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Just as good as a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Wednesdays never seemed so sweet, I wonder if they're gay...

When I looked really closely at a duck near work I felt something. I’m not Buddhist, nor do I believe in reincarnation (fully, part of me wants to hope I can come back and do it again if I’ve been a good boy) but when I looked in his eyes I felt him saying “F*ck you, why am I a duck?” Then he swam off to the other side of the pond.

Why did Looney Tunes make the idea of slapping people so appealing? It doesn’t matter who I’m talking to (except my girlfriend… wink) I would find it incredibly amusing to slap them back to the moment they first burst from the womb mid-sentence. Of course I’ll give you an example:
(a man is at a urinal when another man approaches the urinal beside him)
1: Hey Peter.
2: (Good Morning) Dan.
1: Say, did you see the new intern?
2: Oh, she was dynamite!
1: Pow! Right?

Whew, now where were we? Ah, nowhere. Moving right along then (oh that reminds me to watch the Muppet Movie next chance I get).

Yesterday I sat down and watched Loaded on FUSE. How long does it take for people to get over beating a young pop singer until she is damn near unrecognizable? The answer: 107 days. The Grammy’s were February 08, 2009.

Squidish Love Pocket, there I’m glad I’ve got that out of my system.

Terminator Salvation kicked more ass than the Asskickatron 9000, which was built by the finest asskickphysicians, designed for style. Just remember it’s the Terminator. People keep talking to me about it like they went in expecting Pride and Prejudice and were bombarded with explosions and testosterone. Go expecting to pay more than you should to sit in an unsanitized seat. Plan on buying a soda but get the Icee because that is liquid crack. Get some nachos because you’re cheap and don’t want to experiment on the pizzas that AMC is now selling for some d*ck suck worthy price. Go grab a seat by some fat man and your good buddy ____. You’ll see some good previews, some that make you smile and whisper “I think the fat man next to me passed gas… but that trailer looks good too.” Other trailers will make you soft. And by the time the credits roll you’ll be holding a fist full o’ big black nuts wondering why you didn’t go to the bathroom during the movie. You’ll know why, because if you moved you might have missed a stern face, a Christian Bale superstar close-up or a boob… there were no boobs for those that will purchase a ticket to see one. Side note: Will Nelson and I peed, a man came up behind him and didn’t wait for him to be finished before he unbuckled and began to “unsheathe his sword.” The look on Nelson’s face was priceless, the look on mine… satisfaction. Damn that was a good movie.

Earlier this morning I had a discussion, I’d forgotten how compassionate women can be so the conversation was cut off at the knees. Rather than go on a tangent forever I’ll just leave you with a thought: I little girl has just died from a tragic accident. You are the doctor who has the task of telling her family that she is gone. Before you head out the door you glance at the name… Exodus Tyson. You look out the door and see that Mike Tyson is awaiting the news. How much do you $#!T yourself? I would personally rather wrestle with a Tiger. Nuff’ said.

It was a shorty (blog-wise) type day. Hopefully I’ll have more stuff and Lord knows I kinda feel like performing this week(gasp, I better write a joke or two).


Tuesday, May 26, 2009

An Interview with a vampire...

Let me start by saying that I appreciate the folks searching Tyler Richardson blog or whatever is getting you here now that I’m no longer on the blog roll list-a-majig on DCStandup.com (see, I still show him love… I’m growing up). Now let’s get to a much needed dose of insanity that we’ve so sorely lacked the past week shall we? An interview with a vampire… name Rudolph.

