| Christmas came early |
[Dec. 13th, 2006|09:18 pm] |
Since my folks no longer drink anything but wine on occasion I figured they wouldn't have a liquor cabinet. When looking for plates a cabinet opened below me on accident, in it are at least thirty of bottles of partially finished liquors. A brief synopsis of what it contained:
-Two fifths of Captain Morgan
-A flask of Jim Beam
-Flask of Absolut
-Various fifths of Irish Whiskey that I don't recognize
-A couple bottles of Merlot
-Various champagnes
-Bailey's Irish Cream
-About ten others I couldn't read without taking everything out
Alcoholism genes, here I come! |
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| Home Sweet Home |
[Nov. 22nd, 2006|05:24 pm] |
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Well, I'm back for six weeks, hopefully those will be chock full of visiting old friends and getting money to fund my campaign of decadence at DePaul. Hopefully I should have the "First Quarter In Review" and the "Legend of Kevin Braasch" stories up soon. |
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| Drunken Diaries I |
[Sep. 14th, 2006|12:45 am] |
To begin this strange, yet epic and at some points disgusting tale of inebriated woe I would like to state that until college I seldom drank more than a few beers. For those slow on the uptake, I'm quite the lightweight and this story should serve as a warning for all other drinking neophytes. Now that we're through with background information let us traverse into the days of yore to find out just what crazy shit went down last night. My memory is sketchy so credit goes to Andy, Eric and Dave for filling in the blank spaces.
It was looking to be a rather slow tuesday consisting of my friends and I playing Guitar Hero and probably homework...this thought became instantly obliterated as soon as we joined up with Corey. Needless to say, this gentleman had the hook-ups and we walked anxiously back to the dorm with two gallons of Smirnoff Vodka. The liquor flowed and drunk Guitar Hero was played merrily...for roughly a half hour. You see my droogs, I had this crazy idea that I could go half and half with a twenty four ounce water bottle and orange juice as a chaser. Thinking I was fine after ten minutes I poured another, so in the space of twenty minutes I consumed an entire water bottle of vodka, fuck you orange juice for padding the kick. Within another ten minutes I bluntly asked a girl if she wanted to hook up, she said "I don't know" which got my shitfaced libido raring to go in a vain hope that with enough slurred smooth talking I might be able to score...that was until the nausea hit. At around 11:30 I decided I needed to vomit and staggered down the seemingly endless sets of stairs to the second floor. As soon as I reached the toilet everything let loose and let me tell you, Branko's chili dogs taste like shit the second time.
Filling the toilet I decided to cut that piece of porcelain some slack and thought it would be wise to move onto the sink...drunken logic does amuse me so. Somewhere around 12:30 my suite mate, Eric, comes in and finds me, laughs, then goes to show his friends outside introducing me with the tagline "Hey guys, want to see someone more fucked up than me?" Opening the door my blurred eyes fall upon Noel, Dave and Eric standing outside. Eric decides to make conversation to further the exploitation.
Eric: You okay man? You need to eat something.
Me: To quote Gene Wilder "Food makes me sick."
At this point a crowd gathered consisting of two more people, Amanda and Nick (our resident supplier of soul power). At this point, with my fantastic track record of thinking puking in the sink was a good idea I decided I might as well test my smooth talking, regardless of the crusted vomit on my chin. I first turn my attention to Noel, the most attractive of the group and began my slurred discourse.
Me: Noel, I've always though you were really gorgeous, but now you look even more gorgeous.
Noel: *Laughs*
Me: Yeah...I really hate gorgeous girls seeing me like this...
Eric: Hey Rob, if Noel looks even more gorgeous, how do I look?
Me: Like a girl dude.
Eric: How about Dave.
Me: Like a chick too man.
Eric: So in what order would you sleep with us?
Me: Fuck that, I'm not sleeping with anyone tonight.
Dave: Well, if you had no choice...
Me: Okay, okay, first Noel, then Amanda, then Nick, Eric and Dave.
