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Monthly Archives: February 2013

And sometimes, Evil has the flu.

There are times that writing this blog is a tough one.

Days where coming up with a blog post idea is next to impossible.

And then there are days like this one.

I got my coffee, and right after I finished creaming and sugaring the hell out of it, my favorite small table opened up.

I got my tablet and keyboard set up, got all settled in-

And then the Evil couple sat down next to me.

Really? Is it just going to be handed to me today?

Apparently so.

I had been listening to some music on headphones, so I turned off the music and left the headphones in.

All the better to give the impression that I am minding my own business.

Isn’t that just fucking cute?

This couple has given me some of the finest blogs I have ever written, the lines so shitty, so incredibly vile and, well, Evil.

So what do they have for me today?

I didn’t have to wait long.

“You are such an asshole.”

Apparently, they stopped mid argument and decided to go for coffee.

They trade nasty comments for the next few minutes and I find out the following.

1. Mama Evill (Now living with them) and the twins have all had the flu for the past week.
2. Mr. & Mrs. Evil are convinced they are getting sick, despite the fact that they both stated that they have no symptoms.
3. Mrs. Evil is exhausted because she only slept from 1am to 6am. Mr. Evil was up every hour from Midnight on. (Do the math, he is getting less sleep.)

Right in the middle of a diatribe on the vile flavor of her coffee, Mrs Evil morphs the entire thing into a talk about Mr. Evil and his soon to be remodeled office.

He is a rather well to do doctor and, I must admit, I have no idea what his area of medicine is.

“I don’t want to face away from the window, I pay a lot for that view, I would like to enjoy it.”

Mr. Evil has a point there, rent in downtown Manhattan is ridiculous.

“You can’t face away from the door, you don’t want someone sneaking up behind you in the office.”

Do doctor’s fear ninja attacks in their offices?

“No, you are missing the fucking point!”

I am not sure why he is getting so pissed so fast, so I will have to assume that this is a continuation of an earlier argument.

When he curses, she usually buckles. But hold off before you start shedding any tears for her. She is the embodiment of evil on this planet.

However, their table is apparently a buckle free zone today.

“So set up your office like a homeless retard, obviously the respect of anyone who comes to see you is not important.”

I love this woman. She said this, then sipped her coffee, wincing at the inferior taste.

END OF PART 1

 
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Posted by on February 28, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Trey-Jo the homeless comic.

I have seen it all now.

There is nothing quite so interesting as a homeless comic.

I have been on the writing team for a sketch comedy show for the last few months and I want to join the performance cast next season.

But to do that, I need to have more time on stage.

So, I have been looking into spoken word writers venues.

However these are few and far between.

But, open mic stand up comedy is far easier to find.

So, although it is not something I was wanting to do, I am going to do stand up.

And there is a certain amount of ass-pucker factor involved.

So, I found a venue in Hollywood that does open mic.

I figured a well known comedy club would be just the place to open mic and also see some decent comedy.

That turned out to be TOTALLY wrong, but we’ll get to that.

I had a few drinks at the bar, all the better to be loud and obnoxious.

The crowd was an interesting mix of the guys that seemed like a pretty diverse cross section of humanity.

A shocking amount of the crowd reeked of pot.

And while i realize everyone may have had their Kush cards up to date, there was a certain grubbiness to them that was more than a little gross.

Sorry, call me a prude, but there is such an element of trashiness to pot.

Opinions vary.

Anyway, the guy running it was kind of a combination of the boys in the hood meets a dyslexic frat boy, hat sideways and all.

They began pulling names out of a bucket.

The first 5 guys up were an interest mix of people, but they all shared the same trait.

None of them remembered their act.

Working off of notes written on cell phones, they stumbled thru 3 minutes of act until they got the light.

The light means your time is up.

And most of them bitched about getting the light.

So much so, that one of them muttered “Fuck you” to the MC before he left the stage.

And then, the MC announced a name that sounded like “Trey-Jo”.

It might have been something else, but the MC was having a really hard time with it.

Trey-Jo was about 5’8 and in his 50s.

Scruffy was an understatement for this guy.

His beard was at that 5 day growth stage that is way beyond 5 o’clock shadow but just shy of actually being able to call it a beard.

