Posted by todd
Fri, 18 May 2007 20:38:00 GMT
There are several reasons for my lack of stories lately. First off, I travel too much and work for a startup company; which basically gives me the attention span of a ferret on speed.
I also have had a girlfriend for an extended amount of time. (The length of 5 girlfriends if you go back a few years, seriously.)
Now, this is a good thing(tm). It's nice having someone around, and it gives me a reason to come home instead of going out every night(ok, this is good and bad). Plus, she's really hot!(you know your girlfriend is hot when she gets hit on by women as often as men.) All that being said, long term girlfriends, especially ones who pretty much live with you..... have challenges(probably for her more than me).
Think about what this poor girl is dealing with.
At home, my skills have remained roughly constant throughout my life, this is not to her advantage....
1. I don't cook often(sammiches count). I certainly don't cook well.
2. Left alone, my refrigerator will contain beer, pizza, and ketchup within two weeks. Pizza is considered fresh until the cheese won't melt in the microwave anymore. Throwing it out earlier than that will cause me to miss breakfast.
3. I can fix anything in a house, but I can not fix it "properly".
4. I take things apart. Sometimes, I put them mostly back together.
5. I can build nearly anything FOR a house, but I shouldn't. (walls for example).
Ooh, building things. Sorry, I need to stop my list for a moment.
It's always intrigued to me how loosely defined things are in the construction world. In "real" construction this means that if things don't quite fit, you cut off a piece and make it fit. Building things is like doing a jig-saw puzzle, using scissors.
In "guy" construction, this holds true, but the implementation is different. For example:
1. This means that if it's made of drywall and points roughly vertically; it's a fucking wall. (Bonus points if the couch isn't holding it up.)
2. If my drink doesn't slide off of it when I set it down; it's a table.
3. If...say... I were to lose one of the legs of my bed while moving, calculus books are a viable substitute. (Note: Occasionally the books slip, causing the bed to cease being a table, as defined in #2)
My family owned a construction company for many years, and to this day there is a different name for "guy construction" at home. It's called, "Joe'ed".
Back in the day, Joe was the "mechanic" for the construction company. Machines broke, Joe "fixed" them.
Joe's gas tank was broken in his car. He (not kidding) "fixed" that by running a tube from the gas can sitting back seat, to the engine. (It was possibly the "back back" seat if I remember correctly. I was young.)
Joe also smoked in his car.
I don't know what ever happened to the guy(critical burns?), but to this day Whenever something is broken in the apartment, I channel Joe.
Now, I've just outlined the basic genres of my domestic inadequacy. I'll leave it to the reader to imagine the rest. Beyond the in-house difficulties life with me, I'm also obsessive enough about building companies that I often forget to eat.
The poor girl has her work cut out for her.
Now that I've properly demonstrated what "ferret on speed" means, I'll return you to your regularly scheduled programming. I'm landing in Portland, OR.
-T
Posted in Girlfriends, Travel | Tags construction, girlfriend, portland | 14 comments
Posted by todd
Wed, 21 Mar 2007 14:17:00 GMT
I'm in somewhat of a pickle right now. A lazy, wet, slacker, pickle.
You see it's raining in San Diego, which in case you don't know, causes massive repurcussions throughout the city. Cars crashing at will, people soaking wet (umbrellas aren't exactly huge here), cats and dogs living together.... Mayhem!
Also, it makes me lazy and I'm having trouble going outside to get my morning coffee. It would require pants, probably, and I know you are all with me when I say "fuck pants".
Unfortunately this is a problem. In what may be a fatal error, I'm simultaneously addicted to coffee, and don't own a coffee maker. Normally this isn't an issue since I consider myself to live on top of a giant coffee machine.
Starbucks is immediately below my feet. Sometimes you can even hear the music, softly, through the floor. Just hearing Norah Jones can cause my car to swerve off the road, which is common, although in my case it's not to end the pain; it's to find coffee. Pavlovian, yes, except with boobs. (WIN!)
The lack of a coffee machine in my apartment is a point of contention between my girlfriend and I. Her point of view is that we each spend roughly $60/month at Starbucks, and that this is somehow a waste of money. She's a college student. Damn economics class. My point of view is somewhat more complicated(Shocking, I know).
My opinion, which I'm sure bothers Kayoko since it's purely based on sarcasm, is "But where will the Barista sleep?".
