddy’s Day-”Getting shit faced! Partying so hard right now!!! Um no. I’m a grown ass Italian man who’s lived in Boston his entire life. I don’t partake in amateur hour.”
Limitless-“A writer and a cocky asshole? I’m suing somebody. Decent flick though. Except the last 2 minutes. The movie’s screenwriter called the ending in.”
Twitter Turns 5 Years-Old-“5 years of making celebrities think they are more important than they really are while making everybody else dumber 140 characters at a time. #happybday #twitter”
Elizabeth Taylor Died-“I thought she died in 1990 so I didn’t have her in the celebrity death pool. Fucking Lindsay Lohan and Charlie Sheen better pull through ASAP!”
Boondock Saints 2-”Finally watched this sequel. Anybody from Boston who liked this piece of shit has never seen a good movie in their entire life. With the exception of a few exterior shots, this movie was not filmed in Boston just like the first piece of shit. It’s an insult to the accent, the city and it’s people. I might collect some dopes’ Boston cards on this. Disgrace.”
March Madness-“Rather spend my time on women. And making money. And not being a degenerate alcoholic gambler screaming about brackets. But that’s just me though. #marchmadness”
Libya-“Keep up the great work Obama. You’ll get a second term for sure. #sarcasmsomuch”
Lights Out Cancelled-“A boxing show with a shitty cast and a lame storyline gets cancelled?! No way!!!”
LOL and OMG Added to Oxford Dictionary-“I’m a grown ass man. I don’t use this shit. I use . #stupid”
Lindsay Lohan Now Just Lindsay-“Lindsay Lohan wants to be known by one name. Just Lindsay. I’m sure GingerWhore or NonActor are available still Lindsay.”
Sucker Punch-“Little Orphan Annie meets Watchmen=A Big Pile of Shit with Hot Chicks Who Can’t Act. #movies.”
Talking Twin Babies-“Best thing I’ve seen with them http://www.buzzfeed.com/gavon/twin-babies-talk-about-the-bronx-zoo-cobra”
New Wonder Woman-“See Megan Fox? If only you could act. And had normal thumbs. You would’ve been set for life baby. #callme”
Baseball Season!!!-“The #RedSox will win 100 games this season. Mark my words.”
Fuck Baseball Season!!!-“Unmark my words. After watching the first 3 games against the #Rangers, the #RedSox look like a bunch of assholes! New Sox. Same shitty pitching. #WTF”
The Boston Movie Trailer-“Best. Thing. Ever. http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/d41e5814a3/boston-movie-trailer”
Charlie Sheen’s Tour Sucks-“Of course it does. What the fuck did you think you were going to see?!”
Kurt Cobain’s 17th Anniversary-”Was never into grunge really. He was talented. But the man killed himself. I have no love or respect for anybody who commits suicide. He checked out on life because he was a pussy. Pathetic.”
Bill and Ted 3-“Oh for fucks sake Hollywood. Really?! #enough”
Possible Government Shutdown-“Wait. I thought the government shutdown in 2008??? When did they get back to work? Could’ve fooled me.”
The Red Sox Win-“Fucking finally! 156-6 baby!!! Wooooo!!!!”
Your Highness-“Pineapple Express and Lord of the Rings had a retarded baby. Awful. Kenny Powers and Natalie Portman’s sweet little ass couldn’t save this movie. And can somebody please banish James Franco from Hollywood?”
Boston Sports!-“The Sox are getting it together. Bruins playing Montreal in 1st rd playoffs. Celtics playing New York in 1st rd playoffs. It’s a great time to be a Boston sports fan!”
Scream 4-“Kevin Williamson is back at the genre he started and continuing the story. Nothing new but still decent. The best is how he makes fun of the whole reboot/remake/sequel phase Hollywood is in within a movie sequel making fun of a movie within a movie. Smart. And nicely done. Not sure how good the next 2 Screams will be though.”
4/20-“Anybody over the age of 22 celebrating this day and bragging about smoking weed is a complete fucking tool.” #fuck420
Easter-“The Easter Bunny didn’t bring you a stupid basket. He brought you the return of T. The gift that keeps on giving!” #finallyThasreturned
If you’re not a fan of the t-blawg Facebook page and you’re not following me on Twitter. You’re missing out! Because nobody does social media like T. Nobody!!!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Bro Strip Club Code” Post
Jessie Spano's speed addiction was supported by her stripping
First I gave you the rules of “The Bro Code”. Then I gave the world “The Bro Dress Code”. Now it’s time for the “Bro Strip Club Code”. The series continues!!! I don’t go to the strip club often. Usually only on a casino run, a bachelor party tear, a sports weekend getaway and of course Vegas. But last Winter I went on a tear with an old buddy. He was banging half the girls at a local strip club. He knew everybody there. We got comped. We got drunk. We had fun. We went way too damn much! And from this I noticed what really went down in a strip club for the first time ever. The ways of the strip club. The stereotypes. The types of strippers, workers and dudes that come in. That gave me some great insight. Through all that I created the “Bro Strip Club Code”!!! Here it is! Drum roll please…..
Strippers don’t get drunk so save your money man
Don’t buy them drinks! When she’s working you and you offer to get her a drink, the waitress brings her a “rum & coke” minus the rum. Really. Save your money for the lap dance.
Some strippers will bang for money so pay a lot and use a rubber dude
It depends on 3 things. The strip club, the stripper and how much you’re willing to pay. I have buddies who have done it. I don’t pay for sex so I can’t speak from experience. But it can be done. Just feel it out bro. And good luck with that STD. Because if she did it for you, you’re an idiot if you think she hasn’t done it before.
Strippers will break the rules for money depending on the strip club
In Boston we have a “no contact” lap dance rule. It sucks. But if you’re willing to pay and get out of sight, shit can happen. Again, bust out the chedda.
Strippers rather dance for good-looking dudes even though ugly dudes are willing to pay more
This is a fact. Go into a strip club with your ugly buddy, your fat buddy and your weird buddy. Just make sure you’re the good-looking one for fuck’s sake. Get a table. Watch who the strippers come to most. You’ll have your pick dude!
It’s creepy but you feel more with sweatpants if you have the balls to wear them
My buddy taught me this. I listened once and put on sweatpants at a strip club in Canada. After years of getting lap dances wearing jeans or suit pants, this was an experience. Try it at least once. Just be ready to be the creepy strip club dude that night. Really.
Only suckers sit at the pit
Don’t waste your time or singles. Let the drunk married businessmen, the foreigners visiting and the broke ass dudes drop money at the pit. You can get her once she’s done with her main stage dance and starts to work the floor. Be smart.
Don’t hit on the strippers, they’re working idiot
Seriously?! Are you still hitting on strippers?! Remember why you are there! She’s not some chick at a bar looking to meet a guy. She’s a chick trying to take all your money. Smarten up bro.
No she really isn’t digging you guy
It’s an act. She’s doing her job. DO NOT fall in love with the strippers. I don’t care how good-looking you are. How rich you are. And what she said to you. She ain’t digging you! Time to go.
The young ones are your best bets at some good action
They really are. They’re new. They don’t know the rules yet. They’re inexperienced at dealing with customers. Find a young one that almost fell like 5 times off the pole. Talk money with her. Go have fun.
No she isn’t really doing this to get through college; put her kid through school; or while working on getting her real estate license you dope
Fuck everything she said to you. Actually, try not talking during the lap dance. She knows why you’re there. Just get your jollies off. Don’t ask questions. Don’t tell her about yourself. Have fun. That’s it!
Honey isn’t her real name. Neither is Mary once she tells you it is
Don’t ask her what her real name is. She’ll never tell you. And honestly, why do you give a fuck?
Yes she will do more if you bring a chick in with you. A hot chick. And to her. Not you
I’ve done this. I’ve seen it. A bunch of times. Strippers are usually bi-sexual or completely lesbian. They love other hot chicks. Bring a hot chick with you and pay. Watch what happens. Thank me later.
The waitresses and massage girls are always hotter than the actual strippers
This is a damn bro fact! Every single time. Let them get you worked up and try to find a stripper that looks like one of them. Enjoy!!!
You are a douche when you ball up bills and throw them at the talent
They’re strippers yes. But they’re still women. And who the fuck are you to judge them and treat them like shit?! So don’t throw money at them like you’re pitching in the World Series. You’re a clown and deserve to get punched in your neck if you do this.
Nobody likes the stripper hog gang
The guy or group of guys who hog all the strippers are assholes. Hey assholes. Stop talking. Stop buying them drinks. Stop hitting on them. Because this is the #1 cause of brawls in the strip club. It pisses dudes off. We’re all there for the same reason. To have fun. So keep things moving. Don’t hog the fucking strippers!
What if a chick you know outside the strip club turns out to be a stripper?
This has happened to me before. More than once. And recently too. It’s awkward as hell! Just play it off like it ain’t no thang. If you’ve already seen her naked? Cool. Nothing new. If you haven’t? Well. Now’s your chance bro.
So there you have it. The “Bro Strip Club Code”. Now you know how to act and know what to do the next time you hit up the strip club. Respect the Bro Code. Respect the stripper. And respect your penis. Now go have some fun!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Signature Drink” Post
Blawg. T....blawg.
Every man should have a signature drink. Forget beer. Beer is beer. Everybody drinks it. You need to have your own mixed drink. A drink that your buddies know to order when it’s their round without asking you. A drink that your girl will make for you when you’re both having a bad day. A drink that your favorite bartender is already mixing for you as you approach the bar. Nothing fancy. It’s a “Something & Something”. But it’s your drink. Your pals don’t drink it. It’s YOUR signature drink. And you’re only allowed to change it every 4-5 years for only 5 times under the age of 40. That’s the rule. Why? Because I said so. Because after 40, you’re done anyways. Your ass should be home drinking beers while burping babies or drinking frozen fruity drinks that your wife keeps handing you to test before she drinks them for some reason. But until then, you must have a signature drink. Here’s the evolution of my signature drink.
First Signature Drink: Honcho Poncho & Vodka circa 1989
Yeah I know. Was I a baby when I started drinking? Close to it. I was close to a decade away from the legal drinking age. But T doesn’t follow regular man laws! Every Saturday morning my cousin’s mother would head to work and he’d call me up to come to his house and by 9AM our Saturday mayhem ritual had begun. It always started with what his mother had for alcohol under the kitchen sink. She never really drank it. When we did, we would just replace the booze with water once it was half empty. One Saturday my cousin pulled out a fruit juice called Honcho Poncho. The whole label was in Spanish. But it tasted good! We mixed in some vodka and drank. It was awesome. At that age, we thought it was awesome. What the hell did we know? We just knew we weren’t supposed to be drinking so we drank out of spite. Every Saturday. We would get our buzz on and then go cause mayhem at the local bowling alley where we were banned from the team league due to being too violent. Then go buy some baseball cards and trade them with old degenerate criminals hanging out in the card shop. Then get some pizza or subs before terrorizing other kids and local businesses. This went on every Saturday for like 3 years straight. At some point they stopped making Honcho Poncho. We both still look for it in supermarkets hoping it will return. But I guess Honcho Poncho & Vodka was my first signature drink.
Second Signature Drink: Bacardi Limon & Mountain Dew circa 1994
My second signature drink also came to be while boozing with my cousin. It was time for us to step up our drinking game because well, now I was driving. We could go to liquor stores! And in the city we lived in we managed to perfect the “Hey buddy”. This method is when you say “Hey buddy” to a nearby old degenerate looking to make a quick $20 when you ask him to go into the liquor store and buy you booze. So we would tell these degenerates to get us some “hard shit” and they would make an easy $20. One time a degenerate came out with Bacardi Limon. It was different. We went to the local White Hen and tried mixing it with everything in the store. But we found out that it went best with Mountain Dew. We found our new drink. This lasted into early college and led to many drunken crazy nights. And we drank this shit before it started to appear in any hip hop songs. Just for the record. Bacardi Limon & Mountain Dew. My second signature drink.
Third Signature Drink: Captain & Coke AKA Cuba Libre circa 1999
This was simple. I was now of drinking age and legally drinking at bars and clubs. Captain & Coke is pretty much every guy’s first legal age signature drink. Because it was well known and easy to order. Plus the club didn’t have any damn Bacardi Limon. So I just ordered a Captain & Coke. But then started calling it Cuba Libre just to mess with bartenders. Which was the same thing but with lime. Boom. My third signature drink and my first real man drink that I didn’t treat like a binge drink in hopes of getting black out drunk with some random slut in some random place.
Fourth Signature Drink: Tanqueray & Tonic AKA T & T circa 2003
Tanqueray & Tonic became my signature drink because of it’s name play. T & T. And I was T. I tried gin a few times before. But Tanqueray just looked and sounded fancy! So I ordered it in a lounge one time out with a chick. She asked if it was good. I said “Of course. This is my drink.” The gin was a deal closer. The name T & T was a perk. This was my true trademark signature drink.
Fifth and Final Signature Drink: Jack & Ginger circa 2008
In the Winter of 2008 I was just ending one hell of a great year. Business, money, health, writing, women, family and friends were all booming. BOOMING! Life was sweet. Everything I did was money. From 2006-2009 I was a beast. Couldn’t do no wrong. So I decided to try new things. One of them was a new drink. I tested at home. All different combos. Why? Because I’m a guy and guys do weird shit for no reason sometimes! I was never big on whiskey. And the T & T had worked fantastic for me. But I changed career paths, moved into town, changed a bunch of things for the better, so why not my drink? I mixed Jack Daniels with ginger ale. And it was like liquid candy. I stocked my bar. Ordered it everywhere I went. And true to form, in less than 3 months it became my signature drink. My James Bond martini. My final signature drink. Jack & Ginger. My boys. Women. Family. And the bartenders at my favorite spots all know it’s my drink. That’s how you do it. That’s how you should do it.
If you don’t have a signature drink. Get one. It says something about who you are. It shows class. A sense of wisdom. Like you earned it. It helps tell your story. If all you drink is “Whatever’s on tap” or “I’ll get what you’re drinking”. You’re not a man who has lived. Step up your drinking game. Get a signature drink. But it can’t be a Jack & Ginger. Because now the whole world knows that’s T’s signature drink.
What’s your “Signature Drink”? I want to know! Ladies too! Reply here on the site or on Facebook or Tweet me. I’ll answer. Because I always have something to say!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Boston Lucky 13 List” Post
Best of both worlds
So many people from Boston will tell you how great Boston is. And you know what? I’m one of them. You’d be hard pressed to find somebody who puts on for Boston more than me! You’ve been reading this blog right?! Remember posts like this? Or this?! And let’s not forget about the most famous and important blog post in blogging history (Look at that tweet count yo!) Everyday on Twitter and Facebook I put on for Boston. In my real life I put on for Boston. All my friends and family know I’m the go to Boston guy. I know what’s going on. I’m at the big games. I can get us into the hot spots. I know the people you need to know. I’m on the movie sets. At the big events. Out of town friends ask me about Boston all the time. Where to go. What to do. That’s me. That’s T. I’ve always been that guy. Always will be that guy. And I love it. I love Boston. I’m married to the city. My longest commitment. I’m not one to ever complain about her. Never threaten to leave her. Never leave her and then come back again like so many people do to her. Never love her from afar. I’m here. Living and loving Boston! Since birth. Until the day I leave this Earth. I’m more than a Sox hat. So. Some readers and friends have asked me for a while to write about the top things I love about Boston. That’s crazy! There’s so much! Where do I even begin?! So, I started a list. And this post came to be. I decided to do 13. Lucky number 13. I wanted to avoid the gimmicky tourist stuff. And the most common things that make usual obvious Boston lists. But there are so many things I love about Boston. So I just tried my best to make a list that covers all bases. All of T’s bases really. There is no way I can pick and list everything. So I picked 13 things I love about my city. And why. Here they are.
13. The Accent
The accent is our trademark. There is no other accent in the world like it. It’s either the greatest thing to bless your ears or the worst thing you have ever heard. Fact. And not one Boston-based movie has yet to really capture the accent. Come talk to me if you want authenticity. The accent will either capture your heart or make you want to punch me in my face. I’ll take either one.
12. Commonwealth Avenue Mall
The Comm Ave Mall isn’t a building with stores and a food court. No. It’s a string of little parks in the middle of Comm Ave that run the length of the neighborhood of Back Bay. Start at Mass Ave. and work your way down to the Public Gardens. 8 city blocks! It’s a thing of beauty. I’ve spent many mornings running it. Ran into Tom & Giselle. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. Saw Mel Gibson shoot a scene. Walked by Bruce Willis drinking coffee. Saw Obama drive by. Watched protesters march. Even saw bloody zombies crawl through once. Strolled through with beautiful women. Including one of my closest Bullpen ladies. We used to talk about life. And I’ve walked through with some beautiful little ladies, my nieces. Where we looked for ninjas and sang about our galoshes. Yes. Wait for that future Uncle T post! Anyways. Walk the Comm Ave Mall! Take in everything around you. Trust me here. T kids you not. It’s Boston at its best.
11. The Charles
The Charles is…well, the Charles. The Esplanade. The Hatch Shell. The River. The sailboats. The fireworks. The parks. The joggers. The bike riders. The view. The duck boats. The skyline. The sun rises. The smell. The sounds. Storrow Drive. The foot bridges. The people. The…Charles.
10. The History
Boston is one of the oldest cities in the world. A lot of events have played out in Boston throughout history. This isn’t a history class. This is t-blawg. But walk around the city. You’ll learn something every single place you go in Boston. I promise. I’m not just talking about the sights. I’m talking about the people. Walk through the North End and chat up an old-timer sitting outside on a bench. You’ll learn things that cannot be unlearned.
9. Museum of Science
I was a kid who paid attention on field trips. I loved learning. I loved being smart. I loved having fun. Still do. This is the best place to go for that. This is my Disney. In my backyard. I take my nieces here all the time as a cover story really. Because I really want to go more than them. I love the dinosaur. I love the electricity room. I love looking for the queen bee in the bee thing. I love the musical steps. This is one of my all time favorite places.
8. Downtown Crossing
Not the greatest part of Boston. It used to have a bad rap because of “The Combat Zone.” Which was full of crime during the 60s & 70s. But as a kid who grew up in the 80s & 90s, this was the part of Boston that people took the train into Boston to go shopping. The big Boston stores were here. Not so much now. But I remember taking the train in with my mother, grandmother, aunt and cousins. I walk through Downtown Crossing all the time, now that I live right in Boston. I think of those times when I was a kid every single time. It’s a time that is long gone, but great memories. This is old school dirty Boston.
7. The People
What can I say? We’re loyal. Honest. Hard working. Funny. Fast paced. Loud. Opinionated. Full of attitude. And look better from the inside looking out then to outsiders looking in. And we like it that way. No better people on the planet. You better believe that.
6. Whiskey’s on Sundays
Tons of places to drink in Boston. Tons of places to get cheap eats. Tons of places to watch the game. No place is better than Whiskey’s on Boylston St. on a cold Sunday afternoon during Pats season. No place. And I also used to get my drinks from Playboy’s Cyber Girl of Year! There’s always lots of smiles and high fives going around in this place. Boston pride baby.
5. Patriot’s Day/Marathon Monday
Patriot’s Day is Boston’s own private holiday. It’s also my favorite day of the year! Along with my birthday. On Patriot’s Day (not our football team by the way) you wake up early, get your day drinking going, go to the morning Sox game, watch the marathon in the early afternoon, do some midday house partying and bar hop into the night. Everybody is off from work. Everybody has a good time. It’s Boston at it’s best!
4. The Pru (The Prudential Building)
The Pru is a tourist attraction. Absolutely. But to me, when I’m out of town and I return back to Boston and get a glimpse of it either from a distance or up close, from an airplane or from the ground, I know one thing. I know I’m home. And I swear to you, that beautiful building is lit up and smiling at me every time.
3. Both Sides of Boston Harbor
I grew up in East Boston. Growing up in Eastie there weren’t too many beautiful things to see. It was a rough neighborhood and you got to watch and listen to airplanes come and go to and from better places. When I was about 9 years old the city of Boston built a harbor walk at the end of Eastie at the harbor. I used to walk it with my mother, aunt and cousins. When I got older, I used to rollerblade it with my cousin. At the end of the walk, you could see Boston. It was the most beautiful thing to see. Years later while working in Boston, I found myself walking behind the Aquarium and stumbled upon a giant compass painted on the ground. It was the Boston Compass Rose. It was at the end of the harbor. I looked across and could see East Boston. I could see exactly where I used to look from the other side. It is now the most beautiful thing to see.
2. Fenway Park
I’ve written about Fenway so many times in this blog. Fenway is Boston. Enough said.
1. East Boston
Really?! Eastie??? Number 1?! YES. It’s the part of the city that created me. My hood. For better or worse, Eastie will always be my home. As a grown man I can now appreciate the old, broken down Boston neighborhood that raised me. There’s some good people in that neighborhood. Some got out. Some still there. For you outsiders, it’s more than just Logan airport. More than a pizza place. More than a bad area to avoid. So much more. I’ll tell those Eastie stories one day. Until then, Eastie is and will always be #1 on my Boston list.
What does T love about Boston? Everything. Now you know at least 13 reasons why.
What do you love about Boston? Do you agree with this list? What else would you like for me to blog about when it comes to my great city of Boston? Reply here on the site or on Facebook or Tweet me. I’ll answer. Because I always have something to say!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “How T-Wood Save Hollywood” Post
T-Wood save the "biz"!
I’m breaking t-blawg form here. I want to write about something that isn’t the 3 paragraph style. Isn’t a usual yet T original top 10ish list. Isn’t about dating, women, Bro code, sports, Boston, social media, awesomeness, etc. I want to address something that is near and dear to me. And that is Hollywood. The movie biz. You see, I’m not only the most awesome blogger in the history of the whole entire internet. I’m not only a cool ass, sexy, Boston guy. I’m not only a social media maven. But I’m also a screenwriter. Not a paid screenwriter. I’ve been close to it a few times. Have some nibbles on my rod as I write this. Pun intended. But I’m still a screenwriter nonetheless. And as a screenwriter who has been in this game for a few years now, with an arsenal of movie & tv scripts and treatments, I have some serious opinions on the current horrible state of Hollywood and how to fix it. How? Well let me tell you! Hollywood, pay attention.
NO MORE SEQUELS!!!
A sequel for every damn movie that makes just over what it cost to make the original isn’t necessary Hollywood. A sequel should only be made if the writer, cast and crew will be able to continue the story and develop the characters. Don’t do it for an extra buck or two!
NO MORE REMAKES/REBOOTS!!!!
Hollywood likes a proven formula. A built-in audience. I get it. But for every “Dark Knight” there are 20 “A-Teams”. How do you not get this?! Try an original flick now and then.
WE NEED HOLLYWOOD EAST, HOLLYWOOD NEEDS BOSTON. SERIOUSLY.
Look at all the material coming out of Boston! Mystic River, The Fighter, The Town, The Social Network, The Departed, Paul Blart, 21, Fever Pitch, Grown Ups, Zookeeper, What’s Your Number?, Ted & Here Comes the Boom (filming right now) etc. Is this even a question? Forget about the economy, the current state of Hollywood and the first failed attempt at Hollywood East. This needs to happen. Get some major studios to throw in with some major Boston-based companies and form a group to get this thing going. ASAP.
TV NETWORKS NEED TO TAKE CHANCES
NBC is horrible. Must See TV is dead. CBS just spins off their shows. Fox is a junior reality show network. These channels need to take the chances that TNT & USA are learning from FX, HBO and SHOWTIME. Original material is out there, they just need the balls to make it.
PAID WRITERS NEED TO GET BACK TO REAL WRITING
Stop writing safe. Stop writing what you think Hollywood wants you to write. Write something amazingly original and grind until you convince the big wigs to produce. Hollywood needs you and all of you are already in. Remember that.
ACTORS NEED TO ACT, NOT BE CELEBRITIES
Get off of TMZ. Get off Twitter. Get out of the limelight. Act. The actor has been dead for a long time. The celebrity has been in control for too long. Go act your way to credibility again.
MOVIE TICKETS NEED TO BE CHEAPER!
Of course the cost to make movies has risen. So ticket prices must rise. Right. But asking audiences to pay insane prices for low quality movies will make them stay home and wait for the DVD, On-Demand or cable. Make a good movie and the people will pay. Duh.
DVDS MUST COME OUT MONTHS AFTER THE MOVIES. IT’S CALLED A GRACE PERIOD FOR A REASON.
The rush to put out a DVD weeks after the movie is in theaters is ridiculous. I want to want to buy the DVD because the movie was good enough for me to want to own. Not because the movie was mediocre and it’s now on the shelf at Target 2 weeks later.
STUDIOS NEED TO BE OPEN TO ORIGINAL MATERIAL. THIS IS A GIVEN!
Whether it’s from a current writer or somebody trying to break in, the “Not Listening to New Material Pitches” is horrible from both a business approach and shows that Hollywood is blind to the damage they are causing to the art form of great movie making. Listen to new pitches!!! Remember. There was a time when that franchise you have was an original idea pitched to you. Billions and billions of dollars ago. Stupid executive guy.
3D NEEDS TO GO AWAY. FAR, FAR AWAY.
I know it’s not. But how about we compromise. Only make a movie 3D if both the story and visual effects are equally great? Deal?
