Haven’t updated in a while because, well fuck you it’s summer and who wants to type a bunch of words when it’s sunny and hot outside. Not me that’s who. Anyway just returned from a few TDY (business) trips and thought, you know what this blog needs? Public Service Announcements that’s what!
Thus …
Rules for business trips:
When drunk in your hotel room a close up photo of your balls texted to 45 of your closest friends will not be all that funny the next morning.
Okay, yes it will be, but only if it’s REALLY close … with a few ball hairs. That makes the joke funny. You need a few ball hairs in the photo.

Free for use internet images for herpies come up with some pretty funny results.
The fact that “Sasha” has offered you a dance in the “private room” does not mean you and her somehow ‘connected’ and anyway herpes doesn’t care. More on Sasha in a moment though.
Internet porn is free. Hotel TV porn is not. Do the math.
Hotel porn really, really sucks too.
Married males only: Internet porn is best enjoyed in rationed doses. If you find yourself looking at a naked midget clown mowing the lawn, literally mowing a lawn, it’s time for bed.
After a certain number of business trips you will likely shun all human contact after working hours. No longer will you desire to see the local post card production museum in (insert town here) or go out with your fellow travelers but will wish to remain secluded in your room most, if not all, nights. Refrain from building a fort from the hotel room’s pillows and sheets near the door.
If that’s impossible, build in an escape route, while giggling if possible.
The minibar in your own room should be treated with respect, only touched when needed. The minibar in anyone else’s room should be used and abused like a roman slave. #protip free beer is always available in someone else’s minibar.
Yes, yes you can have a beer in an airport no matter what time it is. Literally most international airports have bars that are open always. Use this opportunity to find out what you think is funny when you drink at 6 a.m. with no food. Facebook the results for extra credit fun.
Any offer by anyone traveling with you to go ‘out’ that night that is not a ‘tried and tested’ companion can and likely will result in a hangover that is level eight. Proceed with caution.
Currency conversion when drunk is best done by adding up the number of drinks consumed, multiplied by the hours spent in the establishment, divided by … just hand over the credit card. If you’re in an ‘unusual country’ said credit card will be declined and you will have to call the fraud alert hot line in the morning to, technical terms follows, “unfuck it.”
There is a 50-50 chance the boss is as hung over as you are. Should you find yourself not at all hung-over, spike the football. If not hung-over

This was not the best free for use image I could find for hungover but it was the one that made me laugh the most.
and wondering if the boss is hung-over, invite him out. If he gags, spike. Works. Every. Time.
No matter how prepared you were you forgot the most important up-to-date document. Deal with that.
The most important up-to-date document is really useless. It won’t survive day one of the real reason you’re traveling anyway.
Anyone that has a “good idea” or plans a “fun” ice breaker should be savagely stripped of all their clothing and beaten by the group with large sticks … or congratulated for being the most awesome person ever. Whichever.
Stripping a person of all their clothes and beating them with sticks should never be suggested as an icebreaker but would but a very memorable icebreaker.
Alone time in a hotel room is an excellent opportunity to go over every inch of your skin for weird shit. Odd bumps, hairs, anomalies, third nipples whatever. You’re likely naked anyway. Fuck the hotel furniture.
The hotel furniture is likely FULL of butt germs.
The temp of the hotel room can always be set to plus or minus five degrees of what you decide is awesome.
Printing any document while traveling will be a level 8-million clusterfuck, resign yourself.
The taxi driver will not speak you language … I don’t care what language you speak, he won’t speak it. This somehow equates to a better tip.
Any decision made after 11 p.m. will have interesting consequences.
No matter how much fun you’re having at the club don’t call home to tell your spouse about it.
Don’t.
Trust me.
Never let Sasha talk on the phone to your significant other, the phone bill is too high.

Don’t give Sasha your phone number. If your SO gives her the number … flee south.
If Sasha and your SO talk for more than 5 minutes, find religion and pray, pray for all you’re worth, that the plane going home crashes. This won’t happen of course so spend big at the duty free/gift shop … you will buy something they don’t want or even like but … okay hope the plane goes down.
While we are on Sasha, her ass is neither better than anyone else’s and you would not come to the “yard” for it in the morning. It’s a cute ass but it doesn’t need to be spoken of tomorrow.
Never say milkshake when referring to a person’s butt. Milk and butts are words that should not be combined.
When smoking in a non-smoking room always open and blow the smoke out the window. Offer the housekeeping staff a liberal bribe because you eventually got drunk and just “smoked it up” anyway.
Did you just send out a heart-felt email to a long lost lover from high school? Did you just cry? Are you currently naked and peeing in the sink? If yes, go to bed.
If any trusted coworker says at breakfast, “JESUS what the fuck happened to you!” Trust them. If you at breakfast say to a trusted coworker, “JESUS what the fuck happened to you?” Cover their ass and extract all the tales. Yeah that Sasha is a trip isn’t she?
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Harlots, bosoms and Tucker Max …
I can’t give this blog the love it deserves at the moment because, work. I’m on another business trip and sadly this one isn’t filled with strippers and angry Dagmar phone calls about said strippers.
Seriously I’m working crazy hours until Halloween so I’m not sure what I’ll be able to put up here. Either it will be incoherent, half-sleep deprived, half-drunk rants like this one or you’ll just have to come up with your own boob and beer jokes.
Here is a free, non boob and beer joke though.
What do you call a deer with no eyes? No eye-deer.
Okay I’m sorry I really shouldn’t do this when I’m tired. That was just sad.
I do have two odd things and here they are.
The first, the one I hope to write about soon involves about ten bat-shit crazy comments I received here last night/this morning. All by the same dude, different names but all the same dude. I deleted them all because if anyone’s going to use the words harlot, bosom and sin on this blog it will be fucking me. They were retarded but they COULD be funny because harlot, bosom and sin are hysterical words, if used right.
Trust me it will be funny, they’re deleted but saved. All you harlots have been warned. I suggest you wrap your bosoms up into brassieres and just fucking wait damn it.
The second, less funny but interesting thing, I want to talk about is Tucker Max.
Tucker Max (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Yeah, yeah get it out of your system now, 42 year old Todd finds Tucker Max interesting what a tard.
Fuck you, this is why.
Tucker, while funny and juvenile and <insert adjective here> is still Tucker there are, and I’m sure lot of fans know this, the moments where he’s really in the zone. You can see a lot of his influences and you can really appreciate what a great fucking writer that dude is.
This is what I just read,
“The rules your parents teach you to live by are very different than the rules the world actually runs by. Most of the conventional wisdom is not only wrong, it’s a lie told to us by people who want to control us. It doesn’t help us, it helps them.”
By the ticket take the ride …English: Hunter S. Thompson, Miami Book Fair International, 1988 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
If you’re a Hunter S. Thompson fan and don’t see a lot of HST in that, try harder. I’m starting to discover I love rereading Tucker Max, just as I love rereading HST. Each time you reread it, you find something new. His stories are funny at first glance but, maybe more so in the later books, they have brilliant bits. I think I read that he was influenced by HST, and that fits, but …
But …
But …
But I need to go to bed, early mornings and all.
Also boobies.
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Tagged beer, Boobs, bosom, brassieres, comments, drunk, harlot, Humor, Hunter S. Thompson, Recreation, Tucker, Tucker Max