If regular girls dress up as strippers and hoes for Halloween, what kind of costumes do real strippers and hoes wear? At some jobs you're allowed to dress up for Halloween. The day before, everybody is asking others what they're going to dress up as the next day. Can you imagine those conversations at a strip club or street corner the day before Halloween?
"Satin, what are you going to be for Halloween?"
"Well Lace, I thought about being a secretary, but I don't have any underwear with a crotch."
Granted, these women wear costumes everyday, and I'm sure they have a number of doctor, nurse, cowgirl and dominatrix costumes, but you're supposed to actually dress up for Halloween. The holiday is supposed to give you an opportunity to REALLY dress up—play another character. If you're a doctor you can't wear your scrubs out. Lawyers don't wear their suits. So strippers can't wear their stripper get-ups on Halloween. They're not really dressing up. There's a difference between dressing-up and playing dress-up. If you're an authentic stripper or a full-time hoe, you have to go deep into your bag of tricks for your costume. So what do real strippers wear on Halloween? I can't tell you, but I'm certain there aren't a whole bunch of McDonald's clerks, grandmothers or nuns at the strip club today. It's sad because the regular girls steal the stripper thunder on Halloween. They steal their costumes. And what about the street corner? Do hookers dress up on Halloween? How many doctors are there out there? Probably not many. How would people know who to pick up if even the hookers look like regular people? Not that I've ever patronized a hooker, but even I know that the only way to tell a hooker is her uniform. So I guess they're not allowed to dress up on Halloween. It goes against the hooker dress code. And let's not forget about pimps. Everyday is dress up day for pimps. They probably dress as regular people too. They certainly can't wear their green suits with the feather coming out. So today, if you don't have a costume and everybody is asking you what you are, just tell them you're an off-duty pimp on Halloween. In a way it's sad, though. What kind of job is it that you can't dress up for Halloween?
October 31, 2008
August 27, 2008
30 minutes or less or your baby is free
I actually never heard this story. My parents kept it real, but what If the stork really did deliver babies. That would be the end of racism. There would be a baby-making factory and you could call and order one. It'll be like calling for pizza.
"I'd like a medium. No, make that large boy, with brown hair, extra brains and a coke."
But what about mess-ups—when you order a pizza and it doesn't come how your ordered it? You could send it back. Most of the time you're tired of waiting, so you go ahead and take it. What about when the stork messes up? After all, it's only a bird. If the pizza man can mess up, so can a bird that delivers babies. You can send a pizza back, but you can't just send a baby back. Where would it go? You may order a medium girl with long legs, but get a large boy with extra fat. That means you could have a Mexican family with a white baby. And there's the end of racism. You can't hate a particular race because the stork could screw up and bring you that kind of baby. You can't just send a crying little baby back to the baby factory. Just pick off the stuff you don't like and hope it works out?
My plan isn't by any means foolproof. What about prank calls? We've all ordered a pizza to somebody else's house just to screw with them. So there you are trying to tell the pizza man you didn't order a pizza. Then somebody comes up behind you and tells you that it was them who ordered it. Everybody knows that if somebody orders pizza and you just so happen to be there when it arrives, it's your duty and responsibility to help take care of it. While they're paying, you take the pizza and dig in. Just as you get out that first slice they tell you that they lied. They didn't really order the pizza, but since it's there they'll just eat it. I've paid for a pizza that was inadvertently delivered to my house. I wasn't hungry at first, but the sight of a pizza will get your mouth watering pretty quickly. And once you touch that first slice it's yours anyway.
That's the equivalent of a misguided girl getting pregnant or claiming to be pregnant to keep her boyfriend around. You're standing there telling the stork you didn't order a baby. That's when your girlfriend comes behind you and says that it was her. You say it's not yours, but there's no need for a paternity test. You were there when it arrived, so it's your responsibility to help take care of it. Besides, you already touched it. Then she comes behind you and tells you that she lied. She didn't order a baby, but since it was there, she took it. Everybody knows that once a girl sees a little baby, she just has to have it.