MAKE IT LAW: DIRECTORS CAN ONLY MAKE SPECIAL EFFECTS FILLED MOVIES ONLY IF THEY MAKE GOOD MOVIES FIRST
Show the audience you can make a good movie first with just a good script, decent cast and a regular camera, then you get to make your 200 million dollar end of the world 3D popcorn flick!
COMIC BOOK MOVIES NEED TO STOP. NOTHING NEW TO OFFER AT THIS TIME.
I waited for years for Hollywood to start making good comic book movies. They finally did. And then once they made some money, the floodgates opened and every single comic book and graphic novel got the green light to be made. Now it’s out of control. Just….stop. Not every comic book needs to be turned into a horrible, pointless movie. If the comic book is lame, what makes you think the movie won’t be as well?
THERE MUST BE GOOD MOVIES DURING SUMMER BLOCKBUSTER SEASON
How about this simple formula? For every 3 big budget popcorn flicks a studio puts out from Memorial Day until the end of August, they must put out an original, quality movie that isn’t a sequel, wasn’t made for over $60 mil and didn’t have a trailer during the Super Bowl. Deal?
REALITY TELEVISION NEEDS TO DIE!
That’s it. Period. Or, all the networks should throw money into creating one major network that only has reality shows. Take them off their current schedules and play them on that network 24 hours a day. With DVRs and advertisements, everybody will make money while the main networks can get back to original scripted tv shows.
NO MORE BIOPICS ABOUT KIDDIES LIKE BIEBER AND MILEY WHO HAVEN’T EVEN LIVED THEIR STUPID LIVES YET. REALLY?!
Stop it. No T explanation needed. Just stop it.
STOP BOOTLEGGING PEOPLE! PAY UP.
There are a million easy ways to bootleg things this day and age. I know. But just think about the people who aren’t making the big bucks. Who are just trying to pay their bills. Support themselves and their families. Don’t bootleg just because you can. Just pay. And enjoy the hard work of so many people trying to entertain you!
If Hollywood can address and make these changes, I GUARANTEE the “biz” and the world will be a better place! Trust me. As a writer, businessman and consultant extraordinaire gun-for-hire, I know my stuff. Listen to me now, then thank me later Hollywood. You can reach me here. I’m waiting.
What do you think??? Am I crazy?! Do you like what’s in theaters right now? Are you DVRing and watching shows you really love? I want to know! Hit me up here or on Facebook or Twitter!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Does Atlanta in 3 Paragraphs” Post
Patrón-We have a love/hate relationship
*I’ve decided to do a series of blog posts that capture my travels throughout my life. In 3 paragraphs. I’ll post them every once in a while. Some places I’ve been to a few times, others only once. And some I will probably never go back to because of what went down there.
I’ve been to Atlanta twice in my life. Both times were for a job training. I was stuck in a hotel with a group of 30 strangers from around the country with no means of transportation. So that meant we all had to hang out with each other and do things close to the hotel. I didn’t like that idea. I hate being secluded and I also hate being told what to do. But that was the itinerary given to us by the company we signed on to work for. It was the same month of June. I went down the first week and last week of the month and it was hot as balls. My knowledge of Hotlanta was that everything was owned by Ted fucking Turner and southern rappers at the time kind of sucked. That’s it. And being stuck in the hotel and its 2 mile radius did not broaden my ATL experience in any way that I had hoped. But being T, I adapted. I always find the fun. And when I can’t, I make it. Or destroy everything in sight while trying. It’s my motto.
There was a cute little young thang that worked the hotel front desk. She was the stereotypical southern gal. Blonde, sun dress, pearls, perky and had that southern drawl that made her sound almost retarded. But in a hot way. My accent and attitude combined with my in yo’ face, flirty yet insulting, city charisma charmed the shit out of her. We walked around the area at night and for the first time in my life I saw fireflies! Which I can only scientifically describe as an invisible drunk ghost trying to light his lighter! That shit was awesome. So, after some chicken fried steak and sweet tea (which is friggin’ delicious) I entrusted her to show me and my group of 30 weird ass strangers a good time. The closest thing to a good time in her big, southern blue-eyed slow brain was this giant barn like nightclub called “Big Roy’s Pig & Shit Barn” or something like that and it had…I kid you not…roller derby going on before it turned into a nightclub. Yeah. Roller fucking derby. Giant, butch females beating the shit out of each other on roller skates. I had never seen such a thing! And as you know from this blog, I done seen a lot in my time. Once they wiped the blood away the DJ came out and hundreds of people packed this place. Drinks were very cheap in Atlanta. And this is where I first had….Patrón.
Mixed drinks are about $10-13 in Boston. A shot of Patrón is about $11. In ATL a mixed drink was $3 and Patrón shots were $4. Now this was 2006. Patrón was only seen in like Lil’ Jon blinged out grails. In rap videos. We didn’t have Patrón in Boston at the time. It didn’t make it’s way up until about 6-8 months later. I really wasn’t a tequila fan at the time but I wanted to try it. My lady friend, my temporary former gang banger roommate from B-More and about half of the mentally challenged crew had already had it before. They were southern. I was Bostonian. We lined up the shots. And that was where my love affair for Patrón began. It went down easier than my southern hotel front desk girl. ZING! Nine shots later I was snapping my fingers to Lil’ Jon and dancing like an idiot on a blood stained roller derby rink yelling out “YEAH!” “WHAT?!” “OKAAAAY!” That was Atlanta for me. I came back to Boston and waited for the day that Patrón finally arrived. Atlanta is ok. It wasn’t the experience I wanted. I need to try it again. But it gave me Patrón and fireflies. For that I’ll always be grateful to the ATL. But I love Boston the best.
What do you think? Does this sound like Atlanta??? Should I go back?! What did I miss out on? Talk to me people!!! Hit me up here on t-blawg itself or on Twitter or on the Facebook page!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T-isms-Things Only T Says” Post
This whole damn blog is a t-ism! Keep stealing from it and...I won't sue. I will cut you.
Some people say I have a way with words. And I’m not just talking about my writing. I’m talking about my talking. My passion. My habits. My originality! I’m Italian. I love to talk. I’m from Boston. I have an opinion. And I say things a certain way. You remember this post? But I also have sayings. Things I say all the time. If you hang out with me for a night you would hear a lot of things you’ve never heard before come out of my mouth. Mostly original. Some familiar but with a T twist to them. Here are some of my long running and popular sayings. Which I dubbed “T-isms”.
I will cut you.-One of my favorites. Not used as often these days.
When somebody pisses me off I often find myself saying this to the person. Or to my buddies who have to calm me down. Because when I start talking about cutting somebody, somebody just might get cut. And I don’t even have a knife on me! That’s the funny part. It’s a representation really. Of what I might do. Because my closest people know I’m capable of almost anything! So at this point in the night, if somebody is pissing me off and I’m talking about cutting somebody, STOP GIVING ME SHOTS!!!
I said/wrote that. Steal it and I’ll sue.-Used way too often!
The things I say. The things I write. I talk. I text. I tweet. I facebook update. All original T copyrighted material. And SOOO many people rip off my shit without giving me credit. All the damn time. I constantly hear people using my jokes. Telling my stories as if they are their own. Saying my sayings. Using my facebook updates as their fucking own! I don’t mind people using my material. But quote the original source fucker! And that’s T!!! So sometimes I have to write or say “I said/wrote that. Steal it and I’ll sue.” after I put something out there just to let people know. Fucking crooks.
Slampig.-I avoid them now. But they’re still out there! Lurking.
I did not create this. I don’t know who did. Or when. All I know is, this word has been around East Boston for generations. Since it was Noddles Island I think. It describes a dirty chick who banged a bunch of dudes but is still hot looking and easily bangable. She’s a slampig. Used it all the time as a kid and teenager. Everybody from Eastie did. As an adult. With an education. With a good career. With a business. With nice things. I still use it. I brought it into my adult awesome Boston biz life vernacular. And I introduced it to a new group of friends and biz contacts. A new audience. A new world. And I’m damn proud of it.
My spots.-Almost every time I talk about some place I’ve been to more than once.
I frequent many bars, clubs, lounges, restaurants, gyms, movie theaters, businesses….whatever. Wherever I go, often, that place is my spot. I call it my spot. It’s my spot. Not your spot. My spot. Get your own damn spots. Just not my spots. Ok? Good. And once you have a spot of your own, don’t call it your damn spot either. Call it your joint. Or your place. Or your stripe. I don’t give a fuck what you call it! Just don’t use “my spot”. I will cut you.
Stop it.-Too often! Too many people talking about nonsense.
In the middle of a conversation if I start to realize you are making no sense or you are a complete fucking idiot, I will calmly close my eyes, wave my hand and say “Stop it.” And that’s it. Nothing else. Conversation over. Stop talking now.
Eye fucking the shit out of me.-Every time I’m drinking. Doesn’t matter. Every time.
Yes this is from the great comedy classic “Wedding Crashers”. But ever since this great quotable movie came out in 2005, I have embraced this one quote in particular. So much so that 99 out of 100 times when I’m out drinking with my boys you will hear it come out of my mouth even if a chick looked at me for a millisecond. Yep. I don’t care. If you’re a hot chick and you look my way then you are absolutely eye fucking the shit out of me. Seriously. I don’t care if Brad Pitt is standing next to me. I don’t care if your favorite shitty episode of Sex and the City is on the tv behind me. You look, then you’re eye fucking me! Period. For some reason though, fewer girls eye fuck the shit out of me when I’m sober. Weird.
Pun intended.-Mostly when I’m doing anything t-blawg related.
I pride myself on puns. On one liners. On sexual innuendo. On making people laugh. Whether you’re laughing at me or with me, if I like you, then that makes me happy. Sometimes I have to reiterate myself by saying pun intended. It’s the opposite of those people who always feel compelled to say “no pun intended”. That shit is weird! And stupid. All my puns are intended. As they should be.
“This” (Ex. “This chick was like….” “This dude right here….”. “This asshole said…” “This ‘anything really’”)-Ever since I was able to tell a story. Since I was 2 years-old I guess?!
When I’m telling a story to someone I always use “this” a lot to help. It adds to the effect. Between my energy, the accent and crazy Italian arms flailing like a maniac, it makes for a great show. For example, this is a story you might hear me tell. “I was out the other night with this chick right? I mean this chick was hot. And interesting. For a change right? We were having a good time until this douchebag bartender spills a drink across the bar onto her dress. This girl goes fucking nuts! She starts talking about how this dress she was wearing cost her like $500. So I say ‘This shit didn’t cost you no $500! Stop it.’” Night over.
Trimming The Fat.-I still trim. But not as much. Thankfully.
I coined this last year when I cleaned out my life. I got rid of every negative person. Every pain in the ass drama causing chick. Cut off every friend and family member who did not contribute to my life in any way when times were tough. I trimmed the fat. And I now say that every time I want to get something or someone out of my life that is not on the T bandwagon. That’s what that is all about baby!
-At least every fifth text! Every single text to a hot chick. Fo’ reals.
I don’t do LOL. I don’t do I heart you. I don’t do I miss your face. I’m a man. A straight man. I do this . That’s what T says and texts you. That’s how I’m nice. How I flirt. This is my thing. That’s what you get from T.
I Put the F-U in FUN.-I put it in. Wait…what?
Come onnnnn! Who else would say something like this but me?! Doesn’t sound right if anyone else says it.
Holla!!!-Probably like 6-7 times a week. That’s a good guestimate.
When I’m in a good mood, I’ll yell out “Holla!!!”. I’ll even write “Holla!!!” at the end of a great text. Or a positive facebook update. Or a tweet. I don’t know why. I just do. Been doing it for years. It means I’m in a good mood. Don’t fuck with my good mood. Holla!!!
Nicknames. I give everybody nicknames.-I find myself giving people nicknames out loud. And in my head. It’s scary.
Growing up everybody had a nickname. Sometimes they made sense. Sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes you liked them. Sometimes you didn’t. As a grown man in his 30s, I still give everybody a nickname. Friends, chicks, co-workers, strangers, biz contacts….it doesn’t matter. I give people nicknames. I don’t care if you don’t like it. I will call you that nickname whenever the hell I want. And the more you fight your nickname of “Assholeface”, the more I am going to call you “Assholeface”! Out in public. Around hot chicks. At the gym. During a conference call. At Christmas dinner in front of your grandmother. Ok Assholeface?!
So there you have some of my long running sayings. T-isms. Those who know me well, know all of these T-isms. Those who don’t, hang out with me sometime. We’ll go to one of my spots. You’ll get to know them all pretty well too. Then I’ll give you a nickname. If you don’t like it? Stop it. Pun intended. This slampig right here is eye fucking the shit out of me. Holla!!!
Do you have isms??? What do you say or do that nobody else does? That is entertaining? That are constantly taken from your own awesomeness?! Share here. Or on The Twitter. Or on The Facebook.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Why The Hell Is This Expensive?!” Post
There's about $5000 worth of guacamole right there
We live in a world of expensive taste. Expensive things. I get it. I make a good living. I can afford nice things. But there are some things in this world that are way too expensive for no good reason whatsoever and it pisses me off! It’s not the money. It’s the principle! Some people have a lot of balls charging ridiculous prices for everyday things. And these things should not be expensive! You want to know what they are? Well I’ll tell you dammit. And I’ll also let the world know how much they should be and why.
Razors
I live in downtown Boston and I pay $18 for a 4 pack of razors. Are you shitting me??? Do I get a reach around from some CVS cashier in back for paying that much? I’m Italian so I should shave everyday. But I like a day’s stubble on my face so I go every other day. But if I shaved everyday like I’m supposed to according to corporate America guidelines, that means I’ll go through a razor a week. That’s $216 a year on stupid razors! A pack of razors should be $6 tops.
Gym Memberships
Downtown Boston gyms are ridiculous. A lot of people just pay to either not go and say they belong to a certain gym or go like once a month to say they workout. And monthly rates vary from $80-$300 a month. That is nuts. I grew up in a neighborhood where I paid $19 a month. It had rusty weights and treadmills with shards of metal sticking out that could kill you. That’s all I needed though. I don’t need a pretty gym. Just give me the basics. Unfortunately, I don’t have a basic cheap gym option in downtown Boston. But I have a way with words and negotiated a set $69 a month for a high-end gym. But no way should any gym membership be more than $30 a month. No way.
Christmas Trees
I’ve never been big on getting a Christmas tree while living on my own. Never saw the point. I mean Santa hates my guts. I don’t have kids. I’m not in a serious relationship. Why the hell would I get one?! But I’m also anti-fake trees. They look stupid. If you’re going to get one, might as well be the real thing. I’ve gotten one like 3 times in my life. And I hate paying what they ask. And I see what people with kids are willing to pay for these future fire hazards. Like around $60-$150. Really?! The thing will be dead in like 2 days and all you really get from them are fucking pine needles in your car trunk and all over your house for years later. Why pay that much? They all should be $15 max. Or pull a Clark W. Griswold and go steal a tree by ripping it out of the ground. Preferably from your asshole neighbor’s yard.
Mixed drinks
I drink Jack Daniels & Ginger Ale. It’s My Signature Drink! When I go out in Boston, it costs me an average of $10 per Jack & Ginger. Now I did the math. I can buy a 750ml bottle of Jack at the liquor store for $18. A bottle of ginger ale is $2. That’s $20. And I can get a solid 13 buzz worthy drinks out of that. For $20. That would cost me $130 at the bar for that shit, tip not included! And the bar/lounge/club gets that shit from a distributor even cheaper than what we pay at the liquor store! The bar spends around $12. That’s $118 profit per bottle. WTF?! That is ridiculous. A mixed drink in any city should not be more than $5.50 per drink. Period. Make this law!
Cologne
Really?! I like to smell nice. I do. So I have no choice. And it’s Bro Code. But they come in like dixie cup sizes that last like a week! $42 for like a 7 spray bottle?! $70 for like a 12 spray bottle?! Go fuck yourself Ralph Lauren! Somebody invent some good smelling cologne that comes in a jug for around $18 that lasts 5 years! Call it Man Shit cologne. Thank me later.
Cable
I pay $173.19 a month for my HD cable with DVR/HBO and wireless internet. No need for a home phone. I hardly watch TV live except for sports. But I need this package. The cable people are criminals with licenses to legally operate. It’s bullshit. They try to ass rape you every time their service or equipment stops working too! It’s their fault, yet we have to pay. My combo package should be no more than $37 a month. If I was still a young asshole, I would be stealing cable like my father did when I was a kid. He was right about that. Probably the only thing he was ever right about.
Dry Cleaning
I only wash my gym clothes, socks, boxers, t-shirts and towels. The rest of my stuff I send out to the dry cleaner. Been this way since I was like 14 years old because as much as I love my mother, she couldn’t wash clothes for shit. My stuff would turn colors and shrink every damn time. I looked like a Hawaiian hippie wearing baby clothes. But as a grown man who wears suits to work and likes to have nice clothes, I rack up one hell of a dry cleaning bill weekly. Why the hell does it cost around $16 to dry clean a suit? It’s just a pair of pants and a jacket. $3 for a button up shirt with a little starch?! $7 for a pair of pants?! My dry cleaning can max out at almost $100 a month. I should be paying $35 max. I should look into buying some dry cleaning equipment for my house. Start a home business. Hmmm.
Milk
I pay an average of $5.19 for a gallon of milk. I drink a gallon a week. Been drinking skim for about 15 years. Shouldn’t skim milk be less than whole, 2% and 1%?! I think so! But it’s not. That’s some bullshit. Milk is still from a cow right? I mean is the planet running out of friggin’ cows or something? They’re cows. Not snow leopards. Milk should not be more than $3.25 a gallon.
Movie tickets
I’m a movie guy. I go for pleasure. For my business. I see every movie. EVERY movie. So I go every week. It’s $11 a ticket. $13 if I see a shitty 3-D movie. If I take a date and get her some popcorn and a drink? You’re talking like a million dollars a year for me! No exaggeration. Come on Hollywood! You’ve been putting out shit for years. Drop your ticket prices. A movie ticket should be $4 tops. And if the movie sucks, I should get half back right?
Chipotle guacamole
Oh you fuckers. Hey I like guacamole on my damn burrito. Wow. That sounded dirty. What I don’t like is having to pay an extra $1.95 to get it on my burrito at Chipotle! What the fuck are they thinking?! It’s guacamole! Not oil. Not gold. Guacamole. Assholes. This shit should be free of charge just like all the other options I have for my burrito. Smarten the fuck up Chipotle!
So those were my gripes on everyday things that are way too expensive for no reason whatsoever. I gave my suggestions for what they should really cost. Can we get somebody on this? Thanks.
What do think? Agree or disagree??? Anything rub your ass the wrong way that you would like to vent about and suggest a cost that you think is proper? Let me know here on t-blawg or on Facebook or on Twitter!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Titletown” Post
You served me well my playoff beard
Let’s just start this t-blawg post like this. 10 years. 4 teams. 1 city. 7 championships.
That’s right. Boston is “Titletown” and nobody else can claim that. I can turn this post into one hell of a bragging rights session about Boston’s sports dominance because let’s face it. Nobody can talk Boston better than me. But I’m not going to do that. Not today anyways. Instead I am going to write about why the nickname “Titletown” is more than just about the championships and bragging rights for my city. I would like to direct you to the pic just above. Oh snap. Is that Milan Lucic?! No. It’s not. It’s me. Rocking my “#24 Terry O’Reilly” Bruins hat and my Bruins playoff beard. That’s right. A full length playoff beard and my favorite Bruins player as a kid. That’s how far back I go. That’s how loyal I am. That’s Boston. Pure, loyal, hard-working, fighting, earning every inch and every win, Boston. And the Boston Bruins recent Stanley Cup championship has shown that. Just like how I showed my loyalty every day during their playoff run by going months without shaving. To show my dedication to my team. To my city. The Boston Bruins were the last of the “No championship winning. Boston sports teams suck. Wait ‘til next year.” teams. We waited. We fought. We stayed loyal. All of us. And yes I use the term “we” when describing my teams. My city. Its people. My people. Why? Because that’s “Titletown”. That’s Boston.
As a little kid I wore my Easter basket on my head and took slap shots of foil puck balls off of my grandfather as he played goalie with his slipper. We were the Black and Gold. Not the Black and Yellow for all you come lately bandwagon pink hatters! My old Italian Papa and I were the Bruins and they never won The Cup when my grandfather and I had our time together before he passed away. This Stanley Cup win was for him. For me. For Boston. Just like the Pats did it for us. Just like the Sox did it for us. And the same as the Celtics. The teams represent the people. Our heart. Our class. Our love. Our loyalty. Our sports teams just give us the spotlight we need to shine every now and then. But it’s always there. Always was. Always will be. The 2010-2011 Boston Bruins were the last of the losers in other cities’ eyes. But never in the eyes of Boston. The Cup just made it official. We all knew we would win it. Eventually. It’s not optimism. It’s just how we are. We are confident enough to know we will win and never falter when the naysayers say we can’t. We won’t. Because Boston will win. Just like me. Just like everybody else with Boston blood in their veins.
History shows all the great battles that took place in Boston. All the wars fought. All the blood spilled. And I’m not talking about sports now. I’m talking about Paul Revere. The Revolutionary War. The Boston Massacre. This city has been fighting, kicking ass and winning way before it had any sports teams. It’s people are a part of history. Hell, even the Kennedys come from my old loyal & tough as nails neighborhood of Eastie! We’ve always fought here. Still do. We’ve always strived to be the best. We work at it. You see it. You hear it in “The Accent”. You see it in our ever-growing popular Oscar-winning Boston-based movies. And you now know it from the 10 years of complete and total sports dominance. Boston was always “Titletown”. Will always be “Titletown”. Whether our sports teams are putting trophies in cases or not. We know we’re “Titletown”. We know nobody else can make that claim. And now you all know it too. Boston….what?!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “The T Substantial Dating Demographic” Post
A pie chart can explain anything. Anything!
I’m not saying this happens to everybody but I’ve come to a point in my life where I have decided to close the gap on the women who I get involved with. Now, the only reason I’m doing this is because I’ve had my fair share of women of different ages/types ranging from the youngest: a 19 year-old model who was 12 years younger than me to the oldest: a 44 year-old cougar who was 17 years older than me and everything in between. I’ve run my age dating gamut. Everywhere from crazy young hot sex with drama and sleepless party nights to older women who already have been married with children and just want sex with a younger guy. What have I had in between? A bunch of bullshit really. The bullshit stands out the most. Very few shining moments. Too few good women. Too few healthy, “normal for T anyways” women to date. Too much of being a side dick for some mental chick. Or being the undercover lover for some chick in a relationship. And even sometimes I have been an emotional friend that provided the occasional cuddle. Countless times of drunk texting and pulling rabbits out of hats when magic hour was underway at the bar or club. Enough of that shit I say.
The end result of my peak years of partying, dating, booty calling, side banging has left me with….nothing. Seriously. Oh sure these stories make for some great blog posts and elevated this blog. Some great shit talking with my boys for sure. Hell, even some great material I put into my scripts. But for me, personally? Nothing substantial. Nothing with substance. Nothing that I can say to myself “Hey T. This girl is awesome. She gets you. Lets you be you. You say and do things to her you never did to any other woman. Shit, there’s feelings involved! You’re not a machine after all. Good job.” And I’ll take half the blame on this. The other half goes on the chicks not in what I now call “The T Substantial Dating Demographic”. This demographic is the target female type and age range I will now focus all my powers on. And believe me, I have some powers. Just ask all my female t-blawg groupies. Heeeyyyyy. Wait. Stop distracting me dammit!
The T Substantial Dating Demographic: (If you don’t fall into this demographic I will not get involved with you in any romantic or sexual way whatsoever! Not anymore. *Present women I met before this post are excluded. Well some of you are.)
Age: 25-35 (I can’t deal with the young insecure drama anymore. Even for just banging. Sorry. Or the older, scorned “My life and men suck so I’m bitter and will take it out on all men” type.)
Education: College Graduate + (This means you’re not stupid. I hate stupid.)
Income: $60-$100K (I have no problem taking care of a woman if she wants me to. But I need to know she can take care of herself first.)
Occupation: Sky’s the damn limit! (Anything but full-time student, model, actress, unemployed, bartender (part time is ok), waitress, stripper, socialite (what the fuck is that anyways?!))
Living Situation: Just You (You can rent or own. I don’t care. But you better live alone. Fuck your intruding parents. Fuck your never minding their own business roommates. Fuck your children supplement cats. One dog is cool. As long as it doesn’t fit in a purse or wear clothes. Or try to rape my leg or ass.)
Status: Completely Single! (That means…never been married. Too much baggage. Can’t have kids. I love kids. And I’m a great uncle. But if I ever have kids, they have to be my kids. And my kids will be hell spawn. Just so you know. But I’ll still love the little fuckers.)
Physical Appearance: Surprise Me (I am no longer going for the dark haired, pretty eye shit! Fuck that. You can look however you look. Within the 5 foot to 5 foot 9 range. 90-130lbs. Average/Athletic/Curvy build. Any ethnicity. Any hair color. Can be a 6 on a 1-10 scale. Preferably a 7-8. 9s and 10s have egos bigger than me. All set.)
Musts: Besides the above mentioned? Have a sense of humor and something to say. Honestly? These two things would probably bump out any of the above shit I mentioned. For reals. I make you laugh, then I’m happy from you laughing. Done!
