Friday, March 31, 2006

Violins, Horses, and Party Hats: A Short Story


You're out for a night on the town with your girlfriend. After a romantic dinner and soiree at a cozy european eatery, you decide to slip into the pub around the corner to grab her favorite red wine (a soft, medium bodied Merlot with a hint of sweet currant) and two wine glasses; to go. You walk arm in arm on this cold fall night; she's now sporting your dinner jacket over her sexy small black dress. Left with only your dark turtleneck and scarf, you glance down at her rosie cheeks and are content with your temporary discomfort, becuase she is warm.

As you make your way to the park on the outskirts of downtown, you spill over the unique table side entertainment that was experienced at dinner.

How the funny old man and his little violin serenade brought you out of your conversational trance and made you aware of your surroundings. You note with a wisper the irony of the situation, in that, "Aren't these sort of things supposed to be romatic? ". She snickers into her cloth napkin and trys desperatly to 'shush' you.

"Don't make me laugh!", she communicates with her eyes.

As she watches amusingly at the old man, with his grin, swaying back and forth to the melody of his own veranda, you secretly watch her. The candle light casting shadows below her soft cheek bone, outlining her jaw and accenting the the side of her nose. You follow the features of her face, from her beautiful red lips, to her elegant chin, to the cute dimple she only has on her right cheek, and then up to her bright, green eyes. You feel the corner of your lips spread upward as you exhale and take in the atmosphere. This is a good night.

Nearing the park you can still hear the distant buzz of the city, the bright lights now reduced to a soft glow. As you make your way down the cobblestone street, you see a street vendor selling roses at an outrageous price. The old woman catches sight of you and boasts, "A pretty rose for your sweetheart?" You smile and ask your girlfriend if it would be terribly cliche to buy her one, who then replies with a shy nod "no" into your shoulder.

You're at the entrance to the park now. Your girlfriend smells her rose and notes the 'Park Curfew' sign. You playfully sneak into the park being careful to stay out of the lamp posts range. You make your way to a tree that overlooks a small pond. The water glistens against the moon. All the ducks and ducklings are nowhere to be found, tucked away on this cold fall night. You sit down beneath the tree that shelters you from the wind, taking her into your lap so she won't get dirty on the ground. Both wine glasses are full now and you propose a toast. Trying not to sound too cheesy, you grin and softly say, "To us."

Just as your glasses are about to chime in agreement, a light flashes from your back rightside. It catches you in it's beam and you hear a voice. "Freeze!"

In the blink of an eye, you are both to your feet. The origin of the voice comes into view and you realize it's a mounted police officer. His horse let's out a firm nostrel breath as he walks toward you. As you turn back to your girlfriend, to your utter suprise, she is gone.

"Damnit, that bitch bailed on me!", you curse under your breathe. I can't go back to jail, her words echo in your mind. You take the wine bottle by the neck and heave it into the shadow of the horse cop. Turning to run, you hear the shattering of the bottle, but to your amazment, followed by a playful grunt and "I love the thrill of the hunt."

"WTF?!", you scream inside. Your legs pumping faster and faster across the grassy bank of the pond. "Wait a second, he's on horseback, he can't follow me into the dense brush! A sudden left takes you up the slight hill and into a collection of trees and brush. You look back to see the horse cop come to a stop at the perimeter. It looks like he may turn around. A swell of confidence and calmness comes over you.

All of a sudden, they charge your cover, dodging trees, weaving between bushes. You scramble to find a weapon of some sort before he sees you. Discovering a large log, you lift it to your shoulder and crouch behind a cut down tree. It's trunk is not wide enough to conceal you and your log, so you hoist it to the right side of the tree and freeze it in the air, trying to make it seem like it's attached. The horse cop comes to a halt where you just were, sensing your presense. The horses brain computes the image of the interesting tree trunk as the cop scans the brush. "That's not a fucking tree", the horse realizes.

Just as they approach your newfound cover, you spring into action, swinging the log like you were Barry Bonds (except without the steriods) and his head was a fast ball coming straight down the pipe. You connect and the startled horse bucks the officer from his saddle.

Recognizing the opportunity, you rush the fallen officer and stomp his face and balls interchangeably. With the officer down for the count, you seize his mystical batman-esk utility belt and take in hand his mace. As the horse turns to face you, you give him a taste of the burning liquid. You notice something you hadn't before: The horse is wearing a protective shield over his face.

FUCK. Clasping the fallen officers belt around your waist, you unholster his 9mm semi automatic pistol and empty the clip into the horses protective face shield. As you stand over the horse cop, the bottom half of the duo let's out a final "nay", and slips into eternity.

All of a sudden, the park lights are brought to life and people with funny looking hats come out from the brush with blank expressions. Party hats, you consider. With a mono tone voice, one of the people say's "Happy Anniversary", followed by a few others. You see your girlfriend now, with a look of shock on her face. She runs to the side of the fallen horse cop screaming, "Paul!"

