Big Money... no whammy!
3... 5... 12... 16... 34... and the mega is 27.
Shit! Again, another weekend, another loss. Why I keep playing this? Well, it's because I'm just as much a loser everyone else who plays this.
The Mega Lottery hit over $200 million this weekend. And just like every other poor son of a bitch with no future, I bought a couple of tickets. I know my chances of winning are about the same as me getting in a sex sandwich with Keira Knightly and Jessica Alba. Our schedules are too busy and I keep missing their calls. But anyway, it doesn't bother me that I'm a sucker wasting 2 or 3 bucks every so often. What I want to know is does everyone else feel as lame as I do when you walk in to buy those damn things? Like you feel guilty for buying Lotto tickets?
I don't know what exactly it is, but it feels similar to the first time I bought condoms. Like I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing. I might as well top it off and ask for both together with a bottle of alcohol.
Fob: *looks around* "Hi... um... can I get 3 bucks on the Mega, a pack of trojans, and a bottle of your finest Ol' English."
Store Owner: "That'll be 14 dollars."
Fob: "Hmm..." *checks pockets* "Better make that Steel Reserve instead of OE..."
I'm trying not to be a 'tard who puts all his hopes and dreams on a stupid lottery ticket. I'd like to think my life is much better than that. But lets face it, I do it because I have those pipe dreams just like what they show on those commercials for the Lotto. Doing what you want, without having to worry about the cash. Who wouldn't think it'd be nice to have a life with no financial worries? It would be a welcome change to work a profession without having to worry about how much I make. Just like that time I worked as Hugh Hefner's stunt double.
Director: "Okay Hugh, you're going to walk into the bedroom with these three playboy bunnies."
Hugh: "I'm sorry I've overdosed on Viagra this week. I can't have sex with these bunnies."
Director: "It's okay. We've thought of that. Stunt double!!!"
Fobby: "Coming!!! Hello ladies!!!!"
HOF
I know it's not quite the same as getting a peak at a nipple but I think considering the author, I'd be doing you peeps a favor by not posting half naked pictures of myself on Thursdays. So I thought, "Hmm... what can I do, that would be similar but within my style."
So I came up with this! Hung Over Fridays...
These will basically be photos of why I'm all messed up and looking like hammered shit. Not necessarily me being hung over. But more the reason why. If anything, just photos of drunken happiness. So enjoy.
All I have to say is if you ever stay in room 9544 at the Venetian in Vegas...
Ask for new pillows.
Anime Hair
http://www.nozomionline.com/entertainment/animehair.html
If you're like me and you have a nappy afro, go take a look at this. Just something to consider if you got the pubic head.
Vegas Baby!
Trent: They're gonna give daddy the Rainman suite, you dig that?
Mike: Do you think we'll get there by midnight?
Trent: Baby, we're going to be up five hundy by midnight!
Mike: Yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh!
Trent: Vegas baby! Vegas!
Mike: Vegas!
The party capital. Land of sin. It's the place you go to do things you normally would not do at home like gambling away your rent money, clubbing until 6 a.m., drinking more alcohol than your body can hold, and hooking up with a person so ugly that normally you'd cut out your eyes if forced to stare at him/her for too long.
Those activities are fine and dandy, but the shadiness doesn't stop there. I recently found something new that I know you dirty lonely whores on a budget would enjoy. Since prostitution is so expensive, why don't you get out cheap by heading over to Chinatown in Vegas off "Mountain Spring Rd." and get yourself a happy endings massage.
Why I know this you ask? Well my friends and I had the bright idea of getting a massage but the prices at the hotel are beyond what my poor ass can afford. So we head over to Chinatown thinking of getting a legitimate massage for significantly less.
Now what they actually do, I can't say because I chose not to receive the happy ending. I figured if God wanted me to do a prostitute, he would have let my mail ordered Thai bride into this country. So I can't say for sure. But my friend who's 30 minute massage took an hour seemed extremely satisfied when he came out. What happened? He won't say. But I speculate it went something like...
Masseuse: "Prease take off yur crothes!"
Friend: "Um... everything?"
Masseuse: "Yes prease." *starts rubbing him down*
Friend: "Excuse me that's my penis. My back's over here."
Masseuse: "Yes, special massage. You pay more later."
Friend: "Um.... I... can't.... afford... HOW MUCH IS IT ANYWAY?"
Masseuse: "For you special price. 35 dolla."
Friend: "That's... fine... I MEAN THAT'S TOO MUCH! 20 dollars?"
