Evil

I am watching the Presidential Debate... what is going on here? Is George W. Bush drunk!!?? (I am.)

Evil

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm just a chubby kid at heart. There are periods in my life when I'm not actually chubby, like in 8th grade where thanks to a growth spurt, I got taller much faster than I got wide, which conveniently stretched me thin. But that didn't last long. And last year, where for no good reason at all, I decided to train for and eventually run a marathon. (Hey, it was a down year.) But here I am now, 20 pound heavier in the time since. When I go pee, I sometimes lift my shirt and rub my round belly a little, just to pass the time. Once it gets a little bigger, I'll be able to rest my arms atop my belly; it'll be like a shelf of sorts. I saw this fat guy do it once and it immediately occurred to me that not having to carrying around the weight of one's arms is Very Convenient indeed!

The main reason why my steady state gravitates toward chubbiness is my inability to eat like a reasonable person. (Some have suggested that the real reason for my chubbiness is Depression, but those are Bad People!) It's especially hard for me because there's always food around the office. We have a makeshift kitchen where I work, so each day, food is brought in and today, we had the best lunch ever because it involved trays and trays of homemade cupcakes! The trays looked endless, with a dozen cupcakes to a tray, all neatly lined, looking moist and soft and overflowing with frosting. For every pair of cupcakes I saw, I had the hardly-controllable urge to go bury my face in between them.

For lunch I was reasonable and had one cupcake. At 1pm, I took a walk to the kitchen to see how many cupcakes were left. There were dozens. I hovered over them, but I didn't take any. At 4pm, I went to visit the cupcakes again. I took a slow stroll pass them and walking in the opposite direction, I noticed a chubby female co-worker doing the same thing! I flashed her a look of disdain, as if to say, Control Yourself, Woman. Show Some Self Respect! I didn't take a cupcake during that visit either, but while walking back to my desk, I did swipe three little bags of Raisinettes and boy were they good.

By 8:30, the office had nearly emptied out... just the usual crew of evening folks around. I bet those people IM the whole fucking day away because why else would they still be at work so late. I sure as hell know that's why I'm there. One guy calls me over to show me a video of him and his friends doing Karaoke this past weekend and I say "Hey, that's cool" but in a way that makes it unambiguously clear to all parties that I really meant to say, "You, sir, are a toolbox." I walk away and decide that I need to pee.

Walk. Walk. Walk. (Toward the bathroom.) Walk. Walk. Walk. DAMMIT! Cleaning lady in the bathroom. Door is blocked off. I can't go pee. Have to go to another floor. OOOOOH. But wait. What is this I see? Sitting peacefully and majestically on the table next to the bathroom is 4 cupcakes -- that is, 4 Perfect Cupcakes -- and they are calling my name. Without thinking, as if overtaken by the chubbiness instinct, a cupcake falls into my clutches and in an instant, I am devouring it. But then -- in an instant and a half, as I'm walking back to my desk with half a cupcake in paws and half a cupcake stuffed in my mouth, I have almost an out of body experience and I see the image of myself as I just described and suddenly I am burdened with Heavy Guilt. I want to cry, but in just another half instant I realized the bigger picture of what just happened...

The cleaning lady. The 4 cupcakes on a plate, right outside the bathroom (not in the kitchen). Those were HER cupcakes! This is a woman who makes $20,000 a year cleaning toilets and she's probably bringing cupcakes home to her kids for all I know, just as a little treat, you know?, because those were damn good cupcakes and there I go, stealing one of her cupcakes and for no good reason, except that I couldn't control myself. The seriousness of the situation settled in quickly. The half of that cupcake still in my paws got stuffed in my mouth, extra quick. I shuffled back to my desk. With pressed shirt sleeves, I wiped my mouth and with much urgency, at that. I sat down. I started to type. When the cleaning lady is done with the bathroom, she will at some point come over to my desk. She will empty the garbage can under my desk. She will smile at me. I will smile back, politely, as if nothing had ever happened.

Before This Conversation Proceeds Any Further, It's Important For Me To Clarify That I Am Not At All Gay.

