TEAM TENDERLOIN!

Fun With Site Tracking

2006-06-29T14:24:00.000-07:00

So I was just checking out my site trackers a bit and you know what I found?

Apparently the number one phrase that is oft googled to find this or my own personal blog is:

Ronald Almgren Gay

That is all.

--M

Face Punchers Are Not Cool

2006-06-15T15:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, that's totally untrue. Many of our finest Tenderloinites are also Face Punchers, but that doesn't mean they can just stroll in late in the game and try and take over our carefully honed genre of comedic gang blogging, OH NO! NO IT DOES NOT!

My Point? My point is, we need to get back to our roots.

With Keene so close to joining the blog, and Brodeur being an "official" full member (no pun intended) now, it's time for a gang event.

What I'm saying is that tomorrow night, we are all gonna get so rockassingly drunk. Together. All y'all feel me?

Troop rallying will start as soon as Samantha "Banana Meister" Oldfield gets here from the West Coast Fake Rockstars Massive (one of our sister gangs...) up there in ol' Seattle.

Be advised.
[ROCKASSINGLY DRUNK]
--M

Left On My Voicemail

2006-05-31T12:09:00.000-07:00

So a guitarist walks into a bar, sits down and orders a beer.
"Hey, how's it goin' tonight?" the bartender asks.
"Good I guess," the guitarist replies, "but I'm kinda lonely. I just broke up with my girlfriend."
The gutarist looks around the bar, and in the corner is a kinda hot girl, and she's pretty drunk and has lots of tattoos. He starts to feel a little cocky.
"Hey bartender!" the gutarist says, "I'll bet you $100 I can bone that girl by tomorrow morning."
"WHAT!" the bartender replies, "I'm not taking that bet, that's Miranda."

--M

It's so like my life!

2006-05-30T23:24:00.000-07:00

So, 'Paper Doll' has served TT well in the past two years. However, Louis XIV was over faster than Tara Reid's sex appeal. As we all know, musical influence is as fluid as a basil gimlet, and so i propose that the time has come for Extreme Theme Song 2006 (as I will be referring to it). Please submit suggestions directly to yours truly sometime this week. Stat. My personal pic? 'My Alcoholic Friends' by the Dresden Dolls. Sure, they totally sold out and Amanda has a major chip on my shoulder. But once she grabbed my penis, and she got me into Coachella for free, and I made out with one of her roadies on her tour bus in San Jose. The problem is that she sounds like she's got more than a dash of the Downs in the first three verses, but it's as if the end of the song was written just for us Team Tenderloinites. Seriously, observe:

I'm trying hard
not to be ashamed
not to know the name
of who is waking up beside me
or the date, the season or the city
but at least the ceiling's very pretty
and if you are holding it against me

I'll be on my best behavior
taking shots for mother nature
once my fist is in the cupboard
love is never falling over

should I choose a noble occupation
if I did I'd only show up late and
sick and then they'd stare at me with hatred
plus my only natural talent's wasted
on my alcoholic friends
my alcoholic friends
the party never ends
my alcoholic friends.

Right? Plus there's this sweet little tinkly piano in the background. Plus Brian the drummer is way hot and has a huge cock. Trust.

Still open to suggestions, though.

xoxo
QC

Drunk Models!

2006-05-23T18:30:00.000-07:00

Back From New York

2006-05-20T01:51:00.000-07:00

I'm back! Ok, so I've been back for almost a week but it still feels like just yesterday. Ok, not really. It feels like I was never gone! Who do I blame? Freakin' work! Work is eating me alive! Not that it's a hard job...I tell guests that I've sold their room to someone else, deal with complaints from the bar because the bar manager doesn't know how to deal, and I get to hang out in the lobby and check out the half naked chicks that walk into the bar...even though I'm really waiting for half naked guys to walk by...not going to happen. But back to New York. Some of the highlights? Sneaking Highlife Miller Lights into White Castle at 5am, drinking $14 Belvedeere martinis all night that someone else paid for, being really drunk off those Belvedeere martinis and ending up in a diner having cheese sticks, potatoe skins, fries, and a tuna melt at 6am one morning, having a guy give you one of his tickets to a Yankees game (seats right behind home plate!) so you can meet up with him the next day, going to a bar called Jimmy's and having "Jimmy" buy you drinks all night, and hanging out with a guy that has a fear of horses. I'm not kidding. It's called equinophobia, hippophobia, or just fear of horses. At first I thought he was acting retarded. He wasn't. Once a horse and carriage passed by, he would panic and look for a place to hide. His body would cringe and slowly take the fetal position. He seriously would just freak out. I found this to be very amusing. Oh yeah, it gets better. He's allergic to hot dogs...

A Few Words from Boy Wonder

2006-05-18T11:29:00.000-07:00

Being Boy Wonder people can’t help but “wonder” what the 5’ 9” and cuteness is all made of.

The question is, did these extremely desirable, and yet steal like characteristics come natural, or was there an early build up of my super hero abilities that had to be gained through daily practice of wonderness??? It seems like I always receive mind-boggling questions like…Did I eat wonder bread when I was younger? Was I, by chance, involved in the movie Wonder Boys? Do I have any weakness to kryptonite, and do I wonder on continues cycle of wondering…right never mind that last one. Anyway in answer to those questions, no, no, no otherwise I would be superman, and forget the last one.

The thing is, there is probably not an answer to this phenomenon of miracles and if you try to break down the complex web of wonderness you will only get confused and probably hurt. Trust me I know.

Anyway I hope that everyone has learned a lot today. This is not an easy topic, and I think you should know, that quite possibly it may not even be a topic at all, which makes it extremely delicate of a situation…right…anyway I must go and partake in some tasty espresso, but don’t forget what you’ve learned here today, because who knows you may wake up and be the next Wonder Boy…HA…gotcha!! You could be the next Wonder Boy but you’ll never be BOY WONDER so don’t even think about waking up and being Boy Wonder, that’s right bitch!!

I'm Soooo Fucking Pretty

2006-05-17T22:57:00.000-07:00

I am so pretty that it boggles the mind. I'm not that smart, but when Hot Nick and I get in the same room, it warps space time.

I am Boy Wonder, hear me roar.

Or, if you're hot and on MySpace, message me and then come over to my house and have sex with me.

--Boy Wonder
p.s.--I like girls.

Throw a Dog a Bone

2006-05-16T15:00:00.000-07:00

Just so we're all clear:

Bone Fest--Alot of continuous boning or boning more than one person at the same time.

Bone Queen--A chick who bones alot.

Bone Heaven--When one experiences alot of boning for a period of time.

Boy Wonder and I just want you to know how fresh boning is. The Urban Dictionary has already been notified.

Also, if you are like Boy Wonder and You're absolutely gonna die if I'm not your MySpace friend, I'm actually currently accepting applications. FINE BW, I hope you're happy.
--M

Hilarity Ensues

2006-05-13T16:05:00.000-07:00

Just thought everyone might want to see some additional pics from Counts' birthday. Enjoy. For more, got to Moto's Flickr Account.
--M

QC, Kitti, Bud, Ray and Milkshake

Jay-Jay's hot rack

Milkshake getting her lesbo-jungle-fever on

Mindie and Sandra

Counts as Alex Delarge

Flo-Ho

2006-05-11T20:06:00.000-07:00

My all-time favorite SoBe Filly is in town from Sarasota, Lauren Morlock. She is super hot, likes guys that are five nine and cute, and is totally awesome. Totally awesome. So far plans are to hit The Thieves before traipsing off to Tunnel Top tonight. Anyone? Anyone???
--M

[p.s.--Brodeur's phone is off, if anyone (everyone) has noticed, and it's starting to piss me off 'cause I don't have anyone to locally drunken dial as of late. Oh, and Ron, I'll see you soon.]

Team Tenderloin Invitational

2006-05-09T20:45:00.000-07:00

We need to have a motherfucking get together up in this place. I'm talking a gang conference, where I can meet all my fellow murderers, pimps, queens and criminal queers. A Team Tenderloin conference.

Plus, we need a team yearbook photo.

Listen up, PANT

2006-05-08T21:59:00.000-07:00

Two Days Late, But Just As Wasted

2006-05-08T18:25:00.000-07:00

Here are a couple pics from Los's Cinco de Mayo party yesterday. Excelente.

Some highlights:
*A-K and Taylor singing fake mariachi songs about such important topics as "ciggaretto's".
*Los pretending to play the guitar and gaining the nickname "Glow Worm".
*The Milli Vanilli sing along.
*Brodeur talking about "dry humping" as much as it was humanly possible for him to do so.
*Hot Nick doing nothing in particular, but was nonetheless hilarious.
*Raya, Jessica and I's new favorite line: "It's the bomb...DOT COM!"

--M

"Those bitches are on fire!"

2006-05-07T15:18:00.000-07:00

Erica and Milkshake Go To the End-Up After Last Call and They Are Wasted
by: Milkshake Moure

act 1-Outside Tunnel Top
Erica: "Omigod! Let's go to the End-Up!"
Milkshake: "Of all of the things we are gonna do right now, going to the End-Up is not one of them."

act 2-At the End-Up
E: "Omigod this place is crazy! Look at all these freakin' tired-ass men! Look at all the heffers! This is freakin' great!"
M: "Actually yeah. I'll have to concurr, this is freakin' awesome. Like...dude, check this out. HEY! HEY YOU RIGHT THERE!"
Abercrombie Nick: "Me? Hey. Sup. I'm Nick."
M: "Yeah, whatever. Go get me a Red Bull.
AN: [sarcastically] "Just one?"
M: *makes out with Abercrombie Nick and grabs his package* "Well, you gotta get one for Erica too."
AN: "K. What's your name?"
M: "Dude. Red Bull. Now.
E: "Who's this guy?"
M: "Dude, just some guy who's getting us some Red-Bull."
E: "Tight. HEY! HEY YOU! ARE YOU GAY?"

act 3-Still At the End-Up
E: "Omigod, Miranda! This is my gay boyfriend! He's so FREAKIN' beautiful!"
Gay Boyfriend: "Hey, Miranda, yeah?"
M: "Yup. Hey, this is the hot indie boy I've been making out with."
E: "What's his name?"
M: "I don't know."
Hot Indie Boy: "Hey, I'm Eric."
M: "Whatever. Let's make out."
HIB: "Cool."
M: *gets a tap on her shoulder while making out with Hot Indie Boy*
AN: "Uh...hey. I got your Red Bull" *holds out a Red Bull to Milkshake*
HIB: "Who's this guy?"
AN: "Who's this guy?"
M: "I think you're both forgetting the really important thing here...ONE? You only got ONE? Where's Erica's?" *Milkshake takes the Red Bull and makes out with Hot Indie Boy again*
E: "Oh my god, you forgot my Red Bull? HEY! GAY BOYFRIEND! Go get me a Red Bull!"
M: "Hey, Indie Boy, You're cute and all, but see that guy over there?"
HIB: "That Nick guy?"
M: "No, THAT Guy." *Milkshake points at hot guy*
HIB: "Yeah."
M: "Yeah, he's hotter. Thanks though."
HIB: "Well, who's your friend?"
E: "WHERE'S MY GAY BOYFRIEND!"
[fin]

--M

What's wrong with this picture?

2006-05-06T04:40:00.000-07:00

So I missed the whole crazy Cinco de Mayo thing tonight. It's 4:30am. I can't sleep. What else is there for a girl to do? Nothing...nothing but blog. This whole past week has been a blur. Milkshake and I had one night where all we did was drink beer with Pant and see the sun come out from a fire escape that made you feel like you were in a Costa Rican jungle. Being the nice people that we are, we decide to drop off some Tab Energy to Counts and Chris who had to be at work at seven in the morning. It's around 8:30am or so and we walk by the hotel only to run into Counts...on his way to work. Then we see Chris...on his way to work. These two cats were both late! They went home early but were still late! All the while Milkshake, Pant, and I are up! Up and awake! No sleep! No drugs! Just up! I finally got to bed at 10am...just a little past my bedtime.
Now, I don't know how many of you know the significance of me being Boo. I'm only Boo to my Boo. My Boo being QC. QC and I have always been each other's Boo. The conflict is that my Team Tenderloin name needs to be changed. I know this is hard for some because you've become accustomed to me being Boo but this needs to end. I need a new pen name. Let's make it a contest. Whomever comes up with the best name for me wins a prize. The prize remains a mystery (it all really depends on who wins). No, really...I need a new name. Soon.