As you can see, it's not completely fool proof, but it would end racism. All we have to do is genetically engineer a stork big enough to carry babies and start a baby factory.
"I'd like a medium. No, make that large boy, with brown hair, extra brains and a coke."
But what about mess-ups—when you order a pizza and it doesn't come how your ordered it? You could send it back. Most of the time you're tired of waiting, so you go ahead and take it. What about when the stork messes up? After all, it's only a bird. If the pizza man can mess up, so can a bird that delivers babies. You can send a pizza back, but you can't just send a baby back. Where would it go? You may order a medium girl with long legs, but get a large boy with extra fat. That means you could have a Mexican family with a white baby. And there's the end of racism. You can't hate a particular race because the stork could screw up and bring you that kind of baby. You can't just send a crying little baby back to the baby factory. Just pick off the stuff you don't like and hope it works out?
My plan isn't by any means foolproof. What about prank calls? We've all ordered a pizza to somebody else's house just to screw with them. So there you are trying to tell the pizza man you didn't order a pizza. Then somebody comes up behind you and tells you that it was them who ordered it. Everybody knows that if somebody orders pizza and you just so happen to be there when it arrives, it's your duty and responsibility to help take care of it. While they're paying, you take the pizza and dig in. Just as you get out that first slice they tell you that they lied. They didn't really order the pizza, but since it's there they'll just eat it. I've paid for a pizza that was inadvertently delivered to my house. I wasn't hungry at first, but the sight of a pizza will get your mouth watering pretty quickly. And once you touch that first slice it's yours anyway.
That's the equivalent of a misguided girl getting pregnant or claiming to be pregnant to keep her boyfriend around. You're standing there telling the stork you didn't order a baby. That's when your girlfriend comes behind you and says that it was her. You say it's not yours, but there's no need for a paternity test. You were there when it arrived, so it's your responsibility to help take care of it. Besides, you already touched it. Then she comes behind you and tells you that she lied. She didn't order a baby, but since it was there, she took it. Everybody knows that once a girl sees a little baby, she just has to have it.
As you can see, it's not completely fool proof, but it would end racism. All we have to do is genetically engineer a stork big enough to carry babies and start a baby factory.
Flava-flav word of the day
Have you heard the new Wendy’s commercial for some sandwich called The Baconator? A guy is sitting at the table and a woman asks him if he wants a bite of her salad. He says no thanks. He then explains it's because he's a "meatatarian" (sp). Huh? I'm all for being creative and making up words. People have been making up words in ads for years. There is a place for it. That place is not in this commercial. There is a word for people who only eat meat. They are said to be carnivorous, or a carnivore. You're probably thinking that carnivore is the opposite of herbivore. Thing is, vegetarian is just a cool way of saying herbivore. In a way, I guess it makes sense. They're just trying to come up with a cool way to say carnivore. For some reason, it just sounds ridiculous to me. You can't just make up your own word for one that already exists, pass it around and hope it sticks—especially if the word is stupid. At least Comcastic sounds cool. So does Farfignugin. Meatatarian does not. There's a word for people who use their brains. It’s called intelligent. I'm going to make up a word for people who don’t, and it’s going to be called meatatarians. The only person who is allowed to make up words is Flava flav. That's not a compliment, either. He only does it because his grasp of the english language is about as deep as a thimbleful of milk.
You have the right to shut the fu#k up.
I got pulled over for having a taillight out the other night. He walked over to my window and asked the question that all cops ask. The question that should be given the dumbest question of the day award, “Do you know why I’m pulling you over?” As he ran my information, I sat there wondering why they ask that. I’m sure it’s strictly rhetorical, or part of some policy, but why? Do they ask on the pure chance that somebody may incriminate themselves for something other than what they were pulled over for? Do they pull people over for nothing hoping that they’re going to tell on themselves? I wouldn't tell them even if I knew why they pulled me over on the slight chance that they will forget. I'm exercising the hell out of my right to remain silent. I mean, what is it, some sort of twisted game show. Do I get a prize if I get the question right—a get out of jail free card or something? Are you going to let me off if I play your little game? I wonder if anybody has ever incriminated themselves.
