RKMBs Forums AUGUST 2006

the view from the room was really shweet. it was the full beach and pool area to the right, views all the way out to the ships on the horizon. to the left it was the sunset silohuetting the inland miami skyline. the windows even opened wider to get a better glimpse at both halves.

after a few hours of hanging out, and as the clock approached midnight, we figured it was probably best to just hang out for the night, and check out the sites and nightlife on tuesday, after many many beach hours, of course.

but, being hungry, we thought we'd give room service a try - a first for me.

the room service menu was surprisingly deep, and even more surprisingly good. the prices were, of course, higher -- already established as the miami norm -- but y'just can't beat the convenience of having someone bring shit to your door.

we got a nice, full lil spread, sammidges and steaks and soups and asian vegetables. no hot asian bitch to eat the food off of, as tv would lead you to believe. i was disappointed, but... the food was really very good, allbeit pricey.

and noted on the bill was, again, the 18% included addition. of course.

tuesday morning. bright and early! we're up with the sunrise, dressed and ready to make our way towards the beach, securing the best possible spot.

...or...

we sleep until 11:30 am, and have a great fucking time doing it. this aint no vegas, there's not all that much to do to take up your daily itinerary. we could afford a few days of not giving a fuck, and just laying around in the morning.

no complaints from here, thats for sure.

once we did get up, we made the long treck out to the shoreline. we passed by the cabana check point, where we picked up our free rent-a-towels, courtesy of the hotel. then, marched further towards the beach, passing the other cabana check point where we picked up our free rent-a-lounge chair.

and umbrella.

free.

rent-a.

set up shop right along the water.

and it was frickin beautiful.

the sand is nowhere near as nice or soft as the jersey shore, but there aren't as many birds swooping and pooping. aren't as many screaming kids. and isn't as many cigarette butts in the sand. its a nice lil tradeoff.

laying in the sun is a challenge. particularly for me.

"short, pale, and ugly" is established for a reason; and "pale" has some pretty high precedence in the phrase, incase you haven't noticed.

and all of this refers to a tamer, jersey sun. or a manhattan park. stuff like that. the wild, blazing sun of the miami tropics was not meant to make contact with my skin, and vice versa.

but meet they did. and the sun repeatedly ate its way through my spf 15.

30 sounded too high, and 8 too low. 15 was a nice and happy medium, and really did its best to avoid the "short, red, and ugly" stipulation.

the miami sun, i've found, really just forces a lot of rotation whilst laying down. 15 minutes on the back. 15 minutes on the front. 15 minutes on the back. its like a rotissaire. and you constantly have to get comfortable on the chair and/or sand, wherever you're laying. its not, at all, easy.

and all of which is taking place in a never ending blanket of humidity, unlike anything the earth has seen before.

i tell ya, vacation is a challenge!

after too much sitting, which inevitably leads to too much sweating, y'just gotsta get up. there's only so much beasting my skin can take before it needs a break. air conditioning. a breeze. or water.

ocean it is, then! now here's where the actual beach of miami just kicks the fuck outta any other i've ever been to.

from a distance, the water is this magnificient bluish green color. you can see all the sandbar areas with their lighter colors, and the deeper areas with their respective deeper colors. but as you get up close to the water and actually put you're feet in, the mother fucker is clear!

you can actually see your toes when you look down through the water. and well! in jersey waters, you're lucky if you'll ever see your toes again after dipping them into the sea. but in miami, its a whole different story, and one that surprised me every single time i checked.

but above and beyond all of that, the temperature was unbelievable. 80 degrees, on average. it was like the pool water at vegas. and, in just the same way, the weather is so much fucking hotter in the air and in the sun, that the 80 degree water feels just as warm as it does refreshing.

it is very kick ass.

the conditions were so perfect, that i even got alexis, coward to all, to jump in day after day. and have a good time doing it.

in fact, looking around at any given time, the water was always full, and full of people having a blast. people were just floating up to us and talking, having these great, comfy conversations. and, really, about the most random of things.

one of the more popular conversations, in a deadly ironic fashion, was how everyone looooves "shark week" on discovery channel. we're all laughing and cracking jokes with these puerto rican chicks or jamaican people or whatever, sharing our learned tips on how not to splash if you see a shark. ...meanwhile, i'm sure we're all like 10 feet from them at any given time.

