Owen trying to end it all. 

Wow. Whoever showed Hombre how to tie a tie did a GREAT job!! Now if he could just get it on...straight. Hahahahaha!!! "Hey, joo don't mik shokes h'about me. I pees on jor tooth brush for that." 

Goddammit Hombre E!! I go to the store for some salsa and you can't stay out of my clothes for 10 minutes!! "Oh Jess Rrrryan, ees true. But I jess luke so bueno. Shoo know thees. Jess call me Hombre sex E!!" At least his shirt is on.

"It just doesn't make any SENSE!!"

As I lay here in bed, chewing gum and rocking out to this band Lightning Bolt. Seriously. I'm freakin' rockin' out. These dudes are pulverising my soul and melting my face with their crazy ass drums n' bass. I think they're from Rocktopia or something. Anyway, I don't dare turn on the t.v. I'm sick of seeing that nasty, drooling retarded chick on 24 hours a day. I mean, JESUS. Why do they have to show Oprah all time? Plus that Terri Shiavo chick. You know how much weight I've lost? Not as much as her in the last week, but daaaamn. Just show a picture of a tiger jumping through fire or something. No more. NO MAS!! Oh, and then there's Michael Jackson. At least somebody's taking some of the heat off of him. Why is it that Michael Jackson gets to go to court in his pj's, but this chick is getting starved to death? Mike's probably all full on Jesus Juice and she's...not. How much more effed up can current events get? Let me tell you. Rev. Jerry (the tsunami killed them because they're not Christians) Falwell is in the hospital.He'll probably live. But who died? Mr. Jonnie "Chewbacca Defense" Cochran!!!
Yeah, he saved O.J., but dammit!!! In a perfect world Falwell and Jackson would be sharing a feeding tube. Cochran would've gotten married to both of them in Hawaii in some crazy mormon multi-husband commitment ceremony and O.J. would've put them into a coma. Then years later Jonnie would meet Teri, decide he like the chick, and pulled the tube from those 2 mother effers. Or something. My gum is making me high. Or maybe it's this open paint can.

So I asked Chris how big he thought I was. Then I asked him how much he loved me. His answer was the same for both questions "THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS MUCH!!" 

See #8 there? She's the one that took a shot to the face. Sometimes I make this too easy. I'm not sure how anybody got a ball to her face with that type of D. Oh, and there I am in the middle. I was totally unafraid. Until I saw # 4 with his socks all Nick Van Exel style. I knew he was serious. And black. I was scared.

DOMO ARIGATO AND BIG UPS!!!!

Now I have to kill Stewart Scott. He keeps biting my style. I'M the one who started the crazy eyeball fad. ME! Whatever. Seriously though, mad props to everyone who helped me out this weekend. My brudda Kyle and my homey Chris for coming up to Seattle to help me out in my time of need. I mean...why am I bleeding there? Plus they supported me during dodgeball. Taking pictures, catching beer from drunk Coasties, putting uppity ushers in their place and making me sleep on the couch. That was just Friday. Also much love to the chick from the Air Force who took a ball in the face. That freakin' ruled. Let's leave that alone, shall we? I took out 2 mofos myself during the tourney. Big ups to me.
More thanks (what the crap? Is this a freakin' cd?) go to my Pop's and Chris for Saturday. Thanks to Pop's for the new Wedding/Interview/Dinner/Beg for change suit. It's pretty badass. Also thanks to Pop's for the belt, shirt n' shoes that went along with it. Mucho Gracias to Chris for driving my ass down to PDX from Seatown to do said suit shopping. And to help a brotha pick a cool ass tie out...and keep it reeeeal. True Pleasure and Maratini? Thanks for the drive back up. Thanks for missing the Burgerville exit and turning around to avoid a very awkward drive up to Seattle. And thanks to Burgerville for my TWO single cheeseburger baskets. Not one Two cheeseburger basket. But TWO SINGLE cheeseburger baskets. It felt good at first thinking I got a free soda. Thanks for being a buzzkill Josh, P.I.
Well, that about covers it. Oh. Thanks to Sliders 12 also. You've been a life saver!

Hombre E Strikes Again

Hombre E NO!! Man, see? Even Hombre E got in on the Trio action. Sorry stranger, if you only knew where your Trio had been. I hope you wipe it down before you start making all your big bid'ness deals!!

