I had heard everyone going on about this “Black Swan” movie, so I figured I’d go check it out with the gift card I had gotten for Christmas. Generally speaking, I hate gift cards, just give me cash, you know? Then I don’t have to go to some lame store that you happened to have been at when you thought you’d pick me up a present. I mean really, when the hell am I going to go to effing Walmart. Have you seen those people?!? Well, at least I could use a movie gift card.
Anywho, so I’m watchin’ the movie, and Princess Amidala is like freaking out and touching herself where her bathing suit covers when this lady behind me starts talking at full volume to the person next to her. I turn and give her “the look,” you know, the look that says “shut up, you inconsiderate whore.” But she keeps right on talking. So of course I fully turn around in my seat in order to properly turn up the glare. She glances at me but doesn’t stop talking.
“Are you kidding me with this?” I ask.
“Aye, guera, whats your problem?” she said with a sneer.
“I understand that this may be a new experience for you, you know, actually going out to watch a movie in an actual theatre, rather than a DVD in the backseat of your “sancho’s” Escalade, but we, the audience, neither need nor want, to hear your conversation. In fact, it’s what we, polite society, refer to as a common courtesy. Now kindly, shut the fuck up.”
“Do we need to take this outside?”
“No, you need to take it outside.” I said as I threw my large soda in her face. She screamed as her painted on eyebrows began to run down the sides of her face. As she ran out of the theatre with her friend, the audience applauded me. The cost of a twenty dollar soda is a small price to pay to be a social vigilante, but worth it.
Unfortunately, by the time I resettled in my seat and turned my attention back to the movie, Princess Amidala was totally scissoring it up with Jackie [from that one show about the 70’s…I forget the name of it]. “Well this makes no sense,” I muttered to myself quietly, if I wanted to see a movie about dancers lezing out, I would have stayed at home at watched “Showgirls.” And as I got up to leave, I noticed the audience was filled with guys. Every last one of them with large buckets of popcorn placed firmly in their laps.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Christmas Wrapping
So last night I was at the mall finishing up my holiday shopping. I was at a loss as to what I should get my friend Pygar, I mean really, what do you get a blind angel? I was wandering aimlessly at the Nordstrom when I spied, on the other side of the store, a lone Hello Kitty toaster on an empty endcap. You know, the one that toasts an image of Hello Kitty on your bread. Adorable… and on sale… so it was perfect.
I bolted across the packed store. In dramatic slowmotion, I lunged over Jermaine Jackson, who had just bent down to look at some luggage. I nearly lost my footing on the landing, and pushed passed Taylor Swift, ironically shoving her into a discount bin while simultaneously blowing Jake Gyllenhaal a kiss. “Call me,” I mouthed, and just as I was able to lay my hands on the little toaster, I was stopped in my tracks my Elizabeth Taylor.
“I’ll take that!” she sneered as she grabbed the toaster
“No way! I saw it first,” I protested, also grabbing the toaster.
“Just try and take it from me,” she growled, pulling the toaster toward her.
“You think you can take me on, sister? I’ve beat the best of’em. I beat down Imelda Marcos at a Payless for a pair of Mary Jane’s, and it wasn’t even a BOGO!” I said as I pulled the toaster in my direction.
“Well, looks like what we have here is a Mexican Standoff,” she said as we glared at each other.
“Indeed,” I added. We stood there, frozen in time, for what felt like an eternity. Wham!’s “Last Christmas” played roughly 15 times in the background.
“You know what, in the spirit of the season, you can have it,” Liz conceded, releasing the toaster.
“Well, you know, that’s really ni—“
“WHITE DIAMONDS!” she screamed and threw dust in my eyes. My hands instinctively went to my eyes, dropping the toaster. I could hear her grabbing the toaster and scuttle off, as I rubbed the dust from my eyes. “Sucka!” I could hear her cackle as she ran off. Sometimes I really hate Christmas.
I bolted across the packed store. In dramatic slowmotion, I lunged over Jermaine Jackson, who had just bent down to look at some luggage. I nearly lost my footing on the landing, and pushed passed Taylor Swift, ironically shoving her into a discount bin while simultaneously blowing Jake Gyllenhaal a kiss. “Call me,” I mouthed, and just as I was able to lay my hands on the little toaster, I was stopped in my tracks my Elizabeth Taylor.
“I’ll take that!” she sneered as she grabbed the toaster
“No way! I saw it first,” I protested, also grabbing the toaster.