Must nots: Smokes, sausage hands, greasy curly hair, assface chins, drug dependencies (street or prescription), muffin tops, doesn’t live in reality, delusional, loves drama, insecurity, doesn’t like movies, smells funny.
Our History: You don’t know me. Not from my past. Not from this blog. We’ve never worked together. We’ve never been friends. We didn’t go to school together. We don’t just facebook through t-blawg. We don’t just tweet through @tblawg. We didn’t meet once at a mutual friend’s party. You’re not in my pipeline. I’m not in yours. Nothing. It has to be fresh. It has to be new.
That’s “The T Substantial Dating Demographic”! As of this blog posting this is what I’ll be focusing on. Impossible? I don’t know. Maybe. Shouldn’t be. Doesn’t seem that hard on paper. And for all you people reading this and I’m sure will either comment, text, call, facebook, tweet or even carrier pigeon me “Well what do you have to offer the women in ‘The T Substantial Dating Demographic ‘ Mr. Perfect???” A lot actually. But I know I’m not perfect. Because I’m honest. And I’m funny. And ambitious. What else? Oh. I make a good living. Also very loyal. And….let’s just say the rest I have to offer is a whole lot of substance. Substantial substance.
What do you think? Am I nuts??? Am I asking for too much? Would love to hear some female feedback on this one. Easy on the hate mail please. Haha.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “meTaphor-Carnival Poster” Post
From the ages of 12-18 I had a Pamela Anderson poster collage on my wall. t-fact
*Metaphor is the concept of understanding one thing in terms of another. A metaphor is a figure of speech that constructs an analogy between two things or ideas; the analogy is conveyed by the use of a metaphorical word in place of some other word.
This is how T does metaphors. Read between the lines. Welcome to meTaphor.
Carnival Poster-A meTaphor
Growing up in the 80s & 90s carnivals were pretty popular. And they had some fun games to play. They had games like Water Gun Clown Balloon. Shoot The Star Out. Dart Balloon Pop. Why did I play these pointless games? I liked to play because I was there, I was bored, it was fun and I had some cash to waste. Sound familiar? The prize I always liked to play for was a carnival poster. When I won, I usually picked the hot chick poster. Sometimes a famous chick would have a poster out. Sometimes it was one the caliber of Pamela Anderson. Sometimes it was a not so famous chick. But still hot nonetheless. It was great to look at. I would carry it around the carnival. Take it on rides. Like the Gravitron. A ride that just spins round and round. And The Pirate Boat. A rocky ride that would get you sick. And of course, The Head Over Heel Flipping Cart Ferris Wheel that you had no control over whatsoever. But I held onto that damn poster. I took care of it. Because I liked it. I earned it. I spent money on it. Then after I left the carnival, I would take the poster home. Gently unroll it. Find a nice place for it on the wall in my room. Put it up on the wall. It was a thing of beauty. It was my prize. I kept it around for a while too. Sometimes a whole year until another carnival came into town and I wanted a new one. I would play more games. Spend more money. And then finally win a new one. Take it on rides. Safely and gently carry it around. Then I would take it home. Tear down the old poster. Toss it in the trash. And gently put up the new one in it’s place. This cycle would go on and on. You work for it. You take care of it. You appreciate it. Then you tear it down and throw it away. And replace it. Stop. Start. And repeat. The carnival poster.
A meTaphor.
What did you think of this meTaphor? Better than the cereal meTaphor? Is it too much? Over the head? Do you know what I’m talking about??? Let me know. Reply here, on the Facebook wall or Tweet a dude.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Breaking the Bad Dating Cycle” Post
If you use this line, you're bad at dating
In all my years of dating I have come to one mind boggling conclusion. You ready? Here it is. 99% of people dating go for two types. The ones that treat you bad and the ones you can treat bad. This is fact! And this is sad. Now congrats to you 1%ers out there who have managed to meet somebody who you treat well and treats you as equally well. As Christian Bale once said on the set of the Terminator “Ooohhhh good for yooouuuu!” The rest of us are still in the trenches still battling and trying to figure this shit out. Well I think I have. And I’m going to share it right now. You want to break that bad dating cycle you are in? You want to start to actually enjoy dating? Well old T got you covered. Here’s how you break that bad cycle. Let’s all break that bad cycle!
Let’s not be nice at first.
WHAT?! Don’t be nice? Exactly. Be shallow at first. If you don’t have even the itsy bitsy hint of a physical attraction to the person who just walked up to you at the bar then let it be known. A simple “Thank you. I’m flattered. But I’m not interested.” Done! If you don’t have interest don’t give your number! If you don’t have interest, don’t drink the damn free drink! If you’re not excited about the date, then don’t go on the date! Now we can all focus on the people who actually have a genuine interest from the start.
Your friends aren’t always right!
Your friends love you, of course. They have your back, yes. But sometimes we listen to them and they’re…wrong. Maybe they are jealous. Maybe they are bitter. Maybe they are just stupid. You know who really knows what and who you like? YOU. Make the call yourself. Get to know the person you are dating regardless of what your friends may or may not know about the person. You know best. Find out and decide for yourself. Do not date on assumptions from those outside of the things the two of you are sharing alone together.
Go Against Type
Date somebody who is the complete opposite of the type of person you usually date. Go in open minded. Try it. See what happens. You have nothing to lose and maybe a whole new world to gain. If it sucks, then go back to the type who has made your life miserable for so many years.
Nobody Meets Somebody by Staying In or Going Home Early
Don’t stay in your house 7 nights a week! Don’t be that person who goes home early when all of your friends are still out having a great time! Yes we all have to be up early for work. Yes we all have AM meetings. Yes we all have to make it to the gym. But you never know what you missed. And I’m not talking about the stupid shit your drunk friend usually does every time. I’m talking about the perfect someone who walked in the second after you left and you never even met. Think about that shit.
Don’t Start It With Sex
Do not hookup one drunk night and think you can now date. Do not go on the first date, hookup and think you can now date. You are out of your fucking mind if you think it will work out. Eventually, shit will end. It will end badly. It will end awkwardly. All because you couldn’t hold out a couple of dates to get to know each other before you boned. Trust me on this. I speak from experience. I do not repeat this mistake.
Don’t End It With Sex
If you think you can have one last banging session before you break up with somebody and then start dating somebody else fresh and new without having any lingering effects from that last banging, you are bat shit crazy! You are breaking up for a reason. If you still want to have sex, then you still want to be with that person. It’s not fair to the new person you are dating and most importantly, it’s not fair to yourself. Smarten the fuck up.
Mixed signals are pointless
If you like the person you just met or are dating, tell them. No having to think about it. No wondering if you should or shouldn’t. If you have any hesitation, tell them and then don’t date them. Move on to the next one. No leading on. That is just straight douchebaggery.
The Games Stop in Your early 20s People
I played games. You’ve played games. Did it. Learned from it. No longer doing it. If you are 25+ and still playing those “playa/playette” games, you are a piece of shit and deserve to be alone forever. Karma will bite you in your ass. Don’t play games with those who don’t deserve it when you are an adult just because you can. Because if you are still doing this, then you aren’t an adult. Dating isn’t a fucking power game. Learn this.
Once You Let Somebody Know You Like Them and They Don’t Feel The Same? Walk Away. You’ll Never Be Friends.
This is so obvious yet some of us still want to be friends. Why? We all already have plenty of friends. You’ll never be real friends with this person. Ever. Regardless of how nice they are, cut them off. You have to.
It’s Not Just About You
Dating is a compromise. Put them first. They put you first. You give then take. They give then take. That’s it. If you have constantly been putting yourself first in every one of your dating situations, now you know why none of them ever work out.
Jealousy Is Never a Good Look
The #1 dating killer! Why be jealous? If they don’t want to be with you, then let them go. Otherwise, just be secure in yourself and know how much of a great catch you are and they will know the same. Don’t be jealous. Be confident in your shit. Own your shit.
Check Your Baggage At Your Door
The key is “YOUR” door. Check it before you leave your place. Don’t bring it to theirs. The past is the past. Let it stay there. Only worry about what you have now and want for the future. That’s it. Start fresh and just enjoy each other!
So there you have it! This information is a surefire way to break the bad dating cycle. Print this out. Put it in your wallet, purse, fanny pack, back pocket, whatever. Bring it on your first few dates and then thank me later. Now go out and have some good fucking dates people!!!
What do you think of my advice? My dating posts are usually pretty popular. Have anything to add to help break the bad dating cycle? Comment here, tweet or facebook me!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Defines Pink Hatter” Post
Not just for shallow women either
For as long as t-blawg has existed you have heard about my disdain for Pink Hatters. But what the hell is a Pink Hatter exactly? I’ll tell you. During our “Decade of Dominance” of 2001-2011, a lot of fake ass and wannabe Bostonians jumped on our sports teams’ bandwagons because we went from total suckiness to total awesomeness. It started with the Pats. Then the Sox. Then the Celtics. And now with the Bruins with their epic Stanley Cup victory. Our arenas and stadiums have become full of fake fan women wearing pink Pats hats. Pink Sox hats. Pink Cs hats. Pink Bruins hats. They are women who don’t know shit about the team. About the players. About the history. About loyalty. They just wanted to be seen at these games and/or finally cheer them on because our teams had become cool in their eyes. They thought they looked cute. Then the term Pink Hatter also started to be thrown around at guys who were also jumping on the bandwagon. Even though they didn’t actually wear the pink hats, they still became pink fucking hatters in the eyes of real fans due to their lack of loyalty and total embracement of fakeness and douchiness. They are Pink Hatters. How can you spot a Pink Hatter? Do you think you may know a Pink Hatter? Are you a Pink Hatter yourself? Well here’s how you know! I’m defining the Pink Hatter right here, right now. T style of course.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you never cheered for a Boston sports team before 2001.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you’ve never been to an actual game but claim to be a “real fan.”
You are a Pink Hatter if….you had the balls to cheer “We want the Cup!” recently but didn’t start cheering it until like game 6 or 7 of the Stanley Cup finals.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you just want to get out of work early as the reason why you go to our Duck Boat victory parades.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you can’t name a single player when they are not wearing their uniform.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you are more concerned about Tom Brady’s hair than his stats.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you didn’t cry when Cam Neely tried to come back.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you didn’t enjoy Pedro tossing Don Zimmer by his old ass head.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you didn’t know Drew Bledsoe, Scott Zolak or Steve Grogan existed before Tom Brady.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t remember “Squish the Fish” or “Bury the Bears”.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you didn’t believe in “The Curse of the Great Bambino”.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t know who Mookie Wilson, Bucky Dent or Aaron Boone are.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you wear heels and a dress to a Cs game like you’re at the club.
You are a Pink Hatter if….any of your sports gear has “bling”.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you need a drinking glove to tailgate at The Razor in January.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t always order 2 beers/2 dogs every time you get up to piss at Fenway.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you need to ask at Fenway “What is the name of that yellow pole again?”
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t remember that one time Jose Canseco pitched for the Sox.
You are a Pink Hatter if….the names Troy Brown, Adam Oates, Mike Greenwell and Xavier McDaniel don’t sound familiar.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t get emotional when talking about Len Bias or Reggie Lewis.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t know the original Big 3.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you never said the words “wait ‘til next year”.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you only watch during the playoffs.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you claim to be a diehard yet tweet about how you’re out to dinner during a playoff game; regular season Yankees games; Lakers games; Habs games or Colts games!
You are a Pink Hatter if….you just want to get on the jumbotron.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you never sat near the dancing old guy with the hat and mustache, the dancing little kid, Santa Claus or Tupac Shakur at the Garden during a Cs game.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you didn’t have a crush on the hotness that was Kelly the Ball Girl.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you’re a dopey college kid who got killed by a bean bag bullet to the head because you only took to the streets of Boston after one of our teams won a championship to act like an idiot by climbing a tree, a traffic light, a light pole or jumped on the hood of a car without even watching the game we just won.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you only banged the players without even knowing why you banged them just because you heard they’re on the team. Groupie ho.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you didn’t know Andy Moog or Reggie Lemelin before Tim Thomas.
You are a Pink Hatter if….your stomach doesn’t turn when you still watch old tapes of when Bird’s back started to go.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t remember when there weren’t any seats on the Monster.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you never went to a game in the old Garden.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t remember where and when Paul Pierce got stabbed at that club that one time.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t remember where you were when Bledsoe got taken out and that backup QB came in.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t hear yourself saying out loud to anyone in ear shot at any family wedding, funeral or other important event “Why isn’t the game on?”, “Where the fuck is the TV in this place? The game is starting.” or “Does anyone know the score of the game?”
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t respect the bloody sock.
You are a Pink Hatter if….the name Grady Little doesn’t piss you the fuck off.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t giggle like a little girl when Don & Remy giggle like little girls.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t know why the year 1986 is etched in real Bostonians memories.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you think Tommy is biased when it comes to the Celtics. No way! He calls it down the line bro! Tommy Point!!!
You are a Pink Hatter if….you have to ask why they’re booing Kevin Youkilis.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you never appreciated Hazel Mae’s epic boobs or Tina Cervasio’s epic mouth or Heidi Watney’s epic everything.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you think it’s Black & Yellow instead of Black & Gold around here.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you didn’t believe “The Tuna” was going to get us a Super Bowl victory.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t bow down to the Gods that are Bobby Orr, Ted Williams or Larry Bird every time their names are mentioned.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t know why Doug Flutie was, is and will always be popular around Boston.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t know damn well that Larry Bird ain’t walking through that door!
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t do the double fist pump with Rene every time.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t get out of your seat and do the “For another Patriots’ first down!” first down gesture at Gillette.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t sing “Sweet Caroline” for at least another 30 seconds after the music stops at Fenway.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t know when it’s time to do the Ric Flair “Woooooo!” at a Bs game.
You are a Pink Hatter if….you don’t know when it’s “Peanut Butter Jelly Time!”
And finally. You are a Pink Hatter if….you wear any pink Boston sports gear; need to ask any Boston sports questions about anything before 2001 because you don’t know shit; or don’t have a legit answer to “You missed the game???”
There you have it. T has defined the Pink Hatter. Why I hate Pink Hatters. And how to recognize a no good, dirty Pink Hatter. It is now on all of us to rid our great city of Boston of these Pink Hatters. Let’s do it people!!!
Are you a Pink Hatter? Do you know of any other Pink Hatter symptoms? Let me know! Hit me up here. On Facebook. Or on Twitter. Or even if you ever just want to talk Boston sports!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “The 1st Ten: T’s Bromance Comedy” Post
T's autobiography or one hell of a movie?!
In case you didn’t know, I’m not just an honest, funny, original blogger. I’m also a screenwriter. And some of you have asked to read some of my scripts. Ok. Some of my work is being shopped around but I would like to share some material right here on t-blawg. Copyrighted material! So you steal it, I sue! In Hollywood if you can get somebody to read through the first ten pages, then you may have a decent script. It’s the introduction. So I am presenting a new feature here on t-blawg. It’s called “The 1st Ten”.
This script is a bromance comedy. PG-13ish. Think “The Hangover” meets “40 Year-Old Virgin.”
How does the ultimate bachelor have a relationship with “the one” when all he knows is hooking up and his married buddies refuse to let him settle down because they live for his many conquests?
I present “T’s Bromance Comedy”:
*Don’t mind the formatting here!
FADE IN:
INT. TOMMY’S BEDROOM. DAY
A beautiful WOMAN, 23, is on top of TOMMY, 25, kissing him in bed. Tommy is good looking. He’s in shape and has a boyish smile. The two just finished having sex. She drops and lays next to him smiling and rubbing his bare chest.
TOMMY
(smiling)
Now that’s what I’m talking about!
WOMAN
Oh my God. That was amazing.
TOMMY
(proudly)
No doubt.
WOMAN
I just want to let you know I never do stuff like this.
TOMMY
You could’ve fooled me babe.
WOMAN
Not the sex silly. I mean meeting a guy in a bar and going home with him. I never do that.
TOMMY
Me neither.
WOMAN
Yeah right.
TOMMY
Seriously. I never go home with guys I meet in bars.
The woman laughs. She reaches over for her cell phone and checks the time.
WOMAN
Shit! I’m going to be late for work!
TOMMY
It’s all good honey! It’s only 10:00!
She hops out of bed and rushes around trying to get dressed as Tommy smiles with his arms behind his head.
WOMAN
Some of us actually have to work real nine to five jobs!
TOMMY
Well one day maybe you too can be in charge.
WOMAN
I thought you were only like a VP of publishing or something!
TOMMY
Only? Honey, if the President dies, that means I’m in charge of everything!
WOMAN
I don’t think it works like that. If your company is anything like mine, there’s probably like thirteen other VPs and at least five presidents.
TOMMY
What’s your point?
WOMAN
I don’t even have time to go home and change! People are going to know I hooked up.
TOMMY
Dude the walk of shame sucks.
She runs over to Tommy and gives him a kiss.
WOMAN
Well it was worth it.
TOMMY
It was spectacular! I was spectacular!
WOMAN
(laughing)
Yes you were! Gotta go! Dinner this weekend?
TOMMY
(beat)
Yeah sure.
WOMAN
Call me!
TOMMY
You betcha!
She leaves the apartment.
Tommy looks up from bed smiling ear to ear.
TOMMY (CONT’D)
T, you are the man.
Tommy jumps out of bed.
His place is a bachelor pad. The apartment is full of expensive electronics and furniture.
He turns on his iPod dock and plays Jay-Z.
TOMMY (CONT’D)
(singing)
Big pimpin’ spendin’ cheese!
Tommy showers and then goes through his assortment of suits in his closet.
He lays down different combinations of expensive suits, ties and shirts.
TOMMY (CONT’D)
What’s the point? I look good in them all!
Tommy is suited up. He drinks a protein shake and then grabs his bag and leaves.
INT. OFFICE. DAY
BILLY, 23, is sitting in his cubicle on the phone. Billy is a young looking, wide eyed man-child.
BILLY
I know I went out last night but it’s Friday! Guys night out honey!
(beat)
Last night was Thirsty Thursday and T nailed a big account! We talked about this already. Stop yelling.
(beat)
I KNOW HOW HE IS!
(beat)
I’m not raising my voice. Sorry. I don’t know if he hooked up or not.
(beat)
You’re right. He IS such a man whore! I don’t know why I hang out with him either.
(beat)
Okay! I said okay!
Tommy walks in.
TOMMY
Bill Eazay what up kid?!
They high five.
BILLY
(on the phone)
Gotta go! I’ll call you later!
He SLAMS the phone down.
BILLY (CONT’D)
Big T! 11:30 and just rolling into work. I love it!
TOMMY
Was that the wifey?
BILLY
She was giving me crap about going out with you last night.
TOMMY
Still?
BILLY
She’s always giving me crap now. Since the wedding. Seven weeks ago.
TOMMY
I keep telling you to tell her that you’re not out with me anymore. You’re always going to be guilty by association man.
BILLY
I know.
TOMMY
And didn’t you go home at like 7:00?
BILLY
Yes. Everything changed since we got married. Just seven weeks ago!
TOMMY
I know man. I was there.
BILLY
She’s like a different woman.
TOMMY
You were warned. A lot.
Billy starts to smile.
TOMMY (CONT’D)
What?
BILLY
So how did it go with Sharon?
TOMMY
Who’s Sharon?
BILLY
The chick from the bar last night!
TOMMY
Was that her name?
BILLY
Oh man! You hooked up?! Again!
Tommy laughs.
BILLY (CONT’D)
Man I saw that coming! I miss everything now! Tell me how it went down.
Billy’s phone RINGS. He leans over to look at it.
BILLY (CONT’D)
Dammit! Why is she calling me now!?
Tommy starts to walk away laughing.
BILLY (CONT’D)
Wait don’t go! I want details man! Details! I need them!
TOMMY
I’ll tell you at lunch. Come grab me in twenty minutes.
BILLY
Lunch? You just got in.
TOMMY
What’s your point?
Billy’s cell phone starts RINGING.
BILLY
Now she’s calling me on both phones.
TOMMY
(laughing)
You better answer that.
BILLY
Keep laughing. This might be you some day!
TOMMY
No way dude! I love my life!
BILLY
I love my WIFE!
The phones keeping RINGING. Tommy walks away.
TOMMY
Keep telling yourself that!
BILLY
See you in twenty bro!
Billy answers his cell phone.
BILLY (CONT’D)
WHAT?!
(beat)
I’m sorry for raising my voice honey.
INT. TOMMY’S OFFICE. LATER
Tommy is leaning back in his chair with his feet on his desk. He’s on the phone.
TOMMY
Jon, I’m telling you this girl wasn’t a Boston ten. She was an LA ten.
(beat)
I’m serious man!
(beat)
Hey you got out the game. I remember when we raised your jersey and retired your number at your bachelor party two years ago.
Tommy laughs.
TOMMY (CONT’D)
Your wife’s still a ten man. And she’ll still be one after my god-daughter is born.
Billy RUNS into Tommy’s office.
BILLY
Walk out here with me now!
TOMMY
What?
BILLY
WALK OUT HERE WITH ME NOW!
TOMMY
Jon, I’ll see you tonight. Everybody’s in. Later.
Tommy hangs up the phone.
TOMMY (CONT’D)
Don’t be storming all up in here and yelling at me like that. I’m a VP bitch!
BILLY
You have to see the new chick.
Tommy jumps out of his chair.
TOMMY
She hot?
BILLY
What do you think?
TOMMY
I don’t know with you. You have no scale. I’ve met your wife.
BILLY
My wife is hot bro.
Tommy puts his suit jacket on and fixes his tie.
TOMMY
I’m messing with you. Let’s go.
They walk out of Tommy’s office quickly.
SUSAN, 24, is a sexy, provocatively dressed woman. She is walking around the office with ALLISON, 25, introducing her to the employees. Allison is the beautiful girl next door. Her big eyes are amazing. A natural beauty without trying.
TOMMY (CONT’D)
Whoa.
BILLY
What did I tell you? My scale is the bomb. She’s a ten. An LA ten!
TOMMY
Slow your roll. She could be good from far, far from good. Plus she’s with Susan. The biggest crotch blocker around.
BILLY
That’s cause she still wants you.
TOMMY
Of course she does.
The two women start to walk over to them.
TOMMY (CONT’D)
Quick act busy.
The girls see them pick up random papers from the desk they are standing near.
TOMMY (CONT’D)
(loudly)
So, what we need to do here is compile all of our resources and-
BILLY
Right, right.
TOMMY
And then we will be able to utilize the pythagorean theorem here-
The girls get closer.
BILLY
Absolutely. Absolutely Mr. Vice President.
SUSAN
Stop acting like you two are working.
TOMMY
And then the result will allow us to make millions. Possibly billions!
Allison smiles.
BILLY
Maybe even trillions!
TOMMY
(slowly)
May be.
BILLY
You are such a genius.
TOMMY
I know. Oh hey Susan. Didn’t see you there. And who is this?
SUSAN
Whatever. Tommy, Billy this is Allison. She’s the new senior graphic designer in marketing.
ALLISON
Hi, nice to meet you.
Tommy is smitten.
BILLY
Hi.
Tommy reaches his hand out.
TOMMY
So nice to meet you Allison.
SUSAN
Try staying away from this one Tommy. I know it will be hard for you.
TOMMY
What are you talking about?
SUSAN
Tommy is an asshole. And Billy is a border line retard.
Allison laughs.
BILLY
You’re in HR! You have to stop describing us like that to new employees Susan!
ALLISON
Got it. Mentally challenged. And A-hole.
TOMMY
(smiling)
Not only am I an A-hole, but I’m also the VP of publishing. I’m important. Please remember that.
ALLISON
(smiling)
Okay, I’ll be sure to remember that.
TOMMY
That’s all I ask.
The girls walk away. Allison, still smiling, glances back at Tommy.
So there it is. I shared the 1st ten pages of my bromance comedy. Can you tell where the inspiration came from? Does Tommy sound familiar? I bet he does! This script was actually t-blawg before t-blawg existed. The story gets better.
Would you read more??? Let me know on here, Facebook or Twitter!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T’s Manscaping Rules” Post
I did this once in my life. It absolutely sucked.
I am a full blooded testosterone filled man. I like to look good. I stay in shape. I take care of myself. But I am far from being a pretty boy. Far from being a metrosexual. Case in point. My former neighbor and greatest QB to ever play the game, Tom Brady. He’s a metrosexual. A pretty boy. The only thing I have in common with pretty boy metrosexuals like Tom Brady is grooming. AKA Manscaping. It’s necessary. Every man does it. Few talk about it. Well not T. You want to know about Manscaping rules? Here we go.
The face
I shave every other day. I like a day old stubble. Works well when I’m suited up at the office. Even better on the weekends. I rarely shave on the weekends unless I have a good reason. Like a hot date. Occasionally I’ll grow in a goatee. That’s it. If you grow in a beard keep it tight. It should be a playoff beard really. If you grow in one of those really thin trimmed beard things like you’re a rapper or a boy band singer, you’re an asshole. If you have star shaped symbols or other weird shaped beard designs? You are a douche.
Head
I get a haircut every 3 weeks. By the time you’re 30, you should have a look. It’s not a style. It’s more like a whatever. But it’s your whatever. Usually 5 days after my haircut is when it looks it’s best. I don’t know why. It just does. I keep the sides short. The top a little longer. And throw some shit in sometimes to stick up the front. It’s my whatever. But I keep it looking good and right. You should too. No excuse to go longer than 3 weeks without a haircut.
