Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Celebrity Encounter: Kevin Love
A few weeks back, I had dranken myself into a retarded state at the Westwood Brewing Company.
My friend Alene and I were getting ready to leave, but all of the sudden out of the corner of my eye, I spot a 6'8 giant standing in the corner of the bar. It was none other than NBA player (and UCLA alum), Kevin Love.
"Oh shit!" I thought to myself.
"perfect chance for a photo op!"
Mr. Love seemed to just be relaxing and enjoying his beer (possibly illegally?) and really didn't seem like he wanted to be bothered.
Of course, that didn't stop me.
I leaned over to Alene, "alright, you gotta take a pic of me and Mr. Love!"
I squeezed my way through the crowded bar to get closer to Mr. Love himself.
Not really thinking, I walked up to Mr. Love as he was in the middle of a conversation and tried to get his attention.
At first, he did not seem to notice my presence, maybe due to the fact that he was 11-inches taller than me.
I had to act quickly, so without thinking, I did the first thing that came to my mind.
I walked up closer to Mr. Love and gave him a friendly punch in the chest. (just like friends do)
He stopped talking to whoever he was talking to and just blankly stared down at me.
I didn't really know what to do or say at this point, it had finally registered in my mind that I had just walked up and punched a 6'8 Kevin Love and acted as if we had been friends forever.
So I just uttered the first words that came into my brain:
Me: "Um, can I take a picture with you?"
Kevin Love: "uhh...yeah sure"
So, we posed for a quick snapshot compliments of Alene's iphone.
I was definitely feeling pretty awkward at this point, so in an attempt to gain back some of my dignity, I turned around to Mr. Love and said, "Thanks man, I'm a really big fan" and then hold out my fist for the ultimate sign of camaraderie, 'the fist pound'.
He looked at me for a second, I think it took him a second to realize that this was indeed actually happening.
After leaving me hanging for what felt like an eternity, our fists finally pounded and he just simply quipped, "yeah, thanks."
"good one Russ, you fucking idiot..."
I quickly turned around and left asap.
"Whatever, at least I got a cool pic with Kevin Love, I'm gonna make that shit my new default on Facebook." I thought to myself.
Alene told me she had emailed me the picture.
So when I got home, I hurried to open my email and check out my cool new souvenir.
"AHHHHH WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!"
There's no justice in this world.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Celebrity Encounter: Zlatan Ibrahimovic
A few weeks back, Italian champions, Internazionale Milan FC was holding their preseason training at the UCLA soccer fields. Upon learning this, the first thought that popped into my mind was "I gotta meet ZLATAN!"
For those who are unaware, Zlatan Ibrahimovic was the star player for Inter as well as one of the best strikers in the world.
A few days had passed since Inter first arrived at UCLA, and I had still not yet seen any of the players. I was busy with summer school and other shit, and kept on missing the opportunities to meet some players. Many of my friends had encountered Zlatan at the school gym or other places around campus.
On one fateful day, I had just returned from class and begun to take a nap. After about 20 minutes of napping I got a phone call from my good friend Seda, using some random person's cell phone...
Me: Hello?
Seda: RUSSELL, IT'S SEDA. COME DOWN TO PAULEY RIGHT NOW! THE INTER PLAYERS ARE SIGNING AUTOGRAPHS. HURRY!
*click*
So I quickly got up from my nap and walked as fast as I could to Pauley Pavillion.
Right as I arrived at Pauley, I saw Marco Materazzi getting escorted in a golf cart to the fields. Everybody was shouting his name, "Materazzi! Materazzi!"
As he drove past me, I decided to be a little different, hoping that he would notice. I Yelled out "Hey Marco!"
He looked up at me and gave me a wave.
A few minutes later, the Swedish superstar himself made his way out of the locker room. the fans started to go crazy. "ZLATAN! ZLATAN!"
The 6'4 giant quickly got into the golf cart and drove off. As he drove, I started jumping up and down waving my arms around as if I was a 13 yr old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert. "Zlatan!" I shouted continuously. The little prick ignored me (I know he heard & saw me!) and proceeded to put on his sunscreen as he got chauffeured to the soccer field.
"That little fuck!"
Inter had a scrimmage with the UCLA soccer team. It was a private match that was only open to friends/family of both teams and UCLA VIP. Seda and I quickly decided that we must see the game and see Zlatan in action.
We proceeded to get caught trying to sneak in. Twice.
Finally we decided to give up and get lunch.