“Just try and take it from me,” she growled, pulling the toaster toward her.
“You think you can take me on, sister? I’ve beat the best of’em. I beat down Imelda Marcos at a Payless for a pair of Mary Jane’s, and it wasn’t even a BOGO!” I said as I pulled the toaster in my direction.
“Well, looks like what we have here is a Mexican Standoff,” she said as we glared at each other.
“Indeed,” I added. We stood there, frozen in time, for what felt like an eternity. Wham!’s “Last Christmas” played roughly 15 times in the background.
“You know what, in the spirit of the season, you can have it,” Liz conceded, releasing the toaster.
“Well, you know, that’s really ni—“
“WHITE DIAMONDS!” she screamed and threw dust in my eyes. My hands instinctively went to my eyes, dropping the toaster. I could hear her grabbing the toaster and scuttle off, as I rubbed the dust from my eyes. “Sucka!” I could hear her cackle as she ran off. Sometimes I really hate Christmas.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
My Two Cents: Toy Story 3
So now that I’m on this stupid watch list, I’m only allowed to see movies that are G rated. So I figured I would watch Toy Story 3 on the Netflix and see what all the hubbub is about. Well let me tell you, there is some dark ass shit in there. I mean really, the whole scene where the toys are trapped in the incinerator… there is something extremely dark about watching Kübler-Ross’ “Five Stages of Grief” theories enacted by innocent toys as they slowly approach death… oh poor Bullseye, hes stuck in denial stage… unlike Buzz Lightyear, he shot straight to acceptance! I could have sworn I was watching a lost scene from Ingmar Bergman’s “Winter Light,” except “Winter Light” was less depressing!
But then, the alien toys work the magic claw and save the other toys from the evil volcano and their near fate of being the reincarnated Thetans trapped in Tom Cruise. Thank goodness, I say, at least we don’t have to hear Woody’s Thetan spirit explaining what a “reach around” is to poor Jessie’s Thetan.
And I don’t even want to mention when Buzz gets jail raped by the nursery school toys. I’m pretty shocked that this didn’t get a hard “R” rating. I guess those cats a Pixar can get away with pretty much anything… oh yeah, there are spoilers in my review...
But then, the alien toys work the magic claw and save the other toys from the evil volcano and their near fate of being the reincarnated Thetans trapped in Tom Cruise. Thank goodness, I say, at least we don’t have to hear Woody’s Thetan spirit explaining what a “reach around” is to poor Jessie’s Thetan.
And I don’t even want to mention when Buzz gets jail raped by the nursery school toys. I’m pretty shocked that this didn’t get a hard “R” rating. I guess those cats a Pixar can get away with pretty much anything… oh yeah, there are spoilers in my review...
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
I Shoulda listened to Rebbie Jackson...
I was relaxing on the sofa reading George “Dubya” Bush’s book… who knew he was such a great satirist? This stuff is comedy gold! The lowest point in his presidency was when Kanye West called him a racist! BWAHAHAHA… Hilarious! Sure he could have played it straight and said something like the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, or hell, 9/11, but he went the funny route. And the bit about carrying around Barbie’s miscarried fetus in a jar… seriously, I couldn’t stop laughing… but I digress…
So yeah, I’m all cozy when I hear somebody pounding on the door. I quickly put on my silk bathrobe, the one with the feather trim, not the pink one, but the green one… its after 9:00 and you never know, it could be Ryan Reynolds responding to a certain tweet you sent saying how you’d love to see that Green Lantern costume in person… so I open the door and there are three men in black suits standing stoically on the porch.
“Ma'am, we have a warrant to search the premises and confiscate any computers you may have in your possession,” the Head Goon said
“What? Why?” I protested as two of the goons shoved past me and started searching my house.
“You have been flagged as viewing material on the interweb that is has been categorized as illegal. You are now going to have to register yourself on our watch list.”
“No way, man, the website clearly said that they were all over eighteen!”
“No ma'am, this is not in reference to your visiting Fresh Twinkies dot com, you have been flagged as having viewed ‘The Human Centipede’ in its entirety.”
“But… but… I was just curious to see what all the hub-bub was about-- you can’t be serious!” I said, just as the youngest goon walked up, a look of repulsion on his face. He carried, between his thumb and index finger, a copy of “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”
“Indeed,” the Head Goon mumbled.