“It’s because I’m transporting heroin from the Mexican border isn’t it? No? You know I pour beer into my dogs water bowl? No? You saw me run that red light? Yeah? I was joking about that heroin thing. Funny right?"
The thing is, the real answer to the question is because they're a cop. It's their job to pull people over. If some stranger in an unmarked Volkswagen Pasat with no lights tried to pull you over, would you do it? No, because they're not a cop.
That gives me an idea for a new game show. I'm going to call it, You Have the Right To Shut the Fuck Up. It's kind of like a mix between Cops and Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Police will pull people over for what seems to be a traffic stop. They will then proceed to ask the person why they pulled them over. The only difference is they will actually wait for a response. They have to keep guessing why they officer pulled them over until they get it right. For each answer they get wrong they'll rack up a couple days in jail for being a dumbass. If you get it right, they'll let you go. Yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but people watch The Hills and America's Got Talent, don't they. It'll be a hit.
“It’s because I’m transporting heroin from the Mexican border isn’t it? No? You know I pour beer into my dogs water bowl? No? You saw me run that red light? Yeah? I was joking about that heroin thing. Funny right?"
The thing is, the real answer to the question is because they're a cop. It's their job to pull people over. If some stranger in an unmarked Volkswagen Pasat with no lights tried to pull you over, would you do it? No, because they're not a cop.
That gives me an idea for a new game show. I'm going to call it, You Have the Right To Shut the Fuck Up. It's kind of like a mix between Cops and Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Police will pull people over for what seems to be a traffic stop. They will then proceed to ask the person why they pulled them over. The only difference is they will actually wait for a response. They have to keep guessing why they officer pulled them over until they get it right. For each answer they get wrong they'll rack up a couple days in jail for being a dumbass. If you get it right, they'll let you go. Yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but people watch The Hills and America's Got Talent, don't they. It'll be a hit.
August 23, 2008
The Michael Jordan of secondary sports
Now here's an event for you. An event that is ironic if only by name. That event is race walking. What? A race, by definition, is a contest of speed. Walking, however, is something done at a leisurely pace—sometimes even for fun. Most sports have a history—somebody to credit for it's invention. James Naismith and basketball. Abner Doubleday and baseball. Who is the inventor of race walking? Probably a grandmother somewhere.
"What are you doing today?"
"I don't know. I may go for a walk."
And then somebody said the faithful words that changed the walking world as we know it. I'll race you. It's not just an event thrown into the Olympics so Estonia can win a medal, either. It's one of the most governed sports in the Olympics. You are penalized, or carded, for each misstep in your form. Yes, walking has a proper form. Who knew? The basics are,
1. Race walking is a progression of steps so taken that the walker makes contact with the ground so that no visible (to the human eye) loss of contact occurs.
2. The advancing leg must be straightened (i.e., not bent at the knee) from the moment of first contact with the ground until in the vertical upright position.
Any violation of the rules of form results in a card. Three cards and you're disqualified. That means there will be no strolling, sauntering, swaggering, bebopping, slow-bobbing, limping or pimping in the event. Notice there were no brothers. Why? Every brother walks with a bit of a limp. We'd be disqualified as soon as the gun sounds.
There are favorites in every event—even race walking. I was sitting there thinking to myself, how does that happen. Is there a Michael Jordan of race walking in Russia? Do kids grow up wanting to be like him—wanting to be race walkers? I don't know, but I imagine that the kid who wants to race walk probably doesn't have many friends.
"You wanna come out and play?"
"Naw, I gotta go practice walking." Seriously? I mean you can pretty much practice wherever you go. But who wants to hang out with the guy who's walking like he has a broken hip all the time?
And then I was watching another interesting event. Competitive trampolineing. People jump up and down on a trampoline and do flips. The event was held in some Chinese housewife's backyard. I'm serious. Who knew that when I was eight on my next-door-neighbors trampoline that I could've gone to the Olympics? Such wasted talent.
"What are you doing today?"
"I don't know. I may go for a walk."