I Am a Crafty Milkshake

2006-05-04T16:40:00.000-07:00

In the mean time while Pant searches his immense illustrating brain for the awesomest logo for our gang ever, I've gotten a little crafty myself. So who wants t-shirts? You do? Sweet. You got it.
Expect them done by tomorrow, but hoodies are on you.
--M

Blowchella

2006-05-03T16:37:00.000-07:00

I have not had a weekend this fierce in months. I saw Daft Punk and almost jizzed my pants. I danced a lot. I got caught by my ex making out with some boy during 'Filthy Gorgeous'. I drank way too much illicit tequila which was smuggled in via empty suntan lotion bottles. I met the best subway sandwich artist ever. I ate Tikka Masala with Imogen Heap (seriously). I pretended I was going to puke so I could use the first aid bathroom to do coke instead of risking missing any of the Scissor Sisters. I witnessed exactly four minutes of the freak show that is Madonna. I forgot two pillows, a morter and pestle, and my phone charger. I kept thinking about how good Daft Punk was all weekend long. I drooled over lots and lots and lots of boys; shirtless fags on Sunday and Ladytron scenesters on Saturday. I (naturally) got VIP'ed. I accidentally stepped on someone's face during Massive Attack. I expertly dodged any semblance of hangover. I totally cried when TV on the Radio played 'Ambulance'. I am totally not ashamed of that fact. I found the secret air-conditioned bathrooms with working sinks for dropping deuces. I partied at Amber until 4am the night we returned. I need a week off.

I'm back.

xoxo
QC

Off you go, Moto.

2006-05-03T16:11:00.000-07:00

top: Andrew and Milkshake @ Whiskey Thieves
bottom: Bud, Pant, Milkshake and Moto @ Whiskey Thieves.
up for anything: Milkshake

As per usual, Team Tenderloin found themselves at Whiskey Thieves to begin Moto's last night out in San Francisco. Thanks to Counts' wealthy parents and his recent birthday, we were able to snap these photos with his brand new digital camera. Sweet. Unlike my phone, it has a flash.
We then somehow made it to both Edinburgh and Bigfoot Lodge before 2:00--there is something about the crazed will of a bunch of twenty somethings that makes our drunken treks across the 'Loin somehow alter space-time so that we are able to make last call. Sweet.

Oh, and if you want to hear QC screech uncontrollably for fifteen minutes straight so that only dogs can hear, just say the magic words: "Daft Punk".
--M

[p.s.--Everyone welcome Bud to the blog. That being said, the word of the week is "disco".]

2006-05-03T03:13:00.000-07:00

"Oh, that's why they call you Milkshake."

2006-05-01T16:12:00.000-07:00

Happy Monday Kittens.

This was brought to my attention last Saturday night, as late night Dancehall at Tunnel Top turned my hips and ass into some sort of uber-hot egg beater. So why am I called Milkshake? I thought we went over this, but just as a recap:

1. I bring all the boys to the yard.
2. People love to feel me sweat.

On a side note, Boo and I would like to apologize to anyone who recieved a voicemail/text message after 2:00am on Saturday. Sorry. We were on fire. Although, if you haven't erased them yet, I'd love to hear 'cause I'm sure they're hilarious.
Tomorrow is Moto's last night in town, and QC will be back from SoCo.
Rally up.
--M

[a brief Tuesday edit: Everyone welcome Locks to the gang and soon to the blog. I'm sure you've noticed by now that our site looks a bit different--well, that's 'cause I freakin changed it. I was all like: "Dude, new domain, new layout. Right?" Right. I would also, in the face of recent events, like to point out that Milkshake not only brings the boys to the yard, but is also fully capable of bringing them back to the yard. That's so fresh. Oh, and Boy Wonder and Boo need to get off thier princess asses and contribute. --M]

Holy Effing Ess.

2006-04-29T15:22:00.000-07:00

You know, I thought it wouldn't be possible to beat my last birthday which I spent with my best friends on a dance floor on a beach in Playa Del Carmen, having a cute Mexican girl pour shots down my throat after watching a fire dancing performance. But this year just might have done it. For anyone who doesn't know, me and about twenty-five friends rushed the High Tide and Whiskey Theives, and in true Team Tenderloin style, GOT WASTED!

As you all know from Miranda's re-cap, we had a great fucking time. All the next day, all I could say was , "woah," or, "shit" or any other explative that might have aptly described the incredible rockassness of the night before. I'm not kidding, that's all I could do; well, that is, after changing out of the bottom half of my Clockwork Orange costume and a tee shirt that has written on it in a sharpie, "I'm Batman." (Talk about a walk of shame.) My stomach still reads "Robin" with an arrow pointing down. (See picture Below)

So anyway, thanks to all who came out. Let's do it again soon.

Oh yeah, did everyone see how hot Raya looked? She sang me "Happy Birthday Mr. President!" Rockass!

Later, --Counts

[A brief edit by Milkshake who is abusing her admin priveleges but didn't want to make a whole post about it: Muggle Marc, also from Four Ninja Food Groups is in town from Los Angeles this weekend. It is then official--half of our sister gang from South Carolina is in town. Brodeur, make sure your pirate ass stays calm, or these Ninja badasses are gonna beat the crap out of you.
Also, Locks has a buddy in from Denver.
Point being--Tunnel Top @ 10:00pm tonight! Oh, and I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that I hope QC is having fun at Coachella; we expect a full report upon his return! Oh, and lastly, everyone welcome Boo to the blog. --M]

Masters of Our Domain

2006-04-28T18:08:00.001-07:00

Oh, what a week it's been.

But the gang seems to be kicking it into high gear lately, no? Well, all of this partying has finally paid off, bitches.
As a thank you, Moto Mike of Four Ninja Food Groups has gotten our lovely little gang a lovely little gift for all of our high-voltage hospitality.
From now on, when relating to your friends, family and groupies where you can find us, tell them TeamTenderloin.com. It's true guys, were masters of our domain. Thank Moto when you get a chance.
On a side note, Counts would like to thank everybody for a killer birthday. He'll be posting his take on events soon, as well as some killer pics, which you can also thank Moto for.
I hope you guys are happy--every single muscle in my body hurts. Every single one. Being awesome is so much work.
--M

That Was So Fresh

2006-04-27T15:53:00.000-07:00

Oh my God. I don't even really know where to start, but I have to say something to go with all these pictures.
I know, I know--you guys are all like: "Omigod Milkshake! What the fuck happened last night?" Except that I'm all like, "Uhh...dude. I don't evenknow." That's fresh. Oh, right--so last night was Counts' birthday. Rockass times were had by all. QC called me this morning (read: afternoon) and was all: "Omigod I made out with so many people last night! I feel like Marily!"
But in truth, don't we all feel like Marily? I mean, I made out with at least five people last night, and have seen pictures of me making out with more than that. Apparently, they are un-retouched.
You know, whenever a night starts out with you and twenty of your friends and gang members packing the High Tide, you should assume that something will happen akin to what happened to me this morning--rolling over, saying goodmorning to the boy in my bed, realizing that QC is gone, my phone is ringing, and my entire apartment is covered in scattered pieces of old halloween costumes, beer, and used profilactics. Rockass.
As per usual, Boy Wonder was sleeping the whole time. He totally should have come--he could have totally had the ever illusive menage a trois he's always getting drunk and demanding I set up for him. Let's just say my girlfriends, like everyone else in attendance, were totally wasted. And he is, after all, 5'9" and cute.
Seriously--most of what I remember from last night is tongues flying everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Oh, and very, very loud music. And AC/DC at Whiskey Thieves.
And just for the record, Brodeur's a great kisser. And so is QC. And Moto. And, well, A-K for that matter. And Boo. And Mindy. And probably, Marily.
--M
[p.s.--everyone take a moment out of your day to welcome Brodeur to the gang. And the blog. And apparently, I also welcome his tongue in my mouth.--M]

You're sexy! You're sick!

2006-04-26T17:41:00.000-07:00

Hi blog.

"Man, you look really great today..." I said, exploring the first slimy tentacles of a new fetish, "Did you do something with your hair?"

"No... I'm just really hung over. I vomited three times this morning after my abortion." She flipped her bangs and rubbed some more 3$ Walgreens foundation onto her cheeks, which to me looked pretty good; I bet she tastes like strawberries.

Lately I've been noticing a strong streak of asexual tendencies in my day-to-day activities, and the increase seems to be inversely proportionate to the number of days since I've gotten laid. This gradual decline in erotic interest has made most of the usual benefits of talking to the opposite sex void. However, I've run into a few people recently who I've not seen for a while and thought, damn sam, gina's looking good today with those gold bangles and that tartan headband, which has been encouraging. With a little help from my shrink, the lovely and godly Dr. Scary Larry (and his children, who can be catalogued by number and measured in miligrams), I might just pull through. What's been happening has just been a little disturbing, that's all. Every time I compliment a girl there seems to be some horrible circumstance that precludes our meeting. Or it's a bad hair day, or their dad just died (whom they loved very much and really, they're very late for the candle-lighting ceremony at his neighborhood bar, Esta Noche), or they suffered a minor contusion after a 4-night-400-bump binge... Every time I think a girl is hot, she is invariably not, both by her own desperate admission and my spurious but utterly convincing detective work.

"Jessie! Wow, look at you!"

"I know, I'm a wreck."

"Huh?"

"My prescription ran out, so I'm treating them with Preparation H."

"Them what?"

"My sores..." And when she said it, I noticed a series of open lesions around her mouth, giving the illusion of the wide, full lips of Je petite Courtney Love (which is French, of course, for cock-slopped-lips).

Maybe I'm just attracted to women having a bad day. Whatever it is, I'll soon discover the link between my current status and why I've only been interested in histrionic hypochondriacs.

5'9" and WAY CUTE.

2006-04-26T16:23:00.000-07:00

I'd just like to welcome Boy Wonder to the blog! Just to give y'all a little background, He's rediculously pretty, very cute, awesome, and he's 5'9". And cute. Trust. Oh, and apparently he always has his shirt off.
Boy Wonder, we're all patiently awaiting your first post.

It better be good.

Also, it's Counts' BIRTHDAY! Yes! Oh dear lord, were gonna paint the 'Loin red tonight!
And also drink beer!

And remember, meet at my place [Post @ Hyde] 'round 9 or so, we'll go from there as soon as Counts and The Queer Comandeer are off work.

Also, there is a very special surprise coming soon to Team Tenderloin...stay tuned, and stay cute.
--M
[Oh, p.s.--if you happen to see me today, don't be alarmed by the shit eating grin I'll most likely be sporting until sometime tomorrow morning. He-he. Hehehehehe. Also, for the love of God, try and use the word "fresh" as much as possible. And of course "rockass". And...Oh dude, I just totally lost my train of...he-he. Hehehehehehehe! HAHAHAHAHA! I'm so awesome.]

The Count

2006-04-25T16:30:00.000-07:00

Dude, Counts' birthday is tomorrow. TIGHT. Pub crawl anyone? Superhero pub crawl?

Good. I'll TM everyone as a reminder, but meet at my place between 9-10, k? K.

Oh, and just one thing--Doesn't that look like someone that should be in our gang? I mean, goddamnit.
Wait a second, I started this gang--shouldn't this be up to Counts, Big D and Myself?

Man, this is never gonna work.
--M

Oh How the 'Loin Shines and Echoes With the Laughter of the Beautiful Ones!

2006-04-22T16:38:00.000-07:00

Bud and Jay-Jay @ Tunnel Top

Moto Mike from Four Ninja Food Groups was in town, so Team Tenderloin kicked it old school and cruised down to the Tunnel Top and off to Rye for last call.

Some notes on Thursday night:

1. Boy Wonder is definitely 5'9" and cute. And no, I'm not going to do anything about it.
2. I am so down with OPP.
3. Moto is so awesome.
4. Jay-Jay knows what's up, when it's almost two, you better jet to the store.
5. I do not know what's up--when you're running to the store, never EVER trip on your own pant leg and run your knee cap into the pavement.

I got a HOT new accessory to go with my jean skirt--AN ACE BANDAGE. A black one, tee-hee.
--M

Irony can be a cruel, rancorous bitch goddess

2006-04-21T21:09:00.000-07:00

There is nothing more pretentious or obnoxious then when life tries to rub some breezy, purportedly ironic fucking slice of life in your face. Seriously, nothing makes me want to throw a bag of kittens into the bay more than falling into any situation which can be labeled as one which "You'll totally laugh about in a year". I won't laugh at it in a year. Trust. In a year, I'll have forgotten all about it. That is, until some douchebag feels the need to ask if I remember that time I "totally wrote that guy a drunken text message at 5am telling him I wanted to 'pound his ass like a kettle drum' and then totally forgot about it the next morning, missing the inevitable Tchaiskovsky reference he dropped the next time I ran into him. I'm still not laughing. Our mutual friends, as could be expected, still are.

Okay, so maybe I'm blowing this current situation a bit out of proportion. It's really more of an annoying tickle than a true slap across the face. You see, it's threefold:

One - For the first time in months, Gay Sex Thursday was cancelled. Unsuccesful. A miss. I did end up staying out till 7am, and I made out a bit, but the real fruits of my labours which I had grown so used to devouring (like clockwork!) stayed on the vine this week. Rats.

