A smile to remember
we had goldfish and they circled around and around
in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering the picture window and
my mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be happy, told me, "be happy Henry!"
and she was right: it's better to be happy if you
can
but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while
raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
understand what was attacking him from within.
my mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!
why don't you ever smile?"
and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the
saddest smile I ever saw
one day the goldfish died, all five of them,
they floated on the water, on their sides, their
eyes still open,
and when my father got home he threw them to the cat
there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother
smiled
Charles Bukowski
http://www.poemsabout.com/poet/charles-bukowski/
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
food blog #2 for Crit Writing
Welcome to Due Mari. A place where you wont leave unsatisfied but you WILL leave with an empty wallet. Due Mari is a fancy shmancy upscale italian restaurant on Albany Street in New Brunswick. Lucky for me, 3 of my close girlfriends work there and so through them I've made a whole new group of friends (the due mari staff). I claim to be a "mari wannabe", actually.
Anyway, most weekends that I go home from school, i'll sit at the bar and eat like a queen at this place. I've gone with my whole family before and it was strange being served by my friends who, had to act all prim and proper regardless. But if one of the girls isn't working (it's usually my friend lauren that I go with), we sit, eat and drink the night away. It's actually wonderful (except for the check; yes even with their discount) Just this past weekend, I went with Lauren and her friend Mariam. Let me just say, my hunger took over the fact that I knew i was pressed for money. I ordered a $26 entree and shared a salad, appetizer and dessert with the girls. First we were served pieces of warm foccacia bread, then our salads (which was a simple house salad with vinaigrette) and then out came the calamari. Best calamari to ever touch my tongue. NOW, for my entree, I ordered the "short ribs" meal. It was this unbelievably tender hunk of meat surrounded and topped with pickled garnish (red cabbage maybe?) and potato puree. One of the most delicious plates of food i've had in a long time. On the other hand, everything from Mari is delectable. I housed it; made sure I was getting every penny's worth. Dessert? Oh yes. Tartaletta. Not too sure about the spelling, but it doesn't matter. It's a little rich and chocolaty pie shaped dessert topped with ice cream and RASPBERRIES. YUM. Oh and at this point, I'd like to mention i'm near ready to vomit and entirely satisfied with this feeling. But hey, enough about the food.
Ever had someone stare at you for more than 5 seconds, continuously over a long period of time? IT'S GOD AWFULLY ANNOYING AND RUDE. My goodness what the hell is it that I can help you with, man? Is there something on my face? What is it? I'm trying to enjoy my time out with my friends and this couple across the way from us at the bar, maybe in their late 20's, early 30's, kept staring at me, smirking, and whispering. I was concerned to the point where I texted my parents trying to figure out if maybe it was one of our family friends and then I thought about how maybe they totally knew I wasn't 21 and were getting a giggle out of it? Either way, it was rude and definitely quite bothersome. Once this issue disappeared, 3 lovely men on travel for work, coming from virginia, sat next to me. The one directly to my left, I'll name him.... Peter. Peter was such a nice refreshing person to deal with after having rude man and rude women stare me down for a whole hour. He was asking me all about places to go out and what bars in the area were good. At this point I KNEW I couldn't have looked that young, so those other people were just idiots. Idiots. In the midst of all of this, I had a stomach ache forming into a size larger than Texas. Another successful night at Mari. A food filled belly and 40 bucks short. The best.
P.S. I Highly recommend you try it at least once and who knows, maybe by then i'll also be an employee ;) If not I promise that whoever is your server will NOT disappoint you. Everyone there is wonderful.
P.P.S The pizza is awesome. Gosh, everything's awesome.
Anyway, most weekends that I go home from school, i'll sit at the bar and eat like a queen at this place. I've gone with my whole family before and it was strange being served by my friends who, had to act all prim and proper regardless. But if one of the girls isn't working (it's usually my friend lauren that I go with), we sit, eat and drink the night away. It's actually wonderful (except for the check; yes even with their discount) Just this past weekend, I went with Lauren and her friend Mariam. Let me just say, my hunger took over the fact that I knew i was pressed for money. I ordered a $26 entree and shared a salad, appetizer and dessert with the girls. First we were served pieces of warm foccacia bread, then our salads (which was a simple house salad with vinaigrette) and then out came the calamari. Best calamari to ever touch my tongue. NOW, for my entree, I ordered the "short ribs" meal. It was this unbelievably tender hunk of meat surrounded and topped with pickled garnish (red cabbage maybe?) and potato puree. One of the most delicious plates of food i've had in a long time. On the other hand, everything from Mari is delectable. I housed it; made sure I was getting every penny's worth. Dessert? Oh yes. Tartaletta. Not too sure about the spelling, but it doesn't matter. It's a little rich and chocolaty pie shaped dessert topped with ice cream and RASPBERRIES. YUM. Oh and at this point, I'd like to mention i'm near ready to vomit and entirely satisfied with this feeling. But hey, enough about the food.