Having to sit in coach is now a chore for me. After two first class flights, I am no longer used to the cramped seating in coach - the way one has to wait for other people to get up before you can sit, the way my knees bang against the back of another seat. It's not fun. There was nothing more depressing on Sunday than the fact that there was not a fresh vodka and soda waiting for me everytime I finished a drink. Let's not even get into how much I have to put up with just to go to the restroom. Its just not very fair at all...

I'm not sure what lottery I have to win for the online travel system at work to place me in first class consistently, but this time I had lost it. Not only was I sitting in coach, I was sitting in the 30th row. No fun at all. Not only that but when I went to the restroom there was some crazy west Indian woman screaming into her cell phone about (the now gay) Cynthia Nixon sitting in first class with her baby.

When I returned to from the rest room I was pleased to find a SMOKING blonde in the aisle seat. She was on the phone and when she noticed I was trying to get into the center seat she "graciously" slid her legs up on her chair so I could get by. THANKS!

When seated, I promptly joined my rowmates in text messaging news about Cynthia Nixon to the most appropriate party. In my case that meant texting my co worker who was seated 10 rows in front of me. I made sure to do this in plain site of the pretty blonde, hoping to paint myself as a kindred spirit. Then I went for the death blow, the Mortal Kombat finisher. I went into my bag and pulled out my copy of US Weekly.

It was unclear whether she was smitten or just happy to be sitting next to a gay fat guy. In order to set the record straight for everyone. I looked at her smiling face and stated :

"Just so we're clear...I'm not gay at all. I am just really interested in figuring out what's going on with Britney Spears wedding"

Our conversation went off rather swimmingly for a few minute. We read US Weekly concurrently and debated the relative attractiveness of Jessica vs Ashlee Simpson - I defending Ashlee and she supporting Jessica. I pointedly omitted any mention that I might prefer brunettes to blondes, as she was a tiny yet slinky blonde.

It was during this conversation that I noticed something...her breathe reeked of Vodka...That's so hot.

Our next topic covered her visit to NY. She detailed visiting various ex-boyfriends and drinking for days on end. A few days later when telling this story to Andy, a co-worker, he suggested that I should have asked if "she had a porter for all her emotional baggage", quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever heard.

Her NY odyssey ended with what seemed to be a 15 hour drinking binge. I debated proposing marriage right there.

Regrettably, her own little Mike Figgis film ended with her stumbling towards LaGuardia rather than dying in a cheap motel with Elizabeth Shue humping her.

Her story about fighting with an ex-boyfriend about whether or not he would pick her up at the airport did not do much for me. Rather than propose marriage. I downgraded her to a proposal to handle me in the airport restroom.

She asked if I was also connecting to another flight, probing me for a dinner invitation in an airport. Unfortunately, I had my coworker to worry about, as I had already promised the poor girl a ride to my hotel. She did not seem to believe me but let it go.

It disturbed me that as I got off the plane she was still committed to following me. I quickly slid up to my coworker in the terminal, praying my CW would pick up what I was trying to do and resist the compulsion to smack me in the face. Ever quick on the up take, she shot my new stalker a glare and made it a point to only address me as we walked away.

After about 200 yards my drunk stalker got the hint and walked off...

This story is just like me, all build up and no pay off....

Bizarre and Compelling

this article is both bizarre and compelling

Manolo and Balls Mahoney, playing with the sand in between their toes...with horses

My old roommate, Balls Mahoney got married this past weekend. I was pleasantly surprised to be invited. At the end of the day I am not that good at keeping in touch with people and Balls is a good example of this. For example, this past December, Balls called to mention he was in NY and wanted to get together. I wasn't sure if I was mortified because I took a call from the toilet or because I had not told a good friend that I had moved to California 16 months prior to receiving this call.

Sitting at the Columbia University Chapel, I reflected on what a poor friend I am, on how even now I am getting invited to parties in the Bay Area and ignoring invitations to play "No Limit, Texas Hold'em" in SF. Right then and there, I resolved to do a better job as a friend. I was so gripped by these thoughts that I did not really look at the crowd as it formed. When I finally looked up, rather than seeing a ruddy cheeked, Boston Irish clan or a proper Chinese family, I was greeted by stares from a decidedly Indian looking family. At first, I reasoned:

"Hey, if I were getting married today there'd be a distracting amount of Indians there too"

Except it would be balanced by a disproportionately loud Latino contingent.

