Happy Olympics and VD!

So much in the month of February! Love, Olympics, Presidents, Black History, White History oppressing Black History, my birthday, Snow in weird places in your britches, trips to Utah to find your LDS soulmate while killing yourself on a snowboard only to awake up drunk and alone in a hot tub…. Okay, well that’s for most people, but you are unique. Hugs and Kisses. So what to tackle? My birthday is next week, and that deserves a post unto itself; therefore….. Love and Olympics! First off, Russia… you need to go to my People and Change department and fix yoself. Who chose Sochi? Its 60 degrees! Sure, I have done stupid things for mistresses (looking at you Putin) but Damn son. Also, why did you insist on such tight clothing for the bobsledders? You know they go only one speed… but I thought the term was you’re your socks off.

Should have said no to that last dessert potato from the Sochi hotel… $hit… also drank the water. At least I chose wisely on the underwear. 

So the Olympics are going on, but I have no TV. Not that I am super upset, but its kind of Bull$hit as an American I can’t cheer my team on through the internet. There are Kenyans that have a village tv and they all watch for free… at least I think they do. I don’t know. Don’t care. Just gimme free TV!! How else will I question everything in my life while watching the paired figure skating and the dude does the credit card swipe hold on his partner envisioning the orgy that is the Olympic village? HOW?!?! Answer that Big Cable! You are bad as Big Tobacco… or Big Oil… or Big Lebowski. Fine, I take the last one back. Now… Valentines Day! The most commercial holiday ever invented by the CIA to keep rural teenage pregnancy high. I think I mixed history there, but it’s okay.

Don't know how you guys are planning on spending your holiday (Vday or presidents day... or the whole weekend), but I think these ladies got it figured out. 

 I could give you the normal excuses. It’s too commercial. Don’t tell me when to love. They don’t have steak and BJ day (March 14), so no Valentine’s day. My reason is simple. A. No one loves me. B. Its like NYE or any other holiday. I admit I’m privileged, I can go out, buy a steak dinner, a glass of wine, and not be swiping the EBT card next to the Clermont afterward. Valentine’s day is horrible because all the good restaurants become overcrowded. Big Restaurant (who looks like the hamburgler) knows this, so he just tries to turn tables as quick as possible to fill his fat oil soaked pockets with an overpriced prixe fixed menu that is easy to make, but lacks a certain jenesequa… yea, I said it, jenesequa, and your dad’s a whore. So, the whole holiday is horrible. Go out the day before, day after, just don’t go out or make a meatloaf cake for your live-in hipster lowlife landlord that won’t appreciate you for all the mannequin body parts you throw about the house (Ahhhh… now this feels like home).

Much like a hipster or anyone that takes biking to seriously... seems like a good idea, but dating Katniss? She gets you into all sorts of crazy shit, she is incapable of emotion, will shoot your ass, and loves someone else... how is this a good idea? Not saying I wouldnt... just saying, Normalcy can be nice.  A slice of apple instead of PCP. I tasted the apple, seems nice, stable, not going to cut me in my sleep.  

Or go out. Do what my buddy did a few years ago. His name is…. Not Mathew Mcconaughey. So MM  made a reservation for two at the nicest place in the AT (yeap, you caught me, waffle house), and sent a mass text out to not only every girl he was casually seeing, but to exes, their friends, Moms, daughters, friends that were nurses, morticians, you get the point. So, ordered a bottle of wine, and sat down. One walked in, lovely date till another showed, got angry and left, then another, and another. So this goes on for a while. He thought it was hilarious, but also didn’t get it on GOPRO; therefore, he is a liar that can’t be trusted. I just wanted it to end in a Mexican standoff. 

I fully believe all dates should end like this. But thats cause I'm akin to the machine that is Eastwood, so I can never lose. Especially with a cigarello hanging from my lip. Anyways, have a blast with VD ... Valentine's Day! Love ya'll! Really... I do, come find me, I'm all alone and its dark. Especially on this side of the moon. Damn that speculative Moon options derivatives market. 

Hothlanta and Snowmaggedon solved through the mysterious powers of consulting!

Hey everybody! I figured I would let the storm weather out in Atlanta before I posted another blog post. Okay, that’s a lie. I live in San Francisco. Its been beautiful, and honestly, if I wasn’t at work with my big boy panties on (read lacy boy shorts) I was out in the park… Grocery shopping. Whatever. Fact is its been 13 days. Far too long. On a side note, I actually started doing some real work, and thus my life got boring super fast. First, as a Star Wars fan, thank you for all the Hothlanta pictures. They tickled my tummy like a fine aged moonshine with burnt oak in the glass.

