ITT Terrible

22 05 2010

I just got home from a long day at work, sweaty, tired and yes a little chafed. Few better ways to relax exist than feet up, AC 70 or below, boxers optional. Flipping through the channels, and it sneaks up on you like a wet fart in that big lecture hall you used to have bio in freshman year, yea the one with great acoustics. The damn ITT Tech commercial. Every guy in these commercials spends thirty seconds or less telling us how awesome his new IT job is. This would be all well and good if the techy drone position they describe didn’t sound so mind numbing that you’d be begging for a lobotomy by lunch on the first day. Cue a few shots of newfound IT genius doing something all us normal non-IT folk don’t have the extravagant salary for. Example: riding a straight off the pawn shop lot on a  motorcycle or cruising around in a busted ass johnboat. Having trouble containing the urge to start your application to this heavensent establishment for higher education? Don’t worry there’s more. If the high rolling adrenaline pumping office rat life style haven’t lured you in, then one look at the trailer park trophy wife on this winners arm will. The least they could do is not fade this thirty seconds of sheer bliss out with a close up of the bucktoothed fat chick’s grill. Here’s a suggestion. If you have the option of sitting through one of these commercials or being on the receiving end of the first round of roshambo…grit your teeth and grab a bag of ice, you can thank me later.

From Guest Writer: Perpetual Student

Wedding Season

21 05 2010

We are gonna have tons and tons of opportunities to meet gorgeous ladies that get so aroused by the thought of marriage that they’ll throw their inhibitions to the wind. And who’s gonna be there to catch them? Grab that net and catch that beautiful butterfly, pal! What do you like better, Christmas or Wedding Season? Mr. Grey? Yes. The answer would be, um, Wedding Season?

Alright kind of a lame and overused intro to the post, but it really captures the excitement of this wonderful time of year.  With many friends getting married soon, I figured now would be an appropriate time for a Top 10 list.

It’s Wedding Season!  Alright…I’ll Stop.  But here is my list of the Top 10 Reasons weddings are so awesome.

1. Reuniting With Friends: Catching up with your buddies from college is great.  You go right back to freshman year.  You get to see who’s put on the most lbs.  And you get to relive the glory days with those who were there.  “Dude, do you remember that time in the hot tub with (insert freshman year slut here)?  So tits”.  Or, “Dude, do you remember that time you woke up cuddling a Shop Vac?  Even more tits”.

2. Music/Dancing: 50 white dudes dancing their hearts out to “Shout” in an alcohol induced stupor is a beautiful sight.  You can dance as terribly as you want and no one cares.  Not to mention the oodles of beautiful women dancing with you. Just give them a little twirl and your in like sin.  I’m not much of a dancer, but by God, I can do a nasty “Soljah Boy” at a wedding.

3. Girls: Probably the best part of wedding season.  All shapes, sizes, and colors of women dressed to kill.  If you are fortunate to be single, wedding season is like the opening of duck season.  Like the quote from “Wedding Crashers” states, these women really are super aroused by the thought of getting married.  It’s almost not fair.  Like shooting fish in a barrel.

4. Hotel Rooms:  Coupled with the amount of hotties, hotel rooms just add to the ease of picking up women at weddings.  Make a good connection?  Just head up three floors to the hotel room.  It can’t get much more convenient than that.  Just make sure you take care of business before the three other guys sharing the room with you come stumbling in.

5. Finger Food: Phenomenal finger food at that.  Free phenomenal finger food.  Mini sandwiches, meatballs, shrimp cocktails, it’s all golden.  Feel free to stuff in as much as you can.  You’re gonna need to fill that belly before you hit the open bar.  Just don’t fill it up too much, you don’t want to ralph on a girl while doing the “Soljah Boy”.

6. Open Bar: Sooooo tits.  The only thing better than free food is free beer.  And as much you can drink.  Let me reiterate just how incredible Wedding Season is.  Lots of women, hotel rooms, and an unlimited supply of alcohol and food.  Am I in heaven?  I believe so.

