Busy Weekend

This past weekend was a great change of pace for me – I actually had some semblance of a social life. I was in Houston from Friday afternoon until Sunday morning, driving around aimlessly shopping for apartments with a couple of friends and scarfing down free food from the fully stocked fridges. And partying, too.

Amidst the festivities, a rather interesting situation has arisen. Well, it’s been building up over the past week, but it finally ‘exploded’, for lack of a better word, this weekend. A few years ago, when I was a bit younger and more naive, I cursed everything because of situations like this. Now, though, I just go with what I feel (thanks, Accepted). I’ve learned to accept that I have a knack for complicating my life, usually with women, and I think I’m finally okay with that.

I’ve finally realized that the complexities of life are what keep me going each and every day. How fucking ironic.

Side note – Don’t bring your phone to the gym. Over 5 years of doing just that, and I finally dropped a 45lb weight on it. And by dropped, I mean threw from several feet away. I guess it was just a matter of time before something like that happened.

Survivor: Huntsville

My roommate and I played survivor in our house a couple of weekends ago when the ridiculous cold front blew through. It was exactly like the TV show. Without the midnight tent sex (why wait until midnight?), the formal immunity competitions (I assume mouse traps fall under guerilla tactics), and the obnoxious host (I’m just a jackass). The tribal council meeting was nerve wracking, to say the least. In the end, The Mice were cast out. It was a bittersweet victory for The Roommates, but ultimately one that served the greater good of the house.

To put it plainly, the arctic storm caught us with our pants down. We kept a slow drip running on the main water line, but within a couple of days the kitchen sink turned to shit. Literally, shit - it was kind of a brownish yellow mix. Put a cup of shit and two bananas in a blender and liquify. That color. We soon learned it wasn’t just the kitchen sink. One of the bathroom sinks was also colored shit-bananas.

Next, the toilets decided to stop flushing. Randy learned that bathroom #1′s toilet was out when he tried to dispose of his dog’s shit. I learned that bathroom #2′s toilet was out when I tried to dispose of my own shit. I need to dig up the inventor of the plunger and give him a hug.

At this point, we were sure nothing else could possibly go wrong. And then the microwave broke. It seemed that the excessive cold had disabled button control. In hindsight, I guess we could have heated the microwave up in the oven, but I think that would have defeated the point. With a little effort, I managed to find the sweet spot get the 10 sec. button working and slapped on 60 seconds. I was so fucking proud of myself. I even yelled over to Randy that I had it working and everything was good. I got cocky. As it turns out, the start button didn’t work.

In other news…’shit-bananas’ is now an official Crayola color. Look for it in stores soon!

WTF Ads

People post the weirdest shit on CraigsList. I dunno what the deal is.

• Need someone to wash my comforters – hello I need someone to wash my comforters/covers, I have 5. I never have the time to wash.

Shit, I was sick of hearing the whole ‘no time to workout’ excuse. This is a new low. You’d figure he would want his clothes washed too. I guess he just has a busy sex life.

• Jockstrap maids – hit me up…nice eye candy.

This new ‘underground’ term will now become a permanent part of my vocabulary. Sorry ladies.

• Wanting to have a drink tonight at Sherlock’s - I’m looking for a friendly chix to hit up Sherlock’s pub tonight with on westhimer. I think there having a live band and would like to meet a cool chix to get some drinks with. Lets trade pics and info. Hit me up if your up for it. Cheers!

This guy must have a pretty pathetic social life to resort to CL for a hang-out. I don’t really have much room to talk, but damn…I feel a little better about myself now.

• Any jocks for bromance? – Hard working Young Professional here. Need to get out more. Around 5’11 160lbs. Swimmers build, attractive and straight. Somewhat of a multi-culture background. Looking for Jock type guys with similar stats. Let’s get out there for movies, eating out, museum, theatre, inline skating, fishing, hiking getaway trips and what not. Not seeking any sexual relationships or hookups. Just want quality time spent with a friend for places to go and fun things to do. Also make a bro feel special with an occasional cuddle and warm embrace. Try to avoid one liner responses. Include your stats. Not into anyone collecting photos. I often hangout at Starbucks to work on job projects. Let me treat you to Starbuck drinks and anything you want to order, just for meeting.

What bro couldn’t use a cuddle and a warm embrace? This guy’s on the right track.

• I need help to pay my cellphone bill - I need some help to pay my phone bill is due this next thursday 22th i just need $55 because i looking for a job so please i ask some one can help me!! please call Mary at 832-487-4402. Thank you! GOD blessyou!!