After lunch, we had noticed that the scrimmage was over and players were being escorted back to the locker room and some players were signing autographs.
As Seda and I were waiting for more players to arrive, Chad "Ocho Stinko" Johnson casually walked past me with his girlfriend. Seeing as how everybody standing around was a futbol fan, he went by relatively unnoticed. I quickly turned to Seda
Me: "Seda thats fucking Ocho Cinco! where's your camera? nobody's even talking to him! I wanna get some pix w/ him"
Seda: "Russell I didn't bring it!"
Me: "fuck..."
So several Inter players arrived and signed autographs, including Cordoba, Diego Milito, and Cambiasso. I was freaking out because I didn't have anything for any of these guys to sign!
Finally, the man himself arrived!
But the little shit-stain ignored the fans and walked straight into the locker room.
After about twenty more minutes, Zlatan reappeared and began to sign autographs.
"Fuck me, this is my chance to finally meet Zlatan, and I don't have anything for him to sign or a god damn camera!"
It was at that moment that it struck me.
I took off my right shoe, and held it high in the air and ran towards the swarm of screaming fans.
As I rushed to get Zlatan's signature, I was attacked by elbows and shoves by other fans hoping to get the same signature.
"There is fucking no way that these little foreign faggots around me are gonna beat me to this. I am GOING to get Zlatan to sign this fucking shoe, even if it kills me!"
I finally pushed my way to the front and had jumped over a middle-aged Italian woman, and at long last, my stinky white Nike was perfectly placed in front of Zlatan's face. I saw him look at it. He pulled out his black sharpie and began to sign it.
"YES! SUCCESS!"
He had finished signing my shoe and moved on to the next autograph.
The excitement was killing me. It was time for me to take a look at my Nike sneaker with the brand new Zlatan Ibrahimovic signature!
I brought the shoe back down and took a look.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?!!"
The sight that lay before me had made my blood begin to boil.
"That fucking Swedish piece of shit!"
That's not a fucking autograph!
As luck would have it, just a few days later, Zlatan was traded to Barcelona FC.
Coincidentally Barcelona is scheduled to arrive at UCLA this Wednesday for preseason training, meaning that I am going to find Zlatan again and demand a proper autograph!
until then, he is dead to me.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Never Trust a Woman from Barcelona
Apparently every summer, UCLA undergoes an invasion of Europeans looking to take some summer classes while enjoying the beautiful sunny weather and ambiance of Los Angeles. There are currently French, Spanish, German, and Italian students aged 16-26 at every turn. Summer school is pretty much an excuse for the Europeans to go out and see the glitz and glamor of LA during the peak summer months.
A few nights ago, my roommates and I went "bar-hopping" in Westwood (there are only 2 bars in Westwood). It was a typical Tuesday night, we started off at the Westwood Brewing Company
for "Electro Tuesday". We grabbed a few drinks and put on a little show on the dance floor. After a little bit, we decided that we have had enough and were ready to move on to the next bar, O'hara's (more commonly known as Maloney's). Right as we walk in, I notice that this place is packed tighter than my butt. Spaniards and Frenchmen everywhere. My roommates and I begin to walk around the bar, trying to find a place to sit. As I'm walking around, I feel someone grab my arm.
I look and see this short brown haired girl wearing a really ugly dress.
I'm just thinking "wtf?"
So I say: "um..what?"
Her: "You cannot walk by here."
Me: "why not?"
Her: "Because I do not know your name."
I started to blush a little bit..
Me: "My name is Russell, whats your name?"
I forgot what she said her name was...
Her: "Where are you from?"
Me: "I'm from around here, where are you from?"
Her: "Barcelona"
Me: "oh very cool, I want to visit there sometime."
Her:"would you like to dance?"
Me: "sure"
So we start to dance on the dance floor and she quickly starts to get really freaky.
I wasn't too attracted to this girl and her dancing started to make me uncomfortable.
She had no rhythm whatsoever, and quite frankly couldn't keep up with my fast-paced sensual teasing and grinding. She started to deliver those "signs", the kind that mean 'I want you bad'. I wasn't too thrilled about this, but I thought to myself "well, I've never hooked up with a foreign chick before, so this could be kind of cool?"
My lips slowly made their way to her neck and I gradually and smoothly moved my way upwards to her lips, leaving her quivering with excitement. After about 10 seconds, I decided that this broad was just too much of a rook.