Nick: You makin' the right choice, 'cause I have a bigger penis than all of'em.
Me: No dude...it wasn't that man, it was for affirmative action.
Now I know how Mel Gibson feels. After that I decided I was about due for another hearty round of wretching when the third floor RA came down on my walk back to the bathroom. I turned slowly to look at her, sloppily saluted and walked directly to my porcelain throne. How I didn't get busted then is beyond me, appartently she just said "that kid is funny" and walked off. Around 1:30ish my body realized there was nothing left in my digestive track so I might as well stop wretching...how nice. My last memory of the night was opening the door to my room so Andy was kind enough to fill me in from here. I staggered in and slammed the door loudly, waking my roommates up.
Andy: Dude, are you okay?
Me: I'm fucking lovin' this!
Just as I finished the "s" in this I tripped over the bean bag chair and dropped my keys off. Since drunken logic has yet to painfully fail me I decided it would be a great idea to strip into boxers. From there it was and arduous climb of three rungs up to my loft which mostly consisted of me yelling "fuck" and "shit" while trying to pull myself up to the second rung.
The rest, as they say, is history. I woke up at 6:30 with my head spinning impeding my desire to go back to sleep. Appartently Noel and Eric snapped a couple photos of me while trashed, here they are, for your viewing please (cut for the faint of heart).
( Oh shit was I gone )
As it stands right now at 1:45 AM Central time I'm writing this after smoking a joint and two bowls and three shots of vanilla vodka...and I told myself I'd take it easy tonight. To think I've only been at college two weeks... |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 7th, 2006|11:02 pm] |
So I thought of killing three birds with one stone. The three birds being exploitation of sweatshop labor in third world countries, overpopulation in the US and Emo Kids. We educate all the exploited works and ship emo kids over to work in sweatshops, as then they'll be too busy to cry about how much life sucks. Now we can enjoy no emo kids, still have cheap boxers and a more educated and advanced third world.
Oh yeah, random survey thing:
( Fill-out, or face the emo sweatshop ) |
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| To all those bitching about Zidane, here's a heartfelt message from yours truly: Shut the fuck up. |
[Jul. 10th, 2006|08:49 pm] |
This will probably be the first and last sports related entry that I'll be writing, but since it involves the World Cup I'll let it slide. The first order of business is congratulations to Italy on winning, as you and Germany were the teams I was rooting for. The second order, which I'll explain in more depth concerns the opposition: France, specifically Zinedine Zidane. For those who didn't watch the finals match (i.e. pretty much everyone in the USA) Zizou, in all his ass-kicking glory, randomly head-butted Italian player Materazzi in the chest and was subsequently red-carded and sent off on his last game in professional football. Today he was named the most valuable player of the 2006 World Cup which apparently caused an uproar from bleeding hearts world-wide. Hell, I say even he if wasn't an awesome football player he should get the award just for head-butting a guy in the chest. Apparently pussies and mouth breathers across the planet would say otherwise, well dipshits, time for a good ole fashioned ass-kicking. For those who are clueless, here's a related article: http://portal.wowway.net/news/read.php?ps=1013&id=14223546&_LT=HOME_LARSDCCLM_UNEWS
Why do I think Zidane kicks so much ass for this? Lets break down the situation. Seconds earlier Materazzi was giving him shit by yanking his jersey and trash talking, presumably climaxing with the phrase "dirty terrorist". Zizou, being born in Algeria and having escaped the country with his family to avoid being the aforementioned terrorist would be rightly pissed at the comment, considering thats directed at his family as well. So what did he do, did he cry about it like a pussy and listen to Taking Back Sunday to heal his wounded soul? Hell no, he took matters into his own hands and did the coolest thing France has ever done since Charlemagne kicked some Muslim ass back in the middle ages: he turned around and bull-charged the bastard right in the chest, knocking Materazzi's ass to the ground. In my sports experience usually you exchange fists, but Zidane even kept it to football rules and nailed the guy with his head. It doesn't get much manlier than that, finally a French player who acts like a red-blooded man instead of...well...a Frenchman.