And then somebody said the faithful words that changed the walking world as we know it. I'll race you. It's not just an event thrown into the Olympics so Estonia can win a medal, either. It's one of the most governed sports in the Olympics. You are penalized, or carded, for each misstep in your form. Yes, walking has a proper form. Who knew? The basics are,
1. Race walking is a progression of steps so taken that the walker makes contact with the ground so that no visible (to the human eye) loss of contact occurs.
2. The advancing leg must be straightened (i.e., not bent at the knee) from the moment of first contact with the ground until in the vertical upright position.
Any violation of the rules of form results in a card. Three cards and you're disqualified. That means there will be no strolling, sauntering, swaggering, bebopping, slow-bobbing, limping or pimping in the event. Notice there were no brothers. Why? Every brother walks with a bit of a limp. We'd be disqualified as soon as the gun sounds.
There are favorites in every event—even race walking. I was sitting there thinking to myself, how does that happen. Is there a Michael Jordan of race walking in Russia? Do kids grow up wanting to be like him—wanting to be race walkers? I don't know, but I imagine that the kid who wants to race walk probably doesn't have many friends.
"You wanna come out and play?"
"Naw, I gotta go practice walking." Seriously? I mean you can pretty much practice wherever you go. But who wants to hang out with the guy who's walking like he has a broken hip all the time?
And then I was watching another interesting event. Competitive trampolineing. People jump up and down on a trampoline and do flips. The event was held in some Chinese housewife's backyard. I'm serious. Who knew that when I was eight on my next-door-neighbors trampoline that I could've gone to the Olympics? Such wasted talent.
If you leave me I'll cut all my toes off
You know what else I'm tired of in music. I'm sure you're not, but I'm going to tell you anyway. I'm tired of ridiculous analogies--especially in love songs. If you leave me my head will blow up. If you leave me I'll lose my sight. You know what I'm talking about. The worst are the analogies about being able to breathe. I'm sure Toni Braxton didn't start these analogies (they've been floating around forever), but she has the first one that I really remember.
If I never feel you in my arms again
If I never feel your tender kiss again
If I never hear I love you now and then
Will I never make love to you once again
Please understand if love ends
Then I promise you, I promise you
That, that I shall never breathe again
Is she serious? If so, he must give one hell of a hug. If you're that guy, what do you say to that? You can't really break up with a girl who's going to die if you leave her. What a guilt trip. Who wants to have that on their shoulders? That's a lot of pressure. She even promised, so she must be telling the truth. We all know how women feel about breaking promises.
And what about this one by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown called No Air?
But How,
Do you expect me,
To live alone with just me?
'Cause my world revolves around you,
It's so hard for me to breathe.
(Chorus)
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air.
Can't live, can't breathe with no air.
That's how I feel when I know you ain't there.
There's No Air No Air.
Got me out here in the water so deep.
Tell me how you gon' be without me.
If you ain't here, I just can't breathe.
It's No Air No Air.
I'll tell you how you're supposed to breathe with no air--gills. And unless you're some kind of fish-man, I'm going to guess you don't have a pair. I've been in love before. I've even been broken up with before. I don't know what it feels like to suffocate, but I'll tell you this, that's not how I felt. You know what I felt like? I felt like I did before I met her, but just a little bit more sad. I never once felt like I was going to die. They're equating each other with air, but can you leave something that's always around?
Then there's this one by J. Holliday called Suffocate.
Chorus
Cause I can't breathe when you talk to me,
can't breathe when your touching me.
Suffocate when you're away from me.
So much love you take from me
I'm going out of my mind
He doesn't sound like a guy that should be in love. He sounds like a guy who should be scared. He can't breathe when she talks to him. He can't breathe when she's touching him. She doesn't sound like a good girlfriend. She sounds like the grim reaper. I'd be going out of my mind if death was sleeping in my bed too.
It even crosses music genres. Take, How Do I Breathe? Two songs with different lyrics and different artists--one country and one R&B. One by a teenage caucasian girl, and the other by a teenage african-american guy. Apparently suffocating has no race or gender biases.