Eyebrows
Mines are thick. That’s what she said. But I keep them tight with a trimmer. I pluck the loose hairs in between because I don’t want an Italian man unibrow. Fuck that. That is weird. Trim those brows bro.
Ears
I don’t have a major problem but the occasional long hair started sprouting out after the age of 25. I trim that shit with a trimmer too. It’s weird but I’m a man. Shit happens. If you have ear hairs, they shouldn’t be seen. Your ears shouldn’t look like a cactus.
Nose
Pluck those hairs bro. Nothing more nasty than talking to a chick and a long ass jungle vine drops out of your nose and floats in the wind.
Back of the neck
This area should always be clean. In between haircuts I take buzzers to it. Women appreciate the clean look back there. They like touching it when they pull you in close to tell you a secret. Haha.
Chest
I’m Italian. So I have manly chest hair. I have since I hit puberty. I also used to be a young gym rat who used to shave his chest almost daily. Now that I’m 30+ not so much anymore. I embrace my chest hair. I’m a fucking man. Not a little boy. I’m also not a werewolf like some Italians, so my chest mane stays well kept mostly on it’s own. With the occasional Summer shave down. Hey. It’s a habit I’m not sure needs breaking. Depends on the chick in your bed yo. Remember that.
Back
Back hair is a touchy subject for men. It’s like chicks who can grow in man mustaches. Not those cute light blonde chick mustaches. I’m talking like the shit I can grow on my face! And a lot of women can. So you run to go get that shit waxed 3 times a week at the place near your work on the down low and act like you don’t have a problem. That’s cool. I get it. Same with back hair for us dudes. I’m lucky enough that my awesome Italian man genetics don’t give me a forest on my back but I can grow in a small thin coating up top near my shoulders. I used to go get a wax like every 6 months. It wasn’t really painful. Just annoying. But the chicks that did it were really hot and I always hoped for a happy ending because it felt like a Taiwanese massage parlor. It was pretty cheap for me because there wasn’t much to wax. Thank God. Then a few years ago I was at Bed Bath & Beyond with a chick bored out of my damn skull and came across the Man Groomer. It’s a long thin buzzer for your back basically. $40. Score. Now I use that when I’m Manscaping. Maybe you should too.
The whole man junk area
A real man doesn’t take a razor and shave his dick area bald. Don’t try to look like a newborn baby. That’s weird bro. Seriously. And you’re not a porn star with that thing. Chill out. But don’t have a 70s porn bush down there either. Take the buzzers to it once a week and trim it down a little. Above it. The balls. The shaft. The taint. Keep it tight and looking good. It’s our gift to the world!
The arms
I’ve recently been told by a woman that shaved man arms make her want to vomit. The old gym rat in me says to shave them down. Plus I have tattoos on my forearms. Honestly, most of the time now I just let them be. I’m a man who has hairy arms. Not like Robin Williams fur hairy. But Italian hair nonetheless. Fuck it. I’m a grown ass man and you can still see the tats. I say keep the arm hair. Until you don’t want to. I flip flop on this like the chest sometimes. Sue me.
Anywhere else on the body
Ass. Legs. Armpits. Toe knuckles. You do whatever the hell you want. I consider these parts unimportant until they need to be important. If you get serious with a chick and she has to look at you and all these parts, then just do whatever the hell she says to them. Because she’ll be touching them and looking at them more than you. And all those other parts I named above too actually. At this point, she is your Manscaping expert. Keep her happy. Just makes sure she does her Ladyscaping to keep you happy.
Manscaping. We all should do it. Not just Tom Brady. Now you know.
Do you manscape? Is it wrong? Is it a necessity? Do you even care??? Ladies, what do you think? Tweet me, Facebook me or comment it up right here on t-blawg!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Bro Bachelor Party Code” Post
Watch this 80s classic before any bachelor party. It's friggin' "Bachelor Party!"
If you’ve been reading t-blawg, then you know I’m a real believer in Bro Code. Seriously. First there was my “I Respect the Bro Code and You Should Too” post. Which has reached iconic status. Google it. Then there was the “Bro Dress Code.” Which has reached epic proportions. Google that too. And the last chapter was my sure to be legendary “Bro Strip Club Code” post. Today I am here to add an interesting chapter that most men don’t talk about outside of their inner Bro Circle. They don’t want this part of the Bro Code public. And hey, I get that. I really do. But it is my responsibility to share my life knowledge right here on t-blawg.com! It’s what I do. So today I reveal the latest chapter in my Bro Code rule book….the “Bro Bachelor Party Code.” Wait! Hold on! Slow your roll. Don’t worry fellas. I’m not blowing up your spot. My spot. Our spots. We’re all in this together. The about to be married. The married. The single. The rules will be given without any incrimination. Trust me. T knows what he’s doing here. I’ve been in 6 bachelor parties in my life. And I know tons of other guys who have as well. These rules come from and for us all. The “Bro Bachelor Party Code.”
Thy Bachelor Party Email
A generic email is sent out with a subject line like “How about that game last night?” from the best man and brother(s) to all the bachelor’s bros. Make sure it’s secure. Just in case any outsiders like girlfriends or wives may read it. Tell all the guys that the bachelor party planning has been initiated. Email back if interested. Boom. No details yet. Hash that shit out once you get the replies.
Thy Two Types of Bachelor Parties
There is the home. And there is the away. You can have one. You can have both. Sometimes there are a few. Either way, this must be communicated to the bachelor and the participants. Everyone must be allowed the essential allocated time to plan. Many bachelor parties get fucked up because there is a failure to communicate. Don’t fuck it up!
Thy Bachelor Party Essentials
All that generic golf, spa, camping, fishing shit etc. can or cannot happen. This is the real shit right here! Dinner-to please the old fuckers and weirdos so you can get rid of them and the bachelor’s future in-laws early so the ugly shit can then happen. Booze-goes without saying. Transportation-to get every single guy around. Especially the bachelor. Naked Girls-whether it’s a strip club, strippers in a hotel or getting regular chicks naked on the party bus, it must happen. Casino-Vegas or the local Indian casino. Doesn’t matter. Find one.
Ye ‘Ol Bachelor
It’s about him. Period. But he has no say. And can’t know what is going to happen ahead of time. This way he can’t get into shit with the bride to be before the party and say something like “Suzie doesn’t want any gambling or strippers.” Yeah ok buddy. Fuck Suzie. So you don’t tell him shit! And he must get drunk within proportion to what you are doing to him. He will need to be functional enough to take the whole night in. Bachelor party bros’ job is to make sure the bachelor has fun not die. His wife can slowly kill him over time after the honeymoon. Zing!
Ye guys go to dinner
Have this dinner. Nice and early. For the bride’s dad, uncles, brothers and cousins. Feed them. Chat them up. And then let them know it’s time for them to go. Be nice. But be firm. I don’t give a shit if the bachelor thinks any of them are cool. These guys are not a part of the inner circle. They will make the bachelor feel weird during one of his lap dances or 82nd shot. Get rid of them. All of them. Even his dad and annoying, weird hillbilly relatives. Shit just got real.
There shall be no physical proof the party ever happened. Ever.
If you bring a camera you get punched in the face. If you take a pic with your phone, it gets smashed in your face. If you check-in/foursquare in any place on the bachelor party path, you get stabbed in the face.
There shall be naked women
Doesn’t matter if the bachelor was firmly against this. He’ll be happy as a pig in shit when he has some big ass titties in his face. Whether it’s on the bus, in the club or in a Vegas suite in the Bellagio the naked women must happen. It’s his last hurrah. Whether he engages in sexual activities or not with them is totally up to the bachelor. Just pay for him. Don’t ever judge him. And always act like it didn’t happen. He may be a douche for doing it, but it’s his party.
There shall be gambling
A card game. A casino. Flipping fucking quarters behind the 7-11. An intense game of friggin’ Uno! Whatever. Gamble!
There shall be lots of booze
At the dinner. The bus. The hotel. The bar. The strip club. The club club. Booze all over the place! The bachelor should have a drink at all times. Doesn’t need to double fist. Just never thirsty.
There shall be no communication to thy outside world
No phone calls. No texts. No facebooking. Not for the groom. Not for anybody! Who the fuck are you talking to at a bachelor party while you’re smashed and have 2 naked chicks molesting each other on the stage in front of you anyways?! Just take the groom’s phone from him right after the dinner.
Thy groom never ever sends flowers to thy crazy bride
This admits guilt or will make the bride think you’re guilty of something even if you didn’t do anything dumb ass. It isn’t sweet. It isn’t smart. Shut up. The guys must make sure the bachelor doesn’t do this on an away bachelor party. This is a major bachelor party foul.
All bros shall pay. No freebies.
Any cheap dudes need not come. Seriously. Bachelor parties are not cheap. If you can’t participate, stay home. Nothing personal but nobody likes that guy who can’t pay when it’s his round. Or doesn’t throw in for any of the entertainment or anything. Just stay the hell home and take the bachelor out for some drinks on your own.
There shall be fear!
Sometimes the occasional bride brother or rat bastard cousin makes it on the whole bachelor party run. As the bachelor’s bro it is your job to either install fear into the hearts of them or pay to have some dirty sexual shit done to them to keep them silent. I’ve offered to kill a couple of the bride’s brothers in my time but the bachelor stopped me. So I just threatened the shit out of them then had a hot ass waitress do mouth to mouth shots to them. It worked.
Thy Bachelor Pays for Nothing
Not a single drink. Not one cover charge. Not one gas station stop snack. Not one lap dance. Not one hand job. NOTHING!!! I’ve seen too many bachelors pay out of pocket for shit on their bachelor parties because their buddies were either too cheap, broke or selfishly looking out for themselves to cover for them. Bullshit. He doesn’t pay. That’s it.
AFTER THY PARTY!
Nobody shall ever talk about the bachelor party once it has ended!
The bachelor cannot talk to the bride about it. The other bros cannot talk to each other about it. You are now bonded to that inner bro circle for life. Whether you are long time friends or total strangers with the other bros. You never bring up what another bro did at that bachelor party if you ever end up in an argument with that bro. And no one can talk to anyone outside of the bachelor party about it ever! It’s like it never happened. Get it? Good.
So there you have it. The latest chapter in T’s Bro Code. The Bro Bachelor Party Code. I don’t want to see any dudes messing up any other bachelor parties from this moment on. Or even speaking about them. Ever. You now know the deal. It has been written, so shall it be!
What did you think of the latest Bro Code chapter? Is it right on? Did it help? Did this one break Bro Code? Let me know! You know the deal. Right here or on Twitter and Facebook!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Does Poughkeepsie in 3 Paragraphs” Post
The Albanian bartender was hotter
*I’ve decided to do a series of blog posts that capture my travels throughout my life. In 3 paragraphs. I’ll post them every once in a while. Some places I’ve been to a few times, others only once. And some I will probably never go back to because of what went down there.
If you’re from Poughkeepsie you may not want to read this “T Does City in 3 Paragraphs.” I’m serious. Ok. I warned you. I fucking hate Poughkeepsie. It is the taint of America. THE TAINT!!! The ass ball connector! It is horrible. I’ve been to Po-Town once in my life and I will never, ever go back. Now some people have their stereotypical opinions on why they think Poughkeepsie sucks. Not me. I have a legit beef with that fucking place. It’s personal. It’s ugly. And it’s time I tell the story right here on t-blawg. Most of my friends know this story. Because they laugh because they know me. Now years later I can laugh. But it took me over 3 years to get over what transpired there.
Enter November 2007. A good friend of mine moved back home to Poughkeepsie. She’s a really close friend. A member of my bullpen. She would always come back to Boston to visit so I figured I should visit her there. Plus I wanted to see her life there. I left work at 7PM on a Friday night. Shot to the store to pick up a nice new button up. Was on the Mass Pike by 8:30. After 3 & ½ hours of driving by myself and pumping red bull I finally got to her house. She and her roommate greeted me with wine. We killed that quick. Then we went to the only damn club in the whole town. I will not even give that place any publicity on my blog. Let’s call it “Fuckface.” The bartender was smoking hot and loved my Boston attitude. We hit it off. She gave me drinks. All the while this town unbeknownst to me, was apparently an Albanian mafia heavy town. That’s cool yo. I like everybody. Until there is a problem. So some Albanians in “Fuckface” didn’t like that the hottie Albanian bartender liked me. And I guess some of the Albanian chicks there were grilling me and their dudes didn’t like that either. So I kept drinking. “Fuckface” closes earlier than most spots and everybody left. I go to grab my expensive jacket in an empty coat check and it’s gone. This was a problem.
I’m from East Boston. Growing up, people would beat your ass and take your coat, hat and sneakers all the time. Well I never let that happen to me as a kid. So as an adult that shit was not going to happen to me in this hillbilly town in this club “Fuckface.” I went nuts. The cops came. They questioned people who worked at “Fuckface.” Nothing. They played video footage back. Nothing. And no coat room video camera either. So now everybody from “Fuckface” said to try the bar next door because the degenerates from this club may have stolen my jacket and went over there to finish the night. Cops told me not to, I did anyways. I looked around. My coat wasn’t there. I’m so drunk at this point I don’t even remember what the Albanian dudes from “Fuckface” look like. So after the police leave, hey fuck the police, I take the prison approach. Which is “Go after the biggest dog in the yard and beat his ass to set an example.” Hey I was drunk and angry. I know. And stupid. So, I go up to the biggest Albanian in there, shove my forearm into his throat and slam him against the wall demanding my jacket. Ten bouncers pull me out of there. I get on the phone to some old school Boston buddies and tell them to drive to Po-Town so we can blow this town up. My cousin told me to calm down and to be careful of the Albanian mafia. What?! He said I could get into some shit and I was far from Boston. Nobody told me about this before I decided to come to Poughkeepsie. I really wish somebody did. My friend and her brother took me to my first real diner and calmed me down. I went back to “Fuckface” the next day and scared the owner a bit. He cut a check for my coat. It wasn’t about the money. It was the principle. That was the last time the old me ever showed his face again. Thank God. I apologized to my friend. Spent the next night freezing my ass off without a coat and then went back home to Boston the next day. I vowed to never go back to Poughkeepsie again. I fucking hate Poughkeepsie. But I love Boston the most.
What do you think of this “T Does Some City”??? Definitely a negative review but look what happened! Have you ever been to Po-Town? What was your experience? And were you aware of the Albanian mafia??? I want to know! Here or on the Facebook page or tweet me on Twitter.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Another Birthday Epiphany?” Post
Just once. Please God. Just one fucking bday let it happen!
It’s my birthday. Another year gone by. Another year starting. So it’s time for another birthday epiphany post. This was last year’s. Last year I was humbled. I got hit with some major ass kryptonite and Superman lost his ability to fly. So I entered my “Legendary” Larry Bird year humanized. What did I learn during my Larry Bird year? A lot actually. I learned who my real family is. Who my real friends are. But most importantly, I learned a lot about myself. What I’m really capable of. And I learned that I have a lot of resolve. I learned that once I put my mind and heart into something, I get it done. I accomplish. I don’t break. This has actually been one hell of a fantastic year for me when I really think about it. The world tested the shit out of T and I stood tall. When all the dust was settled and all the smoke had cleared, I came out on top. Finally. After 2 years of battling in almost every aspect possible, I had won. I came through in the clutch. And I enter my Truth/Clutch year. My Paul Pierce/David Ortiz year.
What do I want to happen during this next year? Hmm. Again, I don’t let the age number dictate my life. I also don’t go by the regular fiscal year. I go birthday to birthday. So this year I just want it all. That’s right. Everything that I want I am going to get. And that’s the Truth. So I need to come through in the Clutch. Like only I can. I’m swinging for the fucking fences this year baby! I’m getting the title. Another title for Titletown! My banner is getting raised to the rafters. I want the success. I want the girl. I want Hollywood. I want my family to be set. I’m going toe to toe and taking out anything and anyone that gets in my way. Nothing is stopping me. I now have the foundation built and a life tested playbook for success. Now it’s just time to execute.
I definitely could write about my awesome annual bday bash that always has the same people there every year when I write these. My closest people. My inner circle. The ones who help me do what I do. The ones I do it for. They know this. Those parties are fucking epic. Let’s just say Puffy and Jay-Z don’t have shit on T’s birthday parties. But I would rather write about where my head is at. Where my heart is at. Where my life is at during my birthday. I think everybody should reflect on their birthday. The year that passed. The year ahead. It really is an epiphany. Your eyes are opened. Your head is cleared. Your heart is realigned. You see the Truth. You see what you have done or need to do in the Clutch. This is where I’m at. This is the year I have ahead for myself. And I’m fucking pumped for it! It’s my Paul Pierce year. My David Ortiz year. Watch next year’s post. Mark my words. Happy bday to T.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “The Origin of T” Post
I keep evolving yo
How did I become the man who writes this blog every Monday? A crazy bastard who lived through so much crazy shit? An opinionated, educated, creative, innovating smooth ladies man whose gift and curse may force him to live a permanent single life of awesomeness? Sometimes a funny yet rude Boston dude? How did I become T? Well get your popcorn ready. Pull up a chair. Pour yourself a glass of Courvoisier. And listen…um…read. Because I wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always this cool. Some people feel that somebody, some woman, some thing must have had done a number on me to make me this way. This cynical. This experienced. This crazy. This honest. This opinionated. This funny. This awesome. This….humble. Yeah right. Well here’s how I came to be. The Origin of T.
After his epic battle with death at birth and his evil childhood moments….T still was always a good student. Always in the advanced classes. He was in the National Honor Society. Carried a 4.0 grade point average. He only missed 8 days of school his entire life. Seriously. He didn’t go to school because he liked it. Oh no. It was actually pretty easy for him. But he went every single day because he knew that good grades led to college which led to a good job which led to money which led to a better life. A way out. At times he actually took school a little too seriously. But outside of school, especially at home, he had developed one hell of an attitude problem. He needed that attitude he thought. It was his edge. T needed it to stay sharp. Yeah. At his childhood home. He had his reasons in which he probably won’t ever truly disclose on t-blawg. Maybe one day he will. Just trust T on this. So, his book smarts combined with his uncanny street ways with a little bad attitude mixed in, created one hell of a living, breathing, human contradiction. That was his youth. A good kid dealt a crappy hand? Yeah. But he always kept his sense of humor. Thanks to his strong mother, caring sister and equally crazy cousin. They kept him level headed. They kept him going. Seriously. This was when T was just a kid! From the ages of birth to like 13. Crazy right?! Normal childhoods are for pussies. That’s what T told myself.
T knew he was smart. He knew he was ballsy. He knew he was a badass. He just needed a nickname to go along with it. He was a dog. He lived on the third floor of an old three-family East Boston apartment building. His old Italian landlord kept a sign up that said “Beware of the dog.” This is why his friends started to call him T-Dog. And that name would stay with him for the rest of his life. T’s late teen years and early twenties were full of some crazy shit. His closest friends never knew which T was out with them. The smart college T. The angry gets into fights T. The loyal friend T. The hustler T. The funny charming ladies man T. Or the self destructive hates the world T. To this day he is very thankful for all the shit that the people in his life had to put up with during this time. And T managed. With a smile on his face. After all the gym time. After all the scars. After all the tats. He went on the straight and narrow. Graduated college. Calmed down. T entered corporate America and put most of his old life and ways behind him. Biz-T came to be. T went on the nightlife scene and met some spectacular women. And some not so spectacular. He had his heart broken. Twice. Smartened him up and made him search for a good woman. But occasionally dirty womanizing Nasty T would show up. He now embraced his inner cynicism. A little bitter. And the world later got T Thomas, the writer. The talent. Let’s just say T had many nicknames to match his many sides. Which he definitely should’ve seen a therapist about many years ago. But T never did. His sense of humor, charm, talent, loyalty and ambition, along with his legendary past full of trials and tribulations gave the world a living legend. T blogged about that once. T hopes you read it.
After years of becoming one hell of a man, T was comfortable with who he had become. He wanted to share his life, experiences, tales and opinions with the world. This is where his writing came into play. After at first only utilizing MySpace and Facebook to charm many many hot women, he listened to his inner circle of close friends and family. They said “T. Your updates and comments are hilarious!” and “You’re the man! Dude, you say shit and do things nobody else does.” T knew this. He always knew this! He was already a writer to a certain degree but the world did not get to see it from T’s point of view. It was time. The people wanted a blog. The people wanted T! The people wanted t-blawg!!! A place that captures T’s many sides while being entertained thanks to the mind of a one of a kind genius who always takes it there. A ladies man. A real man. A former punk. A writer. A businessman. A true Bostonian. A recovered asshole. A man who sometimes lived in his own crazy world! But what if this world collided with the regular world? What would happen??? t-blawg would happen. And here we are today. Is it really T’s world and we’re all just living in it now? He sure thinks so. And now you know. The Origin of T.
What did you think? Is it all starting to make sense now or you more confused than ever??? Tweet the kid. Facebook the kid. BuzzFeed the kid. Or holla right here people.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Uncle T” Post
Because Uncle Jesse was cool and Uncle Joey was an idiot. Cut. It. Out.
I’m a lot of things. There are a lot of things I’m good at. Some things I’m not good at. Some things I like being. Some things I don’t like being. But there’s one thing I like being. And I must say, I’m pretty good at it. And that’s being an uncle. I’m an uncle to 6 kids. 4 girls. 2 boys. From the ages of 1 through 12. And I’m even Godfather to 3 of them! That’s right! Their parents actually think I’m capable of handling that kind of responsibility. But you know what? They’re right. I can. Because they know I’m smart enough, crazy enough and love those kids so much that I’ll do anything for them. Like what you ask? Well. Let T tell you. Here’s what I’ve learned being the coolest, most awesome uncle of all time!!!
An uncle gets to spoil the kids. And get away with it.
Unlike grandparents, we don’t get yelled at for buying their love. We can buy them the loudest, craziest toys and then just say, “That’s what Ma told me they wanted.” Haha. Blame the old people!
An uncle gets to teach the kids about all the crazy shit he thinks is cool.
Like why I refuse to put a “Welcome” mat outside my door. Because vampires can read. And that lets them in at night. To kill you. And why I have a ninja sword in my closet. To fight the ninjas. And a zombie kit. For when the shit goes down uncle is always prepared! And you know what? The kids will think it’s cool too. Or crazy. Either or.
An uncle gets to beat the kids at their own games.
I’m an UNO champion. I just may very well be the greatest UNO player on the planet. Yeah. Seriously. And every time I play my nieces? I beat their asses. Silly. What?! Let them win? Hell no! How else are they supposed to learn that life won’t be fair for them at times? This is good for them. They should thank me.
An uncle is Superman.
I work out. I have tattoos. I live in Boston. I write movies. I dress cool. I talk cool. I’m like friggin’ Superman to my nieces and nephews. And I remind them that I am constantly. And then they laugh. Hey. As long as I can make them laugh. But it’s true. A good uncle should almost seem immortal in every way possible. My nieces and nephews feel safe and are always happy when I’m around. They have no worries. I like that they are this way around me. Little kids shouldn’t have worries.
An uncle has to go to everything. EVERYTHING.
Now you all know that I’m glad I don’t have kids right? But being an uncle comes with some responsibilities. Like attending everything I am invited to when it comes to these kids. I’ve been to so many tee ball games, dance recitals, school plays, swim meets, birthday parties, pool parties, graduations, baptisms, communions…I lost count years ago! But you know what? I loved going to each and every single thing for them. Any other kids’ shit? No way. Other kids that aren’t my nieces and nephews get on my damn nerves. Actually. Their asshole parents get on my nerves.
An uncle must perform feats that no one else can perform.
I’ve gotten all of my nieces and nephews into so many bad yet awesome habits it is ridiculous! I have taught them how to do push ups with someone on their backs. How to throw punches. How to kill monsters. How to do rear naked chokes on much larger opponents. How to do ninja flips as I toss them in the air. Every time I see them I must do these things! Must teach them new shit! They won’t take “I’m tired.” or “Next time.” for an answer! An uncle must always be ready to perform and teach his nieces and nephews some crazy ass shit that their parents will be pissed at him about! I’m open to new ideas people! The crazier, the better.
An uncle must be a genius.
My nephews are both still little and not able to read yet or have homework. However, all of my nieces are. And all of them love to read. Love to be read to. Love to ask me math questions. Science questions. History questions. I have become a walking, living friggin’ Wikipedia person! I don’t know why they save this shit for me and not their parents or grandparents but I’m kind of honored. So I need to know everything about everything! Luckily, I’m also smart as hell. And I have an iPhone with Google. Which gives me access to everything! Phew.
An uncle is a gun for hire. The contract is love.
Moms nurture. Dads discipline. Grandparents give in. Uncles? We have to be cool. Smart. Funny. Entertaining. And awesome. But most importantly, we have to put the fear of God into anyone or anything that shows even the tiniest hint of danger towards his nieces and nephews. We don’t have to play by man law. We get to beat the shit out of other kids’ dads. Beat up other opposing uncles. Random people at the carnival that look like kiddie diddlers. Boys in the schoolyard that have crushes on your nieces. Bullies that bully your nephews at daycare. All of them must feel the wrath of Uncle! There is no mercy! It is the “Number One Uncle Rule”!!! Beat the living shit out of everything for the kids. I wear this uncle badge with great honor and pride.