Apparently families world-wide are in an uproar about it, especially France and Algeria to whom Zidane is a hero. Zinedine is something of a hero to them and this apparently sets a bad example to children since he's degrading the game of football. There are two things wrong with this statement: one is that they're hailing a football player as a hero. Shit Algeria, no wonder you're still stuck below the poverty line with nothing but terrorist warlords to run things. You're worshipping a guy whose paid to kick a ball around, why not pick people that actually contribute to society for a change, like charitable religious figures? Second is that you claim his head-butt tarnishes the good name of football. To that I have but one word to say: bullshit. Football fans are the most violent world-wide, have you morons ever heard the term "soccer hooligan"? The players themselves aren't much better, if they get accidentally pushed they'll go down and grab their head in mock pain, trying to fake out a ref to foul the other team. They don't even have enough balls to gain an edge the way the Laws of the Game state (i.e. actually playing), they have to act like a cocksucking sissy to get ahead. So now because one player deals with a shit-talker like a man you get all pissy? Take a step back and reexamine the actions of all the homicidal fans and weak-as-shit fakers on the teams before you bitch out Zidane for degrading a supposedly honorable game. |
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| Now a reading from the Gospel according to Alice Cooper: |
[May. 24th, 2006|09:28 pm] |
Chapter 6, Verse 16:
"School's out for summer,
School's out forever!"
Well, for the past three days I have been officially branded a Brother Rice Alumnus, gotta be honest, I don't feel too different. All in all I gotta say I really liked going to Rice, I got to meet some fantastic teachers like Mrs. Hinch, Bro Arndt and McDunn (when he isn't senile). This school has brought me a plethora of early mornings, research papers and even more inside jokes ("Go Burn Yourself!", "'Ey Shoukri babes, stop Shoukrilating in public like that, its disgusting!") The last few weeks before graduation were pretty rough with all the repertoire shows. I can't say I did an ounce of homework, hell, I managed to not turn anything in to McDunn for two weeks, miss four days of class and still get an A. I tell ya, a bit of smooth talking and advanced vocabulary goes a long way. Now for the rundown of the three shows I was in:
Proof: This was the show I was probably best prepared for memorization wise, even though my part wasn't that large. I'm no Anthony Hopkins but I think I pulled it off pretty well. In retrospect I should've done more to enhance the image of Mr. Rodgers since I was wearing a red Cardigan...maybe ditching the Cream T-shirt underneath would've helped.
Waiting for Godot: Yeah...this wasn't actually WfG in any stretch of the imagination, though I think we put on a damn entertaining show all the same, what with ridiculous clothing, lightsabers and sodomy belts. The Lucky speech was fun since I managed to work a Rolling Stones and Kiss reference in before Kaz and Stoltman tackled me.
Charlie Brown: Probably my favorite show since I could...in some way realize my dream of being a rockstar. Albeit I could've done without the flagrantly homosexual get up I was wearing but tying a scarf around the microphone in a Steven Tyler-esque fashion was positively essential. Now I just need to learn how to sing...
The weekends have been fun, most of the time I've been hanging out with folks like Brad and Ferks which have resulted in Gameworks adventures or watching early 90s kids shows like Cadillacs and Dinosaurs. Also I gotta, Ong-Bak: Thai Warrior is a fucking ridiculous movie, I can't say I've ever seen a skull be split open due to an elbow drop before. Recently I've been chilling with Justin and some members of the "Circle", some of which still owe me ten bucks for covering their share of the hookah. Hmm...other notable stuff, I tried weed for the first time and smoked too much which resulted in constant dizziness and hot flashes, it felt like I was on the fucking Chaos at Cedar Point for an hour straight. Not a fun experience folks, let me tell you.
