Tuesday, July 31


Recently on this very blog, I confessed to participating in the cesspool of ego and local bands known as MySpace in the hopes of meeting a nice gal or at least one I could lightly fondle in public. Having decided this wasn't the best idea, I tried to figure out something else to do on that infernal place of virtual connections.

As I browsed other users profiles I noticed something besides how obscenely everyone edits their profiles. You could enter in information about what school you attended and then find people who you attended that school with. Wahey! This could be fun! I could see who got really fat, and maybe find that hot girl who I totally blew it with which still hurts me deep to this day and yell out to her, "FUCK STEVE AND FUCK TENNIS! LET'S DO THIS!".(You can read about the dumbest thing I have ever done HERE).

So I excitedly type in my High School and graduation year. I quickly brushed off the depression that came along with realizing 1996 was eons go as the results loaded. A list of about 25 people came up. I quickly scrolled through them while saying stuff like, "Holy Crap," "Who the hell is that," and "I can't believe he is still wearing that kilt." I perused several of the profiles of the people I remembered well and found out interesting things like Steve is now a member of the NYPD and doesn't feel at all weird about having a Kylie Minogue song play on his page.

At this point I began to question what I was doing. Why do I care about seeing these people and talking to them now when neither I nor them thought it was worth staying in contact with each other?

Okay I'm lying. What I really thought was, "Oh jesus. How the hell am I going to message these people who have done something with their lives when I all I have managed to do over the last decade is attain minor celebrity status in various Rate My Picture and BBW chat rooms."

A plan was formulated. I would start off my messaging guys I were pretty close with who were bound to still find me funny and charming in a man-crush sort of way. I selected Kevin who I had actually seen a couple years after High School ended. He now works as a morning radio host in upstate New York. This was going to work out well!

And then my brain happened. It began to tell me that a standard message of "Heylongtimenoseehowseverythingbeensorrywelosttouch" wouldn't cut it. I had to be hilarious and wacky. No no. Zany. yes! Totally Zany!

Hey Man! I dunno if you remember me, but we went to high school together. My name was Ryan. A couple years after School ended I changed it to Princess Starshine, but after a buttload of therapy I changed it back to Ryan. Anyway, wow man you have a radio show now. That's soooo crazy! You know what's weird? One night it was like 3 AM and I was listening to WFAN and I heard the guy on mention his producer Kevin and then the producer Kevin spoke and it was totally you! I was going to call up and give you a Shout Out but I was naked and making fajitas so it really wasn't appropriate. So yeah man cool. We should hang out. Get some mexican. Catch up. Lets Go Mets!"

Shockingly I received no response. There's more, but again this is too effin long. Deal with it.

Friday, July 27

Missle Anius

I sit here once again in the phone bitch seat at work. The smell of pancakes and eggs are wafting from a nearby office. I know some of you people probably think my place of business must be a joke already considering how I am posting long rambling blogs from here, and the fact that a co-worker is doubling as a short order cook here most mornings can't do much to improve that opinion. There are also 3 small children running around in the conference room throwing a beach ball at each other. Sorry, we aren't hiring.

Yeah, Fridays are always slow during the summer. Somehow the weekend has extended into Thursday for many people and businesses. I don't mind really, but things get very dull here and I am forced to find ways to kill time. I hate being in this situation because when there is nothing to do I am left with my thoughts. My brain has a grudge against me. Some times my thoughts are cool, like when I think about how I would kill a polar bear if I had to. Most of the time my thoughts are bad though, like when I think about how a polar bear would kill me if it had to. So usually I resort to IMing people on AIM under my pseudonym ienjoypork.

I'm taking that poll down about Quien Es Mas Macho. The results were entirely inconclusive. Counting one slightly late vote, there was a three way tie for mas macho hombre. The one thing we can be sure of after that vote is that if Ricardo Montalban, Ray Jackson and myself were ever within 5 miles of each other, an entire zip code of women would become instantly impregnated and later give birth to babies with chest hair and fingerless gloves.