7. Destinations: Weddings are always better when you have to travel to get to them. It also ensures that there will be hotels rooms, which we have already gone over.  Feel free to explore a city you’ve never been to.  Check out the bar scene and the locals. Unless you happen to have a wedding in, say, Pulaski, Tennessee.  Don’t explore the locals there.

8. Pre-Wedding Get Together: In most cases there will be a “social” gathering the night before the wedding.  This usually occurs at the hotel bar.  It’s pretty much a pregame for the wedding.  Give your buddy as much shit as you can for getting married because in about 15 hours, you won’t be able to ever again.

9. Bachelor Parties: I don’t really need to go into detail with this one.  We ALL know just how amazing bachelor parties can be.  Instead I will provide the readers with this incredible movie quote:

Hello. How ’bout that ride in? I guess that’s why they call it Sin City. You guys might not know this, but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf pack. But when my sister brought Doug home, I knew he was one of my own. And my wolf pack… it grew by one. So there… there were two of us in the wolf pack… I was alone first in the pack, and then Doug joined in later. And six months ago, when Doug introduced me to you guys, I thought, “Wait a second, could it be?” And now I know for sure, I just added two more guys to my wolf pack. Four of us wolves, running around the desert together, in Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine. So tonight, I make a toast!

10. Watching a Buddy Get the Ole’ Ball and Chain: Cue taps.  Your friend is about to bite the dust.  Gone are the nights of staying up til 4 am.  Gone are the crazy party days.  But this is what it’s all about.  The reason for the season.

Top Google Searches – “Why do I have…”

21 05 2010

Well, well, well. Looks like we are in for a treat this time around with the search query…”Why do I have…” I have no choice but to question these people who actually type these searches into Google. I guess if I was worried about my green poop or 4 nipples then I would consult Google before my friends. Google can’t make fun of me when I ask dumb/weird/just wrong questions…not yet at least! Here we go!


Why do I have green poop?

Woah! Attention green poopers! Your poop is probably green because you, believe it or not, actually ate something green. I know this may come as a shock to you but if you eat green shit then chances are your shit will be green, too.

Some guy on one site did care to share to the world that he “usually gets green poop after eating Lucky Charms” which makes them even more ‘Magically Delicious’ in my book.

Why do I have so much gas?

First of all, farts are still considered funny…so don’t worry too much about it just yet. I’m going to assume that your diet is piss-poor and this could be the cause of your excessive gas. I’d look into more exercise, more fiber, more poops…if the poops are green, you now know what’s up as well.

Why do I have no friends?

Easy! You are a pathetic L-O-S-E-R!!! Sorry pal, I didn’t mean it…I’ll be your friend. My advice to you is to take a good long look at yourself and try to figure out where the hell you went wrong.

-Do you play endless hours of World of Warcrap?
-Do you possess more than 5 cats?
-Do you like to eat your own boogers?
-Do you have a lot of gas and green poop?

Hopefully, you get the point. Basically, you need to start from scratch and try to be more social with society. Join a church, group, club, or whatever! Just get out there and do something! I really don’t want to see you on the news about to jump off a bridge, buddy.

Why do I have so much discharge?

I’m pretty sure I just puked in my mouth over this Google search question. What really bothers me is that there were soooooo many chicks that Googled this that it turned up on the top Google searches. That means that there are TONS of chicks crawling the streets with excessive discharge. Pretty disturbing huh? My advice to you ladies out there…please for the love of God get some help!

Why do I have dark circles under my eyes?

I’m going to take a stab at this question here and say that your tired. Get some sleep! If that’s not the problem than try getting some more iron in your diet. Lastly, if those dark circles are actually ‘black eyes’ then you should either learn how to fight better or run faster.

Why do I have 4 nipples?

