A Little Something for the Fans

I get drunk, really fast. Enjoy this video. I'm unattractive and turn into a chauvinistic asshole.

Zombie Outbreak: Operation Failure

    Thanks to video games and movies, I come from a generation that is just itching for a simple zombie outbreak to spread worldwide(myself included). Everyone thinks they'd survive, it'd be a great way to just reset the world, and everyone has considered population control at some point (Ever been to the DMV?).

    So I've been very ill these last couple of days and yesterday was no exception. I could hardly move or breathe for that matter. When I woke up, I had to pee really bad. I tried to open my eyes and sit up for a moment, but it wasn't working out for me. Somehow, my vision was shot. Everything was sepia toned and blurry, like a dramatic lifetime movie where my dad dies in a fire. Everything was quiet, any sound that was made was delayed and muffled.

    I stumbled across the room and managed to get up the stairs. This is when my mind went kind of nuts. Something felt very wrong. Zombies. That was my thought process. Something. Bad. Zombies.

    Oh well, after I used the bathroom and went back to sleep, I realized it wasn't my brightest moment. Fortunately, I feel much better today. Quickly doing some laundry so I can wash away the sickness I sweated out. I know, I know, there's nothing sexier than a sweaty man. Ladies, contain yourselves.

    Thought that was a nice little story you guys could enjoy. Still trying to keep up the awesomeness of my blog. Open to suggestions about things to talk about. I will have it be known that I don't much care for pop culture AKA Bieber's Haircut.

~Joe GenoCyDe

It Could Be Worse: A Heroin Story

    As I've already said before in my most recent post, I have a been sick. Then, shortly after my near death (Exaggeration) sickness, I spend 10 hours sweeping. Think about that for a moment. I spent 6 hours sweeping without stopping, then lunch, than 3 and a half more hours consisting of more sweeping. It's sounds easy, but upload a video of you doing it, and then smile for the camera as you cross that "oh-so-easy" finish line.

    Anyway, I'm getting paid for that. So that's something. The basement is no longer flooded, but in it's final moments, the flood made sure to leave it's legacy behind. The carpet reeks of freshly slain feces. I think the lingering smell of waste and death give the room some character. I'm tempted to name the stench. (SN: I forgot it was Saturday.) I'll name it Terry.

    Also, first comment, awesome personal achievement! (Thank You, Quincy)

    Since we're all caught up, I'll type up the story of a lifetime. The same weekend we almost got shanked and left for dead HERE, I had a run-in with some pretty interesting dudes. Caution, I feel as though I might not look so brave in the moments I am going to describe to you, but damn it, I tried.

    It was a peaceful drunken Saturday at my Uncle's motel room (In his defense, it's a roomy motel, almost hotel-ly). I had cigarettes, but no lighter. In my drunken state, I was hitting on the women at the front desk. She wasn't attractive in the traditional sense, but my beer goggles would argue that it was "good enough". After my failed attempt to woo the older woman, police entered the lobby and I quickly walked away.

    I bumped into some regular looking guys, one of them was very short and friendly, the other was tall, quiet and apparently as drunk as I was. I asked them for a lighter and they emptied out their pockets. No dice. They invited me up to their room where they assured me they had a lighter. I followed them across the entire motel and they led me into the room. It was a regular room, just like my Uncle's and they had the tv going.

    I was handed a lighter and I cracked open the window. I thanked them and got to know them. They told me they had a friend in the shower, who was also living with them. The shorter guy, Alec, started talking to me about his situation (He lives in a motel, of course there's an explanation). He told me his girlfriend got pregnant with someone else's baby, that his mother sent him to rehab for smoking pot, he talked about moving to harder drugs and eventually being admitted into a hospital.

    I want you to understand that the guy I was speaking to didn't look a day over 20. He looked young, youthful and full of energy. He was funny and down to earth. So naturally, I think he's full of shit. I don't believe a word he says. I laughed it off and they offered me some of their cheap plastic fifth of whiskey. Of course, I take a few shots. I was completely fine, until I noticed the tall guy, J-something, start spacing out while watching Superbad. I started feeling a little uncomfortable.

    That's when it happens, the bathroom door opened and this tall, strung out, eminem looking dude walked out half naked. He threw a shirt on and introduced himself. I don't remember his name, I just remember feeling fear. This is it, they spilled all their secrets, they're not gonna let me leave. I'm dead. I composed myself the best I could and continued talking to them. All the while, Alec kept talking about how he got clean and his plans for the future and Eminem started looking at the ceiling and stretching like he was ready for liftoff. I managed to ask, "Are you cool, man?"

    "Heroin, man. Heroin."

    Pardon my french, but I damn near shit myself. Between his soul-cleansing shower and meeting me, this guy shot himself up with heroin. Not very many normal people can say that everyday. So, Alec is talking about 'bitches, and how they suck', Spacehead is intrigued by Superbad and Captain Heroin is getting ready to enter Tron. Things are not looking good for me. All I need is a way out. There was a knock at the door and I was completely swallowed by darkness.

    It was pitch black, the junkies had shut off the lights in panic (You thought it was something more epic, didn't you?). All I could hear were these idiots talking about how the police were in the lobby and fighting over who needs to answer the door. At that point in time, I'm either going to jail for associating myself with these junkies or dying. Of course, they managed to get Captain Heroin to answer the door, great logic. I could hear him talking, but I couldn't hear who he was talking to. I heard him say, "Who? No, he's not here," and damn near ran to the door.

    The lady at the front desk was kind enough to let my uncle know some junkies lead me away and were ready to rape me (Not really). But alas, I was rescued. I went back to my uncles room and had myself some beer before passing out. Good times.

Scariest moment of your life? Do tell.

~JoeGenoCyDe

Night of the Living Deadbeats

    Two nights ago, we went out to a very interesting party. It was a multi birthday keggar. We were one of the first ones there and I had a rough time starting a conversation with the antisocial "out-of-towners" (They were from the next town over, that's hardly classified as being from out of town). And the party started pretty lame. We wish the party would have just been lame.

    All of a sudden, waves of people started showing up. Not nice, inviting people, God no, we wish they would have at least been civil. Basically, it was the kind of party that drug dealers go to. I don't have a problem with their lifestyle, but when you're in a house filled wall-to-wall with them, you find Jesus (I also found a handful of "Snooki"s and a Bubba Sparks).

    After repenting for my sins, I decided I needed to play it cool. I soon discovered that head nodding was an international greeting in these social settings. I got hundreds of "What's good"s "Sup, Fam"s and "Hey, dude"s. I was doing good. I got confident enough to make jokes at some points, things were going well for me. I was still very uncomfortable, but I wasn't afraid of possible death (as much).

    All of a sudden everyone was being shushed. The police had just knocked on the door. In the confusion people started losing their minds. People were panicking about the idea of going to jail, people started climbing out windows, and some of them just started smoking weed. Things were quiet down in the basement until a fight broke out. That's when people started rushing up the stairs.

    When I finally got upstairs, I found Darco. He was very unhappy with our current situation and we talked about leaving once the cops were gone. It turned out they were only there to tell people to move their cars from traffic (apparently parallel parking is too hard to do). That's when another fight broke out. People went nuts, there was screaming, yelling, crying, it was insane. We finally got out of the house and we realized Darco left his coat. We went back and grabbed his coat, than took off.

    We didn't get as drunk as we thought, but it was probably for the better. We went home and went to sleep.

~JoeGenoCyDe