"the U.N. of Poonani"

It would've been different if someone had knocked him sideways, but it never happened. So he just kept on predicting and winning, predicting and winning, predicting and winning. After a while it was like Candide: he didn't think anything could go wrong in this, the best possible of all worlds.
--Dr. Ferdie Pacheco about Muhammed Ali's rise to stardom

GuhyeeOD DAMN.

I have literally never lived in a day in my life where I've had this much fun before 6. I may've literally never had a day this fun ever.

Hitting all colors for the pussy cycle will do that to a brother.

So let's do what I always say to do: begin with the beginning, go through the middle, and eventually reach the end.

Aaron & I hit PB today to look for a place to rent for our summer vacation. Living the dream of beach bums: balcony, deck facing the ocean, wild parties, bikinis, waking up at 2 and sleeping at 5, the whole megillah. The boardwalk was just up and down with places to rent so we went up and down it. (The best one looked like Tony Montana's summer home, with a spiral staircase in lieu of an elevator. And FOUR fireplaces for an outside loft visible from the boardwalk. Pics next time.)

We get the thumbs up from this cute blonde at a bistro at the northern most end (started at the south and went up), but it doesn't go anywhere because we then spend the rest of the time playing "Mr. Jones" off each other--she's looking at you? I don't think so, she looking at me.

After checking out all there is to check out, we go to Hooters.

And life as I know it ends.

There's a 22-year-old Latina Hooters waitress.

And she has a twin sister.

And they're working at the same time.

Brenda and Glenda. Glenda and Brenda. I literally do not remember a thing about today before Brenda and Glenda, and as such have logically come to the conclusion that everything about today BB&G is pointless unnecessary white noise. We ask Brenda (maybe Glenda? Doesn't matter, the fact the question alone has to be asked does) what was up with the thumbs up and she doesn't know because she usually smiles at guys when she's into guys. And then, the best throwaway sentence ever.

"It might've just been because she saw two good-looking guys."

The rest of my body has since filed for federal aid, as the ego tsunami has left them in ruins.

Maybe it was because I matched the retro Warriors hat with the neoretro J-Rich jersey today?

So anyway, more remarkable than that is the fact I order a Philly cheesesteak and don't finish it. It's like the moon colliding into the ocean. There are just certain things one takes for granted: the President's a moron, you don't tug on Superman's cape, the sun sets in the West, I finish meals. It wasn't even a BIG cheesesteak! I was just knocked-on-my-ass floored. Aaron & I come to the conclusion that this is why the terrorists hate us. Don't hate the playas, Muhammed, hate the game!

It is quickly decided to take the 5000+spin, and keep going and spit in the Whammy's face. We should get a picture. Aaron is lucky enough to have a cameraphone; I'm waiting out my contract for the free three-digit upgrade from V-Dub. We get them together for the picture (Aaron gets dibs, it's his technology allowing us to do this) and I suddenly for the first time in 90 minutes get a rush of blood to the head.

UPPER level.

I simply take a picture. But then suddenly, complaints. I didn't count to three first. So it's do-over time. This time I count it off.

Ladies and gentlemen, that's friendship.

As we get them to switch from him to me and we check the picture, Aaron is stunned at the easy brilliance of the plan. Extra picture, extra face time. An honest looking mistake, but so simple, so devious, and you get both pictures. They're back, and I get in the middle. It's all smile.

We stumble out into the day, dazed and confused by the waterfall of awesome luck we just passed under. It's dueling Admiral James Stockdale impersonations as we head back down the beach. Did that actually just happen? To a couple shlubs like US?! We're HOT?! I pass off what's left of the sandwich to a homeless guy in lieu of money without blinking. I suspected in my more egomaniacal moments, but getting outside confirmation from a reliable source...

"...the guy with the Warriors gear on, he's a 9."

Suddenly I get jolted back into the here and now by a bunch of cute white girls sitting on a deck at one of the aforementioned beach-houses has a masterstroke that will absolutely be stolen by us: they have a whiteboard and are ranking guys off as they pass. My ego, already severly inflated, starts heading to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade for the head spot in line.

It's really a beautiful day, the day you brag to those back east about: about 60, slight breeze but nothing too bad (thus the throwback), people having fun, people drinking it up, people blasting Biggie out on the block like it's Fulton in the BK, the sun setting...

...people playing Al Green's "Belle" out on the street.

In proper accordance with the day right across from us is a pack of hot sistas who I do a little back-and-forth with. Al Green, bitches. It IS Sunday, after all.

I'm still not entirely sure that happened. I keep looking over my back for wings.

Anyway, Saturday better get in the weight room, drink some eggs, do somethin', 'cause it's going to have a motherfuck of a time beating today.