He also smelled like pot, with an underlying odor that I only pick up on as he passed my seat on the way to the stage.

Urine and BO.

I can recognize a homeless guy quicker than most, how the hell did I miss this guy?

He cleared his throat and took a look at the audience, like he was sizing us up.

What followed was 3 minutes of the most convoluted, twisted, conspiracy laden tales that used the word “Fuck” liberally.

It was awesome.

Half of the audience just stared in total bewilderment, while the rest of us got it and laughed our asses off.

And this whole thing was free.

I was honestly disappointed when he left the stage.

It was like a crazed, demented Elvis, leaving the building.

And, sadly, when it was all over, I never got called up.

I settled my bar tab and headed out.

As I was getting into my car from my awesome parking space across the street, I saw Trey-Jo walking down the street right next to my car.

Pushing a shopping cart.

Man, do I love it when I nail the situation.

 
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Posted by on February 26, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Hugh Jackman is the new Chuck Norris

Hugh Jackman is on David Letterman tonight.

That bastard lives under a lucky star.

He plays all of these manly roles that women shit themselves over.

I friend of mine has begun texting me “Lucky Hugh” sayings.

They appear to be a lot like Chuck Norris sayings.

Here are my current favorite top 5:

1. Hugh Jackman has to move pussy out of the way to get out of the house.

2. Hugh has a tattoo on the end of his dick that says, “Next”.

3. Hugh Jackman lost his virginity in the maternity ward, shortly after birth.

4. Hugh Jackman can impregnate a woman just by thinking about it.

5. Women try to slip Hugh roofies.

Ok, so none of those are setting the world on fire, but they are at least moderately amusing.

Beside, its late and I can’t sleep.

You take your entertainment where you can find it.

A few ladies I know on FB are quite worked up over the whole “Hugh Jackman” appearance.

I am sure that many a neck massager’s batteries are being drained as we speak.

Pace yourselves, ladies, rubbing a raw spot is never pleasant and rarely worth it.

And yet, for all my sarcasm, I do like Hugh as an actor.

Why? You might ask?

Because I’m a nerd.

The man played Wolverine in the X-men movies.

He could live on that kind of karma with me for the rest of his career.

That was one of my favorite comic books growing up, and I collected a lot of them.

However, I never kept any in the kind of condition that you would be able to sell them for a tidy profit later in life.

I have a nervous habit of chewing the corners of the pages as I read.

Its a twisted combination of having been in Catholic school and basic insecurity.

The nun that ran the school library hated me with a passion.

Can’t blame her, really.

I have kicked the habit as an adult.

Mainly from being addicted to the Amazon Kindle, not from any sort of willpower on my part.

No more paper is involved.

Between caffeine and the Kindle, my addiction dance card is filled.

And if you think the Kindle does not have a certain addiction factor attached to it, you either don’t have one, or you are semi illiterate.

Either way, its my thing and, as far as addictions go, its not all that bad.

Reading is at least beneficial.

However, when you find yourself getting honked at because you missed the green light at the signal because you were reading.

But, compared to Meth or Heroin, its almost not in the category.

So, once again, my actions are golden.

I love how that works.

 
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Posted by on February 21, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

And the truth shall set you free.

I have decided to out myself self in todays blog.

For the record, I am what is known as a “Hetero Slut”.

Women are my thing, sometimes to my detriment.

Although there is a certain percentage of blog followers who would love it if I was gay.

These people fall into the category that I view as those who hate the blog.

Why do they read it if they hate it?

An excellent question that I do not have an answer for.

However, they would love to have something else on the list of reasons to hate me and the blog.

Like anything is ever that easy.

No, today I am outing my questionable behavior on Facebook.

As many of you know, I view FB as a playground, a place for me to amuse myself.

Well, I have maybe been over doing it.

Awhile back, I decided that I wanted to be able to throw out wild statements that are a little outside the norm of what I typically do.

More of a research thing.

So, I created a new Facebook account.

Lets call him Chuck, the account is still live and I don’t need the hassle.

I chose the state of Iowa because it seemed the most middle American place.

I targeted the largest high school in the state, and did some research.

