Zihuatanejo

"You remember the name of the town, don't you?"

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Location: Phoenix, Arizona

Monday, February 27, 2006

Next Time Get a Reservation

The great thing about international travel is that you get a chance to experience different cultures. You take time to learn about the local people and their customs. Everything is different. The food is different. The architecture is different. The age of consent is different. The important thing is that while we may be speaking different languages and I may be a foot and a half taller than anyone in your country we all agree on one thing; It takes skin to win. It is with this spirit of discovery that I want to share with you what I learned on my trip to the tiny hamlet of Ensenada, Mexico.

The road from Tijuana to Ensenada is a windy two lane adventure. When the driver, who's got one hand on the wheel and one on his Bud heavy tall boy, slams the parking break, pulls a 180 into the parking lot sending a shower of gravel 30 ft in all directions, and exclaims, "I can't believe we made it here alive!?" it kinda sets the tone for the weekend.

I discovered that Mexican hotel reservation systems SUCK ASS!

Four guys rolling down the main drag with the windows of their Camry rolled down blaring Bananarama's "Cruel Summer" is gay in any culture. Niiiicce.

I learned that Spicoli included Bananarama, "Forever Young", and Michael Jackson (not once but TWICE) on his ipod play list and didn't find anything wrong with this.

I learned that Modelo Especial is a perfectly acceptable breakfast drink.

I discovered that if a drunk American chick throws Mardi Gras beads at you and you laugh at her and walk away ignoring the beads as they lie on the ground she will drive to the end of the street, double back, and heave a 3/4 full can of Dr. Pepper at your head.

I learned that a complimentary bottle of tequila is 90% water.

I learned that old Mexican men like US pop culture.
explanation: An elderly local gentleman helped us find an ATM machine. He then remarked on the sight of Boo, who is short, and I standing next to each other with this beauty, "Ha! Like Twins. Es Schwarzenegger y Devito. Ha!" I countered with The Karate Kid, "Hey, you don't come into my dojo, drop a challenge, and leave old man!" He laughed, called me "Gordo" and disappeared into the crowd.

Boobs for Beads is an American phenomenon. Only the white women were down with this.

I learned that when you meet a girl in a bar and she starts the conversation with, "Hi. I'm Random." the heavy lifting is done. At this point you're just playing the waiting game. Even I couldn't screw this one up.

I learned that when you're riding a 72 hour beer buzz the phrase, "That is one big mother fucking flag!" never gets old.
I was surprised to learn that no one parties harder than the 50 something cruise ship patrons "straight off the boat from Minnesota".

As it turns out a hot dog wrapped in bacon with mayo, grilled onions, and diced tomatoes is the best drunk food that 10 pesos can buy.

When your translator explains, "He wants to know if you want to go home with him." and the girl responds, "No." you just wasted an hour speaking english to a native Mexican.

I learned that I can withstand (only) 55 volts of electricity.

Apparently "steak, eggs, and dick" is not on the menu at La Portuga Restaruante'.

I learned that when a Mexican street vendor yells out, “You wanna look at my junk!” it doesn’t mean what it does in the states.

I learned that drinking a 64 oz. rum and coke, 62 ounces of which consist of rum, can lead to the dreaded phrase, “What’s the matter? Are you crying?”

I discovered that PZ gets ashy and has to “moisturizer up” before he goes out.

I found that if you repeatedly dismiss stacks of 50 peso notes as "monopoly money" you will regret it later.

I learned that at Anthony’s $20 goes to the house.

I learned that one should not wear a Mexican wrestling mask while attempting to cross the border in Tijuana. Border Patrol has no sense of humor.

La Fonda has the best all you can eat buffet EVER. They have all you can drink bloody Marys people!

I learned that no matter how many bars you hit, tequilas you shoot, or randoms you hook up with nothing beats a sunny afternoon chillin’ on the deck with your boys and a beer watching the dolphins swim and the tide roll in. Best part of the trip; hands down.

Finally, I learned that if you find yourself in the middle of telling a story and you realize that it’s kinda pointless, and you’re not really sure where you were going with it in the first place it is perfectly acceptable to abruptly end it with, “and Airwolf had to come in and take him out.”

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Viva' la Mexico!

I will be taking off this evening for Ensenada, Mexico to attend Carnaval! I am told that its a poor man’s version of New Orleans’ Mardi Gras celebration. I have always wanted to go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but obviously it will be awhile before The Big Easy is back to its old debaucherous self and I’m dangerously close to being too old to do it right.