Welcome to Hotlanta where the TaunTauns play

And we ride on the T-16 like every day

Big lasers, set phasers, see troopers roamin

An ewok party don’t stop till death star is burnin

Also I know phaser is a Star Trek term, but F off, this $hit is hard.  I am going to combine the problems with Atlanta into a Consulting gig. What we have are several situations. We have supply chain management, Organizational change, people management, and other fun buzzwords that probably won’t get you laid during the Super bowl.

-          

My typical weekend date. I dont know if its the hair, beard, or constant crying and snizzling about my absentee kitty, but man, always getting destroyed. All of us! Maybe its a new cultural thing? You know where culture is not an indication of a serious serious problem. And yes, if its champagne or house wife wine... its not a problem, its a solution. 

First, supply chain. Guys. This happened in 2011. People were ice skating down peachtree. 2 in 3 years. Might be time to buy some infrastructure browskis. At least do a cost benefit analysis of the economy downswing due to time off from shutting down THE WHOLE F’N CITY  and the cost of a few snowblowers. In 2011 we had like 3 machines, now we have over 40. What was the problem? Sherman did a better job of melting the snow over 100 years ago. Granted… he also burnt my beloved home. Yeap. Screw you Sherman. Why couldn’t you just set Charlotte on fire? No one cares about that place. At all. Its not even hell, it’s a weird purgatory of bitterness and losership. But I digress.

The following is a quiz. This is either 

A. my friends in Atlanta during snowmageddon trapped at the office

, B. My Ex that hates the fact she chose charlotte and the carnie to live with

C. Me everyday under my desk avoiding my Manager. 

D. All the above, we are living in tears, wine, and work. 

We need policies in place. And don’t tell me they exist. Strip clubs have better policies (actually pretty strict ones if you think about it). Which comes organizational change! Hire GMs of strip clubs to be policy makers. I am just saying… this could be a game changer. And they would probably be less corrupt. Fine, you don’t want to hire my friends. Whatever. At least do the people management! Get a sister city in the north. Maybe a Canadian one. Then do a switch. They can have Kassim Reed, Nathan Deal, and Santa (cause he’s 'merican), and we can have whoever the hell is in charge of snow patrol. I still say we won.

Just think about what Atliens (people from Atlanta) could teach Canada! 

And then they will instantaneously teach the city how to fix the road system when we have 2, yes 2, inches of snow. 

Lastly, how do we pay for this? I mean the politicians bar tabs are so high as it is and lobbyists only have so much cash… well don’t worry. I got your back. Taxes. Don’t freak out.  I say we tax the hipsters. I don’t know why. It just feels right. Low income will cry foul, the rich pay taxes, so… I think hipsters should add to the economy. And no, buying Schlitz and flannels from ragorama don’t count as major contributions to GDP. Sorry. Now that people, is a motherf’n consulting roadmap.

Or we could just blow the mother up and start over. Just saying... I know a guy. 

An Option Trader's guide to love

Happy Fish Fry Friday everyone! MTFU or whatever you got to do to lube those wheels of inhibitions to get weird, wake up next to someone you don’t know, and live life! So, for the past few… lives… I have been Dionysius, so trying to take it easy. I feel like this is a good time though to help out my friends with the years of knowledge I have gained attempting to turn myself into a successful business and sociopath. So today’s short topic! Guide to the opposite sex for an options trader: Protective Put.

Listen to me. I am an OG. For realz. Bitches be like options ya hear. Puts, Calls, Strangles, Iron Reverse Condor. Bullish Long Spread, LEAPS. All options, all sex moves, all the time. Plus when have I ever led you people wrong?