Interviewer: Hello, may we start the interview with your name?
Vampire: My name is Rudolph…Rudolph Hidalgo… it’s popular among Bulgarian whores. And that is what my mother did. She was a mistress of the night. My name is Rudolph.
Interview: Umm… mkay. Rudolph…
R: Hidalgo.
I: Would you prefer I said the whole thing together.
R: No.
I: M’kay… well…
R: I hunger.
I: I don’t know what to say to that, I have Subway in my bag but I don’t you like the chicken parm.
R: Too sweet.
I: You’ve tried it?
R: No, but I trust everything Hell’s Kitchen has ever said. Reality television makes me ooze.
I: I’d love to get to my first question, not to interrupt.
R: But you did.
I: …
R.: The question, give it to me.
I: How old are you?
R: When George Washington went off to fight in your war, I dusted off his wife’s pu-nay-nay.
I: Oh.
R: Do you know what I mean? Some call it pudding. I’ve even heard it referred to as muff or clam.
I: I think we’re on the same page.
R: Squidish love pocket. That’s my favorite.
I: … I don’t think I’ve ever heard it called that before.
R: I’m 517 years old on May 15, 2001.
I: So, you’re 525.
R: I love the foreplay of mathematics.
I: Is it warmer in this room than you thought it would be? I’m boiling, and please take no offense, but I’m not taking off any layers with a vampire in the room.
R: No offense could be taken from a Jew.
I: Wow.
R: What, did I touch a nerve?
I: That anti-semite remark just came out of nowhere and caught me off guard. You, of course know that I’m not Jewish....
R: Really?… well that curlish man-fro you’ve got there and the stink of Auschwitz all over you... I was fooled.
I: My God…
R: Why don’t you ask me something unexpected?
I: Okay, when is the last time you wept?
R: Yesterday.
I: Care to tell me why?
R: First give me a food that you would compare to the taste of your lover’s crotch… like say a pomegranate?
I: That’s personal.
R: Well so is why I wept.
I: That’s fair…
R: I saw a white man with a black woman.
I: I’m sorry, what?
R: I saw a white man with a black woman and all I could think was “He don’t even know what to do wit all dat. Let a real n*gga have a taste.”
I: You’re white.
R: I know.
I: *cough* This is weird, so let me just wrap this whole thing up…
R: Consider it wrapped.
I: Even that was weird.
R: No weirder than watching me make love.
I: M’kay, well… would you say that the life of a vampire is a lonely endless walk through time, completely lacking any real emotional contact?
R: Or?
I: Or nothing, I just wanted to take a shot there. My wife is black.
R: Oh, may I see a picture?
I: I don’t think so. I feel like I should just go. Is that alright?
R: Of course; Before you leave, would you mind helping me move this cabinet. Without friends tasks like these are a bit difficult.
I: Okay… (after moving) I hate to ruin my chances but are you really going to let me go? You’ve been pretty awkward and everything in my tingles of rape…
R: I don’t eat Jews Adam.
I: I’m not Jewish… hey, I never told you my name…
R: Didn’t need to, I’ve been around long enough to do some homework before welcoming you into my home. To be honest I had every intention of sucking the life out of you up until 2 PM this after noon.
I: What happened then? I was still at work.
R: You didn’t wash your hands after you clearly spilled urine on them. That’s just gross Adam, that’s just gross. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to burn the chair you sat in.


Well, until tomorrow’s blog (I promise) I’ve gotta run. I don’t know why but I have “I Want You Back” by NSYNC stuck in my head.


Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Real friends pack extra ruffies...

*Friday’s Posting will start, then we’ll finish with today’s because I’m lazy and you deserve it.*

It could be due to how tired I am right now, but for some reason I really to get a piggyback ride for the rest of the day. “Sherman, I’m hungry… to Chicago.” For those with an active imagination, don’t picture Sherman as a huge man. Instead, picture a man half my size, because it tickles me. Very similar to how sometimes I’ll try to Boogie board on my dog Max, who is all of 9 lbs.

Mission Accomplished: My woman said “Boo Butter.” And, it felt… phenomenal.

I believe that someday time travel will be possible. How else would someone know they could actually make money by selling products such as “Tic Tac Toss, Hungry Hungry Hippos, Don’t Wake Daddy and THE Slip and Slide”?

Dear SonicBids,

You almost made me cry yesterday because you wouldn’t let me upload a video of me doing the Macarena. Good news though, I found a way and the new Internet sensation will be born. Black guy does other people’s dances is coming at ya. Next week: The Charleston.

Tomato soup is nothing more than a bowl of the devil’s tears.

After watching (a day late, but I kept to myself yesterday) the LOST two hour season finale last night I went outside and picked up the biggest rock I could. I was so overcome with excitement that I bludgeoned the first person I saw to death. It was that f***ing good!