Two - There are fifty male models staying in our hotel tonight, for one night. Fifty. Male. Models. Most are too tall/jacked/overly groomed/completely retarded/ugly for my tastes, but there's fifty of them. At least twelve so far have made me have to think about baseball. Like this one with the glasses... (On the upside, Zoolander jokes never really get old)

Three - This is the clincher. Lets spell this out logically:
The male models are only in town for one night.
The male models all want to go out and party.
Partying leads to lowered inhibitions (read, blowjob cravings)
The male models are not familiar with San Francisco, and don't know where to party.
I am a concierge at the hotel housing the male models.

Yeah, doesn't take a genius. Lure them all to Tunnel Top and take my pick. Done and done. Too bad I'm roped into hitting a strip club for my friend's birthday. Instead of the sweet smell of boy, I can enjoy the aroma of tuna and cheap beer. I do kind of have a penchant for titties, though.

And who knows; maybe in a year I'll look back on this and laugh.

Happy Four Twenty!

2006-04-20T16:17:00.000-07:00

Its Thursday. I have a job, school, and a ton of shit to do. Now, you know I don't smoke pot, you know this, . . but today I'm gonna get me high. April twentieth every year, I make an exception to me not really smoking and it's no different this year. For someone who used to be nicknamed Stoner Pete, 4/20 is as important a day as Halloween or New Years.
Today also marks another important moment in my life. Mlikshake and I met 10 years ago today at a rock concert that I barely remember going to and don't remember leaving.
So anyway, the party will commence tonight at Tunnel Top with half of Four Ninja Food Groups, including Moto Mike, in attendance along with the majority of TTL. There will be drinking, smoking and a rockass time to be had by all.
Later, --Counts

Boo and the Gang

2006-04-19T15:24:00.000-07:00

Hahahaha.
Okay, wait. Some notes on last night.

1. QC is the prettiest and coolest boy in the whole land, and when I say "I hate Angelo", I don't say that just because I'm contractually obligated to.
2. Boo and I need to get a life other than stressing over a bunch of stupid boys that don't matter. We will probably never actually do that.
3. I have never seen anything funnier than the look on Justin's face when Marily surgically removed her mouth from his for just enough time to push him over a counter and into a wall via her hand and his head. Seriously, what she was telling Jen was really important. I think it was "I need to stop making out!"
4. My new favorite pick-up line that I used last night: "Yeah, sorry. I was eyeing you across the bar all night but I was too lazy to do anything. Oh well. Should we get some beer?"
5. Guys, when you pick up some random chick at a bar, don't ever EVER say "I want to make love to you" unless you are singing a Led Zeppelin song. Seriously. Trust.

Also--We are not changing Boo's nickname until Aaron Brodeur is allowed into the gang without Boo or I sleeping with him. I mean, Jay-Jay can't do it--she's with Bud. Doesn't anyone else see how important this is that Brodeur be in the gang?
That being said, I left my Team Tenderloin hoodie at the "make love to you" guys house. Goddamnit. That means I have to call him and that he's aware of my gang affiliation. He actually heads another (rival?) Tenderloin gang called "bad assed downtown" something something...I forget.
Late.
--M

Okay, okay. Hold on!

2006-04-17T09:32:00.000-07:00

Okay, seriously--
Counts decided that he wanted a 415 number, and needs a new phone anyway. So I was like "cool, I'll take my old 305 number back, 'cause I'll at least be visiting home soon, if not moving back eventually." But then, I was like, Oh: Lets see if Peter's sim card goes in my phone without unlocking it! But then my dumb ass set both of our naked sim cards on top of my laptop.

I'm sorry, what was that?

Right. I set our sim cards on my laptop. I am sorry. I've already been beaten profusely, so don't think I haven't been punished. The worst part is, I've never even heard of that! But then Counts is all like: "Dude, you can't even put credit cards on a laptop." and then I was like, "whatever, post on the blog, bitch."

That's right bitches. [*Milkshake does knees-bent-Beavis-ass-slapping-dance*]

Anyway...I was thinking. Now don't frik out or anything! I was just wondering if the official rules on joining our gang should be changed, seeing as under the rules as they now stand, we can't admit Hot Nick (which is the coolest nickname ever), Marilee, Andrew, or (we kissed and made up) Aaron Brodeur. I mean, maybe between Claudia and I, we could take care of a couple of these but Nick? Dude. That is just kinda wrong.

I'm just saying.
I'll call everyone later as soon as phase #1 phone switching is completed.
--M

Seriously.

2006-04-16T20:49:00.000-07:00

Team Tenderloin needs to get their phones turned back on. This is bullshit. The goddamn Easter Bunny can rise from the dead, and I can't even get a hold of anyone.

Irritably Yours,
QC

Pink is the New Black Part 2: Martini, Noodle, Beer, Vengeance.

2006-04-15T16:09:00.000-07:00

Many of you may be wondering why Brodeur is going to die, so as promised here's why.

Aaron Brodeur Must Die
a play in four acts by: Milkshake Moure

Act 1: At the Hotel
scene: Milkshake is visiting The Queer Comandeer and Count's place of work, which just also happens to be where Big D used to work, and where Boo, A-K, and the illustrious Aaron Brodeur work currently. Oh, and some guy named Dave who I just met. We're standing by the concierge counter which QC is behind checking out the Team Tenderloin blog.

Milkshake: "Buds. Whattup."
Counts: "You gonna stay and have a drink at the Redwood Room?"
M: "FUCK NO. Look, I love you guys, but you're bar fucking sucks. I can smell the pretention wafting out of there, I mean Boy Wonder likes that bar for chrissakes."
QC: "Hahaha! 'Ass: the other vagina'. That's so rockass."
C: "What the hell?"
QC: "Sorry. Oh! Yeah! Milkshake, you should totally stay and have a drink. It'll be free."
M: "Hmmm...that is tempting. K. I'm down."

QC goes off to doctor up a drink ticket while a dapper young security agent saunters over to say whattup to Counts.

Dave: "Counts. Sup. How's your night goin'?"
C: "Ahhh...you know. Same shit, different bitch. Hey bud, you ever met Milkshake?"
D: "No. Hey, I'm Dave."
M: "Milkshake. A pleasure, I'm sure."
D: "Did you just say Milkshake?"
M: "Did I just stutter?"

Just then, another security agent rushes past the counter, but slows just enough to briefly say hi.

Aaron Brodeur: "Milkshake! Where you been?"
M: "Hey Brodeur! Omigod! Let's hang soon, k?"
D: "Did you used to work here or something?"
M: "No."
D: "Oh, uh...okay. So you just like, know everybody here?"
M: "Yeah. Totally."
D: "Right, well in that case here's a flyer. Next Wednesday, at Pink. You should come."
M: "Pink? No way."
QC: "Don't worry, it's cool. Brodeur's throwing the party, and everyone's going. I'm dressing up. It's gonna be like us and Boo and Marilee and Angela and Taylor and Rhea and stuff and it's gonna be so awesome! Oh, and Hot Nick is gonna be there. Oh dear lord, what I wouldn't give for one night..."
M: "Seriously, QC. Get over Nick, it's just the hair."
QC: "I know, I know, but it's really cute hair. Oh, here's your drink ticket."
M: "This says my last name is Smith."
QC: "No, what it says is that you're gonna get some free whiskey."
[fin act 1]

Act 2: At Pink
scene: QC, Counts and Milkshake arrive after a quick prep session at QC's house around the corner. The music sucks, but all the homies are out in force, the beers aren't that expensive, Hot Nick is violently serving people on the dance floor and as it [fortunately] turns out, Angela is not pissed at Milkshake. After a couple rounds, Milkshake dips out for a smoke only to find Brodeur on the phone, and some drunk French guy trying to get in her pants.

Some Drunk Frenchie: "Excuse me...um...how you say? I can take a smoke from you?"
M: "Yeah. Fine dude. Need a light?"
SDF: "Haha! Yes. In my country, for to say 'light' it is 'cock', no? We always saying 'cock' all the time for to ask this."
M: "What the fuck?"
SDF: "Yes, it is humorous, no? We say 'cock' and then in America not so much say 'cock' all the time, no?"
M: "What are you on dude?"

Just then, Broudeur finishes his phone call, steps over to Milkshake, puts his arm around her and starts talking in a British accent.

AB: "There you are love! I 'bout thought you'd got'n 'way this time."
M: "Oh, honey, never. Are you kidding me? I would never, ever do that to you."
SDF: "This is...how you say; your boy, no?"
AB: "In't she beautiful? I love this woman. She's so amazing, just look at 'er."
SDF: "Yes, yes. I am from France."
M: "Oh, what an international group we are, aren't we honey? My husband Aaron here is from Manchester."
SDF: "Ah, yes! Manchester yes!"
AB: "Uhh...Oh. Yes love. My wife looks so beautiful tonight."
M: "Oh, baby! You're just saying that!"
AB: "Quite right, love. I am just saying--you see, my wife and I have an open relationship."

Frenchie starts to get increasingly excited as the pissed-offed-ness starts to rise into Milkshake's already rosy cheeks.

M: "An open relationship. Right. But uh...honey..."
AB: "Yes, we were just so young, you know? We have so much left to experience. Right love?"
M: Right. Um, Aaron, honey..."
AB: "I mean, I love this woman, but how could I deny 'er the pleasures of other men? Of the French, even."
SDF: "Yes! I am France!"
M: "Oh my..."
SDF: "I don't...why you look at funny when he say this, yes? You no happy."
M: "Oh, no. I'm very, very happy. I love him so fucking much it hurts. Hurts real bad. Right honey? Real bad.
A: "I love this woman. Look at 'er, she's amazing."
M: "Yes, that part's true."
A: "And she leaves the leg warmers on, if you know what I mean."
SDF: "Yes! Yes! I am France!"
[fin act 2]

Act 3: Milkshake alone in her apartment the next day.

scene: Milkshake is alone in her apartment the next day.

M: "I'm gonna get that Aaron Brodeur if it's the last thing I do. I'm gonna go all kindsa Japanese on his ass. I WANT MY GODDAMN $16.12! Oh, I mean, I'm gonna get that kid!
[fin act 3]

Act 4: At the Hotel Again

scene: Counts and Milkshake are standing at the concierge desk where QC is again checking out the Team Tenderloin blog instead of working. Brodeur saunters up in his gay looking suit and tie, and Milkshake immediately squints her eyes and grimaces when she sees him stop about ten feet away. Her hands are involuntarily clenching as QC starts to whistle the old-western-movie-dueling-song. Brodeur begins to squint back just as Counts chimes in with the all too fitting 'wah wah wah's'.

M: "Brodeur."
AB: "Milkshake."
M: "Oh, it's so on.
AB: "Oh, it's been on. You didn't even realize the on-ness."
M: "Oh, I realized."
AB: "Fine then. Let's just do this Japanese then."
M: "Whatever, I don't even know what that means."
AB: "You wouldn't."
M: "And you wouldn't know the pleasures of a woman."
AB: "Would too. You're hella dumb."
AB: "No, kiddo. I said woman.

Just then, a rabid penis-eating pony runs out of no where and bites off Brodeur's wiener. He cries out in pain as he crumples to the marble floor while Cletus the pony jumps into the giant armchair to happily munch what's left of Brodeur's dismembered Johnson.

AB: "Oh my God! You are a vengeful Milkshake!"
QC: "Hahaha! Whale tail! That is fucking hilarious. Wait, omigod, is Brodeur okay?"
C: "No. But Cletus is--check him out over there chewing on Brodeur's My Little Pony!"
QC: "Remind me to never piss Milkshake off ever again.
[fin act 4]

--M
[p.s.--mwuhahahahahaha!]

It's Already Brought

2006-04-14T18:28:00.000-07:00

from: Aaron Brodeur to: Milkshake Moure

Apr 13 (22 hours ago)
Your neck is mine biotch, from the moment we exchanged vows on Mt. Fuji. You said let's do it Japanese. You know what? Let's do it Japanese. [italics mine]

Bring it.

Oh. It's so fucking brought. I would be doing this in person right now if I wasn't so rockassingly hungover, but I just want to take this opportunity to invite all of you (especially Aaron) To my:

CHILI CON CARNIVAL!

There will be all kinds of extra special surprises!
And Aaron, I'll even give you one free pony ride.
You're welcome.

Bitch.
--M

[p.s.--I know it's a side issue, but i was just thinking about an old post called "Shaun White...mmm..." from last February, and I would just like to point out that when Milkshake put's her mind to something, she delivers. Specifically the part where I was all like: "I know I said I’d stop after that one pro-skier, but can’t a girl bag a pro-snowboarder before she dies?" Yeah, done and done. I'm just saying you better fucking watch out Brodeur. --M]

Pink is the New Black

2006-04-13T18:50:00.000-07:00

Aaron Brodeur is fucking DEAD.

That's all I'm saying for now. I'm writing a little play about the events of last night to be unveiled in a few days, but for now, just know that he will fall victim to a fury previously unseen by the Tenderloin. I am a vengeful Milkshake.

