Chi-Chi is a party animal. Actually, Chi-Chi is the party animal. Remember Bluto from Animal House? He was modeled after my friend. All of Tom Hanks' pals from Bachelor Party? Amateurs. Balki, from Perfect Strangers?... Well, he knew how to get down with his bad self, but Balki was even cooler than Urkel. That's a tall order right there. Chi-Chi never went to college, but he still majored in "Zany Alcoholism" and minored in "Women's Sexual Reproduction". I've known the man since high school and he hasn't changed a bit. Except for the mascot raping. He doesn't do that every week night anymore. Though it did take a major intervention from us to cut that behavior down a notch. He still likes to go out on Friday nights and then try to find his way back home on Saturdays through Thursdays so that he can "kick it wild fire rugged" again on the following Friday. That one time that we found ourselves in the middle of that illegal peyote farm in central Nicaragua during the guerrilla attack and Molly Hatchet concert on one sweet Saturday morning in May is always a great story to tell. The first time I met Chi-Chi was during Driver's Ed. our sophomore year at East Bumblefuck High. Everybody in our class had driven the car slower than hell around the cones in order to make the teacher believe that they were all actually good motorists. But then Chi-Chi showed up with a raging hangover (for all I know he could have still been drunk) and plopped himself in the driver's seat. He apparently thought he was playing Ridge Racer or something cause he was spinning around, weaving and skidding through the course like DeNiro in that car chase scene in Ronin... only Ronin wasn't made yet at that time. Chi-Chi only pulled the car over after he ran the fuck over Ms. Mildowski and claimed that that was good for thirty thousand points, which would be a new record. I still disagree with him though. She was only worth 5,000 tops. Now, if he had kept himself from vomiting and had he actually thrown the vehicle into reverse to tag her again, then maybe I could see 30,000. But as it stood that was a pretty bogus call.
Since high school Chi-Chi has not even set one goal for himself. Well, one realistic goal for himself. He does plan to fuck Claudia Schiffer up the ass while his date to the Prom watches in one of those seats that they used on Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange. Although I can't condone those thoughts, I think it would make a great porno... You see! Right there, that's what I'm talking about. I just thought that "porno" thing up, but Chi-Chi was willing to do a half ass job with his interpretation. Just a little more thought and a few cameras and he could make some money off of his fantasy. Another problem that Chi-Chi has that he may even consider a strength is his ability to produce alcohol out of thin air. It is amazing, I'll give him that, but it is frightening at the same time. It's kinda like watching David Blaine make a dove appear out of his ass while he fucks a gay poodle that's floating two feet above the ground as he sits on a big chunk of ice. Yeah, it's kinda cool to bear witness to, but when you think about it you understand just how unnatural it really is, and that evil powers must be at work somewhere behind the proverbial curtain of mystery. I once asked Chi-Chi where he learned to materialize all those bottles of Rum and Scotch that just appeared next to him during our graduation ceremony, but all he did was laugh like Muttley the Dog on Wacky Races until stuff came shooting out of his nose. All kinds of stuff. Very scary stuff.
So, is the world a better place with Chi-Chi in it? I'd have to say "Fuck yeah". First of all, without Chi-Chi I would know nothing of Clown Parties. I would not know how sweet Killian's Irish Red truly is and how if the gods of old had urinated upon the Earth it surely would have tasted like that amber, rich brew. And most of all if not for Chi-Chi I would not have had a kick ass time in high school, which would have led to a non party life in college, which in turn would have meant no desire to create this awesome web site, which then would mean that you'd just be sitting there looking at a blank computer screen where therossman.com should have been. So all of you guys and gals out there owe Chi-Chi everything!! Sure, his breath corrodes Robot Pedro's metal skin. Yes, he pisses Carl off on occasion and then disappears leaving me to deal with his wrath and a bunch of holes in my wall. And of course he has flashbacks to when the Wolfman and I stole the tires off of his car and put a lit piece of cloth in his gas tank on April 1st our senior year in H.S. which causes him to go into violent spurts of binge drinking and heavy puking on my carpet and furniture and curtains and appliances. But he believes that I am the rightful heir to be the next King of the Universe, and he likes to put out his cigarettes on the faces of non-Rossman worshipers. That is always a good thing.
Chi-Chi Quote: "Oh my Goooood. I feel like my head threw up... in my pants..." |
