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CarlitoJERK
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Name: Matthew
Birthday: 3/27/1984
Gender: Male
Interests: music. BOB DYLAN. Guitar solos. Rigid harmonica solos. baseball/Chicago Cubs(CUB), Notre Dame football. breaking stuff at parties that's not mine. Letting people pay me. Beer. Concerts(Live ones only).
Expertise: eating, coughing, and farting. Expert at not shutting my mouth at the right times. Rigid harmonica solos. Customer service. Guns. Knives. Getting lost in Iowa City. Doing bad in school. Rolling like a Stone. Getting stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again. Melting back into the night. Paying late fees. Hanging out with Jose Canseco. Getting caught with stiroids. Tailgating drunk(Sobriety doesn't exist), consistently drunk/beer. Looking like a big jerk.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message me
AIM:  xwf2k2
Member Since:
3/15/2005
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| Been awhile since I ate greasy fast food in my car. So as I was barreling down 380 with a rancid Mickey D's Burger in one hand, and the wheel in the other, I began talking to myself loudly. This is a usual occurrence in the Metallicar since I don't have a radio/stereo. I began narrating my 2009 in a Bono-like voice. Why him I'm not too sure. "The bud of 2009, the birth began as promising as ever." From there it spiraled into a series of disappointments and missed opportunities that slipped like grain through my hands. Not all was bad, I coped with weekend warriors/the Usual Suspects (PJ, Andy, Brian, Kalina, Brent, etc.) and drank my ambivalent circumstances into a fine paste undertow where nothing too terrible really mattered. A lot of these I set myself up for. Some I didn't. Either way, it was one of the worst on record in the "Left the nest" era. This picture sums up my 2009:
Oh yeah, I was gonna post my Top albums of the year, that's still coming, I know all one/two of you will care that read this. Down the road I'll do my top 25 of the decade. That'll be tough.
So anyway, here's to 2010, may you be far better than the wretched 2009.
Also, I concentrate way too much on my "Currently Listening" section of this post. Right now, an incredible song with big aspirations is playing in the background as I type this. A song for 2010 probably my favorite Oasis song...
"Hey! Stay young, and invincible."
Those Gallagher brothers sure made some incredible music back in the day.
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| Snowed in today, maybe snowed in again tomorrow. Apparently there's a two foot drift blocking my only way outta here according to Brian. I'm pretty worried I'm gonna have a 'The Shining' moment here, if that's the case... Brian is fucked and cannot even heed this warning, because he doesn't even check Xanga anymore.
If I am snowed in tomorrow again, maybe I'll get more of a head start on my ambitious 15 best albums of 2009, as well as 25 best albums of the decade. Why do I do this kind of stuff? I guess I'm just trying to keep the light from dimming any more than it already has...
"The fire's gone out, but the light is never dying"
-Bob Dylan
I wish you could all be transported here in capsules safely through the blizzard with your favorite lovers and be nWo snowed in here with me. Or at very least, have a very strong person throw all of you safely here from your other cities. Have a keg, case races, something. Then we would work up the drunken courage to go outside and scream at the snow's butthole. If this is to be my last passage, when they find my naked body frozen in two feet of snow 69'ing with a beautiful lady who had also succumbed to the elements, please animate me into a gnarly position for a funeral. Actually, You could probably just prop me upright with the lady for the funeral for a standing 69, then the great debate can rage on after the funeral:
Funeral attendee 1: "Well at least he went out 69'ing with a beautiful lady, like a MAN!"
Funeral attendee 2: "No man I heard he was setting her up for the Tombstone Piledriver. Going out with a pro wrestling move, like a MAN!"
Funeral attendee 3: "You guys are both wrong, I heard he was 69'ing, and then after he was finished he was gonna pull a swerve, turn heel and drop her head with a Tombstone Piledriver. He was gonna do BOTH! REAL MAN! CAME OF AGE!"
Ronnie Avenue signing off...
'Live Free Or Die Hard' is ridiculous.