It will also probably be funny.

Oh! And involve ass darts or something totally rockass like that.

I will also NEVER MAKE OUT WITH HIM AGAIN. Mark my word.
--M

[p.s.--Brodeur, if you're reading this--I AM GONNA GET YOU. I know where you live, and I've seen where you sleep and I swear by all that is holy that you wil surely regret not pretending to be my faithful British husband. "I love this woman" my black ass. --M]

I don' want NO PART of yo' TIRED ASS cuntry club, ya FREAK BITCH!

2006-04-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

"A little whale tail never hurt anybody."

2006-04-10T14:52:00.000-07:00

That's not a towel rack, it's my Evening Look

2006-04-09T16:39:00.000-07:00

A few things:

1. 'Runway' is possibly the best new game ever. Props to Counts, who worked the rice-farmers hat with a fierceness previously seen only in people who have trashed hotel rooms with Johnny Depp. Work will be exponentially more amusing now that we can start rifling through luggage and Runwaying electric toothbrushes and orthopedic shoes and shit.

2. Rivaling the buzz surrounding 'Runway' is the timeless class that is 'Ass Darts'. In case you're unfamiliar with the sport, it involves holding a quarter between your ass cheeks and then dropping it into a pint glass after maneuvering around/across/through some sort of obstacle. The use of hands is expressly forbidden.

3. I really want to bone Drew Daniel from Matmos. In a serious way. He's a big 'mo and lives in San Francisco, so I figure it can't be that hard. If anyone has any leads, I'd really appreciate it. (Alternately, I'd settle for a copy of BUTT Magazine #5 with the Matmos cock shots, but I would really prefer to actually bone him.)

4. For all you newbies sitting around wondering when you're finally going to be inducted: I'm working on it. God. Can you just get off my back for ONE FUCKING HOUR??!?! But seriously, initiation is coming soon. If you're smart, you've been training for weeks already. And yes, Ass Darts will figure prominently.

5. I know this post kind of sucks. Deal. I'm tired.

6. Seriously, Drew, if you're reading this, lets do it. You should see my ass. We can put on Homogenic while we're making out, I know how much you love Bjork. You can even bring your boyfriend. 415.487.9944. Call late.

xoxo
QC

"I'll give you two days."

2006-04-08T14:49:00.000-07:00

The Queer Comandeer and Milkshake Get Pounded Like Farm-Fresh Chicken Breasts
a play by: Milkshake Moure

scene: QC and Milkshake are at Hotel Utah last Thursday watching Milkshake's ex play the guitar with an unrivaled emo abandon. Oh yeah, and the rest of the band is there too.

QC: "OH MY GOD, you won't believe what I had today."
M: "Omigod, you won't believe what i had today."
QC: Mine's better. Trust.
M: "No way. I totally got you beat. Mine is way better."
QC: "No way, because what I had today, for the first time, was the new TAB ENERGY DRINK! It's so rockass that it warps space time!"
M: "..."
QC: "Kay. What's yours?"
M: "Goddamnit. That's exactly what I was gonna say. IT'S SO AWESOME THOUGH!"
QC: "Are you fucking serious? Damnit, then who wins?"
M: "Who wins what?"
QC: "Who wins the 'who's is better game'?"
M: "Well, I drank mine within half an hour of getting pounded like a Farm-Fresh chicken breast. Maybe I win."
QC: "Kay. You win this one. But while you're contemplating the merits of this crappy band over a beer later, know that I will be tenderizing Angelo's ass."
M: "I love you."

--M

"Stop dry humping me QC!"

2006-03-31T16:37:00.000-08:00

Hahahahahahahaha.
--M

"Milkshake, meet Tasty Dish from the Eat This Massive."

2006-03-30T16:34:00.000-08:00

The user name "Milkshake" was taken, but I managed to submit this to The Urban Dictionary using my old gang nickname.

Submission under review
Your submission is under review by editors. Bookmark this page to see the results of the review.

Rockass
adj. describing something beyond Rock and Roll, something that speaks to the pervasiveness of both our youth, and our beauty.

"Oh my god, There was puke coming out his nose! That was frikken rockass!" or "Oh my god, you look totally rockass tonight."
Source: Tasty Dish, San Francisco

--M

There were shots and unicorns and Milkshake's titties

2006-03-24T15:57:00.000-08:00

Yeah. I wish I had some great stories about last night. I'm sure some were made, and then destined to become forever ephemeral. You see, I really don't remember.

Nope. I remember nothing about last night. Nothing, that is, after trying to hail a cab after the Tapes 'n Tapes show. How fucking junior-high-Lindsay-Lohan of me is that. Here's what I've been able to piece together...

Things I Remember:
+ Drinking two bottles of champagne at Cafe du Nord
+ That Tapes 'n Tapes was so fucking rockass I just about came in my pants
+ Jane leaving three minutes before the band actually came on
+ Shouting "Rayner get me a drink, I'm wearing a sweater vest"
+ How amazing Miranda looked, esp. the tits
+ Continually grabbing Counts' ass
+ Waking up this morning at my friends house on twin peaks, thinking "what an amazing view. WHERE THE FUCK AM I??"

Things I Have Been Filled In On:
- Throwing an empty shot glass clear across the bar, much to my former boss's consternation
- Making out on top of the bar at Tubesteak after the lights got turned on(again, trashy/Lindsay Lohan)
- "DO YOU HAVE ANY COKE??"
- Going to some house party at someones house who was sleeping and I didn't know it was his so thank god I didn't make an ass of myself
- Friends attempting to drop me off at home twice, to no avail (apparently I couldn't remember which house was mine)
- Removing my shirt in public (Lindsay Homohan)
- Skipping through the bar with Josh, drinking Ginger Ale which purportedly contained whiskey (I had been cut off 20 minutes ago)
- Falling over so hardcore outside of Aunt Charlie's
- Getting my picture taken in some bed wearing a wig (the picture mysteriously disappeared)
- Promising not to puke in the cab back to Stanley's, and following through (please. I'm not THAT L Lo)

A friend recently told me that I "have absolutely no self-control". I'm finally starting to see where he was coming from.

xoxo
QC

PS: If anyone has seen the cd I bought last night and promptly lost, I'd like it back please.

Calling All Audiophiles!

2006-03-23T16:09:00.000-08:00

Franz Ferdinand Frontman Shot By Gavrilo Princip Bassist

March 17, 2006--Issue 42•12--The Onion SF

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND—Lead singer and guitarist for pop band Franz Ferdinand, Alexander Kapranos, is in critical condition today after being shot by a man identified as the bassist for rock group Gavrilo Princip. "We ask fans to cooperate with Interpol to find the assailant, and call upon British Sea Power, Snow Patrol, and The Postal Service for help," drummer Paul Thompson told music magazine NME Monday. "The suspect had links to The Decemberists and The Libertines, and we are following up on all leads." It is unclear whether the shooting was linked to The Polyphonic Spree's invasion of Belgium earlier this week.

Harrrr Matey!

2006-03-20T13:34:00.000-08:00

In the history of Team Tenderloin, I don’t think I’ve ever been forced by a post so hilarious to post a follow up post to said post. Post post post post post. Lemme just say the word post a few more times…post post post. ‘Kay, I’m fine now.
Point being, Ron’s relationship with his little Asian friend (or his ‘LAF’) has me caught in a web of emotions, one of which, as I’ve come to discover, is jealousy.
I know what you’re thinking, you’re all like: “Milkshake! You? Jealous? How could you possibly lower your beautiful self to such base emotions?” I know, I know; but doesn’t QC’s champagne-guzzling-coke-cutting-Gucci-Pucci-and-Fiorucci life just sound fantastic?
I am from here on dedicated to adhering to this strict code of name brand and bubbly white wine conduct, but I do have to make one personal amendment if I’m going to abide by the three C’s diet, for I, your fair Milkshake does not do cocaine (or smoke pot, so don’t worry about me not looking thin and gorgeous at 16th st’s finest outdoor establishments).
My third C, after much debate, will have to be vitamin C.
So now you’re all like: “What? Goddamn it Milkshake! Why are you so retarded?” But wait! You haven’t heard me out yet!
Vitamin C is more than just a graduation-song-singing-pop-star, but is also very handy in preventing scurvy. Pirates, in addition to being quite prone to scurvy, also have all the booty of the land. In case you didn’t realize, that a lot of booty, almost as much as Ron and I collectively acquire, which is why both Pirates and Vitamin C are awesome. Another thing that is awesome is Rousseauian logic. And Gucci tennis shoes.

So, anyway, I’m Milkshake Moure, signing off and sending a hearty “shiver me timberlands” to all the beautiful people (booty) of the land. Note that said beautiful people are more than welcome to walk my gangplank anytime.
--M

Genius Is Inherently Asian

2006-03-17T20:30:00.000-08:00

Trying to pass the time at work without the benefit of myspace, which was recently blocked from our internet and formerly occupied approximately 5.5 hours of my 8 hour workday, isn't easy. Today I found myself on Friendster, my old college stomping-ground, for the first time in months and was blown away by my friend Angela's amazing testimonials. Angela, who would be a fantastic addition to our gang if she ever left the house, rules cause she's super rude, sarcastic and slaps people at will. So sarcastic, she seriously drips of it. She has sex like 14 times a day with her French boyfriend. I used to basically live with her and get drunk on champagne and sit in her basement every night. To cut it short, I am enamored with my little asian friend, and wish I saw her more than once a month since she now lives 5 blocks away from me. So without further ado, I bring you the best six testimonials she ever wrote me in descending chronological order. I couldn't decide which one to cut to make it an even five. Enjoy.

11/05/2005

Princess Ron and King Angela have been taking educational tours of lower income neighborhoods to become more "at one" with "the common people."
Last weekend, they visited an area called "Pacific Heights" where most residents live without butlers, forcing them to endure hard manual labor like walking their dogs or, god forbid, cooking their own meals, sometimes, not even gourmet. Traditional clothing worn by people in this area is made of a material called "cotton", supposedly, rooting back to the days of slave-trade. Princess Ron and King Angela were also said to have visited an "apartment complex" where people "rent", sometimes living in the same building with complete strangers. During their 40 minute visit, only one mishap happened, where Princess Ron was offered some Merlot. Royal Security, however, quickly sedated the servant with a stun gun, leaving the Princess with minimal psychological damage.

09/27/2005
[Excerpt from a conversation with Ron and Stranger who sees fabulously thin and gorgeous Ron sitting at an outdoor cafe]

Stranger: Wow, you are so thin and gorgeous
Ron: I know
Stranger: Will pot smoking make you gain weight?
Ron: Yes, but don't worry. It's a gateway to other drugs like cocaine which will make you lose weight.

08/09/2005
Now that we have dismembered TRIFECTA, Ron and I had to pick up a new provisionary friend, and FAST, considering the Mayor's ball was just three days away.

Naturally, the first thing we had to do was take what's his face--I don't really remember his name-- shopping for a new wardrobe. And let me tell you, when he stepped out of the dressing room, he was treadding on some pretty flat champagne.

'Faux?!' I don't think so. First of all, we don't wear anything that's not endangered, and second of all, you need to lose about 8 pounds in the face if you intend on wearing fur. With three days left till the ball, I just don't think you're going to pull it off. If you want to hang out with us, you need to start being Uber responsible about such matters. Take Ron for example. Knew he was going to wear fur at the Studio 54 party and needed to lose 3 pounds from his face. So like a RESPONSIBLE fashionista, he started the 3 C's diet a week in advance.'

Needless to say, it didn't work out.

07/18/2005
Hurricane Ron, which has been steadily ripping new assholes across San Francisco, tragically killed two Irish snowblowers in their truck last Thursday.

Originating from Western Massachusettes, Hurricaine Ron has worked its way across the country, causing drought and famine amongst the nation's finest whiskey distilleries and local hamburger joints, annhiliating the highest of trees and blowing the clothes off of rual and suburban America's worst dressed women, as if to say 'Bitch, I'd rather see you naked than see you wear that.'

The damage caused by Hurricane Ron is estimated at 3.2 million dollars, just enough to cover his shoe and champagne expenses for the current season.

06/29/2005
I went with Ron to see his editor at EpicureanGods.com, about a piece he had written for the forthcoming issue.

"You need to cut a few things from the piece," the editor said, "Particularly
the 'calves are too young to appreciate the pleasures of veal, therefore we shouldn't feel bad about killing and eating them' section of the article. I don't think it will roll over well with PETA."

To which Ron quickly rolled his fuck-me eyes and replied:

"Bitch, I don't cut anything unless it's high grade Colombian cocaine off the
bathroom toilet. Now if you'll excuse us, it's 12:02 in the afternoon and you've already wasted 2 mintues of my drinking time."

Kicking up his $400 Gucci shoes, Ron whisked himself to the elevator, where he would ride from the 2nd to the 1st floor, on the way to his sweetheart, otherwise known as Peach Bellini.

06/28/2005
Which to be less proud of?

