The Weekend Is Over and Today Is Monday: A Story of Survival

June 27, 2011

To be honest, I have no idea why the title of this post is so dramatic.

It kind of got a way from me. I should title it something about the weekend being over, but I need to make it catchy. Let’s go for the Lifetime movie of the week subtitle following the colon to really seal the deal. That was a lot of “ea” in a row. Anyway, how was my weekend? What did I do this weekend?


It is none of your God damned business!

Actually, I drank a lot of beer like a lot of it. Like I was on the most ill advised diet plan where my only source of calories comes from beers. I also watched pretty much all of those fights. I didn’t watch the Strikeforce fights because I was visiting friends and they’re too cheap to get Showtime for one night when I come to visit. I mean really! So, we settled for watching the fights on Saturday night while I tweet tweet tweeted for @MTVClutch. Then on Sunday I came home and watched the UFC fights in all their splendid wacky insanity that they were.

In between all of this, I drank so many Shock Top Belgian white beers. I had seen someone else recently drinking those bad boys at a barbecue I was at and I respect said drinker’s opinion drinking, so I bought a case. Solid stuff. If you like the Belgian White as in you like Hoegarrden or however you spell it then try out Shock Top. It is from Missouri I believe and it was a nice premium styled beer, but definitely light and citrusy enough to be a summer style beer. I imagine you can also go all Blue Moon or Hoegarrden with this beer and pour it into a glass and slice up an orange or a lemon into it, but that is a lot of work and a lot of produce for a guy like me who is attempting to drink a case of it to my dome.

Also, I played miniature golf. Yep. Hadn’t played mini-golf in years, but ended up playing it on Saturday. There’s a nice park with a mini-golf course in it right in center city Philadelphia. There’s a fountain as well. It’s a nice spot. Of course, our main attraction was the golf course, the mini-golf course. We even put a little wager on it. The loser must eat dirt. … … Well, we revised that after a minute of thinking about it and remember how close to 30 we are and that just doesn’t seem like a wager you put on a mini-golf game between late 20’s gentlemen. The overall loser pays for dinner. The 1st place loser who came in second overall pays for post-mini-golf ice cream. Yeah, that’s right. Three late 20’s guys were out in center city Philadelphia on a weekend in the sunshine playing miniature golf followed by some delicious ice cream. Try and make fun of that!

You know what? You can’t!

What are you going to do? Call us gay? Gay?! When have gays ever been known for being miniature golf enthusiasts? Never. Oh, are you going to try and make a joke that gays love sticking their balls into holes? That joke doesn’t even make that much sense. Do you have a concept of how gay sex works? Unless the hole is the one guy’s mouth then that happens for a period of time until they get back to putting the penis section of the penis back into the hole. Secondly, if you are thinking that the one guy sticks his balls into the other guy’s butthole hole then that definitely doesn’t happen on any regular percentage among gay men having sex. Seriously, that one guy would have to have the stretchiest butthole ever. And the other guy must have forgotten that he really doesn’t get too much pleasure out of sticking his balls into things nearly as much as the other part of his penis known as the penis. So, that joke doesn’t make any sense. There are a set of activities that gay men take part in on such a regular basis that it has become part of their stereotype – Broadway shows, dance clubs, decorating, shopping, putting another man’s penis inside of themselves. As far as I remember, unless that ice cream was roofied, we did not do any of the previously mentioned.

If you said – mini-golf is lame. You’re an idiot. Mini-golf is not lame. Who are you trying to fool? Do you think anyone is impressed with your “mini-golf is lame” comments? Because they are not, mainly because no one shares that particular sentiment.

So, that’s what happened.

Also, there was a wedding at the mini-golf course. This only adds to my list of “random ass places I have seen weddings at in Philadelphia”. I saw two weddings at Pat’s Cheesesteaks when I lived in Philly. For people who don’t know Pat’s, imagine a food truck that serves Cheesesteaks 24 hours a day. Now imagine that food truck had no tires and was stationary on a cement island. Now imagine that cement island is made an island because on all sides it is surrounded by the piss of a 1000 drunk Philadelphians. That’s Pat’s.