There may not be anything about rape (giggity) but there is plenty of humor in watching someone with a baby in there hands fall. It’s just funny…

Listening to A Milli always make me hate being at work. I’m not sure what correlation they have with each other but I feel like it’s because it makes me want to dance… and get violent.

While talking about ethics “and things” with Sean Paul yesterday, we concluded that All That was a terrible show. Speaking of Mr. Ellis, his show is tonight at 7:45 tonight at the Comedy Spot… be there or be dead.

*Fast Forward to Tuesday, May 19, 2009 aka Malcolm X’s birthday*

Today I turned 26, and now that it’s a reality I don’t mind getting over the “20 something” halfway marker. Here’s to the next year…

Jack Bauer kicked so much ass on last night's 24 season finale it hurts to $#!T. Bless you Keifer Sutherland, the video of you trying to stop that Christmas tree from attacking Brooke Shields still makes me laugh. But if you say I need to attack a bear with you, then a bear is catching a foot to the nads. 143 Keifer, 143...

I really don’t have much today… just happy. Thanks to everyone that wished a happy b-day and tomorrow I will try to have something worthwhile to speak of.


Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Nah son, that's my condom, see the skin in it?

It’s Wednesday, we’re halfway through the week so let’s start with a list of random things that make me laugh:

The Blue Oyster Bar song from Police Academy. When the trumpet first hits and the cadet looks into the eyes and mustache of the biker he’s dancing with… well, you can feel the love tonight.

Dirty Dancing; I grind my hips against my mother more when I kiss her good-bye. That ain’t dirty. But oh Patrick Swayze, you’ve still got it… cancer and all, you’ve got rhythm.

This quote from The Ringer (you know the Johnny Knoxville movie) “Do it again and you'll be admiring my butt from the pavement with a straw.” I bought that movie on Sunday afternoon just because of that quote.

Yesterday at lunch my friend Christian and I went back and forth on whether a man (who is CLEARLY GAY) is gay or not. Every time I made a point Christian would point out that he did something or wore something just like what I was pointing out. The more flamboyant my examples the harder I laughed when he was like “I’m sitting with my ankles crossed right now… I put a fork up just like that… I have glasses that look like that too!” He is a big dude but I couldn’t help laughing in his face.

Sounds like the woman next to me isn’t covering her mouth when she sneezes… oops, there’s nothing funny about that, sigh. SWINE.

When Jared goes to heaven, do you think he can stop shamelessly plugging Subway? Honestly, I feel like the afterlife clause is in the fine print… J

While getting breakfast I got to use any angry black man phrase. A Latina began describing something to me and I was completely confused about why she was talking to me. She was a stranger. Then she smiles and says “Oh sorry, I meant him.” When I turned it was a man named Geoffrey (pronounced G-off-ri)… this man looks nothing like me. About 4 minutes later she smiled and apologized because of the mix-up. I casually said “It’s cool I understand, we’re both black.” Then I walked away without a smile or attitude, as though I had just told her the time “It’s 4:15.” It felt f***ing sweet. I think I may have just looked like a dick to everyone around me though… oh well.

The word “Marmalade”.

Karate Jesus… nuff said.

Singing the Gummi Bears theme song as a 25 (OMG I’m 26 next Tuesday) year old man.

This was a shorty, but perhaps tomorrow there will be something of substance… probably not though.


Monday, May 11, 2009

It was a fun weekend...

Well, what can I say about the weekend that isn’t summed up by the photo above. Courtney brought the funny, and was black. I tried not to ruin the flow of the evening… and was also black. Eric Schwartz was really cool and I always respect someone that can kill and stay clean… and he was bald. Thought I was going to say something else didn’t you? I’m as unpredictable as a Chipotle $#!T.

Today I was making a joke to a couple of friends about a dead co-worker’s fiancĂ©… I’ll spare the details but it was hilarious (oh, my soul hurts). Anyway, we came around a corner on the complete opposite side of the building and were face to face with said co-worker… everyone stopped laughing and that was a dead give away. I’m not proud of everything I do and say, but I can’t change who I am. Love me…

I’ve had that Sinead O’Connor song “Nothing compares to you” stuck in my head for the better part of 48 hours. So this is what hell is like, damn these… (what are they called again? Oh yeah) emotions.