Ron, owning a bottle of Beyonce's True Star Parfum (and consequently giving it to me after I discovered it in his room)?

Or me looking at the bottle one month later and realizing that I've already used half?

See? Brilliant. And in in case you were wondering, the 3C diet consists of only Cigarettes, Cocaine and Champagne. It should be the official weight loss program of Team Tenderloin.

xoxo
QC

"Awww....MAN! I am gonna get FUCKED UP!"

2006-03-16T16:33:00.000-08:00

Allright guys. That's it.

No more sad mopey Hermit Moure. I AM GONNA GET FUCKED UP TONIGHT! I mean like really-fuckin-ass-shakin'-don't-remember-sleeping-with-that-guy-and-his-girlfriend-drunk. Who's mutha fuckin' with me? C'mon bitches!!

I'm starting my uber-groom, costume decisions, and troop rallying as we speak slash type.

Yeah, bitches!
--M

Over-Easy

2006-03-13T22:34:00.000-08:00

I don't know if people have gotten the wrong idea, or become a little laissez-faire with common courtesies, but I've been made pissed recently. You see, I was propositioned. And not your average, cutesy, 1:45 am, 'I hope you know what you're getting into' proposition. No, this was much more demanding. You could smell the entitlement complex wafting off the individual in question.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that I have become associated with a certain connotation due in part to my postings on a certain blog which will remain nameless, but which anagrams to 'tormented alien'. I also understand that my screening process balances precariously somewhere between those of Paris Hilton and Gwyneth Paltrow. However, just because I'm some (assuredly hot) fag who enjoys the bi-weekly proverbial romp in the hay, it should be basic knowledge that the last thing you should assume is that I'm going to go home with you just because you decided it was so. I believe that the exact line was, "don't worry, we'll make it happen by April". Please. If anything, it's sad, cause I would have probably fucked you silly had you shown some tact.

Anyway, I meant to keep this vent pointed and concise. And to said individual, I would like to point out that there is no harm in trying, but that the chip on your shoulder seems to have been chisled by Paul Allen from American Psycho. At least Paul got laid before the axe to the head. Thanks for trying, and good luck on your next hate-fuck.

Everyone knows that the only people entitled to making sexual demands like that are Milkshake and myself. Next time, just sit around looking pretty and hope that we force you home with one of us. Also, white shoes never help any situation. I'm just saying.

xoxo
QC

Top Ten

2006-03-13T14:59:00.000-08:00

With my Blogoversary and the completion of NYCD behind me, I started thinking about the times when I’m not posting some ridiculous essay I wrote or writing about some life changing insight—but rather when ‘I am a jelly doughnut’ is all out funny. Team Tenderloin is not the only funny blog, oh no!

I thought I should go through and pick what I think to be the Top Ten Funniest Posts Ever from my personal blog to add to the hilarity of our multi-con blog. Here’s a link and an excerpt from each one. Enjoy.

Miami,
Mexico

"Hi, I'm drunk. Also--here is a list of some cool stuff I've done so far in
Miami and Playa Del Carmen."

And
Bingo Was His Name-o

"Since I collect last names like stamps, I decided to list all of my options
here."

"It's
a blog eat blog world."

"If you have ever wondered what happens to a group of sixteen year olds armed
only with blogs and bloodlust, finish reading this post."

Ghetto
Fabulous

"The aforementioned "terrace" is actually a fire escape with a cheap plastic
lawn chair and an old mop on it."

Whatzhecalled?/>
"See, he hugged you. That's how I can tell you probably had sex."

target="_blank">Sad
Wordsmith

"I'm high!"

Pimp
My Blog

"We pimped this shit with 17 screens! Snoop don't even got 17 screens! This
bitch got an espresso machine and a fish tank! Ba-BAM!!"

The
Amazing Metaphorical Break-up

"I don't not love you, but I can't be like this with you--all of this kissy
kissy PDA sensitive bullshit social what have you crap. It's not for me. Not
my steez."

Sunday
Morning Bulge Breakfast

"Plans were made. Troops were rallied. Eggs were wanted. Bulges were
seen. Wait...what
was that?"

Young,
Dumb, and Full of Cum

"Sorry, I'm not good at stuff like this 'cause I was born a couple
of days before
Halloween. During an eclipse. On a Wednesday. As they say, 'Wednesday's child
is full of woe.' To answer your question…wait, what was the question?"

Now if you’re curious as to what I’m up to on my other blog currently, well…don’t be. It’s pretty boring—just the same old, same old cryin’ in a closet over some filmmaker bullshit that has been going on over there for like…three months. Trust me, Team Tenderloin is much more quality…because why kittens? Because it is funny.
--M

ROCKASS!

2006-03-09T14:24:00.000-08:00

Today, I had some spare time from busily crafting NYCD, so I wrote this little play about QC going to the EndUp last Friday while I was indisposed in a Jew’s basement. Actually, I didn’t write this—mostly I just changed the names on this other thing and then added some stuff that QC would say and then posted it ‘cause that’s all I had time for.

Enjoy.

The Queer Comandeer Goes to the EndUp and Leaves Milkshake at Tunnel Top With Strict Instructions to Perform a Reconnaissance Fuck with Pant the Ninja but not WITH Pant the Ninja Like That or Anything it was Some Other Jew but Pant the Ninja was There at Tunnel Top
By: Milkshake Moure

Some Catholic Fag: Wanna blowjob in the bathroom?
QC: Sure, you into vegetables?
Some Catholic Fag: What like gardening and stuff?
QC: Yeah, something like that.
Some Catholic Fag: Nothin’ turns me on more, check this out…bend over and I’ll harvest your radishes.
QC: Wow, you’re a profoundly stupid fag.
Some Catholic Fag: I’ll water your tomato patch. Are you ready for my fresh produce?
QC: I was thinking of like, sexual acts INVOLVING vegetables...can you make it a little more sexy for me? You know what, just forget it. How about I just slap you with this flaccid rubber penis that I have with me?
Some Catholic Fag: Wait, I can do it better! I’ll touch you on your lettuce and you can massage my spinach...sexily. Then, I’ll ride your ass cheeks like they were amber waves of grains.
QC: Grain doesn't really turn me on...I was thinking more along the lines of carrots and zucchinis, but now maybe I’ll just beat the stupid out of you. Seriously, I still have this rubber penis.
Some Catholic Fag: My zucchinis can caress your carrots. Damn baby you’re right, this shit is HOT!
QC: I wish you were dead.
Some Catholic Fag: My turnips are listening for the soft cry of your love. My insides are turning to celery. I want to unleash my warm and sticky cauliflower of love all over you Rob!! Omigod I think I love you more than butternut squash!
QC: Actually it’s Ron, and what the fuck is this, Madlibs? Just fucking blow me or I'm fucking leaving this bathroom.
Some Catholic Fag: Yeah, I wanna unleash my cauliflower all over your olives just like Joseph did to Mary! OMIGOD! Forgive me lord for I am about to sin!
QC: Are you fucking Catholic? GODDAMNIT! MILKSHAKE WARNED ME ABOUT THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT!
Some Catholic Fag: Are you okay? Are you doing all right?

[fin]

p.s.—coming soon, what QC, Big D, Pant, Counts, Humps, Bud, Jay-Jay and Milkshake did on their summer vacations.
--M

Milkshake Brought a Boy to the Yard

2006-03-07T18:19:00.000-08:00

Oh, you guys. No really, it's okay--you can stop clapping now.

Oh, you didn't hear? Oh yeah. Guess what? I HAD SEX.

No really, my self imposed casual sex sabbatical is over thanks to Big D visiting from Scottsdale, Jess turning 21, and a whole host of other awesome stuff that culminated at Tunnel Top last friday. The Queer Commandeer is soooo proud of me right now; he was starting to think I was bringing morale in the gang down. Oh, and don't worry everyone, he wasn't Catholic, just a nice normal Jew.

Oh, and in case you're reading this and for some reason thought that this is some kind of secret: Oh yeah, sorry. It's not. Everyone knows. Tee-hee.

Speaking of everyone--It's about high time we had a serious gang event. We have four members that need to be officially inducted--ideas anyone? Let's do this before we lose another one to Arizona.

All my love and colored condoms,
--M

Female Hockey Players do it without an Audience

2006-02-25T16:35:00.000-08:00

I must admit, I'm kind of glad the Olympics is finally over. It's like this giant vacuous hype machine that takes over the world every couple of years. Sort of like general elections, only you don't get cookies or a sticker. The arial skiing is kind of cool, though. Mostly because the entire team from Belarus is so fucking hot I've had a hardon since the opening ceremonies, but also because you wonder how they learned to do this without all becoming parapalegics. Miranda told me that they practice by launching into a pool with special bubbles, which in turn made me picture Dmitri Dashinski soaking wet with special bubbles running all over his svelte Eastern European body, forcing me to borrow a notebook.

Speaking of Miranda, the Olympics and special bubbles, I enjoyed the loveliest of times with Milkshake drinking punch with special powers, talking high school fags and watching the figure skating finalists make complete asses out of themselves. Seriously. One girl skated into a wall. Incredulous, Miranda and I could only laugh as the little Japanese girl, close to tears, proceded to spend the majority of her set on her ass rather than her skates. As Miranda put it, "Are they just letting people wander into Italy and compete? This is supposed to be the fucking Olympics!" True enough, and I was growing bored with figure skating, so I didn't feel that bad when I revealed the final standings to her an hour before competition was over. God bless the International Date Line.

Oh, and if any of you are unfamiliar with 'Walking Sickness', go out and catch it immediately. It fucking rules. I have a whole trashcan full of snot-soaked tissues you can borrow. Sure, I was basically a human mucus factory and sounded like Demi Moore with a trachaeotomy, but I felt better than usual (probably all the tea), got 5 days off work (the star of Ghost does NOT answer phones) and went out every night (scoring quite a few sympathy drinks along the way). My only wish is that it would turn chronic. To cap the night with a cherry, I even succeeded in snagging a hot boy despite my aural skills deteriorating to those of a deafmute with great hair. Oral skills suffered no such setback.

Lastly, all my apologies to Milkshake for totally dashing out of Tunnel Top before the ass-shaking could commence. You did get to meet a little asian girl named G-Money, though. And, the elevator boy made a brief appearance, but then proceeded to dash out of the bar at breakneck speed. Apparently, the thought of having to do all those Hail Mary's again scared the bejesus out of him. No matter, he's with the Lord now. But seriously, I swear on the life of Three's Company's Mr. Furley that I will never ditch you to go make out again.

Oh, wait...

xoxo
QC

This post sucks dick.

2006-02-22T14:04:00.000-08:00

But this one is funny. I promise.
--M

Shaun White...mmm...

2006-02-16T18:38:00.000-08:00

So I was watching a little Olympic Mens Half-Pipe Snowboarding a couple days ago and came to many startling conclusions.

1. Shaun White spells his name like Boy Wonder, rather than the more common Sean or Shawn.
2. In Torino, his nickname translates to the Italian: El Tomate Valante or something like that. Ask our resident Italian Oregonian; again I refer to the one and only Boy Wonder.
3. I was this close to rooting for another athelete in this event, Mason Aguirre, because if you say his name really fast it sounds like “Mason and Geary” which as every Tenderloinite knows is where Jack in the Box is. He didn’t even make it to the podium, although it’s kind of fitting (considering our gang) and why I dub this fine rider the Official Snowboarder of the Tenderloin (Go Mason! You suc…I mean rule!).
4. If I ever meet Shaun White in person, I’m gonna be all like: “So Shaun, yeah, it’s Miranda. Anyway, I heard you give nice solid pumps in the flats. Yeah? Wanna teach me how to go big sometime? Did you say nineteen? Um…yeah, whatever. That’s totally cool. I’m nineteen too.”
5. Does he even skate anymore? Or did The Tomato quit his pro-skateboarding career already?
6. I know I said I’d stop after that one pro-skier (mmm…Sexy Rexy. Cut from marble and Canada’s answer to Big Air Skiing), but can’t a girl bag a pro-snowboarder before she dies?
7. Bob Kostas is a dick. If I was nineteen, which of course I am, I would totally use my gold medal to pick up chicks. Note to Bob Kostas who is of course reading our blog: YOU ARE A LOSER WHO NEEDS TO GET LAID. YOU ONLY MADE FUN OF THAT BEAUTIFUL LITTLE TOMATO BECAUSE YOU YOURSELF WISH YOU HAD SOMETHING THAT YOU COULD WEAR AROUND YOUR NECK THAT WOULD MAKE WOMEN WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU (psst…your crappy tie isn’t working).
8. Shaun White can fly my tomato anytime.
9. I am nineteen.
10. “Shut up QC, I so am nineteen! No, Shaun, it’s okay. I have no idea what that fag is talking about. Buy beer? I can’t do that silly! What? No, I didn’t just say ‘I could ride you until you cried’, I said ‘do you want to play Monopoly’. Yeah. I can see where you might have gotten confused. Why do we call that guy Pant? Oh, ‘cause…um…let’s just make out.”
--M

I guess they already know

2006-02-12T15:15:00.000-08:00

Elizabeth Taylor has AIDS. I knew it.

xoxo
QC

QC the Starfucker

2006-02-11T20:09:00.001-08:00

This is an open letter calling for more physical science in our schools. The average American possesses, at best, only a basic working knowledge of physics. It is estimated that less than ten percent of the population can actually recall a single formula or describe a fundamental law. Few understand just how indisposable physics is to, and indeed responsible for, all modern scientific thought. It is this very ignorance which leads to events such as ME GETTING KICKED OUT OF SOME SHITTY PARTY FOR KNOCKING MAGNETS OFF A FRIDGE.