*UPDATE* I'm eating pancakes. God, these are good.

Wednesday, July 25

Box Office Gold

You may remember recently I shared with you guys my idea for a blockbuster action movie called Bear Hands: Enter the Ranger. As a result of the terrific response it's been getting at test screenings and desperate need to occupy my mind at the moment, I have decided to come up with some more films that are sure to entertain millions and turn me into a Hollywood mogul.

Today I will share my idea for an urban based comedy (That means the main stars are black people.)

Can You Dig?
The world of paleontology is one of patience, ancient wonders, and uptight old white dudes. That is, until Tyrell Brown showed up. *cue bumpin soundtrack*

Tyrell Brown always liked to dig. Flashback to him as a child in his small yard, standing in a huge hole. He yells for his dad mom to come out side where she sees him holding up a skull he unearthed. His mother's eyes roll back in her heard and she passes out.

Fast forward to current day Montana. A group of paleontologists are at a dig site painstakingly trying to bring up what looks to be a huge find. The group's leader, Edwin VanDerpol, rudely instructs the team on what they should be doing. He seems to be exceptionally tough on the beautiful light-skinned black woman, Jaclyn Monroe. Edwin becomes increasingly agitated at the group's work to the point where he yells, "We are finding history here people! This is serious! This is not some kind of party!!"

Right as that last sentence ends a loud and hilarious car horn is heard. All the paleontologists turn to see Tyrell Brown approaching in his personal custom bulldozer. He parks near by, jumps out of it and says, "What's up y'all! Where the Dinosaurs at!" This is when the world of paleontology gets flipped turned upside down on it's dusty old head.

Tyrell gets under Edwin's skin immediately by calling him Eddie repeatedly. He is immediately attracted to Jaclyn who at first turns back all his advances even though she finds them funny and somewhat charming. Tyrell also becomes friends with another member of the group named Charles Duggan, who seems to have never seen a black person before, but is ready to adopt his mannerisms.

Tyrell will antagonize Edwin through a series of comical events, such as attempting to dig up an Iguanadon skull with his bulldozer, which leads to Edwin plotting to get rid of Tyrell by planting trilobite fossils in his jacket pocket and accusing him of stealing them. As this goes on, Tyrell continues to woo the lady Jaclyn with his sparkling personality and amazing lines such as:

Tyrell - "They used to call me Triceratops back in my hood"
Jaclyn -"really? Why is that?"
Tyrell - "Cause me so horny, girl"

Obviously she, like any woman would, eventually succumbs to his charms. Also throughout the movie Charles will start to try and talk like Tyrell in a hilarious "lame white guy trying to talk like he is black" manner. Eventually he will insist on being called C-Dog and helps Tyrell clear his name and dump a huge pile of dirt on Edwin at the end of the movie. Tyrell will then lean over to Edwin and say, "Hey Eddie! Can ya dig?"


I'm open to casting suggestions on this, but I am pretty sure Jaclyn will be played by the lovely Garcelle Beauvais because I love her and her name is fun to say.

I do worry thatthis movie may just reinforce negative stereotypes in the minds of the audience, but after watching a bunch of these kinds of movies that seems to be the main purpose of them.

Monday, July 23

That's not the ticket

Last week it was made very clear to me that lying is wrong. I always knew it wasn't the nicest thing, but the evil of it is now etched into the folds of my mind.

I have always been pretty free with the lying. Whether it be tiny white lies like, "Yes those are Bugle Boy Jeans I'm wearing" or big ones like, "No I have definitely been going to all my classes Dad" they have always been quick to come out of my mouth.

Now that I have been shown the error of my ways, I feel a great amount of guilt. I must rid myself of this burden by confessing things here which I have lied about and swear to never do it again. And away we go!

"About seven and a half"
Just getting the obvious out of the way quickly.

"Yeah John, I saw Moonraker, but it was a while ago."
I didn't really see Moonraker at all. I said it was a while ago to cover up my total lack of knowledge about what it was about.I don't even know why I lied about this.