So this all merited further investigation. Maybe these people are sneaking one in, during the next 5-10 minutes, in between other services. It was worth checking in on. I asked someone standing in front who was getting married. The names he gave were not familiar. Not only that, but Balls was no where to be seen on the wedding schedule....

Holy shit! I went to the wrong church!

Before you run off and judge, let me defend myself. There are a couple of reasons I was sitting at the Chapel up at Columbia Chapel

(1)When last we got together, Balls had mentioned that the wedding was going to be in the Columbia area, This was logically supported by the fact that we were meeting on 95th St. He went as far as to mention "we were just getting some location details straightened out"

(2) The invitation I received, though very nice had been lost when I moved so really I had no idea about details. I had to call KenTak3 the night before to verify date and time (but not location)

(3)I really love Columbia University and have fond memories of walking by the chapel and wishing I could one day be at (or participate) in a wedding there.

(4) I generally suck

Not knowing what to do, my flee response kicked in.

By the time I stopped running I was on 114th and Amsterdam walking towards a Kinkos. Hoping http://www.theknot.com could bail me out. Instead I started making calls

I quickly called the bumpasaurus and he bailed me out. As an aside, I have to wonder what did people do before the advent of the cell phone and the internet? I make a mental note that I need either a wife or a blackberry very soon, if only to keep my personal schedule under control.

The wedding itself went off without a hitch except for the part where a disheveled, large headed Ecuadorian ran in thru the front door like something out of "The Graduate" only to fix his hair and find a seat with out creating any further commotion.

The reception was itself very classy. Subdued except for one very drunk white woman who kept flipping around a 4 year old Chinese girl in the air on the dance floor.

The one thing to mention here, is that Manolo is far better friends with Balls that I am to either of them and it touched me. After watching the slide show everyone in the audience thought it ok to debate the depth of their bond. The slide show started, very normally, presenting assorted pictures of the happy couple growing up...It was great. At some point though, Manolo's face overtook the whole situation. He was in every picture towards the end, often with out the future Mrs. Balls. His outsized personality captured forever on 32mm film. Look there's Balls and Manolo camping, here's a picture of Balls and Manolo hugging each other in tuxedos, and lest we forget here's the time Balls and Manolo went horseback riding on the beach as the sun was setting. I've been to a lot of gay weddings in the last few months, but let me say none of have been as heartwarming.

Except this was not a gay wedding at all, where was Balls' fiancee Sandy in all of this?! Why were there more photos of Manolo than either sets of parents or any number of siblings? Very strange...

By around 1am, things had gone from bad to worse. What started out as a group of 35 leaving the reception to head to a bar in Chelsea, ended with me, Manolo and an Asian girl looking for an HBI walking into a bar in the meat packing district. Normally at this point, I would have pulled a ken and just left. But tonight, Manolo, who was drinking like his boyfriend had just abandoned him (did he?) needed me, his brother, to step in and watch his back. Like most other nights spent with Manolo, this was going to end one of two ways
(1) He and I eating horse meat out of a garbage can in an alley way at 330am.
(2) He and I proclaiming a brotherly love in front of anywhere from 2-8 silicone supported boobies.

Surprisingly, it ended in a completely different way, with me ripping my blazer off a (different) Asian girl on 14th and 9th, giving a big thumbs to a happy group of party goers in a limo and running down the street like I owed somebody money.

Somewhere, Manolo is still drinking, and holding himself...

Evil

SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE THIS GUY

Evil

Since XTIAN and Manolo have gotten all political on us, I might as well weigh in. My fellow Americans, please be honest and tell me if you think this man is actually alive.



It looks to me like he died in 1994.

Evil



Lyle Menendez is the guy on the left. Manolo- please post a pic of yourself and everyone can have a good chuckle.

Evil

GUESS WHO'S THE CLOWN

This is tough one...

=====

GWTC: hey tom its [XXX]

EVIL: what do you want

GWTC: what does straight foward mean

EVIL: use it in a sentence

GWTC: you are pretty straightfoward

EVIL: oh
EVIL: it means "the opposite of complicated"
EVIL: something like "simple"

GWTC: oh
GWTC: is that good or bad

EVIL: who said it to you

EVIL: it's usually a good or neutral thing

GWTC: when a female says it to you

EVIL: generally not a bad thing
EVIL: yeah, it's either good or neutral
EVIL: not bad

GWTC: a female my age

EVIL: next time she says it, punch her in the stomach
EVIL: and see what happens

GWTC: what?