“What? I’ve had that book since I was a kid! It’s a first edition! This is crazy, the movie was on Netflix for fucksake!”
“Yes Ma'am, that’s what we refer to as a sting operation,” one of the more handsome goons said as he put my laptop into a plastic bag marked “evidence.”
“Surely we can work something out,” I said, turning toward him, allowing my robe to slip off one of my shoulders.
The Handsome Goon looked at my smooth toned shoulder, then looked me in the eyes, “It’s a movie about a man sewing people together, ass to mouth,” he said as he shoved past me. Then he turned and added, “You disgust me.”
“Seriously, it’s just a movie! Granted one that was hilariously bad while simultaneously being thoroughly disturbing!”
“You can tell it to the judge,” the Head Goon said
“What’s he doing?” I asked, looking past the Head Good at the younger one who was hammering a sign into the grass at the end of my driveway.
“You are required to prominently display that in your front lawn until further notice,” he added, then walked out. After they had left, I walked down the end of my drive way to get a better look at the sign. It was in the shape of a centipede and read “Pervert” in large bright letters. Just then Ryan Reynolds rolled up on his skateboard. He glanced at the sign, then back at me.
“Well then,” he said with a hunger in his voice, “I hope there is a bit of truth in advertising!”
“And I hope your abs aren’t totally CGI,” I said coyly.
“Only one way to find out. Shall we take this inside?” he asked as he pulled a bottle of Strawberry Hill out of a paper bag.
“Lets!” I said, pulling him toward the house. When life hands you lemons, you hook it up with some Boone’s Farm.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Start Wearing Purple
I was on my way to have lunch with my fashion protégé, Tim Gunn [correction, brunch, you know how the gays love their bunches… just cause you roll out of bed late and fancy it up with Mimosas it’s still effing pancakes and waffles… but whatev’]. As I’m rolling up to the valet, I notice everyone is wearing purple.
“Excuse me, young lad, what day is it today?” I say, flagging down a young man who was sashaying gaily by, and by gaily I mean merrily and not “gay-ly,” though he was clearly a queen. “What’s with all the purple? Did Prince explode or something?”
“No, silly goose, its Spirit Day!” he said. Then after reading my blank expression, he continued, “You are supposed to wear purple today to support for the kids that were bullied because they were gay.”
“Shazbot!” I exclaimed, glancing at the clock. “I still have time to make it right!” I then tossed him a shilling and told him to go out and get the finest prize turkey he could find before I sped off.
Unfortunately, luck was not in my favor, as it appeared all of the clothing stores in the neighborhood were not going to open for another two hours. But I was never being one to back down off a challenge [and I don’t mean a fit nubile pool boy named Challenge… though that’s something I wouldn’t back off of either… with his firm pecks and strong arms… wait, now where was I…]. Once I was able to regain focus, I quickly came up with a brilliant idea and I pulled into a liquor store to purchase a large bottle of Crown Royal.
I pulled the bottle out of its purple cloth bag and set it aside, then dumped the contents of my purse into the purple bag, and voila, instant clutch and more importantly, avid cause supporter! Now, what to do with the bottle of whiskey? I very well couldn’t drive around the city with an open bottle in the car! So I popped the bottle open and downed it, its five o’clock somewhere, right?
By the time I arrived back at the restaurant, I was fashionably late, so really, I was on time. Granted I almost took out the valet when I crashed into the podium, but everyone LOVED my fancy new purse, and I was honoring those victims of anti-gay bullying by bringing attention to the matter… and that’s what’s important… [and that I looked fabulous doing it]!
“Excuse me, young lad, what day is it today?” I say, flagging down a young man who was sashaying gaily by, and by gaily I mean merrily and not “gay-ly,” though he was clearly a queen. “What’s with all the purple? Did Prince explode or something?”
“No, silly goose, its Spirit Day!” he said. Then after reading my blank expression, he continued, “You are supposed to wear purple today to support for the kids that were bullied because they were gay.”
“Shazbot!” I exclaimed, glancing at the clock. “I still have time to make it right!” I then tossed him a shilling and told him to go out and get the finest prize turkey he could find before I sped off.
Unfortunately, luck was not in my favor, as it appeared all of the clothing stores in the neighborhood were not going to open for another two hours. But I was never being one to back down off a challenge [and I don’t mean a fit nubile pool boy named Challenge… though that’s something I wouldn’t back off of either… with his firm pecks and strong arms… wait, now where was I…]. Once I was able to regain focus, I quickly came up with a brilliant idea and I pulled into a liquor store to purchase a large bottle of Crown Royal.
