Conversations from the elliptical machine; part: who da fuck cares

Time and Place: 6am. Me and Sterg at GoodLife Gym. Surrounded by a million geriatrics getting in their morning exercise (what the fuck?! Dont old people sleep?)

H: Oh, fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Is this Phil Collins?

S: Yeah.

H: Oh, man. The songs they play here are getting worse and worse.

S: How can they expect us to exercise to Phil Collins? Do you even know what the name of this song is?

H: I think its the Su-Su-Sudio song.

S: Which one is that?

H: Its the one where Phil Collins goes "Su-Su-Sudio"

S: Oh.

H: Actually...I use to like this song.

S: Homo.

H: Hey, check out tv 7.

S: What are Pamela and Kid Rock doing in the news?

H: I dunno. Looks like Kid Rock is harrassing some photographers though.

S: Harrassing photographers?! The guy is like 90 pounds!

H: One of those photographers should just say "step the fuck back, son, before I embarrass you in front of your skank".

S: I know. Go sing another country song , asshole. You couldn't marry Pamela when she was good looking, now you're gonna take her when she has hepatitus?! Loser.

H: Oh I almost forgot. I was checking out this guy's blog, Butchieboy. He's pretty funny. He has this awesome picture of a naked woman with her back arched...

S: What so awesome about that?

H: ...and this squid is on her back with some of its tentacles all over her ass.

(old woman beside us gives us a weird look. she also changes eliptical machines and moves farther away from us)

S: (laughing, nearly falling off the eliptical machine) THAT. IS. WICKED.

H: I cant believe squid is getting more action than me. How are things at your store?

S: Pretty good. I think I made myself too accessible to my staff though.

H: What do you mean?

S: I told my staff if they ever wanna discuss any difficulties or problems they may be having they can always talk to me. "My door is always open to you" I think were my exact words.

H: Why would you say something like that?

S: Some of the girls are pretty good looking and I was hoping I could work the nice guy routine for a lay or two.

H: How is that working so far?

S: Not so good. Yesterday ChineseCootch, this really good looking girl, comes in my office and says "WhiteCootch left a mess in the girls bathroom". So I was thinking "what the fuck do I care?! I dont use the girls bathroom. Aaannnnd why are you telling me? I own the fucking store, I dont clean up the toilets."

H: What d'you tell them?

S: I said "work it out between the two of you".

H: You should be like a hard-ass and have told them "if you two dont solve the problem in 30 minutes my solution is gonna be no more girls bathroom. I'll use the extra space for more merchandizing and you guys can shit in the alley behind the store".

S: Are we still doing something for Huner's bachelor party tonight.

H: Damn straight.

S: Its gonna be sick.

H: I may contract 3 or 4 venereal diseases tonight.

S: You sick bastard...Yeah, me too.

Welcome to the Minutia of my Day

Boss is back today. And she's kinda pissed. Word got back to her that me and NewCootch did fuck all yesterday. Someone told her that we were shooting the shit till shift's end. I think I know who it was that ratted us out. Some douche we'll call GetBirdFluAndDie. GetBirdFluAndDie has been clocking NewCootch ever since her first day. I think he digs her.

Anyway, today I'm trying to keep more of a low profile. You know, really hunker down and get alot of work done to make up for yesterday. NewCootch doesn't seem to be cooperating though.

NewCootch: Hootch.

Hootch: Yeah?

NC: Can I ask you a question?

H: If its work related, sure.

NC: Do you like calypso?

H: No. I dont like calypso.

NC: Oh....Why dont you like calypso?

H: I dunno. I just dont. Isn't there some work you should be doing?

NC: Ya. I'll do it right now.... Hootch?

H: Yeah?

NC: I'm writing my performance evaluation. How do you spell "below"?

H: B-E-L-O-W

NC: You're so smart. Do you know how I spelled it?

H: ......

NC: B-L-O-W

That was the last straw. My boss had about enough. She made NewCootch change desks...like we were back in grade school. I thought that was kinda funny.

Fucking the dog with NewCootch

Boss was away yesterday. Me and NewCootch fucked the dog all day. Most of the morning was spent with intellectually stimulating conversation most of you can only dream of:

NC: Hey Hootch, do you want a coloured paperclip?
H: No. Why would I want a coloured paperclip?
NC: So you can paperclip things together.
H: Oh...right. No thanks. I have my own little stash of paperclips right here.
NC: Are they coloured?
H: No. They're just the regular ones
NC: Do you want some coloured ones though?
H: No....why what colours do you have?

