Dom gets dumped in 20 minutes; retard to blame...

I was talking to one of my best friends today and I told her about a date that I had a few years back. She started laughing uncontrollably for about 10 minutes. I figured if the story had that much comedic allure, Id retell it here. This should be relatively short as the date only lasted 20 minutes.

I remember a few years back I was at a bookstore perusing some books about finance. I didnt see anything I really liked so I went over to Real Estate to see if something there caught my eye. Well, there was definitely something there  that did but it wasnt in the form of literature. There was a very attractive young lady sitting there at one of the coffee kiosks doing her homework. I walked by her and saw that she was taking a sociology class just as I did many years ago. Conversation ensued:

Dom: Sociology huh? Are you finding society to be as demented and ridiculous as I did when I took that class?

Hot Chick: Haha, its funny you mention it because this class is slowly just becoming a source of comedy to me the more I go.

Dom: I dont blame you, it was a joke when I took it. Are you here just doing your homework or what?

Hot Chick: Yeah, the school library is always crowded with weirdoes.

Dom: Yeah, I dont think I ever kicked it there myself. Well, if youre going to have some free time later this week we should go out and have some dinner. School will stress you out if you dont make time for fun in between. Im thinking Chinese food. Eating food with two sticks has always intrigued me.

Hot Chick: Sounds great actually, heres my number. Give me a call and well set something up.

Now that of course was the readers digest version of what transpired. In reality it wouldve taken a little more work than that to retrieve a number. As far as what was actually said and how long it took, I dont know. Give me a break it was like 3 or 4 years ago, bite me. I just remember the conversation going somewhat along those lines. I wasnt as aggressive because I figured she was a "nice" girl in certain aspects so I took a different verbal route. So with that I was gone. It was a typical greeting, make someone smile, get the number  and go about your day. I didn't care, she was really, really hot and worth the approach. What I was unaware of however was that this girl was a born-again Christian. I can handle religious girls to an extent; theyre not all that bad. But if youve never gone out with a born-again than its imperative for you to realize that theyre like Jesus Nazis and only think clean jokes are funny and many are quite sheltered. Boy, was she in for a rude awakening.

Fast-forward a week and Im on my way to go meet her at a Chinese restaurant I really like. I saw her in the parking lot waiting for me so I parked my car and met up with her. As we were walking down the sidewalk towards the restaurant, that was when I saw it.

Walking across the street was a short, obese, retarded person complete with helmet. I think there was also a physical retardation here because it appeared to me that one of his legs was longer than the other. There was an everlasting string of drool from his bottom lip to the center of his shirt and the noises he made while walking were incredible. If someone told me to duplicate them, it would probably sound like a donkey fighting a hippo. Like I said it was incredible. He was also intolerably dirty, kind of like he was rolling around in car grease all day. As he strolled past parked cars he was making loud farting noises with his tongue and spitting all over the windows. Sometimes God just hands you one.

He kind of looked like this guy, except with a helmet on.

If any of my stories have been any indication as to my sadistic sense of humor, than you should obviously know that I started laughing so uncontrollably I couldnt walk anymore. So much in fact I had tears coming out of my eyes and was unable to breathe. I was actually gasping for breath in public out of the shear hilarity of what I was witnessing. The only thing that comes close to this is when my friend Bobby told me he saw a tard in an electric wheelchair fall into a missing piece of sidewalk down on sunset. The poor guys wheelchair fell over sideways and started kicking up rocks behind it because he was still holding his joystick forward.

Awesome.

Well to this girls unpleasant surprise she found out, only after twenty minutes mind you, that her date was a complete, unsympathetic asshole. How do I know this? Because thats exactly what she called me as she walked back to her car to go home. Not before of course she told me of her denomination of faith and that she had only heard about people like me, but never so much as imagined herself actually going on a date with one. Was she a little too uptight? Yeah, probably. I should actually have thanked that brave retarded gentleman for walking across the street the way he did. He saved me about $30 or so on a girl who wouldve inevitably pissed me off a day or two after dinner Im sure.