I’m going with PZ, Spicoli, and a friend of Spicoli’s I’ll call Boo. Boo lives in Whales Vagina, CA. We’re flying to Diego, meeting Boo, and driving the 90 minutes to Ensenada. Hilarity will ensue. It should be fantastico! I’m expecting a lot of chicas, Sol beer, tequila, chicas, and dog tacos.



I purchased a digital voice recorder so that I could have a record of what is said and done when alcohol would otherwise not permit total recall. I have been lectured at length about “the rules of the road” and “don’t do me like you did Whatta”. I will state here and now that this is for dictation purposes only. I have no desire to publish any damning material on anyone but myself. I’m not taping anyone without their knowledge and I’ll clear any posts with known participants. That having been said, it should make for some fun posts (when I return on Sunday evening).

So, I’m off to “a warm place with no memory”.


Tuesday, February 21, 2006

A Quick Trip to the Dark Side

I have a history of getting smashed at weddings. I'm 29 years old so; I've been to roughly two dozen weddings in the last five years. I love wedding receptions. I get dressed to the nines, there's good food, and if you're lucky free booze. How can you beat that?

The last wedding I attended I behaved myself. I was too hung over from the day before to drink and I was seated at a table with two of my bosses. Saturday was Blondie's wedding and I was again seated at a table with my boss. This time however, I got wrecked. Blondie had an open bar from start to finish and openly encouraged me to cut loose. Her exact words were, "I want you to end up making out with somebody on the golf course." So, it was on.

Here is what (as best I can recall) I drank:
Unknown # of Bud Lights
1 glass of Cutty Sark Scotch
1 glass Champagne
2 glasses of Chardonnay

I'm pretty sure I made it through without doing anything that embarrassed anyone else or otherwise ruined the evening. I wasn't disrespectful to the parents, I didn't tell my boss that my job is what drove me to drink, and I didn't hook up with any of my coworkers.

What I did do is dance. I am generally able to resist the urge when I am sober, but when I get drunk at wedding receptions I cut foot loose like Kevin Bacon fighting small town oppression. Once, at my college roommate's wedding, I actually slid across the floor on my knees and yelled "Let's Dance!" People tape these things. There's proof. So, I danced with all of my female coworkers, I danced with a couple bridesmaids, and I asked one unknown girl to dance just because she was attractive.

editor's note: The boyfriend of the attractive girl arrived at the table and seemed a little agitated but hey, I didn't know. No harm. No foul.

At one point I left the dance floor and discovered that not only did everyone at my table apparently leave, but the reception hall was mostly empty. There wasn't anybody to say goodnight to so I staggered out the door. I walked a couple blocks in the wrong direction before finally arriving in the parking garage across the street from the lot in which I was parked. I vomited, crawled underneath a stairwell, and passed out. I awoke a time later lying on the ground in my suit shivering in the 35 degree weather. I walked across the street to my truck but I knew I couldn't drive. So, I folded down the back seat and slept in the back of the Expedition. I woke up about 3:30am and drove home.

So there you have it. I am that guy.

ps. Skins, if you are reading this and considering asking me to be your best man, I wait until after the toast to start drinking.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

It ain't always good to be the King.

One of the young ladies in my office complained to another about her boyfriend’s poor showing on Valentine’s Day. The young man’s transgression was so egregious that the friend could not help but recount the tale in horror to another employee and that employee in turn told another and... well, you know how this works.
The end result is that there are now no less than a dozen people openly campaigning for this guy to be dismissed from his boyfriend duties and denied any and all benefits.

For the record, I am one of the people calling for his dismissal. On some level I feel sorry for the guy. All these people that he has never met are telling his girlfriend, in no uncertain terms, that she should kick his sorry ass to the curb. He most likely has no idea that this is happening. By all accounts he is a “great guy” and “nice” and “sweet”. As soon as I heard him described this way I knew he had no chance, but that’s a whole post in itself. The idea that he may actually be in love with my colleague and have no idea that his relationship is essentially over is disturbing to me as is the delight that some people have in publicly mocking the situation. It must be embarrassing for her to hear everybody commenting on her love life.

The less compassionate side of me thinks that if you take your woman to “The BK Lounge” on Valentine’s Day you deserve the worst that life has to offer. This guy took his girlfriend to Burger King on Valentines Day. After his request to dine in the restaurant was rebuffed he had the stones to ask for $5 because he was short of funds until pay Friday. Stick a spork in him. He’s done.

Upon hearing this horrific tale one of the girls in the office bought the victim a bouquet of flowers out of pity. One insensitive prick (me) repeatedly referred to the boyfriend as “The King” and suggested that she make her boyfriend wear a cardboard Burger King crown in public.