The reality is that yes, it's a huge waste of money, but unlike the other huge wastes of money in our lives, this one goes great with blueberry muffins.
Besides, even the homeless guys here drink Starbucks coffee. They even drink it when it's raining!
The other point of my argument is that to properly run a coffee maker, you generally want coffee. You can get away without filters with a bit of Macguyver action, but without beans, you're screwed.
I wrote this entire post in the hopes that coffee would magically appear on my desk to avoid walking 30 feet to a coffee shop.
Where do you think I'd go get my coffee beans from?
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags coffee, lazy, starbucks | 33 comments
Posted by todd
Sat, 12 Aug 2006 17:04:00 GMT
Ok fine, I'm not. Actually I'm becoming even more of a pasty white boy, due to my lack of time outdoors lately.
However, my friend Kay is VERY Japanese... and quite possibly the cutest thing...ever...
Apparently there are subtle differences between the US and Japanese versions of Mickey Mouse... such as the way the MouseKeteer theme song goes... and the location of mouse ears.
So, without further ado, here is Kayoko singing the hit single from her new album... Mickey Mouse. (She doesn't know about this website, so I'm safe).
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags girlfriend, japan, kay, mickey, mouse, sushi | 16 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Wed, 01 Mar 2006 04:52:00 GMT
Seriously.
As a non-jounalist, here's my little shot out to the cops across the world.
Fuck yourself.
Now I know what you hippy bastards might say. "Police Officers risk their lives for us". You have watched too many movies. 95% or cops don't do anything useful. The the remainder were born in a bad neighborhood and have something to prove.
I've hated cops my whole life, and I'm far from a thug. My favorite hometown cop clearly got abused in high school and brought it out on everyone who did something he didn't like. He was the father of a personal friend of mine, and the prick tried to illeagally search my car once, because he was under the impression I smoked pot.
Sgt. Canfield. Blow me. (sorry Jim)
Let me put this in a present day perspective. A guy got shot less than a hundred yards from my apartment a few days ago. Guess what happened.
NOTHING.
Some felon got arrested for posession of a firearm, but almost a week later they don't know who really shot the guy. The felon hasn't been charged.
Tonight, Mardi Gras....my girlfriend flashed her boobs out my window.... which honestly I thought was the whole point... . Five police officers were at my door before the beads stopped flying.
AND SHE HAS NICE BOOBS!
To top it off, I live in a secure building. The point is, when anything that ACTUALLY requires the police happens, cops are too busy discussing the big play from their glory days... but it comes down to something like jaywalking or having fun, they spring to action like the teenage mutant ninja turtles. (except not as cool)
So if you happen to know a news guy/journalist in the area please show them this story. You can shoot a car full of bullets in downtown San Diego without concern. But if there is nudity during FUCKING MARDI GRAS, be prepared for ex jarheads and highschool baseball players at your door. It makes them feel manly.
To their credit, they didn't arrest anybody. They really just wanted to see some boobs. It's a reasonable goal, but maybe, just maybe they should spend a bit more time doing their jobs. Protect, serve, or do something other than drink coffee outside my apartment and STILL not catch a guy shooting someone within eyesight of their Starbucks.
Or get some beads.
(one last time)
Cops.
Fuck off.
-Todd
(ps.. actual humor to come soon. I have lots of stories to share, but I'm pissed right now)
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags boobs, cops suck, mardi gras, nudity | 10 comments | 69 trackbacks
Posted by todd
Thu, 16 Feb 2006 07:09:00 GMT
Ok fine, I didn't really go to Hong Kong. However, Emily and I *did* go to THE Hong Kong in down town San Diego. By the end of the night everyone was speaking in another language anyway. Either that or I'd had one too many "Mojos"
So many places in this town are geared towards eveyone looking perfect and sipping martini's, so occasionally I like to go somewhere that doesn't even have teeth, yet alone fancy glasses.
Well my friends. Hong Kong was just such a place. Dirty, with a bad juke box and a pool table off in the corner. Navy hat's hanging all over the place, and 3 middle age Chinese women behind the bar. Judging by the pictures of them all over the wall, they had been there for their entire lives.
Oh yeah, and to get into the bathroom, you had to put a WASHER into the door. They gave you a washer with each beer. I kept mine as a souvenir.
Anyway, everything started off pretty tame. Emily made a dive bar mistake and ordered a wine. Somehow it didn't come out of a box and was actually decent. (so she says). I stuck with the beer.