I laugh at retarded people because well, theyre funny. They really are, and I find solitude in the fact that I didnt make them retarded, their parents just had shitty genes. Or maybe they were taking drugs while pregnant or dropped at some point in their baby years of life. I dont know. All I do know is that it isnt my fault and retarded people are hilarious, hands down. I have friends who have a retarded brother or sister or something and we laugh at them all the time. They tell me, "What am I suppose to be serious all the time because theyre retarded and not laugh at the stupid shit my brother does on a daily basis? Fuck that, its funny. You shouldve saw when he peed on himself in the sandbox when we were kids and all the other kids jumped out of it screaming."

Now thats Dominic comedy on a grand scale. If you cant take it, youd probably be strongly advised to walk back to your vehicle and forget you ever met me. Adding your own derogatory discourse at that point, projected at me no less, is ultimately up to you.

Now if anyone can find me a midget who likes to get insanely intoxicated, I swear I’ll give you a finder’s fee and take him everywhere I go.

It's called fucking hygiene ladies!!!

Ladies, don't embrace the scent of the above individual. It doesn't become you.A friend of mine [John] was in Vegas this week for business reasons, waiting for the pleasure segment his last night. While staying at his hotel he met one girl working in a jewelery shop and another one elsewhere who had just separated from her husband 2 days prior. Certainly the makings for an eventful evening when I was first described the situation, and as the evening ensued it was the girl from Puerto Rico who's acquaintance I would be making shortly thereafter. I was asked to be the wingman for this particular venture, and because he's a friend of mine I happily agreed. The only problem with such things is I've lessened my tolerance for jumping on grenades the older I've become and wasn't looking forward to having to do it again this evening. But when the chips are down and the cards don't fall in a pleasing and beneficial order, one is forced to do what they must for a friend. Fine.

The designated rendezvous point was Kahunaville. It was a decent halfway point and because they were unable to get into LAVO, which won't surprise you as you read further, this was just a quick way to meet up and go elsewhere. Seeing we both had an imperative need to take a piss, we ran into the restroom right across from the bar and upon exiting, it happened. It was like a frag grenade of the absolute worst odor I have ever encountered, save for that of rotting flesh which I've ran into while having to work in the morgue at the hospital when I was 18 for about an hour a day. The only way to accurately describe it would be like walking into a steamroom that has collected the most foulest of odoriferous eminations from every spectrum of musk imaginable, while also visiting the smell of about 20 transients genitals and perhaps a dead carcass that had been sitting in the sun for 3 weeks atop its own extracted fecal matter. This assault on the nostrils came immediately after the funk had caught up with her walking from wherever they were and then stopping in front of the bar. If you've ever watched a classic Pepe Le Pew episode and saw what his nauseous fumes did to passers by, then you would be right on par with what I was suffering through. This alien odor was coming from two of the girls, however the girl from the Ukraine had by far the most violent of the two. It was like she was a master of all that is unholy and horrid in existence and had a battering ram into my soul to infect me with it.

It would be too simplex to state that this had miraculously happened from lack of deodorant/anti-perspirant. No, this had come from not bathing, nor washing your musky vagina, sweat from the heat outside, rancid ph levels found in the body chemistry, and I guess perhaps trying to secrete every possible ghastly pheromone the female body could muster in an amazonian jungle environment where swinging from vines and hunting wild vermin for survival would come into play. Satan would banish the shear essence itself from hades if it were to ever reach him, and that would be if he wasn't pissed about something else. The holy trinity would come together and join forces and cancel rapture if they knew that humans were capable of such a bouquet of filth. She was so ripe that the below image isn't even scratching the surface of the menacing incursion taking place on my olfactory senses.

I WISHED that was all that was wrong with this girl. I would imagine the smell wouldn't have been so completely overbearing.