Woah, I don’t know, you’re about to have puppies? I’ve never heard of this and I already feel sorry for you. Look into getting those two extra tits taken off ASAP! I sure as hell don’t want to see you on the same beach as me any time soon. Your lucky that Google doesn’t make fun of you, too.

Why do I have diarrhea?

You sir, I can imagine right now sitting at your computer frantically typing into the Google Search about your diarrhea problem while keeping your cornhole puckered up tight. Haha, thanks for the laugh at your expense! You probably ate something that didn’t agree with you like Mexican food…or drank waaaay too much.

Why do I have nightmares?

Maybe you should cut out watching Friday the 13th or Halloween before you go to bed. Maybe you did something you shouldn’t of and it’s coming back to haunt you.  It’s just a thought… Besides that, I’m not too sure.

However, if your nightmares consist of you sitting at home with no friends, 4 nipples, green diarrhea, bad gas and discharge…then I’m going to recommend that you don’t read this blog any more.

Celine Dion Looks Like A Saluki

20 05 2010

Usually in a post of this nature, I would ask the question, “Am I the only one that feels this way?”.  But I won’t.  The resemblance is undeniable.  For those who are unfamiliar with Salukis, here is some background info:

“The Saluki (Arabic: سلوقي) is perhaps the oldest known breed of domesticated dog. A study published in the May 21, 2004, issue of Science confirms the Saluki’s antiquity through DNA analysis identifying it as one of the earliest breeds to diverge from wolves. Like elsewhere in the Fertile Crescent region, Saluki-like animals appear on the ancient ceramics from Susa and Sialk of 3500 BC in Iran, as well as on Egyptian tombs of 2100 BC. The breed had been occasionally imported to England before 1840, however there was no serious interest until the Hon. Florence Amherst imported a breeding pair of Salukis from Lower Egypt in 1895 and began working to popularize the breed. The Kennel Club recognized Salukis in 1923.

Widely admired for its beauty, speed and endurance, the Saluki is a sight-hound and historically traveled throughout the Middle East with nomadic desert tribes over an area stretching from the Sahara to the Caspian Sea. As a result, different Saluki subtypes, varying mostly in colour and coat, can be found across this widely scattered area.” source:

Now that I’ve got that out of the way, let’s move on to the proof:

Still not convinced?

I have noticed this ever since I saw Titanic five times just for the boobs. What?  I was a tween and a PG-13 movie with female nudity was a jackpot.  I have never been able to look at her in the same light.  I always envision Celine Dion barking on stage or a Saluki singing “My Heart Will Go On”.  The latter would be like the Christina Aguilera monster from “South Park”.  Creepy.

Observations From A Sober Guy – The Bar

19 05 2010

Going to the bar sober can be a surreal experience.  An eye opening one at that.  “Is that what I look like every weekend?  Jesus”.  These are my observations from a sober night out at the bars:

I join a group of my buddies pregaming before heading out to the bars.  What a crazy concept. Let’s drink before we go out and drink.  Ahhhh, the carry over of the college lifestyle.  Will we ever grow up?  I listen as my buddies talk amongst themselves about chasing skirt and stories from the last bar crusades.  I really think we put our bodies through this torture just to have stories in the morning.  And does alcohol always make everyone louder.  It’s like a Motley Crue concert in this apartment.  Someone grabs a laptop to play some music.  “What do you guys wanna hear?”  Shouts of Lil Wayne, I’m On a Boat, and Garth Brooks ring out.  Do we always have this terrible taste in music?  I guess so.  Oh well.  Let’s listen to “I’m on a Boat” fifteen times in a row.  But make sure we rewind it a few times so everyone hears T-Pain say “I Fucked a Mermaid”. It’s still funny after 536 times.  “Who wants to shotgun!?”.  Well since I’m staying sober tonight, not me, but I watch three guys give high fives at the thought.  This is like something from Van Wilder. Hooray for perpetuating stereotypes.  I observe my cronies shotgun these beers.  One of them pukes in the sink immediately.  That will stay there for a few days.  Dishes will probably gather on top of it.  My two other buddies point and laugh. Barbarians.  Laughing at this poor guy.  I guess he did it to himself though. I point and laugh.  I notice pregaming comes with a routine.  Drink a beer, listen to a few songs, then go out to the porch to blast a cig.  Repeat.  After a solid couple hours of drinking before drinking, the group decides on where to head for the night. One friend yells out lets go to (insert bar here).  The crowd is rattled by this request.  “What, are you insane? There are NEVER any girls there”.  He would like that bar.  Idiot.  Like it honestly matters where we end up going.  I realize this in my state of soberness. It’s not like the atmosphere is going to matter.  In a couple of hours most of these guys will not be able to see straight and will have developed their own blackout language.  A language that can only be understood by fellow heavy drinkers.  I can’ wait to see this.  I smile at the thought.