I thought hitting up CL for friends was bad, but for phone bill money? You have to be pretty fucking desperate. You know she’s going to get a million emails asking for sexual favors. One coming from me.

And some interesting quotes from this past week. If I’m good at nothing else, it’s listening in on other people’s conversations.

• “A lot of people like dicks.”

• “And Brian thought it’d be funny to make me watch a black guy whipping his dick around.”

• “On my first date, my dad was watching porn and my date walked into the room. Dad pulled the guy aside and said, “Don’t worry, son, you ain’t gettin’ any of that tonight. My daughter’s a prude.”

Three different conversations, all sexual. God bless Generation Y.

On Being Me

I ran across a quote in a book that features interviews with 21 top humor writers that sparked my interest:

This reporter asked one of the owners if Dusty is really crabby, which is what I wrote. Well, the owner was one of Dusty’s friends. What else is she going to say? It’s her friend! If you ask someone, ‘is your friend really crabby’ they’re probably going to answer, ‘my friend’s not really crabby.’

While this might hold true for much of the population, I’m different. I love my friends to death, but if someone were to ask me if Johnny was a sick fuck, I’d say, “why yes, Johnny is a sick fuck. He’s always naked.” While I may agree wholeheartedly, you can count on me always giving some sort of justification. Unless I’m just trying to be stupid, I’ll always give a reason for my thoughts and actions.

It’s not that I’m trying to paint Johnny, or any of my other friends, in a negative light. I’m just being honest. And the questions won’t always be negative. If someone asked me if Jordan was a fantastic kisser, I’d say god damn right she is. If someone asked me if Oscar was one of the nicest guys on the planet, I’d agree without hesitation. If someone asked me whether or not I thought April was gorgeous, I’d answer most fucking definitely.

I generally don’t hide my feelings. That’s just the way I’m wired. If I’m thinking something that I’d like to share with others, I do just that. Some people might think the above paragraph could create a few potentially awkward situations. It’s definitely possible. But I won’t hold my tongue to avoid awkward situations, as many of my friends know all too well.

It’s both a blessing and a curse. In today’s world, people take offense to almost anything. This occasionally screws me. At the same time, however, I make known what others won’t. Here’s how I see it: I sacrifice a bit here and there to bring issues to the table that would have otherwise remained dormant forever. In my eyes, that’s a good thing. Where’s my pat on the back?

Rules of the Road: 1800

People seem to be under the impression that I believe females are nearly useless – that’s not entirely true. I will admit that there are certain things that only women can pull off, two of the most notable being:

<– Note her expression. She’s proud. Her rite of passage is complete.

Note her ass. –>

…Men view both of the above with pleasure. Only one, however, we’re absolutely terrified of.

If the United States was two centuries previous in terms of gender equality, the rules of the road would be much different. In fact, it’s likely that women wouldn’t even be allowed to drive. For argument’s sake, however, let’s assume they would occasionally be permitted to stop cooking dinner and put the laundry on pause for a quick vehicular trip to the grocery store.

But first…

Why adopt such an outdated mindset in regards to gender equality, you ask? To preserve the greatness that is man, of course. Without us, women would be lost. Consulting history, man is always #1. Monica crouched under Bill’s desk. Women keep the entertainment industry lively by flopping their tits up and down; Men keep the entertainment industry intact by running the companies that give women the opportunity to do this. For Christ’s sake, folks, a black man became president before a woman. That puts the female gender as a whole pretty low on the totem pole.

Rules of the Road: 1800

• Women would adhere to a significantly lower speed limit. This provides several distinct advantages to men. First, it gives us the opportunity to point and laugh. Men are simple, shit like that makes our day. Second, it allows us to quickly create a large gap in distance (see preservation of man described above). Finally, it gives us the chance to bitch because they’re going too slow. We may then make obscene gestures and unspeakable remarks.
• Women would only be allowed female passengers, so as not to endanger the lives of those who make a difference in the world (namely, men). Additionally, women wouldn’t be allowed to accompany male drivers. While nitpicking and nagging are an understood part of the male-female relationship, this could severely impair a man’s driving judgment. Driving would then be amended into The List Of Acts Where Men Are Safely Away From Their Counterparts. The current list is as follows:

1. Circle Jerks

2.