So that’s what I’ve learned being an uncle so far. And I love it all. More importantly, I love my nieces and nephews more than anything. Those kids are my heart and without them I definitely could’ve went an entirely different way in life. And not a good way. They make me smile and making them smile is one of the best things I get do in my life. And now my oldest niece approaches teenager status. My next uncle post might just be entirely different. Oh shit.
What do you think? Do you now have a better idea of what it’s like to be an uncle? Know any uncles cooler than me? Let me know right here. On Twitter. On Facebook. Or on BuzzFeed.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Most Awesome #Twitter Chicks” Post
No chicks were harmed in the writing of this blog post
There are tons of #hot chicks on Twitter. Tons of #funny chicks. Tons of #awesome chicks. Tons! Some I follow. Some follow me. Some read #t-blawg. Some do not. Some are from #Boston. Some are not. Some are #sports fans. Some have tons of twitter groupies. Some don’t even care. But these chicks are physically hot. #Sexy. #Smart. #Wiseasses. Combine these great qualities and you have some really awesome chicks that I relentlessly #flirt with on twitter. Hey. I’m a flirt. I’m just built that way. And there’s a huge difference between being a flirt and being a #creep. #BroCode baby. Know it. Anyways. I dig these chicks. They make Twitter fun for me on my @tblawg account. So here they are and why I dig them in 140 characters or less! My “Most Awesome #Twitter Chicks” list!*
*This list excludes those hotties listed in my Boston’s Most Hottest & Kinda Famous Women and Top 10 Future Celebrity Ex-Wives posts. Sorry ladies. Spreading the #love.
@BethaniePB:
What can I say about Bethanie? A lot. I used to get to see her every Sunday at the bar. Now she’s @Playboy’s (who also follow me BTW) “2011 Cyber Girl of the Year”. And still as nice and down to earth as ever.
@SMLxO:
A hotter, younger version of #MeganFox? Maybe. She puts up makeup videos for other hot chicks on #YouTube. And she’s a little sweetheart.
@RingPRgirl:
One of Boston’s best #PublicRelations women, a sports fan and a wiseass. She sometimes curses like a sailor. But in a hot way.
@wendyfour:
#Breasts. #justsaying.
@AmarieOrtiz:
She is a #Boston girl. She’s hot. She’s funny. And she replies to my crazy ass tweets to her with an LOL. But has yet to follow me back. It’s ok. I’ll win her follow eventually.
@MissPrestin:
Probably one of the hottest women to come out of #Canada. Her body is just ridiculous. And she tweets pics of it often. God bless this woman. Her country is still lame though.
@Krystenritter:
A funny, hot #actress who “favorited” on of my tweets once and replied to another one. Any actress who does that makes my list! A few actresses actually like t-blawg.
@carlaharvey:
I came across Carla watching an episode of #Manswers once. I asked her on Twitter if that was her. She said yes. She wears duct tape on her breasts. Nothing else. And she’s a rocker bad ass. So I follow her.
@Fnkybee:
Funny, cool ass #MILF.
@TheGrayAreaBlog:
A fellow #blogger. Knows a lot about dating like me. And a hot #LA chick. What else do you need?
@LilRingPR:
@RingPRgirl’s cute, funny, lil’ cousin with PR power too. When these #Boston women take over the world, I want to be there.
@xoMalese:
She was in the #SocialNetwork. Filmed in Boston. She replied back to two of my tweets. I now watch #VampireDiaries because of her. Not afraid to admit it.
So there they are. The elite women of My “Most Awesome #Twitter Chicks” list! Now don’t get mad ladies who did not make my list this time. Maybe a little more #TwitterLove and you’ll make the next one. I’m just kidding. #notreally
#Like the list?! Tweet me!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “The 1st Ten: T’s Action Flick” Post
Mafia, violence, sex and death. What else do you need?
In case you didn’t know, I’m not just an honest, funny, original blogger. I’m also a screenwriter. And some of you have asked to read some of my scripts. Ok. Some of my work is being shopped around but I would like to share some material right here on t-blawg. Copyrighted material! So you steal it, I sue! In Hollywood if you can get somebody to read through the first ten pages, then you may have a decent script. It’s the introduction. So I am presenting a new feature here on t-blawg. It’s called “The 1st Ten”.
This script is an action movie. R rated. Think “Seven” meets “The Crow.”
How does a betrayed hit man redeem his soul while trying to bring a balance between Heaven and Hell during his time in purgatory?
I present “T’s Action Flick”:
*Don’t mind the formatting here!
FADE IN:
INT. ST. PETER’S CHURCH — NIGHT
The fallen angel, REDEMPTION, is explaining the history of God and Satan; angels and demons; Heaven and Hell. We do not see Redemption.
Images of drawings and colors are blurred across the screen.
Drawings and paintings of Jesus on the cross and Satan in Hell are shown in and out of focus. Along with images of beautiful angels and disgusting demons.
Blurred images of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are shown as well. Images of Death, War, Pestilence and Famine.
Candles are lit around the church altar.
REDEMPTION (V.O.)
Many believe that Satan was an angel cast from Heaven. An angel that was once the closest angel to God. An angel that sinned. Some say he became a fallen angel.
(beat)
Once an angel falls into the depths of hell, the angel becomes a demon. Sentenced to an afterlife of eternal pain. Eternal suffering. Paying for those sins forever.
(beat)
The angels and demons; they are also the soldiers of Heaven and Hell. Soldiers for God and Satan. Soldiers readying for the Apocalypse. Armageddon. The end of time.
(beat)
But there are angels and demons that have escaped Hell. Left Heaven. They are among mankind.
(beat)
What happens to man when he sins? He is judged at his time of death. His time in purgatory is when it is decided where he will go in the afterlife.
(beat)
An angel in Heaven or a demon in Hell.
(beat)
But sometimes that is a difficult judgement to make.
EXT. BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS — DAY
We see a shot of the beautiful city’s skyline.
SUPERIMPOSE: THIRTEEN YEARS AGO
INT. DON CICCONE’S HOUSE — DAY
DON MULININO CICCONE, an old and physically weak man, is talking to FRANCO “FRANKIE GUNS” MOCELLI, forty something, a tall, handsome man, as a jealous VINCENT “VISCERA” CICCONE, forty something as well, an evil and heartless man and knows it, stops at the doorway to listen unnoticed to his father and Franco.
DON CICCONE
You’re one of the main reasons why the pact has been kept for the past seven years since the last war between the families Franco.
FRANCO
Yeah, a hit man keeping the peace.
DON CICCONE
Something different I know, but this is how it’s supposed to be. For the children and for us. In the after life.
FRANCO
Where I end up isn’t important. It’s about Dante and Italya. That’s what matters.
DON CICCONE
Same for the LoPello children as well.
Viscera walks in.
VISCERA
I think the LoPellos have a different plan Dad.
Viscera hugs his father and kisses his cheek.
DON CICCONE
What are you talking about?
VISCERA
The word I got is that DON LOPELLO is planning a hit.
(beat)
On us.
FRANCO
This info come from your guys?
Viscera walks over to Franco.
VISCERA
My horsemen are reliable soldiers Frankie. Their word is the truth old buddy.
FRANCO
(leaning into Viscera)
Like yours?
VISCERA
(smiling)
Exactly!
DON CICCONE
Alright. Enough. Don LoPello knows that the families can co-exist. We can’t work together or kill each other in our homes or at the church. It’s not the way.
VISCERA
The pact is old and ridiculous! We need to hit them first! Take those motherfuckers out once and for all and end all this shit!
DON CICCONE
(angry)
Shut your mouth! This is the way it’s got to be and you know that!
VISCERA
This shit with the church and the angels and demons, hell and heaven, life and death, honor and fucking pacts! It’s the old way! We’re men! We’re humans! We eat. We drink. We fuck! We kill! We sin! We take what we want!
Don Ciccone and Franco look at him.
VISCERA (CONT’D)
(angry)
It’s time for war!
(beat)
If I was Don-
FRANCO
(interrupting)
But you’re not Vis. You’re not.
Viscera looks at Franco and smiles.
DON CICCONE
We are not going to war. But this is something we have to be sure about. Franco, at ALESSANDRA’s birthday at the LoPello house, find out. Get answers. Members from both families will be there for the celebration of Don LoPello’s daughter’s birthday.
FRANCO
DANTE will be there too. I’m not killing anybody in the LoPello house with my son around.
DON CICCONE
There will be no death in the house, not where any of the children are, you know that.
VISCERA
Again with the old ways! You think they will honor that when they are planning to hit us?
DON CICCONE
Some people still have honor!
Viscera gives him a dirty look and starts to storm off.
VISCERA
(walking out)
And some are still blind fools living in another time!
DON CICCONE
Start with Arno. See what he knows.
FRANCO
Why him?
DON CICCONE
This fool isn’t as blind as some may think he is.
Franco nods agreeing to do what he has been asked by his Don.
EXT. DON LOPELLO’S HOUSE — DAY
It’s ALESSANDRA LOPELLO’s, 13, birthday. There are balloons, lots of children and adults all sitting at tables in the large yard of this enormous house. Men dressed in expensive suits are sitting together talking to each other. It is obvious that these men are from the two opposing families.
DON LOPELLO, 43, and his men are sitting at their own tables while Don Ciccone and his men are sitting at another.
Viscera is sitting at a table with four men. His Four Horsemen. BOBBY DELUCA, a handsome man in a pale suit sits next to Viscera; this is Death. Next to him, wearing a red suit is MAD MIKEY SALERNO; this is War. He is skinny with red hair. Next to him is SAL AINELLO; this is Pestilence wearing a white suit. He is rugged and tough. Sitting next to him is LORENZO CICCONE, a very heavy man dressed in a black suit; this is Famine.
BOBBY
I can’t stand being at this house with them.
VISCERA
Don’t worry Bobby. Things are about to change.
Viscera gives him an evil smile as he places his hand on his arm. Death returns the smile.
INT. PLAYROOM DON LOPELLO’S HOUSE — DAY
DANTE MOCELLI, 13, GREG HARMON, 13, and Alessandra LoPello are playing.
GREG
So now that you’re a teenager Sandy, you think your dad will let you have a boyfriend? Like maybe Dante?
DANTE
Shut up Greg.
Alessandra smiles.
ALESSANDRA
Maybe. But my boyfriend would have to be cute and a really good kisser.
DANTE
How would you know who’s a good kisser?
ALESSANDRA
Only one way to find out.
She kisses Dante quickly. Dante turns red.
GREG
Oh man! Look at how red you are! I’ve never seen an Italian turn that red! You look all sunburned guy!
Greg hits Dante in the arm.
Embarrassed, Dante runs off.
Alessandra hits Greg. He shrugs.
INT. LIBRARY DON LOPELLO’S HOUSE — DAY
Franco is holding ARNO LOPELLO against the wall.
ARNO
(scared)
I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about Frankie!
FRANCO
Don’t lie to me Arno. If you were with any other family I would’ve killed you by now. Tell me what I need to know. Is Don LoPello planning a hit on our family?
ARNO
No Frankie! You know we can’t do that!
FRANCO
Then what’s going on?
ARNO
It was Vis and me. We-
FRANCO
(angry)
What?! You two what?!
Dante is running down the hall and hears the commotion.
He hears his father’s voice. He stops in front of the library door and listens.
ARNO
We’ve been working together, bringing in China White and putting it on the streets through his horsemen.
FRANCO
(upset)
You two have been putting heroin on the street together? What the fuck are you two doing? YOU KNOW THE RULES WE LIVE BY! Both Dons would have you two killed!
ARNO
(terrified)
You can’t say anything to them! Or to Viscera Frankie!
FRANCO
You both have to answer for this. The consequences are worse than death Arno.
ARNO
No!
Arno goes for one of Franco’s two holstered guns. Both have silencers.
Dante hears the struggle and opens the door to see his father and Arno fighting over the gun. Franco pulls the gun down and it goes off into Arno. He drops.
Franco turns and sees that his son just witnessed the event.
FRANCO
Dante!
Greg is walking down the hallway looking for Dante.
He walks up to the doorway.
GREG
Dante, where are you guy?
Dante looks at his father and rushes out of the room to stop Greg from seeing what happened.
GREG (CONT’D)
There you are. Are you ok?
DANTE
(stunned)
Yeah. Yeah.
(beat)
Where’s Alessandra?
GREG
She went outside looking for you guy.
DANTE
Let’s go find her.
Dante drags Greg away.
Franco looks out and sees what Dante did.
INT. DON CICCONE’S LIVING ROOM — LATER
Franco and Viscera are alone face to face.
FRANCO
(angry)
I need to talk to your father now!
VISCERA
I told you, he’s sleeping. He’s an old, sick man Frankie! Talk to me. What happened exactly?
FRANCO
I’ll tell your father.
VISCERA
Tell me.
FRANCO
Arno LoPello is dead. I shot him and brought his body to the church where we’re all supposed to go.
VISCERA
(happy)
You killed him? In the LoPello house?
Franco stares at him.
VISCERA (CONT’D)
Good for you! You’re a hit man! You earned your paycheck Frankie!
He puts his hand on his shoulder. Franco pulls his arm off him and grabs him.
FRANCO
You motherfucker! I know what the two of you were doing!
VISCERA
Fuck what that piece of shit told you! He was trying to save his ass!
Viscera’s Four Horsemen walk in.
VISCERA (CONT’D)
(smiling)
Now get your fucking hands off me Frankie.
Franco looks at the Horsemen.
FRANCO
I’m not afraid of you or them.
VISCERA
You should be.
Franco lets him go.
FRANCO
My son saw what I did today. I’m going home to talk to him. I want out of this.
VISCERA
You know there’s no way out. We’re all in it for life and even the after life right?
He looks at his horsemen and they all laugh.
VISCERA (CONT’D)
Go home to your family Frankie. Clear that head of yours. Then we can talk about what we’re going to tell Dad. Cause you’re like a son to him. Shit, I think you are more of a son to him than I am sometimes!
FRANCO
When I come back, the Don will hear it all Vis. Every detail.
Franco turns around to leave. Bobby and Mikey block his path.
FRANCO (CONT’D)
Get the fuck out of my way.
Bobby looks at Viscera. Viscera gives him a nod to let Franco pass.
Death turns to let him pass.
VISCERA
(as Franco leaves)
Remember Frankie! We’re all family here!
Bobby walks up to Viscera.
BOBBY
Will the war start now?
VISCERA
We’ll have to make sure it does.
BOBBY
What do you mean?
VISCERA
Arno’s death isn’t enough.
The horsemen all look at Viscera.
VISCERA (CONT’D)
Frankie Guns must die.
(beat)
Kill him and his entire family.
(beat)
No sign that it was us. Make it look like it was the LoPellos.
Bobby smiles. He puts on his sunglasses and leads the Horsemen away.
Viscera lights a cigar.
So there it is. I shared the 1st ten pages of my action movie with a sci-fi twist. Lots of shit goes down in this movie! Let’s of murder and mayhem with some thinking man’s content. A real stylized movie. Hope you liked what you’ve read so far!
Would you read more??? Would you go see this movie?! Let me know on here, Facebook, BuzzFeed or Twitter!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “If I Was Married” Post
I hope a shark ate them both
So many married people say to me “You know what I would do if I was single?” Then proceed to give me what they think is advice. Or their poor attempt at humor. With a tone that makes me want to punch them in their throats. It’s so annoying. So condescending. So sarcastic. Making insane statements about how they would be so awesome if they were single. More awesome than any other single person out there. Like all us single people are doing it wrong. Fucking sons of bitch bastards. I don’t judge you so why do you judge me? You can’t tell someone how to live their life. Now, most of my close married friends are very respectful. But every now and then I come across a douchebag married couple that gives me shit. So. Here’s my advice back. Here’s my shit back. And you all know T can give it back when he wants to. Here’s my “You know what I would do if I was married?” post. You’ve been warned.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would be having sex with my wife and my wife only.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would be spending time with my kids instead of having them raised by their grandparents.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t be on Twitter or Facebook pretending to be single to meet girls.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t be hanging out with my ex.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t be working for somebody else making them rich while I live paycheck to paycheck.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t be in debt out my ass relying on help from my in-laws.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t be a fat fuck who eats like shit and doesn’t work out.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would be able to satisfy my wife.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t be bitching to anyone who would listen about how my life sucks.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t go to Disney once a year just for the sake of telling people we go to Disney once a year.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t inundate my friends with pics of houses, cars, kids, vacations etc. constantly to try to one-up them in life.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would never say that high school or college were the best years of my life.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t rely on my single buddy to set up every night out to make sure I have a good time.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would never struggle to remove my ring in my left pocket when meeting a beautiful woman.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would never pay to bang whores at a whore house and say “Every married guy does it.”
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would never put my hands on my wife or kids.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would never tell my kids that they couldn’t be anything they wanted to be in life.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would never expect my wife to say or do anything for me that I wasn’t already saying and doing for her.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would never have to buy a big ass car or boat or jump out an airplane to prove that I am still a real man.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I would still have my own identity and not become “Oh. He’s married now that’s why.” guy.
You know what I would do if I was married?
I wouldn’t put my kids in every sport, school and activity just to one-up other people’s kids because for fuck sake they’re kids!
You know what I would do if I was married?
Most importantly. I wouldn’t talk down to my single friends about how they live their lives because I would remember that they are my friends and would know the difference between giving honest, heart felt advice and being a douchebag.
Now how was that all you condescending married dicks??? That’s some messed up cake right?! Pretty harsh. Well. Now you know how it feels. All you awesome, non-judging married couples out there? Keep it up! You rule! The rest? Smarten the fuck up. Thank you.
One of my harshest posts or just good ol’ T truth? You tell me. Here. Twitter. Facebook. Buzzfeed.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Office Sex. Don’t Do It!” Post
This is how it starts. Like a damn porno. I'm telling you!
Ah office sex. Some say it’s taboo. Some say it’s wrong. Some say it’s dangerous. Some say it’s stupid. And you know what? They’re right. Because I know. Because I’ve done it all when it comes to office sex. It’s cool to become friends with people you work with. Hell after college, work and friends of friends are the only ways you can mostly make new friends. But banging them?! NO! How am I an expert? Am I just talking shit? How do I know? Well I’ll tell you some stories that gave me this profound knowledge. I did all the wrong things that led to these conclusions! I was stupid. I was young. I liked danger. But mostly, I was horny. Learn from T here people. Please. I’ll save you the trouble. I’ll save you the embarrassment. I’ll save you the frustration. I’ll save you from losing your job. I’ll save you from heartbreak. Yes, heartbreak. Because all those things happened to me. I’ll break it down for you. Learn from my office sex experiences people. Office sex? Don’t do it. These experiences cover the whole messy office sex spectrum.
My first office sex experience happened when I was in my early 20s. It was with an older chick in another department. She was cool. She was cute. She had an amazing apple ass. And she was married. We flirted a lot. One night we hooked up after the office holiday party. After that she started to talk about leaving her husband and wanting a relationship with me. I thought that was crazy as fuck and told her so. It didn’t go over too well. But she got the point. I did too. No issues really after that between us because I avoided the shit out of her and it put me on the straight and narrow at work for the next few years. Then I hit the wall. Big time. I left that company and ended up working with these 2 chicks. They were friends. Good friends. We all became friends. One was in a serious relationship but looking to get out. I became her “emotional work boyfriend”. Yeah I know. Stupid. That work boyfriend title is a fucking joke. No man deserves that. I actually fell for this chick. Then she broke my heart and the asshole in me came out so I started to hook up with the other chick out of spite. Just straight sex shit. She ended up having a boyfriend while this was going on too. She was also a weed/ecstasy/cokehead. I didn’t touch the shit but she did. Too much. Between the 2 of them, tons of lies and the shadiness that took over both my professional and personal lives, I was a mess. Both chicks then became bat shit crazy. It spilled into the office. I almost killed one of the managers. And in the end, I left the company and both chicks kept their jobs but still ended up hating me. See? Office sex usually starts off fun, but there will always be casualties. Always.
Two years later I ended up working with a chick at another place. So not my type. But she threw herself at me every single day. Every single day! So I finally gave in. I banged her in my office “Basic Instinct” style. She was a total slampig. Then I started to hook up with a chick that worked for her. She was a young Brazilian hottie yoga enthusiast. So hot. I actually liked her. Our hooking up led to dating. Which was rare for me. We kept it out of the office. This went on for a couple of months. Her boss the dirty slampig was suspicious. But we didn’t care. Then it turned out my hottie was in the country illegally. The Feds came and deported her ass. WTF?! Random right? Only me. I think the slampig boss blew the whistle. I can’t prove it but the psycho most likely did. After my hottie got shipped back to Brazil, I quit that place and went to another company. At this new place was a hottie intern. I stayed on the straight and narrow for about the first 2 months. Then her internship ended and we banged like jackrabbits as soon as she punched out at 5:00PM on her last day. She was young. In college. And kept those odd college chick hours that they keep. I was a grown ass man with things to do. So, she got on my nerves after 2 weeks. This was it for me. I was done. She was my last office sex hookup. I retired from office sex. I went out with a bang. Literally. They raised my jersey to the rafters. My office sex wild oats were sewn. That was over 3 years ago. Enough of this shit.
See what I’m saying? This was not a bragging post. This was a I was stupid so you don’t have to be post. What did we learn about office sex? Don’t do it! But if you must do it you horny stupid son of a bitch bastard, make sure it’s:
not with somebody in your department;
not with somebody in a relationship using you as a way out;
not with a crazy ass career killing sex fiend psycho;
not with somebody who calls you their “work boyfriend/girlfriend”;
not with a way younger college intern who annoys the shit out of you constantly;
not with somebody who oversees your responsibilities like a manager who can get your ass deported;
and definitely not with somebody whose responsibilities you oversee and can go all HR on your stupid ass.
But I’m telling you. Don’t shit where you eat! Don’t dip your pen in the company ink! Don’t make your vagina a corporate mouse pad! Wait, what? Anyways. Nothing good comes from office sex. Unless of course you do it right. Which you really can’t ok? And now you know. And knowing is half the battle…wait did I just quote GI Joe???
What do you think? Have any office sex stories? Are you in the middle of an office sex story? Did your office sex story have a happy ending? ZING! Holla at me! Get the tweeting, facebooking and buzzfeeding!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Bro Food Code” Post
Respect the fucking nachos, bro
The Bro Code saga continues! I’ve been applying my T Bro Code rules to every aspect in a guy’s life. I’m proud of what I’ve been doing with the Bro Code here on t-blawg so far. Hell, many so-called “Men’s” sites have been ripping off my Bro Code posts. And other posts too. Hacks. But I’ll continue the good fight! So here we are with the latest chapter. This one is one of the most important Bro Codes. It is something all Bros love. Almost as much as women. Almost as much as sex. Almost as much as sports. Almost as much as money. Almost as….it’s about food! Ok?! It’s the Bro Food Code! You read the title! Guys love food. It’s what makes us men. Well our penises do too. But our love for food really does too. But there are rules to food. Yep. There is. Are you ready for them? Here we go!
Food at sports games
Simple. Every other booze run must include a food run.
Late night after clubs with chicks
The bro who pulled the hot chick is obligated to pay for the late night meal. No hot chicks pulled? Just the guys? Then you all eat like the world is ending. Split the bill. Go home to bed. It was a busted night.
Wings Rule 1
The hotter the broer!
Two Bros, One Dinner
Totally ok. Boys can dine together for steaks but never dessert! NEVER DESSERT!!!
The two rule is always applicable
Two of everything: 2 hot dogs each; 2 burgers each; 2 pizzas each; 2 chicks each. ZING! And you have to finish it all!
Pizza law
Last slice is given to the bro who paid. If the bill is going to be split, first bro to grab it gets it!
The nacho system
Fuck that old “Dude. It’s one chip!” shit when you grab a bunch stuck together! A real man starts from the outside of the nacho plate and works his way into the center! Remember, only a douche grabs the mother chip in the middle first!
Wings Rule 2
Eat them all but never throw bones back into the fresh wing pile dude. Use the accompanying bone bowl you dick.
The food question
If asked by anyone, ever, “You hungry?” Your response must always be “I can eat.” Even if you just ate. Real men can eat for days dude.
The chick factor
If your girl can’t finish her food, you finish for her. If you can’t? You’re not a man. Return your penis to Jesus.
Home court advantage
He’s who house it is, is the only man allowed to touch the grill. Respect.
Food table party guy
Don’t be him! Never be that guy standing near the food table all night at the party. Go in once. Hard and fast. And you’re done. That’s what she said.
Wings Rule 3
10 cent wings & 2 dollar drafts??? The poorest bro and the richest bro at the bar can all enjoy!
Formal events
After all tables are called by number you can go up as many times as you want. Get your money’s worth! Get in my belly!!!
Holiday house pit stops
You are obligated to eat at every person’s house you go to. Except the dirty cousin’s house. We all hate eating at the dirty cousin’s house.
Awkward Bro Scorpion Bowl
Two bros shouldn’t share a scorpion bowl. But sometimes it happens. I know. Get two straws and as long as both bros don’t sip at the same time, it’s ok. Just don’t tweet about it.
Don’t count the bill guy!
You know when you ordered how much your shit will cost. All bros look at the price. You know how much your date’s shit cost too. And how many drinks you had. And how much dessert was. When the bill comes at the end of a fun group date night dinner, add it all up in your head and throw in 25% extra. Done. Don’t be that guy.
Wings Rule 4
If you’re the dude who brings the chick then you must order enough for her as well and pay for her portion of wings. Every time. No exceptions!