I’m happy to announce that my system is completely clean of any badness (use your imagination… and no, I’m not on crack, sadly that was my mother’s first guess when I was 19). I’m running for mayor…

Dear Murray’s Hair Grease person,

My name is Tyler Richardson and would like to take a moment of your time. First, let me say “thank you.” It was not until I met a man whose waves made me so jealous I had to sit him down and pluck his brain (and waves) to find out how I could be beautiful too that I knew you’re sweet touch. But, once I’d lathered up my palms full of your sweet nectar, I knew that I’d never use Sportin’ Waves again. Before your hair gel I was 5’1, 98 lbs. and had never kissed a woman. Now that I am beautiful and “silky smooth”( – The Zohan) I’m 7’3, 875 lbs. and get so much p*ssy even my mother calls me “Mo B*tches.” I have you to thank for that. I was being mugged the other night and when they stuck the gun in my back I spun around and grease flew of my waves and blinded the would-be thugs. I kept my favorite wallet full of my nice credit cards and that hooligan will never see again, at least according to the doctors. Plus, I kicked the $#!T out of his nuts for pointing a gun at me, you know I keep it real gangsta. Anyway, I don’t wanna pole jock too hard or nuffin’, see how my slang has improved thanks to your grease, so I’m a bounce. Thanks again, and stop snitchin’. One

Gangsta Jesus… Nelson’s going to draw it and I’m going to wear the shirt because the image is too hilarious for me to describe. Remember, God created humor… he’s got one too.

For any readers with T-Mobile, do not buy their Equipment Protection Plan. After many conversations and wasted energy I found out that even though I’ve paid for that for the past four years… it is in fact wallet rape. They took my money with a promise to love me. Then when I told them my phone is acting funny, they give me the run around with talk of a “claim” and wanted me to install my own trackball (for those without a BlackBerry, it’s important). Now I know how an innocent young woman feels when she goes out with a sweet guy who turns into Chester the Molester. T-Mobile asked me kindly to open my wallet, and when I did, they placed their penis in it and starting ramming without a care. They didn’t care how much it hurt, that I needed lube or that I have a new boyfriend named AT&T who is going to treat me a lot better shortly. And what really hurts is that I loved them. T-Mobile, you broke my heart. I’m going to get my new boyfriend to slit your tires.

Atif, I’m excited that you finally have Gears 2, sorry I got so busy this weekend. But perhaps tonight after I see my babycakes or tomorrow night where I finally get to come straight home and chillax I can give you a tour. Practice up Atif, we go to war… and in war there is no such thing as a condom. That doesn’t make sense, but you know what I mean… it’s gonna be fun.

When I took my momula (mother) and grannyikens (grandma) out to a Japanese steakhouse I felt good. I greeted them with roses and got big hugs and kisses. How did my mother repay me? After I said “Order whatever you like” I proceeded to get the most expensive meal in the joint. When the chef (I hope that’s what we call the men who entertain, it’d be weird to call them a fry cook) put my first piece of LOBSTER on my plate my mother came quickly for it with a fork. Bare in mind that she too could’ve had the lobster if she chose. I controlled my selfish ways, cause she of all people knows that eating off my plate is outlawed. But then she turned to my 13 year-old-non pregnant sister who for some reason was at our Mother’s Day dinner, and said “Mmm, you have got to try some of this lobster.” I don’t recall exactly what I whispered, but let’s say it had the same effect as me standing on the table and urinating over my food to show territory. No more forks came round my plate on that night. Sorry to be so vulgar, but the lobster was good, and she ate it. Sigh, the life of a selfish man is no easy one.

Poop… there, I said it. It’s still funny to me.

Hey Huntsville, AL: 1 year, I still feel like I could pick up the phone and call him. Weird, that’s really all that I can say. I still think about him all the time though. I look at his cell phone number every time I get ready to call my grandma. I’m glad you still read, it reminds me of him the same way reading might remind you.

Alright everyone, I’m going to get some work done.


Friday, May 08, 2009

The man, the myth... Atif?