"Oh hey. I just got back from the gym."
No I didn't. I was in my house all day eating leftover birthday cake.

"I'm sorry! It was that earthquake. It threw me off! I know where it's supposed to go!"
There was no earthquake. It was bad aim. And I really wasn't sorry.

"I have no idea where that Bryan Adams Greatest Hits CD came from"
It came from f.y.e. where I bought it, and when the feeling's right I'm gonna run all night. I'm gonna run to you.

"The last book I read was On the Road by Jack Kerouac"
The last book I read was Frog and Toad are Friends by Arnold Lobel.

"Sorry I'm late. The bus broke down on the way to the ferry."
The bus didn't break down. I'm late because as I was on the ferry I realized I didn't have any underwear on, and went home to get some because I was paranoid this would be the day someone decided to run up and pants me.

"I got rid of all my jean shorts."
I hate myself

This is going to be tougher than I thought.

Thursday, July 19

Pork Fried Idiot

Recently, during one of the numerous little comas I slip into during the day, I remembered a story I wanted to post here on this very blog page. Brace yourself, for the shame will scissor kick me in the face with the very first sentence.

So I met this girl on myspace, right. jqne9os3h9sr02bnr9rhr2

Ok so there I was on MySpace, delving into the world of social networking. As you all know the process of social networking involves searching for people who live near you that you think will look as good in real life as they do in their bizarrely angled photos. My strategy was to find a young lass who appeared to be attractive enough that I would want to make out with her, but at the same time not attractive enough that she would instantly know she was too good for me. I prefer women find that out after we make intercourse.

I wind up exchanging private messages with a girl named Debbie who was about a year older than me. I was worried she wouldn't respond at first because my first message contained the sentence, "I didn't know anyone under 45 was named Debbie these days." However, she found me quite amusing and after about a week or so of messaging each other, we decided we should meet up for some dinner and perhaps some hanging out. My first mistake was agreeing to go for Chinese food. I am a picky bitch when it comes to eating and there aren't many things I like at a chinese food place, but it was within walking distance of where I was so I took the lazy way out.

As I think back I get terrible douche chills because there is a distinct possibility I wore jean shorts for this date as well. The memory is hazy so I will assume I had jean longs on this time. I stand outside waiting for her at the restaurant feeling strangely calm. Usually I would be a walking nerve trembling in the neon glow of the Chang's Dynasty sign. Debbie popped up out of nowhere. I failed to see her walking towards me because I was too busy staring down wondering if the shirt I had on made my A-cups look noticeable. She didn't projectile vomit immediately, so we exchanged our salutations and got a table inside.

Chang's was mostly empty at this point of the night. I immediately scoured the menu for something that I would find edible so I wouldn't embarrass myself by telling the waiter, "Yeah I'll have the beef with broccoli, but can you hold the broccoli?" The conversation was borderline sparkling and I felt a pretty decent vibe going on. The waiter showed up and Debbie said, "I'm not that hungry I'll just have a small Tung Po Wok." Okay i don't remember what the hell she ordered. The point is, she wasn't having a real dinner, so now I could order some side dishes or appetizers that I actually liked!

"Yeah i think I'll just get some pork fried rice and some spare ribs," came out of my mouth with much glee.

Only about fifteen minutes or so of breezy conversation passed before the waiter returned with our food. He put down her Bun Chi Pai Man first, and then my plateof spare ribs. What followed however was a bit of a surprise. In the middle of the table the waiter placed this large serving bowl thing with a cover. When he removed said cover my face dropped at the sight of about 7 pounds of pork fried rice!

What the hell?! Did he think I wanted to eat this much rice? Oh God, did she think I wanted to eat this much rice? Shit it has scrambled eggs in it! I don't like eggs!