Fffffreeeeow!! Hellloooo?! Freeeow! 

So yesterday after shootin' hoops with True Pleasure, we went to get some Fish n' Chips at Ivar's. I was scouting ahead on Jeff for parking. When something caught my eye. A cell phone? WOAH JOSH! STOP!! Homey almost ran it over. It WAS a cell phone. And a camera. And a e-mail thingy. It was a Trio!! Pretty freakin' fancy dancy I ain't wearin' no pantsy. Being the good citizen I am, I wanted to check it for any pornographic pictures or famous peoples numbers. It became evident that neither of those were present. So I tried to figure out who it belonged to. Way too many names n' stuff. So we decided to dial a random home number. No answer. I leave a message. No callback. So all day today, this thing is buzzin' in front of my pan...err..on my desk at work. I can't answer it because now I'm locked out've it. Then I get home and it buzzes all hardcore. Mmm...I mean, so I try to answer it. I can't. But I DO see a number!! Some Japanese (easy Kyle) name. I think it's a dude (settle, Kyle!). So I quickly write it down, and call the dude. I'm pretty sure it's a dude still. Anyway, I'm meeting homey by the ferry docks in the morning. He's gonna be wearing a trench coat. This could end badly. Anyway, Simon decided to call some of his beetches. I can't leave anything lying around here.

AND IN THIS CORNER! MY NEW ROOOOOOOMIE!!!

Sooooo, I'm done with the CG pretty soon. I thought it'd be a good idea to start saving up some scratch for my new life up in Canada. So I got a roomie. Hombre E. I don't know what the E is for. Yet. Anyway, he does a lot of yelling and pointing. And humping. It's bad man. This was such a bad idea. He pees sitting down. I don't know man. Jeez.

Shunk! 

So I decided to do a little cleaning today after work. For last few weeks...months? My vacuum hasn't been performing quite like it should be. I'd say "Vacuum! You pick this up!!" Then it would just be all "SCREW YOU! You're not even my real Dad!!!" Man, that hurt. Because I took this vacuum in from off the harsh shelves of Target. That vacuum would be dead right now if it weren't for me. Anyway, when I vacuum, it was so half assed. There'd still be kitty litter, crumbs, condoms, whatever...just left behind. But the nice thing was, it smelled like Christmas whenever I vacuumed. No, not like your Uncle's breath Chris. Like a Christmas tree. So nice. I mean, I could SEE the filter thing was getting full. Like 3/4. I didn't want to empty it, because that would get rid of all the needles. And I hate throwing away needles...I try to use them as long as I possibly can. But I decided that it IS almost April and maybe time for a fresh start. So I took the filter off...BAM! A lil' nest of needles was blocking all the suckage!! Lookit that! I mean LOOK! It's like a bird made it! Oh, and notice how I rolled up my sleeve to show off the ink. Rad. I also messed with the red eye tool. Worked pretty well. I wish they had an add-a-defined-chin tool. Damn. Look at THAT. Where does my neck start? And that scar? I wish it was something from plastic surgery to give me a jaw. But it's not. It's not.

So here we are. Comin' to the end of March. What comes with the end of March? Easter muther effuhs, Easter. A celebration of the rebirth of our Lord and Savior, Marshmallow Peeps. Or Jesus Peeps. Something. Something about dying and moving a huge rock from a cave. Anyway, we usually celebrate this crazy magic trick (I'm not sure it was Guild approved) by dying eggs and letting a bunny hide them. On top of that, this year I'll be celebrating with my very dear (bitter) friend, Chris. Only we'll be breaking from the tradition of the eggs. Sort of. I mean, we'll dye eggs. Okay? Fine. God...the point is that on Friday I've pretty much signed my death warrant. I'll be participating in a game of Dodgeball with members of other branches of the military. I'm talkin' Army dudes. There might be Marines. I don't know for sure, I think I'm blocking that. The Army thing is crazy enough. Apparently "they're taking it very seriously". Meanwhile, I've been watching t.v. and trying to crack the case of the Mystery Swede. The closest I've come to preparing, is with a bit of basketball today. True Pleasure and I headed to the gym on base. I think that's the first time I've ever used it for anything except the bathroom. Did I mention that this dodgeball deal is going down at the Key Arena? During a Sonics Game. At Halftime. In front of people. THOUSANDS of people. Thanks for volunteering your picture taking services, Chris...I might need to use the before pictures for my wedding. I hope the army brings girls. Because I'm gonna aim for their heads and baby makers. Isn't that what Jesus would do?