Plus for some reason she was expecting me to be a gentleman to her and hold open doors instead of letting them slam in her face. Really? You got hands sweetheart, stop that swinging door from bashing your melon because I'm not going to. I was trying to put you out of my misery. This was also expected at my vehicle when we dropped them off at Mandalay Bay which I found incredulous. The fact that I let this rabid mutant in my car with her friends was a miracle in and of itself, primarily because I wanted John to hopefully hit the cute one later. However to get her back I made sure all the windows in the vehicle were rolled down while on the freeway. Her pleas of “I'm cold! Can you roll up window?” (yes that's how she spoke) were completely ignored, and with a hint of satisfaction I might add. I took my vanilla tree car freshener completely out of its cellophane wrapper upon exiting my vehicle. What a dirty animal.

It became John and I's business to completely leave these girls alone the rest of the evening. The smell was far too great and the whole profound entitlement this disgusting and irritating excuse for a chick had during her tenure in my company was not only irritating but also completely appalling. When you have invisible fumes coming off of your body like Pepe Le Pew, how on God's green Earth do you expect anyone to do anything for you for any reason whatsoever? The amazing thing was however, after arriving at the “Eye Candy Visual Lounge and Bar” drunken males in our absence were actually going up and talking to her and the other funkdubious accomplice of the night. It was then that I found that the err of my gender is just so far outside the scope of logical thought and common decency that I realized this is probably why she doesn't practice regular hygiene. Evidently, it doesn't matter. The other thing that threw me was that she just plain wasn't even hot. European girls have a different look. They're not like the cover girl model types we've come to love in the states, they're far from it. But many are still very capable of retaining their feminine attractiveness on a level that can't really be described. I hooked up with a girl from St. Petersburg once a few years back and she was hot, but not American girl hot. Those of you who've been following along this far know what I'm referring to if you've ever gone out with a European girl at some point.

With all that said and done, the bottom line is that ladies, fucking take care of yourselves. Wash yourselves, shower, clean your vaginas if need be, eliminate every possible odor that can emanate off of your body and violate everyone around you. Also, if you're from another country, great; every American's roots are. But godamnit you will learn to bathe and cleanse yourself when you arrive on my shores of freedom. I do not care that this is a free country and that you can do what you want, that freedom is expressly implied to be “within reason.” Furthermore, to be honest when I was in Cali a week ago, I actually ran into this putrid practice with other girls who happened to cross my path at bars, restaurants, etc. Why the fuck is this becoming more common! Go wash your ass!! Maybe you should just fill a bathtub up with lysol and comet and just soak for a few days and kill everything growing on you and in you. This should not be a public service announcement on my site it should be common sense that you learned in health class like in 1^st grade along with brushing your teeth!!

I hope as time goes on the majority of you will start to comprehend my disdain for the human condition as well as the species as a whole.

Girls have NO game, watch this...

I wrote this back in 2007 but it still bares repeating. Enjoy.

I was in Vegas last week staying with a friend and going on job interviews. My friend Jenna whom I was staying with was rarely home due to her job and I was forced to partake in the process of entertaining myself. I'm a hard person to entertain, even when I'm doing the entertaining, but sometimes comedy falls in your lap and you have your cake and it eat too I suppose.

I decided to head to a place called Buffalo Wild Wings on Eastern because its fucking awesome. My boy Phil took me to the one in Arizona and I fell in love with it. So it was like one in the morning and I had a craving for chicken wings, as most men probably have at some point in their life. I roll in solo, sit down, and order myself a Sam Adam's Winter Lager..........because it's winter.

As I'm sitting there perusing the menu, I notice a girl at the bar getting hit on by 3 males. I could tell by their demeanor and the way they were talking they were pretty much your average frustrated chumps in the realm of women. I laughed to myself as I always do and went about ordering some Caribbean Jerk and Spicy Garlic chicken wings.......because again they're awesome.

5 minutes later as I'm watching the UFC fight on TV, the same girl in question approaches my table. Words were spoken...

Girl: "Hey handsome, wanna buy me a drink?"

