Warning to citizens of Denver, CO

I don't know why, but I felt compelled to warn the lovely people of Denver the American Ass is re-locating to their area. I think it was very inconsiderate on his part, especially since he's required to introduce himself around his new neighborhood as per the terms of his conditional probation.

Happy Holidays!

The American Ass and the American Heart-throb would like to wish everyone who reads our blog (Thanks Mom!) a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. We promise to post some pics of our Christmas loot and New Year's debauchery as soon as we can.

It's Fun To Throw Things

Townie Dart Club meeting now in session.  

In the photo you can tell I didn't believe The Ass when he said he would "F-ing throw an F-ing dart at my F-ing head, if I didn't F-ing move from in front of the F-ing dartboard". Fortunately, he sucks balls at throwing darts, and his errant throw sent his projectile straight down into the floor, no more than three feet in front of him. As an added bonus, he hit himself in the nuts when he did it too. Needless to say, we had to adjourn the meeting shortly thereafter, as his barrage of obscenities was too tough to record into our Club meeting's minutes.

The American Ass Choice for President

A vote for Cobra is a vote for prossssperity...

My Cambodian Vacation

Apparently the travel agent forgot to mention that I needed to bring my own bedding...

I don't know about you all, but I hate cross-continental flights. Fifteen hours on a plane doesn't exactly sound like a good time to me. It was especially rough since I was trapped between two hairy Russian women who would take turns sucking down vodka shots and hitting on me. I almost cracked somewhere into hour 12 and accepted one of their invitations, but my convictions prevented me from laying up with a Red.

I could have taken a boat, but I saw the Perfect Storm and I ain't interested in drowning at sea. No way, no day.

So, after I arrived to the resort, you could understand my disappointment when I saw my "deluxe accommodations." Apparently, my room is the only one that had actual flooring. I doubt John McCain ever had it this bad...

At least I had a window and a painting to stare at while the flies attacked my face.


Ho Chi Minh slept here...

I guess that must count for something. I figure if a 5 foot tall asian dude can tough it out, no reason I can't either. I also failed to mention that the room had no air conditioning, but then again, I could stand to sweat off a few pounds.

After I dropped off my luggage and swept the dust and dead insects off my bed, I figured I would check out the facilities I read about in the brochure. I first decided to check out the fitness room.


I guess it's safe to say the S&M industry is still alive and well...

I was expecting something more along the lines of free weights and maybe even a few stationary bikes, but I guess I can make do with a box and a length of chain. It wouldn't be the first time. I pretended to be Rocky when he trained to fight Drago in Rocky IV. My cries of "Die Commie" as I muscled out each push up didn't go unnoticed and I was told that the fitness room was being closed for upgrades. Figures I got here a week too soon.

After my workout, I decided to go take a quick dip in the pool to swim a few laps and cool off. Of course, that brought it's own list of surprises.


Boy, the lifeguard sure doesn't fuck around...

By the way, although it wasn't specifically mentioned above. Jumping into the pool yelling "CANNONBALL" is also strictly prohibited. Thankfully, he understood the meaning of diplomatic immunity.

Unfortunately, the staff of the resort felt I had already overstayed my welcome in three hours and ushered me back to the airport. I was somehow boarded on the next flight out and got home in time to watch Sunday night football. It's great to be an American!

The American Ass in Cambodia, Photo One

The beautiful courtyard at the Phnom Pehn resort and sanctuary in lush Cambodia.

While playing some bingo and throwing down some beers at the local VFW, I won a drawing for an all expenses paid trip to Cambodia. I was a shoo-in since I was the only one to put a registration in the box. All I could think about was the young nubile foreign women waiting to take money to have sex with me. I couldn't wait to get back to the compound and torment the Hearthrob, who missed out on bingo night because he wanted to watch Desperate Housewives and ogle Terri Hatcher.

After breaking the news, Hearthrob seemed a little less than impressed. "Yeah, sounds like fun, too bad there cracking down on foreign perverts subverting their women," he said. I may talk smack about him, but at least he does his research.

Nonetheless, I decided a weekend in Cambodia was better than a weekend watching the Lost Boys and masturbating to Guns and Ammo. Again.

I was only able to take a few photos due to camera laws, but I'm sure you'll enjoy. This top one is of the courtyard. Check out those solid concrete benches. The tour guide tried to convince me that those trees are hundreds of years old, but they were way too tiny. Just because I don't speak your language doesn't mean I'm some idiot! I know a sapling when I see one.

The next installment: My accommodations!

The Greatest Beer in the World

The is no greater beer in the world than Miller High Life. If there's ever a battle-royal between the beers, Miller High Life would body slam the competition. High Life is so badass, they created a High Life themed lamp for those of us who appreciate it's smooth taste.

Now, there are people out there who have the nerve to say that Bud Light or Pete's Wicked Ale are far superior beers. Well, if that does happen, feel free to take a boot (or a bottle of High Life) straight to the side of their head. Argument over. Once they're down, order up another round of High Life, and make a pass at their girlfriends.

Chicks love guys who can kick ass.

Taking sides in the great "Toilet Seat Debate"

Why I never learned to put down the toilet lid.

It seems to me that in the name of "equality", women would take some responsibility for putting up/down the toilet seat. We (males) put the toilet seat UP, 1 move required, and they (females) can easily put it DOWN, 1 move required. That's equality, the same number of moves are required of anyone regardless of sex/religion/ethnicity.

Which of these options do you prefer, when you're cutting it dangerously close to "go time":
a)Having to put the seat down, costing you precious seconds.
b)Having to wipe off a layer of urine from the seat, costing way more precious seconds, using precious rations of the toilet paper, and causing lingering fears about catching something.
c)Having to put down the seat, finding it soaked/needing to be wiped, and discovering there's no more paper left on the roll.
I wish they would make Jack Bauer deal with one of these scenarios on the show, 24. About 10-15 minutes of the episode would be Jack befouling a public restroom after making the poor decision to grande size his lunch burrito supreme.

Jobs I've Kept Because of My Co-workers.

No need to re-rack.

Hot co-workers certainly make showing up for work almost on time and partially in uniform more feasible for me. Here's a list of some crappy jobs (back in highschool and in college) I've kept simply because of the view from my work area:
1. Hardee's Front Counter Opener (6am-10am M-F)
2. Centerpiece at Le Maison De Mange A Trois.
3. Outbound sales representative at Total Bastard Telemarketing.
4. Subway Sandwich Artiste
5. Subway Manager
6. Head of Security for a small local college library.
7. Bartender/Trainer El Conquistador's Authentic Corporate Mexican Restaurant and Cantina.

How to Handle a Zombie

Nothing that can't be fixed with a 5.56mm round through the forehead.

If you're one of the lucky few, you will never come across a flesh eating zombie. Typically, you'll come across cash eating women, but not zombies. This particular zombie wandered onto the Too Real Americans compound a few nights ago while I had some company over celebrating my birthday.

Of course, although we were having a festive occasion, disposing of this menace became top priority. All it takes is one zombie to spread his seed and the next thing you know you have to butcher friends and family. Since I'm a former Eagle Scout and spent a weekend in the ROTC at one of the junior colleges I attended I knew exactly what to do... Grab my recently re-legalized carbine powered assault rifle and mow the thing down.

The above photo was taken just before we completed the customary dismemberment and burning of the corpse.