I chose a time period that would be long ago enough that you would have trouble remembering people you didn’t know well and long enough that there isn’t a major reunion happening soon.

Google provided pics. I made sure that all pics had numerous similarly featured people in them, and you never know who exactly the person was.

And then all I needed was some friends.

The high school had a page.

I made several comments over the course of a week about getting in touch with old friends and such, then I sent out friend invites to as many people as I could.

Once I got a good handful of friends, I targeted their business associations and entertainment fanpages.

In a months time, Chuck was a popular guy with over 500 friends, including several guys that said they remembered me as a goofy party guy and one girl who remembered going out with me.

Time to go to work.

The first out of the ordinary question I asked was about legalizing beastiality.

I said I was not necessarily in favor of it, but I can understand how weird people get about sex and I am not here to judge.

356 comments and 12 personal messages later, I left that one alone.

I created a fake news blog site at WordPress.com and wrote about a dozen fake articles.

I frequently cited them as sources for bullshit topics.

I voiced support for the 17 year old who married his Great Grandmother.

The heart wants what the heart wants comment set a record with over 450 comments.

And not once in a 6 month period, did anyone question who I was or caught on to the charade.

Looking back, it kind of took on a life of its own.

I wrote some pretty heinous crap all in the pursuit of self amusement.

Much like a masturbating teen, I failed to realize that I had pushed things too far.

So, I decided to end it.

Chuck has been deleted and will no longer hassle middle America.

Glad I got that off of my chest.

 
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Posted by on February 19, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Escape from LA.

PART 2 of 2

Moving on, there is much to do and much to see in the fabled Fashion District of downtown LA beforewe hit the long road home.

Downtown is always a bit of a mental mind screw for the first half hour or so.

Then the pressure equalizes and all is well.

This is one of those sections of town that has never really been much of anything, it serves a purpose, just not a big one.

However, if your goal is to secure a big ass bolt of cheap cloth, you came to the right place.

It is a section of town that is a lot like the devil’s aroma therapy spa.

You never know when something will hit you that you were not expecting.

Urine is a bit of a goto, more of a default smell.

Urine, cologne, urine, cigarettes, urine, street hot dogs, urine.

And nothing stirs the appetite like the aroma of a street hot dog, heavy on the urine.

The whole combination of odifferous evil has the strangest effect on me.

It makes me have to use the bathroom.

Creating a downtown duece situation.

And of course, the first thing that comes to mind when you realize that you have to use the bathroom, is how soon?

So I gave it some thought.

I finally came to the conclusion that I had roughly 45 minutes until the crap in the on-deck circle becomes problematic.

The bolt of cheap cloth was located, paid for and carted about a half block away before I stopped.

While it was 60lbs of shiny white cloth with bright red lips on it, it was not the weight that made me stop.

It was time to get paid.

A street hot dog, wrapped in bacon, and piled with this pico de gallo crap top heavy with avacado.

It is pure heaven to taste and time bomb of what is known on the streets as “quacker shits” on a bun.

And then we are on the road back to the car.

The meth windigo is missing, no doubt explaining himself in a confused manner down at the station.

I would give anything to be there as the Asian girls pick him out of a lineup.

The bolt of cheap cloth loaded, my stomach making WTF? Sounds, and the car purring, we left down town.

The road trip is a short exciting one, but then so is falling off a cliff.

 
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Posted by on February 14, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Into the mouth of hell, rode the bitter 600.

Heading into Downtown LA is always like a frightening road trip into the bowels of hell.

Its always a toss up as to whether you will get out alive again.

I am headed to the fashion district, not for any specific need of mine, but as the hired muscle, a lackey, brought along to carry the heavy stuff.

Definitely not the glamor job I prefer.

0800 on a Saturday morning is one of the few times that you can drive on the 110 freeway and not continually mutter the word fuck while playing stop and go with the rest of LA.

Parking can be a bitch, however, at this time of the morning, it is not.

My employer for this trip has a favored parking garage in the middle of the area that is always empty at this hour of the morning.

Let me get the following sequence of events straight.

As we were pulling into the third floor parking lot, the three Asian girls were just leaving their car and walking back towards where we had just entered, headed for the elevators.

We parked, then began walking back towards the same elevators.

