Hung Like Huang

I’m sorry, but can you really have a disney character look tough and scary to a person other than a child? Let me answer that: No. It’s still just a Nemo. I like how this dude also didn’t really bother to argue with his girlfriend about the name; he more or less, just compromised his pussy-whipped self by man-ifying said name/image.

Craiglist Guy: Nuh-uh, bro, this is like EXTREME NEMO!!! You don’t understand. He has muscles and shit. Look at how fucking scary he looks! I also added something Disney left out: a huge dong, just to demonstrate how manly I am.

Guy’s Friend: Oh alright…but did you really have to strap a giant dick to Nemo’s…ahem… EXTREME NEMO!!!’s head ? Heck, I don’t know fish anatomy, but I’m willing to bet that fish don’t have giant cocks protruding from their eye sockets.

Well, at least I thought the ad was a little funny. It literally took me seconds—olympic seconds, to be exact—to come up with dialogue that would aptly make fun of the lister.  What also caught my attention, was this tool’s assumption that cars can be given guy names. Everybody knows you give your car a respectable woman’s name… like Loraine or Susan or KILL-BOTTRESS 5000!

Oh snap! I can’t wait for this!

Do I smell a Razzie?

Somebody inquired about what my “to do before 30 list” was all about. Plain and simply, a list of things that I would like to do before I turn 30. Pretty straight forward stuff. If anything, this list will be an indication of how boring I really am:

1. Learn to dance Salsa.
2. Run a marathon.
3. Write a script and/or book.
4. Drive cross-country.
5. Live out of state (CA)/country for at least six months.
6. Become idealistic.
7. Read Atlas Shrugged, from cover to cover.
8. Visit Asia.
9. Land a part in a hugely popular TV show/movie as an extra.
10. Find myself.
11. Find my complement.

It came to my attention today, that writing (and reading), has become a very important part of my life. My current job requires a lot of driving. A lot of radio-less driving. It’s one of the best jobs that I’ve ever had, just so that it doesn’t sound like a complaint. You know the complaint: “Fuck, man, I hate my job. I hate work. Fuck work, man. Fuck, shit.” But it’s during those times spent stuck in traffic, having only the murky twilight of smog stricken scenery accompany me, that I begin to ask myself questions about me. About what I like, and why I like it. About what I hate, and why I hate it. The aim is to delineate and give importance to the vestments of my “self.” In short, a defragmentation of the constituents that make me (and you) unique as an individual. It has never, though, been clear, in my mind, how I choose to denote, define, and justify the reasons to write and better, what it means to write. So I am going to take a stab at it…right… about… NOW! No, just kidding. That would take entirely too much time to do, and too much time to read, on your behalf. You’re welcome. I think I’d rather regale you with short blurbs that give you insight into my life.

“Welcome to my world.” (It’s more dramatic if you read that out loud in an over motive actor-y way as you use your open hands to mime smoke moving away to reveal your face.)

So I went out shopping with my mom not too long ago. Yup. What I like about going out in public with my parents, individually, is that I learn tons of new things about them. What I’ve learned about my dad, is that he totally digs being out where a lot of people congregate. He loves to people watch. My dad loves to go through every possible situation that would deem it necessary to use some form of public/social etiquette. It’s as if he prepares how he’s going to interact with other people. It’s like: “Well, if you liked how I held the door open for you, then you’ll really love it when I pick up those keys you just dropped. All in a days work, ladies and gents. Now, for my next act, I’m going to help that kindly old lady cross the street…”

My mom, on the other hand, is the complete opposite… kind of. My mom becomes entranced with stores. Any kind of store, my mom will endlessly sort, shovel, and skim through merchandise. Like through all of it. My mom will walk into an aisle swarming with efficient and hurried shoppers, with a cart full of whatever. She’ll then notice something out of the corner of her eye, and just completely forgets that she’s pushing a cart, leaves it in the fast lane part of the aisle and walks off into a distant corner of the store to rustle with the discount rack. No attention is paid by her to the angry lot who get caught in the five cart radius around her, known as the non-ebb and flow zone.* But when people begin to cause a ruckus, I’ve got my moms back: “Deal with it, bitch!”

*A zone of tarry with disastrous consequences such as inconvenience, annoyance, bewilderment, and anger. A term appropriately made up by me.

So people give me crap for not updating the blog enough. I wish I could, but I’ve hit a wall, creatively speaking. Now, this wall has alway been there, but I lack the endurance that I once had to grab and pull myself up on that rope and over the wall. I’ve been doing a lot of writing (aka: typing) as of late. I’ve taken the proverbial bull by its sharp and phallic horns; I’ve started to work on my list of things to do before thirty. One of which, is to write a script. Or, at least, attempt to write a script. It’s been off and on for the last three or so months, but I’ve just now really dug in and found a nice comfortable nook in that part of my brain that allows me to reach over and pull that egression lever.

So, trying to come on here, and come up with something funny, clever, witty, or whatever, is very difficult. And although I never tried to make the site, more specifically the writing, into a blog-type format, that is now what it will become—a blog. This helps in two ways. One, it relieves the pressure of having to be creative. Two, it means that I can still write without having to do so in terms of thematics.

Also, other stuff.

Midget Parade (aka “Slow Motion Guy”) from justin and Vimeo.

What happens when readers of the blog get tired of waiting around for updates? They write their own posts. Then they email ‘em to you.
This one sat in my inbox for a few days, until its recent discovery:

Subject:English Language Observation

I was thinking some thoughts the other day (well, today but “the other day” sounds more story-esque). Anywhozer, I was pondering one of the English language’s strangest phenomena. IT is one word, but it is a word that could change your life.

Haunches.