First, an option is a bet (think roulette) on the price movement of a stock. When the ball stops on red 32, well that is the time limit on an option, 32 is the price the stock had to reach for you to make money (if a call), etc. Now there is a thing called a protective put, and this little beauty can be utilized in real life as well as your dungeons and dragons stock trading games (NERDS). This strategy is used to guard against the loss of unrealized gains (half of you just said WTF, stop, just stop, tell us about your love life… consulting, but stop). Anywho, let’s say you have a handle of fireball, the bar is about to be empty of fireball, so you can sell it to that schmuck on the row team for double the price. You heard through your buddy Dave that the some friend of a friend is on the way with tons more $hit, which would render your fireball worth… fireball. But there are DUI checkpoints, so he might get F’d, in that case, the bar runs out, and you can make it rain fireball, dance with the gogo dancer, kiss that cute, emo-looking angry chick, and be the master of the night, you know, the Nosferatu of fireball. But that Ahole is smart, and sometimes gets through DUI checkpoints, so you agree to sell it to Andy in an hour for a good price (still profit), and that’s a maybe. You even give him a shot as down payment. Fireball shows up! You sell to Andy, Andy is slightly f’d. Fireball doesn’t show up, You make it rain like Usher at a teen’s birthday party. Twerk.

Andy will probably say this to you, but its his own damn fault. F him. You made your money off that fireball in an honest and godly way. He can go back to his $hit life, with his $hit toaster over, his $hit friends... you never liked him anyways. Why is he even here? God... If we could just have one day a year where you could Machete people in the face... life would be complete. 

Now the reason for the explanation is that this can be used for meeting that “special someone.” You don’t want to go home alone, but you don’t want to go home with a troll. Below is the chart that will save your life, check it out. Love it, details are below.

Try to follow me... Pink is the girl you are going home with. Time&money is X-axis, Hotometer is Y-axis. There, you came thank me later for your troll free life. No more beer belly frat boys for you ladies and no more "I might be preggo, thats why I love eggo" ladies for the boys. 

Pink line is the potential mate for the evening, or true love, or whatever. Alright the pink line is not really negative where it flattens out, but a “normally acceptable” situation. You know, you have hooked up with her a few times, she’s nice, but it’s probably not going anywhere (or if you are a girl, same thing, but he is a commitmentphobe… I mean, you haven’t even met his kids yet).  The nice thing about the flat line though is that there is minimum effort. This is the drunk booty text, the “lets hang out and get Chinese food in our jammies cause we have nothing to prove to our self-loathing selves.”  You move up the line, dreamy mcsteamy / Christian bale but not violent / Depp but not Tonto / Kristen Bell / Elize Coupe / Betty White, the more time, money, and effort you have to put in. Don’t lie, we have all been there. You want the gold? Start swimming, you aren’t Phelps, he is built like the jolly green giant, so you have to bring other attributes to the table. Like thigh high stockings. Old school style, Corsets, for guys: Suspenders, hipster hat, champagne. Also let me point out Attractiveness is not just physical. We are talking about your perfect soulmate (okay not really, but I don’t want judgment). So there you have it. I basically told you to keep a backup, and then make it rain in the club. You just read over 800 words of jibberish. But we spent some quality time together. Aren’t you happy? Also, watch out for the time decay of options. That $hit can kill any moment. 

Alright He-man, you have the power. What you gonna do? Ready for the weekend? Ready to ride? Rough ride or die like its the 90's! 

Selling out: The real definition

Alright it has been two weeks since I made a post, so back on the wagon. Actually, I was taking a short break. 2014 is kicking me pretty hard socially and physically (but never work load haha). Going down an uncertain path I didn’t really feel like writing about. Okay fine, there was that, but honestly I have been drinking way too much, not doing anything interesting, and wondering how it’s possible for me to watch 3 movies a day while “at work.” There you happy? You made me cry.

In line with today's topic. I might not be a good person, but I am sure as hell better than you... dick.

So anyways, I think there is time for a serious blog post. I was giving advice to a friend (fine frenemy… double fine an ex), as she was having issues with her live in boyfriend. Basically, they didn’t like their lifestyle. I mean we don’t need to be shining like diamonds, but you know, premium toilet paper is a plus. She discussed the idea with him of studying hard, getting an MBA, and getting a 6 figure job. You know, bettering yourself. A huge fight erupted followed by disappointing love making (also in my imagination, he is a midget that rides tricycles around the house). Basically, he apologized for not being me (but do we really need the whole world apologizing for not being me?), and said life was his fault that now his woman (also he is a masochist in my head. A lap dog masochist… I know, makes no sense) was going to go to school, sell out, work for the man, to achieve the wanted lifestyle. Sell out. Work for the man. Words he actually utilized. Basically, to be me. Hate to tell you Jack-off. Working hard, getting a good job, is not selling out. It’s actually the selfless thing to do. And I will explain later. First though, Frack you (nerd love). You call me a sell out, and I call you a pathetic excuse for a hippie that no person could ever love, much less an intelligent god, or a woman… or a goldfish, and those fishes have like 5 second memories or some shit.