Post-Op Jeff. Yeah, that's carpet. SCREW YOU WORLD!! I MAKE MY OWN RULES! 

A Wee Update.

Well, a few things have happened in the last week or so, huh? No? Really? Well, does a Swedish water filter find YOU attractive? I guess I have a way with the appliances. Oh, and I'm also pretty sure that pictures make things way better. Lots of things. So I'll keep posting pictures instead of huge manifestos. But that's probably a lie. It'll be both.
How was the weekend? Oh, pretty good. Relatively mellow. Chilled with True Pleasure and Maratini (patent pending) and some of their homey's K n' J. Played some poo' at a cool new joint called the Garage. It was a good enough time that we went back for seconds on Saturday...only to be shot down by a 45 minute wait. What is this, Star Wars? I'm not waiting in line!! So we rolled to Jillian's to play some pool. Arriving, we find some rock star parking and another 45 minute wait. So I challenged these dudes to a knife fight for their table. They said "No way dude. You'd totally kill us and take our cars an' weemin." They were very wise. And correct. So we put our name on the list and decided to play our old stand-by: Crazyass Basketball Moving Hoop Sore Arm Game. Fun stuff. Last time Josh and I were equals, setting a new personal record of 56. But True Pleasure was having nunna dat this time. He went Sixy fo', den Seveny Tree. Outta freakin' control. Hopefully congress never decides to investigate that game for steroids. Because if they call ME up to testify...dude Josh, you are SO screwed.
After trying EVERYTHING from charging his diva ass to buying a fancy digital battery recharger (that didn't do anything except shock my nipples), I FINALLY got Jeff running again. With a jumpstart. From the Montero. Did you know that batteries can explode? I think I heard that somewhere. So I wore gloves, safety glases and t-shirt just to be safe. I think I even squinted when I had to start him. VROOM! So I'm back in business now. Just in time for the railroad construction that Chris is so fond of hearing about. Speaking of Chris. Hopefully you're feelin' better tough guy. I think I might take a page from your book and take some cold medicine to get some sleep right now. There'll be more to follow aug der morgan!! Or evening. Whatever.

I convinced Jeff to come upstairs. He was having tough time in the garage. I think he caught something from one've the Euro bikes down there. So he wasn't starting. So I told him there was candy up in my apartment...I knew he couldn't say no. Before he knew it, I was all underneath him, messin' with his parts and taking pictures. He cried a little. Nothing a bit of Premium Unleaded couldn't take care of though. So yeah. I took off his mid-kickstand (he said that if I didn't do it, he'd go to Mexico and have it done for cheap). I guess he's always struggled with it. It was an extra part that he felt was keeping him from who he really was. Oh. And apparently I feed my cats radioactive waste. Look at those freakin' EYES!! JESUS!! I fed you since you were a kitten! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! 

The most action my bed has seen in months. Look at Owen. "Reeeow! I'm resisting!!" Pfft, you're not foolin' anybody lil' guy.

To you this may look like Jeff's soft underbelly. To many others...mostly squirrels and pigeons...it's the last thing they'll ever see. Since removing my mid-kickstand, I can get a lot of small dogs too. Thump THUMP! 

Where's Qyntel Woods when you need him? 

I'm pretty sure that my cats get on the counters. Now, if I could just come up with some evidence to PROVE it. 

Hey Bono. Eat a dick. Then I scooted away as The Edge screamed "You cain't tok to Bono loik that!" And I said "Why are you talking with an Australian accent?" That's how U2 got to be kicked out've the St Paddy's parade.

So Friday began with a week (weak) early St. Paddy's Day parade here in Seattle. As tradition dictates, it was super lame. Ted showed up with the family. The chil'ren were begging for money on a street corner. At least THEY get to keep their clothes on while they do it. Anyway, the parade DID suck. Till I got in it. Give a kid on a scooter a flag and nobody will question him. Not even pirates. Plus, those Irish chicks behind me were soooo freakin' UGLY!! I had to ride ahead and worn everybody. I think the one behind me totally wanted to make out.