Now, I don’t know about you (except from what I know from your blogs) but to me, haunches serves only one purpose: For rabbits to sit on. Rabbits sit on their haunches. Have you ever heard haunches used in ANY other context? NO! There is no other context. Haunches are rabbits’ chairs. I have a theory on this. It’s all an anti-thumb conspiracy. Now before you dismiss this as utter tomfoolery (that doesn’t fit the context, but it sounds good so I’m using it, dammit!), hear me out. What are haunches really? Hind legs! Not just any legs. Legs of the hind variety. Having “hind” legs implies that you also have front legs. If you have hind legs and front legs, do you have arms? No. If you have no arms, do you have hands? No. And if you have no hands and you have no arms, what can you also not have? THUMBS! Those sly rabbits are using this “haunches” bull crap to hid the fact that they are inferior to the thumbed species. So please, speak with your local librarian or other word official and promptly tell them the “Haunches Conspiracy” and bitch-slap their kidneys if they argue. You will be doing the right thing.

Your

number 20.. wait…20 is too low. I need something higher, but that makes me sound pompous. Scratch that 20 stuff.

Your not

quite the best, but still high up there fan,

Kevin

So, if you feel like the blog is missing something, email your suggestion to me so that I can not read it for the next, lets say, three months.

Possibly the most admired and sought after cars, by many, are German cars: BMW, Mercedes, Audi, and the poor man’s equivalent, the Volkswagen. I have no beef with any of the former, because I don’t have any of thems, so I can’t. I do have a VW, though. *Gasp* Yes, you can gasp all you want, but I was a dumb kid with huge dreams when I bought my Passat. I didn’t know that, although decent looking and good running, they would be so prone to falling apart at a moment’s notice.

Neither did I know, that fixing the most minimal of problems, would cost me my manginity large amounts of money. Very large amounts of money. Amounts so large, that if I began dictating past and current bills, along with estimates, you would flee from your room.

But hey, I’m a pretty handy guy. I can probably just fix whatever is wrong with it, right? Wrong! WRONG!!! It’s a fucking joke trying to fix anything on that stupid car. The whole car is composed of shenanigans attached to tomfoolery with copious amounts of rascality. Did any of that make sense? Sure it didn’t, but neither does the car. Lucky for you, I found a transcript, translated from German, showing just how easily one can germinate the seed of fucking crazy.

Hanz: We should make a car.

Auto: Yes. Let’s do it!

Hanz: Where should we start?

Auto: We’ll need one tiger, two toilet paper dispensers, a baby, a fork, ten dragon toes,…

Hanz: Wait! Wait just one minute. What the hell are you talking about?! That doesn’t make any sense!

Auto: Exactly!

Hanz: I see… A car built on the nonsensical. I like it! What shall we call this contraption?

Auto: The people’s car, of course… Volkswagen.

Hanz: Summon the spider monkeys!

And thus, the money pit in my driveway was born.

Facts about being a VW owner:

• The 1997 VW Passat does not contain a glove box; it contains a pencil nook/ elbow rest.
• In the German language, there is no word for reliability.
• “I just fixed the A/C on my VW.” No you didn’t.
• When in a VW, if you can see it or touch it, chances are… it’s already broken.
• “What’s that sound? Dude, I think you’re dragging something.” Oh, yeah, the car does that every other hour, give or take a German minute.
• The VW emblem on the front grill encourages animal suicide.
• Replacing the battery requires a passport, a good map of Ecuador, and a box of condoms. The lube is optional.
• You think to yourself, “maybe I should have bought that Daewoo instead.”
• Your friends will always offer to drive their cars, even if they don’t have a car.
• KABLOOSHHH!!!!

On a side note, check out the pilot of a new HBO show, “Flight of the Conchords.”

Me: Is listening to Matisyahu cool?

Friend: No.

Me: Is listening to Matisyahul on your ipod in your closet when there’s nobody within a ten mile radius cool?

Friend: Dude, it’s not like it makes you gay if you listen to them.

Me: Him, not them.

Friend: Oh, yeah, then it definitely makes you gay.

Alapaha, GA. - Hogzilla, a near-mythical monster hog that roamed South Georgia, is about to get a little bigger. An independent filmmaker is producing a horror movie about the super swine called “The Legend of Hogzilla,” and has even enlisted the beast’s killer on the set as an adviser.

Lithium Productions says the production will need 200 locals for extras and is hosting tryouts next month.

“We don’t need professional actors… We need real people who are interested in the movie.” The producer continues, “in fact, we won’t be using animatronics or special-effects for hogzilla. We’ve already cast Rosie O’Donnell to play the beast.”

ATLANTIC CITY, N.J. — What do a plunger, a playpen, a jockstrap, fake plastic breasts, a pregnancy test and five pairs of underwear have in common?

They were among nearly 260, items of sometimes bizarre trash that either was left of washed up on New Jersey’s beaches last year. The total: about 40 tons.

State officials are worried that the decrease in trash this year may be an indication of the efficacy of birth control which, until recently, consisted of banana peels and rubber bands.

NYC– As the pet food recall reaches it’s six week anniversary, there have been nine more recalls in the past 24 hours, Menu Foods and ChemNutra are pointing the finger of blame at each other, the federal government has quarantined more than 6,000 hogs on farms in eight states and pet owners across the country are readying to participate in the nationwide march for pets organized by Pets Need A Voice Too to be held Saturday, April 28 in numerous cities.

Menu Foods, the company that began the nationwide pet food recall in mid- March with the call of nearly a 100 brands of wet canned and puched pet foods, totaling 60 million containers, has sued its supplier, ChemNutra, for allegedly sending contaminated wheat gluten to its plant in Emporia, Kansas.

The lawsuit has been filed in Lyon County District Court, against one Frisky McWhiskers.