I pulled the bottle out of its purple cloth bag and set it aside, then dumped the contents of my purse into the purple bag, and voila, instant clutch and more importantly, avid cause supporter! Now, what to do with the bottle of whiskey? I very well couldn’t drive around the city with an open bottle in the car! So I popped the bottle open and downed it, its five o’clock somewhere, right?
By the time I arrived back at the restaurant, I was fashionably late, so really, I was on time. Granted I almost took out the valet when I crashed into the podium, but everyone LOVED my fancy new purse, and I was honoring those victims of anti-gay bullying by bringing attention to the matter… and that’s what’s important… [and that I looked fabulous doing it]!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Never cross a sleeping angel...
Pygar and I were having a lovely picnic in the park, just soaking up the beautiful day. A slow breeze was meandering through the trees while the sun was shining down from a bright blue sky. Chi-Chi, Pygar's German Shepard frolicked in the grass while Pygar took a little power-nap on the blanket we had laid out. It was so serene that I felt like writing a poem, you know something to really capture the moment.
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," I jotted down in my dream journal. "And sorry I could not travel both." Oh man, this was gonna be some good shit, I thought as I continued to write.
Sadly, my poetic flow was interrupted by the loud whine of a spoiled brat, "But moooom, I don't wanna go to the park, I wanna play on my Gameboy!"
I looked up to see a woman walking down the paved path pushing an 8 year old in a stroller. "Hunter, now you just hush now, we'll be back at the car as soon as we cut through this park.
"This park is stupid and ugly," he said, throwing a candy bar wrapper to the ground. I cut into the brat with my eyes, but the little punk deflected my shade right back at me. By this time, Pygar sat up, his quiet reverie broken.
"Excuse me," I said calmly," but I do believe you dropped something." I pointed to the candy wrapper on the ground. The woman turned and looked at the trash, then threw a sneer in my direction.
"Well I never!" I said, turning to Pygar to find that he had disappeared. I looked back toward the rude lady and brat child to see Pygar materialize in front of them. He leaned down to the stroller with a warm and pleasant smile.
"Sweet child," he started, "you should pause and enjoy this beautiful day. Do you not hear the birds singing? The trees rustling? I can not see these things, but I can feel the beauty, and I can only imagine how fantastic it would be to see it in all of its glory."
"Whatever, this is stupid and you're stupid," the brat spit, while the mother smiled smugly.
Pygar merely paused, smiled, then leaned in a little closer, "Think on this, one day, you will die, and while your body sits in a dark coffin buried deep in the ground the worms will feed on your rotten little carcass. And in turn those worms will help the soil, and all of these beautiful trees with become even more beautiful, but not because of the nutrients from your decayed flesh, but merely because your sorry little ass won't be around any more. But where will you be? Why, you'll be drifting in the black void of nothingness. Can you picture that for me? Absolute. Nothingness."
Tears started to stream down the kid's chocolate covered cheeks while the mother gasped with dismay.
"Oh shut up," Pygar growled, "and pick up your trash, you dumb bitch!" The lady cowered and ran back to the candy wrapper, quickly depositing it into the trashcan.
"And Santa Claus isn't real!" I yelled to the kid as his mother frantically pushed him down the path to get away from us as fast as possible.
"Tea?" Pygar asked, he had already returned to the blanket and was holding a teapot.
"Sounds lovely!"
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," I jotted down in my dream journal. "And sorry I could not travel both." Oh man, this was gonna be some good shit, I thought as I continued to write.
Sadly, my poetic flow was interrupted by the loud whine of a spoiled brat, "But moooom, I don't wanna go to the park, I wanna play on my Gameboy!"
I looked up to see a woman walking down the paved path pushing an 8 year old in a stroller. "Hunter, now you just hush now, we'll be back at the car as soon as we cut through this park.
"This park is stupid and ugly," he said, throwing a candy bar wrapper to the ground. I cut into the brat with my eyes, but the little punk deflected my shade right back at me. By this time, Pygar sat up, his quiet reverie broken.
"Excuse me," I said calmly," but I do believe you dropped something." I pointed to the candy wrapper on the ground. The woman turned and looked at the trash, then threw a sneer in my direction.
"Well I never!" I said, turning to Pygar to find that he had disappeared. I looked back toward the rude lady and brat child to see Pygar materialize in front of them. He leaned down to the stroller with a warm and pleasant smile.
