I Am Not a Racist (I’m Just an Asshole)

It has been brought to my attention recently that the title of my blog could be construed as racist. So I’d like to take this time to set the record straight.

The inspiration for the title comes from old fashioned personal ads. Those of you old enough to remember the days before internet dating (or those of you that have seen crappy old romantic comedies) will recall that people used to place ads in the newspaper with messages like “Single white male seeks…” or “Divorced black female seeks…”

You may or may not also be aware that when gay people placed personal ads they would often say something like “Single white male seeks same.” So, taking these conventions as inspiration, I tailored my own unique twist and came up with “Single White Alcoholic Seeks Same.”

 

For the record, I am not gay, I am not racist, and for the last nine months I haven’t even been single. (I was single when I started my writings; now I’m using “single” in the more liberal sense, as in “not married.”  Pray I don’t ever have to change this blog to “The Neutered White Alcoholic!”) 

The “white” part just fit with the theme of an old-fashioned personal ad.  It’s just a name I came up with. It sounded funny when I thought it up so I went with it.  I have no issues with any race.  I’ve drank with Mexicans, had sex with Asians, and I’ll be voting for a black man in 2012.

You got a problem with that?

On a separate note, today is the Marine Corps’ 236th birthday.  For those of you keeping track at home, the Marine Corps is actually a year older than the United States.  That’s right, they not only protect the good ol’ U S of A, they basically created it!  In honor of the finest soldiers in the world, I present you with a hot girl in USMC bodypaint:

And a hot girl taking off a Marine uniform:

And, finally, what I think is an actual, real-life Marine.  At the risk of making light of all our soldiers do, I would totally go to war with this girl!

Semper Fi all of you.

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Do You Really Care?

A quick post today about my newest pet peeve.

In surfing through some other people’s blogs looking for inspiration, I noticed a strange (to me) phenomenon: people reporting what they were listening to while writing their post.  Some people even go so far as to report how many cups of coffee they’ve had on the day of their post, or some other inane personal tidbit that is completely irrelevant to their actual post.

This got me wondering… I don’t care if the author was listening to U2 or Justin Bieber; if they were wearing their pajamas or a 3-piece suit; if they were sipping on an iced caramel latte or a Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper (although I do care if you were drinking a strong alcoholic beverage; that’s always good information to have).

The point, I guess, is that people should be reading blogs for content.  Would it make my stories better if I told you I wrote them sitting at my desk at work when I was supposed to be working on a big project?  Or that I masturbated three times while deciding which picture I wanted to post today to offend the Preacher’s Daughter?  (Just kidding, PK!)

Just for you, PK! Even gave it a southern flair for you. Go Georgia!

For the record, I wrote this post while listening to Jewel.  That’s right, Jewel.  She’s the greatest singer/songwriter of our generation.  I love her music and I’m not ashamed of it.

I was wearing slacks and a polo shirt today when I wrote this.  The blue of the polo shirt really sets off my eyes.  Or so I’ve been told.

I was drinking water from the drinking fountain, but in my stylish Buffalo Sabres Tervis Tumbler.

Oh, and I was wearing black briefs today, just in case you were wondering.  They give me support in all the right places so I don’t care what you think.  Laugh away, assholes.

First!

While I would love for my blog to go viral and become an international sensation (well, maybe just a national sensation, you know I don’t like foreigners very much), there is one thing I am thankful for with my relative obscurity: there aren’t any assholes commenting “First!” every time I put up a new post.

Have you seen this phenomenon?  You read an interesting post or story on the web, you want to see what other people’s reaction is, and the first thing you find is some big wet flapping douchebag commenting “First!” followed by six other douchebags saying something along the lines of “Damn, I was almost first,” or “How are you always first?”  This is turn leads to a few angry people (like myself) posting angry comments telling all the “First” people to go jump off the nearest rooftop.  And before long you’ve completely forgotten the original post that you were actually interested in.

So while I would like to get some more comments on my blog, if any of you are thinking about commenting “First,” please go lay down in the middle of traffic “first!”

Maybe this is the kind of football uni you like?

On the subject of comments, my Football Fashion post drew a surprising number of tweets and emails if not actual comments.  So I’m not sure if that means only my closest friends give a shit about football uniforms, or if the rest of you are just too shy to comment.  If you want more posts of the kind you gotta let me know.  Or if you just want to keep reading about me drinking myself stupid and failing with the ladies you gotta let me know that too.

Comment away.  Just no “First!” comments, ok?  I mean it.

My Life Isn’t Exciting Enough to Keep This Blog Going

It’s been a fun six months of telling my stories to you, my faithful readers.  But now I am faced with a reality that I cannot escape: my life isn’t exciting enough to keep this blog going indefinitely.  Consider the following obstacles facing me:

— I didn’t start drinking until I was about 22, and didn’t become a full-blown lush until around 23, 24.  So I have no college stories worth telling.  (Unless you want to hear about the agony and the heartbreak of being an Illini fan.  Trust me, you don’t.)

