It’s Saturday, so tonight I’ll tip a glass of bourbon and light up a Padron Cigar (thanks CraigMack) in honor of my crew rollin’ on the other side.
I’m fucking with you. I have no crew but if I did I would totally listen to this song while reminiscing.
The bourbon and cigar are true, so it’s time to get busy people.
If T.I. and J.T. aren’t your thang then let me introduce you to the musical styling of the Little River Band. Go ahead and reminisce my friends, but don’t forget to tip your cocktail and salute your fallen homies.
My buddy Poopy just got a new puppy. I know, that sounds hilarious, but both his nickname and the new puppy are true. I might as well explain the nickname Poopy because I know you can’t get past it right now. Long story short, his friend sharted himself with a bunch of women around, it smelled real bad and so he blamed Poopy. There you go and yes I know it’s awesome.
A while back I wanted a bulldog in a bad way, but they cost about 2 million dollars, give or take a few million and I didn’t have any cash to spend. My friend tells me about this lady in a dipshit town about 50 miles from my house that has a bulldog and she can’t keep it anymore. Apparently the woman who owned the bulldog told my friend the dog was a champion and it was a mashup of Wonderdog, Scooby-Doo, Lassie, Benjie and Rin Tin Tin, but she was giving it away for ‘FREE’.
I drive down there and pull up to this piece of crap house and right away I knew I was fucked. I just drove 50 miles, I’m in the middle of nowhere, so I figure just a quick peek can’t hurt. The woman lets me in and my first impression of this vile abode is fully realized by all the trash, old food, crying kids with droopy diapers and every other possible cliche of a dirtbag Jerry Springer house.
The woman says to me ‘C’mon in and take a look at Champ for yourself’ and she leads me into the farthest back room in the house. I look around and there is no fucking dog to be found. She turns to me and opens a door, which as far as I could tell led to a septic tank and out from the darkness waddles Champ the bulldog.
This bulldog was by far the most bizarre, scary, horrifying, mutant, Frankenstein, Sloth from the Goonies looking bulldog you could imagine. It had one working eye and the other was glazed over with some funky think white goop, it was breathing like it had been smoking unfiltered Camels for the past fifty years, it had chunks of fur missing and it walked sideways.
I literally screamed out loud when this dog came into view and it wasn’t just a little whimper either, but rather a fully audible ‘Ahhh’. I looked back at her, then looked back at Champ and bolted for the front door. When I got into my car I called my friend on the phone and told him thanks for the hot tip on Cujo, but I was taking a pass.
There is no moral to this story, just a sad lesson of how a good deed, me trying to rescue a dog, turned into a stomach churning disaster.
My buddy ‘Bigfoot’ enjoys a bourbon and a cigar on the weekend and while I’m not into bourbon, I am loving a good smoke. Bigfoot and I kicked back the other night and lit up a couple of Hoyo de Monterrey Dark Sumatra’s and enjoyed the hell out of them.
The presentation of the cigar is visually appealing, with a cedar liner covering part of the nice dark sumatra wrapper, you get the feeling some care went into these. These are not cheap cigars, but if you want to show someone you don’t screw around, you can’t go wrong with these. The Hoyo de Monterrey Dark Sumatra is a great cigar, easy draw, nice ash and a smooth consistency that stays with you through the very end.
It’s hard to beat a good drink and a nice cigar when you want to settle down on the weekend for some relaxation time (unless you’re getting a rub-and-tug at the local massage establishment). Give the Hoyo de Monterrey Dark Sumatra’s a try, then come back and drop me a comment. You’ve been Sivelized.
My friend LaRose and I used to play Take Two’s classic football game ‘ESPN NFL 2K5′ on Xbox Live and it was great. Those days are long since past as I moved onto Xbox 360 waiting for him to join the revolution, but alas it isn’t happening.
You see LaRose made a horrendous lapse in judgement and brought his whole family to the electronics store and purchased a Wii. Yes I know, a Wii. Now before all you Wii fans start snorting loudly with mucus oozing from your nostrils, I don’t like any game system where the random throttling of your arm can result in victory because there is no way on earth some 5 year old girl can beat me in any game, period!
What does this all mean? No Madden 09, no Xbox Live clash of the titans and no sympathy for LaRose when he realizes what ‘To much family time’ really means.