My coolness is completely shot now. I nervously spend the rest of the dinner eating from the giant rice pile whose presence in our country could only mean several small villages in China were starving that week. I begin to wonder if she thinks I'm weird for avoiding all the eggs. I also begin to realize how difficult it is to eat ribs while trying to look attractive and appealing to your date.

Eventually the eon that was dinner came to an end. The waiter came to take our plates and asked me if I wanted him to wrap up the bucket of rice that was still left there. "yeah sure," I blurted out without any thought. Whoops. Now I'm worrying she thinks I am some crazed rice fiend who sits at home watching movies while eating hand fulls of rice instead of popcorn. Ugh!

After dinner she suggests we go to get coffee. I don't drink coffee, but I agree. We sat around this coffee shop chatting away about nothing too interesting. It was alright.

We pulled up in front of my house in her car. I had a glimmer of hope Debbie might want to hang again. You never know. I tell her we should do this again some time and she says sure. As I get out of the car she reminds me that I have a garbage sack filled with rice in the car. I cringed and couldn't even bring myself to turn all the way around to fuck myself over with, "Oh nah you take it! it's the least I can do." And then I ran into my house.


After a couple of days Debbie informed me via MySpace private message that she didn't think going out again would be a good idea. That's fine I understood. However I thought it was a bit much when she posted a blog on her myspace page titled "Why Do I Always Attract Weirdos."

Wednesday, July 18

So Fucking What? (Again)

This morning someone at the office called me immature because they farted and I couldn't stop laughing and saying, "Hey Toots! Where's the Maytals?"

So fucking what?

I mean sure I do some things that may not be acting my age, but just because I spent an hour at work yesterday daydreaming about candy, doesn't mean I'm some kind of big man baby.

You think you're better than me because I don't call my friends to ask them if they want to hang out? I just show up at their house and ring the doorbell. You're not better than me asshole. I prefer face to face contact is all, pal.

And big effin deal if I couldn't stop laughing while my best friend drew me a drawing of a vagina once so I'd know what I was doing for a change. That's not that childish. And if that didn't happen I would have never known that women actually have a separate pee hole, for peeing. You can't say you haven't been in that situation before.

So I guess now I'm some kind of giant mutant toddler stumbling around in Osh Kosh B'Gosh because my favorite food is a McNugget, and I plan my sleeping schedule around cartoons.

And don't try to pretend like you haven't also fantasized obsessively about one day owning your very own ball pit. They are fucking cool and fun to play in. You can't deny that.

I'm a grown ass man y'all.

I gotta stop now and go back to seeing if anyone wants to get a game of manhunt going this weekend.

Monday, July 16

The time I tried to mug someone

Twas not so long ago that I found myself in a bit of a financial jam. I was young and naive, as opposed to now when I am just naive. I won't get into too much detail, but through a series of bad business decisions, such as thinking my miniature schnauzer had a career in dogfighting, I found myself owing more money than I could afford to this guy everyone in my neighborhood knew as "Possum Tony."

Possum Tony was a very large dude. He was so large that, if you saw him from about 50 yards away, you'd say, "Weird, that brick wall looks like it's scratching it's ass." Now I'm sure you're wondering how the hell he got a nickname like Possum Tony. Well, oddly enough this guy had pet Opossums, which was weird because he normally didn't like Irish people. Ugh. Anyway, when his possums gave birth he got the idea that he could carry the babies around in his chest hair. It was probably the stupidest idea anyone had ever heard of, but no one had the balls to tell him that because we were all very attached to having our testicles in their normal spot and not slung over a telephone wire like a pair of mystery sneakers.

So there I was, dangerously close to having my fingers snapped off and fed to chest hair rodents. I had no way to scrounge up enough money in time because I was lazy and didn't feel like getting a job. Being the master of brilliant ideas that I am, I decided the only way to get the money I needed was by stealing it. A bank heist would have been ideal, but I don't have a gun or any kind of cool Halloween mask to wear during it. "Hey! Mugging someone is easy. If I do that a couple times I could probably get enough money to save my hide," was the thought that my fantastic brain then gave birth to.