The Bro who is always short on the bill
You can and will call his ass out on the spot! Fuck him! He is no bro at all.
The Date 6 Rule
If you’ve been dating a chick and you reach the 6th date and if she doesn’t even attempt to reach for the bill, dump her. Dump her fast. She is a selfish, heartless succubus and this is the first sign of a life of misery with her. If she reaches for the bill, you still pay. But be happy. Because you got a keeper man!
Food shopping
It’s simple guy. Always have the bro essentials: milk, eggs, bread, peanut butter, at least 2 cereals, steak, chicken, cold cuts and of course toilet paper. Everything else is whatever.
And that is the “Bro Food Code” in a nutshell. Now you know. I don’t want to see any bros fucking up food from this point on! Ok?! Like all of T’s Bro Code chapters, print this. Keep it with you. At all times! Thank me later.
How are you liking my Bro Code posts? Let me know! I like writing them. Comment. Tweet me. Facebook me. Buzzfeed me. And definitely let me know if you’re seeing any of my posts anywhere else on the interwebs people!!!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “At First Glance Physical Female Pet Peeves” Post
Maybe it's the tight pants on her bro??? Nah.
We all know that the physical gets our attention when meeting strangers right? The personality comes later and then if that’s great the person becomes more attractive in our eyes. That’s just the way it goes. Don’t lie. Nobody sees somebody from across the room and wants to talk to them hoping they have a great personality. You hope for that after the fact. The connection after the first glance. But the first thing you see is a smile. You see hair. You see boobs. You see ass. You see height. You see muscles. You see skin tone. Well there are some things that if they are the first things I notice about a strange woman I will instantly not talk to that woman. I will not approach that woman. I will not smile back. I will not drink with her. They are shallow but they are truth! These things are the “at first glance physical female pet peeves”. And in my eyes I just can’t overlook them. I’m willing to look past Megan Fox’s toe thumbs. Or Mila Kunis’ different colored eyes. Those are kind of hot actually. But some things I can’t. Sorry I’m not sorry. Here they are.
Ass Face Chins
Men have ass face chins. Not chicks. It’s the indent in the middle of the chin that is so severe it looks like there is an ass on the bottom of your face. Women should not have these. They are scary. A little dent is ok. A Ben Affleck ass face chin is not. If I see your Ben Affleck ass face chin turn towards me at the bar, I will also turn at the bar and run away.
Adam’s Apple
If you are a chick with a giant bulging Adam’s Apple, I don’t care how hot you are, I will think you have a dick. I wouldn’t stand there and talk to you because I would freak you out by staring at that thing wondering if you tape your tucked schlong like that dude from Silence of the Lambs. “Put the lotion in the basket!!!”
Sausage Fingers
Some chicks struggle with underarm fat. It’s ok. You can work on that. But sausage fingers?! No way! Stay away from me. I know there isn’t a way to fix the problem, but I don’t care. Not my problem. Your knobby baby sausage fingers wrapped around a skinny martini glass stem are fucking creepy! I don’t want them near me. Stay the hell away.
Cankles
It’s not a calf. It’s not an ankle. It’s a cankle. Your leg just goes into your foot and it looks weird. It’s disturbing. Seeing that at the bottom of an attractive woman’s dress going into some sexy high heels is just heartbreaking. Devastating. Even with pants on if I already know a chick has them, I’m all set. They’re scary to guys like circus clowns are to women.
Muffin Top
Little love handles are kind of sexy. Something to hold onto. I like looking at a chick’s back especially if she has those lower back dimples and seeing slight love handles to grab onto. So hot. But a full fledged muffin top that falls over the top of your pants that I can see through your tight ass shirt?! Fucking gross! Go run. And do crunches. Don’t come back until that shit is shaped and maintained. Don’t need a six pack. But damn woman!
Extra Hair: Hairy Spine/Sideburns/Mustache/Hairy guy arms
Some women have extra hair in places. When I was 14 a hot chick in high school had a dress on that she unzipped in class for some reason. I saw a long hairy spine that went from the back of her neck down into her pants. WTF?! That bothered me severely. Ruined me for life. Thick dude sideburns? I don’t want to see them or touch them. Mustache? If you’re too lazy to get that maintained then that says a lot about the type of woman you are. I’m all set. Hairy arms? Hey I got them. But I’m an Italian man. I’m supposed to. You need to find a solution. All these hairy scenarios should be taken care of before we ever meet out in public. If you come up to me looking like Sonic the fucking Hedgehog I’m going to tell you to go catch some golden rings somewhere or some shit. Just saying.
Greasy Curly Hair
I like long thick flowing hair on a woman. That tight wet greasy drippy curly hair look that some women do makes you look like a sewer rat. It’s gross. And I don’t like it! Go dry and straighten that shit out before going to the club. Please. Brillo head.
Crazy Teeth
If your mouth looks like you chewed on a bag of rocks for 18 straight hours, I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to know you. Stop smiling at me from the dance floor! You’re startling me. You should’ve gotten braces as a kid. And yeah you’ll look like a damn fool with braces as a grown woman. But who’s fault is that? Maybe yours. Maybe your parents. Maybe your shitty insurance provider. But definitely not mine. I know a good dentist. Go get some posts and crowns for the next guy. You’re already tarnished for me though. With your crazy ass teeth looking all crazy.
Smokes
I don’t care how hot you are. How awesome you are. If the first thing I see is you smoking I can’t have anything to do with you. The smell. The taste. Nasty. Doesn’t matter if you only smoke when you drink. Or when you’re stressed. I don’t care. I lost a lot of people in my life to cancer. I’m not liking some chick who is going to croak from it eventually too. Nip that shit in the butt by not getting involved with you to begin with. No apologies from me. You smoke? Beat it. Go play in the canoe you got from collecting all those Marlboro Miles with some douchebag who smokes too. Then die together in a forest fire. You should’ve listened to Smokey the Bear stupid.
Those are my “at first glance physical female pet peeves”! Yeah they’re not nice. But they’re truth. And that’s how I roll. You know you do the same thing. Don’t lie.
Do you have any “at a glance physical pet peeves”? Would love to hear them! From both my male and female readers. Be honest. Share them here or on Facebook, Twitter or Buzzfeed.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “I Hate t-blawg Thieves” Post
Remember. In the end all thieves end up dead. Brah.
t-blawg.com has been around for almost two years. It started off as a blog for friends of mine who wanted to see more from me than facebook updates and less from me than my scripts. Boom. I did just that. Since then it has taken on a life of its own and I have come up with a master plan for t-blawg that will make it more than a blog thanks to all the cool people who read it and thanks to my crazy, ambitious mind! Thank you everyone for reading and keep reading and keep sharing. With that said, in the less than 2 years since t-blawg has been around it has been ripped off by so many piece of shit hack bloggers (big & small), tweeters (well known & hardly known), writers (if you could call them that) and sites like you wouldn’t believe! And I’ve let it go. Until now.
I am a one man show! I have a full time job. I also write a lot of material beyond this site. I don’t have the time or resources to put out daily content. I don’t reach millions of people. I don’t have links and ads generating revenue. I’m one dude doing something that I enjoy and it entertains tens of thousands a month from a weekly post and some tweets! That’s it. And let’s get something straight you plagiarizing fucks. You’re not me. You’re not T. I write about my life. Who I used to be. Who I am now. And who I am trying to be. In between all of that, I try to entertain by sharing my opinions like only I can. With some in your face, funny ass realness. It works because it’s me. But it doesn’t work for you because it’s not from you. It’s from me. Who am I talking to? I’m not naming names to help them out. But I will put them on blast juuuust enough.
It doesn’t work for that shitty Boston “Men’s” magazine/blog who rehashes shit article after shit article. Full of typo plagued, weak ass, poor Howard Stern slash wanna-be soft porn garbage. You’re a diddler who puts underage delusional waitresses pretending to be models on your cover and on your site. BTW. I hooked up with a lot of them back in the day. You never did. Or could. You’re no Hugh Hefner bro. You’re not even Larry Flynt. Your magazine and website is only for dudes in company sales pits who can’t let go of their frat days 10-15 years later. Fuck you and your shit. Stay away from my articles, my tweets and my followers. You’re a hack. And Tom Brady is going to fuck you up. Stick to reposting YouTube videos that everyone has already seen by the time it gets to your site.
That so-called Boston news website owned by a corrupted Boston newspaper. You allow “writers” to post articles on your site and readers are supposed to be able to comment on those articles to show that you are the “people’s newspaper.” Oh wait. Because the people actually only get to post comments on articles that get “approved.” Deemed worthy by your crack staff. Freedom of speech? Freedom of the press? My ass. Don’t rip off my shit and try to pass it off like one of your writer’s travels. That was weak. He never went to Disney and did what I did. Fuck him. Mulan wouldn’t even look at him!
My major beef however is with that piece of shit poor man’s Maxim “Guy’s” website which has blatantly ripped off a number of my posts by at least 4 of it’s pathetic hack bloggers. Not only do these articles have my content but they have my titles, my style, my list format and patented 3 act/paragraph format. And I went at the editor in chief personally and the piece of shit denied it and then blocked me on Twitter and never responded to my emails. Your site is pathetic like you. You have t-blawg envy. I bet you use my words on your girl at night trying to act like you are your own self-made man. By doing this it clearly shows your lack of talent, ambition, confidence and originality. She’s definitely banging all your boys.
What t-blawg posts have been ripped off you ask??? Well. Let me tell you.
How about my entire “Bro Code” Series?! The original rules post. The dress code post. The strip club post. The bachelor party post. And most likely, the food post along with every other future “Bro Code” post I will write!
My “I Don’t Like People in Costumes” Post
My “T’s Manscaping Rules” Post
My “Office Holiday Party Protocol” Post
My “Don’t Be That Guy” Post
My “Don’t Be That Chick” Post
I think it’s fucking pathetic. If you can’t come up with an original thought or can’t write anything entertaining then don’t rob t-blawg and try to pretend you wrote it. I know you’re reading this right now. I know who you are. Get off my dick. I’m not naming you to give you free publicity. I’ve approached each of you directly in private. You all suck at life and suffer from T envy. I see your blogs, your sites, your magazine articles, your facebooks, your tweets and your IP addresses repeatedly on my posts that you rip off. Hell. Even the hot women of Boston and Twitter that I tweet and flirt with have been approached by my imitators begging to be tweeted and followed. Just ask Maria Menounos, Erin Hawksworth, Eliza Dushku and Playboy itself to name a few!
There is a side to me beyond the writing. Beyond the funny. And I will shit on your sites/blogs. And I will shit on each of you. I will approach each of you in person out and about when I see you in Boston, NY, LA and Chicago. I will approach you like a man. And if it still goes on, I am not above going to your offices where you create garbage and rob geniuses such as myself like a maniacal demon looking for revenge! And I will get it. One way or another. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But it’ll happen. I know you’ve been reading t-blawg for awhile now so you know I’m capable of some fucked up shit. Stop it now. Or I will take it there. Consider this a warning shot. Next time I shoot to kill.
If you have seen anything that sounds like it came from me, please let me know. Here, Facebook or Twitter.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T’s Classic Halloween Moments” Post
Why are the witches wearing sheets too???
So it’s Halloween. Isn’t that special? Well not to me. Not now anyways. It used to be. Now it’s just an ok holiday in my eyes. It’s for the kids really. Little kids. Teenagers. College students. When Halloween comes to the adults it’s really about weirdos mostly. You read my take on costume people right? And it’s also about people who use Halloween as the reason to be a slut. To be extra drunk. To be a douche. I think these people just don’t have the balls to be who they really want to be the other 364 days a year. But there are some grown ass people who genuinely still just want to have a fun, scary time on Halloween. My T hat is off to you! I commend you. But there was a time in my life where I actively participated in Halloween. And of course, shit went down. T style. My classic Halloween moments. Enjoy!
Dressed Like a Little Girl Against My Will
When I was 3 years old, my mother and sister decided to dress me up as a little girl for Halloween. That’s right. It was the early 80s and little boys had shaggy mop heads that I guess were good for pigtails. I also had and still have long ass chick eyelashes. Even to this day women say they wish they had my eyelashes. I can’t stand it. So my mother and sister put makeup on me and carried me around the neighborhood trick or treating. They laughed and had a great old time. I was, am and will always be pissed about this helpless moment in my life. This is probably why I don’t care for Halloween. They still laugh about it.
Killer Candy
For some reason my mother and every mother growing up had this theory that people in the neighborhood wanted to kill little kids on Halloween. After trick or treating, we would have to throw all of our candy on the kitchen table and look for razors and poison. That’s right. Razors and poison. All of a sudden I was supposed to be a CSI forensics expert at the age of 7 and be able to tell which candy looked like it was going to kill me. How the fuck did I know??? I just kept every type of candy that I liked and put the suspicious candy into another bag. I hid the good bag in my room and placed the “poison” bag in a place where my father would find it hoping he would eat it. Because the son of a bitch always ate my candy. He would eat the “poison” candy but never died. This is how I knew this system was flawed.
Pennies
East Boston was a poor Boston neighborhood. So not everyone could give you candy. Instead, sometimes you got pennies. Yep. You would hold out your bag and some old lady or old guy would throw 3-5 pennies into it. It absolutely sucked. And it didn’t make sense. Back then a 1 pound bag of candy cost like 99 cents. I turned to my mother and said once “Why don’t these people just use all these fucking pennies and buy a bag of candy? They can give 1 piece each to like 25 kids.” My mother hit me in the head and said “Shut up. Stop being stupid.” Ok Ma.
A Charlie Brown Halloween
One year my father was “away” and my aunt and cousins came over to take me out trick or treating. My aunt convinced my mother to come with us. My mother didn’t have a costume. Our landlord’s teenage son gave her an old mask but her head ripped through it when she put it on. So my mother decided to make a ghost costume out of bed sheets. She found an old sheet. It wasn’t white. It was off white with flowers on it. Wait. It gets better. She decided to wing it where her eyes and mouth would be and randomly cut holes. She put it on and the holes didn’t line up to her face because her legs and feet were still showing. So she cut another set of holes. We left the house. My mother wore this not white, flower covered bed sheet with 6 holes in it and her legs and feet showing the entire night trick or treating. Looking more like a mental patient than any damn ghost! It was fucking awesome.
Two Season Halloween
In Boston you get two damn seasons. Winter and Summer. That’s how we roll. So as a kid I either got a hot ass Halloween or a cold as fuck Halloween. Each had their cons. I remember on hot Halloweens walking down the street sweating through my plastic He-Man mask, my plastic Lion-O mask…by the time I got to a house the mask was on my head and I just looked at the people and nodded to let them know I wasn’t in the mood for formalities and to just drop the shit in my bag. The cold ones were worse. My mother would force me to wear a big ass jacket over my costume. I would say “No one can tell that I’m Optimus Prime with this on Ma!” She would say “Do you want to get sick and die?” So I would wear my damn coat. Some mothers didn’t make their kids wear coats. Those smug bastards would laugh at my coat trick or treating but sure enough, they always got sick the next day at school. And couldn’t enjoy their tasty candy. Haha. Revenge fuckers! Thanks Ma.
The Awkward Yet Awesome Cusp Year
The cusp year is the year that you are officially too old to go trick or treating and still too young to go out with your friends and cause illegal damage in East Boston. It varies on the kid and his parents. My cusp year was 13. So I went to my cousin’s school Halloween dance. Our mothers allowed us to dress how we wanted that year. So we dressed in all black and painted our faces like the Ultimate Warrior/Sting/Demolition/Road Warriors! It was a mix of wrestling awesomeness! At this school dance I just played it cool. None of my cousin’s do good catholic school friends knew me at the time. So I was just hanging out by myself. Drinking some Slimer Ectoplasm Hi-C. Scoping the scene. Then some chick came up to me and said “Your John’s cousin right?” I said nothing. “Do you want to come dance with us?” I looked at her with my poker face and literally answered with a “Running Man” and a “Roger Rabbit” as Ice Ice Baby played. Silly Catholic school girls never seen dance moves like that before in their lives!!! My cousin ran up to me and said “That was awesome.” I said “I know.” And then we were the stars of that little catholic school dance. And that girl was my girlfriend for like the next four days. Word to your mother.
Eggin’
After the cusp year, you go eggin’. Now that was an old Eastie tradition. All of my older cousins did it. My sister and her friends did it. My cousin’s uncles and their friends did it. From the ages of 14-18, your ass went eggin’. You put on old clothes. Sometimes with a garbage bag over them for protection. A hoodie. A painted face. And armed yourself with as many dozens of eggs and cans of shaving cream you could carry and go to war every Halloween! It was a right of passage. You threw eggs at everyone. At everything. Your friends. Your family. Your enemies. Girls you liked. Cars. Houses. Whatever. Shit was on! Sometimes it was fun. Sometimes it was violent. Sometimes you came home clean. Sometimes you came home in stitches. That’s eggin’ baby. I thought it was a global thing. Turns out not a lot of people knew what the hell I was talking about once I got to college. They thought I was crazy. And I thought they missed out on some fucking Halloween awesomeness!
Saved By The Bell: The College Years
The Halloween college years were mostly house parties. One year in particular stands out. My buddy, my cousin and I decided to go to the college party of this hottie I liked from one of my classes. Last minute of course. So we grabbed 3 painters outfits from Home Depot. Went into town. Grabbed 3 40s each (40 oz. beers for y’all that don’t know) and went to the party. All night people wondered what the 3 of us were. The Beastie Boys Intergalactic had just come out so we would tell chicks we were them. We would say painters. Abortion clinic doctors. The Clockwork Orange guys. Whatever. We were drunk and on a roll. Until the chick’s boyfriend showed up. My cousin turns to me and says “T. You wanna fuck shit up?” I said “Yep.” Next thing I know we’re smashing 40s and starting fires and fights. We left the party and ruined like 3 more parties that Halloween night only to each wake up at 3 separate locations all over Boston and we found our buddy with a pierced tongue. That was Halloween in college for me in a nutshell.
Hip Hop Cow
After college, there were a few times I passed on the clubs and went to house parties. One year that stands out was the year that I was still Angry T and put on a cow costume and sunglasses and went as Hip Hop Cow. But after a few drinks and jello shots, I was Drunken Asshole Cow. Long story short, I went around to every hot chick and stuck out my utter and said “Want to pull my utter honey?” I offended everyone there the drunker I got. After I passed out, we all woke up and packed up the cars to head back to Boston. Everyone was pissed at me but luckily my cousin’s future bro-in-law took a seizure dressed as Cesar. Well, he wore a toga. But it sounds cooler when I tell the story that way. Shit rhymes. He kept on falling down. We thought he was either still drunk or just stupid. But then he went into full seizure mode in front of Starbucks. We stuck a wallet in his mouth and an ambulance took him to the hospital. He was ok. But he definitely took one for the team because his little epileptic fit took the heat off my party ruining ass. Nice bro. Nice.
Costume Walk of Shame Day
My last real Halloween moment came in Halloween 2004. The Red Sox had just won the World Series and Boston was still on a partying high! I went into town and my two buddies and I threw together some costumes as we drank. Hard. My buddy went as a wind swept dude. Yeah. I still don’t get it either. My other buddy went as a then popular David Ortiz. And I got to draw a David Ortiz styled beard on his face with a permanent marker! I was hammered and drew that shit so bad. That beard stayed on his face for like a week! It was awesome. And I went as a white Flava Flav of course. Hey. Fight the power. We went from club to club and got separated by midnight. Did I mention that we were so hammered before we even left the house? We shouldn’t have been allowed into any club but we knew people. I ended up at some chick’s apartment. The next morning I snuck out in full costume. I walked the streets of Boston looking for my car. This hungover white Flava Flav walked by a lot of other people still in costume as well. This was no other regular walk of shame though. Oh no. This was November 1st baby. This was “Costume Walk of Shame Day!!!” My Halloween run ended in the most proper fashion possible in my eyes.
So those were my classic Halloween moments. Now remember this as you go out and get drunk and bang. Also remember this if you run out of poison candy and decide to give out pennies tonight. Because your ass might get egged. But may you wake up tomorrow in your costume in an unfamiliar place, holding your head high but still feeling ashamed as you walk that walk of shame dressed like a costumed idiot baby. Happy Halloween!
What do you think of Halloween? Have any classic moments or do you just ride the couch and turn the lights off to shun away annoying trick or treaters??? Tell me! Comment on t-blawg, hit up the Facebook page or Tweet me direct on Twitter.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T’s Boston Hall of Fame Class of 2011” Post
I'll induct myself one day. No really.
There are a few trademark featured series on t-blawg. There are my “T Does ‘Some City’ in 3 Paragraphs.” People seem to dig my takes on cities. Cool. There are also my signature “Valentine’s Day Sucks” & “Festivus” traditions that really get the crowd going. And of course the mack daddy, daddy mack t-blawg trademark series “The Bro Code” baby! Well today I would like to add a new series to the always growing, always innovating original entertainment life blueprint known as t-blawg. It is something very close to my ice cold heart…Boston of course. Every year starting with this post I would like to honor some extra special people of Boston right here on t-blawg! These people have done something for Boston. Won something for Boston. Put on for Boston. Are proud of Boston!!! They are friggin’ Boston icons and they should be recognized and treated so. Like myself. So without further ado, I present my “T’s Boston Hall of Fame Class of 2011!”
Awesome Boston Athlete
Terry ‘Tito’ Francona
How the hell do I start off by inducting Tito over legendary Boston athletes like Bird, Orr, Brady or even coach Bill Belichick? Take it easy. Before the epic collapse of the Red Sox last season and all the garbage that has been spewed about the team and their coach, you have to remember one thing. This is the coach who broke ‘The Curse’ people! He coached a team of idiots all season long, from the brink of an 0-3 elimination against the Yankees, then swept the Cardinals 4-0 and won the first Red Sox World Series in 86 damn years! Then won another one 3 years later! He did the impossible. And for that, he goes in as my first athlete in the T Boston Hall. Thank you Tito.
Crazy Ass Underground Boston Celebrity
Tricycle Louie
What the fuck is a ‘Tricycle Louie’ you say?! Ok. Ever walk down Newbury or Boylston street and hear “Eh! Eh! Eh!” grow louder and louder as you walk? Then see a giant tricycle with flags on it flapping in the wind? Being driven by what looks like a blind toothless demon who just escaped from the depths of hell??? Well. That’s Tricycle Louie! He’s a god damn moving Boston landmark people! And a nice guy actually. He’s been riding that giant, rusty tricycle for years. And he’s saying “Move! Move! Move!” by the way because he doesn’t want to run your ass over. But he will. Louie is the first T Boston Hall Underground Celebrity for being that crazy yet awesome.
Ultimate Boston Hottie
Maria Menounos
I have shown my love for Maria many times on t-blawg. We go way back to when we were both non-famous kids working at Dunkin’ Donuts and shared a love for Kelly’s Roast Beef. She has since become more famous than me. But still puts on for Boston every chance she gets. This Greek Goddess is my first T Boston Hall Boston Hottie. End of hottie story. Call me Maria.
Epic Boston Team
The 2010 Boston Bruins
The 2010 Bruins go in before the 2001 Pats, before the ’04 Red Sox Idiots and before the ’08 Celtics because quite simply the Boston Bruins were the last of the losers. The last of the heart breaking Boston teams. They were untouched by the Pink Hatters. Their major fan base was straight loyal white trash. And the Bruins finally reached the pinnacle of Boston sports team awesomeness by winning the Stanley Cup and completing the Boston decade of sports dominance by all four of our teams. By doing that, they earned their first class ticket induction into the T Boston Hall of Fame Class of 2011!
Proud Boston Bro
Ben Affleck
I give Ben a lot of shit. Absolutely. From his old shitty acting. To Gigli. To the time I saw him at game 1 of the ’04 World Series with big ass J-Lo. To his famous ‘Ass Face’ chin. But that’s what bros do. Bust each other’s balls. But let it be known. No other famous person from Boston puts on for Boston more than Ben Motherfuckin’ Affleck! From being Chucky in ‘Good Will’ and co-writing it with Matt. To winning the damn Oscar for it. To directing the shit out of the filmed in Boston ‘Gone Baby, Gone.’ To directing and starring in the filmed in Boston and shooting the fuck out of Fenway Park ‘The Town!’ For bringing the underrated ‘Company Men’ here to Boston for filming. And now going to direct the “James ‘Whitey’ Bulger” movie here in Boston. He is Hollywood East! He is Boston entertainment! And that is why he goes in as my first Boston Bro! I hope he directs one of my scripts one day. A T script directed by Ben Affleck would end the fucking world from too much damn Boston awesomeness!!!
Ass Kicking Boston Movie
The Departed
This goes in over ‘Good Will Hunting’, ‘The Town’, ‘Mystic River’ and ‘Gone Baby, Gone’ because from top to bottom, this movie was stacked with pure fucking awesomeness that extended beyond Boston. This movie punched every other movie in the face when it came out and had all of Boston saying to the world “Say hi to your mother for me.” Boom. In the Hall first it goes.
Most Talked About Boston Weather Event in the History of History
Blizzard of ’78
We get our share of shitty weather. No doubt. But that’s how we roll around here. Most of us don’t complain. We just live with it. But now and then there comes a weather event that just plain fucks shit up. And no other weather event fucked shit up more than the “Blizzard of ‘78” because people still talk about this damn blizzard like it was an end of the world zombie apocalypse or some shit! And for that alone it goes in as the first Hall Boston Weather Event! Now please stop talking about it. No one died.