Arlington Cinema N’ Drafthouse this Friday and Saturday at 9:45 PM! With Courtney Fearrington, Tyler Richardson and headliner Eric Schwartz! It’s gonna be fun, treat yourself…

And with that plug for the weekend, let’s get to the nitty grit. The story of Atif Myers, or “The Beast-Man Cometh”

In a time before jeans, when men roamed the earth with nothing but a mane of pubic hair to keep their legs warm, there was a man. Some said this man wrestled a cheetah to the ground, others insist it was a newborn cheetah cub that was still blind from infancy. One thing was for certain, there were cheetah drumlets for dinner once he’d laid the beast down. Who was this creature-man? To explain him we must peek through the beard of Zeus and tip toe past the childlike smile that whispers “Cinnamon.” Let me tell you how I came to know, befriend and ultimately encase in Carbonate… Atif Myers. I was walking through “the town” and was accosted by some hooligans set to make trouble. I was surrounded and without money, this meant an execution. As the circled swinging various sharp things I heard the battle cry that still rings out like thunder in my memory “No, you black son of a b*tch!” On the biggest mutant chicken I’d ever seen was a man whose beard completely clothed him. This was a hot day and the dew made it glisten so. He looked me in the eye and then pulled out a gigantic gun and starting pumping round after round into those evil doers eyes and faces. With each shot he laughed harder and harder, oh how his beard shook. I was of course soaked in urination because he didn’t appear to aim, just fire madly with his eyes closing from the laughter. But only one shot caught me in the genitals. Don’t worry, I’ve got the other one, I’m good. After he’d sent them back to “rapequarters”, which I’m pretty sure was his version of hell, he invited me to come ride the mutant chicken and he’d drop me off where it was safe. But I had no home, I would be safer to stay with him… and his big ass gun. He never seemed to eat, I only saw him chew the ends of his beard and stare angrily towards the sun. He told me that the sun taunted him and called him names. He used to swear at it for hours on end and try to throw things at it. I chalked most of that up to dementia from the heat. With a beard like that he must have been in a 130 room at all times. That will make you go crazy. But he saved my life, I’d be sane enough for the both of us. After a few months he told me he wasn’t black. He’d said the “N” word so much that I just assumed he was, after that news I asked him to refrain from using it unless the rap lyrics specifically asked for it. He agreed, and shot his own leg to say he was sorry. Atif never changed clothes, and to be honest I’m not sure if he ever had clothes on in that beard bubble. I thought I saw a sleeve to shirt, but then he pulled on it and it was a ribbon from somebody’s Christmas. There was no telling when it made it’s way into the beard, or how long it had been trying to work it’s way out. Since he was not Christian he pulled it out and stepped on it. But when he did the dance of pivoting on the balls of his feet to laugh at stepping on it, something happened. I saw a tear from the beard… I mean his eye. He was sorry; that was the day I realized there was something else under that beard… a heart. The only time I heard him lie when was I told him about my old Duck Hunt score and he said “Oh… oh yeah, well… I got a perfect score in Duck Hunt the first time I ever played it.” That’s impossible, but I still respected him. He was my hero. Why did I betray him you be asking… well, as with all great stories it was out of fear. Because of his great accomplishments I feared that one day he might destroy the world, he certainly had the power to do so in just his left nipple. So one morning while sharpening his nipples with an arrow I came from behind and blew his brains straight through his skull. I was heartbroken about killing my idol. I cooked up a good steak and took a walk while his body chilled in my freezer. There was only one solution, I gathered up all the bits of brain and skull and put them back in his skull. Oh, I threw up quite a bit that day, especially when the bowels released. But after all the gizzards and “what not” were back in, I sewed that b*tch back up and he was almost good as new. To this day there is no way to bring a corpse back to like but that is the day he’ll open his eyes and escape from “rapequarters.” I hope that when they bring that Frankenstein monster of a man back to life I can look him in the eyes and whisper “you did this to you.” Then blow my brains out all over him and embrace Satan in the long semen soaked clench of death.

Whew, that took a morbid turn huh? No matter, Atif now I don’t feel sorry anymore. I want a story like that to be whittled onto my grave someday. You’re welcome.

Everyone have a great freakend and if I don’t see you… I’ll see you.


Thursday, May 07, 2009

Tonight, Drafthouse. This Weekend... Drafthouse. A full weekend's supply of vitamin TRich!

