OMG PART II [Liam]

(this is a continuation of a story i started many, many moons ago... sorry, been working on my portfolio. please see "I almost got stabbed at the laundromat" below)

as we come back from that intermission, let's review where we stand in the conversation right now:

Liam
Believes in pacifism, due process, and reasonable doubt.

Bald Fuckwad
Believes in being a bald fuckwad, prosecution without evidence, and the "that's not cool" platform.

See, this is interesting... because I don't know how he figured out that I in fact DO think it's *cool* to take other people's laundry out of dryers. I mean that puts my feelings in the mildest of terms. I think it is FUCKIN' RADICAL to unload coin-op dryers that may or may not be my own.

(artist's impression of how sweet I believed unloading dryers to be)

Boy was I wrong, and in need of correction.

So anyway, I'm gonna fast forward this a little bit, since I can't help but feel that this ultimately anti-climactic anecdote has probably started to stale in the intervening years since I first started this story...

Dude brings in his girlfriend, whose clothes apparently were messed with.
Before I start describing this woman, please consider that there's basically two possible ways this could go:
One- she's the better half of the couple. She's slightly embarassed to be at the center of some all-around ridiculous scene, and will defuse the situation in a curt manner without breaking the party lines of her goofy relationship. In short, she's irritated but reasonable. She has better things to concern herself with, and in the context of her busy work week and responsibly managed home life she sees this as a small enough bump in the road.
She'll chill her boyfriend out, try to seem the bigger person, and leave.
Unfortunately, this woman I am describing probably owns a washer and dryer.

"It was THAT dryer! That one there! Number... (looking at the number) number 14!"

...Two-
enter a frizzy-haired, high-strung, pink-faced, meth-blasted hag who ain't got a DAMN thing better to do with her sunday night than draw a line in the sand over an imagined transgression neither she nor her boyfriend was even around to witness.

(quick pause: if you glance over part one of this non-epic, you'll notice that earlier I was asked by a "skinny, dark haired dude with rather effete mannerisms" if my clothes were just sitting in the one dryer that wasn't running. He is, without a doubt, the person who moved the clothes. This is an extremely unimportant detail at this point. I don't know that I'm exactly a "stand-up guy," but a conscious decision was made at some point when this guy started getting agitated about his stuff that in all likelihood the most just resolution for his quest would be for him to withdraw from the situation and promptly go fuck himself. Furiously, and with a garden weasel if we are being specific. I can't imagine any Sunday night of mine being improved by 'complicity to an act of retarded vigilante justice.' Hell no.)

The bald guy, emboldened by the damning testimony of his girl, starts getting more in my face. Fortunately, another bald guy steps in on my behalf. A huge asian one, with a goatee. He happens to be cool. I'm not sure, but I think he's the bouncer at the local watering hole "Dragon Lounge" (I saw Paresh there, he told me to finish this goddamn story already)... at least the bouncer there fits the description and seems to recognize me from somewhere.
Anyway he puts down his kids' laundry, comes right up and says "It wasn't him. What you're saying doesn't make any sense."
With this, the two basically get their shit and leave, presumably to go multiply with their ugly asses so that years from now good will not prevail. The boyfriend guy makes sure I know it's "not cool."
Thanks, buddy. I'll be sure to write that down.

I thank bouncer guy for interceding on my behalf, and he tells me "I woulda had your back," which is like the coolest shit ever.
...I'm trying to picture the brawl that would have ensued, and the best I can do is me faking towards the man and then trying to hit the girlfriend with the full beer can I bought. She invariably overpowers me in a stimulant-fuelled rage, and the bouncer probably has to remove her. I could tell you all about the crushing suplex that follows, but my ramble alarm is definitely going off.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

next: getting threatened by a bum on the bus, and what YOU can do to protect yourself!

Some people at my office got together a bay to breakers team last weekend, but I had to skip out for two main reasons:

1.I already missed mother's day, and it would have been really unwise to be late for dinner in Union City on Sunday.

2.Despite the casual fun-loving nature of the race, I probably would have tossed my cookies and passed out well before the end. Probably right before the Kenyan guy crossed the finish line, and not long after the back of the herd left the starting line. (it sounded like the office team actually ran the entire distance without stopping for beer)

I couldn't find any pictures of them, but I really like this one:



(katamari ball > naked middle-aged men)

Also, my brother played the saxaphone in the math band at his graduation on Monday, which was not only Really Cool, but also made him a lot easier to find when he was on stage (he was on stage the entire time). He was also instructed to just hop to the front of the line whenever he felt like graduating which was also cool. The math band exists for one purpose, and that is to play at the math graduation. However, those who wish to join this elite society of musicians must attend at least one (1) rehearsal, or possibly just show up an hour ahead of time on graduation day. Actually, since there is only a limited number of students/faculty who can meet this criteria, and have access to a musical instrument, 2 or 3 elementary school children were also recruited to play.

X4: Personal evolution [Mowgli]

Went to the dentist Saturday, which was kind of an adventure. I showed up at his office about five minutes early for my appointment, but when I walked into his waiting room it was bare. No couches, no magazines, nothing. The place had been stripped. Fortunately there was a receptionist there, who informed me with a combination of a pamphlet and some minimal English that he'd moved his office. To Karavanthra, which as it turned out is a distant suburb of the city. Hopped a rickshaw down there, only to find out that the driver didn't know how to find 'Temple road' once we were in the right area. After a wrong turn and some directions, we finally tracked it down. The dentist's new office is very nice, it's a whole floor of a nice new building. It took him ten years to get a new office; turns out he's tried to move twice before, and each time the developer ended up shafting him. He's gone to court and won in both those cases, so he'll end up with four offices at the end of the story. He decided I should have my wisdom teeth out, which I'm going back for on Wednesday, but he took an X-ray and discovered that I only have 3 wisdom teeth. Apparently humans are evolving away from growing them in the first place, and I'm proud to help lead our development. Ladies, if you need superior genes give me a call.

Homo Headline of the Day [Ben]

Good thing this wasn't NASCAR coverage--it might have incited the world's first bludgeoning by beer can. I wonder if this dude and Kazuhito Tadano can get together for some sort of gay porn biathlon.