(And yes, once we get the beachhouse, there's two names already marked off for the christening party...)

How apropo...

Ambient music: Jay-Z & the Roots - Big Pimpin' (unplugged)

I'd Like To Apologize For Being Boring

I'm sorry. Work's just been a nuisance but not the sort of nuisance that makes for good reading. ("Head up, check in hand", some anonymous man said once) My social life's just one big leadup to next Saturday's 26th b-day bash. Sure, I'm going to one of the best steak places in town, and the hottest club after that, but that's not for another week and a half. And I've foolishly applied my "no gifts the month before Christmas" mentality to this, meaning I have no wacky club stories or title defenses.

Maybe if I was still with the psycho killer qu'est-ce que c'est that would be a diversion before the jumpoff on the 5th but as it stands it's just a big fat expanse of time before I wild out with only minor speedbumps on a straight road.

Oh, I'm looking into renting a place in Pacific Beach for a week in the summer with Aaron so we can both drop out for a week and become beach bums. I'll probably be in for 3Gs but it'd be worth it. Especially if I can ever find a British midget who'll holler at bitches for us. Either way, just to confirm:

a) I am not dead.

2) The birthday party story, what parts I'll remember, ought to be epic.

Ambient music: Garbage - Only Happy When It Rains

Rosser Hot Fifteen

GONE:
"Let's Go", 5

15) U2, "Vertigo" (6)
14) T-Weaponz feat. Pitbull & Notch, "Mira Mira" (debut)
13) U2, "All Because Of You" (debut)
12) My Chemical Romance, "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)" (8)
11) Snoop Dogg feat. Pharrell, "Let's Get Blown" (debut)

10) Jennifer Lopez, "Get Right" (debut)
09) Ciara feat. Missy Elliot, "1, 2 Step" (7)
08) Franz Ferdinand, "This Fire" (10)*
07) Snoop Dogg feat. Pharrell, "Drop It Like It's Hot" (2)
06) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (debut)

05) Mario, "Let Me Love You" (debut)
04) Lloyd Banks feat. Avant, "Karma" (9)*

03) Jadakiss feat. Mariah Carey, "U Make Me Wanna" (4)*
02) Ludacris, "Get Back" (3)*
01) Lil' Jon & the Eastside Boyz feat. Usher & Ludacris, "Lovers And Friends" (1) [1m]

Ambient music: Big Wreck - Blown Wide Open

She Said, He Said

"I'm not coming--and you KNOW why."

"You might think I'm being dumb about this, but I'm a man who knows his history. Not just personal, but world history. And right now the only thing I can think about is Lincoln freeing the slaves--which means YOU DON'T OWN ME. You want to step off the crazy ledge, you have the number."

You know, out of all the large black objects I want to hit pretty girls with, the one at the end of my hand is Option B. But there you go.

We'll see if any more red ink gets spilled on this page...

Ambient music: #6, U2 - Vertigo

Vanessa Kay > Christy Hemme

Hopefully I'll have a picture in the next week for y'all on that score. Didn't think about Sophie all day long, which is probably a sign of something or other. Tomorrow night, more ASR & then hitting the club, possibly with an ASR girl or twelve. Got a few receptions to light flirting today.

This might be me having a hell of a time at the wake.

Ambient music: Eminem - Without Me

Jim Lovell To Mission Control

Y'know, I'm trying to ease off on being the five billionth rate Chris Rock, but then something like tonight happens and the only logical response is What the fuck is WRONG with you bitches?!

Anyway, after Ivan didn't want to go out, I called Sophia for the fiftyleventh time this week. Our schedules have been with our off days with the other working so it's been hell. Of course, got the machine. But after a bit she called me back. So things are going fine, and as I am doing with people, inviting them to my birthday party in a couple weekends. We're having a perfectly status quo convo until she asks who all is coming. And one of the names is Cristal.

Some of you are throwing things at your monitor right now. Screw you. We still get along, we're still friends, we were the poster children of Good Wholesome American Fun during our little bit together and I don't want to get back together with her, so it was only natural. Hell, I've invited all my other friends from work that'll come except the poor security bastards that're probably working. You can tell I'm very laissez-faire about this. Sophie hits the ceiling, and gets into this whole how'd-you-feel-if-I-invited-my-ex thing and I'm trying to explain to her just because your last boyfriend was a jackass doesn't mean you need to crucify me for his sins, and then she got pissed Cristal got an invite before she did.

Anybody else think it mattered Cristal was there when I got the idea and I wanted to tell Sophia over the phone voice-to-voice instead of the voicemail? Yeah, I didn't think so. Anyway, things got snippy, and she hung up on me. I almost called her right back but I've decided to hold off because I might say something I would regret. Like the fact she's wrong and I know it. So I'll just call her in a couple days--right after Action Sports on the comeback the next three days. Good thing she's not coming to that, she'd swear I'm cheating on her with some hot piece of ass or another. Fucking hell.