"ok fuck this shit, this chick cant kiss and she smells bad." I thought to myself.
so After a short while, the girl abruptly stops and goes "ok I'll be right back"
And at that moment, I quickly ran the other direction.
As I was running away, I looked over my shoulder and noticed that she was doing the same thing.
"Wait a second. that's not right. only I'm supposed to be running away"
So I meet up with my roommates...
My roommate Ben goes, "Ru$, where have you been?"
Me: "dude, I just hooked up w/ a girl from Barcelona on the dance floor, it was kinda weird."
Ben: "haha no way me too"
Me: "um what?"
Ben: "yeah, it was like 10 minutes ago"
"Hmmm this sounds a little fishy, please god don't tell me I just got Ben's sloppy seconds."
Ben started to notice the disgruntled look on my face.
Ben: "haha was she short, with brown hair and braces?"
"phew, thank god. the girl I hooked up with didn't have braces. Can't be the same girl"
Me: Nah, the girl I hooked up with didn't have braces.
Ben: oh ok.
It was at that precise moment that the girl from Barcelona walked right through Ben and me.
She pretended not to see me, as she made her way through the crowded bar.
I quickly looked over at Ben.
Ben: "was that the girl you hooked up with?"
Me: "yeah.."
Ben: "Me too."
"GOD FUCKING DAMN IT."
Summer '09 update
-I'm currently enrolled in Summer School and totally DGAF'ing.
-UCLA during the summer time is a hot-spot for celebrity sightings (Inter Milan FC, Terrell Owens, Chad Ocho Cinco, Pete Sampras, and Kevin Love to name a few)
-We have a new Roommate from Germany here for the summer.
-I've been doing some exploring of the surrounding LA area
-Victor (aka Pricktor) is back from Madrid
-Apparently Jayson is (officially)gay now?
More stories to come..
Sunday, May 10, 2009
WE'RE BACKKK!
once again, I apologize for the long hiatus, but we are finally back at long last!
A lot has happened since we last posted.
Let me bring you up to speed:
-Nick has been dealing with an ongoing identity crisis as well as some major emotional and
commitment issues.
-Victor has been living the good life in Madrid and making admirable additions to his resume.
He will be making his return to the good ol' US of A next week.
-Tommy is back and no longer abstinent to alcohol abuse (and yes, he is gayer than ever)
-Jayson is still trying to perfect his Rocket technology and will be lifeguarding this summer in Santa Barbara.
-Denny got into Vanguard University and is Ballin' for their Men's Basketball Team next year. Unfortunately (not really), He will no longer be making any more additions to the blog seeing as how he is not entertainining, nor is he "extra-horny".
-I (Ru$$) have just wrapped up my first year at UCLA, and now currently enjoying the DGAF lifestyle.
BUT LASTLY AND MOST IMPORTANTLY I AM NOW 21 YEARS OF AGE!
I have now entered adulthood, and at what perfect timing!
As many of you have noticed, the cloudy skies have finally began to clear and TANK (top) SEASON is upon us!
Despite the fact that I am starting summer school next week-- for the next three months, reading, writing, and studying are no longer my business.
This summer (just like every other) will be dedicated to relaxation and fornication.
We have been saving up some of our latest tales and adventures.
So be sure to stay tuned for some more tasteless and classless commentary from Nick Burke!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
News Update
First and foremost, let us apologize for the extended hiatus we have been facing here. The League of Extra Horny Gentlemen is currently going through a rough time. I've been busy trying not to get kicked out of UCLAME. Other members have also been occupied battling off spiraling depression, winning NCAA championships, searching for jobs, and well, other members have just been lazy (ahem...Victor). But fear NOT loyal fans!
We will be back stronger than ever with stories, tales & videos that will blow your socks off!
Stay Tuned!
-Staff (Ru$$)
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Rocket skates and other shit
what can i say, i like rockets. the skates didn't work as i had originally planned, but there's always room for improvement. trial and error my friends. stay tuned for rocket skates episode 2 in the future. but for now, enjoy:
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Jager-Shit-Meister Response #2: The Perpetrators
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
B-E-N-E-F-I-C-I-A-L?
Well, it was.
After a full 3 hours and a bluebook and a half of writing, my dome was 100% burnt out (not surprisingly).
Yet, it was time for my concluding sentence and I wanted to use the word "beneficial" in it. Like I said, my brain was fried. So fried that my attempts to spell the word "beneficial" were something like:
benificial?
benifitial?
benifisial?
benuhficial?
benefitial?
benefishul?
