Jersey Fucking Shore? Really?

It is not often where I get into the sheer retardation of what's on television these days. I honestly don't watch half of the stupid shit on the airwaves because I think if it is retarded enough, that retardation is actually going to beam straight into your brain. You know what happens then? We have a nation of idiots. Oh wait, I think there's a name for that now. It's called “America." So these next moronic dolts have a show called “Jersey Shore” and I haven't seen one episode, nor will I ever subject myself to one. Do I need to have seen an episode to talk shit? Absolutely not, let me get in the mix. Pull up a chair if you haven't already.

Let me grab an image of these fucktards before starting. Ok, there we go.

This is what happens when stupid procreates and we all become victims.

Now I have been to Jersey before. Atlantic City to be exact. Once there I found a hive of these retched animals called “guidos” that are of course insignificant specs of horseshit that call themselves Italians. Up until this point of my life, I was unaware that people of my own culture could have such a high level of douchebaggery that I would want to fill their faces with 7.62x39mm Kalashnikov rounds. This kids got the right idea!I'll insert a pic to the left so you can see. There we go!

I had only heard about people like this growing up in Los Angeles and as the popularity of the internet grew I actually got to finally see pictures of what everyone was talking about. I know these people live in their own world, separate from that of reality. You would have to, to totally not realize that the entire world is fucking laughing at you.

The only real character I know on this show is some asshole called “The Situation.” But do you know what the situation really is? The situation is you're a fucking tool, plain and simple sir. Only a generation of MTV followers could possibly find this shit entertaining. I remember back when MTV was cool and they just had music videos, void of any “bitchassness” on the air. What happened? I guess there's another character on the show that is a short, big-boobed fat chick named “Pooky” or “Spooky” or “Fooky.” Fuck if I know, the bottom line she's another one that anyone in their right mind would not consider procreating with. She's what Peter Griffin on Family Guy would call “a practice girl.” She would be part of the myriad of women you bang in your teens so that when you get to the hot ones you have some level of experience and your actions in the bedroom aren't a nonsensical blur of sweat and premature ejaculation. That's all you Pooky!

I can already here the onslaught of “you're jealous Dominic!” comments free flowing onto this subject now. I am not. You can't be jealous of people who make your own ethnic background look like a bunch of assclowns who think they speak for all Italians by doing gay shit in one part of the country. I'm from the west coast where if I walked around like these gel-slicked cockboys, I would've got my ass kicked on a daily basis in Los Angeles growing up. It should be known that I don't hate dudes that work out all the time and have careers in entertainment. If that were the case I would not like Vin Diesel's movies, or Mark Wahlberg's movies, or Josh Duhamel in the show “Las Vegas.” But I do, so that argument doesn't work. But the assholes I'm writing about in this blog don't even have “careers” they have a passing fancy like New Kids on the Block did. Better get that money while the gettins good boys. Eh, I'm sure you'll fuck it all off on hair gel and fake tans. Simpleton brains can't grasp the concept of saving and investing large sums of money for future use.

America has begun encouraging idiocy on this downward spiral of mayhem called entertainment and media. You know why this show has become so popular? Because America has been feeding and growing stupidity on such a massive scale that it's practically taking over. It reminds me of that scene in the Matrix where you see endless fields of humans being grown, except imagine that each one is just as completely dumb as a bag of glass. It is rare that we hear about anything truly substantial going on with today's youth anymore. You know why, because they're all smoking weed that's been biochemically enhanced to make you insta-stupid, and then sucking down super pretzels and nacho cheese, believing the future isn't something that applies to them. That is how “Jersey Shore” came into being. I think this show has only two audiences. The first audience are the diehard fans who have just failed at life and find this kind of shit interesting and dare I say it, cool? The second audience I believe consists of semi-educated to educated people who watch this abortion of programming because they're seriously just awestruck by the stupidity that resides within the program and are wondering what these crazy Dagos are going to do next. It's kind of like the people that hate Howard Stern but listen to him merely to hear what he says next. Sometimes idiocy as massive as this is like a bad car wreck and you can't take your eyes away from what you're visually absorbing.

Jesus Christ look at these motherfuckers.

It is my sincerest hope that MTV stops paying these morons so that other kids around the country don't want their life's achievement being “to reach Guido status.” Seriously, I use to watch that movie “Idiocracy” because it was funny, but it has now pretty much become the state of the union as we know it. I am seriously losing my hope and integrity with my fellow man in attempting to gravitate towards things of substance. As one year ends and a new one begins, we're all treated to a whole new segment of just honest to God morons who have a voice somehow. With this, we have to listen to the nonsensical prattle that spews forth from their cockholsters in an attempt to make a point about....well anything they deem worthy. I know we can't kill these people as much as we'd like to, but can't we maybe put them on an island somewhere with a piece of string and a paperclip and tell them that if constructed properly it's a raft back home to the states? I mean, hell, I'd watch that!

I say it all the time that I think we as a country make leaps and bounds when it comes to adopting and enjoying “stupid” as entertainment. I enjoy watching people do stupid things like fall and hurt themselves or play pranks on others, it's funny. But to actually mislead people into thinking these Jersey retards are actually something to strive to becoming in your life and that they are the definitive source of all that is cool, is a monumental crime to humanity. Granted, I think shows like this bring a certain sub-par audience that's already categorically stupid by default, but I think others still, that are within earshot of it, are being effected. If I had kids I wouldn't even let them watch MTV because of travesties like this.