In the immortal words of John F. Kennedy at his inauguration, Fuck around and made her milkbox material--you feel me? Suck a dick, running your lips, 'cause of you I'm on some real fuck a bitch shit...

Ambient music: Xzibit - Hey Now (Mean Muggin')

Flip The Switch

www.butchrosser.net is up. Whether anything holds it but the blog--well, we'll see. Maybe some digicam stuff, wrestling subpage, I dunno.

Ambient music: Dave Matthews Band - Jimi Thing

Hi. My Name Is Shorty. I Think You Know What To Do.

• Season 3 Seinfeld DVD
• Garden State DVD
• Sin City poster (those of you who ask which one, hit the back button, you clearly, clearly are lost)
• Jadakiss - Time's Up
• One Fall by Spencer Baum
• Nirvana's box set
  
• an inappropriate shirt
• the new Christian or Ric Flair shirts
• Season 2 of Chappelle's Show (caveat: must be bought the day it comes out, as the next day is the b-day)
• Anchorman DVD
• money (don't be a sucker bitch and get me a gift card; if you're going to get me something impersonal straight cash will do)
• And, of course, the semi-weekly plea for Jessica Marie Alba (Amanda, you work in Hollywood, get busy)

Ambient music: Soil - Halo

Ambient music: Eminem, Obie Trice & DMX - Go To Sleep

Take a look. A long, good one.

For pretty soon this will all be gone. Pop culture cuisinarted, the peaks and valleys, the Christy Hemme Jihad--all washed away.

And all that will stand in it's place is www.butchrosser.net.

You have been warned.

We now return you to regular programming...

Rosser Hot Ten

GONE: "Encore vs. Numb", 7; "What You Waiting For?", 8

1. Lil' Jon & the Eastside Boyz feat. Usher & Ludacris: Lovers And Friends (4) [2w]
2. Snoop Dogg feat. Pharrell: Drop It Like It's Hot (1)
3. Ludacris: Get Back (3)*
4. Jadakiss feat. Mariah Carey: U Make Me Wanna (6)*
5. Trick Daddy feat. Lil' Jon & Twista: Let's Go (2)
6. U2: Vertigo (5)
7. Ciara feat. Missy Elliott: 1, 2 Step (10)*
8. My Chemical Romance: I'm Not Okay (I Promise) (9)*
9. Lloyd Banks feat. Avant: Karma (debut)
10. Franz Ferdinand: This Fire (debut)

Ambient music: Big Audio Dynamite - Rush

Everything Old Is New Again

Life is strange (yeah, life is strange)
What can I make myself be--faker?
To make her mine, yeah...
--R.E.M., "Crush With Eyeliner"

I've tried to start this twice, and not come close. So, let's give it another whirlaround the bend.

Friday night I was waiting for the goddamn shift to end. It was taking forever, and longer than ever because I was waiting to kick off my party. Around 7 I found a cell phone on a bench by one of the Starbucks. About 45 minutes later the owner came by to pick it up.

And not a damn thing has really made sense since.

As an end result, I've got a second date next week and a new possible girlfriend. (Am I suddenly ovulating at the outset of the year now or something? First Cristal last year, now...well, give me time, kids.)

When she walks up to me, my bear trap-like mind focuses in on something: this chick is TEH HAWT (™ Jason Kolt Incorporated). She's unusually focused on me, too, considering I'm in the SDCC Ohio Players horn guy/train conductor outfit, and asks if I picked up a phone from around here. Since I did, and that was the only one, I describe it accurately. She asks for it back and I realize that I had security take it, so I decide on the spot to apply all my training and be proactive and help her find her way back there to get it.

She's looking at me a lot, and I'm thinking a) she knows me or someone very much similar or 2) I have a boogie.

Not 2, so hurrah. Unless a) leads me to getting slapped and yelling about how she paid her own abortion. (My doppelganger is apparently fucking shady.) But we start walking back there in a completely unneccessary move on my part and she looks at my name tag.

"You ARE him!"

Then he braces himself for the hit...--Chris Rock

"You remember me?"

And I quit looking at her figure (which was TEH HAWT in a business suit, so you can believes that took some doing) and I look her in the eyes and start diving into the archives. I know I didn't know her any time in the recent past cause THAT I'd Remember and now we're talking at the same time.

Castle Park Elementary. And then, Castle Park Middle School.

She's Sophia Nava. Rhymes with lava. You can look under "hot as" for that last.

Here for a business dinner downtown with some fellow associates of a local Toyota dealership once they get done pimping '05s on the show floor behind me she leaves her phone and I find it.