Most Famous Boston Family
The Kennedys
They are the United State’s version of royalty. No? They are the most famous and have achieved the most success and suffered the most loss and it all was covered every way possible by the news and historians over so many years. And they originated from my old neighborhood of East Boston and have been a Cape Cod staple for years. I can go on and on about JFK, Jackie, Bobby, Teddy, John Jr. etc. but the one Kennedy who stands out for me personally is Joe Kennedy. You see, Joe helped bring assisted home heating programs to Eastie when I was a kid. So he went around to all the schools and met all the mothers. My mother loved that Joe Kennedy for being such a nice, handsome and successful man. In some weird way, I looked at Joe as a normal father figure. So for his impact on my mother and youth, along with the rest of the Kennedys, they go in as the first Boston Family into my Boston Hall. They might be the only family ever. Unless I put in my crazy ass family one day.
In Your Face Boston Neighborhood
Eastie
Over the North End? Back Bay? Southie??? Hell fuckin’ yeah! It’s my old neighborhood. And if you think I have already told all there is to tell about Eastie, you are nuts. Those stories will be told on here or on the big screen one way or the other. Eastie is the real Boston neighborhood. It’s people know why. It goes into the Hall first.
Legendary Boston Legend
Paul Revere
Because Johnny Depp is making a movie about him. And he warned everybody that the British were coming. He is the only reason why you don’t talk with a British accent fool! Respect. So go walk ‘The Freedom Trail’ and pour some out in front of his statue. NOW! In the Boston T Hall of Fame Paul Revere goes.
There it is. My Boston Hall of Fame Class of 2011. Not your typical hall of fame right? But what did you expect? T ain’t typical. So why would my Boston Hall of Fame be? And neither will next year’s class!
What do you think of my class of 2011? Anyone you think should’ve went in before these awesome Boston people? Any recommendations for next year? Let me know! Tweet me!
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “T Says Goodbye to Entourage” Post
Ari and Drama were the show!
I remember watching an episode of ‘The Sopranos’ in late Winter of 2004. All of a sudden this cool, bad ass preview of this show about a group of regular guys living the life in Hollywood came on. I knew this show was going to be awesome. Not only as a screenwriter. Not only as a fan of good television. But as a man. Men needed this show to be awesome. This show was ‘Entourage.’ I told everybody about this show and then in July of 2004, ‘Entourage’ debuted. It was magical. It lit up Sundays nights in a whole different way than ‘The Sopranos’ did. Guys finally had their ‘Sex and the City’ without all the catty, annoying female garbage that guys don’t like. This show was for men and it was everything we liked. Forget about the last few seasons. I have. Seasons 1-4 were the most epic run of the greatest guy show in the history of history and it will be missed.
From Vince’s breakout first movie ‘Head On’ to the artsy & independent and later to go big studio ‘Queens Boulevard’ to the ‘Spider-Man’ record killing ‘Aquaman’ to the epic flop that was ‘Medellin,’ we watched as Vince, E, Drama, Turtle and Ari gave guys everywhere a reason to want to be awesome. They were regular guys living the dream! Living in a world of awesomeness full of money, women, partying, cars, celebrities, playmates, models, athletes, houses, trips and fun. Every guy now had an entourage of their own. Every guy said to their bro “You’re definitely E.” “You’re the jerk of the crew like Ari.” “You’re the useless one like Turtle.” Every Sunday from 2004-2007 I would watch the show with my entourage. They would say “T. That’s us when you finally sell a script. Except we’re from Boston. Which is better.” And when I didn’t make it to my cousin’s house to watch the show, one of us would immediately call the other and say “Did you watch?!” We automatically knew what the other was talking about! “Did you see Drama punch that dude and start the fight with Seth Green in Vegas?! Awesome! That’s us.” My cousin and I would always say that you knew you were going to have a good week if Entourage was a good episode. And you know what? We always did.
Even though ‘Entourage’ technically ran for 8 seasons, it ran out of juice creatively after season 4. I believe that the downfall turn really started to take place when season 3 was split at the end of Summer 06 and then returned in Spring 07. The show was still great during this time but this is where the loyal fun group of guys started to change. This was when the show left off with Vince leaving Ari and hiring Amanda as his agent and then started banging her. The long struggling Johnny Drama finally found success again with ‘Five Towns.’ The boys put all their money into a ‘Medellin’ that was doomed from script. And then season 4 was entirely about the ‘Medellin’ disaster and both E & Ari finding other clients beyond Vince. Hell, even Turtle started to do something! Stupid useless Turtle! After that, in seasons 5-8 the show lost it. The charm and fun were gone. It went serious. It went dark. It went boring. But lets remember ‘Entourage’ for that early greatness it unleashed on the world. Until another show can do what that show did in only 30 minutes every Sunday for 4 straight seasons, it remains the greatest bro show ever. So from all the Boston T Family & Friends Entourage to all of you the real ‘Entourage’, so long and thank you. But please. Don’t make a damn ‘Entourage’ movie.
What do you think? Was ‘Entourage’ the most bro show in history in its prime? Will you miss it? Let me know! Twitter or Facebook the kid.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “It’s not you, it’s me” Post
I'm definitely starting to believe I'm more interesting than this guy
After the crazy 2010 that I had, I promised myself a lot of things in 2011. I promised myself to do a lot of things differently. One of those things was to start dating higher quality women. Women that were more in line with what I wanted. What I needed. No young drama. No slampigs. No crazies. No women already in serious relationships with other guys. No women who were a pain in my ass basically. I no longer wanted to hang out with, hook up with, have sex with or date women where at some point I found myself dropping on them the dreaded “It’s not you, it’s me.” Nobody wants to get the “It’s not you, it’s me!” Nobody. And I gave it out a lot in my time. Because it is the “Get out of whatever this is as easy as possible” dating clause. And we all have used it. Don’t lie. Sure it’s pretty much the chicken shit way of saying “You’re not good enough for me. You’re not what I thought you were. You are kind of weird. I found someone better. The sex sucked. You look stupid naked. You bore the shit out of me. I suddenly just found you annoying. I don’t want anything to do with you as of this moment.” without having to actually say it like that. That’s the “It’s not you, it’s me” in a nutshell. Or so I thought.
So it was all fine and dandy giving it out to women until this past Summer when some chick I was hanging out with dropped that shit on me. I have gone my entire dating life without a woman saying “It’s not you, it’s me” to me. Seriously. I have been told “You’re an asshole.” “I found someone else.” “You’re too busy for me.” “I’m going back to/staying with my boyfriend/husband.” “You’re too crazy for me.” “You have more issues than Time magazine.” “I am a lesbian now.” plenty of times. But never the “It’s not you, it’s me!” And it sucked. Of course I immediately wanted to pull a George Costanza and say “You don’t give me ‘It’s not you, it’s me!’ I give you ‘It’s not you, it’s me!’ I invented the ‘It’s not you, it’s me!’” But I didn’t. She was a nice enough girl. And the new 2011 T told the little devil Ts on his shoulders (Yes. Two devils. Never had the tiny angel on one of them.) to just take it like a man. I went outside of my comfort zone with this woman the entire time we were together. She wasn’t my type at all. She had some issues. A lot of issues actually. And a past that made my past look like a fucking church choir. But I let it go while I was with her because I wanted to give this thing between us a shot. A real, adult, quality shot. But she didn’t. She wanted to end it and she wanted to do it as easy as possible for the both of us. She wanted to “It’s not you, it’s me” me. And she actually did us both a favor.
It took about a week and few conversations with the boys and my Chick Bullpen to realize that if she didn’t do the “It’s not you, it’s me” to me, I would’ve did it to her. It just wasn’t meant to be and honestly, we both didn’t know why. It just didn’t fit. For her. Or for me. And it really wasn’t the chicken shit way of ending things. It’s not always a lie. Sometimes it really is you. And not them. Sometimes it’s both of you. Why stay in something if you’re not feeling it? You can still like someone. Find them attractive. Have fun with them. But just feel like you don’t fit with them. Sometimes there isn’t an exact reason. And if you said “I can’t explain it. Everything is going ok. I like you. But I don’t want to be with you and I can’t say why exactly because I honestly don’t know why.” instead of “It’s not you, it’s me” it would drag things out. You would want more because you would think there should be a reason. It would bring out feelings of doubt, anger, suspicion, self loathing, hate. It wouldn’t just end. The band aid would slowly pull on the tiny hairs for a long time with that. Calls. Texts. All that shit because you would want answers. You would want closure. On your terms. Not theirs. And that sucks even more than “It’s not you, it’s me.” I know that now. Because honestly people, sometimes it really is just “It’s not you, it’s me.” Leave it that. Move on. And get back in the game and hope to find someone who gets it the way you get it.
Ever give or get “It’s not you, it’s me?” Do you agree with my definition of it or do you still feel it’s an easy out? I really want to know! Let me know on Facebook or Twitter. Thanks.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
My “Bro Money Code” Post
It cost a lot to get her to pose for that pic
If you cut up my brain, any guy’s brain actually, I believe you will find the 4 things that are always on our minds. Sex. Food. Sports. Money. Men are simple creatures. I don’t deny that. But we know what we like and once again, there are rules to the things in a man’s life. And so there are rules to…money. Money amongst bros. Money made. Money spent. Money borrowed. Money wasted. Big stacks. Little stacks. Money, money, money!!! It can be one of the more touchier Bro Code topics. But not if you really are a bro. Let’s talk bucks people. I present my latest chapter in the Bro Code series. My Bro Money Code. With a little more commentary than usual. Because money is no joke bro.
How much you make bro???
Bros do not discuss how much they make for a living. Tightest bros. Newest bros. You don’t ask. Ever. You don’t bring it up. Ever. Only pussy bros ask because they are nervous you make more than them. It’s an inferiority complex. Have some fucking class bro. Want me to buy you some?
If money is owed you pay it back before you do anything else. ANYTHING ELSE!
I never borrow from a pal. Ever. But if there is something that involves a pal paying for something before I see him, I immediately greet him next time I see him with money in hand. That’s just me. That should be you. If you owe a bro, do not buy anything else. Do not go on a vacation. Do not take your girl out to that expensive restaurant. Do not buy that iPad. Do not go to the game. Do not buy shit until you pay back your bro! Doesn’t matter if it’s a dollar or a thousand dollars. YOU PAY THY OWED BRO FIRST!!!
Gambling amongst guys
I do not gamble. I have too much respect for money because I didn’t have any growing up. And I’ve seen the evils of what gambling can do to a family. But as a grown man, I have to accept my bros who gamble. Fine. But if you gamble bro, do it so it doesn’t impact your other bros, your career, your health, your family or your future. Control that shit. Man up or stop it dude.
Boozin’ it up!
It’s simple. I’ve said it before. When it’s your round just pay like a good bro. And don’t pull that you’ll have a Bud Light shit when it’s your round and the expensive top shelf hard shit when it’s not. That is bad bro boozin’!
The bro with the higher salary does not pay every time
Even when you don’t know exactly what a guy makes you have an idea when he’s making decent bucks. This doesn’t mean he pays more than every other guy out every time. If you can’t hang with the big dogs then don’t act like a little bitch. ZING!
It’s not about the couple bucks, it’s the principle
When it comes time to pay, regardless of what it is, throw in. It doesn’t matter if it’s a couple of bucks here and there. For the cab. The tip. The coat check. Parking. Tolls. Ticket broker fee. PAY! Just shut up and pay!
Money shouldn’t come between bros, but neither should being a dick
I know which of my bros are good for money when it comes to everything. Drinks, games, vacations, tables at the club etc. But now and then I have to let new bros in and really get to see what type of bro they are. If you commit to throwing in cash for something, ex. a table at the club or bottles at the club, then you fucking throw in. If you get drunk and leave or find a chick and leave, then you immediately contact the bro you stuck the entire bill with and let him know your ass will pay him ASAP. You committed. Man the fuck up. Don’t be a dick, bro.
He who sets up couple date night out pays the bill
Only do this with your really good buddies! The ones who never bring up money. You and your girl set up a night out with him and his lady. And you pay. Next time he pays. And so on. Together you can have one hell of a time. Don’t split the bill. Keep the rotation going with each bro taking turns. Grown man shit right therrr!
If you get into places a lot, free drinks a lot, game tickets a lot on one bro’s connections only? You are an asshole bro.
Case closed.
If you bring your girl along, then you pay double dude. WTF?!
Doesn’t matter the situation. This is no longer a 50/50 split. Your luggage bro. You pay to check it in. Capish?
If one pal does the driving with his car, you pay for the gas guy
A road trip. A casino run. A game. A business trip. Running illegal guns Sons of Anarchy style. Doesn’t matter. He drives his car, you pay his gas. If he passes on the offer, you buy an extra round or some shit. It’s simple.
Cheap bros are not real bros
They’re not. That bro who always lies about money. Is light on the bill. Never sends you the money in the mail. Throws your high salary in your face. Ducks out on his round. Forgets all the money you dropped on his bachelor party, wedding, kids shit etc. And never pays for what he agrees to pay? He is not your fucking bro. He is an acquaintance at best and treat his lying, piece of shit cheap ass accordingly. Call Bro Money Code on his ass from this day forward! Thank me later.
So there you have it. The toughest Bro Code chapter yet. But I had to put it out there for all the bros around the world who always thought this shit but could never put it into words. Well T just did guys! And like all Bro Code chapters, print this, save it and carry it with you at all times. Because you’ll need it. But more importantly, just respect it.
How do you feel about the sixth chapter in my Bro Code Series, the Bro Money Code? Is it missing a commandment? Let me know! I’m on Twitter and Facebook.
PS. This will be the last post like this. Next week I present the all-new, even more awesome t-blawg. 12/5/11. 104 straight Mondays of t-blawg. The party is just starting people!!! -T
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
T-pisode 104: T Addresses the Nation
Notice some changes??? Welcome to the new T-blawg!
It’s been 2 years. 104 straight Mondays. And unlike my 1 year 52nd post, I will not be listing out 104 things that made T-blawg. Instead I am going to write about the current state of T-blawg, where it’s been and where it’s going.
Greatest. President. Ever. That's what she said.
I’ve said it a bunch of times here. I started T-blawg to entertain people I knew with my crazy stories. Something more than 140 social media site characters and something less than my full movie & TV scripts. But over the last 104 weeks, T-blawg has evolved. Whether it’s a regular life story post, an epic chick list, a Bro Code chapter, a dating lesson learned, one of my visited city recaps or just my take on something in everyday life, people are liking T-blawg! It really has become “An original entertainment life blueprint” and I’m proud of it. T-blawg is no longer a blog. I’m not sure what it is quite yet. But it’s becoming something. That’s why I am dropping the “post” format and each Monday I’ll put up a “T-pisode.” Yeah. I think it sounds awesome too. Thank you. Steal it and I’ll sue. My old pic is gone. Replaced by a more Hollywood, Bostonish pic of my handsome mug. And there is a new iconic logo. I mean how cool will it be to have a hat logo on an actual hat one day??? That shit is funny. And the fun doesn’t stop there!!!
The new site design has been built to allow me to put up content at will. While the “T-pisodes” will still go up on Mondays only (AKA T-blawg Day) I will eventually start uploading random thoughts, pics, videos, links, etc.…. basically whatever I think is just straight fucking awesomeness! Because that’s how I roll. You know this by now. And for all you new T-blawg fans….welcome to the party! This past year T-blawg has been pillaged by shitty ass men’s entertainment sites that don’t have shit on T-blawg. They are trying to put out content that is not their own. These unoriginal sites can kiss my Italian ass. I’m making a bigger and better T-blawg and they can stay the same. They can stay whale shit. Fuck ‘em. I’m focusing on turning this site into something more awesome. Whether I’m putting up my honest life stories for 15 people or 15,000 people a month, I’m still going to do it. Because I enjoy it and you do too. Or else you wouldn’t be reading this. So get ready for more “T-pisodes” every Monday! The new T-blawg logo spreading around like an STD! “T-vlawg” videos featuring the beloved “Boston” accent! And more!!!
Eventually T-blawg may become a TV series. A late-night talk show. Or hell. Maybe even T-blawg “The Movie.” I don’t know yet. But something is happening. And even if it just stays T-blawg the site, well I’m cool with that too. I will continue to be as honest, funny, crazy and original as I can be. New site. Same T. Well, sort of. Like the site, I am changing as a man. I’m not the same guy who started this thing 2 years ago. Lessons learned. Life living. So as I grow as a man in my life, I’ll make sure that T-blawg does the same with me. Just keep coming back. Stay tuned for some cool new shit. And continue to enjoy the ride. I’m just getting started people. I won’t stop until this little original entertainment life blueprint has the entire damn world saying “Always take it there” along with me.
What do you think? Feedback is appreciated. Look. Feel. Any site problems. Whatever. Let me know! “Like” the new T-blawg on Facebook and keep talking to me on Twitter! They have been updated too.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
You lose! You get NOTHING!!!
I quote this scene often. I act it out for my nieces. Had no idea someone turned it into a music video 3 years ago!
Classic T-blawg…..Festivus 1!
The original Festivus post was the first real T-blawg post. The one that started it all people!
Classic T-blawg….Don’t be that Guy!
I put lesser men on blast with this one!
Classic T-blawg…Logic vs Feelings!
I got a lot of shit for this one.
Classic T-blawg….Legendary Childhood Moments 1!
You think you were a fresh kid? You think your kids are bad??? Check out how young T rolled then go hug your child.
Classic T-blawg…..Stacked Bullpen!
I still get thanked for creating and sharing this method. It has served me well. A little gem brought back from good old T!
Classic T….Types of Women to Avoid Vol. 1!
Oh T. You need to go back and reread all your shit. Because this one would have really been helpful with recent events! Guys…listen to this one. Please.
Classic T-blawg…Don’t be that Chick
I put these girls on blast. Because well, they suck.
Classic T-blawg….Boston Law
You think you know Boston? You claim to be from Boston? Know all the rules about Boston? Think again.
Classic T-blawg….My Kind of Woman
I need to change this. Because she doesn’t exist. Not at all.
Classic T-blawg….Real Men Don’t Vol. 1
I still don’t do any of these things. Seriously.
Classic T-blawg….Crazy Pet Chick
Every chick with a weird relationship with their pet now knows how crazy they are. A crazy us guys have known for a long time.
Classic T-blawg….Bro Code!
The original Bro Code chapter that started them all!
Final Classic T-blawg this Weekend! The Hottest Chick List Around!!!
This chick list put T-blawg on the map! I can bring back my Holiday Party Protocol. My Manscaping. My Signature Drink. My Pink Hatter Defined etc…..but this is the most popular classic T-blawg awesomeness!
I hope you’ve enjoyed Classic T-blawg Weekend! There is a lot more so click through the “Classic T-blawg Awesomeness” to the left and let me know what you think! Long time fans and new T-blawg fans both!
New T-pisode tomorrow! Because it’s T-blawg Day!!!
T-pisode 105: T Family Reunion
My family likes to pretend it's still the 90s. That's me on the diving board. I'm actually a 12 year-old boy.
Anyone who knows me knows that I’m very close to my family. My mother, sister, bro-in-law, cousin, his wife and my nieces and nephews are my family. My close friends are my family. I have tons of relatives and know tons of people but I only consider few my real family. Why? Because I’m loyal and only show every side of me to a few people who are always there for me. That’s how I was. But not anymore really. You see, over the past few years I reconnected with most of the family on my mother’s side through Facebook. Cousins I hadn’t seen or heard from in years. I’m Italian so I have like 80,000 cousins. Seriously. My cousins had kids. More cousins. They had kids. More cousins. Cousins I hadn’t even met. So many damn cousins!!! After catching up through Facebook, I took it upon myself to go even one step further. I took a chance and decided to put together a family reunion. I thought it would be great for my mother to see all of her nieces/nephews, great nieces/nephews and great-great nieces/nephews. I thought it would be nice for my nieces and nephew to meet cousins they had never met in their entire lives. And I thought it would be pretty cool for my sister and I as grown adults to catch up with the cousins we grew up with. It took 5 months to plan. All the cousins said they were in. My mother was super excited. Then the day finally arrived this past Summer. It was on.
I had no idea how the reunion would go down. It was a long time since we were all together. After my grandparents passed away it was about 15 years since the original 8 grandkids/cousins had all been together. We all just drifted apart. I didn’t think everyone would show up. But they did. And so didn’t their kids. And so didn’t the kids of the ones who had kids. There were 4 generations of us. About 35 cousins. Who knew what type of shit would go down?! Would there be arguments? Would there be fist fights?? Would someone get stabbed??? None of us knew what we were getting into! But you know what happened? Nothing but a good time. We all smiled the whole damn day. We hugged. We kissed. We laughed. We cried. No one stopped smiling. We took so many damn pictures. Little kid cousins came up to me “You’re the crazy cousin who lives in Boston and writes right?” “Yeah. That’s me.” I said. I made sure to go up to each and every one of my cousins and catch up. Or introduce myself. Or reintroduce myself. Find out a little bit about who they had become. That was goal #1. Goal #2? To have a shot together with all my cousins! I pulled out the SoCo and lime and handed shots out to all those who could legally drink with their crazy cousin T and even a few to those who were almost legal. We put up our shot glasses and toasted “TO FAMILY!” as the cameras went off. That day was all about family.
After tons of eating, tons of drinking and tons of pictures, I found myself talking to my cousins who I used to play with as a little kid. Lots of “Damn. You were so fresh as a kid. Who would’ve thought you would turn out like this as a man?” I felt that in my heart. A few other heavy moments as we talked about our grandparents and our aunt/my godmother/my mother’s sister who passed away too soon. How we all used to get a ‘buck’ apiece from Papa before we left the house. And how Nana would always be in the kitchen cooking. And how Auntie used to laugh and spoil us all. And of course how great the holidays used to be when we were all together. My mother had a great day. My sister enjoyed herself. And my nieces and nephew played with their cousins and swam in the pool like I did as a kid. That day was one of my best days of 2011. It was one of the best days of my life. These people, my family will always be the link to my past. My early days where at times we didn’t have much but always had each other. I was humbled that day. We all were. And we all promised to do it again every year. Family is everything. Immediate. And extended. You are nothing without them. I’m thankful for my family. More than most of them will ever know.
Have you ever had a family reunion? Are you missing any of your family right now? Reach out to them. You’ll all be glad that you did. Let me know how it turns out. Facebook or Twitter.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
Tis the Season
Tomorrow starts the “12 days of Christmas” right? Wrong!!! Get ready for “T’s 12 Days of Chickmas!”
Everyday!
Until Christmas!
Only on T-blawg.
The 1st Day of Chickmas!
On the 1st day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
Because after 500 Days of Summer…..
….he got Autumn. Are you smelling me???
T cosigns this
The 2nd Day of Chickmas!
On the 2nd day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
would wife-Sofia Vergara
That ass is 39 years-old ladies. #justsaying
Dat Ass
The 3rd Day of Chickmas!
On the 3rd day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, three yeps she’s fucked in the head!
Two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
The 4th Day of Chickmas!
On the 4th day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, four crazy ass texts at 3AM!
Three yeps she’s fucked in the head!
Two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
The 5th Day of Chickmas!
On the 5th day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, fiiive GO to HELLS!!!!
Four crazy ass texts at 3AM!
Three yeps she’s fucked in the head!
Two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
The 6th Day of Chickmas!
On the 6th day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, six reasons why she’s not a princess!
Fiiive GO to HELLS!!!!
Four crazy ass texts at 3AM!
Three yeps she’s fucked in the head!
Two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
T-pisode 106: Festivus 3
She likes my Festivus pole. No really.
Festivus. My favorite holiday of them all! It was created by the father of a writer on “Seinfeld” and made popular on the show years ago and I along with hundreds of other people (“Seinfeld” fans, Wikipedia users) have been celebrating it ever since. It happens on December 23. Two days before Christmas. Its tagline is “Festivus for the rest of us.” Its purpose is to have a holiday for the people who refuse to get caught up in the insanity of the other holidays during this time of the year. And its traditions are unmatched.
What are the traditions of Festivus? Well there is the “Festivus Pole” instead of a tree. A plain pole without any decoration. There are the “Feats of Strength” where the party isn’t over until the head of the household is pinned to the ground. There are “Festivus Miracles.” Like that crazy little crackhead ginger Lindsay Lohan finally dying by mysteriously getting impaled by my “Festivus Pole” so I can collect my 7 year celebrity death pool money on her! And then there is my favorite tradition of them all. The “Airing of Grievances!” This is the part where you get to tell everybody how they have disappointed you over the past year. If you need a refresher, here are my lists of people and things that have disappointed me the last two Festivuses: Last year and the year before.
Now it’s time for this year’s grievances. I present Festivus 3!!!
Occupy Assholes
Look. I’m all for shaking shit up. Causing a ruckus. But I usually do it when I have an end goal in mind. You idiots are protesting just for the sake of protesting! You don’t know what you want. And most of you are rich, college kid yuppies living off your parents who never struggled a single fucking day in your lives. Shut up. You made a mess of Boston and now that it’s over I have to pay to clean it up. Take your 99% or 1% or 38% privileged ass back to school and fucking learn something!