“When you're old enough to know the difference between cool and stupid, I'll let you watch MTV until your eyes explode, but not a second before!”

You're all already well-versed in how I do not like people who lick screen doors and baseball bats, I'll be damned if my future kids (providing such a thing will eventually exist) are practitioners of the very same on my watch! So in closing, FUCK “Jersey Shore” and all that reside in its cast. I would like to extend a special fuck you to those responsible for putting it on the air. I do not care if you are the producers or a set grip, all of you are part of the problem, so fuck you as I said earlier. Last but not least, to those of you who watch this because you find it entertaining somehow, fuck you too. You are one of the main reasons douchebags like the ones on this show are collecting a paycheck. You should all give yourselves a shotgun enema.

Lastly remember kids, there's only one cool Guido on this planet and his name is Rocky Balboa.

Thank you.



p.s.- The guys in the above video have had it right for years. God bless them.

A Timeless Question Answered Yet Again...

As each passing month comes to a close and a new one begins, it's usually only a matter of time before the echoes of stupidity come flooding back into my mind. These "echoes" as I call them consist of many things. Sometimes they consist of just highly uneducated people trying to break down life the best they can and I'm unfortunately within earshot of it. Others attempt to display some semblance of intelligence that I would pay attention to or find captivating. There are others still, that are seriously so fucking stupid it amazes me that they're even able to remember how to breathe. But the echo of stupidity Im going to share with you today is from people who constantly ask me, "Why dont you have a girlfriend, Dom?" like I'm doing something wrong or illegal.

You know if it isnt one thing it's another. I think the majority of you who read the stories and other shit I write, already know why I don't have a girlfriend. I mean, there's just certain attributes dealing with the content of my character, that you just know arent going to be conducive in a relationship. They certainly weren't in my last one. I myself also dont feel the need to fill a non-existent void in my life to validate my own existence to people in general. I realize that there are some people out there who have to be in a relationship, because well, they're just co-dependent fucktards. There's some people who are so insecure about themselves that they feel they need a member of the opposite sex (or the same sex, I dont know how you swing) to make them feel validated in front of their peers. Not to mention that Im pretty self-absorbed as it is. But these character flaws are just part of the wonderful fabric that I use to study in sociology. You know, when we put all of you under a microscope and studied your social habits in a classroom environment, it makes you look really, really weak and fragile as human beings. Perhaps that's also another symptom of maybe not being hugged enough as a child, I don't know. Either way my gentle snowflakes I'm going to help you, keep reading.

A lot of my friends have girlfriends, good for them, most are unhappy, but that's the path they chose to take. Sometimes I believe they want me to be miserable with them, but I refuse. I don't have a significant other and my stress levels are practically non-existent. There are very few females out there who have the gift of NOT pissing me off or irritating me after a week. I mean, if you actually make it to a first date with me, consider it more like a first job interview...with the inclusion of possible fornication at the end. Or just assume I don't know you very well and decided to give you a chance out of boredom. Or just assume you're incredibly hot and that is your sole purpose in this equation. No doubt by this point you have probably failed, dating someone else, gotten married, or have returned to lesbianism (yes that last one actually happened with bracelet girl). A lot of this has to do with the flakiness of women in general. Now I'd like you to add my own flakiness and lack of interest in your life. What we have here now is the two primary ingredients for epic fail. Not to mention the multitude of other factors that are attributed to my lack of patience with you. And the few that have that gift I don't want a relationship with in most cases because I actually like them as people (If I like you as an actual person, it means I see past your vagina and probably wont have sex with you. But then again, if you're hot enough and I'm intoxicated it's very likely to happen, just being clear). If I actually like you and you're of the opposite sex, chances are I WON'T want a relationship with you because I don't want to fuck you up emotionally. Like I said, I actually like you so out of the goodness of my heart Im going to spare you that type of emotional trauma.

But yeah, the main point here is stop being so co-dependent in your dealings and undertakings of attempting to find your "soul mate." Stop using another human being as a fucking crutch because you THINK it'll make you happy and have other people see you as "normal." Seriously, they're really the sick ones if they think that way, not you. Also train your mind to start asking yourself questions like, "Why am I having aspirations of merely wanting to be normal?" If you're going to be in a relationship, be in one for the right reasons, not just because you think you should be in one because that's what people your age do. You've got to be one charming female to ever get signed to my team on a permanent basis and I don't plan on finding that anytime soon. Am I ashamed because you're probably not good enough for me and we just share mutually exclusive interest in the other's anatomy? Hardly. I'm more ashamed that if I don't become your boyfriend you'll go to the next best guy and try the same thing just to be with someone. People like this make me sick. But dont take offense to that, a vast majority of the human race makes me sick. You yourself are just kind of like the little sprinkles on the top or the coconut shavings that add a touch of flavor.

Now lets get into my favorite subject: Infidelity. Yes indeed. Throughout the years, especially my early, early twenties I began to see how astoundingly easy it was to bang other mens so-called "property." Sometimes when driving home I'd even listen to "OPP" in my car after the deed was done. Awesome! Without a doubt, married women as well as women in bad relationships are by far the easiest to negotiate sex with. This is primarily because there's no negotiation needed, all you have to do is show up to the same places they do. So many women who say they're in love with their boyfriends or husbands are the same ones who use to meet me at hotels at 1am in the morning, who've been married for years. I use to think it took some level of tact and strategy, but I found out later that it doesn't. These women are going to cheat on their men one way or another, and there's nothing that man can do to prevent it. It can either be with me or some other guy they find in the bowels of night somewhere. It's so easy to do as I stated earlier, why would I get in a relationship when I know my taste and patience with someone change with the weather? Im a realist like that. Humans are not monogamous people; this is a scientific fact. And like my good friend Phil Derner has said, "I dont have commitment issues, society has fidelity issues." And thats the damn truth if I've ever heard it. When all is said and done, we are all still just living, breathing mammals. We're just thrown into this thing called "society" which tries to ascertain rules for us on how to act appropriately in day to day situations. So be it, but that doesn't mean I have to follow these banal social habits as blindly as everyone else.

