drunkasaurusrex: (n.)

pronounced "drunk-uh-SORE-us-rex"; from the Latin meaning "king of all drunken rampaging Teutonic males."

1. to party hard enough and long enough that one becomes an unwieldy manimal hell bent on destruction and incapable of being either reasoned with or restrained (Dude, you should have seen how out of control he was last night; he was full-on drunkasaurusrex).

2. to drink so much that one becomes loud, obnoxious and crude to the point where one is routinely asked to leave, while still regularly being welcomed back upon return, days or weeks later (HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT TO HER?!? GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BAR DRUNKASAURUSREX, YOU ASSHOLE!).

3. when one is nearly arrested for throwing a pint glass into an expensive large screen plasma TV, or actually arrested for throwing bottles and cans and pillows and cushions and curtains and people (almost) from moving motorhomes in the middle of Harlem (He went drunkasaurusrex on us, busted the place up, got arrested and thrown in The Tombs).

4. a brilliant writer with a keen observational sense and eye for humor who, admittedly, can sometimes get out of control if he's had too much to drink, e.g., me, the author of this site.

My friends coined the term drunkasaurusrex. Immediately, it became not only my nickname, but a word used to describe my entire existence. It's not my fault really--I'm cocklarge. I'm HUGE! Like offensive guard huge. Like close-down-the-buffet-before-he-gets-inside-and-bankrupts-the-restuarant huge.

I am not only a huge person physically, I live huge as well. I drink a lot, I talk loudly, and I have very strong, definitive, informed opinions about nearly everything. And, while I may not always be right, I am NEVER wrong.

I have a hard time restraining my hatred for the feeble-minded idiots and posers I encounter on a daily basis. I make it a point to let them know, in no uncertain terms, that I am better than they are and that they are, by all accounts, failures in life.

There isn't much else to tell here that you can't discern from reading my stories. Let me hit some highlights for those of you too lazy or devoid of critical thinking skills to pick it up:

-I am a genius.

-Growing up, I worked numerous service industry jobs; line cook, caterer, bar manager, bartender, etc. I know what it's like to work a shitty job for low wages, and I hate people who have no respect for those who toil in these thankless occupations. I don't work in this industry now, but I still treat bus boys and waitresses with the respect they deserve, unlike many of you spoiled twats.

-I am a diehard Cal fan, especially football and basketball. It should go without saying that I loathe Stanfurd with the fire of a thousand suns.

-Love the Oakland Raiders. Love Al Davis' comb-over and grandma glasses. Love the Oakland A's. Love Billy Beane and his complete disregard for the intelligence of just about every other GM in the game. Love the Oakland Warriors. They play in my city, they are the Oakland Warriors to me, fuck you if you live anywhere else in my state.

-I love my mom and my dog. There is nothing wrong with a grown man admitting this.

-I don't believe in any sort of god or supernatural being. I respect honest faith in the Divine, I guess, but I think belief that arises out of status quo ante or a fear of being excluded from Heaven represents an intellectual laziness and moral sloppiness that is repulsive. Needless to say, this makes serious dating difficult. Getting drunk and fucking is still an option though.