It’s no ordinary Hersday (Thursday for those uninitiated), because today is the anniversary of my fight with the legendary red goat. Many of you have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about, allow me to explain. There is was in the middle of a good jerk (what, am I the only one that saves the load for Thursdays?) and I heard a commotion outside my window. Ordinarily when I hear the children outside fighting or just being hoodlums I turn up the volume on my snuff tape so I can stay in the mood. But on this day I decided to take a peek out the window. Their childlike screams were too loud to ignore and a woman’s moan interrupted by the screams of children makes me soft… what, I don’t get turned on by kids, do you? Anyway, I noticed several of them being worn as a belt by the most awesome beast I’d ever laid my eyes on… the red goat. He stood on two legs and was easily 5’2, which is about how tall they should be standing up but I was in awe of his balance. He wasn’t actually red, the name is deceptive, but his scrotum shined redder than the devil’s d*ck. He belted those children with his mighty hooves, at first I found it funny, and then I noticed he was erect. That’s where I draw the line. No boy hungry pedophile, man or beast, would come into my neighborhood without properly registering under the sex offender registry. I grabbed my Timberland's, because I was gonna kick the $#!T out of that goat. Then I remembered I don’t want to get $#!T on my boots and switched to Nikes. Going out the door I prayed to the wolf because his word is true and he would guide my fist even truer. Plus God isn’t a huge fan of violence despite what the people caught in the Holy Wars would have you believe so the Wolf is my back up. Praise be to the Wolf… anyway. When I came out side he instantly knew that I was there to stand and fight. Not for the children, and not for honor but because he ruined on of my favorite clips on YouPorn. How dare he! There were no words spoken, he was a goat, and I don’t talk to animals. When I charged at him my heart was racing and I launched myself into the air to Liu Kang kick his f*cking heart out. It wasn’t until I got about six inches away from connecting that I saw the look in his eyes… confusion. This goat was lost and scared, I’d stepped into a fight with a child… metaphorically. When the foot connected with his chest it felt like stepped on a baby turtle, crunches and snaps. I wish I could say that I let him crawl away to the forest, or wherever goats come from, and tell the animals of the might black warrior that jerks it. But when I felt the crunches within his chest from my foot I got mad with power. I was high, high on dominance. I beat that son a b*tch goat half to death, then put another quarter of ass whooping on him so he was only about a breath away from satan’s sweet caress. I stood over this beaten and scared goat with a red scrotum and felt pity. Then I grabbed the closest chubby kid and sat him on the goat’s face, for smothercation (oh, I like that word, don’t you). That was a year ago, I was a different man, now I realize there is nothing right about taking another man… I mean goat’s life. Every time I see a baby goat, and you’d be surprised how often that happens… I give it money. I don’t know which one might be his child. But I’ll tell you this, if I had it to do all over again… I would’ve worn my Timberlands. Cause I got in that goat’s ass. Happy Anniversary to me! The End.

Tomorrow I will provide a revision of Atif’s early years. Since his father looked it up I’d hate for him to think I disrespected his son by pretending a man had his way with him. So tomorrow, though still told in classic TRich fashion, we will revisit the Atif Myers story. For those that feel like it may be a Meg episode of Family Guy I say “No.” More like a Quagmire episode. We’ll get there tomorrow. Moving on…

What makes a man? How tightly his pants outline his doodle. You’re welcome.

A year ago I laughed at the thought of going back to school, yesterday I received an “A” on a research paper I’m proud to have written (last minute, but that’s of no importance). Time flies…

The last few days of rain have been great, I’m sorry to see them go. Nothing funny there, I just like rain.

A long time ago I meant to start taking pictures with random old people just to look back and laugh. I haven’t and I’m ashamed of myself. This weekend I’m getting some old pics with the elderly at the Drafthouse shows. Also, since my lady friend looks white and approachable I feel like she’ll be able to help me get them to take the picture. They might just think I’m out to rob them. The true conquest for pictures this weekend will be if I can get one to look like we’re doing the dance from House Party. I think I can pull that off, don’t you?

Eating a Twix, King Size, mmm. Be jealous.