 Oh yes, I miss these moments soooooo much!!!

At this point youre probably saying, "Jesus Dom, youre going to live a very unfulfilling life if you dont change the way you think." Nonsense. I realize there are people out there that I can really vibe with on an intimate level. I realize there's women out there that I could have a family with and not want to stick a shotgun in my mouth at the first sign of feeling trapped or being constantly nagged. I know these people exist. I'm fully aware of what "love" is, how it works, and what it feels like. I just choose to not go down that road, I CHOSE to live the life I live. Yes, it was a CHOICE I made some time ago. I think in the grand scheme of things I'm probably incapable of falling in love as they say, from an intimate perspective because shortly after entering into a verbal contract of monogamy with someone (aka a "relationship") I start to immediately feel trapped after about 2 months or so. Although my last girlfriend didn't show her insecurities until after about 10 months. Excellent work you sassy rogue! They still eventually ended up floating to the surface which is why I am in Nevada and she is in Cali. She thought we were going to get married. I did not.

Lastly, this doesnt mean I wouldnt be more than happy to engage in sweet relations with any of the millions of beautiful women in the world. You never know, you may end up being "the one." Just because I dont love you doesnt mean I couldn't like you. Well, sometimes even thats pushing it, but I will leave that up to fortuna and the individual in question at the time.

Now shut up and stop asking me!

The Catalina Trip aka The Flying Fish Story

Author's short foreword: "I wrote this many, many years ago (maybe even a decade ago) and you can tell when reading that I was still developing myself as a writer. Be that as it may, it's still one of the funniest things I've ever had the priviledge of witnessing and as such gets a place here at dudebro. One other quick thing to note is that as I read this I immediately came to the conclusion that I wasn't old enough to legally drink yet, hence the reason I found it difficult to find alcohol so readily available on the island. But if you know Dom, that's not going to stop him. Either way, as with all my stories, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed living it."

I like vacations away from California whenever I can get them. These include a multitude of places I'm willing to go just to get away from the grind for a bit. One of these places decided upon one year was Catalina Island. A friend of a friend (I think he happens to be queerbait, and that will be his name for the duration of this story) was a lifeguard up there for the summer. I figured, cool, we gotta place to stay and plenty of stuff to do, so I thought. We got on the boat heading for Catalina the next day and were off. It was one of those insanely quick hydroplane boats that went Mach1 through the water. We made it there quick. The most enjoyable part of this trip was watching the fat people out on deck vomiting over the side. If you ever take a boat trip out to Catalina, you'll ALWAYS see this at some point. In some cases I've seen people actually turn a light complexion of green, now add an overweight male wearing a sweat suit and one of those 1985 belly bags to this equation and you'll see comedy on a grand scale.The DomMega on the other hand, has an incredible pair of sealegs and I was alternately unaffected.

We docked at Avalon and proceed to take a shore boat over to where Queerbait was. Now an important author's note worth mentioning here is that I thought this was like a teenage co-ed summer camp. I was sadly, sadly mistaken. It was a youth boy scout camp, and a shitty one at that. I never thought boy scouts were cool. I've mocked them when I was young for dressing like pretty boy retards and not much changed at the point we're at now in the story. The shore boat docks at the boyscout pier and we get off. Queerbait waves to us as he's playing soccer with a bunch of little shit scouts in shorts with their socks all the way up to their knees. ITS SUMMERTIME, WTF! I just walk past Queerbait and his band of lawn fairies and locate a shanty to put my bag in. (The lodging here was set up to where everyone slept in a little shack with a cot in it. Yes, I said a little shack. A makeshift shelter of wood boards and nails that you can actually see right through from all sides.) I put my stuff down and locked the door when leaving. I decided I had to go talk to Queerbait because I didn't feel like hanging out with Face AND his girlfriend. I didn't care much for his girlfriend back then, however seeing this story is about 8 or 9 years old, now she has become tolerable.

The first words out of my mouth to Queerbait was, "So where can I get some alcohol in this place."

Queerbait: "Dude, this is a boy scouts camp, there's no alcohol here."

Dom: "WTF! You drag me out here to some island and there's no fucking alcohol to drink!"

Queerbait: *whispers* "Hey bro, the Alumni eagle scouts have HALF a bottle of Captain Morgan that we're going to bring down to the campfire later after the kids go to bed."

Dom: "You're fucking kidding me. Why is that I've allowed myself to be in such a predicament as this? I've had more fun hanging out with my catatonic uncle than with you and everyone else in the immediate vicinity. And what's sad is that you all probably think you're super cool for drinking a HALF a bottle of Captain Morgan between the 13 of you. Thats fucking gay!"

Just then the apparent eagle scout in question comes over with the bottle surprisingly, and I take it from his hands and begin drinking. I did this because I needed to become inebriated to even deal with the given situation. The second reason I did this was to fuck up these woodsman's night by the fire so that they can not attempt to pretend like they're men because the only real man there already drank their entire bottle of alcohol. Fuck them.

