CB’s House of Porn and Pancakes

So it’s been a month since I’ve posted on here, the biggest news is I’m currently “gainfully unemployed.” It happened on June 28th, a Thursday, which I thought was a bit odd, but whatever. The only draw back was the next day was my parent’s 50th Wedding Anniversary, so all night I was barraged with questions. Everyone always asks me “are you doing ok?” Uh yeah, I don’t have to work and I get a check, severance rocks! Currently job hunting, so we’ll see how it goes…….

Now, on to the antics:

So Fourth of July was coming up and my buddy did his Top of the Met party to view the fireworks. Me and TD head there, enter the party and head right for the bar. He orders a beer, $6, I ask how much a mixed drink is, $6, well that solves that, vodka tonic please! Many drinks, we are running around, run into creepy guy who asks me repeatedly if my one friend is coming to the party, she’s not I tell him, repeatedly….. Very creepy! The fireworks start to launch, watch for a bit, walk through the party some more, run into SF, tell her about my pool party, she asks if she can bring some friends, I say sure and follow that up with “bring your boyfriend if you want.” She said “I don’t have a boyfriend” my reply “So you are saying i have a chance!” Yeah, I’m that guy…… Actually it wasn’t me, it was Seamus, he had been drinking heavily……. Post party we head to Pepper Lounge. There we run into Cosmo Boy, who gets us in the VIP section, a bottle and then leaves us, cause that’s always a good idea….. So it’s me, TD and Cosmo Boy’s intern. The intern brings up a couple of girls he knew, they all just graduated college. One girl sits down next to me, chatting with her she asks what I do, I said “We’ll I’m currently unemployed” TD chimes in that I’m “gainfully unemployed” and I explain now I know what it’s like to be a burden of the state, not work and still get a check, unemployment rules! We go through the bottle, I think there may have been another bottle I’m not sure. Somehow at the end of the night I end up with 3 email addresses. The girl I had talked to all night, she’s Croatian and asked me to pronounce her last name, somehow I slurred it correctly…. I rule, now I need to go home and die…….. Happy Birthday America!

So here is the new home of the House of of Porn and Pancakes, be sure to check back as I need to catch up on updating this thing…….

So it’s been awhile since I’ve written on here, now that the Baseball Season is finally over (I’ll talk about that in another entry) I can look back at the summer that was and take stock…..

- This was a summer of weddings, I had 5 weddings, 2 that were out of town, cool wedding party gifts included Pocket Watches and Baseball Bats

- After all the weddings I’ve been in over the years, this past summer I a) was a best man (well one of 3 best men), got to witness a Hindu ceremony and saw my brother re-marry after being a widow for many years

- Bachelor Parties took me to Vegas, DC, floating, on the float trip we coined the phrase you should live your life by “If you find it in the river, leave it in the river” Thank you Cleetus, you are a true sage.

- Made new friends and was reunited with old friends

- Can mark off West Virginia from my list of states I hadn’t visited yet, not sure if we are welcome back (Check earlier post)

- Made the Pilgrimage to Cooperstown, NY with my dad, brothers and brother-in-law, incredible trip! Cardinals were well represted there

- Made it to Boston to visit Southy, while in Boston:

1)Went to Fenway Park, drank entirely to much, the park is very cool, very much old school baseball. One major draw back, no beer vendors in the stands, that’s about as un-American as the Designated Hitter……… (yeah, I said it) Saw Timlin relief pitch for the Sox, I said “Hey I know that dude, he was a Cardinal”, just then Timlin gave up a home run that lost the lead, I then said “Now I remember why we let him go!” Saw a Home Run over the Green Monster, also saw Big Papi pinch hit. Met some of Southy’s friends, one was a Mets fan, we talked about how the Mets will probably beat whoever they face for the NLCS, how if the Cardinals keep this up, they won’t make the playoffs………. ah, funny looking back on it…… The Mets fan’s cousin was there, he was a Yankees fan that loved pushing Southy’s buttons about how NY was going to beat Boston in everything, I didn’t jump into the debate, I’m on vacation…… Good people though, talked mostly about sports all night. Ended up at Jillian’s/Lucky Strike after the game, though had difficulty finding it, flagged a cab down, the cabbie pointed and said “It’s right over there.” Oh, stupid beer!

2) Got to hit Little Italy, didn’t need my little passport. While there the waiter looked to me for everything, what to order for both of us, what wine we wanted, WHY ARE YOU FOCUSING ON ME?!? Classic was the Sox game was on behind me, Southy was watching that while I was getting the Cardinals score text to me, yeah, yeah, we are geeks……..

3) Took the Duck Boat Tour, awesome time. Ended up at the Science Museum after that, my saying the whole time “Learning is fun!” That’s also when I found out the Cardinals made the playoffs!

4) Slept on an inflatable bed, it kept deflating over the course of the night, I think Southy gives guests that bed just to mess with them. Woke up in the middle of the night almost ended up on the floor/cat, never good a good situation when you’ve been drinking

5) Went to the Sam Adams Brewery Tour, worst 30 minutes of my life, well not really, but ithe tour was only that long, though the free beer was cool! Wasn’t much to it and they should have just said “We aren’t AB and don’t strive to be” The wanna be House of Pain guys made for an interesting time…….

6) Got to have authentic Chow-Dur, good stuff! And saw Trinity Church, which was amazing

Beantown was a good time!