lord knows there were plenty of fish around! (sorry lex. but, yes, at any given time, there were like 4 or 5 lil tiny fish swimming around our feet. i didn't tell you then, cuz i knew you'd bug out and run the fuck outta the ocean. screaming, "it's the devil! it's the devil!" but, uh... i'll tell you before i type this, how's that? )

didn't spot any sharks, like my last florida trip. and didn't spot any random dolphins, like my delaware trips. but, i did learn that the key attack time in the florida region during the month of august was 7-7:30pm. thanks, weird jamaiican guy!

after hour upon hour of baking in the sun and dunking in the drink, we was hungry. i mean hongree. still not really knowing anything about the area, what the fuck, lets work on back to the lincoln road n'shop around for some grub.

one of the things lex and i were both sorta craving was some good ass mexican food. some chips, some salsa, the whole bit. but strolling around the town, and notably through the several-block-long lincoln road avenue, we noticed we were shit outta luck.

every mother fucking restaurant was italian. in miami! "bienvenidos a miami!" instead of tortillas and tequilla, it was just pasta and red wine. and tons of it. everywhere. much of it with actual, off-the-boat italian people workin and eatin there.

we decided upon one place called churrascos, because the menu looked the nicest, and because one of those pushy types clamped on. but, i figured out the trick was not to just say yes or no, but to look hesitant. the more hesitant you look, the more they try to sweeten the offer to get you to stay. so, a 20% off coupon and 2 free glasses of wine later, we're sittin down and placing our orders.

i went the chicken parm route. haven't gotten that in ages, cuz i'm trying to not be so fat, but... whatever. i'm on vacation. and, lemme tell you ...er... me... it was some good ass chicken parm. the pasta, the bread... this place was like straight outta little italy.

with coupons!

a few hours later, we trekked out for s'more alcomihalic beverages. it was still only tuesday, and the crowds were all still kinda low everywhere, so we didn't wanna go to one of our main big places just yet.

for this evening's adventure, we settled on this wee lil bar nearby our hotel. it looked all big n'cool on the outside, but honestly it wasn't all that great on the inside. ...not for me, anyway.

karaoke. drives me fucking insane.

unless i am tanked to the point where enrico is there and i wont remember a fucking thing. otherwise, it fucking kills me. its just fatter, older people singing, horribly. and then two or three ghetto ballers belting out operatic mariah carey tunes.

oh, and its always a fat girl's birthday. and they have to be the first person evar (!!1!) to sing greenday, time of your life!

but, hey, they had jack. they also had coke. so i was happy. and lex loves laughing at the kareoke people and killing the miller lights, so we were both covered for the evening.

wednesday morning, we actually did decide to get up early and go outside for the longest possible tanning duration. seriously. wull, not, like, early early, but we set the alarm for 9. thats fucking early. that put us outside in the 9:30 am range and, goddamn, it was already fucking a million degrees outside, with untouchable humidity.

i always take my camera with me to the beach, cuz it always looks so photographicalish, plus some chick might lose her top or something. or wrestle with another chick. and kiss her. ...er somethin...

anyway. ...the AC in the hotel is so strong, and the humidity outside so opposingly strong, that as soon as you get outside, your glasses, camera, beer bottles... whatever... instantly fog up. and stay fogged up for a good 5-10 minutes.

it pretty much renders the camera useless. even if i didn't immediately realize that, cuz i occasionally just snap pictures without looking through the lens.

take all the pictures you want, phausen. ain't shit gonna come outta them.

we's gots our chairs. umbrella. two rented towels and two brought-from-home yankees towels for pillows and added comfort. 15 spf all over, just waiting to be obliterated by the sun, along with my skin.

there are dozens of other groups already on the beach by the time we get there -- probably all more well prepared, melaninly, than i.

one thing that continued to shock me about miami is the level of diversity in the area. i assume its just the vacationy spots, like i was in, but all the same, its something i've never seen duplicated in all the other places i've been.

every day, we'd find a spot on the beach. and every day, we'd be surrounded by a german couple, an israeli family, italians, puerto ricans, cubans (shh!), dominicans, french, korean, etc. it was crazy. even walking around town, all you hear is the varying languages, or ridiculously thick accents, from any of the given countries.

even walking around manhattan or brooklynn or wherever, i've never really encourtered that, and i always assumed nyc to be the melting pottiest location. sure, there are tons of spanish-speaking individuals, but... dashes of german or finlandia-speak or whatever are damn near untraceable up north. in south beach, tho, it was every where.

quite interesting.