We arrive at the bar.  God, this place stinks.  Does it always smell like this? I watch my friends head to the bar and find a place out of the way to sit and make some more observations.  There is a table full of girls to my right.  A birthday party.  I know this because one of the girls has a sign around her neck and a crown on her head.  Must be a 21st birthday.  We will know in about an hour if they are carrying her out.  The solo guitar player sings Wagon Wheel.  I know I will hear this song at least three more times before we leave.  My buddies come and join me at the table, most are double fisting.  A liquor drink and a beer.  Animals.  The bar is filled with smoke.  I wonder how many years I have lost on my life by hanging out in places like this.  The thought escapes me when a girl walks by in a mini skirt.  I wonder if she knows her underwear is showing. Probably not.  One of my buddies stares with is tongue hanging out.  He’s got that zombie-like stare going on.  You know the one from “Dawn of the Dead”.  He holds this stare for half a minute before returning to his cigarette.  He fumbles it, drops it to the ground, and attempts to put it back in his mouth the wrong way.  He catches his mistake before it’s too late. Disaster averted.

The bar is full of girls and guys alike.  Most dressed the exact same way.  It’s like a Polo army in here.  I imagine to myself an army full of men wearing polos and khakis. Intimidating.  I look to my left and one of my friends is crying  holding his cell phone. C’mon dude, you serious right now? I block him from the crowds to save the embarrassment. I ask him what’s wrong and all I get from his mumbling is girl, guy, and bar. Sounds like a serious problem. He forgets his issues when someone places an Irish Car Bomb on the table. He takes it down.  Irish Car Bomb, what an awesome name for a drink.

The night is coming to an end.  I watch one of my buddies trip and fall on a table, knocking over ten drinks.  He gets back up and continues stumbling towards the bar, knocking shoulders with everyone he passes.  I watch another patron take a shot at the bar, bend over in his bar stool, throw up, and then put his credit card up for another round.  What a trooper.  I head to the bathroom to relive myself.  I realize that I would have already made four or five trips had I not been sober.  There is a line of guys at the “trough” swaying back and forth talking gibberish. “Duuuuddeee, did you see the girl in the mini skirt?” The bathroom trough, one of the most uncomfortable peeing situations ever invented.  I come to the realization that my pee anxiety will overcome me.  I decide to hold it.  I head back to the table where my buddies are preparing to leave.  Blackout language engaged.  Time for late night.

We head to the local fried chicken joint.  Someone stumbles out into the street where he is almost hit by car.  He screams profanities at the driver for getting in his way.  I’m pretty sure he would try and fight the car if given the chance.  We make the five block journey to eat late night.  For those unfamiliar with late night, it is the greasiest, most unhealthy food you could imagine consuming after a night of drinking.  Fried chicken is perfect.  We enter the “restaraunt” and all my buddies place their orders.  The food arrives and the carnage begins.  I watch as one of my friends drops ketchup and mustard all over his white polo.  You literally just dropped half of your food on your shirt.  He rubs it in and continues ravishing his food.  This place is almost as rowdy as the bar.  People fighting left and right. I feel sorry for the employees.  I bet they’ve compiled some great sober observations. Bellies full, the group makes its way home.