People who say “I can’t even”
What the hell does that even mean? “I can’t even with this….” “I can’t LOL…” This is 2011’s “I miss your face.” It’s fucking dumb. Put a fucking sentence together already will you?! Stop it.
The Great Boston Earthquake
Did you feel that??? No. What? Was that an earthquake or am I taking a stroke?! That was the entire Boston earthquake. So stupid.
All my boys officially married
You guys suck! I love you all but you’re leaving me in the fucking trenches alone out here. Sons of bitches. I’m now the last man standing. Great.
Boob head breaking t-shirt/dress thingie trend
Every year I have a hot chick trend on here that is hot but I don’t know what it’s deal is? This year I have seen so many hot chicks out wearing like these Elmo or Super Girl or some shit top dress thingies that are like ripped on top and show off some serious cleavage. I don’t know what it is. I’m a dude. But it’s hot and very distracting.
Too much psycho info too soon girls
I don’t want to know about your crazy past on date one. I don’t want to know about how many dudes you banged. How many drugs you did. How many marriages you were in. How many times you were stabbed. What the fuck??? Do you not know proper date one small talk stupid?! That’s some crazy shit right there!
Charlie Sheen people
Charlie Sheen’s epic collapse was entertaining for like a week. All you assholes who kept the “winning” and “tiger blood” shit going for all those weeks and months after only proved that you are the most unoriginal, not entertaining assholes to ever live. Oh you’re not even close to winning my friend.
Ochocinco
Useless. To the Pats. To the fans. To twitter. To Boston. Fucking useless. Fuck you Chad. Fuck you as a wide receiver. Fuck your unfunny tweets. Fuck your stupid Prius. But your girl is hot. Nice job there bro.
T-blawg groupies
Ahhh. My groupies. Yes I have some. Not the lovely ladies who enjoy the site or allow me to relentlessly flirt with them on twitter. No. They’re not groupies. I’m talking about the ones who track me down. Send me naked pics. Well that part isn’t so bad. But I mean really?! I’m just a regular guy telling my stories trying to make people laugh. That’s it. I’m not your prince honey. And my bad that I actually may have met one or two of you this year and gave you false hope. But if your ass tracks me down and you’re getting naked after 2 hours of meeting me….you’re a groupie honey and you will be treated accordingly. That means, not like a lady. But no more. I’m all set. Thanks.
Cheap people
I know the economy is still unstable. But damn. If you’re cheap then take that act elsewhere. It’s old. You are no longer allowed to hang out with me. I don’t need any leeches in my life. Bro Money Code. Peace.
Irene
This was actually a funny part of the past year! Everyone was all up in arms about Irene. She was going to come in and do some serious damage. We were all supposed to die…well not really. But we were supposed to like get really wet and blown. That’s what she said. And nothing happened! That’s what she said again. Irene was a tease.
Brad Marchand
This son of a bitch took the Bruins Stanley Cup victory to whole other level. He was all over Boston. Partying. Showing off his tattoo. Showing off his big nose. Bro. Thank you for winning the Cup. Seriously. But learn how to celebrate like a normal Boston pro athlete! This is Titletown brother. We’re used to our athletes being out and about and just chilling. Take a free shot. Turn one down. Drink the champagne. Pass on it. Whatever. Just chill the fuck out next time you win the Cup and don’t party like a douche for 4 months straight! Thanks.
Panicky food shoppers for disasters
You assholes fucked up my food shopping this year! I food shop once a week. I’m in and out in under 20 minutes. That’s what she said. But when the weather is acting the fool you all act the bigger fool and crowd the supermarket and fuck up my shit! I hate food shopping enough as is so if you get in my way while doing a panic shop, from this moment forward I will slam my shopping cart over your head Rowdy Roddy Piper with the coconut to Jimmy Snuka’s head style!
2011 Red Sox
Oh you motherfuckers. We the fans cheered you on when you sucked in April and May. We fucking carried you into a Summer when you went 2 and half months of being the best team in baseball. Then the worst epic collapse to ever happen happened in September. We didn’t know what was going on. It killed us. Then after the season we hear the truth about all the bullshit that was going on?! Hey Red Sox, FUCK YOU from a lifelong fan. No seriously. And you have yet to address the fans properly. Where is the apology??? You fucked us good. Every Sox fan should protest this season. Opening Day at Fenway for it’s 100th anniversary should be empty. Don’t go to the game. Don’t be a Pink Hatter. Let our anger be known.
Nutella
If peanut butter is my crack then Nutella is my heroin. If it had a vagina and boobs, I’d be all set.
The NBA
Greedy douches. I’m not going to one game during this shortened season. Nope. I’m giving my Celtics ticket money to charity. I’ll watch the games but I’m letting it be known that I’m disappointed. The NBA screwed a lot of good arena workers, vendors, local bar workers, restaurants etc. out of jobs. That pissed me off. So they get NOTHING from T this season! YOU LOSE! GOOD DAY SIR!!!
Facebook Changes Complainers
You know, just fucking unfriend me before I unfriend you. Is your life that uneventful that you care that much about stupid Facebook changes? I stay on top of social media and business trends. You know how I feel about the upcoming changes once I hear about them even before most of you? Not a single fuck is given. Not a one.
T-blawg Thieves
That day will come. Tick tock bitches. Tick tock.
Kim Kardashian Fans
So let me get this straight ladies who love Kim K. You’ll watch her show. Buy her shit. But get mad at your man when you catch him looking at porn??? What am I talking about? Come here. I have something I need to show you. It’s on my desktop. Ready? YEP! That’s Kim K getting boned doggie style by Brandy’s untalented jerk brother. So your hero is an overexposed porn star. She’s famous for being a whore who marketed herself to women who can’t think for themselves. Check and mate!
Comcast/Xfinity
My HD cable/DVR/Wireless Internet all went out for no reason. I went 5 days without all that shit. Then finally Comcast sent a young Mr. Miyagi who scaled the side of my building like Spider-Man and fixed it. Fuck you Comcast! Thank you Spidey Miyagi!!!
11/11/11 Jerks
What happened on 09/09/09? What? Nothing? What happened on 10/10/10? Wait. Nothing again? And what exactly did you think was going to happen on 11/11/11 then??? Keep that dream going buddy!!! 12/12/12 is definitely going to be the big one! I’m sure of it!
Hot Chicks Who Whine on Twitter!
You’re a hot chick! Why the hell are you whining??? Your problems are like nothing compared to the rest of society’s problems! The world doesn’t pity hot people. Now shut up and post another hot pic on Instagram for me. Thank you.
Facebook Couple Profile Pics
Ok. Those pics? Yeah. They may be cute and all romantic and shit to you. But your friends, family, coworkers, neighbors, business contacts…shit, even your parents think you are an idiot. It’s gross. Did you lose your own identity now that you’ve found Jimmy a whole 2 months ago honey? Did you get your balls cut of Billy since you started dating Melissa last week? Take the fucking couple profile pics down you assholes. I speak for everyone you know on Facebook. Trust me.
Too Fast Tweeters
Haaaaa!!!! WHAT?! Steve Jobs is dead??? Oh snap I gotta tweet it first so all my followers who I never even met in real life will see my tweet first and then I’m going to be soooo kewwwwlllll. Hahahahaha. Assholes. I hate all of you who do this.
Happy Festivus!!!
What grievances would you like to air about who and what disappointed you this past year??? You know you want to do it. I would love to know! You know how to reach me people.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
The 7th Day of Chickmas!
On the 7th day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, seven dates and this ship is already sinking!
Six reasons why she’s not a princess!
Fiiive GO to HELLS!!!!
Four crazy ass texts at 3AM!
Three yeps she’s fucked in the head!
Two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
The 8th Day of Chickmas!
On the 8th day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, eight of your exes trying to warn me!
Seven dates and this ship is already sinking!
Six reasons why she’s not a princess!
Fiiive GO to HELLS!!!!
Four crazy ass texts at 3AM!
Three yeps she’s fucked in the head!
Two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
The 9th Day of Chickmas!
On the 9th day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, nine booty calls is still not dating!
Eight of your exes trying to warn me!
Seven dates and this ship is already sinking!
Six reasons why she’s not a princess!
Fiiive GO to HELLS!!!!
Four crazy ass texts at 3AM!
Three yeps she’s fucked in the head!
Two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
The 10th Day of Chickmas!
On the 10th day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, ten signals that she’s mixing!
Nine booty calls is still not dating!
Eight of your exes trying to warn me!
Seven dates and this ship is already sinking!
Six reasons why she’s not a princess!
Fiiive GO to HELLS!!!!
Four crazy ass texts at 3AM!
Three yeps she’s fucked in the head!
Two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
The 11th Day of Chickmas!
On the 11th day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T, eleven lies stop fucking lying!
Ten signals that she’s mixing!
Nine booty calls is still not dating!
Eight of your exes trying to warn me!
Seven dates and this ship is already sinking!
Six reasons why she’s not a princess!
Fiiive GO to HELLS!!!!
Four crazy ass texts at 3AM!
Three yeps she’s fucked in the head!
Two too many dumb conversations!
And a reminder of why I’m single and don’t like stupid drama bitch please!
The 12th Day of Chickmas?!
On the 12th day of Chickmas some crazy chick gave to T….wait. Hold on. Come on ladies. Do you think I’d end it on a negative note??? It’s Christmas!
On the 12th day of Chickmas I realized it’s not about the chicks. The immature chicks. The game playing chicks. The waste my time chicks. No. It’s about women.
Real, classy, intelligent, all set with the games, honest, hard working, funny, appreciate real men, beautiful women!
Because it should be Christmas every day when you have a good woman.
Merry Christmas ladies,
From T
T-pisode 107: T Did 2011
T don't do resolutions. He makes promises. And keeps them.
I’ve said before that I write T-blawg T-pisodes usually weeks before I put them up. Sometimes months. I’m always writing. My mind is always going. But this post came to me as I did a little self reflecting on this past year. Yes this is going to be one of those “T is talking about himself again” T-pisodes. Well aren’t they all about me?! The damn title of the site is T-blawg! Shit. Anyways. As I sat back and let the silly little hamster on the wheel spin in my head, I came up with some new revelations about myself. 2011 was a great year for me. One of my best actually. And it allowed me to learn about myself in ways I have never done before. Here’s what T learned about himself in this most epic and successful 2011.
I am no longer an asshole
Really. Sure I still do the typical guy asshole things. But the overall general assholeness of being an asshole to everybody has officially left the building. I’m a former asshole now. And I like it.
I can still slang and bang like I’m 21 when I want
I had a rough week a couple of weeks ago. At the time I pretty much had 48 great weeks out of the year. Week 49 handed me a beating. Work stuff. Family stuff. Holiday stuff. Writing stuff. And not one but two female drama stuff. I dealt with it all as best as possible then went on a 3 day weekend bender with an old buddy, way too young chicks, a lot of booze, no sleep and woke up with a vicious hangover and a new tattoo. As one of my Bullpen ladies put it, “Nothing wrong with a little unhealthy healing T.” So true. But now I’m back.
Never trust a big butt and a smile
Why oh why did I stop listening to Bell Biv Devoe’s deep advice??? Never again. NEVER AGAIN!!!
I now look for the best in people
When the fuck did this happen?! I used to treat everyone I met like they’re up to no good. Like they want to do me wrong or get something from me. But now I think everyone is a nice person going in and just want to do good. This has bitten me more times than I’d like to admit this year. Especially with women. But it’s not a bad thing. I don’t think. Will let you know in 2012 how it’s working out ok.
I’m more anxious with women I like
I have dated some good women this year. Well most of them have been good. And for some reason I found myself anxious to see them and spend more time with them than I ever have in my adult dating life. Is it fucking age?! Is my “playa card” expired?! Were all of these women higher quality than my usual type?! I don’t know! I just found myself excited and anxious to see them more than I usually do. I have to get this under control. But I just don’t think I have the stomach anymore to play the hard to get bad boy games. Meh.
I only have one more Birthday Bash & Boston Patriot’s Day/Marathon Monday left in me
This was a long and hard decision to make. These annual events have taken years off my life and there’s too much collateral damage to deal with afterwards in this stage of my life. Retiring it people. One last round. Let’s make it count! But T is grown now.
I am a flirting crackhead
I do it all the time. Without even knowing it sometimes. I constantly flirt with women. Everywhere I go. I’m an addict. Even when I’m not looking to get with the women I’m talking to, I always flirt with them. I need a sponsor to help me. Any takers ladies??? Oh shit. There I go again!
I have become a mogwai
While my diet is pretty good, my lifestyle sometimes has me eating late at night. Even if it’s somewhat decent food like sushi, I just can’t eat after midnight anymore. I get bad agita. I become a damn gremlin. Awful.
My tolerance for my beloved Boston sports teams bullshit is at an all time low
I have high expectations for my teams and no tolerance for their bullshit now. Not for the garbage from the Red Sox front office. Not for the Celtics and their greedy NBA lockout. Not for the young Bruins players acting like douches off the ice. Not for the Patriots inconsistent defense on the field. You’re all CHAMPIONS! You’re all PROFESSIONALS! This is Titletown. But you know what? It’s not even about the titles. Just shut the fuck up and play your asses off. Do your jobs. No bullshit. At least the loser Boston teams before the Decade of Dominance all had heart! They all played hard every game! They were all decent human beings out of uniform. Smarten up.
Mentally Noted
Even if she tells you as a joke. If she tells you she is a self proclaimed “Cold hearted bitch.” Guess what? She isn’t joking. She really is a cold hearted bitch fellas. Listen to her. I didn’t. But I do now.
Do good, you get good
I worked my ass off at my job. It paid off. I worked my ass off with my writing. I got interest from a major studio. I put time into the relationships with my closest friends and family. We became closer. Basically, I don’t know if it’s karma or what. But all I know is, when I did bad….bad shit happened to me! Bad shit isn’t fun people. I know. Trust me. Ever since I started doing good, my life picked up tenfold in every way possible. And I fucking love it!!!
Some women just don’t learn with age
I used to think young women were the only stupid ones because of age and lack of life experience. Nope. Women 30+ can be just as stupid. Even more stupid. Which means I can still be stupid too at times when it comes to women because I didn’t see it coming. That’s what she said. She most likely did say that. Because she’s stupid. ZING!
I need more culture
All through school and college life I always loved to learn. I was a great student. As an adult man I have found myself being a little one tracked minded. I had this revelation as I spent over 2 hours learning about the people of Pompeii at Boston’s Museum of Science. I’ve been so focused on doing and living that I forgot about some of the other things I used to enjoy. In 2012 I vow to read more. Learn a language. Travel more. Shit. Maybe even take a cooking class. T will become a more cultured man! Or die trying. Gangsta.
And finally…..I have the world in the palm of my hand
I’m in my peak years. I’m in my prime now. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Financially. Intellectually. I’m in beast mode. I’m not perfect. Oh no. I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying that if I’m ever going to turn that corner in my life, the time is now. I’ve been stacking bricks. Building a foundation. I’m fucking solid and about to take the world on. The success of 2011 has given me a shit load of gasoline to light 2012 on fire! Whatever happens, whatever I take on, I’m going to rattle some fucking cages and kick some asses. I’m ready. Get on that T bandwagon now people. 2011 was my “get the duckies in a row” year. 2012 is simply going to be..…T Time.
How was your 2011? Any lessons learned? Ready to kick ass in 2012 like me???
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
T-pisode 108: Why Guys Fight
If you can kick your own ass, you can kick anyone's ass. That's what I think.
In the 2 plus years T-blawg has been around I think I have touched on every manly topic possible. In depth. Except for fighting really. Now fighting is a touchy subject. Pun intended. It’s tough to talk about without sounding like a complete douche. Or a tool. Women don’t like fights. And men just think they are all a bunch of billy bad asses when it comes to fighting. I’m going to break down why guys fight and what type of fighter they usually are right here, right now. I’m going to put my man card on the table. Because that’s how I roll. I don’t bullshit. And I’m not going to start now. Men fight because of one thing and one thing only when you break it down. Ego. Men have crazy, sensitive, easy to set off egos. And there are 3 things that set off a man’s ego. Ready? Women, money and booze. Those are the 3 things that cause a man’s ego to make him want to fight. That get him into fights. I’m talking fisticuffs here people. Not bros arguing over some bullshit. I love Boston more than anything but I hate to admit that we are the worst place when it comes to dudes fighting. Most guys look to fight over the dumbest things. More so in Boston. I speak from experience. I’ve been in my fair share of fights and I’ve seen too many of them up close. Each of them have been because of ego regardless of the type of guys fighting. Here’s how and why men throw down and what type they are.
*Please remember this equation at all times while enjoying this T-pisode:
Women + Money + Booze > Ego = Anger < Fight
*It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s not calculus. It’s provocative. It gets the people going!
The Fighters:
There are guys who think they can fight.
There are guys who are afraid to fight.
There are guys who love to fight.
And then there are guys who can actually fight.
One way or the other, as a man you will find this out about yourself. The earlier in your life the better dude! And remember. Walk away. Walk away. Walk away until you can’t walk away anymore. Then you fight. It doesn’t go down like it does in the movies. It happens hard and fast or not at all. That’s what she said. Very rarely do you get to pull a “Hey yo Tommy. My ring’s outside.” and fight like Rocky in Rocky V.
Fighter 1: The guy who thinks he can fight
Perfect example? Ronnie from Jersey Shore! Any time you see a guy juiced out of his mind. Drunk in the club. Running his mouth. Taking the time to take off his watch. His chain. His Affliction shirt. He is all talk. He only throws down on dudes he knows he can hit once and then run away. He is a little bitch. He rather run his mouth like a clown or yell at his girl until she cries because he is a drunken roided out douche. He is also the guy who bumps into you on purpose for no reason trying to start something knowing that the bouncers are right there. Ignore him. He’s nothing. Fake muscles, fake tan, fake jewelry make you a tough guy not brother. He’s a pimple on the ass of real men. Unfortunately, there are too many dudes like him in this world.
Fighter 2: The guy who is afraid to fight
This is your buddy who never does anything when someone is disrespecting him or even his own girl right in front of him. He doesn’t like confrontation. So your own ego goes in triple overdrive as a man and as a good pal and you jump in for him. The problem is, this guy will get drunk enough eventually. He will have his own ego disrespected enough to the point where he is pushed into fighting. And he will get his ass kicked. Bad. Because you weren’t there and he decided to grow balls. It sucks. You don’t want him to get hurt. But he needs this beating. The sooner this happens the better for him. He is most likely your little cousin. Your nerdy co-worker. Or your pal who lets his girlfriend/wife verbally abuse the shit out of him. He’s a good guy. But has no heart for fighting.
Fighter 3: The guy who loves to fight
He fights all the time. He wins. He loses. He breaks bottles over heads. He gets bottles broken over his own head. He has scars. He gets arrested. He is most likely a degenerate gambler either owing someone money or trying to get more money. He may even be well off financially. He is most likely the guy who throws the first punch for no reason at all just because his ego is telling him he needs to be the toughest guy in the room and the only way to do it is to fight. Doesn’t matter if his girlfriend is there with him. If his kids are around. He doesn’t think. At all. He’s an animal. A good guy to know at a young age. But not when you’re older. And if you are this guy, your lifespan will be short.
Fighter 4: The guy who can actually fight
A guy who can fight hardly argues. He doesn’t get all puffed up and run his mouth. He stays calm. Maybe let’s it be known to the person to “Keep talking and watch what happens.” He is probably not even the biggest dude in the bar. He may have formal training. Or he may have had a bunch of street fights in his life. Maybe both. He may even be the fun pal but you see that look in his eyes and see his mood instantly change in front of you when he gets serious. It’s like a switch. He’s a different person. Mess with his money. Tell him you slept with his girl. Insult him the wrong way. You’ll find out that this guy can fight. And believe me. He will fight. No pushing and shoving. No getting loud. He will just go after you in the bar. In the house. At the game. Drunk. Sober. And if he doesn’t get to finish the fight, he’ll finish it outside. You’ll see how he stands. How he moves. How he squares up when it’s time to fight. Hands up. Chin down. Someone is about to get their ass kicked.
I hope I explained why guys fight. The types of fighters. What sets us off. Why we do it. It’s not cool. It’s not fun. But it happens to the best of us. So please fellas. Try to avoid fights before you end up getting your ass kicked.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
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Mash up Sunday! Biggie & Frankie baby!
BIG and Frank Sinatra. One of my favorite mash ups on the internets!
T-pisode 109: The Fadeout
No Mr. Telephone Man. There is nothing wrong with my line. I'm clearly getting The Fadeout! Stop laughing.
I’ve never been afraid to put my dating shit out there for the world to see on T-blawg. The good. The bad. The funny. The crazy. The ugly. Recently something happened to me that just happened to be ugly. I got hit with “The Fadeout” people. What the hell is “The Fadeout” you ask? Well let T do what he does and tell you. You all know what it is actually. I’m just giving it a name. It’s worse than the “It’s not you, it’s me.” Oh yeah. Because at least there you’re getting something. “The Fadeout” is the exact opposite. It’s when you’re seeing someone. Talking to someone. Hanging out with someone. Dating someone. I don’t care what the fuck your commitment fearing ass calls it. You’re enjoying that person and they’re enjoying you and then all of a sudden…..boom. Nothing. No texts. No calls. No going out. On your end you think things are going all nice and shit and you don’t even see “The Fadeout” coming. That person just purposely disappears on your ass and wants nothing to do with you. They cut you out of their life and they won’t even tell you why. And it sucks. Especially now with all the social media shit that you share with each other. It is the worst way to end hanging out/dating/talking/banging. Basically anything but a relationship. Because it just shows that person doesn’t respect you enough to even tell you what you did or didn’t do that made them suddenly not want to communicate with you why they are all set with you. Maybe it’s something on their end and not you but they aren’t telling you. Things go from pretty awesome to them just bouncing on your ass without any provocation or notice. Cold as fucking ice baby.
My Fadeout. I was hanging out with this awesome girl about every week for 2 months. Neither one of us gave what we were doing a name. We were just going out, having fun, getting to know each other. I’m a busy man. Really. She was busy girl. Both hard working people in their 30s who enjoyed their single lives. A lot in common. Me? I make time for the people and things I enjoy. And every week I found myself wanting to hang out with her. I’m the man and I don’t play games so I let it be known when I like someone. Time is my most precious commodity at this stage in my life. So I let her know. She seemed fine with it. She liked how things were going. Then after our last fun night out the next day came and I sent off a text and never got a reply. That’s fine. I didn’t have the time to even think it was anything or even sweat it. After the weekend I shot off another text asking her how her weekend was. Nothing. At this point I was entering the week that just so happened to become that one bad week of 2011 not even including the shit I apparently had happening with her. I had other female drama. Work drama. Family drama. Holiday drama. So I took to the social media shit to vent. I took to T-blawg to be the usual funny wiseass. Without even thinking how this up until then “cool with my social media shit and knows about T-blawg” chick was taking it. Did she think it was about her when I vented being the usual witty T? I had no idea. Usually I don’t give it a second thought but I did with her. So I caught myself and thought “T. Why the fuck are you analyzing shit? Oh shit. You like this one.” Fuuuuuck. So I called her days later. Sent to voicemail. Two texts and a voicemail in one rough week’s time with nothing back? Yep. I was getting “The Fadeout.” I even went back and analyzed the last date. I honestly could not recollect anything bad or stupid that I may have done. It was actually a fun date where we both opened up about friends, family, career goals, growing up and we both showed that two stubborn yet awesome single people were capable of caring by sharing some deep holiday charity tales. Shit seemed kosher! I was wrong I guess.
I washed my hands with her. I don’t have time for bullshit. Chalked it up as a loss. For her. Then the following week I ran some career dating numbers and stats. Did a census among friends too. Yep. The result? I deleted her off my social media shit because I now believe you shouldn’t be on anyone’s social media stuff that you like because it sabotages you. It does. What else did I figure out? Oh yeah. By the time you’re 27 years old you can no longer give someone “The Fadeout” if you’ve gone out with them over 2 times. NO ONE in their fucking 30s should give or get “The Fadeout!” Go face to face with the reason. If not? Then a phone call. No balls for the call? Then send a somewhat detailed text on why you no longer want to see the person. Because if you just go with “The Fadeout” the dating gods will eventually hit you with some serious karma. Oh yeah they will. Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. But eventually they will get you. Part of me thinks this was karma for all the fucked up shit I did when I was younger. Including “The Fadeouts” I gave women. Odds are though that with her I did or didn’t do something so small that she analyzed the shit out of it. Blew it up. Shared with friends. Until this fucking thing snowballed so out of control in her crazy chick head that she made me into something I’m not. And all of it could have possibly been avoided with a little communication. Seriously. And ladies, if you ever get or got hit with “The Fadeout” it’s probably because the guy feared commitment so soon or because you didn’t have sex with him. Shallow I know. But that’s how us men can be. I apologize for all of us because I’m not like that anymore. I swear! Because “The Fadeout” is fucked up as shit and I will NEVER EVER do it to a real woman that I like. Now excuse me while I go pray to the dating gods for them to do some smiting.
“The Fadeout?” Seriously?! Come onnnnn. Stop it.
Until next time. Always take it there.
T
Did you like this T-pisode? Then you must like comedy, originality, cool lists, real talk, sports, dating, women and awesomeness? So why aren’t you liking T-blawg on Facebook and following on Twitter? Show that you are awesome and click the “Like” & “Follow” buttons in the blue bar to the left!