I know how ridiculous that sounds. I couldn't believe how retarded my brain was.
I finally got B-E-N-E-F-I-C-I-A-L! just as time expired. I wish i could see the look on my TA's face when she reads my test with "beneficial" crossed out 6 times, haha.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
G-String In Jail
different camera, different angle:
On the night of November 5, at Harder Stadium, UCSB, I was arrested and hauled to the Santa Barbara County Jail for public intoxication while wearing nothing more than a tuxedo g-string and handcuffs.
I started drinking at 2:00pm that day in honor of UCSB’s big soccer game against Cal Poly later that evening. By the time I finished class around 6:00pm I was trashed and psyched for the game. My friends convinced me to streak during the second half. However the California State Penal Code for exposing one’s genitals in public requires that the person convicted register as a sex offender. In light of that, I decided not to streak in the traditional sense of 100% nakedness. So I dug through my closet and came upon a tuxedo g-string and cufflinks, a party boy Halloween costume I had worn previously. It was perfect: essentially nude without exposing any genitals.
To conceal my identity I painted a handlebar mustache and chop sideburns on my face. I also blacked out my eyes like a raccoon. Painted on my back were the words “FUCK POLY”. And, of course, no tuxedo is complete without a bowtie and cufflinks.
After stripping both the clothes from my body and the ball from Poly’s keeper, I scored a goal of my own- the only goal of the game, I might add. The roar of the crowd made me feel like a pro athlete again. To my surprise, another streaker simultaneously jumped on the field with me. He was wearing a pair Italian themed underwear with a printed penis on the front, as if he were purposely hiding his own genitals. We must have read the same penal code.
Anyway, by now I had my eyes on the planned escape route. But in the chaos of the moment, my intoxicated legs just sort of tripped over themselves. The next thing I knew my face was in the grass and some security guard was mounted on top of my backside. I remember him saying, “Got you good fucker! Got you”! LOL. Man, whoever you are, you didn’t get shit, okay? I fell down. Then you just sort of laid on top of me. And at least I’m not the one chasing a naked dude across a field in front of 10,000 people. By the way all you security guards are slow as shit.
I slid with such force that, when I fell down, the front part of my g-string had slipped down to about mid-thigh. I thought for sure when I got up that my junk would be flopping for all to see, which would have completely defeated the purpose of me trying to cover up in the first place. In that split second, I pictured myself walking door to door through IV having to explain to all my neighbors why I’m a sex offender. But luckily the back part of the g-string was still fit firmly around the top of my buns and waist. The elasticity of the string snapped the sac package back into position when I stood up, like a slingshot.
What I remember most about the arrest was how damn itchy my bod was: I was covered in grass from the fall, except I couldn’t do anything about it because I was cuffed. It was the most uncomfortable, hopeless feeling of my life. The cop wouldn’t itch my tummy when I asked him.
I had never been to jail before., but I think the combination of intoxication and exhilaration distracted me from any fearful expectations. Inmates gathered around the tiny windows of the holding cells and stared and laughed as I was being escorted through the complex in just my g-string and handlebar mustache with chops. Too bad their printer was broken. I coulnd’t receive a copy of my mug shot. All the guards called all their guard buddies to come check out “this crazy dude in a g-string”. They searched me, haha. They actually made me put my hands on the wall and spread ‘em. When I was ordered by one of the guards to remove my shoe laces I asked, “How come? So I can’t hang myself?” He chucked and looked towards my waist, referring to what I was wearing and said, “That should be the least of your worries at this point.” However he was nice enough to lend me an official county jail jumpsuit for the night.
I didn’t sleep a wink. The drunk tank sucks. It was like being crammed in a public restroom with fifteen of the most disgusting, dirty, grungy men anyone could imagine. The concrete floor was cold and wet. But the worst part of the whole night was the damn cotton mouth. Holy crap. I would have done anything for some Chap Stick and water.
I was released at 5:00am. They were kind enough to lend me some pants, a t-shirt, and an official pair of “county jail” boxers. But with no money and no phone I couldn’t call any of my friends to come pick me up. So I figured, “meh, I still have my running shoes on and IV can’t be any further than like three miles”, then I ditched the jeans in order to run faster. Picture a guy charging it down the 217 at 5:30am in white boxers that have “county jail” printed on the side, haha. It ended up being about a six mile run home, but a nice one. The sun was coming up and I was getting my day’s workout in. It was a fitting end to a night of the unexpected.
