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Pull Up Your Chair.... It's an Entertainment Smorgasbord!!

posted by Dave on 3/21/01

I'm 'a do things my way. It's my way. My way, or the highway." -- Limp Bizkit

Can that Fred Durst write some lyrics or what, man? I mean what could he possibly come up with for the next album that could be as original as that??

Here are some candidates:

(a) "Not while you live under my roof. My roof. Not while you live under my roof."

(b) "Wait till your father gets home. Gets home. Just wait till your father gets home."

(c) "If you ever bring grades like this home again. I'm not sending you back to that school. That school. Not sending ya back to that school."

It's kind of a dreary day here in NYC today. Some people call it "The City That Never Sleeps". I think of it more as "The City Where I Hit the Snooze Bar 10x Before Begrudgingly I Get Out of Bed and Head to a Job Where I'm So Bored That I Have Time to Own and Write For a Website".

Now for those of you who have been following my writing "career" over the past year or so, a lot of you might have noticed that when I try to write about a set topic, I just don't seem to do as well.

The thing is, I have the attention span of a guy in a room full of hookers on trampolines. I can't stay focused on one for too long.

Writer's note: I feel bad for hookers on trampolines. Sure they're having fun... but chances are they have chlamydia and don't even know it. I mean, it is the silent VD and all.

Let's start this post out by taking a look at some Pictures in the News

"Excuse me Joey. there's a two plate maximum at the buffet. Now put them down for a second and get on stage with us. They're taking pictures."

If all of the people I saw out on St. Patrick's Day are any indication... this kid has a big future as a fat, ugly, alcoholic, fireman.

"Never meant to resurrect Seagal's career
He cut off the ponytail but still looks queer
I'm sorry America
Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo I am for reeeaaal."

Writer's note: I know that Outkast sings "Miss Jackson" and not DMX... but it just had to be done.

Gheorghe Muresan tries to pull a "Trojan Horse" and sneak into the Oscars.... just so he can pitch "My Giant 2" to Steve Martin.

"I'd just like to thank my boy Jamal "Shyne" Barrow for taking the fall for me. C'mon America, if you didn't see that one coming... well then you just ain't been watching the justice system for the past ten years. Keep your eye out for my next single... "Mo' Money.. Mo' Freedom""

Now that those are out of the way, let's move on to The Main Topic of the Post

The Main Topic of the Post is sponsored today by Hot Pockets. Hot Pockets. You know somebody in America has used one to masturbate. Whaddya gonna pick? Hot Pockets.

It seems like my life is like a shitty 80's comedy sometimes. I swear, put anything more than ten drinks into my system and it's guaranteed that the next morning, I'll have a comedic story to tell people.

Now recently I went away on a Spring Break cruise, with my friend Tom from college and some of his new grad school friends. We ended up flying down to Ft. Lauderdale where we spent two nights before we drove over to Miami to get on the boat for the five day cruise. Sure enough, the first night in Ft. Lauderdale, something utterly idiotic had to occur.

Now Tom and I flew down together... and all of his friends had already arrived and gotten us a hotel room earlier in the day at the beautiful Howard Johnson's right on the beach. Haha.. "beautiful" and Howard "Johnson's".. There's two things that just don't go together. Kind of like "heterosexual" and "Rosie O'Donnell".

So we get to the Hojo's and proceed to do some nice pre-gaming before heading out to the clubs. Now considering I drank three beers in the car during the fifteen minute car ride from the airport to the hotel... I had my game face on. By the time we finally left to go out, I must have had a good twelve pack in my system.

So after about two hours at the club, I managed to lose every single person I was with. After bumbling around for like a half hour looking for everybody, I decided to just go home. So I exited the club and proceeded to try and hail a cab. I guess I was still in Manhattan mode... because hailing a cab in most other parts of the country is called "hitchhiking".

Some middle-aged woman actually picked me up and asked where I was going. "Howard Johnson's", I replied. So we end up driving around for a while just cause she wasn't 100% sure about where the HoJo's was. Finally, after stopping to ask directions a few times, we see the familiar orange awning of the hotel.

