My Kid Was Born With Two Asses

"Push babe, push!" I encourage her as she shoots me that oh-so-loving look of "die motherfucker, die." The room is buzzing with medical staff, maybe a few more people than usual for what, on the outside, looks like a regular childbirth. But the staff knows something is amiss. I'm oblivious.

"I can see it's...head?!!" screams the doctor as those in the know gasp. Me and the wifey don't know what the drama is about until a few seconds later. Instead of a healthy cry comes a muted "pooot!" -- an unmistakable fart. Oh no, a breach baby! Why are the doctors allowing this to happen? "Keep pushing! I can see its shoulders!" yells the doctor. Shoulders? Ass then shoulders? Wha.....?

Long story short -- PLOOP! Out comes baby, born with an ass where its head should've been. How could this have happened?

It didn't happen, but it's not a dream. It's a story of a future that may have come to pass had ignorance prevailed. But let's start from the beginning.

Lapudance (a name bestowed upon him by his brother, AlwayzRight) invited me to his friend's b-day party last week, which I was considering attending given that there would be women present and the restaurant was local to me. The clincher -- all-you-can-eat Sushi and all-you-can-drink beer and sake.

The restaurant was packed. While there were women aplenty, all were absorbed in conversation with their friends. Lapudance, AlwayzRight, his friend, and I sat down at the second long table, apart from everyone else. No matter. I was more than happy to just get my eat on and get drunk.

A couple of girls walked in soon after and sat down next to us. The waiters were busy fulfilling orders, and we had food up the yin yang. Someone on our side offered the pair some food while they were waiting. Game on. As the night progressed and the sake flowed, spirits heightened. The girls were cool. Not quite my type, but toasting to random crap with strangers is always fun.

Soon I found myself engrossed in banter with Espana. That's not her real name, but it describes her look perfectly. However, we discovered that each of us is of the same nationality, and we had many other things in common. She lives nearby, has cool parents (who were picking her up afterwards so she wouldn't have to drive home drunk), used to swing dance, is in the music business, went to UCLA, and even was the roommate of my good friend Bruingirl.

Tangent: Bruingirl sent me a signed picture of some porn star named Memphis Monroe from Hustler TV. I've never heard of her, but more amazingly, Penguin doesn't have a clue who she is. She must suck. Well, figuratively. Okay, literally too. Thanks for the pic though, Bruingirl! I'll give it to my godson! j/k.

Back to the story. Espana and I continued to converse. At one point, Lapudance and the others "conveniently" left us alone. They thought we really clicked. I just thought we had stuff in common and we got along. Either way, by the end of the night I got her number.

A few days later I e-mailed Espana. The day passed and I received no response. Oh well. Guess I was right -- there was no spark. Then I got her e-mail.

"I looked at your card on Saturday and realized that we may be distantly related in some way. My great-grandmother's maiden name was Ostrich and according to my mom, all Ostriches are related. I don't know how accurate that is, but a funny coincidence nonetheless."

It's not a coincidence. In my homeland, the last name Ostrich did not exist until my great-grandfather created it. I don't know the whole story, so here's the ghetto version. Great-grandpimp was actually a Panda who came to live at the Bird Islands. He joined the army and became a general. To fit in, Great-grandpimp changed his last name to Ostrich from Panda. General Ostrich was also a polygamist -- many wives, many concubines, over 100 children. There's even a statue in his home city in his honor -- the same city where Espana and I traced our roots.

So, in effect, I picked up on my cousin. This is the second time this has happened to me. Lapudance still thinks me and Espana should hit it. Sick bastard.


Ostrich -- If Espana were a fifth-generation Ostrich and we hooked up, that would technically make her the subject of Terrence and Phillip's (from South Park) greatest hit, "Uncle Fucker."

I Am Winnie The Poo -- er...Pooh

"You're just like Winnie The Pooh," joked a co-worker as I unashamedly scratched my back against a wall corner at the office. Earlier in the morning, another co-worker joked that I'm just like a bear. Yet another co-worker quipped that her cat also scratches his back against corners (as you can tell, I don't give a fuck what others at the office think or say about me). Since cats are evil, and I'm more akin to a Teddy Bear, we'll just say I'm like Winnie The Pooh -- plus my cute co-worker bestowed upon me the nickname, which doesn't hurt.

Why do people enjoy having their dorsal area scratched? If I remember correctly, the human back has the least number of nerve endings per square inch than any other part of the body. Meanwhile, there are other parts of the body that are teeming with nerve endings such as the crotch, and you don't see everyone going around scratching their crotch -- well, then again....

I simply love that microsecond of pain you experience when an itch is scratched, followed by the immediate sensation of warmth that lingers for a bit. Yeah, I know. Sounds masochistic.

When someone scratches your back it's the kind of thing where they're catering to you and only you. They are unselfishly giving you something without expecting anything in return -- well, unless they subscribe to the saying, "You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours," which is perfectly fine. If not, they are willing to risk the early onset of arthritis just for you. Awwwww!

However, as is the case with other pleasure-inducing activities, if you don't have a partner, sometimes you have to use your hand and some tools. Back scratchers are dope. My first one was a piece of shit, though. My old boss gave it to me; it was pink and made of plastic and it sucked. So did he, apparently -- he lost the company millions of dollars or something. I moved up to a wooden one that I got on clearance for $1.00. It worked well for a whole day. Splinters sure are hard to remove from your back. Now I have one that is wooden, sans the splinters. Unfortunately, I think my niece broke the rolling massager part. No worries though, I don't use that part anyway. Don't get me wrong. I'd gladly accept massages too -- but back scratches just rock.