EVIL: you heard me
EVIL: punch to the gut
EVIL: it's funny

GWTC: that is wrong

EVIL: dont be so judgemental

GWTC: you know how many women get hit

EVIL: actually, i dont
EVIL: how would i know something like that??

GWTC: whatever
GWTC: is straight forward a name for a punch

EVIL: yah
EVIL: that's why it's funny
EVIL: like a left hook, or an uppercut

GWTC: oh man

EVIL: but a straightforward is a punch to the gut
EVIL: but you have to do it hard
EVIL: or else you're a wuss

GWTC: so basically you played with my mind

EVIL: no
EVIL: why would you say that
EVIL: now lemme go back to work

Evil

Apparently, our Japan office will be closed on Monday to commemorate "Respect-for-the-Aged Day." I did a little research and this sounds like a scam to me...

"Because Respect-for-the-Aged Day is a relatively new holiday, there are no customs particularly associated with this day. Usually, though, cultural programs and athletic events spotlighting the elderly are held in the community. In some elementary schools, kids draw pictures or make simple handicraft items to present to their grandparents or residents of nursing homes."

CMON! Dude, someone made up this holiday just to get off from work.

BTW, Ken... what are your plans for Monday?

Evil



I heard that Hooters is opening up shop in India. Man, I think that's crazy. Based on what I know about Indian men (sample size = 1, i.e. Mr. Shoulders), this sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. Those Hooter girls should brace themselves for several punches in the stomach.

Bush vs. Kerry

I don't know what Xtian was thinking but he opened the floodgates when he posted the link to WhiteHouseWest...

I don't want to get too political either but now I feel the need to make some sort of political statement.

Hopefully, it won't offend any of our readers...who am I kidding? We don't have any readers...

Evil

SMOKER'S VAGINA

Thanks to search engines, millions of people are able to find The Hose. OK, maybe not millions, but let's say tens of people are able to find The Hose. OK, to be honest, ones of people find The Hose. But there's good news... at the current rate of growth, our readership will break into the double digits sometime in mid-2005. XTIAN and I are already giving thought to monetizing all those eyeballs.

In the meantime, checking out how people find The Hose via search engines is quite amusing. Certainly more amusing than, say... doing one's job. HAH. Here are a few of my favorites:

bert and ernie ethnicity

gay ecuadorians

jenny finch's feet

"a woman to get kicked"

fat man picture with hose

Evil

Those of you who are loyal readers *coughcouch* might have asked yourself at some point: Hey, what ever happened to The Bumpasaurus? He'll post once or twice and manage to be fairly entertaining, but then he'll disappear for months. What's the deal you ask?

I think I had a Bumpasaurus sighting this weekend. Not in person. More exciting that that... On TV! In fact, I'm pretty sure I spotted The Bump while watching the Yankees-Orioles game.

Here, decide for yourself:

Anyone going to check out Jack & Bobby tonight???

Outdated Hurricane Review

I think I have been in hurricanes back when I lived in the islands but I was probably a little kid and really was oblivious to the weather related happenings of the world.

Last week Hurricane Frances had Miami on its sights and everyone was running around like a chicken without a head trying to stock up on the essentials. There were huge lines for gas, wood, water and those inventories promptly ran out. There was no electricity for a lot of people…I think all it needed to officially become a third world country was more Spanish people and maybe a messed up election or two…oh wait!!!

You couldn’t say the same thing about me. I was woefully under prepared and proud of it. My fuel gage was past the E mark and since I hardly ever drink water, I found no need to stand in line for 2 hours to buy H20. I had new hurricane impact resistant windows so there was no need for plywood or shutters.

You know what, I did go shopping. I went to the liquor store and bought some ice, vodka, whisky, rum, and tequila. I also visited Target but that was to stock up on a bunch of 3-ply toilet paper that was on special.

Since there is another hurricane around the corner, there were a couple of lessons learned that I will need to apply for this new one.