This is your life. Hopefully literally, but I will accept metaphorically as well. 

Where do people get off telling someone not to better themselves through education? I get the do what you love thing, but seriously, you repair tricycles in the Carolinas… you aren't exactly Survivorman or Into the Wild. You aren't even on Xgames. You don’t even competitively do what you love for a living. My friends that work at the plant are more in line with me than you. Cause you don’t really work. Do anything. Blue collar and white collar people hate you. Doing what you love, living off your parents, and not preparing for the future is what I consider to be selfish. You basically are a prick. What about your future family? What about taking care of your parents? What about siblings? Loved ones? Do you have any idea how much it costs to raise a kid? 143,160, and dude… that’s without perks, in rural areas where the kid will turn out as Shitty as you . Let’s add some things… say, you know, that my kid would get. Top private school education for high school. Hopefully the au pair can grant some knowledge on Bordeaux before then haha.  The best school in Atlanta (can’t even imagine San Francisco at this point) was around 24,000 a year. 96,000. I don’t know man… you might have to sell your Trek bike to pay for that…. That’s not even college. The average cost for an Ivy League education is around 50,000 a year. 200k. Do you even know what the K means Asshat? At a minimum, rural area, with a chance for your kid to actually do something great with his/her life (think Obama or Bush or Margaret Thatcher... or any character from the show Royal Pains)… you are looking at half a million.

My kid bad, my kid good, my kid got ROI that ya kid wish she could.

 Props if you get the above reference. ATL can you hear me?!? So yea. I’m a sell out for working my ass off for my future family. Well as you are… I don’t even know what you are doing. You honestly should just call it quits. On life. Or go full hippie. That’s the only real point that my friend (ex… whatever) could make. Was that if I wasn't being super awesome successful guy, I would be making documentaries in Cambodia. I tried. I applied for the Fullbright scholarship when I was 22 to document demonic possessions across the world. Didn’t get it. So… yea, guess that investment in my future is really selling out. … Bottom line. If you work for the man, sold out, etc. then really you are doing it right. The pathetic people calling you that are just placing rose colored glasses on because if they didn’t, they would hang themselves. Which, might be a less drag on the economy, but again, they are selfish. Alright got that out of my system. Everyone work hard! Better yourself! Love life! But most of all… sell out!

This is your future daughter. She told me her name was Trixie. This is what she does for a dollar, imagine what I can get her to do for a Toaster Oven? Sleep on that. 

2014 is already trying to kill me. You couldn't wait... 4 seconds?

#1 resolution: Sneeze during an orgasm

Happy 2014 everyone! Thank god that Biatch 2013 is dead and gone. I didn’t even go to her funeral. I did however throw a full moon party on her grave the following Saturday with all my rave friends… cause that’s what we do in consulting. Raves. When we aren’t doing excel. Molly and excel. That will take you to new heights.  So new year. New adventures right? Well like 99% of America, I have new year’s resolutions. I know. I’m perfect. No need to change. Yada yada Scooby Doo. But we can always tweak perfection. Just look at Katy Perry’s plastic surgeon. Also, she looks a little like Jay Leno. Which I find hot. Maybe that needs to change… anyways, here we go! My second resolution was to take a step back, and just meditate on myself. Can you tell I moved to San Francisco? Truthfully, my recent foray into the House of Lies career and social life has taken a toll. I worry about crow’s feet, I think there is grey in my stubble, and my back hurts. That being said, what a hell of a roller coaster ride. So, I told my friends, I am taking a sabbatical. My body needs to rest. I’m going to be a good kid. Then when the countdown happen, it all went to $hit. I swore 2014 would be the year of Johnny, not Johnny finding love, Johnny working hard, Johnny doing anything. Just me.  A calm in the storm of life, but as usual, Life has other plans. So… yeap 2014, already quite the adventure. Met a nice girl, available I think, but of course, like a beacon, there are issues to overcome. Big ones. One’s I have no control over. So excited. F&ck these resolutions. Go for the gold. I’m back! Sorry… I knew you were worried. I will let you all know how this adventure down the rabbit hole goes. I would be more specific, but yea, the internet is fickle and seems to get my ass in trouble. One love people! I was gone for .001 seconds, then a new years kiss, long night, cuddling, hand holding (wear gloves people), and BOOM, back bigger than before.