Current property of: http://www.dailynexus.com/
Response to shit-meister
p.s. When I found out the news I rushed to Burke's house and charged him. Nick knows the look in my eyes when I will kill, and obviously I had it. I proceeded to shove him to the ground and he fell like a sack of bricks. Good thing Mustain was there or else I would be serving 50 to life. Burke you are a disgrace of a human being.
The Jager-Shit-Meister
Amidst the heavy stress that I am currently facing, I am putting all of my academic worries on hold to present our lucky viewers with a rare diamond in the rough...
You must be forewarned: For what I am about to present to you is very graphic in nature, and is NOT for the weak of stomach and heart.
Let me take you back to a simpler time...
The year is 2007, I'm pretty sure this took place over spring break?..or was it summer?. Anyway, that is all irrelevant.
A few of our Extra Horny Gentlemen had decided to take advantage of the gorgeous Southern California weather and take a short vacation trip to Palm Springs for a few days. For whatever reason, I chose not to attend this trip. (actually, I just wasn't invited) A few days pass by and my friends return to Huntington Beach, from a seemingly incredible vacation. You know: Lots of drinking, drug abusing, womanizing, tanning, gambling etc etc. So I'm sitting on my computer chatting online with one of my friends whom was on the trip. (he has requested to remain anonymous)
So anyway, I'm chatting with one of my friends online and he goes:
"yeah bro, I was so drunk that whole trip. I came home and found this fucking weird video on my phone. I don't know who recorded it, but I'm almost positive that it couldn't have been me. Here check it out..."
Please notice how the video ends rather abruptly.
So after viewing this incredibly graphic and cruel video, I began to freak out.
"There is no fucking way that Burke, would actually trick our beloved friend, Denny into drinking a cocktail containing the feces of another human being!"
It brings me great and utter regret to tell you all, that I was absolutely wrong.
Immediately after I had seen this grotesque footage, I demanded an answer from my anonymous friend.
"PLEASE TELL ME THAT THEY DID NOT MAKE DENNY DRINK THE POOP!"
He simply replied, "Dude, I was so drunk. I don't even remember."
That answer was simply not adequate, so I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed Denny's number.
Denny: "Russ What's up?"
Me: "Please tell me that you didn't end up drinking that poop"
Denny: "huh?"
Me: "The Cup with Jager and shit inside of it, PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN'T DRINK IT!"
(roughly 5 seconds of silence)
Denny: I AM GOING TO KILL NICK BURKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(click)
Never in my life, had I heard so much rage come from a human being, let alone through the telephone.
It was at that moment I began to think, "uh oh, Denny didn't even know that he drank a cocktail with human feces inside of it....oh shit, Burke is dead."
About 10 minutes later, I received a phone call from Burke.
"Dude, WHY DID YOU TELL DENNY!?!?"
It had turned out that Burke and his other accomplices vowed to keep it a secret from Denny after experiencing the guilt of watching one of their best friends willingly drink a cocktail made up of Jagermeister, Monster Energy Drink, and human excrement.
To make matters even worse: according to eyewitnesses, he even stated that his drink was "fucking great" and that it was "The greatest drink he'd ever had" (I'm sorry Denny.)
Let this be a reminder girls (and guys) across the world, since we are all now turning 21 and hitting up the local bars: Do Not Accept Drinks from Strangers. (or in this case, your best friends)
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Queefimous Fartimous
Fucking Fuck Fuck
I am supposed to be studying for my Social Psychology final on Tuesday.
I have not learned a damn thing, and I got a D on my midterm.
So there is a high level of urgency, especially considering that I have roughly 600 pages of reading to do in order to be all caught up.
But what am I doing instead?
I am browsing www.twitter.com and fueling my burning addiction to internet social networking websites, of which already consume roughly 85% of my life.
Right now, I am stalking Diddy on Twitter and loving every moment of it, rather than learning about the principles of attraction and intimacy in chapter 11 of my Social Psychology textbook.
For those of you unaware, I dropped a class during 8th week (a quarter is 10 weeks), and I am not currently passing my other 2 classes.