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| Dear John,
THE FOLLIES OF DAN/DON HOPPER/HOOPER & BRENT BLANK
I have written the story you requested! I got an unusual phone call from one Don Hooper saying he wanted to get "stupid drunk" with us on Saturday night in Iowa City. We had already been drinking long and hard after a horrible day of college football. Hooper showed up and he seemed somewhat sober. Then we flash forward an hour later, and Hooper could barely stand. The next day Hooper called me and said, "Oh hey Ahurhlund I didn't do anything stupid last night did I? Like say stupid shit, or play grab ass with chicks, or hit on chicks did I?" My response was "No man, you were fine." We head BACK to the night before. Hooper was wasted hitting on every chick he saw. Then he kept disappearing for long periods of time. I finally went outside to try and get him a ride home from Paige's parents who lived in Iowa City. His phone of course died so he was trying to make several calls on my phone. He made a few more cat calls at some more girls then he started to pass out on a bench. I revived him, took him back inside to get some water. Hooper then said he had a ride and disappeared. A good person probably would have tried to follow him to make sure he had a ride. I guess I'm not a good person, plus I myself was wasted but was still way more responsible than Dan some how. I had a great rest of the night continuing to drink long and hard, assuming Dan got somewhere safe.
Let's switch over to the Brent Blank tragedy. Brent is a master at puking in people's cars or making them pull over on 380 for him to barf. Fortunately he made it slightly past 380 on our ride back to get Brian's car and to look for Brent's keys in Iowa City. He made it to Melrose. Brent was in my back seat and he stated he had to puke. Brian confirmed when he looked back and saw Brent's chin twitching and he started swallowing heavily. Luckily I have trash all over my car and several empty bags. Brent grabbed a bag from my back seat and said, "Oh God, worst day evvvv........(Barfing begins)!" We got back to Brian's car after losing our heads listening to Brent puke and lament and of course, Brent's keys were not there. Go figure, some how his idiot ass lost them in the greater Iowa City area. So I drove Brent who looked and felt horrible and did not have keys to get into his car or house back to our place. On the way back he started to grab more bags from my floor. He said, "Here it comes agai....(Cue barf torrents II)!" I was laughing but I almost barfed at watching him barf. Later on I had to give him a ride all the way to CR and back to his car at our place. "Well yeah, I have a spare for my house and my car, but they're locked inside at my house." -Brent Blank
Back to Hooper. I got a call from him Sunday night about what happened to him on part II of his night. He never got a ride to Paige's parent's house. Paige's parents according to Dan live out by Regina High School. This is nowhere close to downtown Iowa City. Probably four miles or more. Don said he walked for about two and a half hours and got lost several times. He got to their house and began ringing their doorbell repeatedly in the middle of the night since his phone was dead. They finally woke up and answered to a wasted Dan. This was pretty good already, but Dan made the situation even more awkward. He passed out on the couch momentarily until he decided he was going to barf. He tried to make it to the bathroom and failed. Barfed all over their floor instead. Made it to the bathroom and then barfed all over the bathroom. Returned to the couch and barfed all over the floor one more time. What was really great is he made no attempt to clean this at all until the morning so Paige's parents saw the entire mess. Like something out of a sitcom, but Dan actually lived it. Barfing all over your in-laws' house after waking them up in the middle of the night, walking there from several miles away wasted= The perfect math.
Well this is probably my last post from this ol' Gateway. Seen me through a lotta good times. Lots of papers for school, lots of wasted internet time/procrastinating, lots of porno viruses. Good night Gateway, I will probably be breaking you and Shawn's computer on New Year's after several keg cups of beer with a baseball bat or something.
ffffffffffffttttttt(slow burning turd)
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| Don't know why I thought of this today but I been thinking about going to either Kansas City or Chicago for St. Patty's day...
 or 
Goddamn I can't wait for my new laptop to get here. This computer sucks the big one.
When life starts getting better maybe I'll drink a little slower.
Well that's it...
Oh yeah, and listening to and watching The Killers live makes me want to have a dance-off/strut-off party on a giant face made out of strobe lights.
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| Too late on the Sunset Strip/IC...
I don't usually write about wasted nights much on here anymore, because I only usually measure how drunk I am on whether I barf or not and it's been awhile. At 25, you pry should be more responsible with your drinking and not puke. Not this guy. At least not on Saturday. We returned to the KalinaDome after the Iowa game Saturday afternoon and I was just finally recovering from the previous night, also in IC. The Kalina's had passed out/disappeared and that left me with just Krishna for the afternoon, who couldn't drink because of his rancid liver. So I grabbed a 2/3 full bottle or so of Kahlua that Shawn and Corey didn't want and began going to town. Why not? It was delicious. My mistake was mixing in the rest of my six Icehouses and a couple Coors Lights while winding my way to the bottom of that bottle. We got to DC's where I remember very little. I remember talking to my brother and cousin for awhile. Then I remember Andy and I walking down an alley where I let loose with the barf. A few people walked by and I started walking away like nothing happened. Once they passed I began barfing in a new doorway. After that I frantically made my way back into the bar looking for a sink to wash the barf chunks out of my beard, and get a piece of gum. It's been a long time since I barfed that much. We went to Deadwood after that where Lennie tried to steal a pumpkin and there was almost a brawl between Andy, Lennie, and I with some underage punks thinking they could beat us in a smoke off. It was a pretty good night from what I remembered.