— I was a virgin until I was 26 years old.  I know, I know, fucking pathetic.  I lay most of the blame on my previous point.  Had I drank in college I’m absolutely certain I’d have bagged at least a couple sorostitutes.  It’d be almost impossible not to.  But I didn’t, so again, no good college stories.

— I’ve lived in End Of The World, Utah for nearly five years now.  Although I’ve made the best of it, it’s not exactly the good life.  Few bars and even fewer promiscuous women make it hard to create good stories.  Does anyone want to read about last Saturday night, when we all sat around my poker table and did Power Hour, followed by more drinking games?  No one puked, got laid, got arrested, or even took their clothes off.  As Officer Barbrady would say, “Move along, nothing to see here!”

— And last, in one of life’s cruel little ironies, I am now in a relationship.  In the first 34 years of my life, during which I was single for roughly 98% of, I collected some good stories, mostly of my epic failures.  And I wrote a great many of them down.  I had long considered starting a blog to relate these stories.  But I didn’t get serious about it until last winter.  I spent a couple weeks re-writing stories (mostly changing names to protect the guilty), worked diligently on picking out my theme and layout and all that stuff, all with the intention of launching at the New Year.  So what happened?  I went home for Christmas… and met a girl in a shitty dive bar in my hometown on Christmas night.  Just in time to make my entire blog a lie.  I’ve stuck with the title of “Single White Alcoholic” on the technicality that my marital status remains “single.”  But, truth be told, I’ve been living a lie this whole time.  I really should change the name to “Neutered White Alcoholic.”

So… what to do?  I still have some stories squirreled away, don’t get me wrong.  Like the water polo player I hooked up with on the dance floor of a country western bar.  Or the night in Vegas when I met a girl who wanted me to go home with her but had to check and see if her boyfriend was in the mood to watch.

But my inventory is shrinking.  And since the girlfriend has forbidden me to write anymore about her, it doesn’t look like it will be replenished anytime soon.

So I’m going to try something.  An experiment of sorts.  For the next week or two I’m going to try and tell some of my friends’ best stories.  Most of these stories I was at least tangentially a part of, but I’m still not sure if I’ll be able to convey my normal wit, sarcasm and emotions onto other people’s stories.  But I’m gonna give it a try.  And I have one story a friend sent me that I was sorely tempted to steal and make my own, but I figure I’ve lied enough already, taking credit for another man’s conquest would bring some bad, bad karma down upon my head.

First stories should be up in the next couple days.  Let me know what you think!

(Thanks to Despair.com for so many of the great Demotivators I employ in my posts.)

Don’t Forget to Vote

Voting is still open.

Photo Blog

I’m being lazy today.  What the hell, it’s my birthday and I feel more like drinking than blogging.  So, for your reading/viewing pleasure, a collection of photos I’ve used for my header to date, and some possible future headers.  Let me know which ones you like best.  Or send me pics you think would make a great header.

The classic: I stole this one off some random girl’s MySpace page about 6 years ago.  No idea who she was or how I stumbled upon it, but I absolutely love this pic.  Anybody know what city that is?  I’m guessing Tampa or Miami.

 Another pic I stole from an unwitting female.  I actually know this girl, sort of, but she has no idea I “committed the robbery” as they say on Jersey Shore.

Here’s a classic shot of the Hindenberg disaster.  I often use this for my logo when I play fantasy sports, ’cause that’s usually how my teams wind up.  It’s also an excellent metaphor for most of my hook-ups (such as The Girl With the Glasses).

The perfect sentiment for March Madness.  Too bad my bracket was ruined shortly after St. Patrick’s Day this season.

How can you not love tanning booths???  They make girls dark and sexy.  It’s on my bucket list to have sex in a tanning booth someday.  I’ll probably wind up with a massive sunburn on my bald head (not to mention my bare ass), but it will be totally worth it.

And now, some possible future headline pics.  Let me know which ones you like best.

This one isn’t really up for debate.  It WILL be up during the Sabres playoff run.  (Not to worry, it will probably only last about 10 days.)

Morbid?  Yes.  Disgusting?  You bet.  A true reflection of my violently jingoistic, pro-American, pro-military, pro-killing-people-who-disagree-with-me stance?  Abso-fucking-lutely.

I’ll have to do some cropping to make him fit, but how can you not love Pearl Jam’s Alive guy?

Once again, patriotism (and blond girls) rule the day.

Need I say more?  There just aren’t enough girls like this out there.

It’s not often I promote anything positive with regards to a country not named the good ol’ U S of A, and even less often that I will have anything nice to say about the sport of soccer.  But this World Cup poster for England caused a huge stir in the Muslim world.  Apparently they thought the cross was a rallying cry for a new Crusade.  To which I can only respond: I wish!

Raise your hand if you love nipple rings!!

Studies have shown that 99% of men only watch beach volleyball for the girls in bikinis.  And although I am a big volleyball fan, and a big fan of Kerri Walsh’s game, I have to admit I still probably fall into that category.