The Devil Incarnate, Pt. II
11:07 a.m. || 2004-07-12
I'm very excited this morning to report that I have received my very first report-worthy google. Someone searched, "he who smokes hot bitches" and Voila! JoeCartoon. Someone must have been tellin' bad(good?) stories on me. I would change my page name to reflect this newfound glory, but then I would probably be thrust into a deep depression created by the irony that I am, in fact, not currently smoking even a single hot bitch, much less multiple ones. On another high note, we set a new JoeCartoon record for most 'unique hosts' on Friday. This makes me very sad for all of you, but I then soothe my sadness by thinking that by showing myself to be uber-pathetic, I'm probably saving each of you a load of cash that you would otherwise spend on therapy. If we ever meet in real life I fully expect you to spend at least 10% of this saved cash on alcohol for me.
Because I hate posting 'weekend recaps' I'll keep it short and sweet. We floated the river. We got really drunk. I managed to consume 3.5 Liters of vodka in the form of Jell-O shots. They were yummy. There were two different scenarios where it was almost "my birthday." It was really more like the day before or the day after my birthday. If you didn't understand the last two sentences, ask Jenna or Bethany and they'll explain. I was loud. I was crude. I wore a shirt that read, "No I don't remember your name, so don't even ask!" and it kept the people at bay that I wanted to keep at bay. I also came to realize that I am really old. When faced with the option of an hour long massage/back scratch or potential sex I chose the back scratch. What really confirmed that I was old is the fact that I KNOW I made the right choice. In short, we had fun. Toob the river if you ever get the chance. It kicks ass!
For all of you who ventured a guess in the "Where's JoeCartoon?" sweepstakes last week, we posted the answer in the 'Comments' of Friday's entry. To all of you who said I was hot, I love you. You're retarded and blind, but I love you nonetheless.
Now, back to the 'Devil Incarnate' theory:
Much like my slightly odiferous friend Judd I grew up in LittleBackwardsCrackerTown. Mine simply happens to be in Texas instead of Montana. In LittleBackwardsCrackerTown there are only a few things to do. #1, cruise the strip; #2 play Mailbox Baseball, #3... well, we don't have a widely accepted third option yet.
I however, instead of smoking weed and impregnating cheerleaders opted to come up with my own plan for 'fun.' I named it Project 'Critter Relocation' and I recently proved it is still in full effect. Project 'Critter Relocation' basically works like this: Find a critter (preferably one that is loud, moves fast, or is very furry, but ultimately harmless) and put it someplace where it is not easily removed and will scare the shit out of someone. I perfected this project in my early years in college, when prompted by a bet. I had a hugely fat neighbor who was annoying as shit. Out of sheer boredom, a buddy and I decided we whould test a theory (and wager a little money at the same time). See, HugeFatNeighbor, drove a Ford Focus. I'm not sure how he ever wedged himself in or pried himself out (or how the tires handled the excess load), but he did. And his car was constantly filled with scattered french fries, half eaten hamburgers and random sodas. More importantly his car was always unlocked. The bet went a little like this: We would set a mouse (or two mice as it turned out) free in his car and bet on how long they could live. Turns out, after three weeks of splendor in the grass (or mostly under the passenger seat) HugeFatNeighbor set mouse traps in his car and eradicated the filthy vermin. We decided this violated the terms of the bet and declared it a push. We also decided that since HugeFatNeighbor had ended our fun early, we had a few more surprises for him. Surprise #2 was a Nine-Banded Armadillo (the state mammal of Texas, FYI). It turns out that an armadillo is much more likely to A) cause a huge ruckus; and B) exit the car when given the opportunity (as opposed to hiding inside the passenger seat as the mice did), thus Surprise #2 was short lived. Surprise #3 turned out to be a 3 1/2' long alligator. This turned out to be the final straw for HugeFatNeighbor, as we discovered Surprise #4, which was that he began locking his car doors. Boo. I don't know if the planned surprise #4 (an opossum) ever found his way home to his family or not... :-(
All of these memories came crashing back to me last Thursday as Roommate and I were pretending to be Manly Men by building fence and chopping trees. You see, Roommate (also from a RedneckCrackerTown, albeit and even smaller one) is your pretty typical small town farm boy. That is, until he happens upon a snake. When said snake is spotted, he does a Bruce Banner and magically transforms into a mystical creature. Only instead of becoming The Hulk, he develops the ability to leap 30 feet in a single bound, land in the back of a pickup, and in a voice that can only be rivaled by a tornado siren, scream, "Snnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake!!!!!" This I find very funny because I like snakes and they like me. I've bitten some of them, and they've twice bitten me. Seeing as I've never died, I'm not afraid of them. But, to satisfy Roommate, I kill the snake. Nothing harmful, but a 6' chicken snake is a fun thing. I then begin to entertain myself by chasing Roommate with the still writhing reptile. Roommate turns out to be much faster than he looks. I quickly tire of this (not of him running and screaming because that is funny as hell, but rather just become tired because I am old and fat). We continue to build fence until it gets dark and then I talk roommate into going to get us dinner. I'll buy if he flys... It's a very effective tactic most of the time. And in this case it gives me the time to be the aforementioned 'Devil.' Roommate has white sheets... we use white trashbags... I place white trashbag on roommates bed, directly under his pillow. I then curl 6' snake on trashbag and replace pillow on top of snake. Then I do my best not to laugh or pee myself until we go to bed. Finally at 10:30 I'm at my breaking point, so I announce I'm going to bed. He agrees that the timing is right. I go to my bedroom and he to his. I stand just inside my door and wait. He brushes his teeth, and brushes some more... as long as I waited he must have taken at least 2 showers and a dump... then I hear the bedroom door close. I pee myself a little. And then I get the response I was waiting for... "Oh SHIT!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!! SNAAAAAAAAAKKKKKEEEEEEE!!!!!" Roommate runs straight into his door without even trying to open it. It sounds very painful. I fall on the floor, rolling with laughter and pee myself more. Roommate beats me with a 2X4, but I'm too busy rolling and peeing, so I don't even notice. It takes me 3 hours to go to sleep because I'm lauging hysterically and weeping huge man-tears of joy. Well, that and because for some odd reason my room smells of urine... Thank god for Febreze.
Wanna know how to scare your ex? - 2005-03-12
Maybe I am not the sickest person out there. - 2005-02-23
I'm out of my funk and I'm not talking about hygiene. - 2005-02-11
Ding Dong the Sports Season is Dead. - 2005-02-07
Wow, is this thing still on? - 2005-01-31
11:07 a.m. || 2004-07-12