Want to make me happy? Scratch my back. Then watch in delight as a grown man curls up on the floor like a little doggie and begins kicking his leg in spastic excitement. Or do dogs to that when you rub their tummies? I can't remember -- my bad. Well, you can rub my tummy too. It may even bring you good luck, unless you're a dude. Then it'll only bring you a swift kick to the nuts.

hASSelhoffian!

I swear that this masterpiece has officially launched a new age of art, the "Internet Age," which will be prominently noted in history books for thousands of years to come. School children will marvel at its beauty. College students will write term papers comparing and contrasting this yet-to-be-revealed artist's magnum opus to Michaelangelo's "David." Sure, people have created art on the Internet before, but never before has one pixelated animation elicited such raw emotion from the masses. Don't believe me? Well, don't take my word for it -- here's what my friends have to say!

I'mNotSayid: disturbing

Bruingrl: oh god...burned my eyeballs out

CaptainCutey: ok, that's gonna give me nightmares

I find when your co-workers are having a bad day, there's nothing like a warm glass of "shut-the-hell-up" to cheer them up. Lately that hasn't been working, so I delivered this masterpiece to my co-worker via IM. "Hasselhoffian" immediately had her singing its praises like no other and she forgot all about her tribulations. Here's another instance where it has helped alleviate stress.

Ostrich: just a little something to get you through the day
Dimple: thanks. really.
(Ostrich pastes the link:)
Dimple: haha! i'm in class!!!
Ostrich: hahahahahahahaha
Ostrich: well, hope it brought a frown, then a smile to your face :-)
Dimple: haha. a smile THEN a frown

Okay, maybe that wasn't the best example. Nonetheless, its name alone is enough to pique the curiosity of even the most resistant of people.

Toby: dude...i won't even open it because it says..."hasselhoffian" in the URL
Toby: what do you think? i'm crazy?
(A few seconds later)
Toby: lol. that's sick man
Ostrich: hahahahaha. open it. you know you want to
Toby: yea...i did
Toby: gag

Sometimes, art induces emotions and reactions far beyond the norm, inspiring people to utter things they wouldn't normally mean -- I hope...

Ostrichette: um... don't do that again
Ostrichette: EVER
Ostrich: why not?
Ostrich: does this mean you're breaking up with me?
Ostrichette: that's so gross
Ostrich: hahahahahah!
Ostrich: i mean, sorry :-(

Kamote: ARGH!!!!
Kamote: ABORT! ABORT!!!
Kamote: i thought you were my friend!
Kamote: :-P

Despite the seemingly negative response "Hasselhoffian" is causing around the world, just remember -- beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Ostrich: sup
Lapu: jes woke up
Ostrich: oh? well here. let me help you get your morning started.
(Ostrich pastes the link in:)
Lapu: that is one of the greatest things i have ever seen

Googleyed: aww, this is such a tease! every time it zooms in i get my hopes up.

And now, it's time for you to experience the hype for yourself.

HASSELHOFFIAN!

Thai Culture Has Taken My Butt Prisoner

Last night a few of us went to the Igloo to watch our alma mater go down in defeat to a bunch of swamp-dwelling ass-masters. But that's beside the point.

Anyways, Penguin and Penguinette have been raving about their favorite restaurant/whore house, Thai Villa, for many moons. Last night during the game seemed like the perfect time to order take out and for the rest of us to try it for ourselves. The Penguins swear by the food at this little villa, just like they also swear that the place doubles as a brothel.

Not feeling like ordering my usual Pad Thai, I decided to be adventurous. I perused the menu I came across another appetizing dish -- egg noodles with mint leaves, tomato, chili peppers, blah blah blah. After reading the ingredients and seeing the little chili pepper picture beside the item to denote its hotness, I chose the Mee Tao Kro. No, this was not the dish's real name, but I can't remember what it was really called.

Thirty minutes later a car door slammed outside and I sat up, anxious to feast my eyes on a tasty treat. Crap. It's just some dude in a UCLA sweatshirt bringing us our order from Thai Villa. Where's the scantily clad whore? I thought to myself. Man, this Mee Sew Ho Ni better be good.

Dayam! Screw the whore (figuratively, of course) -- the Mee Yum Yum tasted great! But I had to eat it quickly since my lips were ablaze. No point in prolonging the pain. Upon finishing my food I suckled ice cubes to alleviate the burning sensation. Funny, I thought to myself. I could be experiencing a similar burning sensation in my pelvic region at this very moment had a whore from Thai Villa delivered the food instead. Whew. I sure got lucky. Or so I thought….

As Emu the Prognosticator quipped when I chose the Mee Lik Hot, "What goes in hot, comes out hot," or something like that.

6:30am -- Took a shit. It hurt. Smelled like the Mee Tak Shit from last night. Made my mouth water a little. Haha.

8:00am -- Took a shit. It hurt. This time there was no pleasant aroma, just the lingering burn. Double-flusher due to use of excess toilet paper.

11:15am -- Took a shit. It hurt. I closed my eyes and this little cartoon popped into my head…A little chili pepper with stick-figure-like arms and legs and a devious smile is kicking it in my asshole, holding my sphincter hostage and whipping it mercilessly.

Yes, I would eat at Thai Villa again. But next time we're going there in person to see the whores and I'm just going to order Pad Thai.

Ostrich -- South Park was right. Mee Krob is a bad word.