Sensing my disgust and angst one of the eagle scout posers decides to take us to the isthmus for the night, possibly to get on my good side, I still don't know. Its a place where they have a reggae band, dancing, and at least some kind of nightlife. I was ecstatic, I couldn't wait to get out of that shit hole I was stuck on. On our way over, the main Eagle in charge thought it would be funny to sit Face on the seat cushion of the boat that shoots water between the cracks. It wasn't realized until he got up to depart the boat what had happened. Mr. Eagle (who I'm sure is still a virgin at age 24) began to bust up laughing. Face didn't find this funny and before he got off the boat he thought it necessary to slap little virgin boy across his fat face to show him that normal people will actually beat you for doing such things. After seeing this I couldn't hold in the laughter, not that I hold it in anyway to spare people's feelings. Evidently after Face slapped this kid in the grill, he slipped in the boat and fell flat on his back with the most amazing awestruck look on his face I've seen in a long time. Now we found a laundromat surprisingly at the isthmus and that was our first stop. Face threw his shorts into the dryer and proceeded to sit there in the laundry room in nothing but his boxers. Again I began laughing, the shit was just funny. I mentioned earlier that his girlfriend came with him, so now she can serve a purpose and wait with him. I was on my way to go get smashed somehow, so I say goodbye. I venture over to the dance area and try to find some girls with liquor. BINGO! A girl in a pink skirt was sitting far off in the corner and I saw them with a bottle of something. I locked on to the table and began my approach.

Dom: "Yeah, I can see that you ladies appear to be refilling your drinks with something in your friend's purse there. You need to realize this is against Island policy and you have been caught red-handed."

Girls: *Fear*

Dom: "HAHA! I'm kidding! But you will have to share some of that with me because there's little to no alcohol on this godforsaken side of the island so I'm going to need assistance."

Turns out these chicks were cool and had I actually been a nice guy I would've remembered their names and tried to get to know them better. But I'm not so I didn't, nor where any of them highly attractive. But I did drink half that bottle of Parrot Bay straight, but that wasn't enough to get me on the midnight train to debauchery. It's sad when the only alcohol you can get your hands on is 40 proof Rum, but whatever we were in dire straits. I had to forget I was staying in a camp with a bunch of little dipshits and even bigger queers as counselors. One of whom recently getting slapped by one of the elite members of my asshole syndicate. I began laughing again thinking of the earlier display of comedy on the starboard side of the ship.

I'm going to fast forward to when we began our departure of the happening, totally kick ass isthmus that was filled with the leftover, unwanted, carnival sideshow acts of Catalina Island. As a matter of fact I think I saw the sea hag from Popeye there perusing the contents of the trash bins. I didn't even try to hook-up with anybody, thats how bad it was. But I was soon about to witness the most outlandishly hysterical thing I've ever seen in my life.

We get on the boat and its mostly a bunch of high school graduates out there for the summer to have fun and relax before college. Why they chose this side of the island is beyond me, but whatever. They turn all the lights off in the boat so bugs and other things won't be attracted to the lights bothering the passengers late at night. I did notice a little Asian girl through the darkness, directly in back of the boat facing forward. This girl hardly spoke any English at all, but was able to repeat it very well. It was only a matter of minutes before she began to get fucked with.

Guy1: "Tell me you want my dick!"

Girl: "I wanta yo dick." *Laughter Erupts*

Guy2: "Say 'I'm your daddy."

Girl: "You my dad-ee!" *Again laughter erupts*

I didn't partake in this type of amusement, it was too easy and represented absolutely no challenge whatsoever. It would be like running a race with a quadriplegic, absolutely pointless. But I had no problem listening. We laughed and such, but it was pretty lame comedy to be sure. Then it happened....... out of nowhere I felt a burst of wind hit me in the face and didn't even have time to react before I heard a..........."DAH! GAWD!!" in the back of the boat. The "DAH!" had an Asian accent.

Here's what happened and its one of those things I'll only be able to Picture this fish 3 times larger and about a half inch widerexperience once in my life. A flying fish had flown into the boat. It was going so fast that we didn't even see it, we just felt the wind as it flew past our faces. Here's the kicker, out of everyone in the boat, it hit the poor little Asian girl in the back of the boat that everyone was making fun of and who couldn't speak English. What are the odds. Some guy picked the fish up and spread its wings to show the boat how big this fucker was. And it was HUGE! Even I was surprised. After the insane bouts of laughter that never really ended, I realized the girl wasn't saying much. I got up and looked into the back of the boat where she was sitting. SHE WAS COMPLETELY KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT! Yup, no shit, this poor broad was on the floor while her friend was standing over her, rattling off some foreign gibberish, trying to wake her up. I've never seen anything so hysterically funny in all my life........ever. Turns out the girl was alright but the fish's head was so hard, almost like steel, that when it struck her in the forehead going that fast in nautical speed, it knocked her completely unconscious. Don't believe me? If you ever have the opportunity to touch the head of one of these fish, do so and get back to me. Face is still my witness to this day. I can't make this shit up if I tried.

