Screenshots.

I must say, that is one hell of an outfit.

I need to start stuntin' in a robe. The only problem is only weirdos wear robes. Um. Hugh Hefner? Any religious person anywhere? Ku Klux Klan? Wizards? No, not these wizards. Who else? Jesus?

Want to know why I liked "Get Low"? Here:

Now what do I do?

I was going to comment on all of the tragedies that are happening to yellow people. Japan with the earthquakes/tsunamis/nuclear meltdowns and NYC's bus crash that left 15 (mostly Chinese) people killed (not to mention Yao Ming's career is pretty much over).

This is fucking CRAZY! Photo: NYTimes.

We lost a lot of Math students. No but seriously, it is pretty devastating. You won't see me ordering people to "Pray For Japan" through Facebook anytime soon. Praying and Facebook, two of my least favorite things.

Although these things are serious and are a lot to take in, I actually have my own problems to deal with. Today I ran out of clean underwear and socks. Actually, let me start over. 4 days ago I ran out of clean underwear and socks so I decided today would be a perfect day to catch up on my laundry. Wearing underwear with crust stains takes some getting used to but is never fun, trust me. I always go to the same place to do my laundry. It's big, clean, reliable, relatively cheap, and owned by ChingChongs. I usually load my clothes in the washer and come back to my apartment so I can get things done while my clothes are being de-funk-dafied. I then go back after 40 minutes and throw the washed clothes in the dryer and come back home. Alright, I'm sure all of you don't need me to explain to you how to do laundry. I just want to make sure you understand that I leave my laundry unattended to for quite some time.

When I took my clothes out of the dryer and set them in a cart to be moved to a folding table to be folded down and packed away (a couple of years of retail experience has made me a Black Belt in Folding, bitchez) I noticed a foreign object left in my clothes cart.


Normally this wouldn't be a big deal. I would have just taken this tiny sock and thrown it away. But for some reason today a little old Mexican-looking lady was hawkeyeing me. I couldn't tell if she noticed the sock but I began to worry that she thought some sort of foul play was going on. I mean I'm sure she already questioned my sexuality when she came across my unbelievably eclectic collection of multi-colored socks, so I began to believe she thought I was perfectly capable of forgetting to stuff the little sock in the trash bag that I just stuffed little "Juanito" in after I was done doing my weird "Uncle Marty" things to him. I couldn't just assume that she was like everyone else and always throws away those "Missing Children" leaflets before looking at them. I had to assume the worst. So not knowing what to do, I folded the sock in half and placed it right on top of my other socks. I didn't want to throw it away in front of her because I wasn't convinced she would believe that it was just a stray sock. I'm almost sure she would have taken a picture of me and the little sock with her iPhone (4) and sent it to every major newspaper. When I grabbed my last article of clothing from the cart, she pushed it to her dryer and unloaded clothes. She didn't look at me again. I can only imagine she was playing her hypothetical scenario in her head over and over, scared that I might graduate my pervert freakness to little old stumpy brown ladies (with iPhone 4's).

I'm still wondering how that sock got in there. I make it a point to check the washer and dryer before loading my clothes and I definitely didn't see the tiny sock in either one before I used them. Was someone out to frame me as a pedophile? I mean if someone printed a picture of me with the caption "Pervert" under it, you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who would second-guess it. And now what? What happens when I invite a girl back to my pad and she accidentally comes across this little ass sock? Oh wait. Why the hell am I worried about that? Girls? Here? HA! Should I throw it out now? I'll make sure it's in a bag that has old foodstuffs instead of ripped up mail so it won't be traceable back to Marty C. I'll probably just slip it into Josh's room so he can sit around and wonder if he kidnapped any kids when he was blacked out drunk.

Actually now that I think about it, the little old Mexican lady (iPhone 4) probably stared at me because she wanted the cart I was hogging. Alright forget everything I just said.

Joshua Henning.

I Googled "depressed pale guy" and this is the first picture that came up. It doesn't really look anything like Josh but whatever they all look the same.

I sometimes mention my roommate Josh. I've known him for quite some time now. We both moved to NYC together to pursue our "dreams." Can't say that's going all that well but hey, we're here and we're making the most of it. Sometimes when I look at the guy sitting on the beach ball in the title picture of this page I am reminded of Josh. He wasn't the inspiration behind the drawing but there are definitely some similarities. But he doesn't own a beach ball. It'd be really weird if he did.

Recently he started uploading a picture a day to his Tumblr and he's off to a great start. Take a look and steal his pictures. Actually don't do that. But do take a look, it will be well worth your time. Plus there are only like 5 pictures up so it will only take you like a minute unless you're one of those assholes that looks at White paintings for an unhealthy amount of time, trying to figure out what it all "means." Good luck and enjoy.

http://joshhenning.tumblr.com/

Perverts sanging.