Doesn't she have a brother named Paul?

The world spins around you as you hear the crowd murmer things like, "Asshole." and "What a douche." Feeling your surroundings closing in on you, you silently reload the gun. Sensing your mental anguish, someone yells, "He's gonna kill himself!" As they run to stop you, you cock the gun and take aim, pulling the trigger once.

Your girlfriend falls to the ground limp, with a small hole in her forhead and you shriek, "Bitch, noone plays me for a fool!"

The End

Disclaimer: This post was supposed to be about horse police and how to get away from them if you ever get in trouble, but sorta mutated in to something else as I wrote. Kinda made me feel, "WTF" afterwards, lol. Oh and I take no responsibility.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

5 Reasons Girls Shouldn't Shave Their Legs

DISCLAIMER: The following article in no way represents the authors views on women, their appearence, beliefs, morals, or their supposed "rights". (kidding!) This article is for entertainment purposes only and should be taken as such. I love you.
1. Ingrown Hairs

If you like ingrown hairs, raise your hand. I personally have never experienced the pleasure of having an ingrown hair burrowing beneath the skin on my leg, but I hear they're devine. No really, common shaving methods often hurt or irritate the hair follicle, resulting in a hair uprising. Both in the sense of growing upwards, and as in, revolting against a higher power. YOU. Consider Exhibit 1 as you ponder the topic at hand:


2. Rape

Rape is a sad thing that, believe it or not, still happens today. As they teach in the women's groups, rape can be prevented IF you are prepared. So the next time the guy in the shiny metallic short sleeve shirt starts eye balling you at your local club hot spot, just hike up your leg on the bar and give him a taste of his own medicine. Hair medicine that is. But really, what guy is going to rape you if you have more hair on your legs than he does?

In a recent poll of guys aged 18-21, a staggering 100 percent say that they would rather sleep naked in a bed with R.Kelly than to rape a girl with bear legs.

I made a bar graph of the poll results:


3. Objectifying

Strong women throughout the world (when I say 'world', I mean the USA and when I say 'strong' I mean lesbians) have fought hard (when I say 'fought', I mean held picket signs and wrote strongly worded letters) to preserve their right to choose and be independant from the evil men who are the bain of their very lives. They see a guy open a door for a lady or pay for the bill and they say "Why can't WE open doors and pay for bills? We're just as good as they are!" Women like these would argue that shaving your legs makes you more appealing to the beady eyes of men and therefore objectifying yourself.

Noone wants to be seen as a raw piece of meat do they?

4. To be Amish

Why would anyone want to be Amish you may ask? Well for one, they don't pay social security tax. That means that the clever bastards can sell all the corn and hay they want to eachother and not have to fork over any money to the government! There are also some other advantages of daily living such as:

1. NO gang warfare!
2. NO "out of network" signal!
3. NO spam mail!
4. NO guilt for rolling up their windows on pan handlers!
5. NO running water! .....wait.....

Think of everything you're missing! And once you take the simple step of becoming Amish, there will never be any temptation to shave again! (cause old man Fisher will wrap your knuckles like a catholic nun to a disruptive school boy)


5. Add spice to your relationship

You complain that you want more communication from him and he complains that he wants to see more of your wild side. Nothing will usher in an exciting night like your boyfriend thinking he's petting your dog, only to find out that it is your knee cap. It will have him asking all sorts of delicous communication filled questions, such as:

"Dude, WTF?"
"Dude, WTH?"
"Dude, WTFH?"
"Dude, WTH is going on?"

Letting the hair run a muck on your legs is a sure fire why to get your relationship up to par and into gear.

So as you can see, NOT shaving your legs will benifit your safety, abstinance, independence, wallet, and love life.

Thank you.

How To Be A Successful Gangster

DISCLAIMER: As always, the following article is in no way associated with the beliefs and morals of the author and he takes no responsibility what-so-ever, not only with this blong entry, but anything he has done, is doing, or will do in the future, past and present. Thank you.
We live in a day and age where violence is everywhere we turn. War and suffering is served as the daily digest; the direct result of good men doing nothing. Well I am here to tell you that you don't have to be a victim. No, there is a way to stand up against the tides of crime and violence and that way, is to become a gangster yourself.

That's right, if you can't beat em', join em'.

"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me." - Hunter S. Thompson

We've all seen Scarface, so we know that this theory is succesful. Tony Montana was tired of being pushed around by rich colombian scum who he should have been giving orders to in the first place, so he decided to beat them at their own game. Yes, he rose through the ranks and ended up killing his old boss and going on a coke binge, previous to being shot tens and tens of times all over his body by Isreali made 9mm automatic UZI's.