After extensive planning and preparation that included cutting eye holes in a ski hat because I didn't have a ski mask, I went out with the goal of making my first foray into a life of crime. I picked out this excellent bush to hide behind and waited for a ripe target to get off the bus and start walking home. I passed on the first 3 people who walked by because two of them were large and the other one was my dad. "I better wait for a woman or some kind of midget to come by," I thought to myself.

Forty-five minutes later a short middle aged man came ambling down the sidewalk. This was my golden chance. I could definitely take this dude, and his suit was pretty snazzy so he had to have lots of cash on him. I pounced out right in front of him like a deadly puma and yelled...

Gimme some money man!
Him: "No Way! Get lost you bum!"
Me: "What? I'm not a bum I'm stealing your wallet!"
Him: "I'm not giving you shit mother fucker!"
Me: "C'mon man just give it to me!"
Him: "No!Get out of my way!"
Right here he shoved me to the side and began walking briskly away from me.
Me: "C'mon! I need it! PLEASE?"

He turned the corner and thus ended my career as a professional thief. Things didn't go so well as you can see which is weird because in Warcraft I'm like a lvl 50 rogue and I rule peoples faces all the live long day. If I had to do things over again I would have probably been much more forceful and physical with the guy. Threatening him would have helped. Also, I don't think muggers usually say please. And lastly I would have remember to cut a mouth hole into my hat.

I will finish the Possum Tony stuff another time if anyone cares. Strangely enough it ends in an amazingly similar way to the Battle of Gondor in The Lord of the Rings.

Friday, July 13

Poll White Trash

I wanted to test out this fancy new feature i saw advertised on the blogger page. If you will turn your attention to the right side of the page you will see a poll. In order to help you make an informed choice on this issue that is currently dividing our country, I will provide some data.

Ricardo Montalban - He gains big macho points for being both an intergalactic pectoral warrior and the undisputed dictator of Fantasy Island. Ricardo went head to head with both Captain Kirk and Lt. Frank Drebin, although he came up just short both times. Being of spanish descent raises him several machismo levels automatically.

Ray Jackson - Ray, pictured here wishing he wasn't standing next to nancy boy gymnast Van Damme, has numerous manly qualities that puts him high on the list of mas macho. He has a beard. He is from Texas. He wears Harley Davidson shirts. Ray participated in the Kumite in the dangerous underbelly of Hong Kong where he had managed to do some damage to the previous champion, Chon Li but unfortunately suffered heavy wounds because he stopped fighting to shout "TEXAS" at the crowd. Also remember he was the muscle of the Alpha Beta fraternity back in his college days.

Me - I am covered in the manliest of hairs. I have a chest wig that would make Chuck Norris feel insecure and womanly. One time I hip-thrust my erection through a small, but sturdy, brick wall. I've watched Billy Jack 37 times, and I go to work dressed like Clint Eastwood in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Also I don't speak French well at all. This is a picture of me after I found out someone broke my power saw.

Choose wisely.

Thursday, July 12

Summer Blockbuster

It's a bad sign I am posting a blog so early. Unfortunately due to everyone but me having 97 vacation days, I have been relegated to front desk bitch because I'm the only one here who knows how to transfer a phone call. Already after 10 minutes I am out of things to do, so here we are. Since right now I hate my job more than usual, I have been thinking of how I can make money with very little effort. Since my co-worker just explained to me the problems that would be involved in making unicorn skin boots, I will move on to thinking about ideas for movies. I have several scripts shucking and jiving around in my brain. This is one such idea.

Bear Hands: Enter the Ranger
Steve Montross is a mild mannered park ranger with a loving wife and two children. He is a peaceful man who enjoys spending his days educating others about the wonders of nature. Then one fateful day, everything changes.