The entire weekend was primarily composed of idiocy and dorks surrounding me and at first I was pissed off I even spent money for the boat ride over. But sometimes in life, God just hands you one, and I ended up seeing the most hilarious thing of my entire life that very same weekend. Sure, the other 99% of it was completely lame and stupid, but I did get to do some kayaking and cliff diving, and last but certainly not least I got to see a fish hit a foreign exchange student in the face. All in all it was a pretty decent way to spend a few days outside of L.A. I'm sure the vast majority of those children who are now young adults are still nerdy dipshits and I'm sure the counselors have married women who have since removed whatever few balls they had between their legs, but that is not my problem. They have all served an integral part of my life, albeit merely as entertainment and getting their own spot in the dude bro blog, which I can assure you is a good a place as any for fame of this magnitude.

You Catalina folk are all still my bitches,

The DomMega

The Mysterious Case of the Broken Bracelet...

 I live in a city that is and has been morally bankrupt since it's very inception. I believe the same can be said for the world in general, but in other geographical locales, it isn't something that's really encouraged. In Las Vegas, Nevada however, it is not only encouraged, it's very much celebrated. Inhibitions fly completely out the window and judging others for indulging their more taboo of whims is non-existent. As a matter of fact, it is the entire reason people from all over this big blue planet of ours frequent this city on an annual basis, sometimes far more frequent than annual. There's something here that possesses your very spirit and interaction with others where you cease to be the person you were and become something you yourself wouldn't recognize on your best day of sobriety, and this is what happens if you don't live here. Let's talk about some of the choice residents who I've met within the bowels of night.

I have met a ridiculous amount of poor choices and mistakes in the 702. Each one like a snowflake bearing it's own individualism, flaws, personality traits, and often times of the more recent, they are typically stranger and more emotionally dead than the one's before them. It's kind of like walking down a spiral staircase that gets darker and more fucked up as you descend. You hear disturbing voices, unorthodox verbal thoughts, and even weird baby crying noises that you'd hear in a psychotic movie, and you're so curious to see what's behind the next door you continue downward. We have just described my dating circuit and this definitely holds true with this last female whom I experimented with, who will in time, be nothing more than another number on a long list of convenient sexual interactions and late night romps getting me no further in the game of life than the last one did. The whole experience is reminiscent of jogging in place in the hopes of warming up and running a mile or two, but it inevitably gets dark outside and you lose interest and forget what it was you were even doing at the track. On a mental level I think about 98% of all residents here are operating day to day on autopilot. Hardly seeking enlightenment but entitlement as well as merely accepting what they see every day at face value and making a vein attempt of acting accordingly. I'm use to it and haven't had a female actually blow my mind mentally since back when southern California was still part of my weekend stomping grounds. But to be perfectly honest the names and the faces have become so amalgamated and juxtaposed with each other that I feel like I'm viewing the past through one of those fun house mirrors. I don't know who's who, where I met them, what conversations we've had, etcetera, but I do know what it inevitably led up to in 4 out of 5 cases examined. So without further a due, let's discuss the most recent failure of almost epic proportions (you can decide for yourself).

Have you ever really wondered how things end with certain individuals whom you choose to “date” or get semi-romantic with? When I think back on it myself, some of the reasons are absolutely hysterical. Others are just lackluster reasons like usually no longer liking the person, they smell like ass, they act like a dude, they're drug addicts, they have no self-worth, they're liars, cheaters, etc. You either just call it quits or stop calling and taking their calls, period. This one was a little different and due to the shear way of things going down as juvenile as they did, it gets its own place on dudebro. While perusing local night spots and even my own private community where I live, I meet people. Some of these encounters lead to something substantial, others do not. Some of them bring about simple conversation with others, some bring about hilarity, especially with employees of the two most famous jobs in Vegas for chicks, cocktail waitress and stripper. This story is about someone from the second occupation and how she's yet to actually grow up mentally as a person.

This particular individual whom we'll call “Tori” because you know I love pseudonyms, is one such character in my ongoing novel of life. She has been known to call me on the weekend around 2 or 3 in the morning to ask me if I thought she was stupid. She often times reads the stuff I write and will no doubt read this I'm sure. As a matter of fact when we were still on good terms and doing things of a romantic nature with each other I once heard her say, “You're not going to write about this on your website are you!?” To which I replied, “No hun, of course not!” However we were on good terms then, and now we are not and Dom happens to own and operate his own shit talking website. Oops.

I won't get into the actual things that transpired between us during those certain moments of intimacy because honestly they were very few and far between. She said I made her nervous because apparently she hasn't been with a male in about 4 years or so. She was playing for the other team for quite some time but apparently recalled her fondness for penis sometime after hanging out with me. I'm sure she's probably back to playing for that same team once again after dealing with me as I sometimes have that effect on certain people. Some women from my past still love and adore Dominic, whereas others detest my very existence. I try to have a clean exit strategy but sometimes shit happens and there isn't much you can do about it, and I'm at the age where I don't really care about doing anything about it. Unless I ran over your puppy and kicked your mom in the teeth, you'd be hard pressed to really get any kind of emotional response out of me.

Moving on, this girl was notorious for leaving shit at my house. If it wasn't a kitchen appliance for when I made dinner (which I do whether or not a female is here), it was jewelery. Among these items was a bracelet made from a gemstone which unbeknownst to me is very fragile. She left it on my counter and told me to put it somewhere safe. My whole house is safe, this place is like Fort Knox in a lot of ways. But because I blow things off and forget shit constantly, I just left it there on the counter. I wasn't going to wear it or anything and she could come pick it up next time she was over so I just forgot about it. The problem was she was a flake and would rather sleep all day then come pick up her belongings, and on my counter it remained.

