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.

Peaces