Thats right. I was ejected from a very shitty party for knocking magnets off a fridge. I'm getting ahead of myself, though. The night began as I found myself leaving work teamless. Counts was busy with homework, Miranda was watching the Olympics (??), and Big D was doing whatever it is people in Arizona do. Looking at rocks, shooting Native Americans, how should I know? A quick call to Jane Brady produced news of a party. Not just a party, this was supposed to be a kickass, balls to the wall bash, complete with two stories, a sweet garden, and a kissing booth staffed by someone so hot he'd make God himself come in his pants, if he wasn't dead.

Supposed to be. The party was lame, the kissing booth was empty (save for the frizzy-haired shrew I probably would decline CPR from), the crowd sucked, and the music sucked worse. At one point I told the hostess that if "My Humps" was played one more time, her laptop would soon be traveling one way to the sidewalk via the open window. Desperate messages were sent to Counts, all in vain. It wasn't all bad, though; I ended my dry spell with the help of a hot little Mexicano who, as it turns out, is a local celebrity thanks to everyones second favorite weekly SF publication.

And thereupon, things stopped making sense, and I was unpolitely asked to leave. Because of the magnets. Sure, they got knocked off cause the Mexican boy and I were furiously making out against the refrigerator, but it was supposed to be a party. And they were just fucking magnets, they weren't even holding any pictures up. Trying to reason with the girl proved futile, as something as complex as the rules of magnetism was apparently too cerebral. I decided a better idea would be to loudly let the guests know that their hostess was a racist, which I was fairly sure would be funny if she actually was. I was right. And to boot, we were kicked out of our cab home, again for the making out. Apparently the cab driver had never been to San Francisco before, and had seen quite enough dirty faggots on the Brokeback Mountain ad in the Chronicle. The sex, however, was eye-rolling mind-blowing hip-aching-climax good. It would have to be, considering the foreplay alone had gotten us ejected on two separate occasions.

xoxo
QC

"AIDS is funny!"

2006-02-09T18:15:00.000-08:00

So while hanging out with the Ninjas the other night, QC and I came up with the best game ever. It's called:

How do you know if you have AIDS?

example:

QC: How do you know if you have AIDS?
M: How?
QC: When even Count Dracula wont suck your blood.
M: Hahahaha!! Okay, Okay...how do you know if you have AIDS?
QC: How?
M: When your face finally has more sores than your crotch.
QC and M: Hahahahahaha!!!!

Just thought you might want to know.
--M

Courting in the 21st Century

2006-02-07T16:27:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it was the two episodes of Sex in the City we had just watched. Perhaps it was the cold beers we were consuming. Or, perhaps it was the fact that Milkshake was trimming my pit hair at the time. Regardless, of the reason, we had decided that there had to be a better way to get a date. Let me first clarify that we mean 'date' in the traditional sense of an event or activity two people share prior to banging, in the hopes that it will lead to said bang. The Team Tenderloin sense usually looks something like running into that guy you banged two weeks ago at the bar, and avoiding him like the plague cause you have no idea what his name is.

But I digress. In the span of my entire life, I have probably been on something like four actual dates, all of them mind numbing. They generally went something like this:

Queer Comandeer: This place is really good.
Stupid Fag: I know, I love Chinese food.
QC: This is a Thai restaurant.
SF: Well Orientals are the best cooks, anyways. Didn't you totally cry at Oprah yesterday? Oh my god, I was bawling.
QC: I wish you were dead.
SF: What?
QC: I said I don't feel well and have to go home. Thanks for dinner.
SF: But we haven't even gotten our entrees, and I only have seven dollars on me.
QC: Good luck with that.
[Exit stage right]

There had to be a better way to get laid in a socially approved, albeit antiquated and boring way than this, Milkshake and I reasoned. And when the answer came, it was clear as day. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you The Makeout Date. The Makeout Date is virtually infallible, as you would only schedule one with a person you're already attracted to, there is no risk of having to sit through a bad movie, and it lasts like three hours, tops. I can't believe we never thought of this before. Check out how smoothly it runs:

QC: Hi, how are you?
Prey: Pretty good.
QC: I didn't ask for your life story. [Attacks]

See, perfect. Fuck convention.

xoxo
QC

Ready to Strike

2006-02-06T18:51:00.000-08:00

All y'all gon' be jealous 'cause I got Ninjas living three blocks from me.

Real live Ninjas.

Let's see if they'll make the Team Tenderloin grade (seeing as we have very high standards).

To be continued...
--M

The Jew and the Gentile

2006-01-31T15:30:00.000-08:00

Maybe we were all better off when QC and I were veritable hermits, because what started out as an innocent outing to Tunnel Top (Bush @ Stockton=East Loin) turned into a dirty-martini-laden-white-boy-dance-off-serve-a-thon on both floors. The really unfortunate thing about the events of last week is that at 2 am, we were somehow not done.
Beers were purchased, troops were rallied--giant inhumanly sized penises were seen. Well, more than seen. Damn! That QC is such a freakin' slut! Can't he give up the cock for just one night? I mean, who really finds an elevator stopped between floors an opportune place to be sucking...oh wait...that's right. QC wasn't even there that night.

And Lo, in Loiny elevator such events did commence, and the tale will be retold under many Loiny moon to come, but fear not QC! Your name, so fair, will not be utterered in it's retelling, for it was I, your dear Milkshake--nay, your dear Slutty Slutty Bang Bang--that in the face of recent break-up lost her slutty fucking mind one balmy night midst Tenderloin streets. And in it's retelling none of us shall be led to forget that this young Catholic boy was blessed in the old ways of trouser snakes of days past.

Whatever. At least I'm not the fag who got raped by a pair of Lesbians in front of half my gang.
I do however apologize to much of the Tenderloin for possibly having seen me in quite the precarious position of being half naked on a rooftop for the better part of two hours later that night.
One can only hope that the free show was appreciated.

All of that being said, this actually is the best blonde joke ever.
--M

Team Tizzle Fo Sho

2006-01-30T20:20:00.000-08:00

Wow, two posts in one night. This either means that I am seriously inspired tonight, or that I need a more satisfying career. My money is on the latter.

Anyways, with the help of Gizzoogle, I've looked into some alternate nomenclature for myself. Here's what my homies came up with:

Bitch Comandea
Quea Comandea
Quea Baller
Crack Brotha
Queezie Comandeezie

and my personal fav: Crazy Ass Nigga Nigga

Oddly enough, Milkshake simply translates to Milkshakes every time. At least she brings all the boys to the yard.

xoxo
QC

The Ides of January

2006-01-30T18:33:00.000-08:00

Well, friends, the New Years have come, both Chinese and Restoftheworld, and yours truly couldn't be happier about it. Lets just hope that the Year of the Dog turns out to be less aptly named than last year, the Year of the Cock.

Big D is no longer with us, and he left with more than a few loose ends. First off, he was warned that had he left without posting to the blog he would be forever be severed from the giant, loving placenta that is Team Tenderloin. Of course, none of us really has the heart to get rid of the poor guy, so instead I propose that he be stripped of his titles and hereby referred to as "Really, Really Little D". Also, he totally ran out of his party at the Hemlock before I could follow through with Counts' request to have my way with him before he left the state (you might be aware that I am the sole member of TT to have never had incestuous gang relations. I guess our recruiter at Aunt Charlies needs to be fired). You can all rest assured that there will be a very long, stiff penalty awaiting him here in the city. Lastly, and most troubling, is the fact that he seems to think he is above Team Tenderloin Law. You can't just move to Arizona without getting beat out of the gang, you know. I think I just found our first assignment for the New Ninjas in Town.

A more pressing matter is our need to assemble a kickass trivia team. Not out of pride, or shame, or even fear of embarassment. Come on, the Edinburgh is rarely packed with effete. Team Tenderloin doesn't even want to come in first. As you might have guessed, all we really care about is the drink tickets. We have some slots already filled: Miranda is our token Jew, Carlos is the buff Latino sports guy, Counts is our "card counter" and I'm the faggot movie buff. However, the following positions are still available:

Obnoxious Music Guy
I-Quadruple-Majored-At-Cornell Guy
Presidential Intern Guy
Guy Who Can Actually Remember To Look Up Top Grossing Movies Of The Week Guy
Rennaisance Fair Guy/Never Moved On To The 20th Century Guy
Literature Sure Guy
Skinny Indie Guy With Glasses (you know, for inspiration)

To apply, wait at Polk and Post with a headshot, two references, and three drink tickets until we get there.

Oh yeah, and the move to Tenderloin South went great, thanks to the gracious help of two teamates, a gentile in a big ass van and lots of Bobs doughnuts. There's all our allies from the Lower Haight just down the street serving up cheap sake to keep up the good ol' TL buzz. And just so I don't get homesick, I've hired a team of trannies to patrol the block around the clock and replaced all the palm trees with relapsed drug addicts. Plus, I now shit in the street. Drop by anytime!

Lastly, I should mention that for the good of ourselves, our seratonin levels, and the wellbeing of the entire Catholic faith, Miranda and I are no longer allowed out without the direct supervision of the other. If you catch one of us alone, please escort us directly to our designated meeting spot, The Summer Place. We thank you in advance.

xoxo
QC

The Fate of the Loin

2006-01-19T17:09:00.000-08:00

First, we found out we were losing Big D to Scottsdale.

Then, we found out we were losing our clubhouse.

But QC moving to the Mission? That's just crazy talk.

Yes, our very near and dear Queer Comandeer (and you say I'm too drunk to be a poet...) will be moving to 16th and So. Van Ness, an area he likes to call "Tenderloin South".

Tenderloin South? That is so clearly the Mission that it boggles the mind. But he is right as he notes quite often: "Well it looks like the Tenderloin--it's a total shithole!"

Also we got drunk I guess, blah blah...sorry to all: QC and I have kind of been hermits lately.
But lo! I will leave you with the best team name for Quiz Night at Edinburgh Castle ever: And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Vagina
Sweet.
--M

So confused...

2005-12-29T05:21:00.000-08:00

Was I really the only one who left my shirt on tonight? This is counting the Army guy who, and I quote, "still has shrapnel in [his] leg". Seriously. And was I the only one who refused to dance to The Bravery? Miranda too, of course, cause good sense runs in the family. Counts obstained as well, cause he was, uhh, indisposed. And Big D was (surprise, surprise) MIA. I think tonight wins the prize for the most obviously outward bromantically homoerotic gay display ever. Seriously. For serious, I kind of want to put on a Liza Minelli album and jerk off to the Bowflex commercial just to fit in. I can't stress my seriousness enough. If it wasn't for all the tits and orgasmic moans I witnessed tonight, I would swear that all my coworkers had joined the Mary train and started scarfing dick. Plus, I'm wicked wasted right now. Jesus H...

xoxo
QC

Heresy for the Holidays

2005-12-23T17:00:00.000-08:00

The holiday season is traditionally a time for the world to rest on its proverbial laurels. However, I'm here to assure you that your local suicide hotline isn't the only thing thats been crazy busy these past few weeks. Team Tenderloin, well-coiffed and hot-assed as usual, has been on the go; making it happen, busting it up, dishing it out and garlanding it with candy canes. Why, just last week....

- Team Tenderloin discovered that the much heralded "mulled wine" of December lore is nothing more than equal parts port and brandy, and can be enjoyed cold. You can convieniently place the blame on that when you're molesting the magnetic poetry man and reminding your host that just because he's throwing the party doesn't mean we're all going to lay around sucking his dick.

- Team Tenderloin doesn't know from experience exactly what penguins smell like, but apparently it is not good.

- Team Tenderloin founded a new church, on this the 22nd day of the 12th month of the year of our saviour, Jack Daniels. The position of Blood of Christ will now be filled by Manhattans, up of course. Since we deemed that communion wafers had way too many empty calories, the position of Body of Christ will be filled by cocaine. The sacrament may only be recieved by males, and it must be administered off the breasts of our women, which they will raise up to the lord. The perks, you ask? Well, there's the Blood Orgy on first and third Sundays, and I think we can all agree that Miranda makes Mary Magdaline look like a tired old bitch. Apply now!