by 1 pm, i was fried. i passed "baked" and "boiled" long ago, and had now dipped into the teeming oils of the lavish sun drenching. the 11 am to 1 pm bathing is especially rough, getting all those peak rays in.

thankfully, florida has this built-in intermission period. at around 1:30, every day, the darkest, scariest clouds you could possibly imagine come rolling in. whether they're from the mainland, the left, the right, or from out over the sea, it doesn't really seem to matter. but with them comes stiff winds, amazing lightning, and some of the heaviest rain possible.

all of which puts on a dazzling show. for like 20 minutes. afterwhich, the sun and heat and still humid air return.

but during that time, it makes for a great escape from the heat. and, typically, a good chance to run and get some grub, which we took advantage of that wednesday, gettin some lunch from the hotel restaurant, "britto." again, complete with the 18% built in tip. fuckers.

from our seats, we were able to see the enormous downpour suddenly crack through the sky, all of the slow-movers still on the beach scatter, then the returning sun and its demon shine.

and dry the whole time, aside from the piles of sweat still free-flowing down my spine.

went back outside after the rain and stuck mostly to the pool area. its louder and more annoying-kid-friendly, but a little more convenient, and without all the muss and fuss of sand in your genitals.

the pool water is just as lovely as the ocean water -- equal parts warm and refreshing. hotel pools rarely have a deep end, and this was no different. its great just standing in 4 feet of water, cuz it keeps you cool, while allowing your upper body to drape over the side of the pool and get s'more color opportunities.

it also affords me the opportunity to stare, with 360 degree shopping possibility, at every girl sunbathing around the pool. butts, boobs, legs... its a chickbuffet, with free admission!

i don't even need my super spy sunglasses for most of it. i think the girls there are so used to the treatment they get in their unashamadly small bikinis, that they don't mind one more lil gremlin staring at them like they were food on a desserted island. delicious, delicious food.

but we weren't gonna stay all day. after a few more hours, dinner was beckoning another return trip to lincoln road, for a whole new adventure with the pushy car salesbroads.

and how.

the stroll to and through the lincoln road mall is always fun. there are tons of girls in eveningish wear, doing what they can to prepare before going out later in the evening. and all putting on a great show for me, of course.

we stopped off at, what we thought, was a spanishy restaurant this time. lex was convinced she remembered a latin joint called "mixx." granted, that turned out to be a shoe store. but it was quasi-nearby to an italian restaurant that had a spanish flair.

close enough.

and, again, scoring the discounted check.

food was not as good as the previous night's but it still had its own personality, and was very reasonably priced, relatively speaking. the portions at almost every miami place so far is ginormous, which i'm always a fan of. i likes the eating.

it erupted with rain during the meal, and we were sitting outside, but... there's this cool, sorta... outdoor ceiling system that many of the lincoln road places subscribe to. its either a linked chain of enormous outdoor umbrellas or an actual crafted ceiling platform that covers a dozen or so outdoor tables.

the rain actually made for a beautiful ambience, as it cooled off the whole setting. plus, great lightning showing through the unusually dark blue sky, and streaming rain pouring down all around without a drop landing on us. very cool.

turns out our hotel was pretty centrally located -- just around the corner from lincoln road and right on the beach. and for the after evening fun, and because the crowds were party-sized-enough wednesday night, we decided to take advantage of our other great proximity spot; ocean drive, the just-around-the-corner club scene for south beach.

this involved my wearing socks, boots, and jeans for the first time in miami. i was not pleased at the thought, knowing how sweaty i already was in the shorts and sandals. but it wasn't as bad as i thought, with the night time temp dropping to a much more manageable 80, and even getting a nice breeze right off the ocean.

on target for the evening was "mangos", the one spot most everyone recommended to us. it received a myriad of billings from the many sources alexis and i share. some reported chicks dancing on tables, others said lapdance-like. all of these were reviews that i both enjoyed and anticipated. and, really, i was not disappointed.

after a brief 6 block walk from our hotel, and passing many a buzzing club and bar, we finally arrived at the destination.

neon lights, long lines, some stray hot chicks smoking cigarettes, and a team of bouncers led us directly to the entrance.

a few quick ID checks, and sneaking in before there was a cover charge, and we were in.

first thing i see whilst walking into the much-hyped mangos: a cute black chick in leopard print booty shorts, hopping up on the bar to wiggle everything she can wiggle.

i like mangos!

