all content by chad slacker copyright 2001. don't steal, dude.


the chad slacker diaries

because living in a house with babes and hot tubs and lots of money isn't as awesome as it sounds...

11/18 -- stupid party.

me playing guitar


yeah, i know. you were all like "chad's one of those annoying assholes who never updates and just abandons his journal without telling anyone and he pisses me off. i'd totally make a statement about how much he sucks by unsubscribing from his notify list. if he had one." you were wrong. okay, so it took me a while. but hey. i'm a slacker. what did you expect?

so anyway. how the hell are you? not much has changed. max is still an asshole. juliette still spends all her money on ebay.

but I guess mandy's changed a little. that was all kind of bad, actually. max got the brilliant idea to buy this mechanical bull, because he's an asshole and he thinks stuff like that is cool, and anyway i bet he's probably trying to kill us all so he can have the house all to himself. i fucking hate that guy.

so one day mandy decides to try it out and she turned the damn thing up to the fastest setting and she went flying off in two seconds and landed on her head. splat. it was pretty messy, dude. she lived, but she hit herself in the head so hard that when she woke up in the hospital, she had amnesia. totally didn't remember me, or that she was married to me, or anything. and not only that, but she was like totally repulsed by me. she'd scream whenever i tried to touch her.

that sucked. she was kind of a pain in the ass, but the sex was better than ... i dunno. better than no sex at all, for real. i tried starting up something with juliette, but she got all weird on me about hooking up with guys on the rebound and my ex actually living in the house with us and all this other stupid chick stuff and finally i said "fuck it".

so i decided to throw a big party and get lots of women to come over and hopefully get something going again.

words of wisdom: don't ever invite al bundy to your party. actually, i didn't invite him at all. max did. big surprise, huh? i was all like "no way, you are so not inviting al fucking bundy to this party because he'll drink too much and stick his hand down his pants and run around yelling "hooters, hooters, yum yum yum, hooters, hooters, on a girl that's dumb" and all the women will be out the fucking door in two seconds flat because he's so gross." max got all up in my face about it and said he paid for the caterer and installed the dance floor and shit and he was doing all the work for this goddamn party just so i'd get laid and quit whining about being horny and driving him and everybody else batshit, and he was going to invite whoever he wanted to and if i didn't like it i could go spend the night in a goddamn holiday inn. blah blah blah, me me me. do you even believe that guy? i didn't think he could ever become a bigger asshole than he was the last time i wrote here. i was wrong.

so i rented this go-go cage thinking i could get some girls to get in it and take off their shirts or something. at the party i come inside from getting some barbecue and fucking al bundy's in the cage shaking his ass around and getting his way-cool (not) "no ma'am" t-shirt all sweaty. i'm going to be scarred for life, i'm telling you. i've been having these nightmares and shit.

so other than that the party was okay but most of our neighbors are kind of losers who don't get out much and all the women were either married or gay or dogs.

i couldn't believe what happened next: drew carey showed up. yeah, that guy from tv. big fucking deal, right? i didn't invite him, but i guess he figured he's a big tv star and we'd all kiss his big ass just because he showed up. i have to admit, he had a point.

he said he was on his way to an awards show but passed by our house and decided the party looked like more fun. i was like "whatever, dude," but everyone else was all over that. i dunno. it could have been kind of cool, but of course nobody paid any attention to me after that -- they were all like "ooooh, drew carey, let me get you a beer, drew carey, he's gonna be my best personal friend, drew carey, can i be on your show?" and, you know, the party was supposed to be about me. so i was getting pissed.

drew carey getting all the girlsand the women at the party were not helping with me being pissed. nobody wanted to talk to ol' chad; the girls were all about drew. i mean, look at that picture -- he's talking to marge, who's a hottie, and melissa's in my go-go cage and she's all like "hey drew carey, look at me! woo!" were they thinking about me at all, like "hey, chad looks kinda lonely and here he threw this really cool party with tv stars for us so i could at least give him a nice handjob or something"? no, they were not.

i don't get it. if he wasn't on tv no girl would even talk to him, looking like that. like, what's up with that crewcut and those glasses? is that supposed to be cool or something? and how come he can't hire a personal trainer with all his tv money? i'm totally hotter than he is. hell, max is hotter than he is ... well, i guess i wouldn't go that far. they're both pretty heinous.

so whatever. drew carey ended up leaving with bella goth-newbie. i just got drunk. and finally i got some girl who wasn't all "ooooh, is drew carey still here?" to pay attention to me and we ended up in my bedroom.

and just as things were starting to get really good, i realized that fucking max was standing there watching and he was all like "dude, can I join in?"

max the asshole voyeur

i totally should have stayed in a goddamn holiday inn that night. it's gonna be a long time before i have a fucking party again, dude.


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