A group of evil campers show up at the park. They play their music too loud, litter like maniacs, and tear up the ground with their large trucks. When Ranger Montross confronts the campers they just laugh and throw beer cans at his head. Undaunted by this, Steve attempts to instruct them on the proper way to set controlled fires. The ringleader of the campers, the evil dark lord Bobby Ray yells, "Conserve this!!" as he grabs a squirrel and tosses it into the fire while ! Ranger Montross rushes towards the blaze and thrusts his hands in to try and recover the squirrel. He manages to yank the little creature out of the fire and runs to the river to put out the flames and passes out on the shore with his hands and forearms charred to the bone.

When Ranger Montross comes to he finds himself in a hospital bed with his wife standing over him crying. When he reaches out to comfort her she screams, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" As she turns around and runs out of the room, Steve reaches out to tell her to comeback but stops when he notices his hands, or that is what used to be his hands!!! (DUN DUN DUN) All he sees are two huge fur covered paws. When the doctors come in they tell him that his hands were burned beyond recognition when he tried to save the squirrel, and the doctors had no choice but to replace them with the hands of a grizzly bear.

Now Steve Montross returns to his job as Park Ranger. However he is no longer the same man he used to be. He is a man who can no longer hold his children as he once did. A man who can no longer touch his wife in a husbandly way. A man who can no longer hold a pencil. A man twisted by fate into a force of nature. He now uses his new found powers to protect the one thing he has left, his park. For he is BEAR HANDS.

Ok so there you have it. Don't worry I didn't give away anything cool. However I will tell you there is a scene where Steve tries to masturbate that will tug at your heart strings. I'm hoping for a big Summer 2009 release. As far as casting goes I picture Ryan Gosling as Ranger Montross, Sir Anthony Hopkins as Bobby Ray and Sam Elliot and K-Non, the mysterious park hermit and mentor to Ranger Steve.

Oh and for the one scumbag out there who I know reads this blog every day( I wont mention any names but it starts with an S and ends with a teven Spielberg), if you steal another one of my movie ideas I will send you the most hurtful letter ever.

Monday, July 9

Does this smell funny to you?

It is hot. Damn hot. So hot that Kool and the Gang would have to change their name to Motherfucking Sweltering and the Gang. Hotter than the underside of James Gandolfini's tits while he vacations in El Salvador. Ok I'm done. If it wasn't for all the tall margaritas running around, I would never leave the house on a day such as this.

I dread coming into work on days like today because a large chunk of my day is spent outside, and I have to always wear work type clothes. If only jean shorts and Bart Simpson t-shirts were considered professional wear. I would be literally and figuratively chill. But NOOOOOOOO! When will humanity learn the error of it's prejudice ways? *Ryan shakes his head in disgust*

So there I am sitting on the Ferry to Manhattan when a startling and horrifying thought creeps into my head.

"Did I remember to put deodorant on this morning?"

Oh fuck! It's already a sweltering 86 degrees out and the humidity makes it feel like you are walking through a wet paper towel. In normal situations I sweat at almost Patrick Ewing levels, so if I allowed myself to slip into a B.O. panic attack, I would wind up wetter than Rosie O'Donnell at a Hawaiian Tropic clambake. What the fuck? I still had to finish the boat ride and venture into the oven known as the South Ferry Subway station. Without chalky protection in my stink divots, by the time I got to work I would be a walking biological weapon.

There was still a glimmer of hope that I had simply forgot I had applied my Old Spice. I needed to do a sniff test to find out. So I casually acted like I was scratching my shoulder and plunged my proboscis into the danger zone. *sniff sniff* My normal body odor is very similar to the smell one would find in an unkempt butcher shop, but that was not present. It didn't mean I was safe. The stink just be moving slowly while penetration the hair force field of my underarms. I had to be certain.

If I could just get my finger in there I would be able to find out if any deodorant was present on the scene. Because I am a rebel and poo poo that silly thing known as common sense, it didn't occur to me that I could go to the bathroom to complete this maneuver. Instead I unbuttoned the top button of my button down shirt and very slowly stuck my hand inside towards my armpit. Once I hit pay dirt I swabbed around for a split second and yanked my hand back out. I quickly began smelling my finger to find out what my situation was. A smile crept across my face as I recognized that sweet sweet smell of soap and old time mariners. YES! I RULE!

