Dave, the prostitute, and I

One day a few years ago, my friend Dave and I were driving home from the north side of Houston, TX, near Bush Intercontinental Airport.  My car was low on gas, so we stopped at a Chevron, and as soon I walked out of my car, a rather large scantily clad black woman made eye contact with me.  Immediately, she asked me if I had 8 cents (and mind you this isn’t the 1920s when 8 cents had much more buying power).  Before I could even reply she said, “I’ll give you head for it.”  I said, “No thank you mam, but you can ask my friend.”  I pointed to the passenger seat.  The prostitute walked over to his side, knocked on the door, Dave opened it, and they began to converse.  I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but after a minute or so, she left us and walked into the gas station.  As I paid for the gas with my debit card, she came out, and approached me again saying, “You know you want some of this,” as she held her breasts.  I said, “I don’t believe in subjugating women, using them like material objects - that’s not my mentality.” (Yes I really said that!)  The prostitute then replied, “If you won’t fuck me then feed me.”  I thought about that for a minute.  I thought about caring for others and what that really meant to me.  So I said, “Okay… there’s a Burger King across the street, you wanna go there?”  She said, “Yeah, yeah...”  She hopped in the backseat of my car, and I drove her to the Burger King. 

(In retrospect, this might not have been the wisest decision, considering that any number of things could have gone wrong – she could have had drugs on her, the police could have suspected me of trying to use a prostitute, she could have went nuts, who knows…  The radical side of me wanted to forget all those things and just embrace loving others at any cost regardless of the consequences.  I suppose living up to ideals can be somewhat risky in a less than ideal world.) 

Well, we arrived at the Burger King.  And walking into it was such a…umm…awkward experience.  There we were, my friend and I with a woman dressed in hooker garb, and then I pulled out some cash money and paid for her meal.  I’m pretty sure I was misconstrued as her pimp to the people there.  I bought her a burger, and then I told her it was splitting time.  She thanked me for the food, and that was the end of that.

Ridiculous Movie Posters

I've seen this flick, and the only thing I really remember is that at the beginning a lightning bolt strikes Bruce Lee's grave, and some fake Bruce Lee looking dude pops out of it, and starts beating people up.  I think I purposely blocked the rest of the story out of my mind.

Oh the trials and tribulations of being a two headed giant - having to choose between loving and killing.  Alas, tough decisions have to be made, such is life.

We all knew it was just a matter of time before dolphins started assassinating our world leaders.

Uhh... what is that baby monster in the middle smoking?

Lord have mercy.

Nootka Tribal Song

You only achieve this with old age:

                        I look like a sea-parrot

                        with white patches

                        on each side of my head.

Try to become old as fast as you can.

                        I look so handsome.

-Author Unknown

Enter the Whoop Ass

Hello, my name is Mr. Whoop Ass.  There’s only one thing about me you need to know – If you piss me off, be expecting an ass whooping…

One day I was on my laptop clunking my way through cyberspace when I received a message: “Alert your computer has been hijacked.  All of your files are compromised.”  My computer went into lockdown mode, and I could not use it anymore.  I proceeded to punch a hole in the wall.  Afterwards, I took my laptop to a computer savvy friend.  This friend told me that someone named Blake Todd from 312 Zap Lane, Olympia, Washington, Apartment #848 put the virus on my computer. 

The next day, I hopped on a train and took a few buses to Olympia.  I found the apartment complex rather easily.  I jumped the fence and walked straight to apartment #848.  I busted through the door.  Nothing was in the main room except a few empty pizza boxes.  There were two signs on the bedroom door – “Viruses Rule” and “I hate human beings.”  I kicked the door down.  There sat a pudgy, curly haired middle aged man wearing nothing but underwear furiously typing into a keyboard, playing a game with ghouls and goblins.  I tapped him on the shoulder, and he swiftly turned around, snarled and then said, “Who the hell are you?!  What are you doing here?!”

I replied, “Hello, my name is Mr. Whoop Ass.  I heard you like to create computer viruses.  I think you can guess what happens next.”