Fascinating stuff. I'm pretty sure all the greats, like Sir Isaac Newton and Noam Chomsky, had roughly the same conversation with the cootches in their lives as well.

Anime Girl looked fantastic yesterday. Even her exceptionally unfortunate boney butt couldn't take away from her splendor.

Back to NewCootch - Yesterday afternoon NewCootch confided in me that someone has been "stalking" her. She doesn't recognise the individual but every morning the douchebag waits for her to get off the bus to work and confronts her with inappropiate advances. Further complicating this situation is the fact that NewCootch arrives at work an hour before anyone else. Now, common sense should dictate you alert the local authorities or, at the very least, tell your work. However, common sense in NewCootch is not so common. "That guy better not test me cuz I'll knock him out" has, so far, been her favorite response.

Anyway, today I'm meeting her at the bus station and we'll see what happens. If you dont hear from me within the next few days that probably means I'm enduring an ass rape of gargantuan proportions or I'm being held in captivity by the stalker and he is indiscriminately tazering my balls for his amusement.

later,

Hootch

More Conversations From The StairMaster

Just in case you were wondering, I know its hard to believe but no - me and Sterg are not members of Mensa.

S: Hey Hootch, have you lost any weight since we started doing this?
H: Yeah man. I lost 4 pounds last week.
S: Really?! Cuz it doesn't look like it
H: Shaaat aapp.
S: Man, if someone doesn't change this music they have on the stereo I may have to knock someone out.
H: For real. Who is this?
S: I think its that guy - Josh Groban?
H: I dont know who the fuck Josh Groban is...but I think he's turning me gay.
S: I know. I suddenly feel this overwhelming urge to sing Elton John songs and grow a moustache.
H: Hey, speaking of fags, hear Dave Navarro and Carmen Electra are breaking up?
S: Yeah. I hate that fucking guy. Carmen is still pretty good looking though, eh?
H: I was never really a fan. Hear Kid Rock marrying Pamela?
S: Such a dumb ass. Pamela dumped him when she was still young and hot and now he's gonna take her back when she's old and ugly?! Its fuckin retarded.
H: I know. Its an outrage. I mean Kid Rock's still got money. Before he was nailing every 20 year old porn star there was. Now he's gonna settle down with 40 year old Pamela?!
S: Its a travesty.
H: What's the world coming to? The conflict in the Middle East, global warming, guys with money marrying old, busted chicks. When will the madness end?
S: Still, Pamela in her day was a piece if ass, eh?
H: I never really was a fan of Pamela either.
S: Who the fuck do you like then?
H: I dunno. Hillary Duff is pretty nice.
S: Hillary Duff?! Ah man, Elton would probably give you more thrills.
H: Why? Who do you like?
S: That Rhianna chick is smoking.
H: Fuck, I know. Black chicks always scare me a little though.
S: Yeah. How come Grand Master?
H: I always get the feeling they could kick my ass, or they could snap my dick in half if they wanted to. Why do you think that is?
S: Probably because there is not much there to snap. Hey, you coming to the beach tomorrow for some volleyball?
H: Who is gonna be there?
S: Me, Mally, Laura, some of her friends, Earl.
H: EARL IS GONNA BE THERE?!?! GAY EARL? NO FUCKIN' WAY
S: Yep. The one and only.
H: Oh man, Gay Earl!! Remember a couple summers ago when we use to play, no matter how Earl went for the dig he always landed in the sand on all fours with his back arched and his ass spread?
S: Yeah. Like he was hoping someone would trip, fall over him and accidentally fuck him in the ass?
H: Oh, man, I love Earl. Yeah, I'm there. Tomorrow should be good.

