Archive for the 'alien sightings' Category



heading west…

…is a frightening prospect.  pretty worried over here.  what if the moviestars like the oompa loompa are too sophisticated for me?  shit, what am i saying?  more sophisticated than ME?!  ME?!!  i know.  you’re all saying to yourselves, “suit, why are you worried?  you are the classiest mutherfucker since don johnson.”  well, i know.  i know.  i mean, it is my divine providence after all.  i’m like lewis and clark.  except more like clark, cuz i’m not going to shoot myself after i get back home. 

all the same, i’m a little worried.  they might be on a different level of consciousness, and maybe i won’t even be able to communicate with them.  worse yet, i might wreck the rental car or get my wallet jacked at lax.  shit, they might blow up my damn plane  — atlanta to lax.  sounds like a lot of fuel in that boeing. 

no good stressing out, though.  that’s why, with this post, i’ll chronicle some of the main reasons why i’m looking forward to l.a.

1.  crossing the mighty mississippi — never done it yet and am looking forward to it, big time.  a big milestone for a waterman like me.

2.  going to another mlb ballpark — dodgers stadium should be fun.  as long as they sell beer and caps, i’ll be all good.  a mets’ loss (or, better yet, a terrible injury to beltran) would just be icing on the cake.

3.  seeing my ole pal roughtonious — live 2 hours down the road from him and have to go to l.a. just to touch bases with a guy i used to see 5 times every day.  p.s. roughty, i apologize for stealing all those subway station sandwiches from you.  i always blamed in on stoney, but it was really me sometimes.  also, while i’m apologizing, sorry for laughing at you for the sj punch to the grill.  you did have it coming, though…  pffft.

4.  feeling comfortable in another city — when you’re a homeboy like me, you really get confident when you go someplace else and can function like a reasonable human.  not sure if this will happen, but i’m thinking positive.

5.  not leaving my wallet in the bar — stoney will remind me this time after the “off the wagon” incident in greenwich vill.  if not, he’ll have a new permanent roommate.

6.  going to the actual locations where some of my favorite movies were shot — training day, friday, don’t be a menace to south central while drinking your juice in the hood.

7.  going to all my favorite places from 90210 — the beach where brenda met dylan, west beverly high, the radio station where david silver learned about speeeeed.

8.  meeting lady t. — after all the hype, i’m ready to meet the genuine article.  if she can make our boy take nudie pics off the blog, she must be a wonderful person.  —editorial sidebar — yes, i’m kissing ass, boys.  this is what you do before you go and share a teeny living space with somebody you never met before.—

9.  the pacific ocean — another one of those things i never saw before.  should be suhweet, gnarly, bodacious and that hang ten sign you do by sticking out your thumb and pinky finger and jiggling your hand around.  maybe i’ll finally get to see the monster swells like on point break.  i’m paddling out, bra!

10.  smoking west coast rocks — i heard they’ll make you grit your teeth until they fall out.  i already packed up my tire pressure guages and steel wool.  yall know how we do.

most of all, though, there’s number 11. scratching the shit out of my pal stoney’s cd collection — i’m sitting here listening to let it be, and wouldn’t you know it, the shit is scratched right to hell — right in the middle of the long and winding road, no less.  why don’t i take it out and put in something else like the love below?  oh.  that is scratched to shit as well.  oh.  what about all your sublime cds?  you guessed it.  looks like someone ran them over.  bob dylan discs?  fuuuucked up.  broke a cd player with one of them just last week – seriously.  why are all my cds scratched?  i’ll tell you.  it’s this blog’s fearless leader — mr stoney.  it’s almost as though he destructulated my shit on purpose.  oh well, iain’tmadatcha.  all i’m saying is you better hide your shit, holmes.  for real.  i’m bringing some rusty nails and broken glass for the whole collection.

all jokes aside, i can’t wait to see my friends again.  the only thing that would make it better is if dankkkkk could come.  what am i saying?  i know he could come if he really wanted to.  (peer-pressure’s a bitch, muthafuckah.) 

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Alien Sightings and Paul McCartney is Weak

There I was yesterday, at the Santa Monica courthouse, standing in line to pay a registration ticket. Lady T was sitting on the bench or something, and she went, “Psst,” and I looked over.

BAM!

oompa.jpg

Ever heard of a motherfucking Oompa Loompa? I had a fucking Oompa Loompa, THE Oompa Loompa, standing right next to me, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and really really small, white Keds.

Little Dude was also in The Dark Crysal, one of Suit’s favorites, and was an Ewok in the old Star Wars. Pimpin.

How did I know he was an alien? It’s pretty fucking obvious.

deeproy.jpg

How do I see all of these world famous celebrities? My inner beauty and stardom obviously acts as a magnet for similar people. Movie stars are inherently and automatically attracted to me by a gravitational pull that is not unlike the phenomenon of certain flowers attracting certain insects, by just growing in a certain shape and color. Biology and evolution (or god’s perfect design, you pick) makes it so that the bugs and their flowers look the same, so they are enmeshed in an eternal relationship of survival and give-and-take. So it goes with my celebrity interactions.

Or it could just be I hang out in courthouses, where celebrities also frequent.