If anyone takes you to Philly and says they are going to get you a “real Philly cheesesteak” and you wind up at Pat’s and Gino’s on the corner of Passyunk and I think 8th or 9th then that person has brought you to the shittiest two cheesesteak places in Philadelphia. I mean they’re both famous, but not because they have good cheesesteaks. They’re famous because they’re open 24 hours, they’re across the street from each other and people fight there because they’re usually shit faced drunk. Also, it’s pretty cheap. But their cheesesteaks are pretty garbage. It’s more of an experience than fine dining.

Anyway, that was random. I’m biased, but I think the best cheesesteak is Larry’s on 54th and City line. I may be biased, but that is easily one of the best cheesesteaks in that damn city. People like Tony Luke’s and they’re good. People like Jim’s, but again that is more of a tourist trap than a great cheesesteak. They don’t melt the cheese in that place – what kind of savages don’t melt cheese? It only takes a second or two. Of course, you can always go to Barclay Prime in Rittenhouse square and get the $100 cheesesteak that is topped with a lobster tail and comes with a small bottle of champagne.

Fuck… now I want a cheesesteak.

Let’s end this post on a lighter note…

I read this article on Yahoo the other day –


Generally, speaking I initially thought the #1 killer of men would be WOMEN and the #2 killer of men would be OTHER MEN. But I was wrong… or was I? I feel like all these “killers” can be indirectly related to either women or eating too many cheesesteaks. This is just a theory, but go with it.

#5 – Stroke

Apparently, dudes under 45 are having strokes too, which isn’t good news. It has a lot to do with blood pressure apparently.

What raises a guy’s blood pressure the most? Women. Women get all crazy and get paranoid and get into fights with their completely innocent men and that drives the man’s blood pressure through the roof causing him to have a stroke at an early age. Also, eating a lot of cheesesteaks raises your blood pressure because your blood is clogged with cheesesteaks.

#4 – Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease – COPD

I’m sure you’ve seen all those commercials about talking to your doctor about COPD. It’s pretty much you dying from smoking. And we all know why men smoke? Women. Women want a cool guy/bad boy and who is the cool guy/bad boy – the Marlboro Man. So guys are smoking to look cool because they want to get the ladies. Also, once they get the ladies the ladies are crazy, so then they need to smoke more cigarettes to get some relief from all the craziness. This is making it a race between COPD or stroke to kill the man quickest. As for cheesesteaks, eating a good cheesesteak is about as satisfying as sex, so after a good cheesesteak you may need to have a smoke.

#3 – Accidents

Accidents? Accidents, you say? I call that booby traps. And booby traps are called that because women have boobies and they were the ones who set the traps. These are all ingenious traps that women have set-up to kill a man or many men. And it’s really just that simple. Guys don’t simply fall from ladders or get into car crashes from a tire blowing out… The woman rigged the tire and ladder to fail at the most destructive moments and that is why those men are dead… God have mercy on their souls. As for cheesesteaks, the more you eat cheesesteaks the more prone you are to dying from an accident. If you eat a cheesesteak you are sluggish. You are not moving at 1/2 speed in every area of your body including your brain. Your neurons are firing at 1/2 speed meaning you are more susceptible to a woman’s death trap.

#2 – Cancer

No one knows the cause of cancer… so it’s women. They cause it or they create with their witch magic. It’s something as simple as that. As for cheesesteaks, they taste so damn good they have to be cancerous. I guess what I’m saying is that the women of this world invented cheesesteaks.

#1 – Heart Disease

Well, the cheesesteak thing is pretty obvious. Cheesesteaks are the kryptonite of hearts.

As for women, they wear down a man’s heart. I believe it is not so much heart “disease” as much as it is a “broken heart”. Men just give so much love to their ladies and their ladies just ask for so much more and then stomp on it that it breaks men’s hearts. It is really a tragic tale.