I thank the woman for the ride, get out of the car... and proceed to the hotel room hoping that people had gotten back. (You see... my logic of just going home rather than walking around longer trying to find people was inherently flawed in that... I didn't have a key to the room).

So I head up to the fourth floor and head left down the hallway... second door on the right from the end. (See, most people remember a little thing called "room numbers"... I remember location. It helps when I want to confuse myself later in the night).

I knock on the door and luckily there was an answer. I had just met four of Tom's friends for the first time ever earlier in the night... the guy that answered the door was not one of them.

The following conversation ensues...

Dave: "Hey.. is ahh.. is Tom here??"

Stranger: "Ummm... no."

Dave: "No he's not here right now... or... no I have completely the wrong room?"

Stranger: "Wrong room."

Dave: "Sorry about that, man."

So I walk back through the hallway, trying to figure out whether I had the floor wrong in my mind or what. Well, I figured chances were that the guys hadn't even got back from the club yet... so I'd just sit outside the lobby, smoke a cigarette or ten and wait for them to get back.

About an hour goes by... and I guess I started to sober up a little bit... because the solution to the little mystery dawned on me. I walked into the lobby and already knowing the answer to my question.. I asked:

Dave: "Is this Ft. Lauderdale??"

Guy behind the Desk: "No man.. It's Pompano Beach."

Dave: "And how far away is Pompano Beach from Ft. Lauderdale, exactly?"

Guy: "I'd say like 20 minutes."

Now at this exact moment, I saw a cab pull up and drop a woman off. I hopped in and told the driver I needed to go to Ft. Lauderdale. When he asked me where at in Ft. Lauderdale... I stated, "The Howard Johnson's" and he just started to laugh, as I just told the entire story to him in two words.

I end up getting to the hotel and head up to the room. Upon entering, they all asked, "What the hell happened to you?"

My answer...

"I figured I would go check out and see if Room #416 at the Pompano Beach Hojo's was nicer than ours. Guy wouldn't let me in though."


This experience got me to thinking. In retrospect, this only earns an Honorable Mention in my personal "Favorite Spring Break Moments". You see, back in '95 and '96, I went to Cancun with about twenty five other guys from my fraternity. Some other Honorable Mentions produced in those two vacations:

-- Ending up at Denny's at 3 in the morning with my friend Dan. After the waitress brought us the check, I looked at Dan and said, "I'm going to the bathroom and I'm not coming back.". Thus, screwing Dan into paying for the whole meal or walking out a few moments after I did. Sure enough, standing outside, I watched Dan walk out and without having to say a word, we both broke into a semi-sprint away from the restaurant. Never doubted the Danimal for a second.

-- Falling into a pothole that came up to my waist after drinking a half a bottle of Jack before we went out one night.

-- Waking up on the beach outside of the hotel to find somebody setting up lounge chairs around me at eight in the morning. My response... "Hola, dude."

-- Holding a conversation with a bunch of girls, while fully exposed, after people dared me to whip it out, puking in a garbage can, and hooking up with some random girl that was in my Stats class, all at Pat O'Brien's bar one night. No clue in what order the three events occured. I also met the girl I was sort of dating at the time's sorority big sister. I didn't find that out until after I had gotten home and my sorta girlfriend informed me about it. Supposedly, I kept telling the girl, "Tell her I'm being a good boy!!" when I met her.

Enough with the Honorable Mentions though... Let's get to:

The Indisputable Top Two D-Mac Spring Break Nights which both occurred during my Junior Year trip to Cancun back in 1995.

(2) It was Wednesday I believe, when all of us went for some sort of Hurricane Drink Special at the one bar/club Pat O'Brien's. So me and my friends are hanging out there, drinking all night. Throughout the night, walking to and from the bar, I kept crossing paths with this cute red-headed girl. (She kind of looked like a better looking version of the girl in the Starburst commercial that's pissed cause she's gotta clean the garage). Finally, after about the eighth or ninth time we had made eye contact with eachother, she looked at me and said, "We've got to stop meeting like this.".

Translation: "I know you're a pussy who's probably never going to get up the balls to actually talk to me. So I'll just cut the bullshit for the both of us."