By now you should have become very familiar with my love for R. Kelly and all things "pervert." Well not all things. But when you can make, "I blame it on the model broad with the Hollywood smile, stripper booty with the rack like wowwwww," sound beautiful, you've already won me over. So I urge you to take a listen to Frank Ocean's album nostalgia,ULTRA. He's also written songs for that little lesbian looking thing that calls itself Justin.

"What's good?"

I'm going to be almost 30 years-old pretty soon. Well not quite, but closer to 30 than I am to 20. For once in my life I feel like I'm really behind with the lingo. While everyone is describing things as "O.D." and telling people to "Pause" (your guess is as good as mine), I'm roaming the streets calling people "Jabronis" and "Chumps." And Lord knows there are plenty of Jabronskis and Chumpty Dumpty's in this monstrous-ass-chach-filled-city. As Alicia Keys would say, "I keep on Fallin' in and out of [this lingo game.]" I don't know it's something like that. Seriously, how am I supposed to know? I'm almost 30.

Even getting used to something as simple as New York's version of "What's up?" is confusing. I'm constantly asked "What's good?" and find myself wondering how to respond. I mean take one good look at me and you should be able to guess what exactly it is I think is good. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing is good." So I end up saying, "Uh. Yep." That usually turns heads and confuses but in the end it satisfies the audience. And I seriously don't really know how you're supposed to respond.

What's happening? No, I'm not asking the 1990's version of "What's Up?" I really want to know what is happening. What is happening to our slang? I mean most rappers come up with stuff that we can enjoy for a few years and then naturally die. These things are FUN! But I'm starting to worry that since I'm losing track of all of the new ways of saying "Hey, I'm totally fucking cool," I'll be left behind. Wait, you didn't think saying "Bling Bling!" was fun? Really? Well you must have at least liked the further evolved "Bling Blao!"

"What's up" and its many variations need special attention because they are the most commonly used. I mean it's really just saying "Hello" or "Hi." So I looked up "What's Up?" in the scholarly approved Urban Dictionary and it gave me a good start as to what people say in place of "Hello." Take a look.

Look closely. I highlighted a word that really has no place in this selection of expressions and nouns. I guess it depends on who you ask.

I can't even begin to explore all the ways people say "Hello" but I can list a few of the more popular ones.
"What's up?"
"What up?"
"Sup?"
"What's good?"
"What it is?"
"What it do?"
"Wasabi." (Kill yourself.)
"Heyo." (That exists right?)
"What's going on?"
"What's poppin'?"

You get the point.

They're all relatively the same. But yesterday I heard one that I've never heard before. A few dudes with really dark year-round tans came into the break room at work and started talking. Instead of saying anything I was used to, one of them asked, "What it look like?" So of course I was trying to figure out what the "it" was because we know people with year-round tans more often than not are talking about big booties or well...big booties. And I also like to talk about big booties. So instead of getting a really accurate description of what "it" looks like, the response was, "Oh you know. Another day, another dollar." So I listened to their conversation wondering when we were going to get into the big booty talk (BBT) but it never happened. They just had a normal conversation. So from the way the conversation progressed I deduced that "What it look like?" was this gentleman's way of saying "What's up?" or, since we're in New York, "What's good?"

I'll admit I'm confused. "What it look like?" Well what exactly are we talking about? What does my future look like? I don't want to talk about that. I don't even want to think about that. It's depressing. Or did I miss something? How does "What it look like?" compare to "Hello?" You couldn't explain it to me. But in a way I kind of love it because I think the more confusing it gets, the more lost White people will be. I mean seriously, if I'm this confused by it, I can only imagine how flustered and upset an average white person would be. (C'mon give me credit. I do listen to rap music. Don't believe me?) And isn't the goal to confuse the shit out of white people so we can catch them slipping? So that's why if we're going to push this lingo-game to its limits I'm going to start my own "Hello."

"What it taste like?" and maybe in 2012 it will evolve into "What flavor it is?" I'm excited thinking about all of the mixed emotions and confusion it will cause. I mean asking someone "What it taste like?" is kind of a pickup line right? I mean I'm sure it would work on some lonely sorority girl in a college town somewhere. Maybe eventually an acceptable response would be "Orange Koolaid" which of course would mean, "Everything is swell indeed, sir." I'm taking this lingo-game to a whole new level. While all yall bitchez are sitting around talking about your "Swag" and getting taught how to "Dougie" I'm going to be finding out exactly What It Taste Like. Word? Word to your motherland.