Last July at the courthouse, this guy winked at my special Lady T. WTF you pansy bitch? I don’t care if you can make squeaky voices.

hank.jpg

Here’s proof that Paul McCartney is an old gay man.

mccartney.jpg

Notice A) his lame cd is being sold at Starbucks B) the fucking stupid look on his face and C) one of the new songs is called “Vintage Clothes,” and it is fucking shitty.

What’s ridiculous to me is how many great reviews this fucking WEAK cd got from all the big reviewers. This shit is WEAK. Rolling Stone and others, stop sucking this guy’s dick, his new songs suck. The old ones were great, but give me a fucking break, do not give this CD a 4/5 or whatever. Bullshit. I heard that song Vintage Clothes when I was getting coffee, and I am not kidding when I say that song is a Grade A piece of shit. Give me a fucking break McCartney. Fucking Macca. What a bitch.

Paul pisses me off. What a fucking nancy. Yoko pisses me off too, while we’re at it. The two stupid bitches fucking wouldn’t get along for 10 minutes so that they could buy the Beatles catalogue. So who gets it? Michael Fucking Jackson…who has now sold a bunch of it to cover his pedophilia lawyers. At least they came together at the LOVE premier in Vegas late last year, but give me a fucking break. Get over yourselves, you old bitches, what’s done is done, why don’t you sell the rest of the Beatles songs to fucking Dick Cheney while we’re at it.

This is really not funny, but…

… it’s still funny as shit.  i told mr dankkkkkkk on the phone already, but you’ll all appreciate this little gold nugget.

sooo, i told you that i work at a school, right?  well, anyways, my boss is out of town — in sri lanka, actually (not doing drugs or getting blowjobs — aka he’s wasting his time), but during this trip, i’ve been running the show in this class that i’m also enrolled in.  ok, so the dean was pissed off that i was in charge and am not a professor, so he made my boss’s boss sit in on the class while he’s out of town.  his reasoning?  and i quote, “what if someone starts stripping in class?  the g.a. [me] can’t be responsible for those liability issues.”  so, my dept. head and i were laughing about that.  i mean, who strips in class?  nobody, right?  i told her i’d rather have some VT type shit pop off than have some lady start ripping her clothes off in class.

ok, so fast forward to last night’s class.  the lecture was going on, and about an hour into the class, we took a break.  i smoked a cig, and on the walk back to the class i see this dude (i’m not saying he was black or anything, but he wasn’t white, hispanic, asian, american indian or pacific islander) walking through the hallway.  i didn’t recognize him, but no big deal. 

so, about 30 minutes later, i see this hand come in the doorway of the class.  it was the same guy, but i didn’t make the connection at the time.  he pulled the door almost shut so it was only opened like 4 or 5 inches, maybe.  i figured he was studying or talking on the phone, and we were distracting him.  again, no big deal.

then, like 10 minutes later, this lady in my class whispered my name from across the room.  i walk over there and sit down.  she says, “there’s this black guy masturbating in the doorway!”  [pffft]  i didn’t know what to think, so i look over there, and sure enough, there he stands, dick in his hands, wacking it in the doorway of my classroom!  right there so this lady has no choice but to look at his junk!  my department head says to me, “call the cops right now.”  so, i go out of the class toward my office.  by this time, the dude has zipped up and is digging it to the exit.  i saw the back of his head, and he was gone. 

 hahahaha.

 so, i called the cops, and they’ve been interviewing me and my classmate all day long!  how funny is that shit?  with all the porn on the internet, this dude is going to wack it in public to a bunch of 40-60 year-old school teachers?!  w….t….fuck?!  that is some deviant shit fo-rizzle.  the cops didn’t catch him, and in my conversations with them over the past day, they’ve had like 4 other reports about him doing the same shit all summer long. 

my hope is that i’ll catch him next time.  i see myself tackling him and kicking him in the balls.  that’d be funny, but what happens if my hand accidentally touches his johnson or ballsack? 

does that make me gay? 

seriously? 

does it? 

cuz…  

i mean…

 (i really am not sure if i can handle that.)

so, anyways, that’s my funny story.  i’ll bet stoney never saw no shit like that in venice beach!  so, for all you easterners, stop packing your bags.  there’s no need to go west.  we’ve got plenty of sick fucks in this part of the country, too.

Alien Sightings and More

the return to the blessed muse,
the vile whore who has so diseased my mind
and tortured my toenails,
the return of the said witch
has inflamed my soul
twisted my hairs and senses on end
i present to you, a beginning
from an old dear hero

A Satyre Against Mankind
john wilmot, earl of rochester

Were I (who to my cost already am
One of those strange, prodigious creatures, man)
A spirit free to choose, for my own share,
What case of flesh and blood I pleased to wear,
I’d be a dog, a monkey, or a bear,
Or anything but that vain animal,
Who is so proud of being rational.

The senses are too gross, and he’ll contrive
A sixth, to contradict the other five,
And before certain instinct, will prefer
Reason, which fifty times for one does err.

Read it all here.

And, for all of you celebrity nuts…DING DING. Yesterday, cruising down the beach on my beach cruiser, I saw an alien posing as a movie-star.

Famous Alien Sighting for Today

I knew she was an alien because she had really big eyes and see-through skin.

Here’s a question for all you Alien lovers. Which famous alien first got The Beatles stoned?