Ever had someone stare at you for more than 5 seconds, continuously over a long period of time? IT'S GOD AWFULLY ANNOYING AND RUDE. My goodness what the hell is it that I can help you with, man? Is there something on my face? What is it? I'm trying to enjoy my time out with my friends and this couple across the way from us at the bar, maybe in their late 20's, early 30's, kept staring at me, smirking, and whispering. I was concerned to the point where I texted my parents trying to figure out if maybe it was one of our family friends and then I thought about how maybe they totally knew I wasn't 21 and were getting a giggle out of it? Either way, it was rude and definitely quite bothersome. Once this issue disappeared, 3 lovely men on travel for work, coming from virginia, sat next to me. The one directly to my left, I'll name him.... Peter. Peter was such a nice refreshing person to deal with after having rude man and rude women stare me down for a whole hour. He was asking me all about places to go out and what bars in the area were good. At this point I KNEW I couldn't have looked that young, so those other people were just idiots. Idiots. In the midst of all of this, I had a stomach ache forming into a size larger than Texas. Another successful night at Mari. A food filled belly and 40 bucks short. The best.
P.S. I Highly recommend you try it at least once and who knows, maybe by then i'll also be an employee ;) If not I promise that whoever is your server will NOT disappoint you. Everyone there is wonderful.
P.P.S The pizza is awesome. Gosh, everything's awesome.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
food blog #1 for Crit Writing
I decided to keep this food blog when I was at Jose Teja's (Tex-Mex restaurant in Fairfield, NJ) one night. For whatever reason, I was extra observant that night and decided that recording certain aspects of different restaurants, or anywhere for that matter, could be quite entertaining.
It began when the waitress served my friends and I our second round of chips and salsa. At this point we had not received our meals and I was half way to being full. Was this their plan? I wasn't sure. I mean... I don't think that it benefits them? Maybe they figure... "Oh they'll be so full that they'll just need to bring home the left overs and when they eat it the next day, will be reminded of how fabulous our restaurant is! How could they not come back?" OR .. or, maybe they have a secret addictive ingredient in the salsa and/or the chips. Not gonna lie, I wouldn't doubt this one, my friends. After my past visit to Jose Tejas, I went 3 more times after within the next week and a half just JONESIN' for those chips and salsa. Interesting. Anyway, aside from all of my womping blabber... the food there is to die for and it's barely expensive. The place, is a gold mine. Tried going there at 330-4 on a Saturday and I had to wait an hour. Props to the owner!
People watching. People watching is always entertaining when you think into it. The table next to my friends and I were without a doubt the "first date couple" of the year.
"So, do you drink often?"
"What's your family like are you close with them?"
.. bill comes
"Oh i've got this, don't worry about it!" (The dude, of course.)
And then there was this older man behind us. He was sitting alone with a book to read, a glass of wine AND a bottle of beer (both full). He was then served a salad, a main course and an appetizer (all at the same time). The ideas being thrown around the table between my friends and I were as such:
"Maybe he's reviewing the restaurant."
"Maybe his wife died and this is where they came to eat all the time."
"Maybe he's just really alone."
"Maybe he got stood up."
and the ideas continued, of course while Todd and Jenny finished up their first date.
My friend then, wrote his number on the tip for the waitress. We told him that he wasn't only leaving his number for her, but for everyone else who will ever get that dollar bill. He didn't care.
P.S. The chicken quesadillas and fajitas are to die for.
P.P.S. You will reek of mexican food once you leave the place.
I give it a two thumbs up.