So, take this as a cautionary tale guys. My Valentine’s Day post was right on the money. If you screw up Valentine’s Day she will tell other people how you screwed up. Those people don’t care what you did or didn’t do the other 364 days of the year. They will destroy you and you’ll never even know its happening.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Valentine's Day

As I have mentioned before I have a lot of friends who are married or engaged. It is not uncommon to hear some of these guys complain about Valentine’s Day. They bemoan the fact that it’s over-commercialized. They theorize that it’s a giant scam concocted by the flower, chocolate, and stuffed animal cartels to move more merchandise. They explain, “I love ____ all year long. I shouldn’t have to spend a bunch of money on February 14th just because those fuckers at FTD need to meet their quotas!”

I can’t honestly say that their arguments are completely without merit. It is over-commercialized. Those little candies with the two word messages taste like shit. My personal favorites are the commercials by the diamond folk that are openly insulting to men. They perpetuate the men as big dumb animals stereotype. I sometimes wish they would just remove the thin veil and put out this ad:

Sultry woman’s voice: “Hey guys, you’ve been a massive disappointment to your woman all year long. It’s a wonder she’s still with you. So, this Valentine’s Day stop being such a cheap bastard. Buy her a diamond tennis bracelet from Jared.”

All that having been said, do it anyway. Quit the complaining and do it right. No matter what you think; you don’t tell her enough. Valentine’s Day is about letting your beloved know how much she means to you. Let her know she is appreciated. A personal touch is best. It lets her know that you were paying attention when she assumed you were not. So, cook her favorite meal, or plan a trip, or rub her feet, whatever. The important thing is to stop concentrating on the negative aspects of Valentine’s Day and put the focus where it belongs. On her.

Monday, February 13, 2006

2 days of straight suck

Today is my birthday. I'm 29 years old. I'm not happy about it.

I stopped enjoying birthdays after my 25th. I recall the realization on my 26th birthday that in the same amount of time that it took me to finish college I would be thirty. When looking back the college years seem to have flown by in a blur. I knew that the next 4 years would be no different and I began to wonder where I would be and how I would feel about my life. Well, in one year from now I will be thirty years old. The idea that a year from now I could be sitting in this cube typing a blog post to keep from putting my headset on makes me sick to my stomach. The thought of living, alone, in a one bedroom apartment at thirty years old causes me to expel a deep sigh. The worst part of it is I have no plan. No direction. Sometimes I think I have no plan because without a goal I cannot fail. I don't know. I try not to get too Freudian.

Admittedly, my melancholy mood is exacerbated by the fact that my birthday is immediately followed by Valentines Day. I've said on more than one occasion that this should be 48 straight hours of lovin' for me, but with two exceptions, it never is. So, tonight I will sit in front of the TV with my buddy Johnny Walker and think about what I need to do so that I don't feel this way next year.

Saturday, February 11, 2006

My heroes have always been cowboys

I saw Willie Nelson perform at The Dodge Theatre in Downtown Phoenix last night. My Mom got me two tickets for my birthday. I haven’t yet met the woman that thinks that spending a Friday evening with me listening to a 73 year old country crooner sounds like a good time, so I took my buddy Billy. The Billy digs Willie as well, although I gather it’s from a slightly different perspective. When I asked him if he wanted to go he responded, “Hell yeah! Willie’s the original pot head.”

The Billy and I left work and went straight downtown to Seamus McCaffrey Irish Pub for some Guinness and grub. Cool place. Good french dip. Sufficiently buzzed we walked the few blocks to the Theatre arriving about 20 minutes before show time.

This was my first trip to
The Dodge Theatre. It’s a great medium sized venue. It seats 5,000 for concerts. The seats were comfortable, there’s no obstructed views, and the acoustics are great. Mom got me some good seats too; lower level stage left. The lines were minimal at the restrooms and concessions. I paid $7 for a 24oz. Bud Light; industry standard.

I was intrigued by the crowd. Willie plays to a mixed audience. I saw men and women. I saw young and old. I saw cowboys and burn outs. I even saw one old burned out cowboy. Everybody stood and clapped at appropriate times and sang along when Willie encouraged it. It had an intimate feel. With Willie it’s not a show, it’s a performance. It’s just him and his band. There’s no pyrotechnics and minimal lighting effects. You can’t escape the thought that what you would really like to be doing is sitting across a campfire from him takin’ a tug on the ole’ whiskey bottle while he picks his six string and tells stories from the road.
Willie looks like your grandpa. You just want to hug the old guy. He took the stage (nearly 10 minutes after being introduced) in a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, a cowboy hat, and sneakers. He later donned the trademark bandana and periodically tossed them into the crowd; never clearing the first row.