Another Friday goes by that Josh can't resist 'taking care of' an old man who'd offered to take our picture. He could've at least waited till AFTER the picture was taken.

Man, that is the CHEAPEST roofie ever. I mean. You can still see it. All floating and green. The funny thing is, Mara drank that shizzy anyways!! Me? Strawburry lemonade. You better not front. 

Internet Exclusive...Expires!!

And then you asked for it to go away. Well, I'm sure it's not the first time Lil' Josh has struck fear into the hearts of the masses. Now available via e-mail!! At least I get some practice with editing stuff. Much love to Mara for not killing me. And to Hobbes for inspiring me. She's all like "Ohhhh man, I am gonna mess UP dat weenuh!!" Then the Prairie Dog is like all "Rar!! Git away from dis hee-ya weenah!!" Oh, oh! And then there was the lil' bacteria one that was just goin' "Hey, I'm a little bacteria...hi arrow!" Oh man. Thanks for the laughs. I'm e-mailin' that shizzy so you can treasure it forever. Pace!

You Asked For it.

Making it's first (?) appearance....Lil' Josh!! I'm scarred for life.

Light em' Up

Ahhh, March. In like a lion, out like a lamb. More like Josh lyin' in (and out of) the lamb.
We're a third of the way done with it. Makes you think. Another day, another week, another month. Three of us are approaching 29. My question is...will we make it? And 30? Are you kidding? Between the stupid crap we've done between just 18 and now, it's amazing we haven't suffered from more than sunburns, bad shoulders and near vision loss. My eye!!! Hahahaha. Ahh. Seriously. Of us three older guys, not even a kidney stone. Sorry Kyle, those buckets of soda didn't help you when you were younger. Pass it! Pass it!
And now all of us are starting/started new lives. New businesses, jobs, marriage(s) and a new freakin' country. I mean, how did we MAKE it this far?!!! I'll tell you. Milk. Lots of it. And maybe some magic. The magic of friendship. The magic of mushrooms. The magic of internet porn!!! And yes, the magic of Josh's hands. Last weekend Chris and I were doing brodies down in my parking garage. At night. On scooters. I almost lost it ala Randy. Chris later topped it by being topped by Pierre. Funniest crap ever. Then the near cardiac arrest we put ourselves into on Sunday. I can't wait for 29. More road to travel. More snow to ride. And a nekkid girl to look at. Sweet.

20 + 8 = Motrin bee-yotch.