It began when the waitress served my friends and I our second round of chips and salsa. At this point we had not received our meals and I was half way to being full. Was this their plan? I wasn't sure. I mean... I don't think that it benefits them? Maybe they figure... "Oh they'll be so full that they'll just need to bring home the left overs and when they eat it the next day, will be reminded of how fabulous our restaurant is! How could they not come back?" OR .. or, maybe they have a secret addictive ingredient in the salsa and/or the chips. Not gonna lie, I wouldn't doubt this one, my friends. After my past visit to Jose Tejas, I went 3 more times after within the next week and a half just JONESIN' for those chips and salsa. Interesting. Anyway, aside from all of my womping blabber... the food there is to die for and it's barely expensive. The place, is a gold mine. Tried going there at 330-4 on a Saturday and I had to wait an hour. Props to the owner!
People watching. People watching is always entertaining when you think into it. The table next to my friends and I were without a doubt the "first date couple" of the year.
"So, do you drink often?"
"What's your family like are you close with them?"
.. bill comes
"Oh i've got this, don't worry about it!" (The dude, of course.)
And then there was this older man behind us. He was sitting alone with a book to read, a glass of wine AND a bottle of beer (both full). He was then served a salad, a main course and an appetizer (all at the same time). The ideas being thrown around the table between my friends and I were as such:
"Maybe he's reviewing the restaurant."
"Maybe his wife died and this is where they came to eat all the time."
"Maybe he's just really alone."
"Maybe he got stood up."
and the ideas continued, of course while Todd and Jenny finished up their first date.
My friend then, wrote his number on the tip for the waitress. We told him that he wasn't only leaving his number for her, but for everyone else who will ever get that dollar bill. He didn't care.
P.S. The chicken quesadillas and fajitas are to die for.
P.P.S. You will reek of mexican food once you leave the place.
I give it a two thumbs up.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
sentences for 2/16
A mistake loaded young man who wanted to do anything to make things okay. A stubborn mother who knew it was bullshit and wanted absolutely nothing to do with the apologies.
Monday, February 15, 2010
workshop B for 2/16
This kiss, unfinished
Seeming certain at that moment
As certain as the blanket
Intertwined within our bodies.
As certain as the socks
And pants on the ground.
This kiss, unfinished
And most certainly uncertain
As uncertain as her hair band
Still on your wrist
And uncertain as her picture
On your phone.
This unfinished kiss
Is finished.
-Ashley grabowski
Seeming certain at that moment
As certain as the blanket
Intertwined within our bodies.
As certain as the socks
And pants on the ground.
This kiss, unfinished
And most certainly uncertain
As uncertain as her hair band
Still on your wrist
And uncertain as her picture
On your phone.
This unfinished kiss
Is finished.
-Ashley grabowski
Thursday, February 11, 2010
writing poetry for 2/10
Writing poetry can be about pickles,
because those pickles
could have more meaning than
a halmark filled with cliches.
The alternative to display some thoughts.
In different shapes, different styles and forms.
For the record, pickles mean
absolutely nothing to me.
Another poet's link:
http://www.poetry-archive.com/w/to_a_stranger.html
because those pickles
could have more meaning than
a halmark filled with cliches.
The alternative to display some thoughts.
In different shapes, different styles and forms.
For the record, pickles mean
absolutely nothing to me.
Another poet's link:
http://www.poetry-archive.com/w/to_a_stranger.html
Sunday, February 7, 2010
noun phrase loaded 2/8
"I got a twenty-dollar bill that says no one's ever seen you without makeup, you're always made up...And I'm sick of your tattoos,
and the way you always criticize the Smiths... and Morrissey."
A line from a song by Brand New (If this isn't aloud, please let me know)
"She placed her water bottle near the computer and a slamming of the door startled her, causing her to knock the water all over her keyboard."
^mine
and the way you always criticize the Smiths... and Morrissey."
A line from a song by Brand New (If this isn't aloud, please let me know)
"She placed her water bottle near the computer and a slamming of the door startled her, causing her to knock the water all over her keyboard."
^mine
86'd
Being underage; scoring some alcohol is barely ever a problem, for anyone. From fake i.d.'s to just getting served anyway, or having friends that are 21+ it's just a simple process. However, what I recently learned (the hard way) was that trying to drink at clubs in the city is an atrocious idea. Especially when one of your good friends is hosting the event.