So after talking to this girl for about ten minutes, her friends were all ready to leave the bar and head over to the nightclub, La Boom. The girl asked me if I wanted to go, to which I replied, "Sure."... and in true Dave Macchia fashion, proceeded to not to tell anyone that I was leaving.

We go to La Boom and we're hanging out, just talking at the bar, while all of her friends were on the dance floor. It was around five in the morning, when she asks, "I've got like a bowl's worth of weed in my room... Do you want to come back to my hotel, smoke up, and sit on the beach and watch the sun come up?"

To this day... being asked that question was one of the moments of most sheer joy I have ever experienced. It's like if somebody came up to me today and asked, "Yeah.. I have this extra apartment on Park Avenue with a view of Central Park... Would you mind living there rent free?".

So we go back to this girl's hotel which was pretty far away from the shithole where I was staying... and proceed to do what she had advertised. Eventually we made our way back to the room and started hooking up.

Have you ever heard about somebody falling asleep while fingering a girl? Well, now you have. I awoke on the couch a few hours later, alone. Now up until this point, the whole week my stomach was in tip top shape. I had seen many of my brethren succumb to the bowel shaking earthquakes associated with Mexico throughout the week. Not me though. Nope, my stomach needed to wait for the most inopportune time to fuck me over.

So I made my way to the bathroom. A half hour, a roll of toilet paper, and about 15 flushes later I exited the bathroom, hoping that the hairspray that I was substituting as air freshener in there, covered up any of my lavatory hijinks.

I creeped out, hoping that I could just leave the scene of the crime without waking anybody up. Reaching into my pockets... I came to find... I didn't have a dollar or a peso to my name... and my hotel was a solid bus ride across town. So I saw the girl on the other couch in the living room... proceeded to wake her up and ask her if she could lend me some money to get to my hotel. She insisted on walking me out the door. What was on the way to the front door... yep... the bathroom. I walked out of the room as I heard her chuckling in the background.

I took the bus back to my hotel room, where my roommates Tom and Sully were waiting for me. Upon walking into the room, Sully looked at me and said, "Dude, you gotta hear this story.". It turned out my friend Tom had hooked up with this girl who was a cheerleader at Purdue. On the cab ride home, she straddled him and told him how she couldn't wait to fuck him when they got back. Well, Sully was the only one with the key... and he had stayed behind at the bar with some other guys we were with... and Tom arrived to our hotel to find the place empty... and locked.

As they were waiting outside, this girl informed Tom that she was a virgin and was just playing around with him back in the cab. She ended up taking off, as Tom sat outside the patio door to our floor-level hotel room.... when it happened. Yep, at least I had a toilet facility available to me when the thunder got called down. Tom, on the other hand,... well let's just say that for the rest of the week, we all made sure to walk a good five yards around the bush that was right outside of our door.

... and

(1) On the plane ride down to Cancun, one of the guys who was staying in our room, Mike, was striking up a conversation with all of the stewardesses on our plane. He had spent a semester in Spain... so he spoke Spanish very well. Well, it turned out that all of the stewardesses happened to be staying at the same hotel that we were. Now considering that we booked our trip pretty last minute... our hotel was a really small dive. I mean, some cab drivers we had throughout the week had never even heard of it...

So we were hanging out with the stewardesses by the pool all day... and I was talking to this one in particular, Monica, who spoke about as much English, as I spoke Spanish. I know enough to get by... but that's about it. So, the two of us were just having fun practicing eachother's language all day.

We had made plans with them to meet up at La Boom later that night... and sure enough when we arrived, there was Monica hanging out upstairs waiting for me. So I'm having a few drinks with her, getting to know her. (Her great aspiration in life was to one day own a Volkswagen Jetta)...

Well, at one point, we headed to the bar and she went ahead of me to order the drinks... So as I'm standing there, these two guys kind of bump into her and she said something to them.... They were both a little bit bigger than me.

Now for some reason, I just foresaw this as a bad situation... so I let myself be flooded with my North Jersey Italian heritage... and I embraced the mentality of calm cockiness.