- Not that Team Tenderloin is ever bored, let alone boring, but now and then a girl needs to spice things up just for shits and giggles. The easiest way to do this is to become industrial. Turns out all you need is ripped fishnets and angst.

- Did you ever think of how funny it would be to go Jewish christmas caroling? Like dress up as a dreidel or Hassidic Jew or something and sing Hava Nagila door to door on christmas eve? Well, we did.

- Now, Team Tenderloin is known for many things, restraint not being one of them. It's always nice when coworkers hump on the kitchen floor, roomates tally up double-digit makeouts in the course of hours, slightly malfunctional reindeer are smashed to bits, grams of cocaine (bought off a friends ex-boyfriend who is now a 'mo, incidentally. (and really hot, too)) are decimated at whirlwind pace leaving few noses unbloodied, and gang apathy erupts in the notorious Cosby Sweater Thugz. It's especially nice when Team Tenderloin is merely an innocent bystander to these events. Except the cocaine, which one teammate fell victim to. Plus, TT managed to sweettalk its way past the doorman and into the arms of a waiting drink at 1:50 at the Hemlock. Delicious.

With that, dear friends, we are exhausted and looking forward to a good hour of rest before festivities resume. Besides, I have to go shopping for an outfit to wear to the repremiere screening of "Trapped In A Closet" tomorrow night. Happy Holidays.

xo
QC

Watch out. Just watch out.

2005-12-09T16:59:00.000-08:00

Monday Night Money Grab

2005-11-30T18:23:00.000-08:00

Today, I have a question for you all:

Who wants all my money?

Oh really? You do? Cool. Then you should come to Team Tenderloin's new weekly Poker Night, at the all new relocated and revamped Hall of the Loin!

Were servin' up cold beers and dollar bills every Monday night on Polk and Pine. Yay! For you newcomers to taking all my money, here's a short tutorial on how to play Texas Hold 'em.

1. Each player is dealt two cards face down. These are called your hole or pocket cards.

2. Then there is a round of betting starting with the guy to the left of the two who posted the blinds. This round is usually referred to by the term pre-flop.

3. After the betting round ends, the dealer discards the top card of the deck. This is called a burn card. This is done to prevent cheating.

4. The dealer then flips the next three cards face up on the table. These cards are called the flop. These are communal cards that anyone can use in combination with their two pocket cards to form a poker hand.

5. There is another round of betting starting with the player to the left of the dealer.

6. After the betting concludes, the dealer burns another card and flips one more onto the table. This is called the turn card. Players can use this sixth card now to form a five card poker hand.

7. The player to the left of the dealer begins another round of betting. In many types of games, this is where the bet size doubles.

8. Finally, the dealer burns a card and places a final card face up on the table. This is called the river. Players can now use any of the five cards on the table or the two cards in their pocket to form a five card poker hand.

9. There is one final round of betting starting with the player to the left of the dealer.

10. After that, all of the players remaining in the game begin to reveal their hands. This begins with the player to the left of the last player to call. It's called the showdown.

11. The player who shows the best hand wins! This is your opportunity to take my frikken money!

See you all on Monday.
--M

Where have all the trannies gone?

2005-11-19T21:28:00.000-08:00

Consider this an APB of sorts. Yolanda, everyones favorite TL streetwalker, has gone missing as of late. For the last few months, she brightened the Polk-Post corner every afternoon with a dazzling smile and the weave to match. Our friendship began when she stopped me on my way to work requesting a light for her pink Fantasia.

Yes, my friends, it was love at first sight. The dull intersections of Bush, Sutter, etc. seemed a little less drab knowing that I would be greeted with an enthusiastic "Hi, sugar, how you doing?" once I reached Post. More than once, she has welcomed me with a mouthful of hard-boiled egg. Yolanda was quite a charmer.

So, you can imagine my dismay at the void left on Post street. My direct suspicion is that she was run out of town by those ratty, jealous julies at Divas who just couldn't step it up. Please, please get back to me if anyone has any information. Yo is about 6'6 in her heels, chocolate brown with long blonde hair. She was last seen wearing faux fur, a denim miniskirt, and a skin infection. You can probably guess about the nails. I just need to know she's okay. I'm starting to feel really scared and alone.

Thanks.
QC

Harry Potter and the Half-Drunk Gang

2005-11-18T17:17:00.000-08:00

Team Tenderloin has seen the light.

Well, maybe not, but we did go see The brand-spankin-rape-me-with-a-wand-new Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It pretty much ruled.

After much discussion, Boy Wonder, Counts and I decided that these were the best parts of the movie.

5. When Hermione shows up at the ball in a pink gown and a push-up bra. Seriously. That girl is J. K. Rowlings answer to Britney Spears.

4. When we finally found our seats and someone behind us had snuck in some Sparks. I was all: "Where is my Sparks! I didn't bring anything 'cause I thought there'd be fucking kids here!"

3. When Harry drools on himself when he's trying to check out Cho Chang. Oh well; at least he gets to make out with her in the next one.

2. When Meir Hurwitz turned to me and said (in a thick Brooklyn accent): "Hey, Mirandy, I don't get it. How did that kid do that?" to which I replied, "Meir, it's fucking Magic."

Oh, wait. That didn't happen. Furthermore, it's only funny to those of you who know Meir. Sorry. Anyway...

2. When Boy Wonder actually wanted to leave the house.

1. The gratuitous nakedness of Harry's svelt and boyish torso when bathing in the 5th floor Prefects bathroom. And to those of you who are already asking: Yes. I would totally do Harry Potter. Especially if he brought the wand.

Harry however is far from a first choice. In order of do-ability:
3. Fred or George Weasley. Or both. Whatever.
2. Angelina, Gryffindor keeper (?).
1. Neville Longbottom. Mmmm. I like 'em dorky.
--M

The Mmm has six M's and the Beer has five E's.

2005-11-14T23:03:00.000-08:00

O.K. so we finally figured it out, and without any further a do we unveil the four tenderloin food groups:

burrito, asian, burger, drunkenness

The reason behind this? Well, if you ever find yourself in the Tenderloin after ten and don't want to eat pizza, this is really all you can get. Especially the drunkenness.

Also there have been many sick parties that we have been too drunk to post about.

Continuing education

2005-10-28T21:45:00.000-07:00

If the blurry events which transpired this Wednesday offered any pearls of wisdom, consider the following to be the flaky, hardened pearls bound to embarass you when you meet your parents for lunch later that morning:

1. There's no such thing as too much red lipstick, but always remember to blot. And change the white sheets, for god sakes. My bedroom looks like something out of the Shining.

2. If you find yourself in the ladies room of your place of business with a giant lobster and a six foot tall drag queen, don't try to blow lines off the drag queens titties. Just clean off the sink.

3. Whiskey over Fernet. Always. Can't stress this enough, kiddies.

4. When a grown man goes to Swig in a ratty wig and babydoll dress, all the tourists from Omaha are so besides themselves they buy said man as many drinks as he can down in 30 minutes (six). No such luck at the High Tide.

5. Always be a gentleman. If your two friends want to bump uglies after hours at your house, the couch is hardly feasible. Offer them your bed and make yourself comfortable on the living room floor, just next to the overstuffed couch.

6. Jesus Christ, Moure, next time we're going to need a costume better than "drunk TL party girl". What a cop-out.

7. One day off after all this was nowhere near enough.

I can't believe we are just starting Halloween Weekend. Hopefully rehab can wait until Tuesday.

xoxo
QC

All is Quiet on the Nob Hill Front

2005-10-27T22:34:00.000-07:00

I have declared all-out-no-holds-barred WAR on the Pizza place down the street from my house. These people suck with a vengeance that is unrivaled in quantity and general ass-sucking quality. I hate them. For a full recap, go here, but you can take my word for it that these people are the spawn of Satan and Kevin Federline.

If you love me (You said you loved me!! What? Omigod! How could you lie to me like that!) then you will repeatedly call the below mentioned phone numbers as often as possible, scream some obscenities into the phone and then hang up. Or, you can order many many many pizzas to fake addresses.
415.885.3334
415.756.4118

Thanks in advance,
The Moure Whore

A Clockwork Orgy

2005-10-27T13:01:00.000-07:00

There was me, that is Peter, and me three droogs, Andrew, Claudia, and Taylor. It all began at the Milk Bar (my work's halloween party). I, your humble narrator, dressed in me standard boots, hat, white trousers, suspenders and of course me stuffed cock-piece. Me droogs and I decided to head out for a little of the old ultra drinking. Ditching the sophistos at the party, we hopped into the Durango 95 and met up with the Queer Commandeer, dressed as Courtney Love, complete with smeared lipstick and a bra stuffed with a cell phone and a pack of cigarettes. Slutty joined us at the next stop, and oh, my brother, the debauchery ensued. Shortly before getting our rassadooks on to the next stop for a little of the old last call, our yellow chicken-feathered boss joined us in the fray and bought a round of milk-plus moloko velocet (Fernet) to put yours truely over the edge. Before I knew it, the droogs and I were back at his place and I was making out with a co-worker. By the end of the night, we were all feeling a bit shagged and fagged and fashed, it being a night of no small expenditure. I went back to the Commandeer's to end the night with a little of the Ludwig Van.

I learned two things last night:
1. Dressing up as Alex DeLarge from A Clockwork Orange is the best costume ever.
2. Halloween in San Francisco is going to be the best week ever.
3. My head hurts.

Viddy well little brothers, viddy well.

Pete and Guy Prove no Match for New Lower Haight Hotspot

2005-08-13T14:02:00.000-07:00

Last night, Team Tenderloin ventured to North Beach where the final installment of "The Pete and Guy Show" was already in full swing when we arrived. Nothin' like a neurotic wordsmith and a Brit singer/songwriter to start a saturday night off right.

Then something went terribly wrong.

Our quiet North Beach adventure turned to same old Lower Haight debauchery when I got home, my roomates already swilling PBR's and bottles of wine in my bedroom. Wait...let me say that again. MY BEDROOM.

Seriously--if I didn't live in a goddamn glorified youth hostel, I'd start charging a cover because apparently MY BEDROOM is the hottest spot in the neighborhood. I mean, think about it--it's like a bar 'cause there's always beer, but no one ever charges so it's like, THE BEST BAR EVER. Also, unlike other spots in California, you don't have to go outside to smoke. Also, the door policy is apparently pretty lax as Counts proved when he let a goddamn drugdealer into MY BEDROOM at three o'clock in the morning.

So if you're in the greater San Francisco area, don't miss Lower Haight's new hotspot--MY BEDROOM. You'll be showered with many fine gifts of Camel Lights, PBR, and falafel. Were bumpin' every night of the week right above Naan & Chutney's ready to fulfill all of your alchoholic needs. Just yell at the window with the M in it--the password is: "DROP YOUR KEYS DOWN!"
--M

Jeffery Rocks the Turntables, the Children of Lower Haight Rejoice

2005-08-08T00:15:00.000-07:00

So I'm at Ameoba on Saturday, and my friend James is all like "Omigod, Jeffery is having a party tonight!" and I'm all like "no way that's awesome 'cause he lives across the street from me!"

Done and done. We all grabbed a few pints in the 'hood, and then went promptly to 'the party' which was more like a loud, smoky can of sardines. On the upside, I picked up a beautiful Dutch boy who's name I keep forgetting. IT WAS AWESOME.

The funny thing was, Mr. Mysterio didn't dip from the party--I DID, drunken A'damian in tow.

What did Violet have to say about the shindig?

"It's so beautiful!! YES!"
--M

"You can sleep with the pizza sauce!"

2005-07-31T13:37:00.000-07:00

Oh my, kids...
Team Tenderloin has had quite the week.

First off, I moved, and am now living in Bryan "I love you oh no wait that's gross" Kreiger's room on Haight @ Fillmore. Neat-o. My bedroom window is better than TV--I could sit in my window for hours, chainsmoke, and watch Sesame Street unfold below me. My new favorite phrase: "I'll drop my keys down!"

Ultimate props this week go to...
(drumroll please)
MR. MYSTERIOUS!

Mr. Mysterious is known for many things which grant him ultimate ninja-mysterio powers including:
1) The ability to run down eight flights of stairs at breakneck speed.
2) The power to walk from the 'Loin to Sesame Street in the middle of the night.
3) He can also drone on for hours about some Latin American philosopher no one has ever heard of for hours without tiring.
4) Most importantly, he can dip from any party, bar, or gathering in a matter of seconds. SECONDS.

Now that I live on Haight I'm also host to a bunch of nomadic semi-homeless eighteen year olds. Yay me.