I Really, Really Hate Myself Right Now.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
2 Misdemeanors and 5 empty Jager bottles.
It is now official, I am a criminal. Just add it to my record, the first petty theft charge (which later turned into a burglary charge, police don't like me) wasn't that big of deal. Add two more misdemeanors to the mix and I am starting look more like Ted Bundy, well maybe not that severe, I haven't murdered anyone. But shit, the cops sure treat me like I have. I have had long conversations with my brother about this, and the fact is we are sleazeballs. We can't work normal jobs, we can't be fireman or policeman, we just have to do shisty things to make money. I'm thinking Frank and Jesse James, lets rob some banks or some shit. My brother on the hand is constantly referring to himself as Danny Ocean. Well shit, if he is Danny Ocean then I am Rusty Ryan (Brad Pitt, obviously I am the better looking one) and lets hit Vegas baby. Realistically, I am going to have to get a real job and pay off these tickets, and bum rides off my bro because my license is most likely going to get suspended for a year. I blame him fully, it is his Karma because I had to drive his ass around for a year, and now its his turn to chauffeur me around.
Breaking News!
Here at the League of Extra Horny Gentlemen, it has been brought to our attention that something has been lacking from this blog. Stories concerning sperm donation and gayness can only attract so much attention. This blog is supposed to be about manhood and living the modern gentleman lifestyle. We have neglected a major aspect of what it is all about to be a Gentleman. For this, we apologize. We have taken it upon ourselves to provide our lucky viewers at home with our latest signing, the 'Reformed Bad Boy' himself, Mr. Denny Reed!
Mr. Reed will be here to provide all of our lucky viewers with his thought-provoking and insightful sports commentary. chances are more than likely that Mr. Reed has forgotten more than you will ever learn concerning anything inside the world of sports. Mr. Reed specifically asked to come aboard just in time for March Madness!
For those of you unaware, Mr. Reed is going to be the next Dicky V. (and you can hold us to that)
So, before you embarrass yourself and submit your brackets, check here for the latest Bracketology and commentary!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The Top 5 Shittiest Everyday Activities to Perform With the Temporary Loss of Limb
Here are my top 5 shittiest aspects of having a broken wrist:
5) Spliffs are nearly impossible to roll.
4) Spliffs are nearly impossible to light.
3) I can only finger one chick at a time.
2) Washing myself.
1) I can only smoke one spliff at a time.
Jay's munchie'$ saving tip of the day:
my munchie'$ saving tip of the day: instead of buying the traditional Reese's that come with 2 half-dollar sized candies for 99 cents, dip ur hand into the jar by the cashier's desk and buy a shit load of the little bite sized Reese's for 10 cents a piece. seriously, u get like twice the bargain.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Nicholas Burke
Anyways, I thoroughly enjoy freaking out about everything. It makes things that much more exciting. I also thrive in the fact that when someone is referring to meeting me they either call me "that dirty white guy" or "that goofy-dirty white guy." Apparently my long flowing blonde hair, looks greasy and unkempt. What the fuck!? I shower everyday... well almost everyday... every other day. The beautiful scents of my own natural musk is covered up by the numerous amount of cigarettes I suck down. Not to mention my recently pointed out love handles (thanks Russ) and my beer gut. You'd think attracting women would be nearly impossible for a specimen such as myself... wrong. I really don't know why, but it seems the more dirtball you are the more ass you can get. I mean, personally I have straight up smelled like stinky-sweaty testicles and have gotten laid without complaints. (You know that if you can smell your own odor than you really fucking stink) It's funny. Sorry, I keep distracting myself with my own ADD. So, besides loving to freak out and being a complete dirtbag, I enjoy hanging out with my fellow Extra Horny Gentlemen (I really don't enjoy it, but for the blog's sake... I do) while drinking dangerously large amounts of alchohol and creating drama. So funny. I also really like smoking cigarettes. Someone once asked me what I had planned on doing for the day, I simply responded with "I'm gunna sit around and smoke some cigarettes." I'm that guy that will probably have sex with your girlfriend if given the opportunity. I'm done with this post.
Incognito
Tonight, My roommate Michael is hosting a large scale annual Fundraiser event for the Queer Alliance.
There is an estimated guest list of 100+ attending.
The only catch is that this event is being held at our apartment!!!
My roommate, Webb jokingly suggested that I attend the party and go undercover in attempt to gauge my approximate worth in the gay community.
So of course I thought to myself, "what a fucking great idea!"
My goal of the night is to get pursued by as many gay men as possible.
This may seem cruel, but this is only so that I can evaluate how badly I am desired and lusted for in the eyes of other horny gay males.
My success will be measured in terms of how many compliments I receive and the amount of phone numbers I obtain.
