Note to self 148: 07/10/2001

Kuni, the Wolfman, Robot Pedro and I went movie hopping this weekend. Normally, screwing over the greedy theater owners and penny-pinching studios is a fun thing. But thanks to some un-choice film selections it turned out to be a pretty painful experience this time around. You see, we let Robot Pedro choose the first movie. He chose Cats and Dogs. We thought that he might have heard a good review or something about it and that it was better than it looked in the previews. It HAD to be better than the previews. Well, Cats and Dogs is pure kiddie crap. I guess they could have made it a decent movie if they had left out Jeff Goldblum and that lowsy and annoying kid actor (aren't they all). John Lovitz as the hench-cat was the only thing that made me laugh.... I can't believe I actually admitted that I liked something in that flick. Urgh!!! Anyway, it turned out that Robot Pedro only wanted to see C&D because he thought it was a Korean cooking movie. He was the most pissed off out of all of us. When the kid in the film tried to emit any sort of emotion I could hear Robot Pedro's gears clicking away in anger.

After that, we let Kuni pick the next movie and we snuck into the theater showing Kiss of the Dragon. Holy shit.... This was an even bigger disappointment than C&D! At least I didn't have any preconceived notions about that dung heap. I may not be the biggest Jet Li fan, but I know that the dude can move like a cat when he wants to and that he can make a kick ass movie just by kicking ass for 90 minutes and taking no prisoners. Well, in KotD he does kick a little ass, but it's basically the bad bad plot that kicks Jet's posterior the whole time. And Bridget Fonda didn't help things much herself. Plot synopsis: Jet goes to Paris to help Parisian police catch a Chinese criminal in the act of doing something illegal (never explained). Bad French policeman (aren't they all) has the Chinese criminal killed (why?... never explained) and frames Jet, then tries to kill him (this has apparently happened to 5 other Chinese cops who've come to Paris previously... yet nobody catches on). Then Jet meets up with an American hooker with a daughter whom the bad Frenchie villain has in his custody. Jet kills a lot of people and everybody is happy despite the fact that an entire precinct of French police officers is dead at Jet's hands and about 100 Chinese embassadors blown away throughout the movie have not been resurrected.

Well, Robot Pedro actually walked out halfway through KotD despite all the killing (shows you how painful it truly was), but Kuni thought it was the greatest martial arts flick since The Flying Daggers (which I'm still waiting for a DVD release of dammit!). The Wolfman and I beat Kuni up in the mens room and used him as a plunger in an unflushed toilet till the next movie began. This time it was the Wolfman's choice and he picked Scary Movie 2. I enjoyed the first one the first time I saw it, so I thought the sequel would be okey-dokey. I liked how they brought back characters from the first one who were already killed several times without explaining it, and the beyond pointless opening with Rev. James Woods was the funniest fucking thing I've seen since Pootie Tang just two weeks ago. Lots of bodily fluid humor and pot jokes too, so you know that the Wolfman liked it. Kuni kept complaining that there were no Asians in the movie which got Robot Pedro bitching about the lack of robots. Then they started a huge and pathetic "rumble" (where Kuni would slap Robot Pedro daintily and run away and Pedro would try and step on Kuni's head) which caused the Theater Fuzz to be called on us. We were asked for our tickets, and then thrown out when we could only produce forgeries that I had quickly drawn up when Kuni started crying like a whore when the Wolfman sprayed Mr. Pibb on him from his straw. After spending all damn day in at the movies I didn't even get to see one really damn good movie. I hate those guys.

Note to self 147: 07/05/2001

Now that is what I call a 4th of July Celebration!!! It all started when Chi-Chi, the Wolfman and I were invited over to Dazzling Dave's and Dan's place for a holiday bar-b-que (well, we really just intercepted a call for my sister, but we took it as "fate stepping in"). We showed up with a bunch of empty stomachs and a keg. Sure, the keg may have been void of beer, but it fooled them into letting us in. The Wolfman and I took Dave to the supermarket so that he could get a bunch of ingredients to make us a super cool "Iron Chef Feast of Festivities" for dinner. See, The Dazzling Dave if a world-class chef who works at the only 5-star restaurant in town. And since my buddies and I are banned from it for the next 6 years the only way we can try his cuisine is to force him to cook for us on his time off. Anyway, we left Dave at the register and warmed up the car. He was a little pissed, but I firmly believe that the $108.42 that he paid for the food would definitely be fully appreciated by his starving friends and acquaintances. He tried to jump out the window a few times on the way home, but the Wolfman kept grabbing the back of his neck with his ogre-sized hands and yanking him back inside.