Props in this category go to Frenchie, the frenchiest french that ever frenced France.
She's also very small, so she doesn't take up much room in my bed.
--M

Boy Wonder Loses His Virginity

2005-07-26T03:22:00.001-07:00

Team Tenderloin: The Band

2005-07-22T02:46:00.000-07:00

Team Tenderloin just wanted everyone to know what we would name a band should we ever decide to start one. There are ten perspective names that are as follows:

10. Explosion de Pizza (Northern Euro Metal)
9. Ghost Rider (Synth Pop)
8. Winter Walks In Linen (Uhhh..clearly this is an Emo band)
7. Framework for Debauchery (Power Pop)
6. Candyland Diaries (Indie Dream Pop)
5. Spasafoobles (Performance Alt-College Rock)
4. I like Milkshakes (Mid-West Alt-Country)
3. Battleship (Retro-Pastiche Brit-Rock)
2. Free Beer (Southern Club Circuit Post Indie Rock)
1. Three Hoodies and a Taco (Inner Mission Non-Productive SF Wordsmith Post Indie Post Glam Edu Alt-Folk Post Modern Rock)

We are SO looking for collaborators. No really.
--M

The Lower Haight Connection

2005-07-17T09:51:00.000-07:00

Team Tenderloin has many strong allies in the Lower Haight; amoung them there is one who is the most apt to party, the hottest and hard-core-est (that is totally a word) of them all. Sally. It was Sally who introduced us to the beauty that is Trapped in a Closet, the new 5-part epic song and music video released by R Kelley. I cannot fully express what a profound piece of musical genius this is.
Imagine this--waking up in the morning in some bitch's bed who aint yo' wife, then deciding to sing a constant narration of the events of the next couple of hours. Highlights include:
--When he tries to put his phone on vibrate.
--When he counts to four 'cause he's "about to shoot someone."
--R Kelley is apparently not versed in modern chroma key (blue screen) technology. Don't miss the part when he's driving home.
--At the end of each "chapter", the mic is apparently set to echo as the last word is repeated three of four times (i.e--"...and a man picks up my phone...phone...phone...")
--Later with his wife, he starts "going crazy like [he] was tryin' to give her a baby", and she screams out "OH MY GOODNESS, IMA 'BOUT TA CLIMAX!" I swear to christ. This actually happens.

Normally, I don't advocate the watching of TV or movies to entertain oneself (there is so much sex to be had in this world--why watch TV?), but this will not dissapoint.

Cop this son.
--M
p.s.--Team Tenderloin got all-kindsa wasted on Polk the other night, culminating in me barging into a "friends" hotel where he works graves at the front desk. Apparently I thought it was a good idea to make out with him on camera. As per usual, Boy Wonder could not attend. Big D was there however in all of his oral (read: he bit me) glory.

"Jesus!! Rock your pan-pipes and call us some Oompa-Loompas!"

2005-07-11T18:21:00.000-07:00

So, this past weekend was debaucherous indeed! Apparently, Conan's birthday party wasn't enough high-voltage partying for us, so when Todd showed up at my work with news of a party on Saturday, I put out an immediate APB. By the time i got off of work, the troops were rallied and I was soon showered and on my way to the liquor store. Sweet.
By 1:00, we finally made it to Fillmore at Oak were we proceeded to pound fo'ties and swig Maker's Mark all the while singing a constant narration of events like we were trapped in some sort of sadistic closet. Mostly what I remember from this party is a series of lines uttered beautifully and drunkenly throughout the course of the night. Some excerpts:
"Omigod!! It's so beautiful! Lemme just play a little tune about it!" --Violet
"I LOVE shaking my fucking ass!!" --Sally
"Slutty-Slutty Bang-Bang's on the prowl!" --Counts
and finally,
"Omigod, I love you! Wait, that's gross. I don't love you." --Bryan

IT WAS AWESOME.
--M

Conan Turns 27 and the Bitches Love It!

2005-07-09T12:06:00.000-07:00

Last night, Team Tenderloin decided to help celebrate the fact that my friend Conan turned 27. By celebrate I mean we drank beer, and by beer I mean alot of beer. IT WAS AWESOME, and I didn't lose my cellphone.
So I'm at work yesterday, and Conan and Trixie come in and they're all "come to our party" and so I'm all "shit yeah! can I bring some people?" and they're all "hells yes!" and then I'm like "should I bring beer?" and they were like "yeah dude!" so I did, and I did, AND I DID. And then they did, or I did or something; I don't know dude, I don't remember.
The point is is that Boy Wonder wasn't there.
Oh wait! No--he's never there. What I meant was that the point is that Big "The Bitches Love It" D wasn't there.

"What?" you're asking yourself, "How can Daniel not be there? He's the cornerstone of Team Tenderloin!"
Well, unfortunately, Big D is not as apt to respond to a simple phone call lately, and conflicting work schedules has cut into what Counts and D call "boxer time", during which many of our master plans have been devised.
Seriously, this is the point:
If Big D doesn't post soon, he will be the newest recipient of a fury currently unbeknownst to the Tenderloin as well as most parts of Frannie. On this point, I remain firm (insert firm/Big D joke here).
To help illustrate my point, here is a quote from Pant Burkett:
"AwwwwHELL! Dont make me come at you with this pencil. I dont EVEN give a fuck. I will come at you and throw this pencil down HARD. I will draw parts of your body you aint-EVEN seen in a mirror. I will humiliate you, and you WILL cry."
Seriously D, even the mightiest of cock-grabbers need to post on thier blogs, so DO IT. Or I WILL hurt you, HARD.
--M

The Seattle Realm

2005-07-07T21:32:00.000-07:00

Stardate 69.187 dash 420:
I had to go on an away mission in order to assist Captain Peanut and Buttah Johnson in the rocking of the Seattle Realm for a week (picture me jumping out of a minivan, fingers in gun formation making the tazer firing "pscheew! pscheew! pscheew!" noise). The Capitano's beer gut kept inflating as we got more and more drunk at the NSC's (North Seattle Crew) headquarters - The Duck Island Saloon (Ale House?). Special Sauce showed up with some other rockin homies and and we proceeded to get belligerant, shooting pool, and west coast toasting with the tenderloin. The first night finished with drunk driving a go-kart video game, Peanut heading home, and Buttah and I gettin it on till the break of dawn, and a little bit after.
The rest of the week brought a couple other things to mind:
1. The word "crunk" can be used in the same way as "Marklar" (South Park Episode #311). Example, "This crunk is seriously crunkin with me." -Definition, "This bitch is seriously fucking with me."
2. I have two freinds named Jackson. One is a guy, the other is a girl, who actually spells it Jaxon. Her real name is Janet. Hmmm.
3. Summer in Seattle cannot be beat. Seriously, the ammount of green burns my retinas.
4. Blue Scholars is the next big thing for hip hop.
5. No, I am not getting taller but yes, all the old people I haven't seen in a while are getting shorter. i.e. My parents.
The week ended with me crashing the Choi's fourth of july house party and getting wasted. Their house is located like right under the best fireworks display on the west coast. Teddy Choi, my best freind from childhood was there along with his other five siblings and his girlfriend who, if he hadn't said something, I would have soon proceeded to hit on as she was easily the hottest girl at the party. Go Teddy! Their parents were there witnessing their kids getting drunk and in the case of Ted Sr. getting hammered too. He slurred something to me like, "Heeeyyy, would you look at yooouuu! Still getting taller, eh?" "No, Ted, I'm pretty sure I stopped growing."
The next day I did laundry. For FREE.
All you really need to know about this mission is that I got drunk and tried to hit on my old babysitter. Can you say, "Hot for teacher"?

San Francisco Youth Screams: "Fuck Yeah!"; Parties Abnormally Hard

2005-07-06T12:26:00.000-07:00

So many of you know that everyones favorite Tenderloinite, Miranda, has been reduced to a sniveling and sleep deprived pile of retardedness over the past two weeks; insane work schedule to blame. But lo, in a very fortunate turn of events, my cafe was closed on the Fourth of July, which made me available to attend THE NUMBER ONE SICKEST HOUSE PARTY I HAVE EVER BEEN TO EVER IN LIFE (EVER).
Shortly after work on Sunday, I showered, changed, donned some leg warmers and Team Tenderloin hoodie, and breifly contemplated the 13 hour day I had just worked before walking the block and a half to Webster@Page where I promptly drank a forty and a bottle of Maker's Mark. It was AWESOME.
The entire fucking neighborhood was there, and yet somehow when I lost my cell phone, the person who found it just happened to live in Berkeley. "What?" You're saying, "didn't you just lose your cellphone at Ye Olde Wherehouse party a month ago? How the fuck did you do it again?" Well, I had alot of time to think about this on the way to Berkely to pick up my phone, and from the best of my recollection here are some events of the evening.
1) got alchohol, found my roomate and the 510 Haight boys that I was supposed to meet there.
2) then, Violet was all "dude, Patrick is SO HOT."
3) ran into an insane amount of people that I've never seen outside of work.
4) uh...this is where it gets foggy...
5) finally found Violet who had my house keys.
6) enjoyed some hot bow-chica-wow-wow with another Lower Haight kid sans-cellphone.
Let's Recap: I have no idea how I lost my cellphone, but I totally remembered his name in the morning.
--M

I Love the 70's

2005-06-29T22:53:00.000-07:00

Last Monday night brought with it yet another Team Tenderloin event: Ron's going away party at The Noc Noc. You see, Ron decided that to mark his move from Lower Haight to everyone's favorite 'hood, the 'Loin, he should have a Studio 54 themed party at a bar shaped like a cave (???).
Of course Team Tenderloin needed costumes. Counts wore pink tweed pants, a brown striped button-up complete with a gigantor collar, and brown cowboy boots. I wore an authentic black and white 1974 fishtail halter dress with wedge-heeled sandals. Big D wore A GIGANTIC SOCK STUFFED DOWN HIS BELLBOTTOMS. I mean dude, even Big D is clearly not that big.
I'm telling you, that thing was fuckin' huge, and sock or not, the drunker everyone got, no one could take there eyes off it. That pants-sock could warp space time, change the magnetic field of the bar and force your eyeballs to glance it's way. Also, we got real fuckin' drunk. Real drunk.
Next thing you know, D's biting me again, the girl he wanted to bang left, and the other girl he wanted to bang is trying to bang Peter. Not like I can talk as I was three for three that night as well--two of them turned out to be gay, and the other is way too cool for school.

As per usual, Boy Wonder was asleep the whole night.

On a side note, I had to work at eight the next morning.

Pledge of Alegiance

2005-06-27T16:20:00.000-07:00

Seriously, i think Big D almost got the shit kicked out of him by a girl. Why? Cause he drunkenly bit her on the shoulder from behind int the middle of the Louis XIV show at the Fillmore.

We started drinking at 5:30, and continued the beer pounding at the venue, Big D and I were pretty sloshed by about halfway through the show when Slutty Slutty Bang Bang showed up during TTL's theme song, Paper Doll. The perfect timing of this moment was, however, far outweighed the fact that she poured beer down the back of my neck.
The high voltage rock of the show was only slightly outdone by the hot, sexyness of each song. Really, all these guys sing about is sex, fucking, and tits and/or ass. D turned to me at one point and yelled, "Don't you love this shit, Counts?!" Then he grabbed my package. Later he is quoted as saying, "Counts! I grabbed your cock earlier!, I'm a total Cock-Grabber!" Yes, D, you totally are.
The debauchery only got worse as we left the venue to head to the Hemlock after such a great performance. By that time, I also was pretty plastered, but Big D was in his own world, biting everyone he could get his teeth on. Meanwhile, Slut, who came late to the show, and didn't have a chance to pre-funk with us, was a little perturbed by the constant gnawing at her. I think Big D refuses to admit that he bit anyone that night.
Around 1 am, I turned around and Big D was gone. I was pretty sure he just decided it was time to go home, but in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but seeing him biting the wrong girl, exclaiming "Yeah, baby! You love that shit!", and getting thrown out the door and pummeled by her beefy, flexed up boyfriend. Soon after, Slutty left, and the rest of the night is pretty foggy. I ended up leaving a cute blonde girl's house at 5 am with the beginning of a killer hangover.
I awoke to Aaron asking if I wanted to come get coffee. "Aaaaaaawwww, iced coffee, bud!" is all I could say.

Also, Big D and Slutty fell over in the middle of the show bud, and thus was our night seeing Team Tenderloin's favorite band.

"How can you kick me out of what is mine?"

2005-06-16T03:24:00.000-07:00

Team Tenderloin, although only a few days old, has a very strict code to adhere to, one of them being that you must own a pair of fucking japanese Asics called "Tiger's". Counts and Boy Wonder each have a pair, and Big D has a Tiger's collection that would rival Run DMC's collective Adidas.
Since I don't actually live or work in the Tenderloin and my only real connection to it is the large amounts of Maker's Mark and Blue Ribbon I drink in it's many fine establishments, I relented on the Tiger's issue and picked up a shiny new pair this morning in Upper Haight. It should be noted, however, that I think it's fucking rediculous that I could get kicked out of the team for something as trivial as tennis shoes, when I'm the only one who has yet to take the uniform thing seriously. On that note, I'll be sporting my new TEAM TENDERLOIN Neighborhoodie as soon as it arrives in 2-3 weeks. Sweet.