this could have been good if I could write

Hootch: Where's Mally?
Sterg: I think he's in the bathroom.
H: Still?! He's been in there for a long time, no?
Tommy: Tell me about it. I've been holding a shit for, like, 25 minutes.
Kos: Is that was smells?
T: I think I may have let a nuggent slip out.
Patrick: Hey, who changed the channel?
Hootch: I did. Were you watching something?
P: Ya man, I was watching ultimate fighting.
H: Ultimate fighting is for fags
P: Why?! What the fuck are you watching, tough guy?
H: Dawson's Creek.
P: Fuck that, guy. I should have known. What?! Lemme guess - this is the episode where Dawson whines like a little bitch about not getting any pussy... which, when you think about it, is so completley bullshit cuz we all know Dawson is a raging homo, right?
H: Dawson is not a homo. Every guy in highschool was as least part Dawson. Thats what made Dawson's Creek so great - everyone could relate to the character.
P: Not everyone, brother. I got fuckin laid in highschool.
K: Yeah but getting drilled in the ass by Mr. Allen, the math teacher, is not the same thing.
P: Hootch just cant take it cuz his boy, Dawson, is a fag. I mean, if we were privy to Dawson's interior monologue it'd sound something like this "last night I dreamed I ate out Pacey's ass. It was delicious. It tasted like french vanilla ice cream.."
T: Didn't Dawson though nail that Katie Holmes chick?
S: Katie Holmes in fucking nasty guy.
H: Katie Holmes!? No man, she's nice. She's tall. Her face is kinda fucked up but still...
S: "But still" what?! How can a chick be good looking if her face is fucked up?
H: Well, everyone knows the taller a chick is the less attractive her face has to be, right?
K: Who says that?
H: Everyone. Its scientifically proven.
S: Yeah, fuck that. Just like your brumski theory?
P: What the fuck's a brumski?
S: You dont wanna know, guy.
K: Is it anything like a "Sprolski"?
H: Its in the same family.
S: What the fuck is a Sprolski?
H: Its when you bury your face into chicks asshole and yell "SPPPRRRRROLSKI". You have to roll the "r", like a motorboat.
S: Are you fucking with me now? Cuz if you are its not funny. Yesterday I tried the fuckin brumski and Laura started laughing so hard we didn't even have sex. And now you are telling me about the spr... spro..
H: Sprolski. Trust me dude. The Sprolksi - guarantee G spot orgasm for the chick.
S: For real? I mean, are you sure...cuz I normally dont do the butt.
H: You dont do the butt?!
S: No man, that shit is nasty.
Mally (walks in): Oh man, I eat the pussy, I eat the butt...I dont even give a shit if its clean.
H: Yes, Mally!
T: Where the fuck were you, man?
M: I was cranking one off in the bathroom to Patrick's mom.
H: Sterg, Sprolski Laura and if you dont turn that cooz's cookie into niagra falls, my name is mud.

Conversations from the StairMaster

The below conversation took place between me and Sterg while doing cardio on the stairmaster at 6am last Sunday. Its almost exactly like we were Dorothy Parker and her crew sitting at the Algonquin Round Table discussing the hot topics of the period....except we're partially retarded...and neither of us know who the fuck Dorothy Parker is.

H: ohhh, fuck I think I'm gonna die.
S: me too.
H: I dont know how much longer I can last
S:me neither...Is it me or do you also feel intense cramping on the left side of your chest.
H: no. no cramping with me...but I think my lungs may have collapsed.
S: how long have we been on for?
H: I dunno. It feels like at least a fuckin hour.
S: take a look at the display monitor. It'll give you all our workout details.
H: alright. Ahhh....it says "Time Elapsed 1 minute and 05 seconds; Calories Burned 15; Distance Traveled 0.01 mile".
S: Fuck this. this is bullshit. I should just go on roids.
H:Yeah, next time we should inject ourselves with some anabolics before the cardio.
(Old geriatric woman beside us gives us a weird look)
S: Hey, you coming over this afternoon to watch the world cup.
H: Yeah, I should be able to make it. Who you routing for?
S: France, man. Zidane's the man.
H: Yeah, I know. Zidane is so manly he may score a goal with his balls tonight.
S: Oh, I forgot to ask - how is NewCootch working out?
H: Oh, fuck. She's fucking useless.
S: yeah?
H: yeah. But yesterday she wore this really low-cut fuckin shirt. You could see the inside curve of both her tits - nice! I felt like giving her a brumski right there at her desk.
S: What the fuck's a brumski".
H: A brumski is when you bury your face in between a chicks tits and yell BRRRRRUMSKI.
S: What the fuck is that supposed to do?
H: I dunno, but chicks love it.
S: Chicks love the brumski?!?!
H: Chicks love the brumski, dude. Its scientifically proven. Nine outta 10 chicks agree, the brumski gives them more pleasure than receiving oral
S: Really?!
H: True dat
S: Awesome. I should try the brumski out on Laura tonight.
H: Yeah. Lemme know how it works out for ya.

Look Ma, No Proof-Reading

So alright. Okay. What went down at my work today. Well, the anime girl moved desks. That sucks. Moving into her desk is this other girl. She's pretty young. She looks like she's right out of University. She's not as good looking as the anime girl, I think, but alot of guys in the office think she's pretty hot. She's also pretty friendly, eager to please, has a good attitude...and is dumb as fuck.