there's a live reggae band belting out tunes right next to her, and drum beats all cheering her on. groups of regular folk are mingling on the dance area, bouncin all around. magnificent shot girls patrol the regions lookin for takers. thong-clad waitresses work back and forth across the floor doing all they can to serve drinks quicker. meanwhile, 3 or 4 other leopard-printed beauty bitches start climbing stools to put on a show of their own.

i like mangos!!

lex and i slide our way over to the side, behind the band, in front of the bar, and with a perfect view of the dancing bar area. thats the main attraction and, damnit, i wanna watch the leopard girls dance. josie and the pussycats will now no longer have any meaning to me.

i like mangos!

its time to start killing the jacks n'cokes. lex does the same, miller lite style. i've got my new no-buttoned, gap-enhanced (banana republic) shirt on. we're fucking owning this joint.

the performers are insane. its all the joy of a lapdance, but without the most enjoyable lap-involvement part. and negative as that may be, its still phenomenal to watch and gawk at.

in fact, every girl there is gawkable. all the waitresses and bartenders and dancers are pretty much interchangeable, with all of them taking turns being the faux strippers. hell, some of them are even singing, apparently. couldn't give two shits about that, but if i did, i'd think it was impressive!

the shot girl scans the area all around us, but mostly stays right by our side. she's this crazy porn-star, slutty hot. aka just my favorite kind of hot girl, evar!!1!

better still, when someone actually orders a shot, which is admittedly rarer than rare, its this whole great lil act that she puts on, which involves her boobs, and her half-swallowing the shot test tube, and this weird series of fake kisses, and a whole buncha other kick ass stuff that i much enjoy.

ooh, and seeing another girl go through that process... boy, howdy.

we're there maybe a good three hours or so. drinks are just free flowin in and down, just like i likes'em. girls are floppin and bouncin all over the place, just like i likes'em. more non-employed girls keep crammin through the doors to salsa dance and get drunker and sluttier. ... just like i likes'em.

the time goes by and no one seems to notice, as it just gets louder and fun ...ner...

the drinks are quasi-reasonably priced, as well -- $15 covers a round for both of us. and there were many, many rounds that needed to be covered on this particular wednesday night. which is a great thing.

our seat turns out to be a great one, beacuse we're surrounded by the most, possible cleavage (both boob and butt) -- its everywhere (and they're spectacular!)

but, even this glorious, glorious time must eventually come to an end. as 2 AM passes and 3 approaches, we figure we've had our several hour fill. plus, we're hungry, and wanna try ordering some sammidges from the open-til-6-am sammidge place nearby our hotel... which actually turned out pretty delicious, might i add.

but not as delicious as the mangos.

thursday morning. august 24th. the start of my 28th year on the planet earth. yes'm, my birthday.

for my birthday, i'm sleepin late. vacation late, anyway, which puts you into the 11 am range. needed the few extra after the previous late night. the combination of great bed, great ac, and vampire-dark blinds on the windows makes it so frickin easy to sleep.

afterward, its back to the tropical beach for a few hours, to relax and bathe (and burn) in the sun.

the ocean water, again, just surprises the hell outta you everytime y'step in. its so warm, so clean, so clear... it is just lightyears above and beyond any ocean water i've ever seen. i am sorry, jersey shore, but you are beaten to death by comparison.

for the afternoon thunderstorm lunch, it was back to lincoln road to a diner-like place called cafeteria. it was good, big portions, purdy cheap, and the food was tasty. but... it was no diner.

you win the beach wars, miami, but diners? can't touch back home.

the late afternoon, post rainstorm, brought us back to the pool and hot tub area for more outdoor relaxation, and another chance to gain some brown on these arms o'mine.

the hot tub was a mysterious beast, in that it was never actually hot. there was water in there. there were the bubbles. it had those neato massage jet things on the sides ... but that was it. the water temperature was, at best, a few degrees above the pool, making it mostly useless.

but there were other interesting things around the pool, aside from the multiple boxom hotties, stretching outta their bathing suits and somehow making my suit shrink.

there were these tiny lil lizards shooting around everywhere, that i always happen to see in florida. there were massive coconuts (the actual kind that grow on trees) droppin all about the yard. and there were land-of-the-lost level crickets... or... some sorta bug, that marched around beneath all of the lounge chairs.

it was at least enough to keep me distracted from the fact that my skin was peeling off everywhere. as long as i have something to keep my mind busy, i can almost forget the seething pain.