On another note, I know a lot of girls have been getting moist for that vampire Twilight shit for awhile now, but it didn't really bug me that much until around now. For some reason they are going nuts for that rancid Twilight movie at Nordstrom, showing it everyday in the cafeteria, and there's cardboard cut-outs of those bums in the warehouse. What ever happened to fearing the common vampire? Napah! When vampires were killer action heroes? Now it's all about vampires cuddling and watching romantic comedies while sipping blood juice boxes (Nowhere close to blood martinis homo vamps!) Fuck, you know what? Back in the day, Blade, you know what he got? Cuddling? No. He got anal! No prob. Blade didn't have to be romantic. He just destroyed shit, killed villains, and girls threw themselves at him. Vampire chicks, regular chicks, black chicks!
Which brings me to my next point, there is only one real life vampire and his name is Lemmy Kilmister. There was a great article done on him in the latest Rolling Stone entitled, "Vampire of the Sunset Strip". I knew he was a decadent guy, but I didn't know just how deep the well ran. At 63, it seems there is no stopping him either. It swayed me into being Lemmy for Halloween, sick warts and all...
 
Taking the place of me ol' costume, Kenny Fuckin' Powers...
Sorry Kenny, couldn't find a Jheri curl mullet that looked like yours. And Brent didn't want to be my assistant Stevie also (Watch the show Eastbound & Down, Brent would be a total shoe in for Stevie).
Instead Brent has chosen to be? Wait for it... wait for it... a pirate. Another flaccid idea from Brent, no creativity at all. What a let down. I love that Brent doesn't read this anymore and I can trash him. Actually, I already trashed him to his face for this so you can go ahead and tell him if you want. I usually get pissed at Brent on Halloween because his costumes are so awful. I don't think it's because he lacks creativity. Brent's one of the most creative guys I know, I thinks it's his constant overlying fear of the public's perception of him. Which is a ridiculous train of thought because it's goddamn Halloween! Everyone is supposed to look ridiculous! In all actuality by not going out of his comfort zone (ever for that matter) he's pry the one that gains the most criticism and jeers. From me and his other close peers certainly, but strangers look at him seeing a dime a dozen dude. For instance, I have a perfect idea for Brent and his weird hairstyle...
=
There Brent! Ozymandias from The Watchmen. Sauce.
All right, I'm done picking on Brent for now. God, his Halloween costumes suck though. What's he been so far? Cedric Shaw(Just a Cedric Shaw jersey, should've at least painted his entire body brown), a terrible looking Curt Schilling looking more like a kid needing to be picked up from tee ball(Although this was his best stab at originality), A stay at home Dad/Shitty Johnny Cash/???(Just showed up dressed in a black shirt, gloves, and pants), a uhh... a ghoul?(A plain ghost costume), and an agent from the Matrix(Which only required him to wear a suit and shades, stupid). Maybe I just put so much pressure on and am so critical of Brent because he's incredibly self-conscious and closeted 365 days a year when he's not around the usual crowd. We can take it down to 364 days Brent, let loose on this one, look fuckin' ridiculous God dammit. Okay now I'm done.
Actually that was pretty much all I had right now. Made a weird purchase the other day though. Three Motorhead albums and Bob Dylan's Christmas album. I actually like the Dylan Christmas album quite a bit, there's some good laughs in there and I genuinely enjoy some of the tracks as well. I've had Christmas music shoved down my throat at home, work, and church among other places most of my life. It'll be nice around the holidays to unleash this upon unsuspecting ears. And when my Mom goes to turn on a John Tesh radio show or a Josh Groban(Was told I looked like him a little bit at work awhile back by a dumb ass old lady. A large reason for me re-growing a beard) Christmas album, instead, coming out of the speakers will be the rocks 'n' gravel vocals of one Bob Dylan.
Oh yeah, the Motorhead albums are pretty good too...
Onward to kegs 'n' Halloween!
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