My Hypothesis: I expect to be a hit at this event. Also, I'm sure I will cause an uproar of arousal among the other guests. I will be shocked if I don't get hit on by at least 5 gay guys.
I will update later with my results.
Tragedy
Thank you for applying to the California Cryobank donor program.
We regret to inform you that your donor application has not been
accepted. There are a variety of reasons why an individual is not
accepted into our program, including external reasons beyond the scope
of your application, as well as capacity limitations. By policy of the
California Cryobank, we are unable to disclose to you the specific
reason(s) why your donor application was not accepted. We are
disappointed that we cannot accept your application at this time, but we
greatly appreciate your interest in our program.
We wish you the best of luck with your future endeavors.
Sincerely,
Ruth Diaz
Donor Coordinator
WHY GOD WHY!?!?!?
There is no Justice in this world!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
My Sober Weekend
My First Visit to the Cryobank.
As many of you may know, I pride myself on being a man of philosophy. One of my golden rules in life: "Never give up on your Dreams." In my specific case, my dreams include visions of myself riding jet-skis up and down the Italian coast dressed in a tuxedo and throwing lavish cocktail parties aboard my yacht, The USS Sexxxy. There is only one thing that separates me from my dreams; about a billion dollars.
That being the case, I have dedicated a large portion of my life in attempting to make big money by the quickest and most convenient means possible. Surprising as it may sound, my schemes have all resulted in utter failure (ie betting on the Oscars)...UNTIL NOW!
A few weeks back I emailed a provisional application to the California Cryobank, and was later pre-approved a few days later.
So this morning, I made my first visit to the Cryobank; and it was an experience that I shall not soon forget. For those of you unaware of what exactly the Cryobank is-- let me educate you. Perhaps you have seen those ads for the Cryobank on the sidebars of your Facebook homepage (yeah, the ones that you never pay attention to). To put it simply, Cryobank is just a fancy name for sperm bank. If an individual passes a brief preliminary interview and fits a certain mold of criteria, they are eligible to donate their sperm for $100 a pop. Some basic requirements include that donors be in good health, must have a college degree (or be enrolled in college), and have no family history of serious illness. Incase you haven't already figured it out, I could be rich within months if I landed this job as a certified Sperm Donor.
Today I had an appointment to fill out some paperwork and give my first sperm sample. The professionals at the Cryobank will use my first sperm sample and test it to see if my sperm is good enough to use.
As fate would have it, The Cryobank was conveniently located within walking distance from my apartment (0.6 miles to be exact). At about 10:30am I left my apartment in search of the Cryobank. As I was walking down Gayley Ave. I noticed a small alleyway where the Cryobank was supposed to be. I walked down the narrow alleyway and finally saw the door which read "Cryobank". The door was locked and next to the door was an intercom. I pressed the button on the intercom and a woman calmly responded, "California Cryobank, How may I help you?"
I nervously replied, "I'm here for an 11:00am appointment". She made me verify my name and age and then buzzed me into the facility.
I was shocked at how clean the place was. I made my way to the waiting room. A sexy looking asian receptionist was pulling out my files as I walked up to the front desk. Her sultry voice and luscious lips lightly spoke the words, "Are you Russell?" This was starting to get a little uncomfortable. Since when are receptionists supposed to be this sexy? For a moment, I thought I was on the set of a Porn movie. I smoothly replied, "why yes I am." She stared blankly at me for a brief moment and then gave me some paperwork to fill out. The waiting room was filled with all kinds of snacks and Men's Health magazines. I quickly made myself at home and lounged in the waiting room while I filled out my paperwork. I was forced to tell a few white lies on my application (for ex. the minimum height requirement is 5'9, I'm 5'8. Also, my family doesn't exactly have a clean sheet of medical conditions like I said they did, hehe). I could not afford to let a few minuscule medical details stand in the way of my riches!
So after a few minutes it was finally showtime.
The sexy Asian receptionist handed me a cup for my sample and offered me some "visual aids."
To my surprise, this place was very legitimate. They offered me some DVDs. As I looked through the DVD collection, I was somewhat appalled at the grotesquely raunchy collection of pornography in their collection. "how the fuck do they expect me to wank off to this shit!?"