In our office we have 3 or 4 printers that the entire floor has to share. So, when you print your reports, or whatever, you go to the printer, grab the fuck whatever is yours and go back to your desk and pretend to work. However, this new chick (we'll call her "newcootch"), along with her own reports, is accidentally grabbing everyone else's printouts. As a consequence, everyone in the office is walking around bewildered, checking out all the printers and trays and wondering where the fuck the report is they printed out 5 times already.

Now, to her credit, Newcootch is doing the best to help me out and atone for her mistakes. At her desk, when she realises that she may have grabbed a printout (or 30) that aren't hers, she puts on her cutesy voice and says "woops, Hootch, I think I may have grabbed a report thats yours". Instinctively I take it and say "thanks".

However, if Newcootch had half a brain she'd realise that on the top right hand corner of all the printouts is the name of the individual whose report it is. So, either she hasn't figured that out yet...or she thinks my fucking name is Esther.

Mally, Katja Kassin, Jesse and Sweaty Young Guy

I have this friend. His name is Mally. Mally is currently single. The ladies dont know what they're missing.

Today me and Mally went to the gym. At 5:45am he pulled up in my driveway, honked the horn and yelled "lets go fuck-face! I told you to be ready!" Half asleep, I stumbled and made my way into Mally's car. It stank like something fierce. It smelled like a skunk crawled up someone's ass and let one rip. It smelled like burnt hair mixed with Kentucky Fried Chicken shit. I asked Mally:

"Mally, what the fuck, did you fart?"

He answered "No, I burped".

Okay, so maybe the ladies aren't missing that much after all.

On the way to the gym Mally told me about this girl there who he thought was digging him. She was the receptionist. Her name was Jesse. When we arrived at GoodLife gym we both saw Jesse right away. She was at the front desk. She looked alright. She looked like a younger version of the porno star Katja Kassin. I mean Katja is not really my type, but fuck, I'd throw it to her.

I recall from some video clips when Katja is giving head she sticks the entire dick in her mouth so much so that her lips are pressed flush against the dude's pubes. And Katja's dudes aren't even "manscaped". Thats fuckin gross. Female pubes are all sunshine and roses but guys' pubes are fuckin' nasty. Same thing with feet. I had a point here, what was it? Oh yeah - Katja Kassin. If Katja Kassin is ever on the verge of going down on my 4 and three quarter inches of throbing beef injection I'm gonna tell her "I dont dig the way you give head, baby".

For real.

I am.

Ok. Where the fuck was I again? Oh ya, me and Mally. Me and Mally put on our work-out clothes in the change room and hit the eliptical machines for a 15 minute warm up. Ten feet ahead of us there was a row of stationary bikes where Jesse had moved to and was now talking with some other young guy. This young guy was pushing himself pretty hard on the stationary bike and was beginning to sweat profusely. Mally asked me:

"So, what do you think. She's pretty, eh?"

"She's alright". I said and continued to watch as Jesse started to massage the back of the young guy's sweaty neck.

"I think I'm gonna ask her out". Mally said.

"Mally, are you seeing whats going down, man?" I asked as Jesse was now sucking the stationary biker's ear as he continued to sweat like a beast.

"What? That!?! They're just friends".

Oh.

Okay.

I can hear the wedding bells now.

I Think I May Have Become "The Fat Guy" In My Group Of Friends

It appears as though the soul-crushing endeavor of employment has occupied so much of my time that it has become absolutely, positively impossible for me to find any opportunity to exercise. For god’s sake, as it stands now, I hardly have any time to play video games, watch tv and surf the internet for porno. Who has time to exercise?!?

I cant believe I’ve become the fattest among my group of friends!! You know how tv writers aspire to create, one dimensional, shallow characters in order to make it easier for the general public to identify with and recognize? Like with the show Friends. You have Rachel who is the pretty one, Chandler the funny one, and Ross the gay guy? Well if my circle of friends had a tv show I’d be the fat, retarded guy.

I’ve thought about going to the gym again and documenting my progress in a serious exercise blog. But ughh, who'd would wanna read what - "today, I struggled to bench press 15 pounds and the juice bags at my gym threatened to ass rape me in the locker-room showers" or "today, this steroid-ravaged chick threatened to snap me in half if I didn't fetch her some water and a hypodermic for her anabolics".