Cold. Desolate. Empty bottles, strange stains, papers blowing in the wind. In the distance...a cat. MEEEERRRREEEEEOOOOOW!!!! Calling for it's young? Perhaps a warning to those about to pass? Or maybe he's saying "Get off your ass and clean this goddam apartment. And put some pants on." Yeah. That's probably more accurate. Since that's the scene of my place right now.
Chris finally made the trek up to Seattle with PR. Pierre? I like it. SHHHHHH!!! Shhh. Chris arrived in Seattle around three of the clock. With a full bladder. Usually, that's my gig, but I'll share. I met him at about three firty at the Starbucks World Domination HQ downtown. We drove (man, I totally just deleted a buncha stuff. CRAP!!) down Alaskan Way. Beautiful day. We get to the end of Alaskan, only to be stopped by a train. For ten minutes. What's ten minutes? 600 seconds. 600 seconds to sit. And take in the view of the Puget Sound. The ebb and flow of it. The fullness of it. I mean, there's so much WATER out there. And it's just so FREE! The way water should be. Free. Oh. And Chris still has to pee.
Finally the torment of the choo-choo passes. We're back on our way. Get to the parking garage. Chris is dying. Dancing. Clenching. Clutching. Sobbing softly. The elevator doesn't come fast enough. I was cool though. I totally asked if he was okay. The tears told me he was. I think that means he's still breathing. Or something. Anyway, as soon as my front door opens, Chris drops everything in the hallway and bolts into the bathroom. Sweet, sweet emptiness ensues.
Then it's time for a little bit of Halo. Word. So Pierre and Jeff were together again. This time it was Pierre with the cool ass new sticker. Lil' Kim never looked better. We drove the machines up to Baja Fresh. Our baja's were anything BUT fresh.
Then it was time to go kill some time with True Pleasure aka Josh and the wifey Mara before supper time.
I can't believe I'm remembering all this stuff from Friday. I mean, it's freakin' Monday night!! Thanks vitamins!
Anyway, Chris being the generous (I'm serious) amigo he is, lets True Pleasure ride PR to Alki Beach. It was a nice ride. Most of it was spent looking in my rear view mirror wondering how heavy Josh REALLY is. Or maybe he's afraid of all that power. No. No, it's the fat. Nice ride though. Pretty night.
We arrive at Alki and park at Tully's. No problem on the scooters. Mara on the other hand needs to invest in a Mini Cooper, parallel parking lessons, or heroin. Maybe all three. But they finally parked that big ol' Civic up the street. We passed up on the uppity French restaurant and settled for the outside enjoyment of Bamboo. A pretty rad restaurant where professional football players and NASCAR fans can eat in harmony. As long as we're sitting between them. Being crushed by the football player. And his girl giving him the sage advice to be careful leaving the seat because "you're going to kill those white people." Luckily, he was careful. Thanks big guy!
It was nice to have some of my New Skoo friends interact with my Old Skoo friends. Like a weird experiment. Strangely, no clothes were shed. Anyway, thanks to everyone for coming out to that. Especially Ted. I'm never going to get that glitter off of my pants buddy!
We capped the evening off with some Halo. Shocking.
Saturday welcomed us (not frontin' anymo') with a sunny day. I think we wasted most of it inside though. Oh wait. No, we went to Peet's for some coffee. I was blinded most of the day by a migraine. Or was that from too much masturbating? I forget. But for the first time of 3 times, motrin saved the day. After getting a hold of True Pleasure and Mara, we decided to go play some pool and get some Metchican food at Mamas. Great place. The evening ended with Wine Coolers, Nerf Basketball, the acknowledgement of Hungry Hungry Hippos (sorry guys!), nekkid cat wrasslin' and most shockingly, Halo.
Ahhhh Sunday. Still holding a grudge from last week? Yes. Yes you are. You baited us in by living up to your name. Sunday. It was nice. We rode Jeff and PR with T shirts. On us. Not the scooters. Picked up my ID that had been forgotten the night before, got some Thai food and made an impromtu trip to Josh and Tiny Dancer's. We make our presence known by revving the engines in the front yard. The landlords are impressed. I assume. Josh and Mara invite us in. We thank them with a symphony of farts. Again. I think the landlords were impressed.
We decide to take a walk to the park. The one off MLK. Yes, MLK implies pretty much the same thing in every city. Good thing Mara had her colors on. REPRESENT!!
Our cracker asses stroll up to the court and proceed to shoot airball after brick, after airball.
Smelling blood in the air, some dudes ask us three to play some ball. "Nah, that's coo..." "SURE! Yeah, we'll play!". I hate you guys.
Good thing we all decided to wear jeans and skateboard shoes. Totally prepared. I wind up guarding some dude whoe said it was his "first time." If I had a nickel for every guy who's told me that! Chriiiisss...wink! Shhhh! Shhhhhhhhhhh.
We actually wound up handling these mofos pretty well. Huge lead. Game point. We freakin' lose. Wow. My hands were numb. I was light headed. I tasted my Thai food at LEAST two seperate times. I don't think the Stank ass Barney mother effer I was gaurding helped the situation. Jesus dude. I get two extremes. Chris sprays his Axe in the morning, then this dude who smells like an axe that's used to chop butt holes. Damn.
Anyway, tryin' to ball with these dudes who were NOT our age kicked our asses. As I lay here in bed on my heating pad, ingesting Motrin to help with the ache. It feels pretty rad. Oh wait. No. No it doesn't. Time for leftovers.

Later, our hearts were broken. Because even after suckin' on Kyle's ear the whole game, the brotha wouldn't cough up his digits. 

We're still fighting about who the leader of our gang is. Prince thinks it's automatic because he has all the cool ass fog. But I think it should be me. I mean, do YOU wanna mess with all those chins? Didn't think so.