He sounds great. I have to admit I was a little worried about this. The guy is 73 years old and has smoked enough grass to landscape the pacific northwest. His vocal cadence varied from his recordings on a few occasions but his voice was as sweet and clear as moonlight through the pines. He sounded just as good as he did coming from the speakers of my father’s old 1980 Ford pickup when I was a kid. He performed for a little over two hours singing all my favorites: Blue Eyes Crying in The Rain, Georgia On My Mind, Mammas Don’t let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys, My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys, Pancho and Lefty, On The Road Again, etc…

It was an all around great evening. I can now cross Willie Nelson off my list of people I would like to see perform live. And should I ever meet that special woman that combines stunning good looks with a love of baseball, sophomoric comedy, and old school country music I would go see Willie again.


Friday, February 10, 2006

Seven it is not.

At the incessant urging of a coworker I watched the movie Saw. “You’ll love it!” he said. “It’s just like Seven.” He assured me. I think Seven is a great movie; liked everything about it. It’s one of the reasons I can’t write off Brad Pitt as just another pretty face du’jour. He actually makes some good movies (ie. A River Runs Through It and Fight Club).

Saw is what Seven would have been if it didn’t have Pitt, Morgan Freeman, Kevin Spacey, and Gwenyth Paltrow in the cast.

The plot was solid although familiar. A mysterious serial killer, The Jigsaw, devises elaborate torturous scenarios to teach his victims the value of life by forcing them to choose between hurting themselves or others to stay alive.

The torture scenarios were clever. In one particularly gruesome scene The Jigsaw’s sole surviving victim is forced to impale a live man with a scalpel to retrieve a key. The key unlocks the iron-jawed face mask that she was forced to wear. If triggered, the jaws will snap open causing her head to explode like an over ripe melon.

The locations and music were sufficiently eerie to contribute to the overall sinister tone of the film. The special effects offered standard slasher film gore with one notable exception. At the movie’s climax one of the victims chooses to saw his foot off at the ankle just above the shackle that chains him to the wall. We see him vigorously sawing, screaming, and writhing, but the point of contact between leg and saw is just off camera. We never see the saw contact skin nor do we get a glimpse of the resulting bloody stump. There is a decomposing foot on the DVD cover. The name of the freaking movie is Saw! How can you not include the foot in the actual movie!?! At least give me some blood splatter when he opens an artery. Something.

What kept this movie from being really good were the sub-par acting performances turned in by several of the cast members. Cary Elwes, of The Princess Bride fame, was simply awful as Dr. Lawrence Gordon. He just doesn’t seem to portray fear well. His demeanor doesn’t match the situation until he starts sawing his foot off at the end of the film. Its like everybody else is in mortal fear and he’s doing “The Claw” schtick from Liar Liar. While we’re at it as long as Danny Glover wasn’t taking this project seriously couldn’t they drop in a quick, “I’m getting too old for this” for all the Murtaugh fans out there. Is that too much to ask? Finally, Michael Emerson executes the worst limp ever captured on film as the mortally wounded Zep Hindle.

When it was all said and done I couldn’t help but think that James Wan and Leigh Whanell wrote a good script they were just done in by poor casting. It’s a shame because this movie had real potential.

On a scale of 1 to 10 I give it a 6.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Excessive Linkage

Ok. So, apparently not everybody is familiar with Summer Sanders. She is an Olympic Gold Medal winning swimmer who is now the host of Fox's "The Sports List" show (this is why the subject line "You're #1 on my list" is funny). To clarify; I do not know Summer Sanders. The email is actually from someone I know. She threatened me if I told anyone so naturally I thought, "I'll post it on the internet."
Summer is, however, on my my top 10 list of smoking hot women who don't get enough credit for being smoking hot. So, because having the hots for Pam Anderson shows a lack of imagination, Here is my list...
  1. Summer Sanders
  2. Emmanuelle Chiriqui
  3. Nicole de Boer
  4. Carey Lowell
  5. Salley Field (circa 1977)
  6. Marisa Tomei
  7. Brittany Daniel
  8. Selma Blair
  9. Cyndi Thomson (retired in her prime. The Barry Sanders of this list)
  10. Filan Monet

The last one is obviously a bit gratuitous, but hey, she is a very attractive woman and it seems like she could use a pick me up. For those of you that know me you may notice two notable omissions from this list. Well, Katie Holmes has either lost her mind or is Tom Cruise's beard. Either way she's out. Minnie Driver has not held up over time; Good Will Hunting - Hot. Guest appearance on Will and Grace- Heinus. It's a shame. I also had Elisha Cuthbert on this list but she probably gets enough credit for being hot so she got bumped.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Reader email (pic attached)

The following is an actual email from one of my readers. It is posted here unedited, as far as you know.