I came home one day and found it on the tile floor by my door, broken. Apparently the thing fell off the counter somehow when I was cleaning or when the maintenance guy came over to fix something. I honestly don't know. After not seeing this girl for a week and me arguing with her about flaking for a certain festival taking place we got in a texting argument. (Yeah, an actual texting argument, which is where technology has taken us. I don't even have to yell on the phone anymore, which rules.) She called and said she had a $15 gift certificate for Olive Garden and would let me use it for dinner so we could "make up." I mean c'mon, $15 is a lot of money! I said OK and proceeded to meet her there on a Thursday night. Because I'm Dominic and have a strict rule of actually being honest with people I decided that at the restaurant would be where I broke the news (pardon the pun) about her bracelet. Evidently my honesty and being as forthcoming as I possibly can was NOT appreciated and in fact was reprimanded instead. The girl was pissed. Because it happened during our text fight, (yeah that's what I'm gonna call it, TEXT FIGHT!) she thought I had seriously broken her bracelet thingy on purpose. This is because I have nothing better to do than break other people's shit when I'm upset apparently. I can tell by the look in her eyes she wanted to punch me in the face. I told her that the thing could be repaired and in a very un-assholish gesture, I even offered to pay for it and be decent about it. Again, this was not met with positive feedback. In fact she told me that I shouldn't have even told her about it! But because I love all of you and knew I would be posting this, I have saved ALL of the text messages she sent me at 4 am that morning while I was still sleeping and I will now share them with all of you exactly as they came to me my gentle snowflakes, typos included.

Tori 4:04am- “I don't give a shit. Dnt even bother fixn it just giv it back 2 me. Ill tell her what happened and give her $4 a new one. I can't believe you did that.”

I'm still sleeping mind you. Sound asleep, not even replying.

Tori 4:07am- “U really are an asshole. I dont even want 2 b friends w u anymore. U want ppl 2 treat u a certain way but dnt care about any 1 elses feelings. Ur mean”

Tori 4:08am- “And I know u did it on purpose! Im not a fukn idiot. My aunt is 70 yrs old! Fuk. Ur a dick head. I wud never do that 2 any of my friends.”

Tori 4:11am- “And don't even touch my salad spinner! Ill pik it up 2mro and I dont even want to talk to you when I do.”

I am still sleeping folks.

Tori 4:25am- “I know the maintenance man didnt do it. Like youd really let them in ur apt whn ur not ther. U dont even make sense.”

Tori 4:27am- “dont be even more immature than u already have been n mess up my salad bowl. Im seriouse dom-dont fuk w me.”

Tori 4:31am- “I hate u. Ur a huge asshole. U should spend less time on being so smart w words n writing and more time on how 2 be a good person.”

Tori 4:35am- “God. Ur so into yourself it makes me sick! U hate whn ppl flake on u? I hate whn ppl take my beautiful thngs and treat them like garbage!!!”

I woke up later that day and told her she can come pick up her shit, that I left broken for her because me paying to have it fixed was out of the question because I am an asshole. I did however tell her that she was seriously exhibiting signs of narcissistic rage and that perhaps she should call an 800 number or talk to someone. I'm sure there's steps you can take if you find yourself in such situations in life and once again thought I would lend a helping hand.

This was her response instead:

Tori 11:10am- “Narcissistic rage? Dnt say what I am til I break somthn of urs. Not textn u again until 2nt whn im ther. Hope u wait 4me 2get thr b4 putn it out.”

I did not. I just left it on my balcony around 6pm or something. I thought me being decent at this point was well, pointless. But lets kind of digest the situation here. Dom was accused of breaking something on purpose, when in all honesty I didn't do it. If I actually chose to break it, I would have thrown it as hard as I could against my tile floor and it would have been in a lot more pieces than it was. I would say only ¼ of it's total circumference actually broke. I am insulted to think that if, in a fit of rage, I decided to break that thing Tori, that you honestly thought that it would only have one piece missing out of it. I would have went to town on that thing. I would have shattered it in as many pieces as possible. Then I would have taken a hammer and smashed those little pieces into even smaller pieces. At that point I would have just grinded up the remains with something and turned that bracelet into a very fine powder and gave THAT back to you in a zip lock bag. However I did none of those things.

What was shocking to me was that I knew the girl was going to be pissed. I also figured that she thought I honestly did it on purpose, hence the reason I offered to pay for it's repair. But what happens the one time Dom actually attempts to be nice? (And I did apologize surprisingly.) Yes, I am called an asshole, a dickhead, a jerk, a prick and a plethora of other uncomplimentary terms. I felt like I was back in high school or something, but even my girlfriend in high school was far more mature than this one, and this one is 27! Oh what a tangled web we weave when we're too stupid to weave webs.

So here is some quick advice for Ms. Tori:

 1.  I didn't break your stupid bracelet. Your maturity is exactly equivalent to that of a spider monkey who holds his hat out for change from tourists. Instead of having chicks pay you to date you as I was previously told, perhaps you should actually work on growing as a person and realize that accidents do in fact happen. Everybody makes mistakes in life, look at Hitler! But this wasn't even a mistake, the only mistake had here was you leaving shit at Dom's house and honestly thinking that the likelihood of something NOT happening to it in some way, shape, or form was unlikely. Your fault. If it was so important to you, then you should not have left it here to begin with. You could be over here right now talking about pointless and mundane things that I pretend are interesting!