Typically when I come home from school on the weekend, you'll find me hanging out in New brunswick with the same group of friends and if not there, then Ewing (besides the point). Anyway, this past weekend, my friend CM (I'll use initials for privacy purposes) was hired to host a party in the bottom level of Webster Hall (called Trash) in NYC. I was supposed to drive there with CM and friends MG, SJ, and NB. So once I arrived in New Brunswick at MG's place, we pre-gamed a little bit and once SJ got there, we all drove to CM's house and then he drove me, the girls (SJ and MG), and NB to the club.
It started off like this.
Me - "MG, can you pee with me when we get there?"
MG - "Of course, I have to go too"
Me - "CM, how far are we from the club?"
CM - "Idk, 5-10 minutes?"
I was starting to feel hopeless for my pee staying inside of my bladder.
Me - "I don't think i'm going to be able to hold it. It hurts. I might pee on the seat."
MG - "Dude i'll cut open a bottle or something if you want?"
Me - "CM, please, pull over anywhere possible. This is unbearable."
I could tell he was annoyed because he was already stressing out about making it there on time. The sensation of piss knocking at my flood gates left me to not care at this point. And finally (even though we were literally two minutes away) NB spoke up and saved me from peeing on SJ's backseat.
NB - "Quick, get out. We'll run across to that bar and they'll just pull the car over there once the light changes!"
So thankfully, he accompanied me in running across the street so that I could relieve myself in the bathroom of some random bar that luckily, when we entered, the door man was occupied and we didn't have to deal with explaining my emergency urine situation. After this ordeal, we get back in the car and finally arrive to Webster's. In entering, we didn't have to pay since we were with CM, however each of MG's, SJ's and my hands were marked with two big permanent marker x's to indicate that we were "underage." Womp, womp. So, naturally, the first thing MG and I did was hit the bathroom and remove the evil ink.
Anyway, once out of the bathroom, NB was kind enough to buy a beer for me. This one was finished successfully. Round 2...not so successful.
Big mean douche bag bouncer - "Excuse me can I see your I.D.?"
(Before being asked this I had just gotten rid of the can I was holding)
Me - "Yeah sure, here."
BMDBB - "You're not supposed to be drinking, you have to leave."
Me - "I'm not though, do you see me with a drink?"
BMDBB - "Do you think i'm fucking stupid? I saw you. You have to go. Give your coat check tickets to your friend."
I was given the boot. Outside, in the cold in a small black dress and pink leggings.
BMDBB - "Why'd you have to be such an idiot? Give me your hands."
86'd. This asshole drew two huge permanent 86's on my hands. COOL.
Almost immediately after being escorted outside, CM came out and gave me all of the instructions I needed in order to get back inside. And then my other friend, PM.. kept me company and made sure everything went smoothly. So we walked to SJ's car and the first thing I did was remove my pink leggings because BMDBB referred to me as "girl in the black dress and pink stockings". My dress was long enough anyway, and to completely change my outfit, I found a button down shirt and leather jacket in the trunk to put over my black dress and to top it off I tied back my hair. Once operation identity switch was complete, PM walked me to a burger place across the street so that I could scrub the hell out of those damn 86's. To my advantage, there was a bottle of windex in the bathroom and even with that, soap, water and toilet paper... I couldn't get them off. So I call for PM to help me.
Me - "They wont get off."
PM - "Want me to come in and help?"
Me - "Yes, PLEASE."
So he comes into the bathroom and at this point you know exactly what the guys working there are thinking.
PM - "Alright, I'm going to use my shirt, and i'm going to scrub as hard as I fucking can. Try to bear with me"
Me - "I don't care just get it offffffff."
I closed my eyes and cringed while he basically scrubbed the top layers of skin off of my hands and all the while, the men who worked there kept knocking at the door.
PM - "ONE MINUTE WE'RE POOPING IN HERE"
And once the marker was finally off, we got out, gave the guys a few bucks and booked.
Final stage: Go through the side entrance rather then the front which is where I had previously entered. So i separate from PM and he tells me to call as soon as I get in, or get rejected. In approaching the alternate entrance, I was praying to myself that BMDBB wasn't anywhere in sight, and luckily, he was not. Just three huge 6ft tall (and taller) bouncers with intimidating surface piercings along their cheek bones were manning the door. I thought to myself, "...as soon as I get to the door I'm going to tell that bouncer how much I admire his face piercings and flash him a cute smile."