We were sort of looking around behind the bar at all the weird shit you could buy to eat. Stewed Duck Soup (serious), various Ramen noodles, mostly stuff I had never seen before. Then we noticed the sign pictured above.
The next sentence out of my mouth set the stage for the rest of the night. "Ok fine, I'll bite, what's a Mojo". It was the only $8 drink in the bar.
The insane retired navy guy next to me laughed, the Chinese ladies repeatedly said "Mojo make you smaaat!"... and occasionally added in "make you hooorny too!".
After recovering from actually hearing Chinese ladies say horny and making sexual gestures, we signed up for some Mojo's. The navy guy, Daniel, joined for moral support.
Now as far as I recall.. A Mojo is about 5 shots of liquor in a mason jar, with a splah of fruit juice and some Budweiser beer. Somehow it tasted exactly like fruit punch. Fruit punch of doooooom!
This is Emily and I after 1 round of Mojos.
If there's one thing I know about drinking, it's that once you get locked into doing something clearly stupid (such as drinking Mojos), you commit. You can't go in half assed to drinking fruit punch.. that's what I always say.
And damnit we didn't. A few Mojo's later Daniel had finished telling us his story about how he keeps dying (twice so far, once for 45 minutes apparently), and was generally getting on my nerves.
Here is me wishing he would "beat it".
After we escaped from Daniel we stumbled home. I don't honestly recall if we were horny or not, but I definitely felt smart.
-T
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags alcohol, asians, dive bars, MoJo, weirdos | 8 comments | 69 trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 29 Oct 2005 17:18:00 GMT
There's an old'ish saying, "On the internet, nobody knows you're a fish.".
Having spent enough time here, I know that people are often not who they seem, which makes me skeptical of everything online.
When the gorgeous 22 year old from match.com contacted me... well I presumed she was really a 45 year old guy.
Luckily, I'm good at the internet. If it can be found, I can find it, so in following with the recent stalker theme... The girl was hunted down. It only took about 10 minutes to find her Flickr photostream, as she uses the same handle everywhere. She is, in fact, a hot 22 year old.
Now, even though it was essential to prove her legitimacy, I still felt pretty bad about sneaking around when she was being honest. I had gathered all sorts of information based on the photos. She seemed like a party girl... She had a lot of friends... She spent a lot of time in Finland as well as the US.. She liked making out with girls...
Works for me.
So, in true Napoleon Dynamite style.. I've been chatting online with babes all day. Flippin Sweet!
We were trading pictures (with me still not letting on that I'd seen plenty), and she says "I like this one of you". Then she sent me my Blogger.com photo. She'd found this site. Fuck.
Shockingly, she still came over. At 3am. On a Tuesday.
At any rate, this story is really MUCH more involved and humerous... but since she will probably read this, it's not getting shared here. The short is, I've just started dating a girl who is probably too young for me, but seems to have her shit together a lot more than most women my age. This one might be around for awhile.
Why does she want to date an old man like me?
Hell if I care.
(ps.. I'm going to buy a new bachelor domain today that isn't tied to me. If you comment here regularly, I'll let you know where it is soon)
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags birth of bachelor todd, emily, finland, lesbians | 17 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Thu, 13 Oct 2005 21:24:00 GMT
Charity. Not an ex-girlfriend.(although I try)
An important activity when traveling is to sample the local flavor. In particular, the local flavor of beer.
Luckily Charity and I have a long history of drinking copious amounts of alcohol together. Together we set out to see who went blind first.
After giving me a couple hours head start by attending a family dinner, she showed up at the bar I'd found. Brewski's, which as you can tell by the name, is a classy little joint, and is near the Arkansas college campus. Really, how wrong can you go with a name like Brewski's?
The reader may have noticed that I like weird people... and my friends... it was like a weirdo convention had descended on us. Either that, or I think shit's funny when I'm drunk.
Whatever.
A few warmup weirdo's, and it was pro time. Let me tell you folks, these boys didn't screw around, and I'm pretty sure I've got a chunk of a BBQ sammich lodged in my heart from laughing so hard.
We were sitting at a table right next to the sidewalk, for maximum hilarity, when a guy walked by looking pretty angry/scary. He had a roll of duct tape in his hand, and it appeared he was ready to beat someone with it. After he walked past once, he turned around and walked up to us. It was a bit intimidating at first, especially given the first words out of his mouth.