Twas at this point in our tale where I began to notice no less than four fellow commuters staring at me in disgust. At first I was shamed, then I became angry and full of pride, and I wanted to give them the finger. The Old Spice finger! Then I remembered that I am a vagina and returned to my normal thoughts of giving erotic massages to my favorite female basketball players. Mmm...T-Spoon.

Thursday, July 5


I have long dreamed of having a hairstyle that would make people think I am wearing a toupee. Everyone would come up to me and say, "Hey man you're not fooling anyone with that thing." To which I would respond, "I'm sorry sire, but you are incorrect. I simply choose to style my hair in a wig-like fashion."

My loins are set ablaze by good looking Asian women who talk like Valley Girls. It also helps if they can identify the main characters of Dragonball Z.

I saw Transformers yesterday. However, they ignored my pleas for help and remained in their vehicle form.

The movie was better than I thought it would be. I could have used more sniveling from Starscream and some Soundwave action though.

Back in High School there was this cute girl named Cindy that unfortunately became known for farting in front of class on more than one occasion . After months of being called "Windy Cindy" she become very depressed. One day someone burst into my english class and told us that Cindy was spotted on top of the school. Being the heroic young buck that I was at the time, I raced up to the roof with a plan in mind and yelled out, "Cindy! Will you go out with me!" I figured me asking her on a date up there on the roof would give her a little ego boost and help her get over her public gas issues, but the bitch blew me off.

I should be shot.

Monday, July 2

K. Ohhh Shit!

Normally, black on black violence weighs heavy on my heart. However, I can't stop watching this.

This was the 11th round conclusion to a very good Cruiserweight fight that took place on Staten Island last Friday night. The gentleman taking a nap is Emmanuel Nwodo, and the fellow putting him to sleep is Darnell "Ding-A-Ling-Man" Wilson. Amazingly Nwodo was able to stand up and walk out of the ring of his own accord.

I need to think of a cool nickname like that just in case I decide to become a professional prize-fighter. So far I got "Ham Hands" or "Flip Da Switch Yo"

A Tour de Force

The sun is shining, the people are bustling and the jackhammers are jackhammering. Tis another wondrous and magical summer day in the city.
As usual I spent the morning outside on patrol. Keeping my eyes peeled for happenings that are transpiring. I figured I would take some photographs with my mobile cellular phone and share them with you for it is easy and I don't have to write very much.

This is how I commute to work. It is my sweet ass 2007 limited edition baby blue Faggio. I had to have it shipped up via truck from Vice City, but man oh man was it worth it. So what if it takes me 3 and a half hours to commute? I look so stylin' riding this bad boy, the more time spent on it the better. Oh and it's completely safe for me to leave it outside on the sidewalk like that. Everyone around here knows better than to mess with ol Ry-Dawg.

These construction of two buildings cause me much concern. I think we all remember that ancient Celtic prophecy we had to read back in elementary school that said, "When the spires are completed and reach up into the heavens, Orchulaibhaile the Red, lord of the clouds and all things ginger, shall reign down his freckled fury upon man for his effrontery and hubris."

I have dropped off countless letters into this mailbox and have yet to receive any sex.

One of the fastest growing problems in this city are clandestine midget BJ booths.

You can imagine my shock and dismay as I walk down 37th St. and see there standing completely naked in a window my ex-girlfriend Susan. Our break up was difficult on her, but I had no idea she would sink so low as to put herself on display like some dutch whore. She just stood there staring off into space, not even acknowledging I was there. She must be on drugs. Even more shocking is that her twin sister, who I had a steamy adult affair with, was also there selling her "goods."
As you can see, the isle of Manhattan is truly a place where excitement and mystery run through the streets in mariachi outfits yelling, "Hey everybody! Check us out!"