This is why I shouldn't venture outside my apartment. Because this happens.... who is excited for 2014?!?

I remember being new at consulting. In this job, you have to “hotel.” You get to work, log into a machine. MACHINES! Then you slowly type a bunch of crap in until Skynet assigns you a cubicle. The problem is… most people don’t pay attention to that $hit. As a noob, you follow the rules. Then when you get to work you realize someone jacked your cubicle for the day but you are too new to say a thing. Not anymore Son! First resolution done. Kicked that girl to the curb and utilized her tears as coffee creamer.

Not my resolution. Give me a reason to be excellent to you and we will see. Until then…. Give me tribute. Also... we have eerie similar hair... I'll let you guess which one. 

Next on the list. More human interaction. I know, I probably need to stop that type of human interaction, my freezer is getting full of heads, but I meant just in daily life. Like the bus. I ride the Muni to work. The meat market bus. Yet, everyone stares at the screens on their phone. Our bus is filled with beautiful boys and girls people. Stop swiping right on tinder and Look up. I am right here! My commute is like the Buckhead Church of public transportation.  Put down your screen, take a look around. Soak it all in. Make eye contact. Now stop. That was too long and you are creeping me out. Also overall, I think I will just stop caring. It’s champagne and vicuna coats from here on out. If the girl is too old for me? I don’t care. I rallied at the end of 2013, but didn’t reach the finish line. Seriously, these women looked younger to me, and I am a dashing jake gyllenhaal type… with excessive body hair. Whatever. Shut up. Maybe instead of not caring, I should make my resolution to find what these women do to stay beautiful. Seriously, they look like they wake up and drink embalming fluid*. Thanks to Windy for that reference.

Probably not the answer to youthfulness... Also, looks like my NYE kiss. Yeap. Winner, winner chicken dinner. More than you know. Always had a crush on this actress too, so double win. Triple win. Double down KFC style heart attack. Thug life. See you punks in 2014! Get excited, or scared. 

Xmas suffers blunt force trauma from NYE: Still on loose.

As promised. 2 posts in one week? Christmas come early? Christmas in your mouth (a shot of fireball and whynatte… delicious and sanitary). I’m back with New Year’s revolutions… errr. Resolutions. Nope. First one. I am taking over! Anyone else want to negotiate? If you are a beautiful woman and you got that reference, I love you and think we should probably investigate the world together over a period of… say… the rest of our lives.

Funny... this is how my first dates usually end when I am asking about the second date... I have no idea why I am single. Is it the bleach blonde hair? I probably was better as a brunette... yeap.  that has to be it. 

New Years resolution: Write more about consulting. Is this a dating blog? A consulting blog? Pure comedy? A tradegy that is my life? I don’t know, but I do know my business school professors aren’t reading this $hit, so I need to write more about consulting. And buzzwords. Maybe a combo of consulting and the women of consulting… we can have a calendar. Give it to our clients. Value add and bird dog that boys, we have a winner! Okay that is the first one, the rest are personal, and not. Whatever. Stream of consciousness. An occurrence at Owl creek bridge.

Hey. Let's be honest with each other. I am not going to change. Just like you aren't going to admit the worst mistake of your life was not attempting to impregnate me. Its okay. Stop crying. We have all been there. Also, when you get a chance, can I have some more ketchup? Thanks! What? I can't have children? WHY WOULD YOU SAY I'M BARREN?!?! Oh... lack of womb. Gotcha. 

Next Revolution! Learn from me, do as I say… not as I do. I am attempting to no longer date women in the service industry, and no not “that” servicing industry… sickos. I am not going to date women in the restaurant industry. The majority (read… 99.9% I have met) are either self-sabotaging, dumb, addicts, or possess severe mental issues… or a combo of all (my fave). Sure they are hot, but there are more perils than an Indiana Jones movie. They will resent you for what you are, brilliant, or not recognize because their eyes are covered in gunk from the grease. Whatever the case, there will not be acceptance. They will either hate you for your career, or resent you for it. Luke… you know this to be true. Anytime you make a suggestion, you will “be coming down on them.” It’s like calling a girl crazy for a guy. Immediate awesome defensive technique. If you really thought they were crazy, you sure as hell wouldn’t tell them. And if you did, it would be in a padded room with a fat doctor Phil look alike with a sedative two feet away ready to be plunged into that Bitches neck.