I know that these are just analogies and aren't to be taken literally. I'm just saying that the whole breathing analogy is getting a little trite. I think I'm going to come out with an album with less used, but honest lyrics. The album will include tracks with titles like, "When you left, it sucked but I'll live", "We broke up, but my new girlfriend is hotter" and "Finally I'm rid of you".
If I never feel you in my arms again
If I never feel your tender kiss again
If I never hear I love you now and then
Will I never make love to you once again
Please understand if love ends
Then I promise you, I promise you
That, that I shall never breathe again
Is she serious? If so, he must give one hell of a hug. If you're that guy, what do you say to that? You can't really break up with a girl who's going to die if you leave her. What a guilt trip. Who wants to have that on their shoulders? That's a lot of pressure. She even promised, so she must be telling the truth. We all know how women feel about breaking promises.
And what about this one by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown called No Air?
But How,
Do you expect me,
To live alone with just me?
'Cause my world revolves around you,
It's so hard for me to breathe.
(Chorus)
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air.
Can't live, can't breathe with no air.
That's how I feel when I know you ain't there.
There's No Air No Air.
Got me out here in the water so deep.
Tell me how you gon' be without me.
If you ain't here, I just can't breathe.
It's No Air No Air.
I'll tell you how you're supposed to breathe with no air--gills. And unless you're some kind of fish-man, I'm going to guess you don't have a pair. I've been in love before. I've even been broken up with before. I don't know what it feels like to suffocate, but I'll tell you this, that's not how I felt. You know what I felt like? I felt like I did before I met her, but just a little bit more sad. I never once felt like I was going to die. They're equating each other with air, but can you leave something that's always around?
Then there's this one by J. Holliday called Suffocate.
Chorus
Cause I can't breathe when you talk to me,
can't breathe when your touching me.
Suffocate when you're away from me.
So much love you take from me
I'm going out of my mind
He doesn't sound like a guy that should be in love. He sounds like a guy who should be scared. He can't breathe when she talks to him. He can't breathe when she's touching him. She doesn't sound like a good girlfriend. She sounds like the grim reaper. I'd be going out of my mind if death was sleeping in my bed too.
It even crosses music genres. Take, How Do I Breathe? Two songs with different lyrics and different artists--one country and one R&B. One by a teenage caucasian girl, and the other by a teenage african-american guy. Apparently suffocating has no race or gender biases.
I know that these are just analogies and aren't to be taken literally. I'm just saying that the whole breathing analogy is getting a little trite. I think I'm going to come out with an album with less used, but honest lyrics. The album will include tracks with titles like, "When you left, it sucked but I'll live", "We broke up, but my new girlfriend is hotter" and "Finally I'm rid of you".
bust your ass disclaimer
As I sat for what seemed like hours behind this truck, I noticed the sign on the back. I just thought it was funny. If the vehicle and the company that owns that vehicle are not responsible for objects coming from the road, then who is? Is that an imaginary truck? What they're really trying to say is, "hey asshole, there is a whole bunch of rocks in here. Some of them may fly out, so if you want to keep your windshield intact, stay a good distance back. If you don't, and your junker gets hit, don't come crying to us because we're not gonna get out the checkbook. We're just going to say we told you so." That's more appropriate and makes a whole lot more sense. I can deal with that, but don't insult my intelligence by saying you're not responsible. Liable is the word they're looking for.
I don't have a picture of this one, but in the apartment complex there's a sign on the gate arm that says, "complex is not responsible for damage to car from gate arm." I get it. People try to sneak in behind other cars and they're not going to pay for damage just because you didn't want to wait five minutes. The problem arises when the gate malfunctions and hits your car anyway, like it did with mine. I just have to accept it because your little disclaimer covers your butt. That gate arm could come down on top of my car, do an Irish jig on the hood, the macarena on the roof and it wouldn't matter.
On days when I just don't want to deal with life I'm going to wear a shirt with a disclaimer that says, "C. J. is not responsible if he busts you in the eye". That way, if I get mad I can't get sued. When they're lying on the ground staring at me with that why'd-you-hit-me look, I'm just going to point at the shirt.
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