While handing him my I.D. and smiling I say "Dude, I absolutely love that piercing!"
Piercing man - I NEED A STATE I.D.
Me - What?
He rudely handed me back my I.D. and I realized that I accidentally handed him my school I.D. Quickly I grab my license and I was given my final markings of the night. X on the left, X on the right. I was in.
Success. I never thought I'd be happy to see those X's again.
And so for the remainder of the night I danced my face off and had the time of my life. All was well worth it and the moral of this story is to never wash your hands with windex. It makes them very itchy ;)
"There's nothing you can't do, Now you're in New York."
Typically when I come home from school on the weekend, you'll find me hanging out in New brunswick with the same group of friends and if not there, then Ewing (besides the point). Anyway, this past weekend, my friend CM (I'll use initials for privacy purposes) was hired to host a party in the bottom level of Webster Hall (called Trash) in NYC. I was supposed to drive there with CM and friends MG, SJ, and NB. So once I arrived in New Brunswick at MG's place, we pre-gamed a little bit and once SJ got there, we all drove to CM's house and then he drove me, the girls (SJ and MG), and NB to the club.
It started off like this.
Me - "MG, can you pee with me when we get there?"
MG - "Of course, I have to go too"
Me - "CM, how far are we from the club?"
CM - "Idk, 5-10 minutes?"
I was starting to feel hopeless for my pee staying inside of my bladder.
Me - "I don't think i'm going to be able to hold it. It hurts. I might pee on the seat."
MG - "Dude i'll cut open a bottle or something if you want?"
Me - "CM, please, pull over anywhere possible. This is unbearable."
I could tell he was annoyed because he was already stressing out about making it there on time. The sensation of piss knocking at my flood gates left me to not care at this point. And finally (even though we were literally two minutes away) NB spoke up and saved me from peeing on SJ's backseat.
NB - "Quick, get out. We'll run across to that bar and they'll just pull the car over there once the light changes!"
So thankfully, he accompanied me in running across the street so that I could relieve myself in the bathroom of some random bar that luckily, when we entered, the door man was occupied and we didn't have to deal with explaining my emergency urine situation. After this ordeal, we get back in the car and finally arrive to Webster's. In entering, we didn't have to pay since we were with CM, however each of MG's, SJ's and my hands were marked with two big permanent marker x's to indicate that we were "underage." Womp, womp. So, naturally, the first thing MG and I did was hit the bathroom and remove the evil ink.
Anyway, once out of the bathroom, NB was kind enough to buy a beer for me. This one was finished successfully. Round 2...not so successful.
Big mean douche bag bouncer - "Excuse me can I see your I.D.?"
(Before being asked this I had just gotten rid of the can I was holding)
Me - "Yeah sure, here."
BMDBB - "You're not supposed to be drinking, you have to leave."
Me - "I'm not though, do you see me with a drink?"
BMDBB - "Do you think i'm fucking stupid? I saw you. You have to go. Give your coat check tickets to your friend."
I was given the boot. Outside, in the cold in a small black dress and pink leggings.
BMDBB - "Why'd you have to be such an idiot? Give me your hands."
86'd. This asshole drew two huge permanent 86's on my hands. COOL.
Almost immediately after being escorted outside, CM came out and gave me all of the instructions I needed in order to get back inside. And then my other friend, PM.. kept me company and made sure everything went smoothly. So we walked to SJ's car and the first thing I did was remove my pink leggings because BMDBB referred to me as "girl in the black dress and pink stockings". My dress was long enough anyway, and to completely change my outfit, I found a button down shirt and leather jacket in the trunk to put over my black dress and to top it off I tied back my hair. Once operation identity switch was complete, PM walked me to a burger place across the street so that I could scrub the hell out of those damn 86's. To my advantage, there was a bottle of windex in the bathroom and even with that, soap, water and toilet paper... I couldn't get them off. So I call for PM to help me.
Me - "They wont get off."
PM - "Want me to come in and help?"
Me - "Yes, PLEASE."
So he comes into the bathroom and at this point you know exactly what the guys working there are thinking.
PM - "Alright, I'm going to use my shirt, and i'm going to scrub as hard as I fucking can. Try to bear with me"
Me - "I don't care just get it offffffff."
