Hung Like Huang

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.

Am I the only one that is too nice to be completely deceitful? Let me explain. The other day, I met somebody who shall remain unnamed. This person, who I will call… “Jacky” was introduced to me by a person at a social gathering (I’m being ambiguous for a reason). “Jacky,” wasn’t, how can I put this? Well, let me just say that she wasn’t somebody that I would ever want to talk to again. There wasn’t really any certain aspect about her that made her all that terrible, but, you know? Erglgggleahh… So she ended up totally digging my sweet, but, oh so, very passive and superficial, banter. Yeah, she wanted my number. Now, if you know anything about me, you know that I’m a pretty mellow guy that is never openly disgusted with anyone, well, at least not to their face.

And I know that you’re probably thinking, “Shit, Eric, don’t be a dick to ugly chicks. You ain’t no Kobe Dome.” I know that. Except, this girls wasn’t ugly. In fact, she was rather pleasant looking. Her looks intrigued people left and right . Her personality, however, was that of an inclusive and vain ho-bag. I couldn’t believe some of the things that came out of her mouth. It was like an episode of Laguna Beach was being transmitted into “Jacky’s” brain, and resulting in the form of poorly mimed hand gestures and bad impersonations. It was painful and distressing.

So, I had somehow managed to keep this human wasteland interested enough in me, that she wanted to “get together and do things, like next week, yeah?”
Me: (Gulp) Um, yeah. Alright, definitely.

Jacky: Here’s my phone, put your number into it.

Me: Oh yeah, for sure.

Jacky: Just press the buttons, it’s like a computer thing.

Me: (faking astonishment) Oh yeah! Like a keyboard!

As I starred blankly at the phone, and hated myself for being so nice, I thought, “You know what? Fuck her.” I knew what I had to do, but I had to relay niceness.

And just like that, I created a loophole of sorts, to fit my very own dilemma. I gave her all the correct digits, except for the last one. That way I don’t feel terrible about lying, even if to a crappy person, and if, for whatever reason, we do ever meet again, I can just say, “Oh, yeah, thats supposed to be a 7, not an 8.”

I’m the most commendable, asshole-prick, nice guy you will ever meet.

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.

Russian #1: Boris Yeltsin died today.

Russian # 2: I wonder how he’ll spin that.

Russian # 3 runs up to #1 and 2.

Russian # 3: Did you guys hear? Boris Yeltsin conquered death!

*It’s not funny if you have to explain it, so I won’t.