almost.

for thursday evening, we decided we'd hit the other big recommended spot, wet willies. it was just a few blocks past mangos, which we already found to be a brisk lil walk.

the reason this bar is, essentially, of legendary status, is because of its amazingly powerful drinks. they use 153 grain alcohol in everything, which is amazingly powerful shit. nearly double the 80 proof most every other bar considers the absolute max. thats what my beautiful boy jack daniels gets me.

because of this potent mixture, customers are known to, literally, fall out of their chairs. in many'a'review site that i read, whilst gathering information on the bar, people tell stories about how their friends fell face first in the sand after just one drink.

big ole ghetto ballers, hardcore sorority chicks, and this set of british drinking buddies told a story about falling asleep at the table after their second helping.

hell, their most famous drink is named "call-a-cab" with a disclaimer that this is what needs to be done after the first or second.

this was a challenge i wanted.

this was to be my destiny.

two "call-a-cabs" was the challenge. nay, the milestone marker. and one that needed to be beaten down to a pulp. humbled, even. can't fuck around with this alcohol. i have a reputation.

then, i see the actual menu.

call-a-cab isn't the only big time drink here. there are several, legendary asskickers. ... but one, in particular, calls out to me. the triple play.

the triple play is defined as the bar's most powerful drink - a brutal combination of the "call-a-cab", a "shock treatment", and a "sex on the beach". it is almost glowing to me from the menu. it calls to me, softly. i must have one. my precious.

so we order on. lex goes with the call-a-cab. i go with the superpowered triple play. its game time, and we's desire for drinkin. the slurpee-like concoctions are eventually brought to us without much fanfare. the waiter passes right by a guy literally falling out of his seat on the next table.

this is going to be big.

i have to immediately ditch the straw, for two reasons. 1) it limits the amount i can gulp down at any given time. 2) it aims the frozen beverage directly at the roof of my mouth, which always causes the most intense brain freezes. and i hate those.

so the straw is gone. the food is surprisingly good there, in a quick-and-easy kinda way, but that is useless to me now. there's a drinking title at stake, and i have to win. for the sake of the universe. or something.

and the drinking begins.

3 sips in. 10 sips in. before i know it, the drink is more than half gone. i'm feeling no ill effects as of yet, and my confidence swells.

inevitably, i reach the end of my first drink, which honestly only takes me 6 minutes or so. and, more honestly, it only took that long cuz it was so goddamn cold, contrasting with the amazing heat that still filled the entire joint, which made it even colder.

lex is only half done with hers, when i go back for seconds. now, don't gemme wrong, the "triple play" was strong as fuck. and it was really pretty tasty. but legendary? kick-your-face potent? c'mon. again, i have a rep.

after sitting for a bit to just sorta enjoy the surroundings and eat my sammidge, i explained my dilemna to the bartender. he recommended i go for what is, perhaps, even more powerful -- a local drink, not even listed on the menu. it is a blue and red quais combination of the "call-a-cab" and "aftershock", dubbed "superman" because of its true colors. and, theoretically, because those who finish it without dying are supermen.

bring on the challenge.

this was my second meeting with the 153 grain drink. this is where i should have died, as the stories foretold. this was to be my end.

but mere alcoholic mortal, i am not. the straw was withdrawn once more, just as the gloves were taken off. i was chuggin this sunhumma bitch, hoping to get a bigger rush outta the 153 friends it packed by killing it like so many shots.

natural body defense, my brain freezes, prevented a complete chug, but i was fucking killin this superman.

i was like doomsday!

it wasn't long before the entire drink was gone. even moments before alexis had finished her first call-a-cab drink, i had devoured two. i was manimal. i was booze personified.

i was phausen.

with superman soundly defeated, the world was left without hope. which, really, is true, cuz that meant i was left without alcohol. and who the fuck wants to live in a world where there's no alcohol. not i.

and i wouldn't, damnit! and when the bartender returned, i let that be known!

the "2 drink limit" rule was now met. i felt absolutely fine. even got off the chair and walked around a bit, just to verify my stability. the challenge was over!

or was it?

nay!

i wasn't leavin this place until i was fucked up. i wanted to be part of the stories, part of the legends! i've met your challenge, wet willie, now bring me another drink! the bartender smiled, recommended something, and returned with a fresh, new, superpowered drink - "the purple haze."

this was a combination of "call a cab" and "sex on the beach." whilst serving the drink to me, it was indicated that i could likely die.