"Sweet child," he started, "you should pause and enjoy this beautiful day. Do you not hear the birds singing? The trees rustling? I can not see these things, but I can feel the beauty, and I can only imagine how fantastic it would be to see it in all of its glory."
"Whatever, this is stupid and you're stupid," the brat spit, while the mother smiled smugly.
Pygar merely paused, smiled, then leaned in a little closer, "Think on this, one day, you will die, and while your body sits in a dark coffin buried deep in the ground the worms will feed on your rotten little carcass. And in turn those worms will help the soil, and all of these beautiful trees with become even more beautiful, but not because of the nutrients from your decayed flesh, but merely because your sorry little ass won't be around any more. But where will you be? Why, you'll be drifting in the black void of nothingness. Can you picture that for me? Absolute. Nothingness."
Tears started to stream down the kid's chocolate covered cheeks while the mother gasped with dismay.
"Oh shut up," Pygar growled, "and pick up your trash, you dumb bitch!" The lady cowered and ran back to the candy wrapper, quickly depositing it into the trashcan.
"And Santa Claus isn't real!" I yelled to the kid as his mother frantically pushed him down the path to get away from us as fast as possible.
"Tea?" Pygar asked, he had already returned to the blanket and was holding a teapot.
"Sounds lovely!"
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Money Cab!
I was leaving Pygar's apartment after getting ready for the premiere of my BFF Angie's new movie [I think its called Pepper... or Curry... I dunno, something like that], and I figured it'd be easier just to take a cab [you know, just in case I hook up with some hottie, I want to make sure he drives me home].
So run downstairs and jump into the waiting cab. Just as I put my seat-belt on all these lights start flashing and shit. Of course I'm thinkin' maybe I'm having a flashback or something, so I try and play it real cool.
"You're in the Money Cab!" the cabbie exclaimed.
"Wait, you're not hot little Ben Bailey," I say to the clearly not Ben Bailey. This cabbie wasn't even cute, actually he looked like a creepy older version of a nameless drag queen who jumped off the top of Pygar's apartment building. "And don't you mean 'Cash Cab?'"
"No, no, this is totally different. But you can still totally win money! So do you wanna play?"
"Sure, why not," I say, after all, if this Skaggs Lady Lee knock off wants to give me money, who am I to argue. "So, this is going to be on TV, huh?" I said nervously, noticing the small camera mounted above the dash.
"Uhm--yeah...! On TV!"
"I'm suddenly feeling a bit anxious," I giggled nervously, concerned about how my hair and make up were.
"I have some Quaaludes if you want?" He offered, holding up a box of Lemonheads.
"You keep 'ludes in a box of Lemonheads?"
"Yeah, its uh... just more convenient. So do you want one?"
"Uhm, no, I think I'll be okay."
"Are you sure?" he said, shaking the box slightly.
"No... thanks... really."
"Well you just let me know if you change your mind. So shall we play the game now?" he asked as we pulled into traffic.
"Yes! Bring it on!" I said rubbing my hands together.
"Okay, the first question is worth 25$! Do you date older men?"
"Well that's a strange question, I thought this was supposed to be general--"
"15 seconds, I need your answer!" he interrupted.
"Yes!" I exclaimed, I get excitable even watching game shows, let alone being on one!
"Good-err, I mean, Correct! The next question is worth 50$. Without looking, what color are your panties?"
"Really, I don't understand the relevance--"
"10 seconds!"
"Damn, I need to use my mobile shout-out," I said. He handed me a mobile phone and asked who I was going to call. "My friend, Pygar, he's an angel."
"Hello?" I heard Pygar say at the other end of the line.
"Pygar, its Frau, I'm in the Money Cab and I need your help with a question. This afternoon, when I was changing at your place, what color panties was I wearing?"
"Frau, first of all, you do realize that I am blind. Secondly, when have you ever worn panties?"
"Of course! Oh Pygar, I could kiss you! Thanks, I'll call you later" I said, hanging up the phone, the to the cabbie, "I'm not wearing any!"
"Oh yes," his said, his voice dropped slightly as the cab swerved a little, "that's the right answer! You are doing so well, can I offer you a Lemonhead?"
"Ooo, yeah, I love Lemonheads!" I said, taking a Lemonhead from the box, "They're way better than stupid Cherry Chan, I mean really, what a racist. You know, these aren't very sour," I added, sucking on the candy.
