Classy film? Or crap
The Guy With Secret Kung Fu
The above title is my DVD tester for the courthouse where I work. It's awesomeness is underappreciated. One of the judges here has borrowed this film not once, but twice. Hey, when a man uses his secret kung fu to take out a zombie, you gotta watch twice!
When I worked at GE, we had a couple of superb douchebags working there. No one came even close to a couple of the ass blemishes who worked at Da Firm, but still, some no talent ass clowns nevertheless. One of those asswipes was The Douche.
The Douche was an engineer turned management pencil pusher. He had an overinflated sense of self worth due to the fact that he was assigned some big operation in Brazil, and had a few unlucky patrons working under him. He was a complete douche for many reasons:
1. He was a racist. He had a bunch of civil war memorabilia in his office, and being a total Civil War history nerd I got real enjoyment in looking around his office while I was working on his many, MANY issues. I did notice a strange trend, though, in that he had no photos or memorabilia from the Union army. Maybe he had it in a place of honor at his home? I assumed. It was not until I spoke with one of our chocolatier complexioned employees that it dawned on me: He was a Southern Sympathizer. Nothing wrong with that, but then I started noticing other little things: I was not allowed in his office unless his secretary announced me. He always walked me to the door, I assumed because he was a good host or wanted to check out the goods, but was told and later saw because he wanted to make sure "that spook don't steal nothin". Various other things.
"So what's funny about racism, Stevester?" you may be asking. Shut up, cracka! Sorry. Anyway, the funny thing about this is I was at one point told to clean off his computer, as it was running very slowly. He was out of the office, and I went ahead and remoted into his machine and started with the usual crap, until I got to his cookies. You see, I usually just go ahead and delete them, as I generally do not have time to look at any of that crap and I hate doing extra work. But something caught my eye. There was a cookie from Blackknobs.com, or something like that, I mean it sounded like a gay porn site. I snickered to myself, but maybe I was wrong. I finished cleaning his cookies, and just to make sure, took a look at some of his pictures.
Holy hell. This man had some issues. Apparently he enjoyed seeing large black men ramdangle old fat white guys in the buttocks. Some of the photos were so disgusting I almost couldn't copy them to my blackmail folder in my documents for later usage. I tell you, it was a little awkward to go into his office after that and turn my back on him.
OK, I just wanted to put in a blurb about work, but I thought I would share another Smeagol tale with you. It was autumn, and I was still going to school (I usually quit showing up for school regularly after football season was over) and love was in the air. Well, not so much love, but I was on the rebound from being dumpified by Cameltoe, so I decided to go out with this little chick from school. She was not all that attractive, but I had nothing better I am ashamed to say, so when she asked me to go out I could do nothing but accept.
So I am getting ready for our little date, we are going to go see "Cruel Intentions" at the ghetto movie theater. I had already seen that same film with a much more attractive young lady, but I figured if I could get her to fall for the dick-in-the-popcorn box gag the night would not be a total bust. I start to head out, and Smeagol is laying on the couch, polluting the air with his trifecta of funk: thong, slightly open sphincter and open mouth as he cooed while Mystery rubbed his feet.
"Hey wait up niggie I wanna go!" Smeagol exclaimed, and started his Get Up Movement. For those of you who are uninitiated, you can check this video out here . He rubbed his perm down with one claw as he moaned agreeably, scratching his almost naked ass with his other claw. Mystery started getting ready too, squeezing some smelly vag juice out of her leggings or whatever it is she did to get ready.
"Not you, bitch! I am going to pick up a lady and I don't need you there fucking it up!" Smeagol cawed angrilly. Mystery did this kind of shoulder shrug and sat back down on the couch, dejected. Then the plain white wall caught her eye and she disappeared into her own magical world, where she was a watermelon flying amongst the trees, eating sticks made of brown.
Smeagol got his freshest NWO jersey on, the one he spent last pay period's grocery money to purchase (he even had the gall to drive up to my grandmother's house and try to bum the 85 dollars to purchase this jersey, saying it was for his car payment), splashed on some of my cologne, which sizzled as it contacted his cloak of failure, and off we went. After getting that asshole Marvin to move his damn truck and listen to him whine about how we need to find some other way to get out of the driveway, we were interrupting his show, we took out, the windows down to hopefully dissipate the concentrated stench of Raptor.
Part II later.