• Right turns on red would not be an option for the female driver. It’s generally understood that females aren’t on the same mental level as men, as seen in this picture:
• As such, they should not be allowed to make important decisions. In addition to judgment issues, women‘s depth perception and spatial awareness are severely impaired:
• Women’s cars would not be outfitted with working windows. It bothers me that I have seen this from the driver’s side more times than I can count on one hand:

On a more positive note, women have contributed several things to the driving world as we know it – psychologically, economically, and sexually.

They have boosted the confidence of males everywhere via their knack for vehicular blunder (see above images). They are aiding the economy by providing nearly infinite work for roadside assistance companies and mechanics. But most importantly, they have greatly expanded our sexual horizons through the act of road head.

In Today’s News

Is your junk food habit making you depressed? – Even if this shit was true, why on earth would they make it known to the public? Now in addition to their weight issues, all of the fat asses of the world can use fast food as a crutch for depression. I used to believe that power lies in the hands of the stupid; now, the fat hold the reins.

‘Choking’ game more popular with rural kids – Naw, really? It’s more popular in Oregon? No shit. What the fuck else do they have to do there? Tip cows? Are there even cows in Oregon?

Cops rescue woman stuck in elevator for 8 days –  Look, I’m just saying – a man would’ve found a way out. I bet this bitch is fat, too. What kind of lazy fuck has an elevator in their own home? Honestly, I could see this happening in America. But Europe? They’re supposed to be in shape over there. Everyone should be familiar with the famous American ass vs. European ass picture:

Police shut down Mr. Gay China pageant – Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against the gays, but Mr. Gay? A bunch of alpha gays get up on stage while even more beta gays watch from below. And then they meet backstage and the beta gays show the alpha gays to the back door. I think “pageant” is just a politically correct way of saying “big homosexual orgy.”

Desperately Seeking Panther

Today, I stumbled upon an ad titled: “LOOKING FOR PANTHER.” Keep in mind, this was in the Houston section. So naturally I’m thinking, “self, who the fuck would need a panther in Houston?” Seriously, what could anyone possibly do with a panther in South Texas? I’m sure it’d be a hell of a way to fix a mouse problem, or a human problem. But damn, overkill?

I clicked the ad and found this:

“LOOKING TO OPEN A STORE WITH SOME ONE
979 922 7398
50/50 SPIT
I BEING DOING THIS FOR 10 YEAR AT HOME AND SHOP I JUST MOVED HER 9 MONTH AGO WILLING TO
START SMALL”

As seen above, he wants a 50/50 spit. I think this might be some kind of pact or agreement of sorts. Or something *very* naughty. How could someone who has been running a business for 10 years make such stupid mistakes?

My curiosity piqued, I emailed him.

“Hey man,

I run an exotic pet store and I just might have the panther for you. She’s a beauty, albeit a little aggressive. I’m not really sure what you mean by 50/50 spit..it sounds a little dirty, and I don’t want my panther involved in anything of the sort.

Hope to hear from you soon, she needs a good home!”

His response? Simple and to the point.

“business panther”

That cleared EVERYTHING up. He was looking for a business panther. Just a minor misunderstanding.

On another note, a very large family in the Galveston area is “looking for Mrs. Doubtfire.”If you know where she is, please end their suffering immediately.

Innocent My Ass

For some reason, people seem to think that men love violence and women hate it. This ideal has been long-promoted by women to support the idea of their innocence. I’m not falling for that farce. Both genders embrace violence in their own distinct way.

Let’s start from the beginning. Literally.

Violence is hard-wired into the human mind at conception. Hell, pre-conception. The sperm have to fucking battle their way through the dreaded female anatomy as a rite of passage. That’s some Spartan shit right there. Then the fetus has to battle a) the mother’s stupidity ala drugs and alcohol, b) very liberal free radicals floating throughout the body, and c) sharp coat hangers and stairs. And people think we’ve got it rough on the outside.

As we all know, the male and female minds are quite different. This early lesson in violence teaches men that we must fight to survive. It teachers women, however, that survival is based upon lies, deceit, and feigned innocence. How exactly the journey of the sperm instills this idea in their brains, I have no idea. I don’t care to understand the shortcomings of women.

Fast forward to pre-school. Little Joey is playing with a toy car. As he turns away momentarily, little Jack steals the toy car. Little Joey waddles on over to the building blocks and finds the biggest one he can. He beats little Jack with it until the toy car is turned back over to its rightful owner. Throw little Ann into a similar situation. Little Sarah steals her doll. Little Ann either a) finds a new doll, or b) cries until either a) little Sarah feels bad and gives it back, or b) the teacher makes little Sarah give it back.