Long story short: a great feast commenced! The newly married Josh and Leah came back for the celebration. Dave tried to poison me again (but I learned a while ago to let their dog or my sister be my food tester). Kiffhad to rush the pooch to the emergency room again. Josh stabbed Chi-Chi a few times in the heart with a cheese grater for wearing mirrors on his shoes around his wife. The Wolfman pulled his fireworks stash out of hiding and we had an all out pyrotechnics war with the rednecks next door (it was a draw up until I took about fifty M-80s, wired them all together and stuffed them in the neighbor's Jeep's gas tank). Sang the national anthem as the red Wrangler launched itself into the sky and exploded into an array of colors and sounds. Then we ran like hell when the cops and the fire department came to put out the brush fires and houses that ignited when the Jeep went "baddaboom". It was sweeeet!! I promised Kuni that next year we'd let him out of the emptied keg if he was good.

Note to self 146: 06/28/2001

Ahhhh! That wonderful time of the year when the office softball team comes together in a hodge-podge of pain, sweat, loss and humiliation. Our team had its first game on Monday and we played just like we work.... Like chimps on crack. We were doing fine throughout warm up but then the game started and people got set on fire and gunplay reared its ugly head again. We were almost immediately disqualified for the shootings but Robot Pedro was smart and hid the gun in the other team pitcher's car. Anyway, after the first two innings the score was 9-0 (them) and our office was starting to get frazzled. Bats were being swung at the catcher and the umpire (which ultimately did get us a run), and people were charging the bases like a rhino with a pole up its ass (We took out their second and third base people with surgical precision!). But then they started to get serious. They got 15 more runs in the 5th and then the mercy rule was put into effect. Unfortunately for the other team it was our time to fuck mercy and kill them. Angry Amy led the charge against them as she kicked the left outfielder between the legs and made him barf up his cup! Then Robot Pedro and Carl launched the infielders onto the highway behind the park and practiced their swings on the head umpire's Dodge Durango. I left after tossing a few Molotov Coctails at the spectators so I don't really know how it all ended, but the paper this morning said something about intramural sports being banned from the University for at least five years while a police investigation continues. I have to find out if practice tonight was cancelled too.

Note to self 145: 06/22/2001

I'm a little pissed today. I heard on CNN this morning that some dude in California or someplace was convicted of being cool. He was sentenced to several years in jail for being a role model to our children. What happened, you ask? Well, a year ago some ass reamer crashed into this guy's car on the highway. The rugged man got out and went to the goat fucker's door to ask him where he learned how to drive. Well, when he looked in the window of the pussy who rear ended him he saw that he had one of those little gay lap dogs on his lap. And, being the cool dude that he was, the guy grabbed the little shit-eating canine and threw him into the freeway traffic behind him where the little fluffy pooch never even hit the concrete. He was splattered all over the place just like that rabbit that got into the Nascar race a while back. Anyway, some jury filled with fags and women (egged on by PETA and shit) convicted the guy of hurting one of God's annoying creatures. What the jury failed to see though was that the dude who threw the puppy into the grill of a semi was actually freeing it from evil! You know that the sickos that own tiny dogs like that only have them in order to teach them to do extremely perverted things (like retrieving car keys out of body orifices and licking any part of a person that has sugar poured on it). That dog is probably happier now than he ever was in life. This world makes me sick!