We were halfway across the lot when the girls ran shrieking out from the small elevator lobby.

When you see people, even flighty Asian girls, running and screaming, there is always a little voice in the back of your head that says “Hey, I wonder what they’re running from?”

The little voice didn’t have to wait very long for an answer.

The girls were a third of the way down the entry ramp when HE came out.

I usually nickname people, especially the homeless, that I write about.

But I am kind of coming up snake eyes here.

So a description will have to do.

His skin is grubby white and his hair is a spikey reddish blonde.

He bares a striking resemblance to the heat miser.

And if you have no clue who that is, Google it, choose video and watch it.

In a direct move in the direction of pushing it, we chose to use the elevator.

Surely he’ll like us, right?

Maybe he has a thing about Asians.

As we passed the homeless guy and got on the elevator, we passed within a few feet of him.

This poor fucker was in some sad shape.

I have mentioned the elite homeless in Manhattan Beach, the stellar homeless of Hollywood Blvd.

These people had serious game and were working the biggest stages in the homeless arena.

But Downtown? This is where you go when you got nowhere else to go.

Not a lot of spare change to be had in Downtown.

I have never seen a man with such wildly bloodshot eyes.

I am not sure what drug does that to your eyes, but this guy needs to lay off of it, for Pete’s sake.

At this point, the heavy urine smell is almost endearing.

It was a lot like going to the zoo and getting close to the lion cage, but without the bars, you never know when the lion might attack you.

The lion in this case being a urine smelling, red eyed, meth windigo.

They are so majestic, those homeless in the mist.

PART ONE

 
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Posted by on February 12, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

A simple act of defiance.

Anticipation can kill you.

And I am not talking about the kind of anticipation like you’re waiting for the ketchup to come out of the bottle.

I am talking about the kind of anticipation that you may piss yourself if something doesn’t happen soon!

Sitting in front of me is the Evil Couple.

(Recap for newcomers: This Couple is the worst couple since people started dating. The absolutely nasty shit she has pulled on her husband, people around her, and even me on one occasion. He can turn on her like a mistreated pitbull, vicious and without warning. They are married, got two twin boys, and her evil mama just started living with them a short while ago. There, all caught up)

Normally, when I run into the Evil couple, I am elated.

Because there is always a new story when I do.

Except for today.

They aren’t doing anything.

And thats boring.

So, I am waiting, hiding out in the modern coffee shop equivalent of a duck blind, the big table at Starbucks.

They are across the room, no seats nearby, and I suck at lip reading.

So I have to guess.

You may think this is a little rude and intrusive, focussing on these poor people like I do.

You must be new.

They are the reason this blog exists.

I started this little place to blog about them.

They are the “Founders of the feast” as it were.

Their body language is tense.

Lots of snippy seeming replies and interrupting.

And this is all guesswork.

I am on the verge of shitting myself in frustration.

However, Starbucks frowns on public defecating in the main room.

Not that I have ever done so, but I’ve heard.

However, I was here the day that a homeless guy I call Fernando was arrested for pissing on the front window.

It wasn’t just a case of him randomly dropping trough and peeing, it was done in protest.

Apparently, just before I got there, Fernando had been asked to leave.

He had bought a small coffee and sat in at one of the small round tables.

This is the homeless equivalent of paying chair rent.

This means that he gets to sit there for awhile because he bought something.

Except that he began talking to himself.

And evidently, he has a potty mouth.

So, the non-manager asked him to leave.

I say non-manager because the management style of the current manager is amusing, to say the least.

He dislikes confrontation, so anything he makes a decision on, is blamed on “My manager”.

“My manager says you have to leave”

“My manager called the police.”

“I would do that, but my manager would fire me. No, he’s not here.”

I have always that that was hysterical.

Anyway, back to Fernando pissing on the front window.

I had gotten there just as Fernando was leaving.

The police had just pulled up and parked about 5 spaces down, and were walking up.

And this was when Fernando, in epic homeless fashion, knocked it out of the park.

He stood up on the brick porch out front, stared thru the glass at the Non-manager, and peed.

As far as acts of defiance go, this one was pretty epic.

It was awesome.

 
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Posted by on February 7, 2013 in Uncategorized