no waivers were signed.

meanwhile, alexis doubled up and got herself a margarita / daquirai combo, which ...actually sounds quite unappealing. i think she ended up agreeing with that. but, she did, in fact finish the entire thing after completing a call-a-cab. and, as far as i could tell, she was fine. damn fine, i'd say. but, alcoholicalismishly speaking, she was hanging in there.

as for myself, i was tiring.

not of the alcohol, despite the uberstrong "purple haze" being my third in the "call-a-cab" family. but of the piles upon piles of ... slush.

the cups were pretty decent sized, and the slurpee stuff was pretty concentrated, so it was really like eating three big ole drinks. by the time i was mostly done with the purple haze, it was really startin to kick in how much chopped ice was now in my stomach.

and, noting that, and our 2+ hours there, we decided to just grab the check and start moving out.

...but not before i finished every last grain of alcohol in the third and final cup -- 50% above and beyond the limit that made people legends.

i stood without being dizzy. i walked without a wobble. and i said alloud without a slur "thats right, bitches! you don't know me! i drink punch, mother fuckers!"

punch. jungle juice. my baby dearest and my claim to fame. thats one-hundred and ninety proof. so you can have your little 153 grain. thats cute n'all.

but i needs me a challenge.

we took a long walk home, just to sorta tour the beach area, and walk through a few more of the bars and clubs all over the ocean drive area, which was still all out and about. but that was the bday, in a nutshell.

friday morning? back for more beach! its our final, full day in miami, so the goal is to soak up as much sun rays as possible.

we're out there like 10ish, i'm sweating within 18 seconds, but the game is on to simply fight off the need to run back inside, and instead, like the mother-of-pearl skin coloring i am traditionally stuck with meld into a ... somewhat darker mother-of-pearl.

actually, by this point in the trip, i do have some color. now, its become more of a contest to see how i can continue tanning the parts of me that feel fine, like chest and legs, but cover and hide the parts of me that have flesh burning off, like my shoulders and right beneath my eyes.

and i do a fairly good job. i keep the troubled sections mostly in check. friday turns out to be the most beautiful weather day of the entire trip. its the only day that doesn't do the "35 minutes of rain" thing, and instead, just chooses to be gloriously tropical for the duration of the sunny hours.

go figure.

because of that, we really try to stay outside for the entire afternoon; knowing i'll be back in the office within 40 hours or so is enough of an inspiring thought to maintain my lounge-chair-laying ways.

as the evening hours approach, and we both get sorta hungry, i manage to peel my flesh off of the lounge chair to sit by the water for a few minutes before heading back to the hotel.

for dinner, we wanted to try the only mexicanish restaurant we were able to find in the entire area: tequila chicas, right around the corner, at the start of ocean drive. we had passed it a few times on our way out to clubbier bars, and really just wanted to see what it was like.

certainly tamer than mangos, but still a great fucking place. had this huge selection of tequila brands and margarita flavors, and the food was actually really good. finally, the salasa and chip combo we thought we'd have daily!

its a mix of half indoors, half outdoors, with tons of chairs and stools and loungey seats, even couches, everywhere. there's cool aztecy themed shit all over the place, and a cool frickin huge fishtank with baby sharks and such.

but thats not the best part!

great food. huge booze selection. some of the best frozen margaritas i've ever had. close and hangouty. oh, and one of the bartendresses was hot. thats all some good shit. but no no, the absolute best part of this bar was the pole.

the stripper pole.

for awhile, they're playin all these clubby house songs, maybe throw some hip hop in there, whatever. but before too long, it was the standard 80s, hairbandy power music blasting through the wall-sized speakers.

hard core, girl-on-girl dancing action songs that absolutely never fail to turn every girl, from sorority to goth to nerd, into a stripper..

i'm talkin songs like "pour some sugar on me", anything "bon jovi" or "guns n'roses". ...coincidentally, all of alexis' favorite tunes.



anywho, as soon as "step inside, walk this way..." hits, the entire bar changes from cool loungey place, to aweshomely dirty, raunchy strip club. and its so much fucking better the latter way.

everyone starts clapping and cheering and we adjust our seats to figure out why. over on the side, there's this amazingly looking girl, just spinning and licking this stripper pole. i thought for sure she was hired help or one of the employees or whatever, only to find out later she was just an aroused customer.

miami!