Note to self 144: 06/18/2001

Two of my friends got married this weekend (one guy, one girl.... moron) and I was sort of invited. I snuck the Wolfman, Chi-Chi and Dr. Dave (he said he wanted to study the human mating ritual or something) in too just for kicks. All in all the ceremony was nice and only 2 groomsmen died. The bride hid a stun gun in her dress for some reason and the groom only found out about it as he went to kiss her at the altar. The Wolfman had some booze in a nice looking flask on him though, and we used it to splash on the new husband's face to wake him up. But that was when Chi-Chi flicked his cigarette and some of the ashes set the grooms head on fire (it was a scene right out of Firestarter! It was pretty cool!). I found that I had to put the death flame out the old fashioned way when people started to panic and run for an extinguisher (which could have taken an additional 5-6 seconds dammit!!). Thank God my breakfast is mostly liquid and I had enough ammo to knock that unholy fire out with one stream!... Though I was never thanked even once.

Anyway, the scarred groom and singed bride made it to the reception before heading to the emergency room (which turned out to be a good thing because if they went to the ER first and then the reception hall they would have just had to have gone back to the hospital after Dr. Dave was done with his experiments.... btw, he refuses to help people with health care insurance which is why he never got involved in any of the healing that was so desperately needed that day. He just likes to play it safe I guess). So, after all the rabid badgers, rats and fruit bats were cleared out of the room the happy couple was able to cut the cake. They couldn't cut it too much though as the Wolfman and Chi-Chi hid the body of the ring-bearer in it (after they had come to the conclusion that he had succumbed to the evil power of Sauron's master ring that brought them all together and binded them). It was around that point that Angry Amy (the Maid of Honor) tried to use the cello from the band to castrate me with. The police were finally called in and I forged a few green cards for some of the kitchen staff for a few extra bucks after I convinced them that it was an illegal immigrant raid. I heard that the bride is going to recover fully (though we never did find her leg for the surgeons to re-attach) and the groom will be able to leave his padded room in another 6 years. I think they plan to start a family then.

Note to self 143: 06/15/2001

I just got the two new Zelda games for the Gameboy Color and have been playing them like a crazy ganja-smoking Injun! At home, in the office, in the car, at the strip club, during "crying therapy", at the breast implant counseling center, and in the Jacuzzi with my pay-as-you-watch womens. They are addictive as Clorox!! I even had a dream last night that I was in Hyrule with Link and Zelda while they were planning my Bar Mitzvah along with Mario, Donkey Kong and a bunch of the hot chicks drawn for all of the Japanese digital dating games I've played in the past 2 months. I was totally surprised by the party, but then I found a stick of Juicy Fruit in the purple-headed babe's, Minako's, shirt pocket and I got angry for some reason. Then the green-haired bimbo, Ayako, and the pink-haired brat, Ayumi, tag-teamed up against the blue-haired, glasses wearing, smart girl, Kyoko, and trashed her Supah Powah Makeup because she was planning on asking me out to the Great Robot Rampage on Friday. After the Jell-O and pudding (chocolate) filled cage match of Foxy Boxing got underway I was unfortunately shaken awake by the cops who had busted in my apartment door. Seems that my roommate had been blasting some of his "chicks with chains" videos and hanging upside down from the ceiling fan in his room till he blacked out again. The sad thing was that I had only dreamed about getting the "Whore Magnet" in the Zelda game. Apparently it's not a real accessory :(

Note to self 142: 06/08/2001

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I went completely out of control. I lost my temper and sanity for a while and shared the rage I felt with the rest of the town. But I was totally driven to it, mind you! It all started when I finally saw the "21st Century Iron Chef Battle" that featured Gay Bobby Flay's rematch with Iron Chef Japanese, Morimoto. You see, Bobby Flay totally lost big time when he first faced Morimoto in New York last year. He fucked up his dishes like a little girl who just throws shit into her Easy-Bake Oven to see what'll happen and the judges totally destroyed him for it. But instead of taking it like a man and accepting the fact that he's a culinary retard he went to a bunch of big US magazines and whined that he was treated "unfair" and that the competition was rigged.... In his home country.... where Chairman Kaga and his Iron Chefs were the visiting team. What a yak licker!