Alright guys. We can do better. Better defense mechanisms than "you're crazy." I think the female population is catching on. Then we will have to make it an endgame scenario where you do have to plunge a needle in their neck, make a kill room, kill them, dispose of body, and fool everyone around you that you aren't a psychopath. Doesn't that seem like too much work? Just say something else. Like "You just never listened to the teachings of General Mao! You will never understand!" See? Boom. You are out of whatever trouble you got yourself into. Cause... now they think you are communist.*

*Not guaranteed to work on the Chinese  

Back to restaurants… I can hear the thunderous roar from the women in the industry now. You elitist A-hole, yuppie, hating, baby eating, but incredibly irresistible… then they trail off cause they saw something shiny. Don’t hate. I worked at BK for like 8 years. I am speaking from experience and am almost at a statistically significant sample size at this point (not sex mind you. Don’t want all you people out there thinking I am some dirty Casanova or something. I’m talking dates, dating, holding hands. Wear a glove). Every time I have dated someone in the industry, it has gone wrong (personal). My buddy, Windy only dates doctors, lawyers, and those people. “You people” seems like a good idea. Not being snobby, I am being realistic. At this point you speak a different language. They speak whatever hell their language is, and we speak consultant. It’s the same as trying to date a girl from Prague that doesn’t know a lick of English. Basically a mail order bride concept. Not saying you are better, just saying the distance is too far to cross. The chasm too great for an honest, wonderful relationship where people see us as the relationship personification of Bambi. So recently (yesterday. let’s be honest), I decided not to date in that industry anymore. That basically leaves me finance (ew), consulting (don’t tip the company pen / I hope I have a job in 2 months / maybe the best option / please don’t tell HR), retail (envisioning same problems), tech (are there girls in tech?), or mining… so if you know a coal miner’s daughter that can swing a sweet axe. Send her my way.

See. Not a coal miner nor a restaurant worker. However, she only shows up every 5,000 years. Damn. I got free time in like 30? No? Well, too be honest all I wanted to do  is watch you vacuum out your car… in yoga pants. (thanks Crowbar for the line of the day) #MTFU

My suggestion for a new year’s resolution for you. Stop Sexting and Dick pics. As men we love pictures sent to us. This is life. The female form is beautiful. Look at all the famous art. Men, not beautiful. When the paragon of beautification was invented eons ago, it was a woman that was the result. That is why the words beautiful and pretty, feminine words, roll off the tongue like a sexy fondue date next to a fire pit on the skin of a wolf carcass, while handsome, masculine sounding word, sounds like a bag full of baby walruses getting slammed by a German with a sledgehammer while screaming the lyrics to Evita  = not pretty.  Science. Fact.  So, don’t do it. Anyways, if you are a guy, you normally don’t want to send one of yourself (under the assumption you will be super successful like Representative Weiner one day), so you do your best to fool them. So it needs to be close. But then you are that guy on the computer looking at penis pics all day. Probably at the office. And tasha noticed you. $hit, she has a big mouth. It’s not what it looks like, but she is going to go ahead and tell the whole office your obsession with d1cks. Dammit. This is why you don’t sext, and definitely not as an adult.

Same for sexting. Best be ready to show the world. Just think about how much fun public sex is... is that a reason to sext? Hell no. That means go outdoors and get freaky. Too cold? Is there a hot tub? can we zip our snow jackets together to form some sex caterpillar stance while rolling around on the ground? Winter is coming... which they all freak out about but from watching the show it just means sex in caves with hot springs. Hell yea winter, hurry up brother. 

Finally:

And if you are a guy, don’t work out more. I already have enough competition with naturally fit people and these Googlites running around making it ran as they pop bubbles on their pocket protectors. So just don’t. Girls? Go for it, but to be honest. It’s all in the diet.

I just needed a reason to post this. It makes me giggle. Also, very reminiscent of my running style in Crissy Field.

Consultant Christmas Party Shenanigans and NYE resolutions

Ten days from the last post? I am sorry to deprive you people! I am sure you were wallowing in a gutter constantly checking your iphones. Maybe the signal is lost? Maybe Johnny died? Maybe the Iran's Revolutionary Guards got him? Nope. Just been busy, actually not at all. Just tired, recouping, in a bio-medical bath like Luke. So. Here. We. GO! 