I closed my eyes and cringed while he basically scrubbed the top layers of skin off of my hands and all the while, the men who worked there kept knocking at the door.
PM - "ONE MINUTE WE'RE POOPING IN HERE"
And once the marker was finally off, we got out, gave the guys a few bucks and booked.
Final stage: Go through the side entrance rather then the front which is where I had previously entered. So i separate from PM and he tells me to call as soon as I get in, or get rejected. In approaching the alternate entrance, I was praying to myself that BMDBB wasn't anywhere in sight, and luckily, he was not. Just three huge 6ft tall (and taller) bouncers with intimidating surface piercings along their cheek bones were manning the door. I thought to myself, "...as soon as I get to the door I'm going to tell that bouncer how much I admire his face piercings and flash him a cute smile."
While handing him my I.D. and smiling I say "Dude, I absolutely love that piercing!"
Piercing man - I NEED A STATE I.D.
Me - What?
He rudely handed me back my I.D. and I realized that I accidentally handed him my school I.D. Quickly I grab my license and I was given my final markings of the night. X on the left, X on the right. I was in.
Success. I never thought I'd be happy to see those X's again.
And so for the remainder of the night I danced my face off and had the time of my life. All was well worth it and the moral of this story is to never wash your hands with windex. It makes them very itchy ;)
"There's nothing you can't do, Now you're in New York."
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
tucker max and Matthew Dickman
http://www.tuckermax.com/
^this is the main link
http://www.tuckermax.com/archives/entries/date/the_famous_sushi_pants_story.phtml#277
"1:24: I can't find my pants. My breathalyzer is in clear sight. I blow. A .23. Someone informs me that my challenger just blew a .26. They add that he hasn't thrown up yet. I tell them to "kiss my fucking ass." My last clear memory.
8:15am: I wake up. I don't know where I am. It is very hot. I am sweating horribly. It smells like rotting flesh.
8:16: I am in my car. With the windows up. The sun is beating down directly on me. It is at least 125 degrees in my car. I open the door and try to get out, but instead I fall onto the pavement. The scabs that cover my legs tear and reopen as I move. My penis falls out of my pink Gap boxers and lands, along with the rest of me, in a dirty puddle on the asphalt.
8:19: The fetid standing water finally propels me into full consciousness. I can't find my pants. Or cell phone. Or wallet. But I do have my breathalyzer. I blow. A .09. I am still not eligible to drive in the state of Florida.
8:22: I drive home anyway."
^and this is a sample of what Tucker Max is all about.
This is the type of guy girls would typically despise. The type of guy that I, personally would never involve myself with sexually/intimately (in fear of STD's or other rare diseases)...however, this didn't stop me from reading or laughing out loud in response to every story. They're the types of stories that you just can't make up. Check it out, and definitely read the book titled "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell."
A poem by Matthew Dickman, suggested by a very good friend of mine.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/slow-dance-7/
^this is the main link
http://www.tuckermax.com/archives/entries/date/the_famous_sushi_pants_story.phtml#277
"1:24: I can't find my pants. My breathalyzer is in clear sight. I blow. A .23. Someone informs me that my challenger just blew a .26. They add that he hasn't thrown up yet. I tell them to "kiss my fucking ass." My last clear memory.
8:15am: I wake up. I don't know where I am. It is very hot. I am sweating horribly. It smells like rotting flesh.
8:16: I am in my car. With the windows up. The sun is beating down directly on me. It is at least 125 degrees in my car. I open the door and try to get out, but instead I fall onto the pavement. The scabs that cover my legs tear and reopen as I move. My penis falls out of my pink Gap boxers and lands, along with the rest of me, in a dirty puddle on the asphalt.
8:19: The fetid standing water finally propels me into full consciousness. I can't find my pants. Or cell phone. Or wallet. But I do have my breathalyzer. I blow. A .09. I am still not eligible to drive in the state of Florida.
8:22: I drive home anyway."
^and this is a sample of what Tucker Max is all about.
This is the type of guy girls would typically despise. The type of guy that I, personally would never involve myself with sexually/intimately (in fear of STD's or other rare diseases)...however, this didn't stop me from reading or laughing out loud in response to every story. They're the types of stories that you just can't make up. Check it out, and definitely read the book titled "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell."
A poem by Matthew Dickman, suggested by a very good friend of mine.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/slow-dance-7/
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