Anyway, it'd been a full year and Flay never stopped insulting the Chairman and his food army, but Kaga turned out to be the bigger man (yeah, no shit). The rich yet freaky poofy-haired one invited Flay to come to Tokyo to challenge Morimoto again. Flay accepted but never stopped complaining. Even after the "lobster battle" began Bobby just kept on bitching and griping about everything he could, and anytime the slightest little thing went wrong (as frequently happens when a bunch of fat fucks are running around a small kitchen throwing diced tomatoes and shell fish about like the Tasmanian Devil on speed) Flabby Boy would actually murmur to the camera, "I can't believe they're trying to screw me over again!!" What a tool!! Anyway, Iron Chef Morimoto was just laughing it all off. He still believed (as do all my friends) that Flay "was not a real chef". He kept telling Ohta, the commentator, that he was just there to have a good time and that Bobby (despite not being a real culinary artist) should just relax and enjoy the competition. But the only thing that Booby (not a typo) was comfortable doing was drowning his dishes in an avalanche of spices (that the Japanese judges had never even tasted before) and acting like a complete ass. He tried his damndest to cheese off his hosts and he pissed on as much Japanese culture as he could in his hour long battle. Near the end of the match he had disgraced America so many friggin' times that I was just praying that a mad kami-kaze fucker would run into Kitchen Stadium with a trench coat full of TNT and blow that smug smile off of Flay's evil lips.

Sooooooo, in the end the judges actually committed career suicide and voted in favor of Bobby's meal. Mostly because they couldn't taste it underneath the two inch blanket of horseradish and honey sauces that he battered it in. But did Morimoto complain? Well, maybe off camera, but while still on screen he never bitched once despite losing to a phony. He even smiled a sincere looking smile. Bobby got a medal for being a turd and then proceeded to chant "raise the roof" until I set the charges and exploded my TV. I lost it for a while and punched Robot Pedro in the head, smashed Kuni's car windshield in with a Louisville Slugger, set Carl's drapes on fire again, punctured the Megaplayboy's new tires with a flat-head screw driver and sent a pile of dog crap Express Delivery to Flay's New York restaurant. I really think that his win signals the beginning of Armageddon as was prophesied by Bob From the Future. Shit.

Note to self 141: 06/05/2001

I went to the Poison, Quiet Riot and Warrant concert last Thursday (yeah, I went... what the fuck do you listen to, bitch?) and had a great time for a little while. Until Kevin Dubrow himself had my group of amigos thrown out because Kuni got piss drunk again on half a plastic cup of Bass Ale and used one of the guitarists' instruments as a urinal. I tried to tell the concert pigs that I didn't know him, but then Kuni had to show them the fucking tattoo of me that he had on his left nipple (That little ass pirate!!! I ordered him to remove that with hydrochloric acid 2 years ago!!... You know, he never even really explained why he had it etched on in the first place. He said that it was an accident but I do catch him rubbing it every so often... Sometimes he just freaks me the hell out, but I digress). I had Robot Pedro hidden in the back of my car, so I quickly got him out and made him kick in a hole behind the stage so that I didn't miss the rest of the performances. I pretended that I was a roadie (you wouldn't believe how often that works) and just moved a few boxes around and stuff for the rest of QR's and then Warrant's sets (holy crap did their lead singer get tubby!). But when Poison came on I was forced into helping set up the pyrotechnics for their show. I personally don't know much about the science of blowing things up and setting things on fire, I just know that that kind of shit seems to happen a lot around me and my friends. I simply did the best that I could and then sat down to watch C.C., Bret, Rikki and Bobby kick it up a few notches. Everything was going okay until I saw Kuni pissing on some of the wires hooked up to the fireworks-launchers and the flame-shooters behind the drums. I cursed myself for not slitting his throat and leaving him for dead in the men's room (where nobody would have noticed the stench of rotting flesh) earlier! Before I could move to either tackle the jackass or drop a sandbag on his skull, sparks flew and everything ignited in a white-hot fury of glorious explosions!! It was like a John Woo movie! Fireballs shot out high above the spectators sending shrapnel and ethereal flames all about the stage! Bodies were being blown up and out into the head-thrashing crowds of the mystified children of the 80s!! C.C. ran around in circles trying to smoke his own ignited ass!! But what was coolest of all was the fact that Bret never once stopped singing Fallen Angel. Well, not until that giant stage light fell and crushed him like a grape.

That cock-smoker, Kuni! Now that's 5 stadiums that I'm not allowed to get within 500 feet of!