I finally found something that I could work with, College Invasion II (hehehe)
I was then escorted to the rooms. By the looks of it, I think each room had a different theme. I walked into the room and the first thing i noticed was that the walls had been covered with pictures of elegant naked ladies from the 60s and 70s. The room was extremely small. There was a sink, an absurd amount of paper towels, a small plasma TV, and some wrinkled up porn magazines with many pages suspiciously stuck together. I sat down and about 30 seconds later, I realized it was time for the Money Shot (get it?). "uh oh, how the fuck am I going to aim my jizz into this fucking tiny little cup!?" I successfully managed to get an embarrassingly mediocre sized load into the cup, but I quickly realized that I had made a large mess around the outside of the cup. I spent about 10 seconds laughing, and then another 30 seconds cleaning up my mess.
As I walked back to the receptionist with sperm in hand, the sight that lay before me was one that I will never forget. Some fucking tall scrawny goofball was flirting with the receptionist while juggling his cup of jizz in one hand ever so casually. "what the fuck is wrong with these people..?" I quietly thought to myself. I turned in my sample and the receptionist questioned whether or not I had obeyed the No-ejaculation-for-3-days rule. I reassured her that I had, and she proceeded to reexamine my sperm sample. I awkwardly stood there trying to not make eye contact with the tall creep tossing around his sperm, and the sexy asian woman belittling me and my excrement. "Alright, well we will contact you in 5-7 days to see if your sperm qualifies for donation." I quickly said "thank you" and got the fuck out of there as fast as I could.
I'm praying that my sperm sample is blessed, so that I can be one step closer to joy riding those jet-skis.
Now I play the waiting game...
Bloody Term Paper
Anyway, given the intensity of the moment, I didn't realize how much my palms and knuckles were bleeding. huhuhuhu, huhuh. My cover page was covered in blood, lol. "Fuck!" I didn't have time to go home and print out another one; late papers were not accepted. I was forced to rip off the cover page, it was just too gnarly. But there was still a little blood on the introduction as well as the first body paragraph. I reluctantly turned it in, hoping it was obvious to my TA that I had put my blood, sweat and tears into this one.
For my introductory bio as a member of the League of Extra Horny Gentlemen: I'm just a humble 3rd-year college student that's eager to start his carreer, living amongst the other "four-year tourists" here at the beautiful UC Santa Barbara. All I need are some huge waves, catholic sheilas, and some beetz on my burger.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Mustache March
Over the last few years, this phenomena has taken over College campuses across America by storm. My first memories of Mustache March were during the 2006 NCAA Basketball Tournament. I give one man most (if not all) of the credit for making 'Mustache March' what it is today.
Fellow Extra Horny Gentleman, Adam Morrison (pictured on the left) is an individual whose accomplishments have gone unnoticed after his humiliating antics during the 2006 NCAA Basketball Tournament (Breaking down into tears after a brutal defeat by UCLA).
Mr. Morrison does not get the recognition he deserves for pioneering one of the greatest college movements in all of history.
In Commemoration of Mustache March, I have posted a montage from one of our very own members. Mr. Jaypee Hayes.
Jake
P.S. Today is the first official day of Mustache March.
Ru$$
My name is Russell and I am currently residing in Los Angeles, California.
I'm 20 years young and still riding my father's coattails while I attend college here at UCLA. I am a man of simple taste, I also enjoy the finer things in life. Some of my many interests include: Samba Dancing, French (the language of love), FIFA, Looking Fly, Pumping Iron, LOST, Chipotle, UCLA Basketball, Smoothies, Wealth, Luxury & Women. Some would say I am a little "old fashioned." I still believe in chivalry and being a gentleman. I will always pull the chair out and open the doors for my ladies. In my travels, I have come across many things peculiar, spine-tingling, freaky, outrageous, and just outright funny. I am excited for our fans to embark on this journey.
Au Revoir
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Tommy
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Meet The Masters:
Let me start off by saying- If you came here looking for gay porn, You've come to the wrong place.
The League of Extra Horny Gentlemen is a place where our entourage of playboys and scholars will document their opinions and philosophies, as well as some of our very own media. We have decided to give "average joe's" such as yourself an exclusive sneak preview into our world via cyberspace.
So count your blessings and Enjoy this blog.
Without any further adieu, Let us introduce you to the gang...
Name: Russell
Age: 20
Location: Los Angeles, CA
Name: Nick
Age: 21
Location: Huntington Beach, CA
Name: Jay
Age: 21
Location: Santa Barbara, CA
Name: Tommy
Age: 21
Location: Long Beach, CA
Name: Jake
Age: 18
Location: Huntington Beach, CA
Name: Victor
Age: 21
Location: Madrid, Spain