Cinco de Mayo

Ah, yet another fake holiday that we all get to celebrate. Because lord knows, we don’t have enough of those…

Cinco de Mayo. English translation: The fifth of May. (and “cinco de dos” does NOT mean may 2nd)

It is a holiday that celebrates Mexican heritage and pride, and it commemorates the Mexican army’s unlikely victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, under the leadership of General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguín (thanks, Wikipedia!)

Which is all well and good. I have no problem with that. when’s the last time the Mexican Army ever won anything? Might as well cherish a victory from 150 years ago.

But, alas. Everyone takes it upon themselves on this day to become an honorary Mexican. Just like that god forsaken St. Patty’s day where everyone pretends they are irish.


“Hey guys, it’s Cinco de Mayo! We gotta celebrate! Let’s go drink some margaritas! Yeah, we’re fucking unoriginal!”

If I had the free time today, I would have headed over to my local grocery store and just stood patiently in the alcohol section. Whenever I saw anybody step in and pick up a box of Corona’s, I would approach them and say:

“Hey, before you make that purchase, you should know something.”

They would say: “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

Me: “You’re a fucking douchebag!”

Ugh. I hate so many things.

But, what can you do? Douches will be douches.

Happy Cinco de Mayo everybody! NOT.

Where’s Waldo?

What a fucking life this guy lives.

Walking around with his doofy glasses and hat and his traveler’s purse, and yet he’s been all over the goddamn world.

Where does Waldo get all the fucking money?

Either he:

1)      Inherited it.

2)      Stole it.

3)      Prostitutes his body for money.

Because there’s no fucking way he actually earns it. Although he always loses one of his items with every trip, so maybe he just pawns something off to pay for his next stop. But I don’t think that selling one shoe would be able to pay for an entire cross-country flight.

Inheriting would make sense. He’d be like the male Paris Hilton and just become a professional socialite. Just travels the world, and can probably get into any VIP room at any club in the world. Can you imagine how much sex that guy probably has? I bet he even keeps a list of all the celebrities he’s been with.

Angelina Jolie?

Waldo fucked her.

Jessica Alba? Megan Fox? Jennifer Aniston?

Waldo’s done them all. And he doesn’t even let them stay the night. As soon as he’s done, he kicks them out of their OWN bed.

And as soon as Abigail Breslin and Dakota Fanning turn 18, I’m sure Waldo will fuck them also.


Again, what a life that guy lives. I can’t even imagine how many illegitimate little Waldo’s there are running around in this world.

And he doesn’t even have to find anyone himself, when you’re Waldo… people seek you out.

I’m fairly amazed that the whole red and white striped shirt and cap look hasn’t caught on more in this country. Sure people do it on Halloween, but Waldo rocks that shit every damn day.

Madonna, Cher, and Rihanna all think they’re the shit because they go by one name. But there’s only one legitimate one-named person in this world, and it’s Waldo. He doesn’t even have a legal last name unlike those posers.

If I could go on a one-day drinking binge with anyone in the world, there’s really no doubt who I would choose. Because with Waldo, you’ll travel the world, get more play than you’ve ever imagined, and then have the story of a lifetime to go with it.


Beer Garden

Sorry for the brief hiatus, folks. As most of you noticed, I don’t post anymore on weekends. I usually post late at night… but late at night on weekends I’m normally not in any state to be making a blog post. But it would be very interesting to see what I would talk about…

This weekend marked the debut of the Beer Garden. Located in Astoria, Queens, the “old” beer garden is the last remaining of the original beer gardens. There used to be a lot of them back in the day, but all of them – except for one – no longer cease to exist for some reason.

It’s one of the best places to drink that I know of, and I’ve been to many places in Long Island the New York City. The main appeal is that it is, well, outdoors. There’s a normal bar in front, but when you walk outside there is a giant enclosed space lined with hundreds of tables for people to just chill at and drink or eat (they sell good food there too.)

It’s basically like going to your friend’s house who’s having a gigantic party and drinking in their backyard; just a very laid-back atmosphere. And everyone is wasted.

Obviously it’s an outdoor place, so you can’t start going until the later part of spring. It’s also a relatively young scene; most people there are in their early to mid twenties.

And since it’s outdoors you can also smoke cigars while you’re back there which is cool. Or you can smoke crack if you’re into that… nobody’s going to stop you.

People are also really nice there. On Saturday, some dude tapped me on the back and told me that since him and his friends were leaving, we could have three nearly-full pitchers that they were leaving behind. That worked out pretty well.

So yeah, if you like drinking and you like going out… get the fuck over there.

Nothing else really new to report. Except the Mets make me want to fucking kill somebody.

Oh and apparently Citibank is stealing money from me. According to them I don’t keep enough money in my account, so they took 44 dollars from me, and when I went to take that money out – which was no longer there – they froze my account. How the fuck can they get away with that? I’ve never trusted banks, and one day I am going to rob one to get my revenge.