I just realized exactly how many people I called a friend a year ago that are no longer part of my life. Jesus, I must really have some social disorder. Mmm, Twix… sorry, it’s hard to concentrate on myself with all this caramel. How selfish of me, let’s talk more about this Twix bar. The word nugget (nu-get) may always make me laugh, I hope to be a crazy old man staring at a Mars bar laughing in a corner. Ah, to dream…

Where is Sisqo? Even though a lot of you may have been wishing for it, I feel like he isn’t dead… yet.

I could not believe what Chris Hayes “predicted” in HIS competition. I’m not going to talk $#!T but Jesus, that was unnecessary. Part of me feels like I made statements like that when I first started this blog and I’m deeply ashamed of myself. Sometimes I go back and look at the first (extremely bitter, probably cause I just wasn’t as funny as I thought I was) blogs and I wince at what I would say. That’s the nicest thing I can say after reading what he had to say. Ugg, shame on you.

I’m gonna work a little bit before I go eat lunch with a very beautiful woman (I’m looking at you beautiful, stanks!). We’ll pick up tomorrow with journeys through the life of “the beard” Atif.


Tuesday, May 05, 2009

"Good, you've found someone special... now dance blog monkey!"

Let’s have some fun shall we?

Perhaps women just really like the smell of certain colognes, but men do not accept that as an answer. If a woman turn to a man and says “Mmm, what cologne is that you have on?” she just came onto him. In her mind it was a perfectly good question, maybe she wants to remember it; maybe she wants to buy it for her significant other. To the man who was asked the question it sounded more like “Mmm, impregnate me.” Of course there are many other scenarios where we mistake something innocent for being hit on, such as: Touching my arm (or any part of the body for that matter), waving, smiling, looking in my direction, eye contact, friendship, laughing at my jokes, sharing anything in common, politeness, having a boyfriend and still speaking with us and the dreaded saying “hello.”

With that said, another woman asked me what cologne I had on today while we got off the elevator. My response: “Prada, now stop nose raping me, I’m taken.”
Apparently there is an MMA fighter that has all of his limbs cut off before the joints. To watch him fight is supposed to be hilarious, and surprisingly he wins fights. Without giving it much thought, I knew immediately he could beat me in a fight. I would throw up uncontrollably once one of those nubs touched me. Especially if it touched me on my face… ugh.

I just recalled that mother called me last week to speak about my 13 year old sister’s recently watched videos on her computer. She insisted my sister was “curious” and started listing titles and stars such as “Brianna Banks.” It wasn’t until she got to that name that I believed my sister was watching porn. I’m very familiar with the name Brianna Banks… a little too familiar. Then, after I’d already swallowed the idea that my baby sister (who I used to dance with during Muppet Treasure Island, ah to be young) was tainted, Mom says “And, that’s the biggest penis I’ve ever seen in my life.” Classic.

What is the only difference between men and women that matters? A Johnson… thank you.

Reptiles don’t ask for permission, they just interrupt slow dances with your date at the prom. That is why they are not allowed in most formal dances.

The image of a bunch of old men playing GRUNDLE SOCCER keeps running through my mind. I don’t know why its so funny to me, maybe its all of that old skin dangling… I picture it a bunch of old men naked from the waist down and circling on particularly dangle-ish man with a grundle that knots when it hits the ground. He follows not to far behind whoever is handling “the ball” and they’re all wearing Pumas. What a game, what a nightmare.

What the hell happened to Nell Carter from Gimme a break?

On Sunday Nelson, my friend Josh and I were in Costco. We saw a sign that said a man named Fred something donated $150 to the Children’s Foundation (that might be missing a word but you know the balloon with red and yellow on it). I thought, aloud, “Where the f*ck was I when that guy felt like throwing away $150 dollars?! I would give him a piggy back around the city… for a few hours, for $150!” My eyes met with the old black cashier that lacked a sense of humor since the gym teacher tasted her sweaty shorts. She was not amused, I threw out “Please forgive me, I was raised uncaring, that seems like a waste of money and all he got was a balloon showing what a stupid thing he did with $150.” She responded, “The only person you need to apologize to is…” Instead of finishing the sentence, she pointed slowly upwards, to the heavens. What a b-word, but you know what, I bet somewhere her gym coach still laughs while holding 50 year old gym shorts. Thinking about how not only do the shorts have sweat residue, but her spirit, and all the laughter throughout her life that went along with it. Good on you gym teacher, good on you.

