Thursday, November 17, 2005

I might like you better if we slept together. I might like you better if we slept together. There's something in your eyes that says, "Maybe."

A few odds and ends-

These are search terms that people used to find this blog in the last couple days:

Woman who snort coke and fuck

Perfect soul

Such a fool

Word on the street

Never mess with a sicilian

30,000 calories


Interesting. Especially the poor guy from Portugal who stumbled in here looking to party with some coke whores. (Incidentally, Google directed him to the "I'm afraid of Americans" post.)
==============
An observation:

Now, I know I haven't been here nearly long enough to start acting all "I-am-a-high-and-mighty-local-where-the-fuck-did-all-these-Californians-come-from-and-Damn-Them-for-driving-up-real-estate-prices-and-making-me-a-millionaire." *cue Navin R. Johnson- "I DAMN THEE!"*

This is more of a Public Service Announcement. It's for your own good.

A lot of tourists do come through here, all year long. They come to go to Yellowstone and Grand Teton. They come to fly-fish. They come to hunt elk. They come to snowmobile. They come to ski. They come to experience "The Great Outdoors." Mind you, many of them never actually leave their automobiles, but, hey... I am glad they are experiencing it any way they can.

But I'm talking to you here, Mr. Tourist.

OK, Indiana Jones was cool. You know it. I know it. Even dogs know it.

The whip was cool. The way he shot that dude with the swords was cool... and his hat was cool.

But it's not cool on you.

Some people can rock the Indiana Jones hat and look cool with it. But that is a very small percentage of the population. Shit, I can't rock one, even though I wish to hell I could. I love Indiana Jones. I just can't rock it. I am more of a "fez" guy, really. In fact, I bet if Ashton wore one, he could make it cool. (My Ashton, not the 70's show cocktoaster. He'd look like even more of an ass than he does in the stupid fucking trucker hat.)

But you, sir, cannot rock it.

You know who you are. You have a pot belly. You're wearing a fanny pack. You're bald...ing. You're wearing chinos and loafers. You're strolling down Main St. in Bozeman, with your hands in your pockets, wearing an Indiana Jones hat. You're eyeing a sporty fly-fishing vest and thinking it is really going to put you over the top.

It's cool. I understand. You're on vacation. You rented the big SUV at the airport so you can survive the rugged interstate. You even requested brush guards on the taillights. You know, in case you back over a rose bush or something.

I can dig it; you're roughing it. You booked a room at a bed and breakfast instead of a hotel. You're living on the edge.

It's all good. Welcome. Have a great time. Just re-think the Indy hat, mmmkay?

Consider sporting a recreational mustache instead. I think the Magnum PI is going to make a huge comeback.

7 Comments:

Blogger Bobby said...

I'd get eaten by bears if I went out there. I have some cousins and an uncle out there though.

6:08 PM  
Blogger Paulette said...

Cocktoaster! Love.it.

6:39 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I remember this barber I once knew. He was a real 'stoner'.

He'd sit in the barber shop all day and then when people would come for haircuts after work, you'd find him sitting in the local bar!

Anyways, one day talk got around to the Peruvian Marching Powder of which he was a protagonist of.

"You do blow Brushman?"

"Nah"

He then gives me this incredulous look and says,


"So how do you expect to shag??!!"

He sure sounded 'cool' saying that but he was a total mess.

Lousy barber too.

8:41 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Nothing worse than your hair stylist strung out on coke or crystal meth. Speaking of hair stylists - I'm in a groove with the sweetest girl who's been cutting my hair. Ashley's about 27 and a natural beauty, easy to talk with and the most gentle touch. I'm giving her about 2 years until she's fallen madly in love with me, leaves her studly boyfriend and insists that I leave my wife of 11 years for her. Of course, I'll have to resist initially but then we'll go out for a drink and in a drunken haze, we both agree I should live one of those secret, double lives - and live happily ever after!

9:12 PM  
Blogger Nancy said...

i love the word cocktoaster too. i will have to use it now.

by the way--my favorites are the one piece snowsuits and ridiculously expensive--over-insulated (or just furry) snow-boots when there is no snow and it isn't even all that cold.
you know-- the ones that look like they were taken from an Inuit. they have no purpose, look stupid, and are very clear markers of tour-ons with too much money.

11:17 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"You rented the big SUV at the airport so you can survive the rugged interstate. You even requested brush guards on the taillights. You know, in case you back over a rose bush or something."...or maybe said SUV renter is just being cautious of what might happen to said tail lights if by chance they roll that SUV into a shallow ditch outside of an empty A-frame on thinly iced roads on their way up to Big Sky...

8:46 AM  
Blogger Joe said...

Oooooh, SNAP!

Now Charlize... get your facts straight... Antuan and I were NOT wearing our Indy hats at the time. And had we gotten the brushguard option, it would have prevented the entire ugly incident.

Instead, Antuan urged me to ask for the Spinning Rims and Booming Woofer option on the SUV, so he would feel more like a "baller."

Because that's just how we roll.

11:12 AM  

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