Which brings me to my next point.

For whatever reason, women ended up with a trait that men know nothing of – concern. Specifically, concern about how others view them. As a little kid, I didn’t give a fuck how much some other asshole cried when I stole his legos. I wasn’t gonna give em’ back. His tears gave me a reputation as a guy who doesn’t take shit. Boys are proud of this title. Girls, on the other hand, are not. Basically, it’s like this – women don’t want to be perceived as “bad” by anyone.

About the time this idea is being drilled in, they look to find alternate ways around it. Women do a fantastic job of hiding the violence of these methods, as described below.

So little Sarah gives back the doll. She’s such a sweetheart. When the teacher calls for lunch, little Sarah waits until little Ann runs off to the cafeteria. Then she finds the aforementioned doll and rips the head, arms, and legs clean off. Then she runs to the bathroom and flushes them down the toilet.

That’s the game women play.

Action vs. Sound

While watching Bruno, Sacha Baron Cohen’s satiric gay comedy, a thought struck me. As far as I can remember, it had nothing to do with anything I witnessed during the movie – namely, dicks, hairy man ass, and dicks. Amidst the sausage convention, there were bundles of humor. I began to crave even more humor. So I clicked the pause button. It made sense at the time.

I pulled up a fresh browser tab and set my destination to YouTube. For some reason, the single ladies video was beckoning me. No, not the music video; I’m no Bruno. But the video featuring the African American (I’m taking this politically correct ideal for a spin) clown-woman. She dances obnoxiously for several seconds. Suddenly, as the spirit of dance claws at her soul, forehead meets TV. Laughter consumed me.

And then I found myself wondering…why was this so funny?

Intrigued, I muted the video and played it again. I reached climax once more (wink-wink) and found myself rather disappointed. This brings me to my question – is the act itself inherently funny, or does the accompanying sound provide the humor?

The idea that the bulk of this type of humor is a result of the sound is certainly an interesting theory. Let’s roll with a different scenario, say, man takes beer bottle to head. The distinct “pop” heard as bottle and head clash, in my opinion, lends much of the hilarity to the action. Surely I’m not the only one to have discovered this phenomenon, as Hollywood has always made quite liberal use of sound effects in comedies.

Do me a favor – give me 76 seconds of your day. Watch this video once with sound and once without. What’s the verdict?

Passion Party

While looking for another job to supplement my income, I ran across this ad in the Huntsville Item:

“Be your own boss! Passion Parties,
the leading sensual products party plan is seeking Independent Consultants to help meet the growing demand of in-home parties.
Get paid to party!
No experience needed. Training provided. For more info please visit:
passionboutique.net”

Needless to say, I visited the site. You probably will too. The words “passion” and “sensual” immediately draw in the minds of both male and female readers alike. The exclamation, “get paid to party!” is just icing on the cake, or whipped cream on the nipples, so to speak.

Before I actually followed the link, my mind began creating possibilities. What exactly are in-home parties? I mean, are we talking orgies? Or get-togethers similar to Andy Dick’s home blowjob class in Old School? Is it limited to females only, or can males participate? And finally, what exactly do they mean by sensual – Do you throw around some dildos and other more naughty sex toys, describing the many pros and few cons, or is it more hands-on work, if you catch my drift?

Following my curiosity, I pulled up the Passion Parties website in a new tab. I was thoroughly disappointed. First, it’s limited to females only. In fact, the site bills itself as “supportive of the philosophy of women helping women.” There are only two times I want to see women helping women: in the nude, preferably covered in jello and intimately close, and in the kitchen, one constructing me a fine deli delight while the other runs out to the garage freezer to grab me a beer. Any other situation, it’s a disaster.

And to top it off, Passion Parties is “led by a proven, successful female executive team.” Yeah, I know – I had to reread it too. I couldn’t believe the words proven and successful were accompanying one another in the description of a female. I’d be more apt to believe proven and whore, or proven and insane – but proven and successful? Get outta here.

The product line was strong enough to temporarily distract me from my anger and ensuing tirade relating to this obviously sexist company. With a selection including edibles, lubes, toys, fantasy items, books,  and lingerie, you can’t really go wrong. Upon reading the first line of the company introduction, however, I was immediately flung back into reality. Passion Parties was “founded by women, for women.” What happened to all of the gender equality shit that’s been in production for the past, what, 100 years? Christ on a cracker, men need love too. Why do women have to be so fucking selfish?