so fucking hot. and here i am, just a few feet away, downing my third mango margarita, enjoying the whole show. she had her whole ass out and had these lil nipple things on, barely clinging to the dress... it ruled. great f'n place.

saturday was the sad flight home day -- always the most miserable day of a trip. we had a few hours where we just sorta lounged by the pool, before having to go to the airport, but it wasn't really "enjoy yourself" time. just sorta sittin around, upset that soon, it'd be non-tropical.

and holy shit, was it non-tropical.

miami was 88 degrees, beautiful blue skies, palm trees and abundantly filled bikini tops everywhere you looked on our way to the airport.

a decent 3-hour plane ride back to newark, put us smack dab in the middle of a 68 degree evening, complete with gray, cloudy skies, chilly drizzling rain, and pissed off fat people everywhere you looked.

its fucking august still, and it somehow is lower than 70 out. nausiating.

there is always some good parts about coming home, tho. like, i wont have to spend $80 just to eat a salad, or whatever. thats a huge plus. and its always sorta fun to not feel like you have to constantly take advantage of vacation time. like, instead of feeling semi-pressured to get outside early to grab the best spot on the beach... its just relaxing to sleep until 2 in the afternoon, then loaf around in boxers all day.

though those palm trees n'bikinis sure were nice t'look at...

i was also definitely starting to put on weight towards the end of the trip. something about eating out 3 meals a day for 6 days in a row that really packs on the pounds. what with all the fries and cheese on everything. then hours upon hours of, literally, laying down inbetween every meal.

whodda thunk.

so, by monday, i was definitely ready to return to the gym. and it ended up being a good work out. like 90 minutes worth of kicking my own ass back into shape. and, actually, i wasn't as out-of-shape as i anticipated.

my body fat percentage was up, but not my weight (not bad, anyway). and i was still able to do well, lifting wise -- even set a few personal bests.

granted, now, i'm on the second day of "post workout" so every fucking time i move or stand up or cough just sorta rips my chest in half. i can't even straighten out my arms. its that kind of pathetic.

and i have an additional work out tomorrow to look forward to!

...yaay...

just got back from a wednesday night yankee game.

went there straight from work, took the F to the B train. met my whole family there, even my mom, for a father's day celebration just a few months late.

and they fuckin blew it!

and they did so well, otherwise, too. jeter hit well, assface jared wright actually pitched well. but they were still 1 strike away. 1 strike! and faux-mariano gave up a game-losing, two-out, last-ditch home run to wreck everything. stupid ass mongerors.

that shitball aside, it was a fun game. sat with my pop. pushed around some annoying tool to my left, and his fat wife.

killed a few beers, which i just found out they no longer serve in the bleachers. thats why randy and i didn't get any when we went to the game last week. woulda been nice to get some notice or something!

but thankfully, we was upperdeckin it this time around, and there were many, many beerpeople, just waiting to bring their $8 cans of beer on over.

twice.

so, for my office birthday, resident webroom mother jonathan made me some cookie pies! i don't really know what else to call them. cookie cakes? they're these big ass ...uh... cookies in pie form. like all deep like a pie would be, too.

they're friggin great. and he special-request made them exactly how i like'em; nearly raw, shaped cookie dough.

he brought'em to thanksmas 5, and they went over huge, so it was already established how much i likes'em. but this time, there wasn't 22 other people to help me eat them. it was just phausen. with maybe some help from a collection of other surrounding nerds and geeks.

and i ... ate so much fucking cookie pie. my stomach asploded.

its that same "i can't believe i ate so much raw butter" feeling you get in your stomach after eating two or three spoonfuls of actual raw cookie dough, when you make cookies. except... you know... in pie form, as said.

never again.

...until thanksmas 6...

more gym for me tonight. yay. thats ok, i could definitely use it. need to start droppin more belly. i think, once this summer starts to really come to a close, and i can stop going out for dinner n'drinks every fucking night, i'll be in much better shape.

no major plans yet for this weekend, i don't think. nothing that i know about, anyway.

i have monday off, and a half day tomorrow, but alexis has her girl food night tomorrow night.

they all get together and each make some sorta huge food dish, then sit around and drink and eat it and have fun. its basically like every other night that exists, except i'm not allowed to go, for some odd reason that invovles not having a vagina.

i actually find it somewhat offensive that the only party or gathering in our group not planned by me specifically excludes me. and, really, only me.

no one else seems to take issue with that, though.

interesting.

just got lex's copies of the miami pics.


who likes booze??