From: Withheld
Sent: Monday, January 30, 2006 1:39 PM
To: Pudge
Subject: You're #1 on my list!

Pudge... oh my god... I have TEARS rolling down my face! (Withheld) sent me your blog site... I have been sitting here, laughing my arse off for the past half hour reading your rendition of the toilet incident.
Seriously Pudge - and if you ever tell anyone I complimented you about ANYTHING, I will vehemently deny it and punish you in the eternal afterlife - but you really have a talent for writing! I cannot stop laughing! Whatever you do in the future, try to find something that uses your sarcastic wit. It would be an absolute shame for you to waste this...
Ok - I'm done being girlie and giving you kudos. Remember - SEVERE punishment if you tell anyone....

- S.

PS. Here is a pic from the shoot last weekend. can't wait to see you.


Thursday, February 02, 2006

This is how I roll

I had phone discussions with both PZ and Whatta about the previous post. They would have preferred that I not post it. I was leaning towards not including it because I do consider Whatta a good friend and I didn't want him to get bent out of shape. Then I was driving back from lunch rockin' out to AC/DC and ZZ Top and I thought, "Screw that. Nobody puts Pudgey in the corner!"
Editor's note: This will be the first and last time I quote Dirty Dancing in a post.

I'm going to post what I want, when I want, about whom I want. End of story.

There are three basic reasons I started this blog; one of them moved to Iowa. Another is that I enjoy the writing. I want to play around with comedy writing, descriptive writing, opinion pieces, etc... I want to see if I can be good at it. The last reason is that I most likely suffer from
PAPD and I can always use another outlet. So, if you know me, be warned that there is a 100% chance that I post more than a few long winded introspective overly analytical diatribes about why I'm nearly 30, stuck in a low paying dead-end job, am a huge disappointment to my family, and women flee from me like Calista Flockhart from a Krispy Kreme. (Now that's a run-on sentence baby!)

Maybe writing here will help me cut down on the Costanzaesque blow ups in real life. Maybe not.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

With friends like these who needs enemies?

It appears that PZ has located my blog and forwarded the link to God knows how many people. What I thought was my first posted comment by someone I don’t know turned out to be my buddy Whatta chiming in from Minnesota. Whatta registered with blogger and created a blog whose only purpose is to mock my site. I was undecided about to whom I would reveal my site because I don’t want this to degenerate into a forum where my friends and I take pot shots at one another. That’s what poker games and fantasy league message boards are for.

That having been said; Whatta opened the door with his site. Also, the guy is a walking, talking comedy goldmine. So, in the interest of having everybody get to know each other here is my first ever Reader Profile.

Whatta
Minneapolis, MN
Ethnicity: Hispanic
Height: 5’3”
Weight: 195lbs
Hair: sporadic
Eyes: glazed

Whatta has been a friend of mine since elementary school. We grew up together. We played baseball against each other from little league through high school. We drank and got into trouble in high school and were roommates for a time after college. I introduced him to his wife. He has since moved to Minneapolis and is working as an insurance salesman and supplementing his income as a mariachi singer at a Mexican restaurant.

Some interesting facts about the Whattaman..

He got his nickname because he visited a Whattaburger restaurant thrice daily for an entire semester while pursuing a General Studies degree at Guadalupe Technical Institute (aka. The University of Arizona).

He is the inventor of the Vodkafina®. A method of drinking vodka from an Aquafina bottle while in public/at work.

He was the real life inspiration for Vince Vaughn’s “Double Down Trent” character in the 1996 smash hit Swingers.

I once suffered a laughter induced hernia upon discovering lifts in his shoes while we were roommates.

He once responded to a job interviewer’s query about his five year plan with, “I’m still going to be single and I’m going to buy a camarro.”
Editor’s note: He got the job.

He is a charter member of The Random Ill-Advised Drunken Comment Hall of Fame (RIADCHOF). Whatta was enshrined as part of the inaugural class of ’99 along with Courtney Love and the incomparable Tara Reid. He was a lock to be a first ballot inductee with credentials like these:

Standing on a chair in a packed bar…
“Ladies! I’m just a great lookin’ guy who’s lookin’ to hammer!”

Following a gold medal worthy ogling of a young lady…
Tough guy boyfriend of young lady: “What the hell are you looking at?”
Whatta: “Your bitch.”

My buddy Stoner: “Don’t talk about her like that man, she’s a good girl.”
Whatta: “Dude! I wanna stick it in her butt. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Whatta, meet the internet. Internet, this is Whatta. I will post additional reader profiles as warranted.