Happy religious holidays everyone! Tis the motherf’n season! Whether you are Jewish, Christian, or something I don’t really know (read don’t care) about, this is the time of year for celebrations. And what are celebrations without bubbles? A recent friend of mine is amazed at my love for champagne, and that it warms her heart and makes her smile when she thinks about how much my infatuation for the bubbly continues. Same as my crush on Kristen Bell. It will never end. You can’t have a bad day on champagne. Wake up? Mimosa. Good to go. Bad day, champagne toast that you are the greatest human being ever. Even if it just you, alone, with the bottle, in front of the mirror, with no clothes on. Whatever. Don’t judge me.

Some people compare me to Hank. Great looking, creative, irreverent, and in complete and utter denial. Just saying... he might have Karen, but he also has a kid and a drug problem. I have no kid (please, god, no) and no drugs in my system (today), anyways I prefer the champagne. I might not have Karen, but I'm calling this one. Johnny: 1 Hank: 0! Halftime! 

Let’s be honest about what I am. An eccentric, borderline crazy idiot savant, that goes on random tangents that are funny, creative to the financial world that dances on legality, that knows tons of weird stuff…. How I am not a billionaire, I don’t know. I'm like Mark Cuban… without the money or boyish good looks. God he is so hot right now. Just beat up the SEC. Any…who… as consultants (see that DEEP transition right there?), we have to play the cards right on a semi-consistent basis. We want to play the game like Omar, take as much as we can, and try not to get shot by a nine year old, or in our cases, someone with the IQ of a nine year old (haven’t seen the Wire? Then F you. You don’t deserve to watch it without spoilers… seriously; it’s a really old show at this point). Back to the holidays, back to consulting, apple butter… words. My company Christmas party was Saturday. I would say epic, but merely that was what we made it. A beer, wine only bar a party doesn’t make. But they had champagne, so I give them a pass.

How a real party should be. I call dibs. She's so misunderstood. No one likes her cause of her caustic attitude. Yeap, definitely no one would ever hit on her in school... I love romcoms. And health ledger. And consulting. 

Well, this guy Johnny Consultant. Didn’t have a date. I know right? Hard to imagine with my feminine good looks and pudgy body (wait… rugged good looks and ripped body! Dammit!). At the last moment I convinced a co-worker from a different office to join the posse since we haven’t seen her in forever. Besides that my evil intentions were to see if there was any underlying googley eyes possible. She is wonderful, absolutely gorgeous, intelligent, and… completely unavailable. Boom! At this point I think I might actually be on the Truman Show. Can we get to the season where I find someone dammit?! I want that saved by the bell wedding in Vegas! Except not in vegas. Maybe in a church in the mountains overlooking Eastern Europe. Whatever.  A girl can dream right? Possibly at this point I need to clarify to people that don’t actually know me that I am male. With male parts. And a desire to be with a female. Good? Alright. Moving on people.

Pretty much sums it up. Don't worry, the night is darkest before the dawn. Actually, I'm pretty sure that is scientifically incorrect. F&CK YOU SCIENCE. Also, I cry at night listening to Jack Johnson and eating Rocky Road ice cream. I don't even like ice cream. I just heard it was catnip for ladies. 

Anyways, I didn't epically crash and burn (epically is not a real word. Like my life). She was super sweet and let me down like a gentle baby in the manager (tits the season after all... haha! child humor!). Which… obviously made me like her more. Crap! Back to the point. I have come up with some New Years resolutions for myself (not real ones as I intend to break everyone, and possibly a bone or two). First one. Stop caring. Oh you thought I didn't already? You ain't seen $hit yet. Two: Stay Sober one day on the weekend. Not a problem. I am just tired. Instead of spitting game, I literally have been spitting as I try to talk to women. A good first impression this does not make. I have others, you will see them in the next blog post. This is just the start. It’s a revolution. Buffalo soldier. Stuff. Penguins and Ostriches.  Also, if a girl isn't available. Maybe… just maybe… you should look elsewhere? And… there is the first break. Talk to ya’ll soon! 

Thanks for letting me vent people. And by vent, I mean wearing a vented tuxedo ready to MTFU and take over the world one perfectly planned devious plot at a time. Also.. Another reason to cut back, the massive amount of ribs I have been eating. Why doesn't Drunk Johnny love celery, juicing, and ab workouts?!?! WHY?!?!