Dom: (I openly laugh in her face)
"Hey sugar, wanna paint the side of my house?"

Girl: *Blank Stare*

Dom: "Oh, I see, you're confused. Allow me to explain. You see, you approached my table, and instead of saying 'hello' or 'hi my name is so and so' you just asked if I would buy you a drink. That being the case I decided to counter your request with an equally absurd request myself so that you could come to some sort of understanding as to what was coming out of your mouth."

Girl: "I wasn't being mean."

Dom: "No darling, you certainly were not, but you were however, being absurd."

Girl: "Well most guys don't mind."

Dom: "Yes, and see now you're insulting me further by grouping me into the category of 'most guys.' I don't even know you. For all I know you could end up being a mean person, or a man-hater, or an angry, bitter woman whom I'd rather not associate with. And instead of trying to put me at ease you've come over asking for free handouts and I highly doubt, that in the grand scheme of things, that the return on my investment, i.e. you, would be substantial enough to warrant it."

Girl: *Blank stare*

Dom: "It's ok hun, you can go sit back down now. You would have totally had this one though if you had offered to by me a drink first like many other awesome women I've met in the past, and I would have certainly returned the favor shortly thereafter. Remember, I didn't approach you, you approached me, its proper bar etiquette."

Girl: "Ummm, ok."

Dom: "Sweet! Chickens here!" *Lindsay my hot waitress places the wonderful chicken wings on my table and I turned my back on the above girl*

I don't think she's going to recover from that anytime soon. But lets go ahead and look at this situation again for some of you reading. There ARE guys out there that aren't going to buy you a drink just because you're pretty, cute, or drop dead gorgeous. Furthermore, if I don't approach you first, don't assume I'm interested, let alone that I would buy you something as miniscule as a drink. I mean, its almost rude. I felt like I was at a strip club and some stripper was trying to get free red bulls out of me or something, whereas of course I tell them no but at least I'm at a strip club and its to be expected.

I'm glad that you girls go to the gym, get your booby implants, work out your ass and look great for me when you go out, really I am. But again, that doesn't necessarily entitle you to anything because regardless of how gorgeous you may be, you're not going to be my girlfriend anyway. I'll be friends with you, I'll make out with you, in time I'll even take you out to dinner or something after we've consummated our "friendship", but please, PLEASE don't assume anything beforehand. Understand, I'm emotionally unavailable and I make each and every girl whom I go out with aware of this, its not a hidden personality trait. I never lie to girls, I have no reason to.

Note: Just because you may look like this, doesn't mean I'm going to introduce you to my friends Mr. Jackson, Mr. Grant, or Mr. Benjamin. If you're looking for a handout try sugardaddy.com or something. <3

Ultimately all I truly ask is for you to have some proper bar/lounge etiquette, and lets be honest, how cliche is me asking you if I could buy you a drink? That would never happen to begin with. If I think you're awesome and that our conversation is actually leading up to something substantial, sure I'll spring for a round, but understand I'm getting drunk myself and my intoxication takes presidence over yours. I'm also an avid investor in stocks, options, mutual funds, ETF's, REIT's, and other shit you're probably not familiar with. So understand, I'm very good with money. I know where its going, what its doing, and what its going to get me in return. I'm aware of the risks involved and the damage control I need to put in place beforehand. I'm not stingy at all, its only money, but I do command a modicum of respect and further ask that you don't assume I'm an ATM machine like many of the other guys you consort with. Truly, you haven't the slightest idea of who The DomMega is if you partake in this type of activity.

Am I wrong?

Godamn Dude-Bro's!!! (New Year 2009)

I introduce to all of you, the fabled..............."Dude-Bro."

It would be wise of me to preface to the reader that at the time this happened I was wearing my "Thank your girlfriend for me" tshirt as I was making a few rounds about town on New Years. The following story is an exact account of what transpired around 1:43am on New Years morning, just a few hours before actually writing this, and it will be short. It was far too comical not to blog though so here it is.