Masseuse: "Okay I give you special price. $34.50"
Friend: "No... I... can't.... AHHHHH!!! Damn! Here's $40. Keep the change."
Did this actually happen? Probably not. Does my friend have a new STD? Probably so...
Writing Practice
Just felt like writing nonsense so here it is.
_______
"It's in the eyes. It says it all." I said casually with my mouth open as I continued to chew my sandwich. He took a break from eating his to absorb what I had just said. And as I glanced up to see his expression I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about. The look of "D'uhh, what?" was slapped all over his face. But then I guess that's why he's sitting here bothering me, preventing the enjoyment of this truly great tuna sandwich. I take one more glance at the tuna and think if I should take another bite, but that anxious look on his face shows that he's waiting on the edge of his seat for me to elaborate. "Look, you just got to see if she has the goo-goo eyes." I tell him.
"The what?" He asks quickly.
"The goo-goo eyes." I repeat. My hunger no longer patient forces me to consume one more bite. I no longer care about being polite and speak with a mouthful, "It's that look. When the eyes are all puppy dog-ish and she has that look on her face that says pass me the butter big boy!" I do a little motion of a growl with my face and make the noise "Rawr!" which I'm sure he got a glimpse of handfulls of tuna stuck all between my teeth. But I own him right now with what I'm saying so I know he won't do a witty insult.
In a confused, frantic speech he replies, "Well... but... what's that look? How will I know it when I see it???" His face so desperate for an answer, I hope he isn't this pathetic in front of her.
I fold the wrapper of my sandwich tightly back up, stand up and look at him one more time and chuckle. I put my hand on his shoulder and say "No worries man. The second she gets close enough to kiss you, she'll probably smell that stanky breath and wonder who took a shit down your throat."
The seriousness in his face turns quickly to a laugh held in, "You son of a bitch!" he returns instantly. "I guess that's what I get for asking advice from a guy who looks like he just ate out the little mermaid."
Ouch! Damn, that was a good comeback, I think to myself. "Haha... Well I'm out of here. Say hi to your left hand tonight. Because I know that's the only play you'll see this evening." I attempt one last comeback as I walk away hoping to come out on top.
"Up yours!" he replies. "You're wrong. I'm right-handed..."
I got jacked
http://www.theshadowchronicles.com/trailer.php
I don't know how many of you were born in the late 70's or early 80's, but growing up, every boy knew about two certain cartoons. Voltron and Robotech. Personally, I thought Voltron was crap but I still watched it. I mean, it was still better than the Smurfs. But what I'm here to talk about is the almost 20 year reunion comeback of Robotech. In my search for fobness on the internet I found this site that has a trailer for an upcoming installment in the Robotech saga.
Yeah, I know it was a cartoon 20 years ago. Who cares??? But this anime holds a certain amount of value to me. Like when I was a happy little bastard and didn't care about anything. It reminds me of those days.
But the thing that gets me, is this was my damn idea to bring this show back. My cousin Mojo can back me up on this, is that I've always been wanting to write a movie screenplay on Robotech. I thought it out before and I thought I had a good idea for a movie. Of course my writing sucks ass, which is why there's currently nothing to read, but the ideas were in place.
Well who knows. Maybe it's not too late. And watching this new series may motivate me to actually start putting something together. I just have to learn how to put the bottle down. Must... have... one... more... sip...
Operation J-pop Girlfriend
http://www.nozomionline.com/entertainment/operationgirlfriend.html
This is what my time at work has come down to. Writing articles for this site. Check it out.
Run Forrest!
My shit hurts. And for the first time I'm not referring to a huge dump that I just took. That was last night and I couldn't post about it. What I mean is my body is sore as hell.
I'd say each week, I work out about 3 to 4 times for about an hour and half. That includes light weights and a crap load of cardio. But lately I've noticed my legs have gotten smaller over the years. I guess the 15 years of soccer has always left me with tree trunk legs. But I think those trees are starting to wither away.
So to gain back some of the muscle I had in my legs, I've been sprinting at the local high school track. And I know what you're thinking. You think I'm just going there to check out the little high school girlies. But you're wrong! I go late at night. I tried going during school hours but they just kicked me out and took my binoculars so I can't even watch from far away.
Anyway, here I am now at work. I feel like a cripple because I ran my ass off last night. And my coworkers think something's up with me because I'm walking around like I shit my pants.
So is it all worth it? The body aches and weird stares? Probably not. But it's something my vain ass has to do. I'm just afraid I'll lose motivation sooner or later. So if you see me running from dogs and cops in your neighborhood, don't fret! I'm just working out.