For real, maybe I should bang out some kind of scientific blog where I can empirically measure the benefits of exercise. But it wont be played out like "Exercise is good for your Heart" or Exercise improves Cardiovascular Performance". My scientific blog will study aspects of exercise that haven't been researched yet, like: "Does exercise improve the appearance of your penis" or "the stairmaster - does it really make your balls sag?" I'll take before and after photos and it'll be a whole thing n' all.

I dont even know what I'm saying anymore.

Tomorrow. 6am. GoodLife Gym. Hootch has a rendez-vous with the stairmaster.

Hootch.

ps. If you dont hear from me tomorrow, I may very well have died of a heart-attack.

Looking At My Gucci Its About That Time

Lou Dobbs,

What's the dealio, brother? Why you gotta be such a player hater. What have the fuckin' Mexicans ever done to you? And what exactly does "American Jobs" actually fuckin' mean? Is that anything like the positions the Native Americans held in society before the Europeans came over and spread their disease and shit?

Maybe, Lou, you just say the shit you do for shock value. You know, you don't actually believe that bullshit but you say it regardless to guarantee you airtime and to secure your audience of hillbillies. Is that it Lou? You say the shit you do because otherwise you feel you're not as interesting as Wolf Blitzer and his moustache?

Let me fill you in here on a little secret Lou, brother. If you want to go for shock value, I can hook you up with a couple of chicks to suck your balls while you do the news on live TV. Now that will bring in the ratings, vato!! Whattaya say? Come on, hombre, say "yes". When was the last time you had your balls sucked, good and long?

LD: Just yesterday.
Hootch: Get the fuck outta here, brother! You had your balls sucked yesterday!!
LD: Why, yes. I was with Anderson Cooper and he dipped his testicles in a jar of honey made right here in the good ol' U.S. of A. and I proceeded to suck them clean. It was a marvelous experience. That is the same thing, right?
Hootch: No, vato. Having your balls sucked and sucking Anderson Cooper's balls is not the same thing. Tell you what, brother, you think it over, cuz I know there is still an ounce of humanity left in you (unlike that douche, limbaugh and tucker carlson).

So, Lou baby, in closing - don't be such a tight ass. We're all living here on the same piece of dirt, doing our best and trying to get by.

Happy holiday to all my American amigos.

I Cant Even masturbate To Any Of The Women On The Oprah Show (most of the time) Let Alone Father A New Civilization With Them

If some kind of global cataclysmic even went down and me and that fucking retard Dr Robin, from the Oprah show, were the last two human beings on earth, the human race would surely die out. Yes, the human race would surely perish. No, not because Dr. Robin wouldn't want to get jiggy with me because I'm not her type. I'm exactly her type - tall, dark and dumb as a brick. Dr. Robin wouldn't be able to get enough of me and my super huge hairy baboon balls.

Nor would the human race disappear because I wouldn't get it on with the enormously annoying Dr Robin. Now, understand under any ordinary circumstances I would willingly and gladly castrate myself with an extremely dull and extremely rusty razor than let Dr Robin's snapper devour my tubesteak. However, these would not be ordinary circumstances. Remember? The end of the world? After all, who would know that I tapped dat wrinkly old ass? Not you. You'd all be dead - devoured by the giant man-eating penguins (or whatever the tragedy was that befell the world).

No, dear reader. If me and Dr. Robin, from the Oprah show, were the last two human beings on earth, the human race would surely die out because Dr Robin only likes it up the ass.

This post was dumb.

But I loved it.

Everybody Wants To Join A Winner

If you know anything about Toronto, you know its considered one of the most multi-cultural cities in the world...and for good reason. We have motherfuckers here from all over the globe. You name any country in the world and Toronto has a mini version of it right within its city limits - little Italy, little Portugal, little China etc etc.

However, once every 4 years, when the World Cup comes around, every douchebag seems to think they're fucking Brazilian. Every second car I see has a Brazilian flag clamped to its back window. For instance, a friend of mine pulled into his parking-spot at our work. His car had a huge Brazilian flag hanging out the window. I say to him:

- Brother, what are you doing with a Brazilian flag?
- Oh, didn't I tell you, Hootch? My father is part Brazilian.
- Dude!! Your last name is Chang.

Or the other day, when Brazil beat Ghana, I saw this one guy celebrating the victory like he had just won the freakin' lottery. He was albino. Now, I dunno about you but I don't think there are too many real Brazilian albinos around, if any.

So, this is why I have chosen to support a soccer team that no one else has predicted will win the World Cup.

COME ON LUXEMBURG. BRING IT ON HOME TO PAPA!!