I had originally made a few stops here and there as well as went down to the strip for a bit with an associate to see Benny Keneival (sp?) jump over some shit as well as check out some Cris Angel magic time. I would estimate that about 15 minutes after New Years morning I decided to leave and get off the strip to beat the traffic and mobs of people.

I wanted to head to Vox to check in with someone I know there about a possible evening bartending position as well as say hello to the guy on New Years as we tend to have good rapport and I figured it to be a decent exchange of pleasantries to start the year off right.

I pulled up in the parking lot and noticed that there was an $80 entrance fee and I wasn't paying that just to go say hello to a business contact of mine so I proceeded to walk back to my car to go purchase some alcohol to take back to my base of operations. I was walking by an SUV with a dude-bro sitting in the passenger seat and his girlfriend driving. Words........were.......spoken.

Dude-bro: "Hey bro, I don't think your shirts funny. I don't get it."

*I take one look at this douchebag and know that the reason for his soul's existence is to look tough in front of his girlfriend. So I decide to tempt the hands of fate*

Dom: "I'm sorry to hear that. You know I was in a liquor store just 15 minutes ago and saw that a child at about the age of 10 laugh after reading it and then proceed to show his mother who also laughed as well as comment about it being funny. I can't say that I know where exactly that puts YOU on the evolutionary scale, but I would estimate you may be the ape in the middle who's still dragging his knuckles on the ground. Blame Darwin."

Dude-bro: .................."did you just make fun of me bro?"

Dom: "I don't know. Think about it. Did I?" (I give him a puzzled look and I start thinking 'Am I in Valencia?')

Dude-bro: *seriously takes a second to think about what had just transpired and mentally go over the conversation in his head*
"HEY! I think you just made fun of me!"

Dom: "Are you sure?" *I actually see his girlfriend try to hide her laughter at this point*

Dude-bro: ..........................................."Yeah, I know you were! I should kick your ass!"

Dom: "I'm right here sugar, lets get 2009 started off right!" (I'm older now but I'll still fight the good fight against those who at one time rode the short bus.)

......at this point his girlfriend begins to hold him back and tells him to get in the car and then this gem shot forth from his dude-bro mouth and I swore to God that I was back in Santa Clarita.

Dude-bro: "You're lucky my girl's holding me back bro!"

Dom: (I openly laugh in his face) "Yes, thank God she was here to protect and sustain my life. Is that a tap-out shirt or is that stars and straps? Are you a trained cage fighter?"

Dude-bro: "I'll fucking kill you bro!"

Dom: "With your iron fists of fury and supreme intellect no doubt."

*He gets in and they both drive away. He flips me off to show me he's tough, so I moon him.*

In closing, if you ever are confused as to whether or not you're talking to a dude-bro, all you have to know is that they end each sentence with "bro." They use it kind of how smurfs use the word "smurf" in sentences, except of course that smurfs are far more creative with their verbage.

Happy New Year everyone. Apparently, I still got it.

The Perfect Guy and How he Doesn't Exist Ladies...

(Originally posted on myspace ca. 2005)

As I'm quite so often bored at work just browsing the millions of people here, I often find blogs and surveys within you ladies' pages about the perfect such and such. Aside from being merely copied and pasted as well as having absolutely no creativity whatsoever, I still find even more faults with it. What I'm going to be commenting about today is your very own utopian ideals of "The Perfect Guy." I'm also going to completely expose how such a thing comes to be and how very little magic is actually involved in the process itself. If you don't wish to become demistified of this whole phenomena, I don't suggest reading any further. For those of you willing to take the plunge into actual reality and enlightenment, I encourage you to continue.

You see we as men are human. Like all species incapable of perfection as well as a multitude of other things. Another word like monogamy comes to mind, but there's been a select few of us able to pull off such things as the latter. Good for them. But I think there's some major vagueries of perception going on here and I feel it my duty as usual to point them out to you. If I don't do it, who else will? Probably someone who doesn't have even the slightest grasp of the english language to be sure, and where will that get you? Nowhere, so lets continue.