1) You need to have some sort of pre-hurricane party. Get really wasted so you are totally oblivious to what’s going on outside…
2) Create a schedule so you don’t suffer from “Cabin Fever.” Throw in Olympic events such as Dominoes, Pictionary, Monopoly and Twister.
3) Don’t buy condoms…you will just realize how lonely you are when you drink, get horny and start placing “booty calls.” Everyone I called was weathering the hurricane with “family or friends”…family and friends? what the f&@# is that?

Evil

Although I am evil, most people don't realize that I am also psychologically fragile.


XTIAN: what is Ray's #?

EVIL: i lost that kid's number

XTIAN: much the way ken lost yours

EVIL: stop trying to hurt my feelings
EVIL: who are you?
EVIL: my mom?

XTIAN: hah

EVIL: leave me alone
EVIL: bye

Cheap Attention Grabber...



(from Gawker)

Evil

I can't tell whether this ad campaign is the stupidest thing I've ever seen or whether it's secretly brilliant.



I mean, on the surface, it's retarded. You might also have seen the TV commercials. Those are way stupid. The premise isn't even consistent: "liquid" or "ice"? It would really be liquid or SOLID. Or perhaps... water or ice. But as it is, they mix it all up. That bothers me.

On the other hand, maybe this entire ad campaign is stupid in an ironic way. Just because Jessica Simpson is so stupid. But then again, I don't think that the hussies who design these ad campaigns are that smart.

HEH

Not to get too political...but...

http://whitehousewest.com/

Right now I feel like this guy

SHM ISO WM

I’m not much of a wing man. Most people know this about me.. Being a wing man is a thankless job; you hang out and make your friend look good (yawn) and maybe someone gets some ass, most likely it won’t be the wing man. The only guy who ever forced me into the wingman role was a fellow that Evil accurately (if unfortunately) dubbed Bobby Bo. Yes he was named after former Met, surly f*ck, and general maniac Bobby Bonilla. Bobby Bo was a legitimate maniac who once asked me to act on as his wing man while he stalked his ex-girlfriend from across the street of her apartment. I knew he was a crazy but always thought he was good for a few laughs. One such moment was when his job made him take a sabbatical and get into therapy, it provided me with cocktail party jokes for at least a month!

Being his wingman was easy. We’d be at a bar, a chick would come over he’d be this close to picking her up and need to go to the rest room. While she waited I’d step in and do the right thing:

“Get the f*ck out of here now, this kid is a crazy. Last night, he called a bartender a c**t for about 20 minutes. Don’t walk, run.”
So eventually even Bobby got the hint that I was not quite wing man material and left me alone. Yes he could go off at night play out his like Tom Cruise/Maverick fantasies,..but I was going to respond with a passive/aggressive “f*ck you bro! I ain’t no Goose! I ain’t no bland chinless, balding white guy to act as your comedic fodder! No Way”

This is all a rather long, round about way to introduce the idea that this week, I lost MY wingman of 6 to 8 years and honestly I don’t know what to do.

The exchange itself only took a second but everyone there recognized it for what it was. We were all standing on 14th St. and 9th Ave. and as he was about to jump in a cab he stops is like

“I’ll see you around”
There are three people standing there not getting into the cab, but the comment is directed at me. I look over at Evil, whose standing behind me and even his dense ass picked up on the significance of KenTak’s statement. That was it, maybe I was never Maverick but I was still loosing my Goose!

KenTak 3 is the best wingman ever. Unlike Mr. Shoulders who never seems to be having fun and is always a drag Ken managed to keep his opinions to himself, never act bored but never really enjoy himself. Unlike Mr. Shoulders, Ken could handle me saying:

“Hey, that stripper I just got a lap dance from looked really familiar to me and then at the end of the dance I realized she reminded me of my mother.”

Without getting too worked up or asking to leave or calling me sick. It’s a unique gift and it made us brothers.

Evil was never a good option either. One could never trust him because he’s…you know…evil…

As Evil and I walked towards our respective subway stops we didn’t say much. If I were to hazard a guess I would posit that Evil was debating which one of us were traded in for ½ ownership in a little dog and which one of us was put on waivers like Eddie George, broken down and unwanted…

The only thing I could say with certainty is that we both closed this whole line of ugly thinking with same question:

What now?

Evil

Sometimes I feel like this guy...