So I wake up one morning, stroll into my bathroom to start my day (HEY! Everyone has their own rituals) take a couple steps in and was greeted with a “squish” in the carpeting. (The geniuses before me had the bathrooms carpeted) My first thought was my dog was made at me and left me a present. But I realized instantly that the side squish was ice cold. Next thought, “Damnit! I thought I was the only thing that leaked in here!” (what? What did I say?) So I do some investigating and find that the wall is wet and there’s water dripping down from my tank of my toilet. I call the plumber who comes out, says if they have to go into the wall, it’s $140 an hr, 1 hour minimum and they aren’t replacing the wall. (I figured the latter…..) He said my service line was the culprit along with a leaky “ballcock”. (incase you are not familiar, the ballcock is the guts of your toilet, it is the flushing machinism) He said it with a straight face, me, I was biting my tongue trying not to giggle like a little school girl. It worked, for about 2 minutes….. Thankfully they didn’t have to go through the wall, but $300 later my ballcock is nice and dry. Let that be a lesson to all of you out there, don’t let your ballcock end up like mine, otherwise you’ll be ripping out carpeting like me…….

So let me set this up, having a convo with one of my friends about a girl we both know. This girl is quite attractive I think, his opinion was different.

Here’s the gist of the convo:

Name Removed to Protect Manhood: She’s cute, not hot, she wears to much makeup
Me: WTF?
Name Removed to Protect Manhood: Seriously, the other night, she was wearing to much makeup, tonight she wasn’t wearing much and she looks a lot sexier
Me: Are you a woman? What guy says that??
Name Removed to Protect Manhood: I’m just saying……….
Me: You watch the Home and Garden Network don’t you? So next you are going to say Boy George wore to much makeup and that’s why Culture Club tanked??
Name Removed to Protect Manhood: This is going to end up in your blog isn’t it?

My buddy Nuance sent this to me, thought I would share…………..

http://onion.com/opinion/index.php?issue=4129
The Onion I’m A Fucked-Up-Chick Magnet

Hey, I don’t want to brag, but when you got it, you got it. And when it comes to picking up women with severe personality disorders, I’ve got it. Seems like whenever I’m in the same room with a sexy young nutcase looking for some hot dysfunctional action, we lock eyes and I gaze right into the twisted, abnormal recesses of her psyche, and then—bam! We make an instant, undeniable, and incredibly unhealthy connection. What can I say? When it comes to women, I’m a fucked-up-chick magnet.

I know what you’re thinking: “Who is this guy to sound so full of himself?” I’m not being egotistical—it’s just true. Hey, I know I’m not perfect. Who is? We’ve all got problems. I’m sure I’ve got some myself. But here’s one problem I don’t have: the ladies. When it comes to charming every borderline psycho in a skirt, I take second place to no man. I guess I just give off that “Hey there, pretty lady with the lifelong unresolved emotional issues” vibe. It can’t be taught—you either got it or you don’t. And I got it.

Everywhere I go, all kinds of psychiatrically disturbed women come running—women who never got over a traumatic childhood accident, or habitually cut themselves, or slept with their stepfathers, or abuse substances while locked in self-destructive cycles of internalized loathing and rage. They just can’t keep their hands off me.

It’s been this way my whole life. When I was 14, I got lucky with a classmate’s mom. In high school, I dated every bipolar suicide risk in town. In college, I had at least a dozen girlfriends who couldn’t decide whether they were mental patients or lesbians. It’s just the way it is: Deranged dolls dig me.

I don’t even have to try. Maybe it’s chemistry, or pheromones, or these women can tell I’m afflicted with a complementary set of psychiatric disorders and their fucked-up-female intuition just can’t resist. Whatever it is, I’m not complaining. All I have to do is show up at a bar, and before last call, every damaged woman in the place will make a beeline for yours truly, looking to get me entangled in a horrific web of codependency, manipulation, and mutual denial.
The sex is great, too. Believe me, all these highly unstable women have so many self-esteem issues, identity crises, and subconscious needs for approval from absent or emotionally abusive father figures, they’ll do practically anything to try to please a man, no matter how self-destructive it is. Sweet!

Take this hot little nutjob who picked me up last weekend. Talk about crazy between the sheets! She cleaned my pipes six ways from Sunday before breaking down in tears out of nowhere at 4 a.m., screaming irrational threats, and trying to throw my stereo out the second-story window. Luckily, I was able to calm her down with a little TLC—time-release lithium capsules—and get her into a cab before she caused any serious property damage. But still, she can’t stay away—she’s been leaving, like, eight voicemail messages an hour on my cell phone. Hey, once they get a little taste of the old Deanster, they always come back for more… even after multiple restraining orders and injunctions.

All I can do is shrug and say, “Crazy women go crazy for me.”
Lots of guys have asked for my secret, saying stuff like, “Wow, you sure can pick ‘em,” or “Dude, you need help.” They can’t understand how I manage to attract so many hot, wild, desperately pathological chicks. But I can’t tell you my secret… It’s just some kind of inexplicable magic.
Well, whatever it is, I’m enjoying every fucked-up minute of it.

So I’m in line at the local Schnuck’s, getting a birthday card for my Sister in Law, I walk up, give the cashier my card for her to ring up, keep in mind, I was under the gun time wise, and the lady behind the counter rang up the card and then proceeded to read the card on the outside and inside……. She commented on how funny it was and then started to ask me about who I was getting the card for, are they are Fourth of July baby, etc. etc. Then started to tell me about her life story and generally just going on….. I wasn’t trying to be rude, when you don’t have a lot of time, it’s kind of like a stripper, they serve a purpose, I really don’t want the Behind the Music story……… To quote Stiffler from American Wedding “I don’t care, can’t you just dance for me!” I was cordial, paid her and got the hell out of there! Happy Fourth!