Note to self 140: 05/31/2001

A big computer convention rolled into town and the Megaplayboy and my pal Angus from Hawaii invited me to check it out. Everything was going okay for a while (Kuni and I snuck in the convention center by wearing disguises of thick, coke-bottle glasses, short sleeve button downs with pocket protectors, and a couple of Palm Pilots [which were really Game Boys with Tetris in them]), but then security got all tempramental when Kuni flipped a guard off and told them that they were "fuckheads" for not catching us. The real problem with that was that we didn't even make it to the front doors of the display hall when he did that. So after the beating we received I left Kuni behind and began hitting on a real geeky-looking computer chick. I talked her into sneaking me past security (on the grounds that I provided her with a sexy strip tease). Well, I gave that bitch the best damn lap dance in a broom closet that I'd ever performed in my long and sordid life and then she called the cops on me and tried to have me arrested for lewd behavior and for having a big package (well, I don't know if that was one of the charges, but it easily could have been). To make a long story short, I got away from the cops.... again, and was finally able to get into the convention show floor when I told people that I was Steve Jobs (or was it "the Wozz"? [or was it "the Fonz"?]). I met up with Angus and Timmons but got bored quick-like when I found out that it was just an internet/broadband/servers and shit kinda convention. There were no booths displaying the newest pornography technology or anything!! What a gip!!

Note to self 139: 05/28/2001

Holy shit! Robot Pedro went on a rampage today when he got a rejection letter in the mail from a Robot Militia group that he was trying to get into. They were all about "down with hu-mans" and stuff, and since Robot Pedro was already pretty much hell-bent about vaporizing all the inferior hu-mans he met in daily life, I saw this as only more unnecessary trouble. If Robot Pedro ever finds out that I actually sent in some pictures of him playing field hockey, doing arts and crafts and singing karaoki love songs with humans (I actually Photoshopped the images up as he was basically doing the above mentioned activities but with only decapitated people's heads) to the leader of the psycho cyborg assembly I fear he'll turn me into Soylent Green and feed me to his dog, Mr. Jimmy. Luckily though, I was able to blame those really gay "bue guys" that make those even gayer Pentium computer chip commercials and Robot Pedro went over to their house and killed them many times with a 5-Iron.

Note to self 138: 05/21/2001

I got back from Los Angeles and the E3 Convention last night only to find that my friend, Chi-Chi, had broken into my apartment and turned it into a disco while I was gone! He was collecting a $20 cover charge and a three drink minimum too! That pissed me off so much!..... How could I not have thought of that years ago?!?!?! I felt like an idiot. When confronted about the whole deal and why I wasn't included in any part of the take, Chi-Chi just screamed like a little girl and jumped out the window. Most of the partiers thought it was a raid so they left too. It was then that I noticed Robot Pedro pretending to be a disco ball to escape my attention. He told me that he thought that I had died in California after he began watching Die Hard and saw that the Nakatomi Plaza had been blown up and a lot of people were killed. So then he invited Chi-Chi over and they came up with the idea of exploiting my death with a dance party inspired by Studio 54. I forgave him when he slipped me $150 he got for sneaking uncool people into my place earlier that night, and then together we kicked the bartender's ass and threw him down the stairs. There's no place like home.

Note to self 137: 05/10/2001

What a great day I'm having (sarcasm detected). When I first walked into the office today Angry Amy casually walked up and kicked me in my yin-yang (she was wearing her steal toed boots again so it was even less enjoyable than normal). Then the day went down hill fast. They moved somebody else into my cubicle with me because the 4-foot by 4-foot box was the biggest space available to fit the new girl (who hails from Minnesota: Land of the Beefies). My nose is actually touching the monitor of my computer now. After I was able to squeeze past Helga for a breather I went down to complain to Carl. He didn't seem too sympathetic though and told me to just quit my bitchin'. He didn't actually tell me that though, it was more like he hit my head with a hammer and eventually a T1 server thingy until I ran away. The only thing that I could do to pick my spirits up was to go to the breakroom and grab myself a special "Thursday donut". Turns out that Robot Pedro had already busted through the wall like the Kool Aid dude and "assimilated" all of the jellies just minutes before. So at lunch I went over to Kuni's place and beat the living shit out of him with his own fist. I figure what goes around comes around.