The following conversation took place:

Guy #1: (looking at me) "Yo.. I don't think this bitch speaks any English. Maybe we can pool all our resources and try to talk to her."

Dave: (with a huge grin) "Hehe... I have a better idea. How about I just kick both yer asses instead?"

Guy #2: "What did you say?"

Dave: "Oh, I think ya heard me.".

Guy #1: "What's your fuckin problem?"

Dave: "Oh, I have no problem at all. It's you two that have the problem right now."

Guy #2: "Well aren't you just the cocky motherfucker. What's your deal?"

Dave: "Well, let's just say, I think I could probably take both of you by myself... but just in case I can't, I have twenty five guys in my fraternity here tonight that would tear you two to shreds if I can't get the job done.

Now it was at this point that they both tried to make nice and start a conversation.

Guy #1: "What fraternity are ya in?"

Dave: "What difference does that make?"

Guy #1: "Well... we're in Sigma Chi."

Now at this point... I could tell that these guys didn't want to start anything... and if anything were looking to start a conversation about Greek life. I, however, was on a roll...

Dave: "Oh yeah.. one of my friends from high school is in Sigma Chi at Rutgers. They really fuckin suck.

Now Monica didn't speak much English... but it was at this point that she realized what was going on wasn't good. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of there. I guess she realized that I was defending her because she planted a nice big kiss on me. (Speakin the international language. Awww...jeeeah.) One of her friends showed up and asked what had happened. I explained to her the situation and asked her where all of the guys I showed up with were. "Everybody left like twenty minutes ago to go to some other club.", she replied.

My response to that.... "Hey, why don't we all head downstairs... rapido."

End of Main Topic

This post is long... and it's strong... and it's down to get the friction on.

But skeez down, hoes up... it ain't ovah yet.

It's time for some Midtown Musings

One thing that really cracks me up is that in an industry that is as ever changing and as fickle as the hip hop scene... it's pretty much a known fact that your shelf life is about two years. Yet, when I watch MTV's Cribs, all of these nominal artists have bought these palacial estates like they're going to have their current flow of income, year in and year out forever. I can't wait until five years from now, when I see all of these guys on MTV's new show, Foreclosure.

Do you think Beyonce Knowles' Dad has the balls to ask for Father's Day gifts after having worked his kid to the bone, rather than getting his family out of financial strife by the sweat of his own brow? I mean, doesn't the concept of Beyonce's Dad running a bunch of 11 year old girls through a "boot camp" type training regimen sound bizarre to anybody else. Yet there they are on their MTV "Going Home" special raving about how Beyonce's Dad treated them like soldiers. That shit be fucked up, yo.

Think about how different this country would be right now if we had JFK, RFK, Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X working together for the past 30 years. Generation X got gipped... because by the time we came around, all of the charismatic politicians and leaders were dead already... We got stuck with an actor as the president of our childhoods. It's no wonder that the capital of our generation's America is Hollywood.

Whoever actually watches "Say What Karaoke" should be gathered into a room and killed... just so the rest of us aren't subjected to it anymore. I figure it should take about three bullets to get rid of all the viewers. Seriously,... who watches that show??

How many cocks did Sarah Michelle Gellar have to suck on to get Freddie Prinze Jr. the role of Fred in the new Scooby Doo movie?? I mean seriously, I never knew that Fred was Hispanic with his hair dyed blond.. Poor casting.

I wanted to congratulate Steve Cusato fo winning the role of Jesus Rossi on the latest episode of The Sopranos. Way to go Steve.

Reason #274 Why Dave is Not Allowed To Take More Than One Hit of XTC Per Night

When he blacks out at the bar for a few seconds and comes to, right after he finds himself yelling "The XFL sucks!" at the hot bartender at Dakota's in NYC for no apparent reason. Then he tries to cover it up by making like he had said, "I'd like an Amstel Light please"... and maybe she had just misunderstood him. Jackass.

End of Midtown Musings

I'll leave you today with your court appointed Words of Wisdom

"I think I should warn you all, when a vampire buys it, it's never a pretty sight. No two blood suckers go out the same way. Some yell and scream, some go quietly, some explode, some implode. But, all will try and take you with them." -- Edgar Frog


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