We as men are not a package deal. We're usually one of two things in MOST cases. The nice guy, or the asshole. There's a few subtle categories in between but these are definitely the most common, so these will be the two I compare and contrast. Contrary to popular belief, the nice guy is far from being perfect. He has so many of his own insecurites and needs to constantly validate his existence by always spoiling a member of the fairer sex, that this person's a headcase. Definitely more trouble than he's worth in most cases. In many ways, its like dating another female by the mere emotional displays and outbursts these nice guys tend to have. Its like they've got a great big hole right through the center of them and they can never buy enough, love enough, or ever receive enough attention from a woman to fill it. When all is said and done it pretty much comes down to mental weakness and lack of personality. These are the same guys who fear what a bunch of people in a room that they don't even know, think about them. I'm not hating, only being real.

The asshole is seductive in and of himself as well as in his own right. Even so, still far from perfect. Assholes usually have one single solitary goal, ass beckons and they oblige. They've become adapted for the hunt and attack their prey with absolute precision, but even so have their own inconsistencies. Because this genre of male is never truly happy with just one woman, you as the woman will never truly be happy with him. But I'm willing to bet money that you'll constantly find yourself going back to him because he's illicited what you deem to be perfection in your mind. He just poeticizes it in your own slightly warped reality. Funny isn't it? So I guess it could be said that perfection as well as beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Men of this sort really bring absolutely nothing to the table. There's very little emotion, caring, or all out attention in general given to the lady. Thats not what they exceed in doing. What they exceed in doing is making you work to get into their good graces and gain their affections. This is no easy task and will probably take you many months and sometimes years to accomplish. And here's the humdinger, they'll probably never be happy with JUST you. Hehe, seriously, thats some shit isn't it? Bringing me of course to my final points.....

When is it that this perfection materializes in our own realities? Now keep in mind I said "realities" not fantasy or subconcious planes of an altered dream state. I'm sure we can all dream away for days at a time thinking about someone we believe to be our perfect match. In that realm, often who we see ourselves with, we also see ourselves leaving in real life if such a union were to take place. We like to think in dreams and other subconcious roles we can overlook certain attributes of the opposite sex that we find unattractive, annoying, and downright embarassing. This only works for so long during the initial dating timespan before we just end whatever relations we have with this person. Sometimes the aspects are more physical but the bottom line is, if there's something we don't like right off the bat, we'll usually end things right then and there.

Now, I'm going to tell you when the only time perfection will ever exist for you, seriously. This so-called "perfection" you women speak so fondly of will only happen when you actually succumb and surrender yourself to someone, both mentally and physically. Once you're in this heightened state of whats often referred to as "being in-love" will be when perfection materializes itself to you. When you become so in thralled with the person you're with and are actually in-love with them (which borders on actual insanity) only then will you see flawlessness in your partner. Why do you think the sex is so good when you reach this point? Uncomparable to anyone else prior, right? Exactly and now the things that use to bother you before will no longer matter. His bad habits, immaturity, stupid jokes, and insecurities will be of no consequence. You've just alleviated all his faults and weaknesses within your own mind. You're in such a deep emotional congruency with one another you both overlook all the serious abnormalities of the other and find yourselves in perfect harmony with your partner. I give you ladies and gentleman.........love. Or in this case, perfection and "The Perfect Guy." This is what such a thing consists of, don't get the game distorted. Like I said in the beginning, just vagueries of perception brought forth by your own dulling of the senses over time to find harmony and magic with your partner. Nothing more.

I just had to point that out to all of you with your head in the clouds. Being a romantic is fine, but there's others of you I read about here who need serious help with interpretation of such things. Get a clue, you're only setting yourself up for major disappointment if you think there's even the slightest bit of magic or greater powers at work here. I transcend reality to the best of my ability, and I think many people often get that confused with these dillusions of grandjeur you all talk so much about, hehe. Thank you.