May 21st, 2002


Saturday Is Incriminating Pictures Day

The Lakers had been playing quite shittily for most of the season, so it was reassuring to see them blow past the Kings in Game 1 like a bullet through wet tissue. Being a fan of teams that have constantly set me up for heartache and gut-wrenching despair – like the Steelers and Stanford – I’m glad to have at least one team that I can depend on to win it all with very few stress-related ulcers.

Saturday night’s party was a letdown in many people’s eyes. Jack rented out a restaurant in downtown and started sending out mass emails a few weeks beforehand. He was expecting maybe 500 or more people, but less than half that showed up. On the bright side, that meant more Grey Goose for everybody. And when that happens, you end up with pictures like the ones below (There's a good chance the images won't pop up, in which case feel free to use your imagination you sick bastards)...

I think my friend on the right wanted a threesome, but I would have none of it. Quite frankly I think it’s morally wrong to have sex with less than three women at the same time.

Two previously heterosexual friends find a unique yet effective way to out each other.

As the two women attack, my friend quickly employs one of the moves he learned in his nipple self-defense class.

You can imagine my joy at the end of the evening when it miraculously began to rain crystal meth.

Sunday Was Maxi Pads Day

Went wedding gift shopping on Sunday.

As a word, ‘shopping’ by itself is horrid. You add the word ‘gift,’ and it turns rancid. Pile ‘wedding’ onto the mess and you’ve got quite possibly the three most painful words in the English language.

Actually, I take that back. The three most painful words are in the nuts. Because you put those three words in any sentence – such as “She had this cute little puppy, and it bit him in the nuts” or “I was composing poetry, and my pen stabbed me in the nuts” - and all men within earshot double over like a food-poisoned Kobe. But back to wedding gift shopping.

Every item in the couple’s gift registry was either kitchen or bed-related crap. Surprise, surprise. Being completely clueless about these things, what I normally do is decide on a dollar amount for the gift and look for items that fall in that price range. For the last wedding, I got table place settings. I’m sure the groom was ecstatic.

For this wedding, I looked down the Macy’s registry list to the Bed Linens section. There I found “CALVIN KLEIN HOME PLAID ORGANZA 12X16" PILLOW TAUPE.” The bride, I mean, the couple wanted two of them, which added up to $150. The salesman went to fetch them. When I saw them at the counter, I was stunned…

ME: Are you sure they’re the pillows from the list?

SALESMAN: Yes, see it says right here on the tags: Plaid Organza, Taupe. They’re throw pillows.

ME: These tiny, insignificant things are 75 bucks each??? These can’t be pillows. They’re maxi pads.

I immediately got a flashback to my birthday a few years ago, when my girlfriend got me a fancy bed set. At least I thought it was a bed set; because instead of a blanket, it was called a duvet. And the pillowcases were called shams. You’re not even supposed to sleep on shams, as it turns out, hence the name. They, like those little tampon pillows I ended up buying, were merely for decorative purposes only. The moment they were on my bed, I instantly turned gay.

Thank God for gift receipts. I can picture the groom sneaking out of the house after the wedding, with those tiny dumb-ass pillows tucked under his arms, and quickly driving off to Macy’s to return them for cold, hard, extremely useful cash.