Hardknocks: Drinking with Dan-O who now smokes...

Holy shit, it's been months and years since I've posted on this blog and for good reason I suppose (not really). I've been a lazy bastard for the last probably two years, but I am going to post on this more, I promise. I post on Twitter and Facebook and that's just easy shit. That's me saying shit like "My dog scratched me in the face and now I look like a Bond villain" (fuck it is spelled villain, damn it).

Twitter and the like make people lazy as hell, and that's a problem for a lot of people unless you're like Kevin Smith (@ThatKevinSmith) who posts four thousand times a day or Kanye West (@kanyewest) who's tweets are so irreverent that it's almost painful to read them sometimes. Twitter and Facebook are making life so impersonal that it's almost as if News and Blogs are soon to be non-existent. I am just as bad as everyone else though - a fucking JETS fan to boot - and a twitteraholic (that will be a word, just you wait) and a constant facebook updater, but I must stop for my own good. My own mortality (and mental stability) depend on this.

Anyway, to the point here, my brother Dan-O came to visit on Monday for my Mother's birthday...and I spent 3 days drinking 37 beers with him in the span of what I can only guess was 18 hours, because we didn't drink all day or anything like that, we just drank at night and at the bar, and wherever we could sneak it in. The fact of the matter is that I haven't drank two days in a row in a while and my liver (who is now breathing sighs of relief) was cringing on Wednesday night when we drank the remaining 18 pack of beer that was left.

More pressing matters though would be the fact that my brother fucking smokes now, because of his girlfriend or his friend Jimmy or even my parents, I don't know. I don't smoke. I've lived by the motto love the lungs hate the liver, but lets be honest, I don't hate my liver. It's working a little overtime right now, but overall I treat it pretty well. My brother smokes Camel Lights. Joe Camel has suckered my brother into smoking cigerrettes...that Penis-Faced Mother fucker.

Either way, he's probably going to die before me now which is going to be rough despite the fact that I weigh a good 140 pounds more than he does. Smoking is a funny fucking thing, because I've tried it and I don't like it. I think it's a rite of passage that you have to try smoking a cigarette or something, but I'm glad that shit didn't stick, two of my best friends smoke. I won't smoke cigarette's - even drunk - I would smoke the weed, because at least you get something out of that - fuck, if I'm going crave something, it's going to be corn dogs, or fucking pickles, or cheese. Fuck cigarettes.

The Hard Knocks title was mainly because I watched all of Hardknocks: Training camp with the NY Jets, because I'm a die-hard fan and I never really discussed it.

Prediction: NY Jets vs. Green Bay Packers in the Superbowl. Jets taking it 24-14.

Before I go, I am getting REALLY fucking sick of the spam comments. If you're a spam commenter you're getting labeled as such you wastes of fucking space. I'm tired of getting the emails at 3 in the morning saying that "Anonymous" has posted "DO YOU WANT TO MAKE YOUR PENIS LARGER? CLICK HERE!"

Fuck you, you fucking losers.

The Adventure of Marc in the City: The Concert Edition

I hate the city. For those of you who don't know, I'm referring to New York City. "But, Marc! How can you hate New York City!? It's the greatest city in the world!" I'll tell you why I hate the city. There too many people. I'm sure JD feels the same. We hate people...hence we hate large groups of people. But anyway, I do travel into the city on extremely infrequent occasions, with last Thursday being one of them. Myself, and 3 others went to go see Reel Big Fish and Less Than Jake play at the Roseland Ballroom, marking the first time I ever went into the city to see a concert. Previously, I had said, :Where are they playing? Roseland Ballroom/Irving Plaza/whatever? Fuck that. I hate the city."

Needless to say, somehow I was talking into going. How that happened is beyond me, but alas we went. Rather than write a full, boring step by step story of what happened, instead I'm going to list a bunch of things that happened...and you all can piece it together.

1) A friend of mine throwing up on the train...on the way there. Too drunk too fast.
2) Another friend of mine FORGETTING HIS AND 2 OTHER PEOPLES TICKETS (not mine) and having to go ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE TRAIN STATION and then BACK TO THE CITY.
3) Walking around the city with 2 very drunk people and 1 very not drunk person.
4) Walking into what I swear is the biggest McDonalds ever (it was 3 fucking floors!), just to use the bathroom.
5) Going into the Roseland, and starting to sweat my ass off as there must be like 10 thousand people inside and there is like no AC.
6) Reel Big Fish plays. Awesome. I notice a lot of lesbians are fans of ska music.
7) Less Than Jake plays. Awesome. They play a version of the price is right, with plinko!
8) Drama ensues between people who came with me. They leave during the Less Than Jake because they are fighting and making a scene. I don't care.
9) Me getting angry because I can't find anyone after the concert, so I say fuck it, let the drunks find their way back to Penn Station. I'm pretty sure they'll walk in the total opposite direction.
10) Me getting phone call, asking to meet up. I halfheartedly agree. We walk back to Penn Station.
11) Me realizing I am not drunk enough to deal with this shit.
12) We get home, despite losing our ride from the train station back to my car.

Such ends another day in the city, with the Marc.