The race is on to find the best spot to pass out.  I am thankful that I have a bed to sleep in.  One friend drops to the linoleum ten feet inside the door.  He won’t move until the morning, and will probably piss himself.  When your young, you pee the bed all the time.  There is about a 16 year hiatus, and due to alcohol consumption, you resume pissing yourself.  What a timeline.  I think to myself, what if our kids could see this when we are fathers.  “Daddy, what were you like when you were younger?”.  “Well son, I regularly drank to the point where my body shut down”.  I wore out my body’s natural defense mechanisms to where I would occasionally blackout”.  “I also regularly wet myself like you do now”.  Yeah, my friends won’t be telling that story.

Tales From Truckers

16 05 2010

The next tale I would like to share with our readers involves being on the road for too long and eating a spicy Subway sandwich.  A deadly combination.


It’s been a long 13 hours on the road and you’re hungry.  Pull over at the next truck stop and get a wholesome Subway sandwich.  While you’re at it load up with all the spicy stuff.  That will hold you over.

That was the mindset of the trucker that lived this story and it went a little something like this.

So I stopped at a truck stop in Alabama to get me a Subway sandwich.  Let me deviate from the story for just a minute to explain to our readers that we at Tennessee Before Daylight no way endorse the state of Alabama.  It is terrible.  Especially the school.  I digress.  I was feeling some spicy shit so I loaded it up with the works.  Mayo, mustard, oil, vinegar, jalapeños, and peppers.  All of the peppers.   I ate that somabitch, got back in the truck, and took off.  I’m cruising along and about ten miles down the road it hits me like an atom bomb.  I’m about to drop a load in the truck.  Since I have to sleep in here, that’s not gonna fly.  So, I’m pinching my corn hole, trying to make it to the next truck stop, and all of a sudden, it subsides.  A gift from God. One of the better feelings in life.  I decide to pull over to take care of business.  I don’t want that sneaking up on me again.  Well, I get to the truck stop, take one step out of the truck, and BOOM, out it comes.  This ain’t no rabbit shit either.  I’m talking full blown shit, right in my pants.  Praying that no one sees me and that another wave doesn’t hit me, I start waddling towards the bathroom.  My speed has diminished greatly due to the load in my pants.  I realize there’s no way I’m gonna make it.   So I cut hard towards the nearest dumpster, drop my drawls, and let loose.  And it just keeps coming and coming.  And I quote, “I shit ALL over Alabama.

Needless to say, this trucker doesn’t eat at Subway anymore.

Tales From Truckers

15 05 2010

This will be the first in a series that will keep our readers up to date on the stories I hear from truckers.  I work at a trucking company where I interact with truckers on a daily basis.  Oh the stories I hear, some of which I unfortunately cannot unlearn.

The Watermelon

This story has been one of my all time favorites. The conversation goes a little something like this:  Trucker: “You wanna hear how to have sex with a watermelon?”  Me: “How can I say no?”

He goes on to explain.  Well, you have to wait until it is nice and hot outside.  A beautiful summer day will suffice.  That way the inside of the watermelon feels like the real thing. It’s important that it is about three weeks from maturity, timing is everything. This will come into play later.  Now, what you want to do is cut out a hole, depending on size of course, and place it on the ground.  There are many positions when you are making love to a watermelon so make sure to try them all out.  When you have finished up take the hole you cut out and place it back.  Since the watermelon is three weeks away from being ripe, the hole will fill itself in, leaving no trace of tampering or your antics.

Ok, so this is kind of American Pie’ish. Could be a farce.  But, here’s the kicker.

Now, Hardly Working, you need to take this special watermelon to the Farmer’s Market, along with all the rest of your garden goodies.  You have to wait for the perfect customer.  Preferably a nice old lady.  You sell her that special watermelon, and I quote, “Giver her a nice treat she hasn’t had in a while”.

So, be careful who and where you buy your watermelons from.