So, Happy Monday you man killers.

Eat a cheesesteak. I so want a cheesesteak.

What did you do this weekend?



7 Responses to “The Weekend Is Over and Today Is Monday: A Story of Survival”

  1. tiffanized said

    I hope you were not being facetious when you asked what I did this weekend, because I’m going to tell you. I killed a turtle. It was awful, unintentional and traumatic. I’ve had trouble sleeping since it happened. I had to get the neighbor to move it for me because I was so upset, at which time he reminded me that the last time I asked for his help was to move a dead cat (which I didn’t kill). I accidentally watched the USA vs Mexico soccer game Saturday night at a Mexican restaurant, where the people were rooting for USA too because they were actually Guatemalan and kind of pissed at Mexico. We left because the restaurant was closing at 9:30. The score was 2-0 USA when we left and by the time we got home ten minutes later it was tied. I fell asleep for the part where Mexico won, waking up in time to watch “Mrs. Doubtfire” in Spanish, which I highly recommend. Sunday night I went out to drink Victory Golden Monkey. I also like Lagunitas Gnarlywine. My beer selection process has nothing to do with taste and everything to do with cheapness-to-ABV ratio. I like a lot of the Lagunitas beers, too, not for taste but for their creative naming.

    I went to Philadelphia for an hour one time and ate at Pat’s and Geno’s. They are both cheesesteak Nazis. God forbid someone hasn’t worked out what they want when they get to the window–no cheesesteak for you! Though I understand this because there are like six options and the line wait time is ridiculous so you should be able to get your shit together by order time. There are separate windows and lines for buying drinks. You buy your cheesesteak, pay (cash only because for some reason no one can run a credit card north of Delaware), then get in a separate line for drinks and/or fries. And if you are at Geno’s you better order Freedom Fries because if you mention the French you end up being called a socialist and having an American flag shoved up your butt. It is also unwise to have a Pat’s drink cup at Geno’s or vice-versa. I wish they emphasized table cleanliness the way they enforce cup purity.


      In New Jersey, you’re required to complete 6 hours of driving with an instructor before you can get your permit. So, at 16, I was out on my first hour driving ever, and I was on a narrow and windy country road with no shoulder. And a turtle was right there in my wheel path, and traffic was coming the other way. So I couldn’t swerve. And the instructor told me I had to just hit him. But it was summer and the windows were down, so it was extra super traumatic. Everyone thought it was so funny and bought me turtle shit for years and years afterward which I think means I have some pretty fucked up friends and family…

  2. I almost mini-golfed this weekend, too – family tradition and whatnot – but couldn’t find a decent course. Because we’re snobs about mini-golf. I got ice cream anyway though. I also got pelted on my person with a thousand dead stink bugs propelled by a fan, so it was good times all around.

    I’m certainly glad I don’t like the ladies, what with their murderous triflin’ ways and all. But I like cheesesteaks. And now I’m really hungry for one and can’t have one so that’s super.

  3. PWG said

    I drive with the understanding that if anything smaller than an elk presents itself to my front grill, it should haul ass or make peace with its Maker. I will brake. I will definitely brake, but I will not swerve because I am not eager for the afterlife or a wheelchair. Also, if you’re going to hit an ungulate you should brake hard and then right before contact let up on the brake so your front bumper lifts a bit. Less chance of shoveling hot bloody deer into your lap. My mother once hit a mountain lion with a long hood Gran Torino station wagon.

    On an equally horrific note, I remember driving through a tarantula migration once, dozens of them moving across the highway at the same time. You know why they do that? It’s because the male tarantulas don’t live with the females and they were crossing the highway to get to the women-spiders. So maybe you’re right, after all. Damn females.

    Congratulations on your mini golf win.

  4. Nix said

    I did not have cheesesteaks. I had homemade lasagne. It was good, really good. I had three helpings (they were small helpings ‘kay). BUT I WANNA CHEESESTEAK!!!!

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