How is it someone can ask a question you know the answer to and still make you panic? My girl asked what color her eyes were, I know they’re brown. After I answered she got busy and didn’t give the mental high five that I was anticipating. I was freaking out, $#!T, I still am cause she still hasn’t let me know I was right. Please God, if I was wrong change her eye color with a bolt of lightning or something so I can save face.

Dear Wolf, if God decides he’s not going to help me out like I just asked for could you step in. I know it’s been awhile but I still buy three bananas a day, spunk in them, and put them back for strangers to just pick up. Praise be to the Wolf. Oh, and thanks for all of the rain lately.

Mmmkay, I’m going to finish my surfing (world wide web) and for those that do not know the sweet kiss of http://www.latinoreview.com/ step into the 21st century. You sicken me. They just reviewed Star Trek (B+, C), hopefully I’ll find time to form an opinion of my own.


Monday, May 04, 2009

Arlington Cinema N' Drafthouse, May 8th and 9th, it's gonna be fun...

Okay, so Ricky Hatton lost… black son of a b*tch. I want my money back. How does he call himself a professional? If I was a jerk off champ (for the sake of the argument) and I came out and literally "came out" in the first jerk or two I'd be finished. That's all I'm saying. Boo this man! F'n Boo Butter.

Come out to the Arlington Cinema N’ Drafthouse this weekend to see headliner Eric Schwartz! I believe I know the feature this weekend, he’s a black guy…me. The shows start at 9:45 PM Friday and Saturday, be there, be sexy.

Real blogging goodness tomorrow. I'm going to have lunch with my Sweet... Peaces.

Friday, May 01, 2009

And I don't know who you are, but your fly is down, wear underwear tomorrow...

Observe and Report was hilarious, see it and smack anyone who mentions Paul Blart: Mall Cop in the face. The movie first line is “Hey B^tch!” as a streaker unleashes the beast in a parking lot. Before moving on to the next scene we see him run from person to person (about 7) with a different line. My personal favorite was “Touch daddy’s d*ck!” Classic…

When I die I want my face cut off and made into a mask. Atif, are you there? I want you to wear my mask and distract the collections agencies so my future family can run to Alaska… where credit doesn’t exist. It's absolutely... Boo Butter.

Hunstville (DeAnn), it’s been about a year now, feels weird. I still look at my Grandpa’s cell phone number in my phone whenever I’m calling my grandmother. On the lighter side, every time “I’m alone” I pray he’s got better things to look at. Maybe he’s busy checking in on you. God I hope so.

Being fixated on someone and being on heroine must be a lot alike. My mind keeps drifting but even after I get pissed and try to focus I come back to them and smile. And I’ve started ignoring texts and calls from women (like Babygirl, remember her?). Oh God, I’m still smiling… AH!!!! Boo Butter.

If case anyone doesn’t know, apparently the restaurant next to Rock Bottom (ground floor of Ballston Commons Mall) turns into a mini club at night. I saw a lot of rhythm-less white folk shake a tail feather. Right before I got up to show them what dance moves really look like, I pulled something. Next time white folk, next time…

Terminator: Salvation looks more and more money with every preview. I never thought that would be the movie I was most excited to see this summer but… damn. How do you do it Christian Bale? How do you do it?

What is a good friend? A friend that you tell about your obsession with Pauly Shore movies. A friend that listens and doesn’t judge you for your cravings for the Wea...sel. Then calls you out of the blue to say that he got you a gig hosting for him. You didn’t ask, he just cared and did what a good friend does. I was unable to make it, but damn Jessie Thomas is a good friend to me. I was really f’n touched, seriously, and I hope one day I can show him the same type of friendship. Until then, I’m just waiting for my turn. I wish everyone could have friends like this, we all deserve them.

I have a meeting shortly so this is going to be a shorty, sorry. Have a great weekend everybody, stay safe, I’m appreciative for every friend I have! I love everyone! This girl is getting to me… damn!


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I blog during work to keep from sleeping. Unless people from my job are monitoring this, in which case "I love my job; I have a family". My dog Max is the man too. Other than that I think reading this blog gives a pretty good idea of what I'm about. Red Jell-o, need I say more.

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