 2.  And this is unrelated but get a boob job. I hear that there are certain establishments like clubs and other places in Vegas where they will actually pay for the surgery upon signing a 3-4 year contract. I have lots of friends out here who are female and do what you do. They make upwards of $3,000 a night when it's slow, whereas you're lucky if you make about $400. You've been in this business long enough to know that there are plenty of other women out there making a killing at strip clubs, and you choose to ignore the obvious. Instead of going back to school, you're going to milk the stripping thing and you're OK with making peanuts for the duration of the time you're doing it. And you called me stupid? Those funbags would be a tax write off! Get with the program and start making some real cash!

 3.  You're not a bad person per se, but you are seriously dumb. I seriously had to dumb down a large majority of my discourse with you because you honestly just did not understand what I was talking about. This ranged from my casual conversations about what little politics I discuss and know about, to educated humor where I was often asked by you, “What does that mean?” and a severe lack of just honest to God common knowledge that any schmuck should be aware of. Go to school. Do something with yourself. Your boobs won't sag when you get older because you don't really have any, but I guarantee you, you won't be a commodity at the old lady club you're currently working at forever. Do something with yourself that has some substance. When you're ashamed of what you do enough to where you won't share it with family members, then you should probably stop doing it at some point. Just saying. And who knows, maybe by moving outside that world of nakedness, drugs, booze and idiocy, you may come into contact with some mildly educated people whom you can actually grow as a person with. Sky's the limit!

 4.  Stop gambling, seriously. Perhaps Vegas isn't the ideal place for you to live if you have gambling problems. I know you've won at certain bar machines before, and pretty decent amounts at that, but you need to stop chasing the dragon. Because of your degenerative gambling disease, you were evicted from your apartment when you constantly kept paying it two weeks late and then you just couldn't pay it at all after that. Another tell tale sign of your maturity is that you called the managers all bitches because they evicted you. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think that because you pay your rent late all the time you were going to be inducted into the “Cool Girl Club” where the rules of the world cease to exist with you? That's actually not what happens. In reality, where I live, they tell you to go kick rocks and also to pack up your shit and move out of the apartment you can't pay for because you fuck off all your money. There's an 800 number you can call for gambler's anonymous. Perhaps one of my swell readers could provide it for you and you can give them a call. I'm giving you gold here Tori, perhaps you should take it for what it is and make some adjustments to your life. The family would be proud, you would be proud of yourself, and your friends would be like, “Damn girl, you gots it goin on baby! How do I get like you?” And you can say, “I once knew this asshole Dominic who actually made me curse the day he was born, but in the end gave me some good old fashioned advice that I applied to my own life and that has made all the difference.”

Lastly I will just end with a quote from a wise man in a movie called “Gangs of New York.” His name was William Cutting aka Bill the Butcher. Sometimes there are just people who have said it better, so why not just end with a quote that says exactly what you're trying to sum up?

“Here's the thing. I don't give a ten penny fuck about your moral conundrum you meat-headed shit sack. That's more or less the thing.”

Dom goes to Vegas, almost gets married (before I moved here)...

This was requested by a friend who never heard the story about how I almost got married in Vegas back in early 2001 or 2002 or something so it's definitely not recent. It's pretty funny and worth repeating for those who haven't heard it. Plus it was time to get something new up on dudebro besides an article about a sandwich. Enjoy.

The majority of the time I’m in Vegas I’m in such an alcoholic haze that the things I’m told I do make absolutely no logical sense to me. But as we all know, when you add alcohol, your buddys, hookers, strippers, clubs, and casinos all into the same formula, some interesting factors are going to take place. So I think the story I’ll share with my readers this time is the time I almost got married in the V-town to a drop-dead gorgeous Romanian immigrant. Lets proceed....

I touched down at McCarran like I usually do. I have officially "loathed" the drive to Vegas for about 4 years now, so I don’t drive there. As a matter of fact, I hate all long drives anywhere. I’ll just jump my ass on a plane and get there in an hour or so, while being drunk the whole time. Alcohol is my bitch and will always have my full and utmost attention. Especially when I’m on vacation or in my off-time. Now you see why I fly whenever I go somewhere.

We arrive at baggage claim to get our multitude of luggage for the duration of our stay. Walking out front I realize for once I want to take an actual limo to our hotel. Seeing me, B-Legit, Face, and The Doctor were all highly intoxicated anyway, we all agree. I see a black limo pull up with no reservation for anyone and flag him down. We all pitch in and jump inside. The first thing I go for was the bottle of bourbon in the sidebar. Have I eaten breakfast yet? No, of course not, I’m currently drinking my breakfast.

We pull up at the Flamingo and I’m still drinking as is everyone else. The driver had to open the door and suggest we depart or he’d charge us for another hour. I figured he served his purpose, got us there in style, and I wanted to check in anyway so I can have free drinks at the craps table. We get out and he bids us farewell. Yeah whatever, its GO time!

We check in, drop off all of our shit in the room. Crank the air conditioner all the way up to like 58 degrees or some shit (we take advantage) and proceeded to go downstairs. We had some buffet breakfast real quick, its cheap and its fast and they make it so. I have no problem with that, I’m in a hurry to continue my drinking binge. I give little Garaputo my plates and leftover table relics and we’re off to the tables.