(In my best southern redneck accent) "Hey, you wanna make a quick three dollars?".
I couldn't make this shit up. He *actually* said that.
Me (dumbfounded): Naah, I'm good. (as
THIS popped into my head)
DuctMan: Cmon, three dollars, it'l only take a minute.
Me (somewhat afraid to ask): What do you want me to do?
DuctMan: Ah got ah torn rotator cuff and ah need someone to tape me up.
*blink*....*blink*...
Now, in hindsight, I *never* should have passed up the chance to duct tape a hillbilly, but I told him I didn't want to hurt him any more and declined. (Also, I feel somewhat bad about this now because he was probably in pain, but hey, WHO SAYS THAT!)
DuctMan (walking into the bar to ask someone else): Naah, you won't hurt me more, less yer real mad at me.
Charity and I sort of stared at each other for a minute while the guy went around the bar asking other people and eventually found a girl who said she'd do it. He wasn't kidding. He took off his jacket said, "ya just go round mah shoulder, then round mah chest.. then back over mah shoulder. do that three four times". She accidentally taped his skin, but he said that was ok and put on his jacket and left.
At least he didn't have a toothache, or need a physical.
Next, a man who looked a LOT like Dee Snyder walked out. (Dee pictured below for anyone who has forgotten all that is Twisted Sister)
Dee went and got on this crazy looking motorcycle that I'm *pretty* sure he built himself. He was wearing a lot of tight leather, so Charity and I were already laughing pretty hysterically when something happened that I still haven't quite recovered from seeing.
I'd looked away for a minute, and Charity says "Oh nuh uh." Yuh huh.
A woman no less than 65 years old, I'm presuming his mother, walked out and proceeded to put on a pair of huge biker goggles. She climbed on the back of the bike and sat there for a while while Dee backed the bike up across 2 lanes of traffic and took off with her.
I decided that if one more thing happened, I was moving there just for the humor value. Luckily that was it for the strange ones.
It's a sign of the times people... tight leather is coming back. I for one won't be missing the boat this time.
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags arkansas, charity, drinking, duct tape, future ex-wife, rednecks, wedding | 14 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Tue, 04 Oct 2005 20:34:00 GMT
Loose lips sink ships. It's quickly becoming clear that having a website with my name on it could be....problematic.
Discussing the details of my Seinfeldian dating life has always been fun, but Google is going to get me in trouble sooner or later.
You see, people, and women in particular, are sneaky weasels.
They investigate things..It's extremely common to "Google" someone before you go on a date. That used to be fine, because there are thousands of Todd Allens. Somehow though, out of 9,470,000 results for my name, I have become #9. Finding me on the internet has become the online equivalent of finding a Starbucks, and when is the last time you saw a Starbucks on a date! Huh?! Tell me that!
I'm screwed, or rather if my dates start looking me up, I'm not. This will not stand.
So until I remedy this problem, my stories are going to be less timely. I'm imposing a post-mortem rule on all dating related posts. You won't hear the story until the girl is gone for good. It's the only way I can keep telling them in the traditional/non-PC manner, without being stabbed in my sleep.
Sucks too.. I had a really funny/good weekend. All I can say for now is that step #2 from the getting dumped guide is complete, and went *much* better than anticipated given my current lack of hair.
I'll try and remember some oldies/goodies until the time lag works itself out.
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags busted, cock block, google | 27 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Tue, 13 Sep 2005 19:28:00 GMT
AKA: Not getting any, got one, and got them all over my floor.
So, Gun Girl is officially gone.. Probably for good. That's life.
I'm officially Bachelor Todd again! This isn't really a good thing for me, nor what I wanted, but at least my stories will get more interesting again. It's all about YOU isn't it! You self serving bastards.
Like any real guy knows, after a breakup there are three things you must immediately do to get back into the swing of things.
1. Get blind drunk. When you can't move the next day due to a crushing hangover, you won't think about her as much.
2. Get pimped out and go hit on women. Even if they shoot you down, it gets you back into the game. This is a work in progress, and given the state of my haircut, I'm confident I'll get shot down.
3. Rent a Saxophone. Ok fine.. #3 isn't standard, but screw you it's my story.
Step 1 was easily accomplished, twice actually. Night 1 with my bartender friends, who fed me entirely too much Sambuca.(note: bartenders will hurt you if they know you live next door and aren't driving anywhere) Night 2 was with my friends that own/work for adult oriented companies (Welcome to San Diego). With those guys, their entire life is basically a big party, which really makes it hard for me to compete. After about 5 rounds of shots, my better judgment got to me and I retreated home, not to leave the couch until Monday.