In closing...I've realized why I'm such a remorseless bastard, its all in my name:
Robert Joseph Fidler
All three of my names have six letters, so, 666. |
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| So I played this interview game... |
[May. 6th, 2006|07:59 pm] |
Courtesy of Queen Washu I have jumped on the bandwagon of the interview game, these are the questions I got. Quite thought provoking I must say...in all the wrong ways.
1. If you HAD to go gay, who would you go out with a why? XD
I'm assuming I have to choose from people that are already gay, right? I'd have to go with Mani Caliveri (Berserk Sushi on AL), he's a pretty class guy all-around. I have a lot of respect for the man's intelligence though I think he gets a tad nit-picky in debates, fortunately I don't give a damn about politics so it would be a moot point. He appreciates how much of a bastard I am, so I won't have to worry about offending him and he can be pretty funny too. The only problem I forsee (aside from drastic differences in sexual preferences) is fighting over the radio, he likes pop-punk...I don't.
2. What are yout three biggest pet hates?
-Anyone who fits the profile of "sanctimonious fuckwad". You all know the type, those folks that pretty much think they're above any guideline, even the ones they set for themselves. The type of girl who'd chastise a friend of hers for being promiscous then go out the next night, get piss drunk and fuck a decent portion of the football team. Or say a guy who is wrapped up in religious values to the point where he contradicts himself, like stating anyone who isn't a Roman Catholic is going to hell.
-Couples who are overly touchy-feely. Any MRP kid that reads this knows exactly who I'm talking about. These are kids that are constantly all over each other for no reason...at the most inopportune times. I can dig if you're watching a romantic part of a movie at someone's house, it just goes with the territory. However, these people pull this crap just eating lunch, you'll be polishing off a corn dog and going to ask the guy if he's seen V for Vendetta yet then you look over and he's just randomly kissing his girlfriend and their hands are all over each other, get a damn room for Chrissakes. There's something insidious about it, in my mind, like something is horribly wrong with their relationship and both are extremely insecure so they try to overcompensate physically to balance it out. Be honest with each other, and don't wall yourselves up away from everyone else at the table.
-People who get overly offended at things that aren't one hundred per cent politically correct. Being a blatant asshole, this is something I run into a lot. You and your buds might be telling a funny joke thats a bit on the racist side and you're all laughing but then some punk pops out and proceeds to bitch you out for how cruel and inhumane you are. Fuck off kid, we were telling a black joke and the black guy in our group was laughing right along with us. I have a hunch these kids are really just doing it for attention to validate their otherwise pathetic and vacuous existence. Grow up, quit bitching and start laughing, people will like you more, I guarantee it.
On a side note it seems that the title "attention whore" seems to encompass all three of these pet hates of mine.
3. If Freddie Mercury and KISS got into a battle, who would win?
Hmm, I'll divide this into the three possible scenarios.
-Present Day: Freddie is dead, so KISS wins by default. However I'm pretty sure that Peter Criss, in his perpetual drunken stupor, with run into something and Freddie's urn will crash on his head, killing him.
-Late 1970s: I still say KISS, but Freddie will put up a much better fight this time around. His vicious overbite will slice through Peter Criss and Ace Frehley in one fell swoop, it will then resort to a fist fight between Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons and Mercury. Eventually they'll break off and draw lightsabers (Freddie with a dual one a la Darth Maul). The rockstars will fight all across the hallways backstage until Paul and Gene corner Freddie, where Gene will unleash his fire breath and nearly incinerate Queen's frontman. With his last burst of energy Mercury will run his saber through Gene and leave Paul as the last man standing making Kiss the victor.
-Astral Plane: This is where Mercury shines through. His powerful Zoro-astrian physic aura will conjure doubles of Kiss which will distract the New York rockers whilst Freddie, using his overbite-launcher, will shoot the four down at his leisure.