Gets better.

I find out what she's been up to in the decade since I've seen her, and I tell her what I've been up to besides stunt doubling on Thomas the Tank Engine (drew a laugh), and I give her my number. Because of the party. I figured she might want to swing by. wotthehell, nothing ventured, nothing gained, to be bold is to go forth and all that. So she plugs me in, and goes to the dinner and I have my party and she doesn't show. Dirt off the shoulder, yeah?

Gets better.

Check my voicemail Saturday night, she left a message. So I call her back, and we talk a little, and I set up a small outing for a local sushi place for Tuesday. I don't really think deep into it, other than pleasant surprise.

This leads into the small informal outing.

A "date", if you're one of those assholes who have to name everything. It's been a while, but I'm oddly not nervous. I don't know why not, either, but I'm just very....Dude-like.

We get to the place and start rapping. She immediately scored some points with me by asking why I set this up with the Championship game almost running concurrently. I was thisclose to going "I loooooove football. But not as much as I love pussy."

Shout-out to USC for solidifying my choice, btw.

The date goes well. She's a little less gregarious than I am, but there's a lot of talking about our jobs and what we were up to all those years. We trade off tempura and sip sake and everything is going well until her phone goes off on a loud vibration.

She looks down, and sort of flinches/rolls her eyes. I say offhandedly, as I am foolishly trying to impress her with chopstick skills I don't have, who it is.

"It's my boahhhhhhheeeeeee."

And I says to her, "It's your what now?" and she's sort of realizing she is going to have to make a decision on the fly. I continue "Either you have an odd relationship with your sheep--which you need to tell me about--or there's something else you need to tell me about. Now."

Then he braces himself for the hit...

"Boyfriend."

WHAM.

"Well, I shouldn't say that."

Uh...erm...MAHW?

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?"

Sorry, Danny, she didn't finish the line. But she explains she was going out with this guy for a while, and he was sort of getting shady at the end and she thought he was cheating on her probably wants her back, et al.

"But forget about him."

So I do.

What a fucking lie. I do, but that doesn't come for a few more hours. We finish dinner, and chat a little more about how well things went. She says it's really something we've come together like this after all these years, and we both add some class to dating by cosigning neither one of us had a Fatal Attraction for each other because while friendly in the Way Back When, we weren't OMGTHAT"STHEONE! (I doubt I'd hit puberty by then. God, 2001 was a horrible year for me. Thank you, tip your veal, try your waitress.) But now we're here, and we say we're going to get together again--it can go either way at this point.

At which point...gets better.

We hug goodnight, and there's this awkward silence between us. Probably because neither one of us let go. I can't say who zoomed who, but someone leaned into someone and that led to us kissing for a bit.

It never occured to me, breaking awkward silences with kissing.

One hell of an icebreaker, though.

So we go our seperate ways and promise to call, etc., and then I get home and talk to my Cabinet about the next plan of action. I think it's a forward situation to move with a but attached. I get the same answers. 'Cause I got to know. As I put it, "I don't want to be a backup nigga." So I call her again. He's the ex. They just broke up, and this was her first time out. The verbal faux pax was her thinking of him that way before realizing he wasn't anymore and realizing where she was. She was surprised I called back so soon, thinking I was mad because the announcement stopped me from smiling.

I explain she mistook anger for confusion, just wondering where my place in the universe was.

Apparently, it's us getting together again next week.

Off a lost cell phone.

I think blood should've started shooting out of my ears by this point. I don't get it, don't want to get it, don't care if I ever get it. Now that's it's beginning to hit home, joy is starting to spread through me. That or a coronary.

...

...

..

.

It's joy! Success!

So I didn't want to say anything until the first was in the books, and then there was the subsequent "What're we gonna do now?" And now that I know, you have been informed.

*glares* CLAP FOR ME, BITCHES!

Ambient music: Jane's Addiction - Just Because

2005, FUCK YEAH

WOO

HA

ADDENDUM!:
Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth...

Broken Resolutions

DON'T fall in love with the Heineken in the champagne bottle.

DON'T walk around the fancy hotel lobby with the World Title hanging off your arm.

DON'T crash a wedding reception and be the only black guy in there.

DON'T do it again.

DON'T gloat when you run your friends down in ghetto Texas Hold'Em.

DON'T do the Christian kiss-two-lips-point-at-random-homies deal when you walk downtown--oh, yes:

DON'T walk around downtown New Year's Day with the World Title hanging off your shoulder.

DON'T encourage the drunks at the Irish pub by high-fiving them all and then pointing back yelling "SHOUT OUT TO MY PEEPS!"

DON'T finish the entire 1.5 liter Heineken champagne bottle.

Drat.

Ambient music: Monster Magnet - Live For the Moment