I played craps for quite some time. I made drunken friends with men obviously in their mid-life crisis from the clothes they were wearing and the cars they were bragging about just purchasing. I didn’t care though, if they’re getting drunk with me and having a good time as we make fun of passers-by then all is right with the world. After a few hours of this however, B-Legit and myself decide that we must go hit up one of our favorite nudy bars in Vegas. Turns out we were gambling, drinking, and womanizing longer than we thought because it was now dark outside. But thats how Vegas is sometimes.

We get a cab with some ex-crip gangmember as a driver and are in route to the fantastic Olympic Gardens. OG’s is one of my favorite nudy bars because the women are all gorgeous as one should expect for being right on Las Vegas Blvd, and the drinks are strong. I throw down a dub (thats $20, friend) and make my way around the cashier to find a suitable place to sit and poor alcohol into my face. I find it and my boys immediately join me.

Here's where it all happened...

Now B-Legit is like the nudy bar godfatherof the crew. He gets lap dances with women and they pretty much do everything to this kid you can imagine. He’s been *insert whatever you can think of here* and God knows what else. Out here in Cali, a girl came back out after the lap dance to where we were sitting, just to give him her number. He never calls, its awesome and I love it. When I asked him what his reason for not calling them is, he always replies, "These girls are nothing more than my entertainment for the night. Anything that is to develop outside these doors would be a waste of my time. I love strippers, but only when they’re at work. I don’t think they’re very smart and I don’t find them to be that entertaining OUTSIDE of work, so fuck ’em." I couldn’t agree more, although some strippers have been close friends of mine in the past. But the majority of the part about them being stupid and uninteresting is usually true.

Well we’re now situated and having a smoke or two with our long islands just waiting to see who’s going to come bother us for a lap dance and who was going to get immediately denied for doing so. I don’t really get lap dances anyway, but if I do it sure as hell isn’t going to be within the first hour I’m there. I have to marinate and get a comfortable view of ass, thighs, and tits in my face for anything of substance to happen. And 2 hours later, here she came...

Now don’t ask me what her name was, I couldn’t tell you. But I can describe verbatum what she looked like. Short white hoochy shorts, but classy somehow. A sequined bikini top exposing the perfect curvature of two perfect breasts and her legs. Legs that were so long, shapely and beautiful I had one of my temporary lapses of lust or love, I still don’t know what it was to this day, but she had my attention. Her hair caressed her shoulders as she turned her neck to look at me, and her skin was softer than a down pillow and satin sheets. She wore open-toed low platform shoes and her feet were perfection each time she took a step towards me. Her eyes were gleaming like 4 carats a piece, blinding yours truly like a freight train was coming down the tracks head on with just me standing there. And the ass, the ass would’ve made grown men leave their families of two decades to shack up with that thing for just one night. Things were heating up at a geometric rate.

She sat down next to me and just began small talk. At this point, I’m so fucking gone, everything was spinning, and everything sounded convincing. I’m no longer with my boys, she’s lured me to some back corner of the place as she sat on my lap, kissing my neck, and stroking my better half.  Turns out she was an immigrant from Romania but wanted nothing more than to be a legal resident of the united states. I think you see where this is going.....

We started making out and she was putting my hands on her chest and my other in between her legs. Now she sucking on my ear lobes and whispering all sorts of nastiness into my ear, and I’m loving it. In my highly, highly intoxicated frame of mind, (I’d been drinking since boarding the plane early that morning ,remember?) I heard her say she’d love to spend the rest of her life with someone like me. I immediately got up and grabbed her by the hand and was walking out of the building. B-Legit stopped me and asked where I was going. I remember saying, "I’m in a hurry, I’ll be next door, bye bye then!"

Well there was one of those speedy drive-thru wedding chapels next door and I was well on my way. I got there and remembered making out with her more as we waited to get our number. Upon seeing me, the cashier said I looked a little intoxicated and should maybe rethink my decision this particular evening. I remember telling her something like, "I don’t pay you to think or make my decisions for me, I pay you to give me one of those fancy certificates you got back there. Thanks!" I’m getting antzy because I really want to bang this gorgeous broad who’s latched onto me right now, and for some reason I think time is of the essence. I also recall suggesting to her we just consummate the marriage in the janitor’s broom closet behind us before the marriage itself even takes place. She starts giggling and says, "Good things cummmmmmm to those who wait." I look up and we’re next.

I stand up and walk to the alter thingy wearing my damn hawaiian shirt and dickies, and the lines come. "Do you *garbled name* take this man to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold" so on so forth. Without even flinching she replies, "I DO!" Then he turned to me, "Do you Dominic, take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?" I was about to say, "I DO!" in my euphoric state of sex and liquor when I felt a large hand grasp my neck. I was yanked and carried out of the wedding chapel by B-Legit, Face, and The Doctor. I remember them saying to the minister as I was being carried out on B-Legits back, "You already passed the speak or forever hold your piece part, so we’re just going to drag him outta here! SORRY!"

So you see, I have good friends for the most part. Chances are the next week I would’ve got the marriage annuled, unbeknownst to her, as I flew back to Cali, and everything would’ve been ok and I still would’ve banged the hot Romanian girl. But my boys, being the types of guys they are, knew that I’d probably fuck that up somehow and didn’t even let the situation transpire. And lets be honest here, going through with a marriage in a tiny Vegas chapel regardless of your intoxication level, just to get a piece of ass is pretty retarded. I was doing way too much than was probably necessary, but I’ve done lots of dumb things in my life due to my fondness for the drink. But honestly, how hard is it to bang a stripper? I mean seriously?

There was one other time I almost got married, and that too took place in Vegas, its just that kind of a town.