Vegetarian & Vegan Elites

You know you are eating at a fancy restaurant when they have signs like this on the wall. Personally, I like eating meat, but I've never ever ever ever slept with a woman who is not a vegetarian or vegan elite. The idea of falling into the folds of passion with someone base enough to feed on animal flesh disgusts me, and, frankly, makes it difficult to get aroused - not even a semi.

There you have it, ladies. I only get with elites. Like Shania or Leonardo da Vinci.

(sorry for the poor photos!)

Hanging on the Rim (pt. 2)

Another excerpt from Hanging on the Rim, a soon-to-be published epic poem about existentialism and sports:

...

Hanging on the rim

I speak with the Gods

They see their favorite son and say,

“Chimi, how’s it goin’?”

Hanging on the rim

You might see a banshee

Or you might see an angel

It is hard to tell the difference, sometimes

Hanging on the rim

I never flinch at banshees

They get in my face

They rarely touch it though!

Hanging on the rim

I recall life on the farm before the war

It was a simpler time with early mornings

and long evenings of Champ’s folk songs

Hanging on the rim

Champ, my older brother

In charge of the stables

The H to my M

Hanging on the rim

I can still see the room in the Thai hotel

And Champ covered in blood and mumbling

Something about a stolen organ.

Hanging on the rim

I wish I had a shirt gun

Because I could shoot the shirt pretty far

I think, from the rim.

...

Penis Muscles

Sometimes when I go to gyms in the third world, I stumble upon this familiar poster. It is of my uncle, Judd Kingfisher, and his wife in an 80s ad campaign for steroids, if I remember correctly. He gave me a copy of this poster for Christmas when I was a kid, and it was on my wall all the way through high school.

Imagine how weird it must feel getting boners for your aunt. She was not related by blood, but still, it confused me. Even more difficult was the sheer intimidation of my uncle's sculpted body. That's what I thought was normal. That's what I competed with. Nothing less than a rip like his would be good enough. If you weren't cut, you would never get hot chicks like my aunt.

I remember when I finally surpassed uncle Judd - when my muscles were bigger and I first posed in a poster, with TWO hot chicks. I never gave him that poster; the poster I gave him was of me knocking over defenders as I bulldozed into the endzone for 6 in the All Star game. Uncle Judd was already dead by then. I put the poster on his grave, in honor of the high standard he set for me.

Funny story about uncle Judd. He told me that his junk never shrunk from the steroids. Seriously. He said he was able to counter the shrink with muscles - penis muscles. Then he would squeeze his penis muscles into his shrunken testes, which made everything look normal. That's kind of cool.

Hanging on the Rim

Excerpt from Hanging on the Rim, a soon-to-be published epic poem about existentialism and sports:
...

Hanging on the rim

After the hottest dunk you’ll ever see

An alley-oop from my friend

I got so high, and he's a loser (kind of).

Hanging on the rim

I see a dove fly

He has a crooked wing

That I straighten with the sheer power of excellence.

Hanging on the rim

My mind goes empty

Forgetting my flight across the key

And my opponents below me.

Hanging on the rim

I wonder if those ladies can see up my shorts

It’s far enough from their seats

I blow them kisses.

Hanging on the rim

I think about Africa

There’s a lot of people who can't dunk there

Because they don't know it's Christmas.

Hanging on the rim

It can be lonely, with no family and friends;

Should I wait and hope they’ll someday join me here,

Or should I stop flying?

...