"Uhm... its because they're super fresh! Next question! For 100$! Are you old enough to vote?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, you lose," he appeared to be genuinely crestfallen.
"But I am old enough to vote!" I protested.
"Yeah... sorry, I'm going to have to kick you out here," he said pulling off to the side of the road.
"But we're on the 405!"
"Sorry, but those are the rules of the game," he said as he drove off.
"Well ain't that a fine 'how do you do,'" I said to myself as I stuck my thumb out to try and hitch a ride. But then my arm started to feel really heavy, and I thought it sounded like a good idea to sit by the side of the road... and maybe rest my eyes a minute. Next thing I knew, I woke up three days later in Palm Springs laying in the back of a car with Jeremy London, an empty bottle of Hennessy, and an eighth of crank.
So run downstairs and jump into the waiting cab. Just as I put my seat-belt on all these lights start flashing and shit. Of course I'm thinkin' maybe I'm having a flashback or something, so I try and play it real cool.
"You're in the Money Cab!" the cabbie exclaimed.
"Wait, you're not hot little Ben Bailey," I say to the clearly not Ben Bailey. This cabbie wasn't even cute, actually he looked like a creepy older version of a nameless drag queen who jumped off the top of Pygar's apartment building. "And don't you mean 'Cash Cab?'"
"No, no, this is totally different. But you can still totally win money! So do you wanna play?"
"Sure, why not," I say, after all, if this Skaggs Lady Lee knock off wants to give me money, who am I to argue. "So, this is going to be on TV, huh?" I said nervously, noticing the small camera mounted above the dash.
"Uhm--yeah...! On TV!"
"I'm suddenly feeling a bit anxious," I giggled nervously, concerned about how my hair and make up were.
"I have some Quaaludes if you want?" He offered, holding up a box of Lemonheads.
"You keep 'ludes in a box of Lemonheads?"
"Yeah, its uh... just more convenient. So do you want one?"
"Uhm, no, I think I'll be okay."
"Are you sure?" he said, shaking the box slightly.
"No... thanks... really."
"Well you just let me know if you change your mind. So shall we play the game now?" he asked as we pulled into traffic.
"Yes! Bring it on!" I said rubbing my hands together.
"Okay, the first question is worth 25$! Do you date older men?"
"Well that's a strange question, I thought this was supposed to be general--"
"15 seconds, I need your answer!" he interrupted.
"Yes!" I exclaimed, I get excitable even watching game shows, let alone being on one!
"Good-err, I mean, Correct! The next question is worth 50$. Without looking, what color are your panties?"
"Really, I don't understand the relevance--"
"10 seconds!"
"Damn, I need to use my mobile shout-out," I said. He handed me a mobile phone and asked who I was going to call. "My friend, Pygar, he's an angel."
"Hello?" I heard Pygar say at the other end of the line.
"Pygar, its Frau, I'm in the Money Cab and I need your help with a question. This afternoon, when I was changing at your place, what color panties was I wearing?"
"Frau, first of all, you do realize that I am blind. Secondly, when have you ever worn panties?"
"Of course! Oh Pygar, I could kiss you! Thanks, I'll call you later" I said, hanging up the phone, the to the cabbie, "I'm not wearing any!"
"Oh yes," his said, his voice dropped slightly as the cab swerved a little, "that's the right answer! You are doing so well, can I offer you a Lemonhead?"
"Ooo, yeah, I love Lemonheads!" I said, taking a Lemonhead from the box, "They're way better than stupid Cherry Chan, I mean really, what a racist. You know, these aren't very sour," I added, sucking on the candy.
"Uhm... its because they're super fresh! Next question! For 100$! Are you old enough to vote?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, you lose," he appeared to be genuinely crestfallen.
"But I am old enough to vote!" I protested.
"Yeah... sorry, I'm going to have to kick you out here," he said pulling off to the side of the road.
"But we're on the 405!"
"Sorry, but those are the rules of the game," he said as he drove off.
"Well ain't that a fine 'how do you do,'" I said to myself as I stuck my thumb out to try and hitch a ride. But then my arm started to feel really heavy, and I thought it sounded like a good idea to sit by the side of the road... and maybe rest my eyes a minute. Next thing I knew, I woke up three days later in Palm Springs laying in the back of a car with Jeremy London, an empty bottle of Hennessy, and an eighth of crank.
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