Step 2, as I said, is a work in progress.
Let me walk you through the thought process that caused Step 3:
- Being single, I don't have much else to do. (10 hours/day on the computer is enough)
- It's healthier than drinking.
- It has lots of buttons on it, making it the closest instrument to a keyboard.. well, other than a keyboard. I type absurdly fast so it's sort of natural.
- At the very least I can squeal back at the bums when they bother me at night.
- A secret: I played Cello for many years growing up, even for the junior philharmonic a bit... until I quit during my death metal days. (Metallica stole that shit from ME!)
After spending an hour or so in the parking garage, I could play notes confidently enough that the cat wouldn't throw himself out the window. Don't get me wrong, I'm TERRIBLE... but at least now it doesn't just screech.
Now all I need is a blues song, and I'll be all set.. Lets try that.
The Bachelor Blues:
My baby done left me on Thursday.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
She said she just needed to think.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
My living room floor is all littered with socks,
and the laundry turned all my shirts pink.
The kitchen still smells like a fireplace.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
I can't even look at the sink.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
The bums are outside, playing ride sally ride,
so I guess that I'd better go drink.
I've got the.....
no lovin...
burnt oven...
not scrubbin...
bum buggin...
I got the bachelor blues.
Well Tonya served me up a strong one,
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
For good measure she had one herself.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
Some scary lady, had her good eye on me,
but beside her I looked like an elf.
I've got the blues... I've got the bachelor blues.
-T-Bone
(Ok, so there should probably be at least one more verse, but I'm lazy.. So you make it up)
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags bastards, blues, breakups, drinking, gun girl | 15 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 20 Aug 2005 23:45:00 GMT
I've been busy lately so I have a lack of current funny again. However, I just had a TV show give me a flashback to Edinboro University (where I went to college). Back in the day (ok fine, and now) I had a habit of giving my dates nicknames... Meet "Deaf Chick"
Back in the day, before my fonzi like skills were perfected, I was just a normal computer geek. This was pre-world-wide-web days, so the "internet" consisted of text based chat boards.
While the computer science majors had a legitimate reason to spend all day in the lab, it was largely (ba dum ching) dominated by fat girls. You see, the anonymity of a text only world allowed the fat girl to pretend she was hot. They took full advantage of this and often spent entire days giggling and wheezing as they tricked some poor guy into chatting with them all day long. (what they didn't know was that the guy was probably a 55 year old who hadn't left the server room in 10 years.. but hey, whatever floats your boat)
Anyway... this has nothing to do with the story.
When an actually attractive girl walked into the computer lab, she stood out. So when Heather walked in, she was easy to notice. Unlike the normal girls in the lab she had zero, count em ZERO potato chips stuck to her. She had to be mine.
Like any good guy would do, I sat down next to her and thought up a way to talk to her.
When you are in a place you are comfortable, it's easier to meet new people. This was my place, so I started talking to her. (honestly I forget what my opening line was.. old age etc...). To my shock, she didn't say *anything* back. She didn't even look up from her keyboard. Totally rude.
Now, I tend to mumble, so writing it off to that, I tried again. NOTHING.
So, in my most suave style, I poked her.
THAT got her attention. She was shocked. I think I asked if I could borrow her pen that time, but now the problem became apparent.
She had massive, huge, hearing aids. (you couldn't tell with her hair).
Not one to be shaken by such things, I got her phone number without flinching. In hindsight, this was another mistake.. It's hard for deaf chicks to talk on the phone.
Deaf Chick and I dated for about 2 months (the standard at the time), and while it didn't work out (she was the most boring person I'd ever met), it was a learning experience and she was a very sweet girl.
The first thing I learned was that she also had pretty bad vision. When we'd go to bed, she would take out her contacts and hearing aids, and it was basically impossible to talk to her. I'd joke that we "spoke the language of luuuuuvv". (She wasn't very good at..um...speaking, either.. and not due to her hearing problem)
The other thing I learned was that watching television with the subtitles on is awesome. Do you know how well you can multitask with no sound?
Not to mention that with a deaf girlfriend, if you get in a fight you can say rude things, and she'll never know!
Next up, Indian Chick.
Posted in Girlfriends | 13 comments | no trackbacks