4. Would you say you are honestly cynical or are you more sensitive underneath it all?
No, I'm not that cynical, pretty much because I'm only eighteen and haven't experienced nearly enough of the world to become jaded with it. Yes, I am far more sensitive under my calloused exterior, I can still be hurt just as much as anyone else and I'm plagued by various insecurities and whatnot. Freud would probably be able to explain it better than me. I try to avoid being overly emotional because it would be extremely hypocritical of me to do so, sure plenty of insults aimed at me sting like a motherfucker but I'll be damned if I show it. Its what I expect from everyone else and I feel I should be held to the same standard. Besides, the only way I've ever been able to make people laugh (probably the thing I enjoy the most in life) is by making vindictive or snide comments and I'll be damned if I give that up to show my sensitivity. In short, do some digging and you'll find a sentimental side, but it won't manifest itself in every day conversation because I'd be rather boring if I were like that all the time.
5. Where do you see yourself in 5 years time?
There are two possibilities, one is if I diligently practice bass guitar and learn how to sing and the other is if I don't.
1. I think I'll have had a band going for a bit and we'll begin our slow, grueling climb to the top, most likely playing smaller venues like St. Andrews and various bars. In that time we'll also be trying to find our musical niche and who'll be emerging as the top songwriters and stuff. Time'sll be tough financially but I'll be praying they'll pay off, I'll probably have a side job at the time to keep the bare neccesities readily available.
2. Pretty sure I'll be writing professionally now since I'm out of college. At this time I'll probably be a bit on the low end financially since I'll be bouncing around ideas for novels and only committing to writing a fair few, fewer still will get published and sell. Once again, just like the rockstar future I'll be slowly climbing to the top, but I know I'll make it, one way or another.
To get in on this game you have to:
1. Post a comment saying "interview me".
2. I will give you five questions which should be rather thought provoking.
3. Post this in your journal with a reply. |
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| Holy fuck! |
[Apr. 18th, 2006|12:03 am] |
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Saved by the Bell is currently on at midnight on Adult Swim. Previous levels of life completeness have been shattered. |
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| Easter |
[Apr. 16th, 2006|05:02 pm] |
Happy Easter folks, I hope you're all enjoying the celebration of the day Jesus was resurrected as a white rabbit and hid colored eggs for the Apostles to find, except for Judas, all of his money turned into terrible tasting chocolate (read: Hershey's Special Dark). He was also endowed with the power to turn pebbles into malted milk balls and jelly beans. I gotta say, this break couldn'tve come sooner, I needed some time to kick back and sleep in until noon.
Stole this from Washu, here's the song game folks: I post twenty lyrics from various songs I like and its up to you, valiant heroes, to name the correct song and band that performed them. If you fail I shall brutally maim and kill the Easter Bunny, a crime so heinous it would make baby Jesus cry.
1. I told myself I could get by without love.
2. You like me, and I like it all / We like dancing, and we look divine. Di: David Bowie- Rebel, Rebel
3. Jesus freaks, out in the streets, handing tickets out for God. Di: Elton John- Tiny Dancer
4. Caught the city by the 1 AM. Di: Judas Priest- Living After Midnight
5. Slipping notes, under the desk, while I was thinkin' about her dress. Di: J. Geils Band- Centerfold
6. I can't get a fight from the advertising world.
7. I want my MTV. Di: Dire Straits- Money for Nothing
8. Motel money murder madness.
9. Please tell us why, please tell us why you'd hide away for so long.
10. They're pussies! Heavy metal pussies!
11. Just me and me pal Johnny Walker, with his buddies Black and Red. Di: George Thorogood- I Drink Alone
12. Never met a girl like you before, just like any song from days of yore.
13. Travelin' man, love when I can.
14. I've only got one burnin' desire.
15. I'm a dinosaur, somebodies been diggin' my bones.
16. I'm a patient boy, I wait I wait I wait.
17. Gamblins' for fools, but thats the way I like it baby.
18. And like somebody say, we crossed the Spanish main.
19. Gold watch, diamond ring, ain't missin' a single thing.
20. All the world is a stage and we are merely players, performers and portrayers. LDP: Rush - Limelight |
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