Hung Like Huang

An anonymous entity sent in to us a sighting of a Chupacabra. You can check it out at the sightings page.

On a related note, Congress passed a bill today which requires the vernacular of children to substitute the use of the word “boogeyman” with Chupacabra, The Chupacabra, Chupi, The Chupi, or Sir Chomps-A-lot.

The decision comes after several years of debate and evasion of the subject. Earlier today, Majority leader Nancy Pelosy pointed out that it would be best for children to be afraid of real monsters rather than mythical monsters. Pelosy explains, “the idea of having our children deathly afraid of a non-existent monster, or boogeyperson is hogwash. As rational adults, we need to send a message to our children, in terms of reality.”

Pelosy concluded, “their fears should be predicated on actuality, and not some unsubstantiated urban legend.”

1…2…3… that’s enough for me. Remember that, from elementary school? I sure don’t.

Is it coincidence that every time I go into the men’s room at any restaurant, there’s always somebody there taking a crap? And what’s worse is that they’re loud about it, as if to say (via grunts): “taking a piss, huh? Well I’m having trouble pushing this fucking gopher out of my ass. He’s got claws, that fucker. So… what’d you eat?”

I really think it’s time that we require everybody with a loud, bass-y stereo system in their car to place a giant pole with a giant flag on said car that says “Douchebag.” That way we can avoid them by driving three or four blocks behind or ahead of them. Ok, we get it, you have loud speakers, Tyron/Carlos/Kevin (he’s pretty fly for a white guy). Sometimes living in LA really suck.

Ever notice how in traffic or at a red light, you’ll sometimes catch somebody looking at you or somebody will catch you casually looking at them, and the lookee gives the looker a look of “hey! what the hell are you doing?” which undoubtedly ends in total awkwardness? It’s just like catching somebody looking at you naked or vice versa, just a tiny bit less embarrassing.

Sometimes vegans, when approached at a restaurant by their “witty”, smartass friends, will be given an option: “Either you eat a 20oz. steak, or I’m going to eat twice that in roasted chicken.” But what if it were the other way around? For example, what if vegans approached their meat eating friends and just, plain and simply, took a shit on their steaks. Would that be the same?

And finally, what’s the deal with plants? They’re growing on me.

As someone who didn’t like High School, I’m going to give all of you h. schoolers some pointers that have been accumulated from personal and known experiences.

(Disclaimer: these “pointers” involve lying and possibly going to hell.)

Scenario:

You meet up with your friends during passing period. You and your friends decide that 3rd period, whatever it may be, is probably the lamest class, ever. You head for the part of school uninhabited by school officials, and make a run for it. Before you know it, you’re leaving the In & Out drive-thru and headed for the beach. Your parents will, obviously, receive a call, and they will want answers. What do you tell them?

Answer:

As you may have already figured out from the title, whatever you tell them, it sure as hell won’t be the truth. First, upon being approached, stay calm, maintain composure, and don’t look like a deer blinded by headlights… or an owl about to get run over (only about five of you will get this last one—yeah, I ran over an owl. So what?!). Second, never repeat what they asked you. Look into their eyes, say: “Well, I wasn’t feeling too well, and so, I decided to go to the nurse’s office. The nurse is a real bitch. I couldn’t even keep my head up during my time there. I’m pretty sure I had a high temperature. The nurse called me a pansy and told me to go back to class. Last year, she sent a terminally ill kid back to class.” If you’ve gotten this far without upheaval, you’re almost in the clear. Ok, now, close the deal. You continue, by using a particularly embarrassing ailment, as to ensure the validity of your story: ” I totally wasn’t going to be in class with diarrhea. Donny called his mom, since they live right across from school so that I could comfortably let this wretched demon pass.” At this point, lick your dry, dehydrated lips and nervously cross your legs… like you’re holding in a fart. Your parents will eat this shit up… not you’re made up diarrheic shit, the shit you just made up, sicko.
Congratulations, you just lied to your parents and nobody died or got hurt. Don’t get cocky. Onward.

Scenario:

After conveniently being too afraid to back down from your convictions of “No way, dude, I don’t drink or smoke,” you have discovered your second newfound love, drugs and alcohol (masturbation and handjobs still being your first). After being invited to the coolest high school party in the history of high school parties (aka: the only party you were invited to with plentiful amounts of alcohol and a guy to girl ratio of 2:1), you find yourself high on a shrooms-red bull-vodka mix that you’re buddy carefully named the “srbdm” or “super righteous body devil mix.” Yeah, he didn’t graduate. Anyway, you happen to find yourself talking to an empty bowl that just happened to have morphed into Elmer Fudd, and he tells you to call your parents. You ask him, “but why, Fudd, you almost convinced me to kill that damn rabbit (aka house lamp)?” Elmer responds, “Yeah, but it’s going to take all night. And yes, I may hate wabbits, but wowwied parents I hate even more.” You concede. What do you tell your parents?

Answer:

Alright, if you’re messed up enough to be talking to Elmer Fudd, but not messed up enough to still be able to dial your parents… we’re in fucking business. First of all, there is a thin line between sanity and being in a crazy hospital; and you find your inebriated feet on both sides. You have to be very, very careful not to mention the ordeal that warrants you’re spending the night at who knows where, tanked out of your mind. So you cannot mention to your parents that you’re hunting rabbits with Elmer Fudd. Neither can you tell them that you’re in a live cobra eating contest (you found spaghetti!). Nor can you tell them that you’re about to make love to Natalie Portman (you found a Revenge of the Sith dvd case with a hole punched throught it). I know that what I’m asking you to do defies all logic, but it cannot be done. All you have to remember to do is reach for your phone. Everything else is prep work. Before you go out, you get a piece of paper and write the following, which will be tapped around your cell:

Hi, mom and dad. ::Pause:: Oh, it’s only you? You sounded different… Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I’m spending the night here. ::Pause:: Where? Oh, I didn’t tell you? I’m attending a one night retreat at Dave’s house. It’s a Calvary Chappel for Today’s Youth sponsored thing. I didn’t even know they did that type of stuff–you know Jesus, always trying to be hip. ::Pause:: I’ll be home early tomorrow morning. Ok, love you too. ::click:: Get back to talking to cartoon characters, champ.

–Quickies–

Scenario: You’re failing all of your classes.

Action: When you’re parents talk to you about your grades, look distracted and interrupt them by talking about something completely off topic. Is that ADHD they smell? Yes it is. You’re free of responsibility… for a while, at least.

Scenario: You were caught with a gun at school.

Action: You’re on your own, killer.

Scenario: You were caught cheating on an exam.

Action: Deny it to the bitter end, even if very, very good evidence exists that says otherwise. Also, cry a lot and say things like, “I really thought you trusted me! How could you?” and “I forgive you. I really do. Let’s just hope Jesus will forgive you.”

Stay tuned for “How to Lie to Your Boss.”