(O.D. means "Overdone" or "Overdose." Example: "That bitch O.D. skinny. And she O.D. skanky. And O.D. stanky. She a O.D. skinny, stanky, skanky bitch." On the real. For real.)
("Pause" is said after a faggy remark. It might be subtle but it can be more in your face like, "I love the feeling of testicles slapping against my chin." This is when you would say "Pause.")

Sorry for using the word "Faggy." But seriously, "No Homo."

The Tess Bear Trilogy.

Let me introduce you to a good friend of mine. Tess Bear. You know how she do it? She do it real big. You thought that dude from Entourage was rollin' with Kanye and whoever else is on that show in real life? Nope. He's part of Tess Bear's Entourage. And so are a bunch of other white people. (I see you brown girls. How you feel? Let me at it.)

This is not MY idea of a fun time. Actually it's the definition of a NOT fun time. (Lots of "them" but not that many.)

That's fine because I don't want to talk to you either.

Seriously. What. Is. That?

A Rat Tale.

I'm sure everyone in NYC deals with mice in their apartments. It's no surprise to me. However, it gets to be a bit much when you have to cover your entire kitchen floor with glue traps to protect the food that is stashed away atop makeshift tables and well-thought-out hiding places. For weeks Josh and I have seen mice come and go. So far we've managed to kill 2 of them but of course that was short-lived when the very next day we saw another one strutting around looking for its next 14 course meal. Many bagels and kaiser rolls have been lost to these little bitches.

But about a week ago things changed drastically. After coming home from a night out, Josh said he was awakened by the sounds of commotion coming from our kitchen. He came out of his room to find a RAT having his way with some fresh garbage. Not wanting any real trouble he back peddled and locked the door. He immediately texted me saying that he saw this vile creature in our kitchen and recommended we spend the next day Spring cleaning. Of course it was the only night I forgot to put my phone on silent so I was wakened by the beep. As I read it, I started to hear the sounds he was talking about. I laid in my bed, under my covers, shivering, wondering what I was going to do. Like any normal human being I strapped on my winter boots and grabbed a half-filled water bottle as my weapon. My plan was to jump on it if it got too close. I'm not exactly sure what the water bottle was for but it was the closest thing I had that resembled a bat so I went with it. I opened the door to find ripped bags but no RAT. I threw the garbage out and went back to bed. I laid there motionless and scared shitless for 4 hours.


After we cleaned we set up some fresh glue traps. I bought six 2-packs of the Jumbo Size traps. The Chinaman at the Dollar Store took notice and said, "Oh you have lots of mice," in a really awesome Ching-Chong accent. I said, "Yea and if this doesn't do the trick I'm going to buy a gun." Let me be the first to say that if a Chinaman is shocked at how many mice he thinks you have, well you have way too many fucking mice.

A few more traps for under the dishwasher.

Josh looking pretty optimistic with our glue barriers. He'll regret that later.

Things were calm for a few nights. Everything stayed clean, we put our food in a different spot, and sort of forgot that we ever shared our apartment with a RAT. I even started to think that this RAT was only really a part of Josh's imagination. Then a few nights ago I went out to buy some rolls and bagels for the upcoming week. Before I went to bed I put them on a table that I thought was unclimbable. I'm an idiot. I woke up hearing plastic bags being ripped open. He was back. I strapped on my boots, grabbed my water bottle, and put on my game face. Of course I made a huge amount of noise before I exited my room knowing the RAT would run back to his bachelor pad.

I found a whole roll gone, half of the other shredded up and a nibbled on raisin bagel. RATs don't seem to enjoy raisin bagels. I cleaned up the mess and threw out the garbage. I went back to bed and laid there motionless and scared shitless, again.

Seriously, how did that bitch climb this? I guess pretty easily.

The next evening I saw that one of the glue traps was pulled halfway under the dish washer. Not thinking anything of it, I attempted to pull it out so I could setup the fortress again. This is when I noticed that a wire from the dishwasher I had never seen before was dangling and caught in the trap. After a little bit of elbow grease I managed to free the trap.

Get ready.

After looking closely I noticed something kind of strange looking. I looked closer. RAT TAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look at how long it is. The RAT must have gotten it caught and then chewed it off to survive. That's some 127 Hours type shit right there. If you look closely you can see some of its saliva and blood.

So we're back at it with even more traps.

I even put a bucket with a lock in it (to weigh it down) in front of the cabinet doors because Josh said he heard a door open the night he first came across that little tail-less fuckface.

Now we're both sitting here. Waiting anxiously. How this RAT tale will end we don't know. I just hope that if we do catch this little asshole it doesn't have its tail. Because if it does we have a way bigger problem on our hands.

I'm sure any one of these little guys would have taken care of this rodent problem a long time ago. Especially that little bald Chinese (take my word for it) dude on the left.