So! If we've learned anything from Tony, it's that image matters most. If people aren't afraid of you, then you're nothing. Let's take a look at a few examples of some 'do's and don'ts':

Don't pose with your handicap paraphernalia.

Barbara: "But a cane makes me look pimp!"

Negatory. A cane gives off the impression that you need it. That you are a handicap. Although handicap people are regular contributors to society, they have no place in the gangster world. How is he going to run from the po-po? What if you and your buddy are slangin' dope on a street corner one night and are suddenly caught in the headlights of a squad car? I know he claims to be of your own flesh and blood ("cuz") but he will not think twice about pushing you down and jumping fences when the going gets tough.

Do pose with drug paraphernalia.

Don't pose with cheap fruity liquors AND Don't pose in your roofing workshop.

Why? Well let's take a look at some Parrot Bay drinks:
Lesbian Lover
Dressed Up Pina Colada
Blue Midnight
Easy Creamsicle
Sweet Lollishots

Imagine Raphael hosting a shin-dig at his crib in the hood one saturday night.

Jameriquie: "Say dawg, hook me up wit some-a-dat shiet."

Raphael (gay voice): "Well what would you like? We've got some lovely spritzers! My favorite is the Easy Creamsicle, oh my gosh, it's fantastic. Very fruity and delicious!

Jameriquie would then proceed to bust a cap in his ass.

Do serve Blavod - The world's only black vodka. A personal favorite.

Don't use hand signs that may be mis-interpreted as nocturnal animals.

Who is going to take you seriously? Not me. Although, I must give them points for posing in what looks like a jail cell. However, points off for flexing in the midst of other men.

Finally, the most important part of being a gangster, your face. One must strike fear into the hearts of their enemies with one single look.

Here are some examples of a BAD, non threatening face:

See? Not scary at all.

Now, Before you read any further, I must caution you, the images you are about to see are of professional gangsters and although you can feel the intimidation oozing from your pc moniter, I must urge you to finish the article, for it may very well save your life one day.

GOOD, scary, intimidating faces:

and now, for the grand finale: Johnny Digital himself! (cover your eyes and scroll if you are under 18.)

Ok, you can look now.

Remember, a succesful gangster shows no mercy. A successful gangster is always one step ahead of his enemy. A successful gangster is a happy gangster.

Younger Girls vs. Older Guys

DISCLAIMER: If you are uptight and make it a practice to misinterpret articles on the internet as being truth and making assumptions about the author and/or his personality/morals in relation to this purely for entertainment value based journal entry, then please close this blog and return to knitting your quilt. Thank you.
In my few years of being a legal "adult" I have encountered on many occassions a problem that I feel should be addressed.

Why can't the laws be shifted so that people 21 yrs and under be able to [insert verb here]
people 15 yrs and older? Now let me clarify that for you. When I say people 21 yrs and under, I'm refering to guys. More specifically, me. When I say people 15 yrs and older, I'm refering to girls. More specifically, teeny bopper hoes. Catch my drift? Ok, now heres why I think so:

1. Everyone is doing it.

That's right, peer pressure. If everyone is doing it, then you might as well make it legal. The over crowding of jails is a very important issue in America today, especially since the news of Britney Spears coming back to music. It is then our obligation to change these laws so that the young men of our country won't have to fret about being caught and turned into someones prison bride. It is for this reason that I practice the "drop and cover" move when I'm in the shower, so that one day, if needed, I will be prepared. ("Drop the soap, cover the ass")

2. Girls WANT older guys

Putting a college guy in a highschool is like throwing raw meat into a lions den. It's like they've got a built in radar or a 7th sense.(the 6th being the ability to smell bullshit) The only thing that holds them back is the damn soccer mom law makers who think its "within their daughters best interest." They think they know us. They say that we think about sex every 5 seconds or so, well I've got news for you, we've gotta sleep sometime!

3. It's in our heratige!

If Frank Sinatra and Elvis can bang 15 & 16 year old girls then by golly so can I. Pre WWII there was no such thing as a 'teenager'. Boys were suddenly men as they climbed the mount of their 13th birthdays. Girls were now women and getting married at the age of 14. I say we return to our roots and re-capture the innocence of that era by eliminating the age limit laws.

4. It will prepare them for thier future.

Everyone knows that if you want to be good at something, you have to have a teacher. Take Yoda and Luke for example. Where would Luke be if it weren't for his master Yoda? Well he'd probley be a douche bag fairy boy with no balls going after some girl who was ugly as the previously stated imaginary balls. Wait, thats actually how the story goes. Bad example. What I'm trying to say is, is that we need to think about our young daughters futures! We want them to succeed in life don't we? We don't want them to be losers do we? No! Ok then, so we agree that dating/fooling around with older guys is necessary in their teenage development.

So! I must urge you to consider the said arguement and perhaps write a strongly worded letter to your local congressman. Thank you, thank you very much.

This article may have been based on real events. (But not likely)